Polly smiled, but she’d already decided that she never again wanted to come back to Shetland.

‘So have you made any practical decisions?’ Grusche asked. ‘Do we have a time-frame here, for example?’

Polly thought Grusche was delighted at the notion of having her son home and was desperate for details, but didn’t like to seem too excited. She didn’t want to come across as a pushy mother-in-law.

‘We went into some estate agents while we were in Lerwick today.’ It sounded a bit like a confession, and Caroline looked over to Lowrie. Perhaps they’d decided to keep this news secret and she was hoping to get some tacit permission. But Lowrie was talking to Ian now and didn’t see her. Her voice was suddenly shrill with excitement. ‘There’s a house in Vidlin that looks absolutely perfect. Sheltered, and plenty of garden for horticulture; the possibility of buying a field next door. And compared to London, prices are cheap! We went to look at it on the way home this afternoon. Grusche, it’s gorgeous. I loved it.’

How can you be so happy? Polly thought. Eleanor’s dead.

‘So you’ll put in a bid then?’ Grusche looked at Polly to explain. ‘In Scotland that’s mostly how house-sales work. Sealed bids.’

‘No. Actually,’ Caroline took a deep breath, ‘they were happy to take an offer. And they accepted it. It’s been on the market for a while, so as long as we can sell our place reasonably quickly – and there’s a colleague of Lowrie’s who’s been coveting the house since we first moved in – we should be here by Christmas.’ She gave a little laugh, then put her hand over her mouth as if she realized at last that the excitement was inappropriate.

What is it that Caroline’s so eager to escape? Her work? London? Me? Polly felt the resentment burn and grow.

‘Oh, Caroline!’ Grusche gave a mock-pout. ‘You dreadful woman. What will I do now when I want to visit London for a fix of culture? Where will I stay?’

‘With me, of course,’ Polly said. ‘When Marcus is away on his travels I have the flat all to myself and it would be lovely to see you.’

Grusche clapped her hands. ‘So there we are. All settled.’ She called across the table to her husband. ‘Listen, George. Have you heard? Some good news at last, after these terrible days.’

Polly looked at Ian, expecting him to share her anger, but he looked up from his glass and seemed not to care that Eleanor had been forgotten in the conversation about the newly-weds’ move north.

When they walked back to Sletts the sun was on the horizon and the shadows were so long that they made the road almost dark. They didn’t speak. It was as if they’d felt the need to be entertaining companions in return for a fine dinner, and now they could mourn Eleanor again in the silence of the evening. The new house by the track was quiet, the curtains drawn, the washing all taken in. Marcus and Ian were strolling ahead, deep in conversation. Although they were very different personalities, it seemed that they’d become friends and Polly was pleased about that. It was too dark to tell if there was smoke coming from the chimney of the croft with the turf on the roof. Coming closer, Polly saw there was a faint light inside. From a candle or a lamp. She crossed the grass to look in through the window. The light caught a small figure dressed in white. A child dancing, spinning like a top – her feet clad in silk slippers – fixed to a spot. Then, as Polly watched, the girl ran from the room. The draught from the door seemed to blow out the candle and everything was dark again and she couldn’t believe what she’d seen.