‘Not at all. I was up and just about to get dressed. We had such a bad night with Vaila. My husband was working in Yell today anyway, so he got up early and took her out in the pram to walk her to sleep, and I took the chance for a lie-in. Come away in. I’ll put the kettle on and go and make myself decent. You’ll be here about that poor woman who’d come north for Lowrie’s hamefarin’.’ Still talking as she was setting out cups and heading into her bedroom. So chatty and friendly that Willow found it hard to consider her as a potential killer. And she was tiny. It was unlikely she’d have had the strength to move Eleanor’s body and position it in the loch.

They sat in a living room, which could have been in suburban England: patterned paper on one wall and furniture from IKEA. The woman cleared a pile of baby clothes and a rattle from the leather sofa so that they could sit down. The fog made the room so gloomy that she switched on the light.

‘Your baby’s named Vaila? That’s pretty.’ Willow took the offered coffee.

‘I’m Vaila too. Named after one of the off-islands. I thought it might be a bit confusing, but Neil liked it, and it’s always been a tradition in Shetland to keep names in the family, so we thought Why not? She can use her middle name if she doesn’t like it when she’s older.’

Willow looked at Sandy. She’d asked him to begin the interview. He looked panic-stricken for a moment, then cleared his throat.

‘You were at the hamefarin’ on Saturday night?’

The woman stared at him. ‘Don’t I know you? Weren’t you in Anderson High? The year below me. You were a Whalsay boy, and you stayed in the hostel too.’ She paused. ‘Well, I’d never have had you down as becoming a detective.’

‘Perhaps you could tell us about the hamefarin’.’ Willow thought the garrulous Vaila was about to launch into a series of school reminiscences, and interrupted before she had the chance. Sandy would be too polite to stop her in mid-stream. ‘Did you meet Eleanor Longstaff there?’

‘Yes, but I’d met her before that. It was supposed to be secret, but now she’s dead that’s not important, is it?’

‘When did you first meet her?’ Sandy made another attempt to control the conversation.

‘That afternoon. The afternoon of the party. It was all arranged by phone. I went up to Sletts. She said that would be better, because if her friends came back from their walk we could make an excuse about why I was there. If she came here it would be more difficult to explain where she’d been.’

‘Why was she so keen to talk to you?’ Again Sandy asked the question.