Jamie must have been reading her mind, because he’d said that the call had gone out for any possible witnesses in the area of the cliff around that time.

‘Lots of folk follow the Skye and Lochaber Police Twitter feed. Chances are someone will have seen something, since the alert was already out for Jake.’

Rhona turned, as a sudden shout from behind appeared to call her name.

To say she was surprised by the person currently being disengaged from Jamie’s harness was the understatement of the century. But Rhona’s surprise wasn’t as great as her delight at seeing Chrissy McInsh stumble across the intervening rocks towards her.

‘I’ve brought food.’ Chrissy waved a bag. ‘A haggis roll. Can you take a break?’

They were now seated on a large boulder within sight of the locus. Along with the rolls, Jamie had requisitioned more hot coffee to be lowered down in a flask. After depositing Chrissy, he’d moved to discuss how to take the body away with his fellow MRT colleagues, either by stretchering it up the cliff face or, alternatively, bringing in the lifeboat and taking it out by sea.

‘So.’ Chrissy was regarding Rhona as she now scoffed the food she hadn’t been aware she’d needed. ‘Who’s the dishy guy you knew from before? And why was I never told about him?’

For the first time in what seemed like months, Rhona laughed. Not the polite or restrained version she’d been using, but a real laugh. One that almost made her choke on the haggis and bacon combination.

‘God, I’ve missed you, Chrissy McInsh.’

‘And I you,’ Chrissy said with a grin. ‘It took me ages to stop buying an extra filled roll of a morning. I put on weight by eating yours along with my own. And, by the way, if you don’t come back soon, I’m likely to get my jotters.’

‘They’ll never give you the sack.’

‘You haven’t met Derek.’ Chrissy’s graphic description of Rhona’s replacement would have provided a stand-up comedy routine on a par with Frankie Boyle in terms of expletives.

Rhona held up her hands. ‘Stop, please.’

‘So when are you coming back?’

‘Soon,’ Rhona said, wiping her hands and replacing her gloves. ‘Let’s deal with the body, then I’ll tell you everything that’s been happening here,’ she promised.

Rhona and Chrissy watched as the RNLI rib, having secured the body on board, set off in a burst of engine and froth towards the harbour at Portree. Rhona had given Chrissy the option of going with the lifeboat, but she’d chosen instead to be lifted by the recently arrived coastguard helicopter, so that they might work the scene on the cliff face above together, before time ran out on them.