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beach.
    ‘Should be all right to come back along the sand,’ John said as they jolted over the rutted surface.
    ‘Good!’ Amy said jerkily.
    The day was overcast, with a chilly breeze; when they ascended the last hill before reaching town they saw that the sea looked grey and sombre, with a heavy swell.
    ‘He’ll have had a rough trip,’ John remarked.
    Amy hurried onto the wharf while John hitched the horses. She saw that the Staffa had already tied up, and she looked eagerly for a sight of her father, but he was nowhere to be seen among the knot of passengers milling about on the deck.
    ‘Look at that,’ John said quietly as he came up behind her. ‘That fancy piece waiting for someone to help her along the gangplank.’
    Amy followed his gaze. ‘Oh, what a vision of loveliness!’ she said, smothering a giggle.
    The woman who had attracted John’s attention was immediately obvious among the other travellers. Not for any particular beauty; her mouth was too thin, her features too sharp and her nose too long for that, though she was tall and slim; almost bony, Amy thought.
    But her travelling costume was clearly designed for more sophisticated surroundings than Ruatane Wharf. It was of dark green wool, with contrasting buttons and cuffs in bright red, and it had what seemed to Amy an astonishing number of tucks and gathers. The frill around her hooded cape was of the same red, and it ended in a broad ribbon that came down her back until it rested on a slight bustle. Her hat was trimmed with a green ostrich feather, and red roses that Amy thought might be of velvet. To complete the picture, the woman was looking over her fellow passengers with an obvious sense of her own superiority.
    Amy’s attention was caught by a new movement on the deck. ‘It’s Pa!’ she said excitedly. ‘Pa!’ she called out.
    Jack recognised them and waved, then to their surprise he took the vision’s arm and led her up the gangplank.
    ‘She must have been fluttering her eyelashes at him,’ John murmured.
    ‘John! He’s just being a gentleman,’ Amy said, trying not to laugh. As her father approached them, Amy noticed that the woman’s face had a delicate green tinge that toned in with her costume.
    ‘Well, here we are at last,’ Jack said, a foolish grin on his face. Amy wanted to throw her arms around him, but she felt awkward under the vision’s gaze. ‘You’re both here, that’s good. I want you to meet,’ he took hold of the woman’s hand and slipped her arm through his,
    ‘Mrs Leith—my wife.’
    Amy stared at him, certain she must have misheard.
    ‘Amy,’ Jack said, taking her arm and pulling her closer, ‘aren’t you going to kiss your new mother?’
     
     

3
     
     
    September 1881
    The four of them stood on the wharf looking at one another; John and Amy in utter shock, Jack grinning stupidly, and the vision’s expression changing from a bright smile to a look of embarrassment. Amy realised that her mouth was hanging open; she shut it abruptly.
    The woman turned to Jack. ‘You did tell them about us, didn’t you, dear? You did say you’d write and tell them.’
    Jack shuffled his feet and looked at the ground before meeting his wife’s eyes. ‘Well, I meant to. But when it came to it… I just couldn’t think how to put it. I knew they’d be pleased as anything when they met you, so I thought I’d just let it be a surprise…’ He trailed off awkwardly.
    ‘You can certainly see it’s a surprise,’ the vision said. ‘Well, I’m here. You must be John? Surely you’re the oldest one?’ John looked at her dumbly, still too amazed to speak; when Amy nudged him in the ribs he recovered himself enough to nod. ‘And this is little Amy.’ She turned her gaze on Amy, and her smile wavered. ‘You’re older than I expected from the way your father spoke.’
    She shot a look at Jack, who put his arm around Amy’s waist and gave her a squeeze. ‘That’s because she’s my little girl. Come on,