They had paid a lot of money for their cruise and felt cheated. Perhaps Lerwick wasn't so different after all from the places they had come from.

This morning he avoided the centre and got off the bus at the supermarket on the edge of the town. Clickimin Loch was frozen and two whooper swans circled it searching for a patch of open water to land. A jogger ran along the path towards the sports centre. Usually Magnus enjoyed the supermarket. He liked the bright lights and the coloured notices. He marvelled at the wide aisles and the full shelves. Nobody bothered him there, nobody knew him.

Occasionally the woman on the checkout was friendly, commenting on his purchases. And he'd smile back and remember what it was like when everyone greeted him in a friendly way. After completing his shopping he would go to the cafe and treat himself to a mug of milky coffee and something sweet – a pastry with apricots and vanilla or a slice of chocolate cake, so sticky that he had to eat it with a spoon.

Today he was in a hurry. There was no time for coffee. He wanted to get the first bus home. He stood at the stop with two carrier bags at his feet. Although the sun was shining there was a flurry of snow, fine like icing sugar. It settled on his jacket and on his hair. This time he had the bus to himself. He took a seat near the back.

Catherine got on twenty minutes later when they were halfway to his home. At first he didn't see her. He'd rubbed a clear circle in the mist on the window and was looking out. He was aware of the bus stopping but was lost in his dreams. Then something made him turn round. Perhaps it was her voice when she asked for her ticket, though he hadn't consciously heard it. He thought it was her perfume, the smell she'd brought with her into his house on New Year's Day, but it couldn't be, could it? He wouldn't smell her from the front of the bus. He lifted his nose into the air but all that reached him then was diesel and wet wool.