The promise, whispered in the fading light of my first, somewhat ill-prepared visit to East St Clement’s, has been kept. The return journey to the heart of Footdee, camera bag heavier this time with both digital and the more considered weight of my film apparatus, unfolded under a sky washed with the purest April blue. The sun, a generous artist, painted every weathered surface of the church and its silent city of the departed with a clarity that had been absent on my first, more hurried exploration. This time, armed with a modicum of knowledge gleaned from belated research, I felt less like a casual observer and more like an invited guest, finally able to truly see the stories etched in the granite and whispered on the sea breeze.