Having been completely gripped by the first book of Peter May's Lewis trilogy, I was delighted that the second one came out fast on its heels. (But it's going to be a long, impatient wait until book three.)

We walk into that nursing home and all we see are a lot of old people sitting around. Vacant eyes, sad smiles. And we just dismiss them as ... well, old. Spent, hardly worth bothering about. And yet behind those eyes every one of them has had a life, a story they could tell you. Of pain, love, hope, despair ... And it'll be us one day. Sitting there watching the young ones dismiss us as ... well, old. And what's that going to feel like?  

When a mummified corpse is recovered from a peat bog, on the Hebridean island of Lewis, DNA evidence links it to an old man suffering from Alzheimer's.

This was every bit as good as the first book but if only I'd picked it up a couple of weeks ago. I was fascinated by the heartbreaking back story of the 'homers', orphans from the mainland who were settled on crofting families in the islands.

And then, belatedly, I discovered Cornflower's post about the forbidding Edinburgh orphanage that features in the book. And realised that I'd been there only weeks ago for this exhibition. If only I'd paid more attention.

A preview of the next book can be read here leaving me more impatient than ever.