The Skylark's Secret(26)
As they took the supplies from the car to carry them to the jetty, Moira Carmichael came out of her house. ‘Good morning, Alec, Flora. Isn’t it a lovely day? And where are you two off to?’
‘We’re just going out for a turn about the island. And yourself, Mrs Carmichael?’
She raised her bag – from which a pair of knitting needles protruded – with a flourish. ‘I’ve some new recruits to the Rural over at Poolewe who need to be shown what to do.’ She fluttered her eyelashes at Alec, surprisingly flirtatious. ‘No rest for the wicked, as they say!’ Craning her neck to look down towards the jetty wall she then shouted, with more of her usual force, ‘Stuart! David! I’m away now. There’s some bread and dripping for your lunch. I’ll be back by three. Mind you get the vegetable bed dug over like I asked you to by the time I get back.’
Two small figures, sitting side by side at the top of the slipway where they dangled handlines into the water, turned and gave her a thumbs-up.
‘Honestly, those boys will be the death of me,’ she grumbled. ‘Archie and I have our work cut out teaching them even the most basic of manners, I can tell you.’
‘What word is there of Johnny, Matthew and Jamie?’ Alec asked.
She beamed. ‘I’ve had letters from Johnny and Jamie just this past week. Nothing from Matthew but then he’s off who-knows-where on some training exercise with the second battalion, his brothers say. They’re all fit and well though, thank you, Alec. Give my best to your mother, won’t you, dear? And please thank her for her very generous donation to the canteen fund. It makes such a difference, being able to provide a bit of home cooking to those who are so far from their homes.’
‘I know how much the lads appreciate it,’ Alec agreed. ‘Ma was only too pleased to be able to offer a little support.’
‘Well, mustn’t dilly-dally. There are socks to knit.’ Moira stowed the bag of knitting in the basket of a bicycle that leaned against the fence and then, settling her hat firmly on to her grey curls, she mounted it somewhat unsteadily and wobbled off along the road.
Alec carried a wicker hamper to the jetty and set it down next to Stuart and Davy while he went to bring the boat round.
‘Hello, boys,’ Flora greeted them. ‘Have you caught anything?’
Stuart shook his head. ‘Not a nibble.’
Davy chipped in, ‘We’re trying to catch a fish for Mrs C so she’ll not be so cross. It’s not easy having two extra mouths to feed.’
‘Wheesht, Davy,’ his brother admonished him. ‘She’ll be even crosser if she catches you saying that.’
‘But it’s what she says all the time,’ protested Davy, squirming out of reach as his brother tried to give him a cuff around the ear.
‘She’s not really cross with you, you know. She’s just anxious about having her own boys away at war.’ Flora smiled at them reassuringly. ‘She’s taking good care of you, isn’t she?’
‘Yeah, she is, I s’pose,’ said Stuart, pulling in his line to untangle a skein of weed from his hook. ‘She makes really good mince and tatties. And when she has the time, sometimes she bakes us scones.’
Flora unbuckled the hamper and brought out a bottle of ginger beer. ‘Here you go, why don’t you two share this while you’re fishing? Or you can save it to have with your bread and dripping if you like.’
‘Are you off out for a picnic?’ Davy asked. ‘Can we come too?’
Drawing the boat alongside them, Alec laughed. ‘Sorry, lads, I could do without the extra competition. This outing is just for me and Miss Gordon.’
‘Is he your sweetheart then?’ Davy asked Flora, looking just a little bit crestfallen.
‘He’s a very old friend of mine,’ she replied with a smile.
‘And yes, I hope I am her sweetheart as well, because she’s certainly mine.’ Alec grinned. ‘In any case, I wouldn’t like to have to answer to Mrs Carmichael if that vegetable patch isn’t dug over by the time she gets back.’
Flora passed him the hamper, which he stowed against the transom before handing her into the boat. Pushing off from the jetty, they waved to the boys and then Alec steered out on to the loch, heading for the northern end of the island. They picked their way past the battleships at anchor in the bay. A refuelling tanker churned the oil-slicked surface of the water and the fumes rasped at the back of Flora’s throat, but once they reached the point of the island, the wind picked up a little and the air was fresh again with the smell of salt and seaweed. Flora pulled off her woollen tammy and let the breeze wash over her bare head, teasing tendrils free from her braid.
‘Oh, it feels so good to be back out here. If you don’t look back towards Aultbea, you can almost imagine there’s no war on at all, with the loch and the hills as wild and empty as they ever were.’
Silently, Alec pointed to the sky above, as an eagle launched itself from a small stand of trees on the island and soared away across the dancing waves, heading west. They watched it until it was swallowed by the hills towards Melvaig. ‘At least some things remain unchanged. But the war is coming closer now. Did you hear about the air raid on Scapa Flow two days ago? The Luftwaffe managed to sink the Norfolk. The Home Fleet is dispersing from there now – so Loch Ewe’s about to become even more crowded, I reckon.’