by Emma Fraser
‘How will I know where and when it’s safe to walk?’ Margaret asked.
‘You’ll get to know the tides. They come in twice a day, half an hour later than the day before each time. The tides are at their highest and lowest when the moon is new or full. Don’t worry, Dr Alan, or one of the locals will always be able to tell you. But don’t start crossing the sands when the tide is coming in. It can come in behind you as well as in front and to the sides of you, although most of the time it will just mean taking your shoes off and wading to a bit where it’s higher. If you find yourself trapped, well then the only option is to swim like the blazes. You can swim, can’t you?’
She wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.
‘I have no intention of swimming across,’ she said.
‘Aye well, we’re not great swimmers ourselves. Can’t, if the truth be known.’
‘Don’t you need to be able to? What happens if something goes wrong when you’re out at sea, fishing?’
‘If we have to get in the water the cold will kill us within minutes.’ He shrugged. ‘No point in being able to swim. I was only joking when I suggested it. If the tide’s in and you want to come and see the wee ones and I’m not here to fetch you, then you can row. I’ll make sure the coble is always left on the far side for you.’
‘Coble?’
‘This wee boat. You can manage it easily enough. The children do.’
If the children could row it, then so could she.
A woman and three children came out of the house to meet them. Peter helped them ashore as the boy ran down to help his father pull in the boat. The two girls remained with their mother.
‘You must be Margaret,’ the woman said, walking towards them. Her fair hair was swept up into a bun, with wisps softening her face. She had the most beautiful clear skin that Margaret had ever seen and a warm, welcoming smile. She crouched down in front of the children. ‘I’m your Aunty Flora. The girls are Mary and Annie, the lad, Lachie. We are all so happy to have you here.’ She looked up at Margaret, her eyes soft. ‘You poor things. You’ve been through so much.’
Margaret’s throat closed, making it difficult to speak. Happily Flora didn’t appear to expect a reply.
‘Come away in,’ Mairi’s sister said. ‘I have a meal ready for you. You must be hungry and tired. I’ve set the table in the kitchen. Girls, leave Libby and James in peace. Let them get used to their surroundings. You crowd must seem like a pack of wolves to the poor wee mites.’
What seemed to be the front door – but as Margaret learned later was actually the back – led through a small scullery and into a kitchen which was more like a sitting-cum-dining room, furnished as it was with a small sofa, a couple of armchairs, and a large table set for seven, making it a tight squeeze. An assortment of chairs and stools had been placed in front of each place setting. The warmth of a Rayburn stove filled the room.
‘Peter will take the children’s case up to the bedroom in just a minute. I’ve put them in with Annie. They’ll have to share a bed but all the more cosy, I say. Mary will sleep in alongside Peter and I. Lachie has the small room. He’s getting too old to be in with the girls.’
‘I hope we’re not putting anyone out.’
‘Put us out? After what you’ve done for Mairi and her friends? No indeed! It’s no problem for us to be in together. There’s plenty of space as you can see. There’s many a family on these islands who sleep five or six to a bed. Annie, why don’t you take the children upstairs and show them where they’ll be sleeping?’
Elizabeth sent Margaret an uncertain glance, but when Annie took her by the hand she went with her. Mary put James on her hip and followed.
Waiting until they were out of sight, Margaret closed the door and laid a hand on Flora’s arm. ‘Any news? A letter?’
‘No. Not yet. You’ve barely arrived and the mail will take a wee bit longer to catch up. But I’ll send a telegram to Mairi to say you,’ she smiled briefly, ‘or rather the parcels, have arrived safely. Toni will find a way to let Alasdair know.’
Margaret smiled at this woman whose heart was so big that she’d protect a virtual stranger and her children, although she had to be aware that even her small, tangential part in Margaret’s impersonation could get her and her family into difficulty with the police. And to take in two extra mouths to feed when, like everyone else on the island, they had little enough for themselves, was an act of kindness Margaret wondered how she could ever repay. When she said as much, Flora shook her head and smiled. ‘We all have to help each other while on this earth.’
Any lingering reservations Margaret might have had about leaving her children with Flora disappeared at that moment.
The clatter of footsteps on stairs prevented further discussion and as soon as they were all assembled they sat down to eat. Peter started the meal with a prayer and he’d only just uttered ‘Amen’ when the children reached across each other and heaped food onto their plates. Margaret glanced over at Libby at the opposite end of the table and was pleased to see her chattering with Annie in between mouthfuls. James was on Mary’s lap looking content and unperturbed to find himself amongst strangers. Her younger child had always been happy to go to anyone as long as they smiled at him.
‘So what do you think of Uist so far?’ Flora asked. ‘Mind you, you haven’t had much time yet to settle in, but you will.’
Margaret smiled. ‘It’s very different to what I imagined.’
‘Oh? In what way?’
‘Mairi talked about her homeland so often I’d built up this picture in my head that was rather romanticised, but now I think about it, that’s more my fault than hers.’
Peter laughed and shook his head. ‘Oh no now, don’t you go blaming yourself on that score. I can just hear Mairi describing the islands to you.’ He took his wife’s hand. ‘I know she misses it here, just as we miss her. How was she and the family when you last saw them?’
‘They were all in good health. She has a lovely family.’
‘They should come home,’ Flora said. ‘I don’t think the smog in Glasgow can be very good for them.’
‘There’s barely enough work for those of us here, Flora,’ Peter remonstrated gently.
‘It’s not much better in Glasgow,’ Flora said bitterly. ‘All these men laid off so the ship owners can keep their profit.’ She broke off, looked across at Margaret and flushed.
Peter patted Flora’s hand, before turning his gaze back to Margaret. ‘You see, it’s like this. We islanders are attached to this land and each other by an unbreakable silken thread – no matter how far we travel. It’s spun and woven with years of our history and culture, songs and traditions, and the further away you go the stronger the thread becomes.’
Flora laid her hand over her husband’s. ‘Listen to you, and you always saying you’re not romantic.’
The couple shared a look of such love and affection Margaret had to turn away. She let her gaze travel around the room. She, Alasdair, Toni and Mairi had often sat around the kitchen table in Garnethill as Mairi had talked longingly about Uist. Back then, she and Alasdair had discussed coming here on holiday one day. Neither of them could ever have imagined the circumstances that would bring her and the children here on their own.
She blinked away the tears that burned behind her eyes. She had to hold on to the belief that one day they would be together again. Her little family, sitting down to a meal, laughing and happy.
But right now she was here, without him, with a terrible gnawing pain in her heart and about to say goodbye to Libby and James.
All too soon it was time for Margaret to leave and the family gathered to see her off, turning away to give her privacy to say her goodbyes to James and Elizabeth. As if sensing he wouldn’t see her for a while, James wrapped his arms around her neck and had to be prised from her by Flora, who told Mary to take him to see the new baby chickens.
Mary tucked him on her hip with the familiarity of a child who had done the same for her
younger siblings several times before and, chatting all the while, carried him away. Margaret watched them go, feeling as if her heart would break before turning to her older child.
‘It’s time for me to go, Libby,’ she said softly.
When her daughter’s face crumpled and she entwined her hand in Margaret’s skirt, she faltered. How could she possibly leave her children? But, and it always came back to this, what other option did she have? Margaret knelt down and gently unpeeled her daughter’s fingers. ‘I’ll see you the weekend after next.’
Fat tears rolled down Elizabeth’s cheeks. Heavens, this was even harder than she’d imagined. In desperation Margaret rummaged in her handbag, looking for a long-forgotten sweet left in a crevice somewhere. Her fingers brushed against Alasdair’s gold fob watch, which she always kept with her. She took her daughter’s hand, placed the watch in her palm and closed Elizabeth’s fingers over it.
‘This belonged to Daddy. If you ever need me, rub the watch and I’ll come. Not come actually, sweetheart, but into your head. You can talk to me and ask me what you should do – and if you listen hard you’ll hear me telling you. Or if you’re sad, put it close to your ear and listen to the tick-tock. Imagine we’re in bed together all cuddled up and that it’s my heart you can hear and you won’t be sad any more.’
Elizabeth placed her hand to the side of her head. ‘I can hear it. It does sound like your heart.’
‘Put it in your pocket where it will be safe. Now, remember I’ll see you in a couple of weeks,’ Margaret said, striving to keep her voice from wobbling.
‘Promise?’
‘I promise.’
‘All right then, Mummy.’ Elizabeth lifted her small, determined chin and straightened her shoulders. ‘You mustn’t worry ’bout me or James. I’ll look after him for you. And I won’t worry about you. We’ll both be brave.’
But before she turned away, Margaret saw her daughter take out her daddy’s fob watch and hold it to her ear.
How was it possible to love someone so much and yet leave them?
Chapter 26
By the evening of her first day at work, Margaret was ready to drop. Dr Alan had been keen to put her to work and she’d been equally happy to get stuck in. In the morning she’d seen a full list of patients, at least half of whom had either TB or scarlet fever. She’d taken her time over every patient and consequently morning surgery had overrun badly. With no time for lunch, she’d done a couple of visits on foot that had taken the rest of the afternoon – one to a family whose child had whooping cough, and another to a family whose child had scarlet fever. Both children were poorly, the child with whooping cough in particular, but apart from keeping them in bed and dosing them with aspirin, there was little else that could be done for them.
Before she could return home she still had her notes to write up and she should really share her concerns about the number of scarlet fever cases she was seeing with Dr Alan so he could notify the authorities. She hoped an epidemic wasn’t in the offing. Disappointingly, he was still out and Dolina couldn’t say when he’d be back.
‘It’s always like this,’ the housekeeper complained. ‘He goes out to see four or five patients, but then he hears about others who need to see him, so he just carries on making visits.’
‘Hopefully I’ll be able to do more soon and he can take time off.’
‘Time off?’ Dolina smiled wryly. ‘Well, we’ll have to see about that. Depends on how you do, doesn’t it?’’
‘Miss MacGregor,’ Margaret said, exasperated. ‘I don’t know what I’ve done to upset you, but I think how I do as a doctor is up to Dr Alan to judge, don’t you?’
The housekeeper pursed her lips. ‘Aye, that may be right. Or it may not. I don’t hold with women doctors. It’s not natural. I know how Dr Alan likes things done and he needs a proper doctor to help him out. Someone who has more experience and knows what they’re doing.’
‘A man, you mean?’
‘Aye. A man. You have no idea what it’s like here in the winter. Sometimes the doctor has to go out in the dead of night when it’s blowing a gale. Many’s a time he’s had to pull the small boat behind him so he can cross all the lochs. Once, he even had to take shelter behind a rock until the gale blew out. Look at you! You’re only a slip of a thing. You’ll never be able to pull your weight. I know Dr Alan! He’ll take all the hard cases himself rather than let a woman like you go out in all weathers. He might as well have saved himself the trouble of taking you on!’
Margaret gritted her teeth. The woman was insufferable. Although the description Dolina painted of a doctor’s life on the islands in winter appalled her, she was damned if she was going to let her see that. Whatever it took to be a doctor on this island, Margaret would do it. ‘But he’s got me, Miss MacGregor, and like it or not, I plan to stay.’
Having written up her notes, Margaret trudged home. Her shoes and stockings were still damp and she longed for a hot bath in front of a fire. Instead she dried herself as best she could, shivering as she exchanged her wet stockings for dry ones.
After leaving the children, the remainder of the weekend had dragged. The little house, which at first had seemed so small, had felt almost too large without Libby and James. The fire in the stove had long gone out and the house was bone-chillingly cold.
Margaret had scrunched up newspapers and added bits of the dried earth the islanders used for fuel, before poking, prodding and coaxing the fire along until finally it had lit. Catching sight of her soot-covered reflection in the mirror, she’d had to smile. Who, of her former acquaintance, would recognise Miss Bannatyne now?
On Sunday, she’d debated long and hard about going to church, worried that someone, perhaps one of the visitors who’d been on the ferry, might recognise her. But it was clear that Dr Alan expected her to go and, as the doctor, she couldn’t hide away forever. Moreover, while she was here it was important that she went about her business as if she had nothing to hide and nothing to be frightened of. So she had gone to church and sat through an overly long morning service, acutely aware of everyone’s eyes on her. When the service was over, Dr Alan had invited her to lunch, a collation of cold chicken and rabbit. However, the incessant rain had meant that afterwards she’d had no option but to sit out the remainder of the day in her lonely cottage, thinking and worrying about Alasdair and her children, wondering how they were, what they were doing and whether they were missing her as much as she was missing them. It was as if a large chunk of her soul had been ripped out of her.
The nights were the worst. Alone in her single bed she tossed and turned, guilt and anxiety eating away at her. How were the children? Would James recognise her when he saw her again? Was Elizabeth pining for her? Did the children cry themselves to sleep at night, not really understanding why both Mummy and Daddy had abandoned them?
Lying sleepless, she imagined Alasdair holding her, his arms around her, her head against his chest as she listened to the beating of his heart. And then the tears would come – harsh, painful sobs as she cursed the hand they’d been dealt. But she gave into them only for a while. Self-pity achieved nothing. She had to stay strong if there was any chance of her small family being together again. She made up her mind that she wouldn’t cry again. She would have faith.
Nevertheless, she’d been relieved when Monday morning had finally arrived. At least she was back doing a job she’d always loved and work would help keep her mind off Alasdair and the children.
After her supper she poured herself a glass of milk and took it outside. The relentless rain had finally stopped, the wind had dropped away completely and the sun had come out. Bathed in a golden light everything looked quite beautiful. The moors were covered in a carpet of red, blue and orange wildflowers and, just beyond, the sands were a dazzling white. In the distance she could hear the sound of voices floating across the water.
She sat on a rock and hugged her knees to her chest. She had made it through her first working day. Before bed she w
ould write to Elizabeth and James and tell them all about it. Flora, she was sure, would read it to them. She’d written to Alasdair yesterday, told him about Dolina, about Willie and his dog, knowing it would make him smile. She’d told him that she was sure the children would be happy where they were. Just in case, she hadn’t mentioned any names. She’d enclosed her letter in an envelope addressed to Flora, who would forward it on to Mairi, and had posted it this morning. She had no idea how long the letter would take to get to Alasdair or when one from him, or the lawyer, would arrive.
The sound of a violin drifted from a nearby house and her chest tightened. The last time she’d heard that particular piece of music was when Alasdair had played it to her, shortly before his arrest. God, she longed for him. Her whole body and soul ached with missing him.
There were ninety-six days until sentencing. Ninety-six days.