by Katie Fforde
Hi, love, hope you’re having a great time up there with the midges. All v. well here. Local GPs are giving us more support now. It’s this thing about home births being safer than hospital births. Even had a mum come to us who’s signed on with your GP mate Derek Gardner. Who’d have thought it?
She emailed back. I expect Derek feels it’s all safer now I’m not there any more! She added a bit more about what she’d been up to and signed off.
But she found herself a bit ambivalent about the email. How come things were going better for local midwives in her home town now she was no longer there? And Derek Gardner referring patients when they’d had that awful row?
She heard herself giving an audible ‘Hmph’.
Chapter Five
LIFE SETTLED INTO a routine that seemed to suit everybody. In between cooking and copying out the faded pattern Maisie had given her, Emily familiarised herself with the puffer.
When she’d first arrived she’d found the vertical iron ladders a bit of a challenge. But soon she found herself swinging up to the wheelhouse and down to her cabin as if she’d been doing it for years. She got to know the engine room a bit too. Bob, the engineer, got her stoking, showing her how to throw the coal into exactly the right spot. Although she was ready to retire to her galley quite soon, she did now understand why the passengers paid good money to spend a week in a boiler suit, shovelling coal. Their companions got the beautiful scenery, the sea birds and, sometimes, the seals. They just got sweaty and covered with coal dust and loved it. She also learned what ‘ashing out’ was when she saw it happen. Hot and sweaty engineers, some paid, most not, hauled huge buckets of hot ash from underneath the boiler. This activity was accompanied by lots of shouting and calling out for lime juice. Billie showed her that this was delivered in pint mugs, and everyone involved needed at least two mugs of it.
The wheelhouse was different. It was quiet there, and calm. There was quite often someone ensconced with James, chatting to him, learning to steer, or just looking out of the window.
Emily loved being up there. The view was a bit like watching a film. While there wasn’t much plot, the backdrop was ever changing and the chances of seeing a seal, or a something, kept up the interest. She began to understand the fascination of being at sea.
Emily’s own duties were a bit more taxing. Copying out Maisie’s pattern took time and concentration. It was very much folded and repaired and the ink was fading. She felt she had to have a clear copy before Maisie went home, or she’d have no one to ask when she couldn’t work out what she was supposed to do next.
She got Maisie to look at it when she had finished.
‘Och, my dear, I can’t read the pattern!’ she said, amused at Emily’s optimism. ‘Haven’t been able to for years. It’s all in my head!’
Emily felt a bit let down. She’d been relying on Maisie to check her transcript for errors.
‘It’s just an insurance policy,’ Maisie explained. ‘If I forgot what I was doing I could ask someone to check I’d got it right.’
Emily laughed. ‘Maisie! The chances of you coming across someone who could read and understand a Fair Isle pattern are tiny!’
‘But I met you, didn’t I? And you’re going to manage just fine.’
There was no arguing with that. Emily put away her pattern and went to fetch Maisie a glass of sherry.
Saying goodbye to Maisie was a real wrench. Emily had got so fond of the old lady in the fortnight she’d been on the puffer. She’d got on well with all the passengers and was sorry to see them go but Maisie was special. They’d spent a lot of time together and although she seemed perfectly well, there was a fragility about her that Emily found a bit poignant.
‘I’m going to really miss you, Maisie!’ said Emily after breakfast on the day Maisie and her son were leaving.
‘Not nearly as much as I’m going to miss you!’ said Maisie. ‘It’s grand to have company – and not just because you looked after me so well. I’ll miss us knitting together.’
While Emily had been getting her head round the Fair Isle, Maisie had been knitting clothes for Kate’s teddy, her painful hands better able to knit small items than adult versions. She and Emily had agreed he should have a jumper to match his scarf.
‘Do you not have friends who knit?’
Maisie nodded. ‘But they live far away and we don’t see each other often. When we do, it’s at a party, so we’re blethering, not knitting.’
Emily felt this was a shame but as there wasn’t anything she could do about it she didn’t comment further.
‘And you,’ Maisie went on. ‘You must give up this feminist nonsense about being single. Get yourself a good man and have a baby. You’ll always regret it if you don’t.’
‘Well, if a good man comes along, I’ll set about getting him, but until then, I’m happy on my own.’
‘Don’t leave it much longer. You’re no spring chicken!’
‘Maisie!’ said Emily, who didn’t know how to react to this. Then she laughed.
Later, when she helped Maisie off the puffer and they shared a hug, she found herself weeping a little bit. She and the rest of the crew waved Robert and Maisie off in their taxi home and then she cleared her throat. ‘Come on,’ she said, ‘beds to change. There’ll be another lot coming tonight. We must be ready.’
The puffer schedules were not all the same. Depending on where they were going and where they needed to pick up their passengers, the cruises were different lengths. They were preparing for a five-day cruise now so when they’d done the beds, Emily and Billie were going to take a taxi to the nearest town and do the shopping. Although Rebecca had offered to do this (resting was all well and good but she was getting bored) they had insisted that they do this one themselves ‘because we mustn’t get too dependent on you’, Emily had said.
Emily had made a list, planning out the meals: starters, main courses, puddings; lunches; and breakfast ingredients. Billie took hold of it and looked at it critically.
‘Don’t let’s buy anything we can’t freeze. We might meet some fishermen.’
‘Good plan. We’ll get some venison for a casserole though. I like to have some things already made in the freezer. It’s a security blanket.’
Billie laughed. ‘Not room for much in the puffer’s freezer.’
‘Better than nothing,’ said Emily. ‘I remember Rebecca telling me they didn’t have a freezer when they first started, or any help for the cook, so it was just her, making every meal from scratch, on her own, all the time.’
‘Shall we get some pizza bases for lunch?’ Billie suggested.
Emily considered for a moment and then shook her head. ‘No, bought pizza bases would be wrong. We’ll make our own.’
‘They’d give you a sense of security, being there in the freezer,’ Billie said with a sideways smile.
‘No, we have a reputation to keep up. We’ll either make our own pizza bases or have something else.’
Billie shrugged. ‘If I were in charge I’d buy the pizzas and put some extra cheese on them and put that out.’
‘That’s possibly why you’re not in charge, Billie,’ said Emily solemnly.
Billie shrugged. ‘You’ll regret it!’
But as they left the shop, clutching several bags of food, Emily felt glad that Billie and she had come to a point where they could tease each other.
After breakfast the following day, when the new lot of passengers still felt like strangers and hadn’t yet properly bedded into puffer life, Emily regretted her high-mindedness. An easy lunch would have been a boon and although she started making pastry she wasn’t sure that the couple of large quiches she planned to make would actually be ready by lunchtime. Two passengers hadn’t been happy with their accommodation, although to their great credit, they had been quite happy to swap over. This was a good solution but it entailed quite a lot of linen changing and recleaning, so Emily was behind schedule. Still, things were easy-going on the puffer and probably no one
would mind.
She was rolling out pastry when Billie came into the galley, full of excitement.
‘Never mind about the quiche! There’s a fishing boat. Come and look!’
Emily tore off her apron and followed Billie up on deck. There was a fishing boat a little way away and the puffer’s engine was slowing down.
‘Lunch is on its way!’ James called to Emily from the wheelhouse window. ‘That fishing boat just got in touch on the radio to see if we’d like any langoustines.’
Emily instantly remembered when she’d first arrived and had been scared by the noise in the sink, only to discover it was full of live shellfish.
‘Will you cook them?’ she called up, hoping his duties as captain would allow a spell in the galley.
‘Sure! Drew can take over. You’ll do the aioli?’
‘No probs.’
She didn’t go back down below until the fishing boat and the puffer had come alongside each other and a huge bag of something rustly was handed across. Drew, who was in charge of the handover, offered a note in exchange. There was a lot of thanks and banter as the bin-liner full of shellfish as fresh as you’d ever get it was brought aboard and both vessels speeded up and went on their way.
‘One of the joys of the job,’ James said a little later, when he joined Emily in the galley. He was carrying the heaving bag. ‘We’ll find somewhere to anchor and then I’ll be down to cook them. We just need a bucketful of aioli, bread and butter, bit of salad and we’re done. It should be warm enough to eat on deck, don’t you think? Then people can throw their shells overboard. Save us having a smelly rubbish bag.’
He made it all sound so simple, Emily thought, separating eggs.
And somehow it was. The passengers all carried their full plates up on deck and found a comfy place to sit. The wind dropped and the sun shone hotly on the eaters who were tossing prawn shells over the side with abandon.
‘We could be in France or somewhere,’ said Emily to James, who happened to be sitting next to her.
‘But I’d rather be here,’ he said.
Emily realised she’d rather be where she was too.
At the end of the week, Rebecca appeared on the puffer with Kate in tow just after the last passengers had disembarked. Late pregnancy seemed to have given her an unexpected burst of energy.
‘Hi! Kate and I wanted a “nearly the end of the holidays” treat. My boys are being sporty with my lovely neighbour who’s got boys the same age, Alasdair is working and so we’re kidnapping Emily for the day.’
‘Oh! Is that all right with you, Billie?’ Although she hadn’t been aware of wanting to get away now the chance to go beyond what she could see from the puffer was irresistible.
Billie nodded. ‘Yeah. No one expected until tomorrow afternoon and we’ve stripped the beds. You go off and enjoy yourself.’
Emily realised Billie probably appreciated the chance for a bit of privacy. Her going off for the day meant Billie and Drew could spend time together, even if part of that time was spent working.
‘OK.’ Emily turned to Rebecca. ‘Where are we going?’
‘It depends. Have you finished that pullover for Maisie yet? I know you haven’t had long to do it.’
‘I have done it, as a matter of fact. Much to my surprise. I had a good long go the other day when everyone went for a walk and Billie made dinner. I’m rather pleased with the way it turned out.’
‘Oh, that’s brilliant! Well, I think we should go and deliver it to her.’
‘Do you know where she lives?’
‘Of course,’ said Rebecca smugly. ‘Come on then, get yourself ready and we’ll be off!’
‘This is so much fun,’ said Emily. ‘Not that I wasn’t having a good time on the puffer but it’s lovely to see a bit more of Scotland.’
‘It is nice to get away,’ Rebecca agreed. ‘When we first started the business – before we had the boys – we used to go week to week with no time off in between. But after that first year we realised we’d never be able to keep going. We took on a galley slave and I trained up some friends to take over the cooking sometimes. I do miss it when I’m not there, but it’s hard work.’
‘It is, but I love it. Billie’s being really great now, which makes such a difference.’
‘Now.’ Rebecca pulled off the road. ‘If you look over there’ – she pointed out of the window – ‘you can see the ancient Kingdom of Dalriada, which was the most important of the seventeen ancient kingdoms of Scotland. The view hasn’t changed since the year 999 when the last crowning of a king of Scotland happened before the crowning ceremonies were moved to Scone.’
‘That sounds like a guide book.’
Rebecca nodded. ‘I memorised it so I could tell the passengers.’
‘Actually,’ said Kate from the back, ‘there are two kingdoms of Dalriada. The other one is in Ireland.’
There was silence from the front. ‘You should get out more,’ said Rebecca. ‘You spend too much time with your dad.’
Emily turned round to see how Kate had taken this rather harsh criticism and saw that she was smiling with a mixture of smugness and mischief. This was obviously not the first time Rebecca had implied her young niece was a bit old for her age.
‘I like history,’ she said.
‘Actually,’ said Emily, ‘I do too. But only the bits I’m interested in.’
‘We don’t do much history at school,’ said Kate. ‘Dad tells me stuff if he remembers.’
‘He’s a doctor,’ said Emily. ‘He’ll have a lot of things on his mind.’
‘He says that,’ said Kate, obviously not entirely convinced.
‘He is busy, love,’ said Rebecca, starting up the car again. ‘It’s not easy being a single parent.’
‘People always say that,’ said Kate. ‘But I don’t see why. I’m very good.’
‘I should imagine your dad loves being a single parent,’ said Emily. ‘Just you and him with no one else to complicate life.’
Rebecca started to say something and then stopped.
‘That’s what I think,’ said Kate, having thought it through. ‘But people keep wanting to change things.’
‘It’s just the same for me, Kate,’ said Emily. ‘I keep telling everyone I’m perfectly happy being a single independent woman but no one ever believes me. They think I must be wanting a husband really, if only I’d admit it to myself.’
Rebecca harrumphed, aware that she was one of those people. ‘Well, I will just say, whatever else I’ve achieved in my life, nothing has been as satisfying and meaningful as my children. Now, let’s move on. Maisie’s waiting for us.’
For some reason Emily had expected Maisie to live in a conventional Scottish house, grey stone, white windows and a stag’s head door-knocker. It was made of stone but otherwise it couldn’t have been more different.
‘Is this Maisie’s house?’
Rebecca laughed. ‘Yes. It’s lovely, isn’t it? It’s a converted cow byre.’
The doorway was traditional, a stone porch with a tiled roof. But next to it was glass and wood. Where previously there would have been grey stone walls, small windows and low eaves, now there was a huge pillar of pale timber and next to it a wall of glass. French doors in the middle were surrounded by climbing roses. It was a wonderful combination of tradition and new design.
Before Emily could ask more questions about the building, Maisie opened the door, obviously delighted to see her visitors.
‘Come away in.’
Enchanted, Emily went in. The room was big, with high ceilings; one end of it was a kitchen which turned into a comfy sitting room with a large wood-burner in the middle. At the other end, the entire wall was taken up with a cabinet full of small models.
Kate, less concerned with the pleasantries, ran over to it in delight.
Rebecca was taken up by greeting Maisie and Emily took the opportunity to look about her. There were windows down to the floor on both sides. Out of one side she saw a wild hi
ll, above which wheeled a pair of buzzards. Through the other window could be seen a Mediterranean walled garden. It was so unexpected, somehow.
‘Kate, dear,’ Maisie said, ‘if you’re good I’ll unlock the cabinet but don’t tell any little boys they do open. You may take some things out and play with them and then put them back – a bit differently if you like but tidily.’
‘What an amazing house!’ said Emily a little later when the adults were sitting round the stove drinking tea and eating home-made shortbread. ‘I love it!’
‘It is nice,’ said Maisie, sounding less than enthusiastic. ‘But since my husband died I have felt a bit …’
‘Not lonely, surely?’ said Rebecca. ‘You’ve got people all around you. Up at the farmhouse? And the barn?’
Maisie put down her cup. ‘I have plenty of good neighbours but I do sometimes miss having a good old chat with someone I’ve got something in common with.’ She looked at Emily and patted her hand, indicating she considered her one of those. ‘Have you got something to show me?’
Emily, who had the pullover-back in her bag, shifted uneasily. She’d been so keen to do it, but now the time had come for her to present her work she felt as if she was going into an exam. ‘Well, I’ve done it but I’m not sure you’re going to like it.’
‘Let me look!’
Maisie picked up her reading glasses and put them on, making Emily feel even more uneasy. She pulled the knitting out of her bag and handed it over.
Maisie inspected it. ‘Kate, dear,’ she said a moment later, ‘can you bring me that little box by the door? The one with the drawer in it.’
Kate, who seemed to be having the time of her life in a very quiet way, quickly brought the box. Maisie opened it and produced the front of the sweater. She compared the two in silence. Emily wasn’t near enough to see whether or not they were similar enough.
‘That’s grand,’ said Maisie eventually. ‘I only wish my dear friend could sew it up for me. I’m no good at that part these days.’
‘Oh,’ said Rebecca, full of compassion, ‘has she – er …’
‘Died? No indeed, but she lives too far away for me to see her. One of the downsides of this very beautiful house is living so far away from my knitting pals. We’re all so ancient we none of us drive.’