by Katie Fforde
‘What’s a tammy?’ asked Emily, hunting for her last pair of clean knickers.
‘It’s a hat,’ said Kate, surprised. ‘Didn’t you know that?’
‘I think it’s probably a Scottish hat. I don’t know much about Scottish things.’
‘I’ll teach you – if you make me a tammy for Ted. Now come on. Daddy will be waiting!’
Emily followed more slowly, wondering if she minded being bossed about by quite a small child.
Billie handed Emily a cake tin and some beers, hustling her off the boat as quickly as she could. ‘You must be really desperate for some time alone with Drew,’ said Emily, laughing.
‘Yes. Now push off!’
Alasdair and Kate were waiting for her. Kate was jumping up and down, Alasdair leaning against the side of the car, holding a large red dog on a lead.
‘Oh, you’ve got a dog! I’d forgotten,’ said Emily, and instantly remembered seeing the little family silhouetted against the skyline on her first morning. Man, child and dog, all up before dawn.
‘This is Rupert,’ said Alasdair. ‘He belonged to my late wife.’
Now she looked more closely she saw that the dog had white in his muzzle. A sudden vision of the three of them, man, dog and child, huddling together in their grief. She hoped they didn’t still need to do that.
Kate chattered away in the back of the car while Emily put sad thoughts out of her mind and enjoyed the scenery. It was so beautiful, and ever changing. Mountains, rivers and lochs, they appeared and disappeared as they drove. Sometimes there was also sea in the distance, sometimes not. Eventually she said, ‘So where are we going?’
‘To a sea loch. It’s a lovely spot. I have friends who live near and we can borrow their boat and row out to an island.’ He glanced at her briefly. ‘It is really unlikely we’ll see an otter though.’
‘Well, I thought they were fairly nocturnal anyway,’ said Emily. ‘Not that I know much about them.’
‘Since their numbers have increased you do see them in the day more often, but you’d be lucky.’
Something in his voice made her smile. ‘I promise not to cry if I don’t see one.’
‘I never cry if I don’t see one,’ said Kate. ‘That would be just silly.’
‘Now we’ve established that no one will be crying we can think about the picnic,’ said Alasdair. ‘It’s a bit basic, I’m afraid.’
‘What, no Scotch eggs?’ said Emily. ‘I’d have thought you’d have to have them. Because they’re Scotch, obviously.’
‘We’ve got ham sandwiches, and cheese ones,’ said Kate. ‘I made them, though Daddy cut the bread for me. I am allowed to cut bread when Daddy’s there but he says I cut doorsteps and wouldn’t let me this time.’ She paused. ‘How can you cut doorsteps out of bread?’
Emily sympathised. She’d been a literal-minded child herself. ‘I think it just means the bread is as thick as a doorstep.’
‘Oh.’ This seemed to make sense. ‘We’ve got sausages though!’
‘I love cold sausages,’ said Emily.
‘These are cold,’ said Alasdair. ‘They are also raw. We’re planning to cook them over the fire.’
‘Surely you can’t just light fires anywhere?’ she said. ‘Not these days.’
‘We’re fine where we’re going. It’s the perfect spot for lunch. Besides, the smoke helps keep off the midges,’ said Alasdair. ‘Nearly there.’
They left the car off the road and Alasdair handed out things to carry. ‘Wellies for you,’ he said to Emily. ‘Put them on.’
A thought struck her. She knew she should ignore the idea but somehow she couldn’t. ‘They didn’t belong to—’ she began, sure it was the wrong thing to ask but suddenly squeamish about wearing a dead woman’s shoes.
‘They’re Becca’s,’ said Alasdair. ‘She told me you’d need them.’
‘She’s very bossy, that woman,’ said Emily, undoing her shoes, glad of Becca’s forethought.
Rupert seemed to know where he was going and was happily sniffing around. What must it be like, Emily thought, having your wife’s dog, but not her? And what was it like for Kate? It wasn’t the sort of thing you could ask and she’d already been tactless about the wellingtons.
Kate and Alasdair carried on taking things out of the car. Alasdair handed her a small rucksack, which she put on. Then he gave her a billycan that was stuffed with newspaper.
‘Come on!’ he said, and the little group followed their leader down the path to the shores of the loch.
‘I’ve found a spraint!’ said Kate importantly while Emily was taking in the view, listening to the curlews, waiting for Alasdair to finish fiddling about with the boat and loading it up with picnic paraphernalia. ‘That’s otter poo!’
Kate was very grown up for her age, Emily thought, but not so grown up she wasn’t excited by poo. Which was a good thing.
‘Lovely,’ said Emily, feigning enthusiasm.
‘It’s good,’ Kate went on urgently. ‘It means they’re here.’
‘I am pleased,’ said Emily. ‘But although I’d really love to see an otter, its poo isn’t quite doing it for me.’
‘They reckon it doesn’t smell like poo,’ said Alasdair. ‘It’s full of hormones and things, leaving messages for other otters.’
‘Clever,’ said Emily. ‘So what does it smell like?’
‘Have a sniff,’ he suggested.
‘No, you’re all right, just tell me. I’ll believe you.’
He laughed. ‘Some people say it’s like jasmine tea.’
‘Cool,’ said Emily.
‘OK,’ said Alasdair. ‘Emily, if you go and sit in the stern. Kate, you go in the middle and I’ll push off.’
‘Wouldn’t it be better to have Kate in the stern,’ said Emily, contemplating getting her leg over the side of the boat.
‘No, we need weight down that end to help us get off,’ said Alasdair.
‘That’ll be me in the stern then,’ said Emily, and clambered aboard.
Alasdair pushed the boat until it floated freely and then leapt aboard. He was a fine figure of a man, Emily was forced to admit. It was nice to have the opportunity to admire him without Rebecca or anyone misinterpreting her interest.
‘Everyone OK?’ he asked. ‘Let’s get going.’
He manoeuvred the boat round so the stern was facing the island and Emily could look at it.
‘It’s quite far away, actually, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘I didn’t realise that before.’
‘It’s a good stretch,’ Alasdair agreed, ‘but lovely when you get there. One day, when Kate’s a bit bigger, we’ll camp there.’
Emily nodded. ‘Like Swallows and Amazons.’
‘Exactly. And maybe there should be a few more people, to make it fun.’
‘Emily could come,’ said Kate. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’
Alasdair seemed a bit embarrassed. ‘Sometimes Kate—’
‘It’s fine,’ said Emily. ‘I can imagine how Kate must feel. You don’t need to explain.’
Her reward was a surprisingly lovely smile. He wasn’t a very smiley person and so when he did it made a big difference.
No one said much for a while until suddenly Emily caught a bit of movement. It was on the shores of the loch so it was quite far away. ‘I think I saw an otter!’
‘Grab the binoculars,’ said Alasdair.
Kate pulled them out of a bag and then out of their case. She seemed practised at it. She handed them to Emily, who struggled to get them in focus. ‘Why don’t you look?’ she said and handed them to Alasdair.
He rested his oars and took hold of the glasses. ‘I think what you saw must have been a little dipper. They do look very like otters when they’re swimming.’
‘You might see a real one later,’ said Kate kindly. ‘You just have to keep looking.’
When they reached the island Kate took Emily into the wood to look for firewood. Her father had strict rules, she explained, and he wouldn’t like anything
that was too green, too big, or remotely damp.
‘Surely it’s all going to be damp,’ Emily objected, feeling she would never find anything suitable and so be despised by her hosts.
‘If you take dead branches that are still on the trees, they’re the best. And ash is the best sort of wood.’
Emily followed the little girl and found once you got your eye in, you did spot the dead branches. ‘This is fun!’ she said, having hung on a large branch and got it to break off the tree.
‘Daddy may say that’s too big,’ said Kate. ‘But you’re not to mind.’
‘We’ll need some quite big stuff if we’re to cook sausages,’ said Emily.
‘Suppose,’ said Kate, but still looked doubtful.
Alasdair had a good big pile of wood already and he was building the fire. He was obviously very experienced at it. He smiled at Emily as she added her wood to the pile. Kate was still on the hunt for the perfect dead branch.
‘I hope it’s all useable,’ she said. ‘Kate gave me very strict instructions about what I was to get and what to leave.’
‘It looks fine.’
He seemed to be more relaxed now, as if being in the open air, making a fire, had had a calming effect and made him less serious.
‘Pull up a rock,’ he said, gesturing to the boulders that surrounded the fire. ‘We have the fire here because there are ready-made seats. Putting picnic chairs in the boat seems like a step too far.’
‘Although if you were camping it might be worth your while. If you were going to spend any time here.’
‘Do you like camping?’
‘I do and I don’t. I hate the thought of a huge campsite but as long as I feel safe, I love sleeping in a tent, waking up with the dew on the grass, a thread of mist over the water, all that stuff.’
‘So, how about if it’s rained all night and you can’t even think about leaving the tent without your boots on?’
Emily nodded. ‘A bit more challenging but as long as you can make a huge greasy breakfast, I’m still up for it.’
He didn’t speak immediately. ‘It’s a shame you’re only here until the end of the puffer season. We could come in the October holiday.’
Emily didn’t know what to say. The thought that relatively soon she would be leaving all this and going back to her real life felt wrong somehow. What she wanted to do, suddenly, was to go camping with this man and his daughter. She shook her head to bring herself back to reality. ‘I thought you felt Kate was a bit young to camp like that just yet.’
‘She’s a bit young if I’m the only responsible adult, but if there was someone else here, it would probably be fine. But it was just a thought.’
Before she had to think of something nice and neutral to say, Kate came running up. ‘Can I take Rupert round the island, Daddy?’
‘Got your whistle?’
The little girl nodded her head enthusiastically and gave a little peep on the whistle that was hanging round her neck.
‘Off you go then!’
Chapter Seven
THE FIRE WAS going well and Alasdair had threaded sausages on sticks from which he had peeled the bark. He had arranged stones so the sticks were supported and they were sizzling and spitting away enthusiastically. ‘Lunch won’t be too much longer now,’ he said.
Emily had kicked off Rebecca’s wellingtons and had piled up bags and cushions and made a really comfortable place to lie; she was looking at the view, allowing her eyes to close sometimes as relaxation came over her. Rupert had his chin on her bare ankle. It felt very nice.
Kate was building a cairn by the fire, choosing her stones carefully so they wouldn’t fall down. When she was satisfied, she sat her teddy on top, still wearing his Fair Isle jumper.
‘Won’t Ted get a bit hot sitting so close to the fire, wearing his pully?’ suggested Emily, drowsily. ‘And it’s such a lovely day.’
‘No. He has a little cold on his chest and I don’t want it to get worse.’
Emily looked at Alasdair whose eyebrows had raised. ‘She didn’t get it from me, I swear,’ he said.
Emily laughed. ‘Well, feel his forehead from time to time and if he’s a bit hot, move him further away from the fire.’
Rupert got up and ambled to the water’s edge and took a long drink.
‘Would you like a drink, Emily? I’ve got some beers or there’s elderflower? We’ll have a brew later, or I could put the billy on now?’
‘Have I time for a quick nap? Just ten minutes. I’m a good catnapper. Us midwives have to snatch bits of sleep when we can.’
‘Better put some of this on, then.’ He found a tube in the rucksack and handed it to her. ‘I’m never sure if they really don’t like the smell and keep away, or just drown in it. You need to slather it on.’
‘James has this and we all use it,’ said Emily, applying the lotion. ‘It’s good stuff.’
He nodded. ‘You have your nap, then. I’ll tell you when I’ve made the tea. Kate will butter the rolls to put the sausages in.’
As Emily settled herself and closed her eyes she found herself wondering how come she felt comfortable enough to fall asleep in front of someone she didn’t know very well and probably didn’t have much in common with. Although they did both like being outdoors, picnics, boats, nature, that would never be enough to sustain a proper friendship.
She was woken a few minutes later by Kate whispering in her ear. ‘Look!’ she said urgently. ‘Otters! Over on the mainland.’
Emily’s eyes snapped open and peered, trying to see where Kate was pointing. ‘I can’t see anything!’
‘Here.’ Alasdair handed her some binoculars. ‘You see that pine tree? Just under there.’
It took Emily a few seconds to get her eye in and then she saw them. It looked like a little family, running along the shore-side.
‘Kate, do you want the binoculars?’ Emily kept her vision glued to the creatures playing across the water.
‘You keep them,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen otters lots of times and I’m young, I’ve got strong eyes.’
‘Alasdair?’
‘Nope. I can see them again. This may be your only opportunity.’
A second later the little family slipped into the water and disappeared.
Emily lowered the glasses and sighed. ‘That was wonderful! I never thought I’d see otters in the wild. Thank you!’
‘We didn’t actually lay them on specially,’ said Alasdair, amused.
‘But you brought me to a place where I might see them, and I did. I’m so grateful.’
‘Whisht, now! Eat this.’
He handed her a sausage enclosed in a roll. As she took it a drop of melted butter landed on her leg. She took a quick bite.
‘That is so delicious!’
‘Oh, sorry, did you want ketchup? I have a few sachets somewhere.’ Alasdair hunted in the rucksack.
‘Not for me, thank you.’
‘I want red sauce!’ said Kate, coming up. ‘Can I put it on myself?’
Alasdair agreed and, after watching Kate and the ketchup, Emily said, ‘I think what your daddy meant when he said “yes”, was that you could put the red sauce on your sausage yourself, not actually “on yourself”.’
It took Kate a second or two to realise that Emily was joking although there was quite a lot of ketchup smeared about her person. Then she laughed. ‘You are quite funny!’
Emily shrugged.
‘Now what would you like?’ said Alasdair. ‘We have more sausages, as you can see, although I expect Rupert will eat at least one of them. We have a variety of puddings – shortbread, black bun, and—’
‘Tablet!’ shouted Kate. ‘We have tablet!’
‘Um – Kate – can you tell me what that is, please? I don’t think we have it in England,’ asked Emily.
‘It’s – well – it’s tablet,’ said Kate.
‘It’s a combination of sugar and butter that is probably fatal. It might have condensed milk in it too,’ said Alas
dair. ‘That, like the shortbread and the black bun, were made for me by a patient – one who thinks being a single man, I can’t cook and so am therefore likely to starve.’
‘Ooh, annoying! Does it make you feel patronised?’
‘No, it just makes me feel as if my granny is still alive.’
This was quite endearing. ‘So, I know shortbread, black bun can wait, but I still don’t quite see what tablet is?’
‘It’s like a very crisp sort of fudge,’ Alasdair explained. ‘It is delicious but so sweet you can’t really eat much. Unless you’re Kate, and she can only have what I give her.’
‘It might make me hyperactive,’ Kate explained.
‘Scary thought.’
Kate nodded. ‘And then I won’t go to bed.’
‘OK, bring on the tablet,’ said Emily. ‘I like to live dangerously! But I always go to bed.’
The tablet was as delicious as it sounded, and as sweet. ‘Wow, that is good!’
‘Black bun now?’ suggested Alasdair. He offered a very richly fruited cake that seemed to have a pastry base.
Emily was already quite full enough. ‘How long are we staying? I’d love to try some black bun later, with a cup of tea.’
‘Fair enough. Would you not like tea now? Or something else?’
Emily smiled and nodded. ‘I don’t often say no to tea,’ she said. ‘At least, only after the first seven mugs.’
‘Seven mugs!’ said Kate, impressed.
‘I told you I was a midwife,’ Emily explained. ‘Sometimes babies take a long time to arrive and people make me tea. It’s what you do. That and produce boiling water. Although to be fair, not so much these days.’
‘And so what do you do while you’re waiting?’ asked Alasdair.
‘I knit,’ said Emily, aware she might be getting into dangerous territory, given how some people regarded her habit. ‘It’s a multi-purpose activity. I get a scarf or some blanket squares out of it, the mother is reassured by seeing me do it – if I’m knitting all must be well – and …’ She stopped.
‘And? We’re all ears,’ said Alasdair.
Emily hesitated. If she told him the next bit he’d dismiss her as an airy-fairy radical midwife, which in many ways she was, but she didn’t want to spoil an almost perfect day by starting an argument. ‘You promise not to laugh?’