by Katie Fforde
‘Have you knitted anything else in Fair Isle since?’
‘Only a pullover for a teddy. Where is Maisie?’
‘Over there,’ said Isla. ‘She’s longing to see you. Her grandson is here too. You may be expected to marry him, even though he’s probably a bit young for you.’
‘My, don’t you look smart?’ said Maisie as soon as she saw Emily. ‘You have got legs, then? You don’t always wear trousers?’
‘Mostly I wear trousers,’ Emily admitted. ‘When I’m working, that is. But this is a celebration and Rebecca brought me a dress to put on.’
‘It’s so kind of you to come when you’re just off the plane. I find travelling quite tiring.’
‘I’m fine! Delighted to see you and be here for your special celebration.’
Maisie patted her hand. ‘Now, let me introduce you to a certain young man.’
As the young man was wearing a fairly familiar Fair Isle pullover it wasn’t hard to guess it was Maisie’s grandson. He seemed to be in his early twenties and very shy. Emily put out her hand. ‘You’re Donald? How very nice to meet you. I’m so relieved to see the pullover fits. It was my first attempt at Fair Isle.’
Donald blushed deeply. He was very tall and thin, with thick dark hair and eyebrows. In a few years, Emily decided, he would be very good-looking indeed. Right now he was too Bambiesque, all long limbs and lack of coordination. ‘It’s a grand pullover. Thank you so much for knitting it for my grandmother.’
‘I only did the back. Turn round.’ Donald obliged.
‘It’s perfect!’ said Maisie. ‘I wasn’t sure you’d be able to do it but I’m sure not many people could tell I didn’t do that myself.’
‘I think she’s proved herself just fine,’ said Isla. ‘She can be an honorary member of our knitting guild.’
Emily laughed, embarrassed. ‘Oh, I don’t know about that. I’m only in Scotland for the summer.’
‘The summer might be long enough,’ said Maisie. ‘Now, let me introduce you to the rest of the gang.’
Emily thoroughly enjoyed herself. She met everyone there and as a friend of Maisie’s was treated instantly as a friend of them all. Emily had always enjoyed the company of elderly ladies, especially when they were relaxed and full of stories. After all, she reasoned, you didn’t get to be their age without gathering a bit of wit and wisdom on the way.
She was full of sandwiches, shortbread and sausage rolls, weak from having laughed so much, when Rebecca came and said it was time they were off.
‘Before you go …’ a younger woman came up to her. ‘I’d just like to introduce myself. I’m Heather Morrison, the health visitor for the area. I’d like to say how wonderful you’ve been with all these old biddies.’ She used the term with great affection or Emily would have been offended on their behalf. ‘If ever you need a job as a health visitor, just let me know!’
For the second time Emily was disconcerted by someone assuming she was a permanent resident. ‘I’m a midwife actually, but I’m only here temporarily. I’m working as a cook for Rebecca here.’
‘Hmm.’ The health visitor regarded Rebecca’s well-developed bump. ‘I’d have thought you’d be more use as a midwife!’
They all laughed. ‘I’ll be going home to my own maternity unit soon,’ Emily explained. ‘I’m not delivering Rebecca’s baby, no matter how much she begs. I’m on a sabbatical and not licensed to practise up here.’
‘Well, from our point of view that’s a shame,’ said the health visitor. ‘There’d be plenty of opportunities to work up here for someone like you.’
It took Emily and Rebecca some time to make their farewells but just as they were near the end, Emily was aware of the door opening. Alasdair stood on the threshold outlined in sunshine. Emily’s heart did an involuntary skip. She batted it down as she watched him enter the room.
‘Hello!’ he said to various of the women who were obviously his patients. ‘I thought I ought not to miss out on what promised to be the party of the season.’
Emily wondered if she and Rebecca should take this opportunity to leave. They’d said their goodbyes and the ladies were distracted by Alasdair’s arrival. She glanced at Rebecca but she was smiling at her brother-in-law and didn’t seem desperate to go. If Jess was doing the evening meal on the puffer, there was no great urgency.
Emily wandered away from the group to go and look at the picture of the banner that was now in pride of place in the church. There hadn’t been time to look at it earlier, she’d been far too busy socialising.
It was a lovely thing. Small panels representing different historical happenings, either of national importance or of significance to the community, were represented in embroidery, appliqué or in some cases Fair Isle. It made Emily smile. She could see from the photograph, which was a work of art in itself, that while the overall impression was of something quite naïve, the individual squares were very beautifully done.
‘Hello,’ said Alasdair from behind her shoulder.
‘Hello! Rebecca said you weren’t invited – or she gave that impression anyway.’
‘The local GP doesn’t need a special invitation,’ he said. ‘He can just turn up if he’s got time.’
‘Well, that’s nice. There’s lots of food left over.’
‘I didn’t come for the buffet, splendid as it is.’
‘So why did you come then?’
‘I thought I’d better just make sure you’d come back from wherever you went.’
‘I went home. And I’m only here for the summer. I’ve said that a couple of times this afternoon.’
‘I know. But I wanted to make sure you were here for the whole summer, and not just a bit of it.’
Emily felt her mouth go dry and butterflies start Highland dancing in her stomach. ‘I promised I’d be here and so I am.’
Before he could reply, Rebecca came up. ‘Come on, Em, I must get you back. And my boys will need feeding. I’ve got them a wee food parcel.’ She held up a bulging carrier bag. ‘As usual, they cooked for a regiment of working men, not a bunch of old ladies who don’t have much appetite. I do like that!’
‘I’ll be seeing you then,’ said Alasdair.
‘You will,’ said Rebecca. ‘We’re related.’
‘And Emily,’ he said. ‘I’ll be seeing her, too.’
Emily found herself smiling inanely, not sure how to respond.
As she got in the car she wondered if it was really wise, seeing him while she was up here. It couldn’t go anywhere. It would be impossible to keep the relationship going when she was home. He wouldn’t move south; she couldn’t move to Scotland: her work – her career – was based in the Cotswolds. And now she had that amazing job offer to consider – her chance to make a real difference to pregnant women, not only in her immediate area but for miles around.
A holiday romance would be all very well, but only if everyone knew it was just for the summer.
Chapter Eleven
EMILY WOKE UP feeling sad. It took her seconds to work out why. It was the second week of September and the last day of the last trip. Soon she would be leaving Scotland and going home.
She lay there and wondered why she felt sad at the prospect of going to her beloved home town, seeing her friends, possibly starting an exciting new job (she still hadn’t quite made up her mind about it) and moving back into the little cottage she loved. It didn’t make much sense, really.
She rationalised it as she scrambled into her clothes. She was leaving Rebecca and James, she was leaving Scotland – a place she had come to love – and, of course, she was leaving Alasdair.
There was no reason to be sad about the first two: neither Scotland nor Rebecca and James were going anywhere; she could come back as often as she liked. And Alasdair had only ever been a holiday thing. Really, she was being ridiculous.
She allowed herself a brief glance at the hills, colour-washed with purple now the heather was properly out, before heading for the galley.
The puffer was quite a way away from her home base and tomorrow a mini-bus would pick up the passengers after breakfast. Then the crew would take the puffer back to Crinan on their own: James had described this passengerless cruise as a sort of holiday. Of course the puffer had to be steered, the boiler stoked and meals cooked, but it was quite different from when there were passengers, however lovely and helpful those passengers might be.
‘I’ll get the kettle on,’ she said brightly to Billie. ‘We’ll have a cup of tea.’
‘I’ll make it,’ said Billie agreeably. ‘I know you like a walk first thing. You go. I’ll be fine.’
Emily hesitated for a second and then hopped off the boat and set off.
Once off the wharf she followed a rough track that led her to a footpath and on to the heather. She stopped to examine a single flower and marvelled that something that was individually so small could have such a dramatic scenic effect. She sighed and carried on.
Emily would hardly admit it to herself, let alone anyone else, but the reason she so valued her walks, apart from the exercise, was they gave her an opportunity to think about Alasdair.
In spite of what he’d said when they had seen each other at Maisie’s party, she hadn’t seen him since. Emily missed him and Kate terribly. She didn’t really understand why. They didn’t have a relationship and she’d always known it could only ever have been just a summer thing, so why was she still feeling like a teenager with her first crush? And why couldn’t she just throw it off and put him out of her mind? She had so much else to think about! Should she take this job, which would be exciting and terrifying but also a chance to really make a difference? Surely she shouldn’t even need to think about it! Of course she should take it. Only someone without an ounce of ambition would turn it down.
And although she did think about it, Alasdair and Kate kept intruding into her sensible plans about how to get the team to feel OK about her being promoted and what equipment she should buy first.
Over the past weeks she had longed to ask James why Alasdair hadn’t called in on the puffer recently but feared he might pass on her casual enquiry to Rebecca, who would make a lot of it. Rebecca would either then worry that Emily was going to get her heart broken or try and throw her and Alasdair together in a well-meaning attempt to hook them up.
She had heard from Kate though. James, who went home when he could to make sure Rebecca was well and not overdoing it, came back one day with a picture for Emily. Kate had drawn a bonfire, with hills behind and a teddy bear sitting next to it. The teddy was wearing what, with a bit of imagination, could be recognised as a Fair Isle pullover. The teddy had a speech bubble saying, ‘Where’s my tammy!’
Emily had accepted the challenge, got in touch with Maisie for some pointers as to how to make a tam-o’-shanter for a teddy and got to work. The passengers had been very amused to learn what she was knitting on such small needles with such a complicated pattern.
‘You know why it’s called a tam-o’-shanter, don’t you?’ one male passenger said to Emily as she was knitting, half an eye on the galley where her soup should be coming to the boil any minute.
She smiled brightly, certain she was about to find out. This particular passenger had a great deal of knowledge and felt it was his bounden duty to make sure everyone in his vicinity had the opportunity to hear it.
‘So why is it called that?’ Emily did quite want to know but she – and everyone else present that week – was a bit fed up with the Walking Encyclopaedia, as she and Billie privately dubbed him.
‘It’s after a character in a poem by Robert Burns,’ he said, possibly hoping she’d ask who he was.
Emily didn’t oblige him. ‘Oh, well, we’d love you to recite it one day but just now I must see to my soup.’ She put down her knitting and got to her feet.
‘It’s quite long,’ said the passenger. ‘So maybe you won’t have time to hear it.’
‘Probably not,’ said Emily, whisking into the galley. ‘But I’m really pleased to know about Tam o’ Shanter.’ This last bit was true so she gave him an especially warm smile.
In honour of the last day, Emily and Billie decided to do a special dinner – ‘dinner adieux’ as James said it should be called. As there was no need to think about the following week, all their best ingredients were got out and examined.
They’d been lucky with passing fishing boats. One had provided some hand-dived scallops (one of their crew members was a keen scuba diver), some pollock and some mackerel. As they had some smoked salmon that needed using and some smoked haddock in a vacuum pack for emergencies, they decided on fish pie for the main course. In a fit of extravagance Emily suggested using the three last threads of saffron in the sauce to make it extra special-looking.
‘Nigella does it,’ she explains. ‘Her fish pie is lovely and looks really wonderful too.’
Billie nodded agreement. ‘We need to make it a bit different as we have fish pie quite often!’
They discussed turning the scallops into coquilles Saint-Jacques and then realised that would be more or less the same as fish pie and got out some chorizo that had been in the back of the fridge for a while. They would make a soup – a velouté as the recipe called it – and put scallops and chorizo into it. The scallops needed padding out a bit anyway.
For pudding they decided to make a multi-layered cake, with cream, frozen raspberries and a couple of layers of very thin meringue for extra crunch. Billie wanted to put spun sugar on the top but they decided to see how they got on before going to those lengths.
Just before they were ready to serve, James came into the galley to get a drink of water. ‘Soup smells good,’ he said.
‘It’s not soup!’ said Emily and Billie in unison. ‘It’s velouté!’
The dinner was declared superb by everyone. Emily and Billie were delighted with how well it had gone. The scallops were plump and tender, the velouté (which everyone referred to as soup) creamy and the fish pie declared by all to be a pie to end all pies. And the pièce de résistance, complete with spun sugar, was photographed by all.
After coffee, made and served by James, Bob the engineer and Drew, there were very many toasts and speeches. Special awards were given by James to all his crew members, each one with a hyperbolic citation that made everyone laugh and Emily blush, unaccustomed as she was to such fulsome praise. The citations were accompanied by giant chocolate coins in gold foil that each had a small cartoon drawn on it as well as the person’s name.
One of the passengers had written an ‘Ode to the Puffer’, which he read aloud to many cheers and calls for more.
‘You can’t help noticing how people’s bar bills go up on the last night,’ said Billie. ‘I reckon we’ve sold an entire bottle of Famous Grouse and a case of beer.’
‘Yes,’ said Emily, ‘and if you consider how generous James has been with his personal, captain’s whisky, it’s amazing they want to buy any at all!’
‘They have been a particularly relaxed and boozy lot this week,’ said Billie. ‘Perfect for the last week.’
‘I suppose we should start clearing,’ said Emily, trying to summon the energy to move.
‘Certainly not!’ said the poet. ‘You’re not lifting a finger, either of you. Go and sit down!’
But instead of sitting down, Emily went to the stern for a last look at this particular view. She found Bob leaning on the rail, a can of beer in his hand.
‘It’s beautiful, isn’t it?’ he said and together they took in the calm water, the distant islands with their peaks and hills and the pattern of the clouds to the west.
‘Really lovely. I’m going to miss all this so much,’ said Emily.
‘So you’ll go back home to real life after this?’ Bob asked.
‘Mm. I have to. It’s where my work is. What about you?’
‘I’m a college lecturer in my real life. I enjoy it, but I enjoy it more because I have this’ – he made a wide gesture – ‘in the summer.’
‘That’s
the best of both worlds, really.’
‘Really, it is.’ They watched a group of ducks, silhouetted against the sky, fly along and then land with a lot of wing-flapping, causing a small bow-wave. ‘So,’ Bob went on. ‘Would you stay here, if you could?’
Emily felt her sigh was so deep and so heartfelt that it actually caused ripples on the water. ‘It would depend on finding work. I’m a midwife – can’t remember if I told you that – and delivering babies is what I do.’
‘Nothing else makes you happy?’
There was something about the setting and Bob’s calm presence that made Emily question the things she’d thought were certain. ‘There are other things. I really like old people. I find them interesting and funny and while they don’t bring hope with them, in the way a little wrapped-up bundle all red and crumpled does, they have so much to teach us.’ She laughed. ‘I don’t just mean Maisie teaching me to knit Fair Isle. But I’m trained as a midwife and I’m good at it.’ She paused. ‘Besides, I’ve been offered an amazing new job. It’s not just more money and responsibility but the opportunity to really change midwifery in my area for the better. I have to go back to that.’
‘You don’t sound convinced.’
She sighed again. ‘I know. I’m not convinced but I ought to be. It’s a head-over-heart thing and I’ve always been ruled by my head. I have to be this time too.’
‘I think you’d do it brilliantly. You’re obviously the sort of person who could find work anywhere and make a go of it,’ Bob said. ‘Look at how you fitted on to the puffer so quickly. I’ve been chief engineer for years and a lot of people can’t cope with the cooking. It’s why Rebecca has so many she can call on in an emergency, in case it’s too much for the regular cook. But you fitted in straightaway.’
Emily was delighted. ‘Well, I suppose I’m used to unsocial hours – i.e. long ones – and I did want a break from midwifery and to help Rebecca out. And I did have some days off,’ she added. Although she was trying hard to forget about him, she couldn’t stop her mind going back to that wonderful night, seeing the Northern Lights with Alasdair and Kate and what happened afterwards.