Chapter Twenty-Two
EFFIE
21 February 1931
Lochaline
Effie came down the hill on the bike, her trousers tucked into her socks, hair flying as she sailed on the straight into the village. Slipper and Socks were far ahead, of course, just black-and-white streaks enjoying their flat-out run. It was one of the joys of having come ‘home’ to Lochaline, being reunited with her young dogs. They had been company for her father in her absence, but there was no denying she felt less herself without them trotting at her heels, just as her shoulders now felt forever bare without her loop of rope.
‘Morning, Effie!’ Ishbel MacDonald called as she passed on her way back from the bakery, her basket filled with warm bread.
‘Hai Ishbel!’ Effie waved cheerily at her new friend as she sped past. They sat next to one another on the looms, and Ishbel’s bright smile and infectious warmth was one of the only things that had got Effie through her first few weeks at the factory. The manageress, her old foe Mrs Buchanan, had taken great delight in making Effie crawl to get her position back; no one could have been more pleased at her fall ‘back to earth’ as word spread that her engagement was now broken off. Effie made no mention that Sholto had tried his best to persuade her to accept a generous annuity that would allow her and her father to live comfortably, but if she had never accepted charity back home, she wasn’t about to start over here. Unfortunately, the enmity between the two women only grew and, more than once, Effie, at boiling point, had declared she would ‘rather starve than lick that woman’s boots’. But Ishbel had a way of talking her down and their days together at the looms passed quickly. It was only the nights, when Effie was alone with her thoughts, that were long.
She pulled on the brakes, hearing the squeal of the rubber as she swerved to a dramatic stop and jumped off, placing the bike against the greengrocer’s wall. Her father had taken a liking to rhubarb and she was only too happy to get some for him; Saturdays could feel endless sometimes, with no cliffs and no Sholto.
She went inside and bought half a pound and a bottle of lemonade as a treat with her coins. Emerging again a few moments later, she turned to call for the dogs, whistling through her fingers when she caught sight of them on the jetty, being petted.
Her hand dropped down as Archie Baird-Hamilton smiled back at her. He was sitting on a fishing crate, clearly waiting for her.
Effie walked over, feeling dazzled that he should be here. She had thought she would never see him again after leaving Dunvegan – she had fled the very next morning, before he had come down for breakfast. It had been cowardly, she knew, and she hated herself for it, but she hadn’t known how to say goodbye to him as well as Sholto.
She couldn’t deny it was good to see him again, with his easy smile and those dancing eyes...A moment passed as they took in the differences of two months’ passing. Archie’s hair was perhaps a little longer; she herself was back in boys’ clothes.
‘What are you doing here?’ she asked at last.
‘It’s a nice day for a sail,’ he said. ‘The weather’s been so gloomy lately. I thought I’d make the most of this bit of high pressure.’
‘You sailed here? All the way from Raasay?’
‘It’s not so very far when you come down through the Kyle of Lochalsh.’
Effie blinked. ‘But how did you know I’d be here?’
‘I didn’t. This is all a very happy surprise.’
Her eyes narrowed with open suspicion. Surely it was far too much of a coincidence that he should have moored in the very harbour village where she lived?
‘Honestly. I wanted to test out my new mast.’ He motioned to the Lady Tara , docked alongside.
‘Oh!’ She studied the pristine foremast, remembering the horrors of that passage – and all that had come after it. ‘...Well, it certainly looks a lot better than the last time I saw it.’
‘Indeed.’ He looked up at the mast too, both of them remembering it all. Loaded looks, weighted silences, easy conversation and long shadows in the hallway.
‘How long have you been sitting here?’
‘Long enough to see you’re a demon on that bike.’
She laughed, feeling embarrassed that she’d been caught in her feral state again; it seemed he rarely ever saw her at her well-mannered best. ‘Oh. Aye...Well, it’s great fun, I like it a lot...I’ve never had a bicycle before.’
‘That’s a criminal oversight.’
She laughed again. ‘I know.’
A small silence bloomed as he watched her. ‘...Well, seeing as we’re both here, do you fancy a potter around the sound? I’d be glad of the company...’ He wiggled his eyebrows playfully. ‘And you have provisions.’
‘Not really. It’s rhubarb, for my father.’
‘Ah. Well, as luck would have it, I do have some sandwiches with me.’
She arched an eyebrow. Was that a coincidence, too?
‘Do you have plans for today?’
‘No—’
‘Fine. Then what say you we feast on sandwiches and lemonade on the water, and I’ll drop you back here in a few hours.’
Effie looked at him. His arrival was the only exciting – only happy – thing to have happened to her since her return. She had been determined to make a good fist of it all and not mope – her situation, desperate as it was, was unalterable, and she knew she had to face that – but the only way to suppress her sadness had been to fall into a sort of numbness instead. If she didn’t cry much, nor did she laugh. ‘All right. So long as the dogs come too.’
‘Salty sea dogs – what could be better? What are their names?’
‘Slipper and Socks.’
Archie chuckled.
‘They’re siblings,’ she explained with a smile.
‘Come along, then. Let’s get out there.’ He got up and hopped aboard, but instead of holding out his hand, stepped back and waited for her to follow. Meeting his gaze, she understood that it was a sign he knew her and accepted her, even if she wasn’t a lady.
She jumped aboard, followed by the dogs, and turned her face to the sun, feeling the shadows fall behind her.
‘What’s that?’ she asked, her knees hugged to her chest as she sat in her usual spot beside Archie at the helm.
They had been sailing for a couple of hours, the sail dancing with the wind. To her relief, the water was reassuringly flat and calm, the Isle of Mull lying to their starboard side.
‘Duart Castle. Owned by the MacLeans.’
‘Friends of yours?’
He smiled. ‘Naturally.’
Effie watched him thoughtfully from the corner of her eye. He knew everyone, was wanted at every party; women flocked to be on his arm. And yet there was something enigmatic about him. Not quite reclusive – but elusive. Absent at some times and remarkably, unexpectedly present at others. Now, for instance. She could never have imagined, as she’d woken up in her cottage that morning with her father sleeping on the other side of a sheet wall, that she would be sailing the Sound of Mull with him today. He was easy company, not given to unnecessary chatter; he valued silence as much as good conversation.
‘So how are the others? Have you seen them?’
‘Well, Gladly’s very glum. Everyone’s sort of disbanded. The girls have shot off to France. Colly’s driving around Europe, I believe; he’s got notions of racing the Mille Miglia this summer. Campbell is...Hmm, I’m not sure what Campbell’s up to. London, probably.’ He glanced at her and she wondered whether he was going to make any mention of Sholto, but he offered nothing more.
She looked down at her hands, composing herself. ‘How long did you spend at Dunvegan after I left?’ she asked.
‘Only a few hours. I left the boat there. MacLeod got his man to organize the necessary repairs and I fetched her back a few weeks later.’
‘But weren’t they talking about throwing a party?’
He looked further out to sea. ‘I wasn’t in the mood for socializing.’ He glanced at her. ‘A broken boat can do that to a man.’
She nodded, but they both knew it wasn’t the boat that had lowered his spirits. Her hand fell to Slipper’s head and she ruffled him between the ears. Socks lay at Archie’s feet in a display of trust as well as affection that did not go unnoticed by her; he was the more guarded of the two. She had spoilt Slipper early on with her eager cuddles.
She lay back on the bench with a sigh, folding her arms behind her head, and watching with a melancholy nostalgia as the seabirds wheeled above them. There was something about rolling over the water, listening to the flap and tug of the wind, that soothed her spirit. It wasn’t St Kilda, but there were so many similar sights and sounds that it brought her back to herself somehow, in a way she hadn’t known since the evacuation.
She closed her eyes, feeling the boat’s gentle rise and fall align with the dogs’ snores, the wind rippling over her as Archie cut a path through the sound with skilful insouciance.
If not for her broken heart, she could have almost passed for happy.