The Skylark's Secret, стр. 18
‘I want to join the navy when I’m grown,’ Stuart said. ‘Davy can come, too, and we’ll be on a ship together. Maybe we can be on the same ship as your brother.’
‘Well, maybe. As long as you stick at your studies. You’ll need to know all sorts of things if you’re to join up.’
She cut them each another slice of bannock and refilled their cups, recalling how Ruaridh and Alec had sat at the table just like this at the same age, wolfing down their food before running back outside to continue whatever adventure they’d embarked upon that day. She was just reaching again for the pot of jam when a muffled boom made them all turn towards the window.
‘What was that?’ Davy asked, startled into finding his voice at last.
‘Was it a bomb, miss? Are the Germans invading?’
Flora peered out across the loch, but couldn’t see any obvious signs of an explosion at first. As she watched, though, a plume of dark smoke appeared out beyond the island, and several ships were changing course, heading in the direction of the mouth of the loch.
‘I don’t think so. But something’s going on. Don’t worry,’ she said, catching sight of the fear on Davy’s face. ‘We’re better protected here than pretty much anywhere else in the country. The navy will look after us. Let’s put our boots on and go and see what’s happened. Here, you can take this with you to eat on the way. Don’t let it spoil your lunch, though, or Mrs Carmichael will be after me!’
There was a buzz of activity around the loch, but it was impossible to make out exactly what was going on. The main focus seemed to be on a point out beyond the mouth of the loch, obscured by the island. They walked towards the jetty, overtaken by a series of military vehicles that sped past them in the same direction.
A small crowd had gathered near the pier. Flora caught sight of Bridie and Mairi in the throng. ‘What is it?’ she asked.
‘They say it’s the Nelson. She’s hit a mine.’
A jolt of panic flooded Flora’s veins. Alec’s ship. ‘How bad is it? Has she sunk?’
‘Don’t think so.’ Bridie shrugged. ‘But the ship’s holed. It’s going to take them a while to bring her in.’
Flora blanched at the sight of a fleet of ambulances driving fast along the road from the camp. They pulled up at the end of the jetty and several uniformed men jumped out, hurrying to throw medical supplies and equipment into a waiting launch. They clambered down the ladder on the harbour wall and the boat sped out into the loch as soon as the last of them had taken his seat.
‘That doesn’t look good.’ Mairi frowned.
Flora wrung her hands in frustration at not being able to do anything, not knowing whether Alec might be among the casualties.
‘Clear the way now! Go back to your homes! All non-naval personnel are to leave the area immediately.’ Mr Carmichael bustled forward importantly, his ARP helmet firmly on his head, asserting his authority. Then he caught sight of the two boys who were hopping from foot to foot, caught up in the excitement of the drama unfolding on the water. ‘Stuart and David Laverock, what are you doing here?’ he bellowed. ‘Get yourselves home immediately.’
Flora gave them a sympathetic smile and nodded her head. ‘Best get back now. Mrs Carmichael will be worrying about you. And it’s nearly lunchtime.’ She shooed them gently towards the house next to the jetty.
She and Mairi walked with Bridie as far as the Macdonalds’ house, where they stood at the gate for a moment, watching the activity out on the loch. Painfully slowly, and listing heavily to one side, the bulk of the Nelson drew into view, closely flanked by two destroyers, making for the harbour.
‘You know, we should join up,’ Bridie said. ‘One of the sailors I was talking to on the jetty said they’re recruiting Wrens. Apparently they need drivers and all sorts.’
‘But we can’t drive,’ pointed out Flora.
Bridie waved a hand dismissively. ‘We can learn. And there must be other things we can do, too.’
Mairi nodded. ‘She’s right. After all, we can’t just sit by and watch while ships are being blown up right on our doorstep.’
Flora thought of the ambulances speeding towards the jetty. If either Ruaridh or Alec needed help, she’d be one of the first to respond. Her heart lurched again as she sent up a silent prayer that Alec wasn’t among the casualties on the wounded vessel as it crept towards the shore.
The thought of the injured men decided it. ‘All right. We’ll go this afternoon then. Come and call for me after lunch and we can walk over to the camp and ask.’
Lexie, 1978
Every surface of Mum’s sitting room is filled with photos in frames. Before the arrival of Hurricane Daisy, they were interspersed with herds of china animals and hordes of glass knick-knacks, but those have now been packed away for safekeeping. Daisy has mastered the art of a surprisingly fast commando crawl and the ability to lever herself on to her feet if there’s anything to hang on to, so everything precious and breakable on the lower shelves and the coffee table has been moved to higher ground out of the way of her exploring fingers.
I’ve just left one of the little china ornaments out, a tiny white horse that was always Mum’s favourite. I pick it up and stroke the lines of its long mane with my forefinger before carefully replacing it between two of the picture frames.
Many of the photos are of me, at every stage of my childhood and then on into my stage career: I talk Daisy through them and she looks politely at each one as