The Skylark's Secret, стр. 46
The hilltops were blanketed in a layer of fresh snow the next morning, and Flora blew on her hands to warm them a little. She’d just had to change a spark plug in the ambulance she was to drive that day, which had refused to start, and her fingertips were frozen. She climbed into the cab and tried the engine again, breathing a sigh of relief when it started with ease. Her orders were to transfer two patients from the sick bay at the base over to Gairloch, where the hotel had been turned into a military hospital. She scraped the layer of crisp frost from the windscreen and then, as she waited for her charges to be brought out, thrust her hands deep into the pockets of her navy-issue greatcoat and paced back and forth in an attempt to keep warm. Her attention was caught by the sight of a familiar figure emerging from the command hut across the parade ground.
‘Alec!’ she called, waving to attract his attention.
He appeared to be deep in thought, but his eyes, which had been fixed on the path, lit up as he saw her.
He hurried over. ‘Flora, I’m glad you’re here. There’s something I have to tell you.’ The tone of his voice was flat, and she realised that behind his smile his expression was taut with tension.
‘What is it?’
‘Well, the good news is that I’ve been promoted to lieutenant commander.’
‘Why, Alec, that’s wonderful. I thought you still had two more years to go?’
‘I did. They’ve speeded things up a little.’
She searched his face, confused by the lack of enthusiasm in his blunt response.
‘But . . . ?’ she prompted.
His jaw clenched as conflicting emotions played out across his features. ‘But with my promotion comes a new role. I’m going back to sea again, joining one of the destroyers. They’ll be needing them for protecting the convoys to Russia.’
She was silent while she digested this news and its implications, automatically glancing out across the pewter-dark waters of the loch to where the unforgiving sea stirred restlessly, surging and seething among the rocks beyond the point.
‘It could be worse,’ he said. She could tell he was making a deliberate effort to sound cheerful, trying to reassure her. ‘We’ll be mostly escorting ships from Iceland, but I’ll be back here from time to time so I’ll be able to see you still when I’m home. And I’m not leaving immediately. I’ll be here for a couple more weeks – until after Christmas, at least.’
She swallowed hard, choking back the anguish that had closed her throat. ‘That’s something, then,’ she replied when she could get the words out, trying to echo his positive tone.
Just then the two patients were brought out from the sick bay, one managing to walk with the aid of a pair of crutches and the other carried on a stretcher by a pair of orderlies.
‘Sorry, Alec, I have to go. We’ll talk later?’
He nodded miserably.
She longed to wrap her arms around him and feel his warmth, holding him in the safety of her embrace, but constrained by her duty, had to make do with giving him the bravest smile she could manage.
She opened the doors at the back of the truck, helping the walking wounded case to climb in.
Alec lingered alongside the cab, loath to let her go.
‘Drive safely,’ he said. ‘The roads will be icy.’
She caught sight of his reflection in her wing mirror as she pulled out of the camp. He still stood in the middle of the square with his hands thrust into the pockets of his dark blue jacket, his breath hanging above him in a frozen cloud, watching until she lost sight of him.
As she drove along the shore road, she spotted a supply launch as it bounced into the choppy waves from the munitions store in the secluded harbour below Inverewe House, making for one of the ships in the anchorage. Would its deadly cargo be enough to protect the ship if it came under attack from the enemy? And did the men on board know there was another enemy, too, that threatened lives out there beyond the protective arms of Loch Ewe? Quite apart from the Nazi menace, the Arctic seas were treacherous, storm-wracked wastes, cold enough to kill in seconds, filled with swirling, shifting fog thick enough to hide a battleship until it was almost upon its prey.
She knew how brave Alec was, and how capable, too, but the thought of him out there, facing the cruelty of those twin foes without her, froze her blood more than the bitter chill of the day.
The December shooting parties were organised for the second and third weekends of the month so that the Mackenzie-Grants’ guests would be able to take home game birds in time for Christmas. Once again, Sir Charles demanded Flora’s presence in the kitchen of the big house. She agreed cheerfully enough when her father passed on the request; she didn’t mind helping Lady Helen and it just might give her a chance to spend a few extra moments with Alec. Every second they had together was all the more precious with his departure for Iceland looming large.
She arrived early and began setting out the hampers and baskets that would accompany the shooting party to the hill. There were flasks of hot soup to prepare and piles of sandwiches. She cut slices of Madeira cake and wrapped them in brown paper, to be slipped into jacket pockets and eaten in between drives. It was a far simpler picnic than in the days before rationing, but she did her best to make it look as appetising as possible.
As she finished laying it all on the table in the boot room for her father to collect, the kitchen door opened