The Skylark's Secret, стр. 82
‘So,’ he says, when at last he’s got his breath back enough to speak, ‘who’s the rescuer now, might I ask, Lexie Gordon?’
Flora, 1944
As the day of Alec’s departure approached, she sensed the darkness growing in him once more. The precious couple of days they’d spent camping in the old bothy had brought them closer than ever before, and for a little while she’d been able to convince herself that her love really could be enough to heal him, keeping the shadows at bay. But as the coming weeks of separation loomed, she could feel him pulling away from her again, distant and distracted. Her doubts came rushing back in to fill the gap.
She’d wanted to spend every moment she could with him, but her work at the base kept them apart. And her anxiety increased still more when he stopped coming to Keeper’s Cottage for his usual evening visits to sit in the kitchen with her and her father and Ruaridh and share a dram or two of whisky.
The activity in the harbour had taken on a greater sense of urgency, signalling the imminent departure of the convoy, and Flora was struggling to concentrate on the engine she was fixing. She glanced up when she heard the crunch of boots on the shingle, pushing a stray lock of hair from her eyes with the back of one oil-streaked hand.
‘Alec!’ Her heart gave a bound at the sight of him.
He returned her kiss, but not her smile, and his eyes didn’t quite meet hers.
‘It’s good to see you,’ she continued. ‘I was worrying you’d be off soon and we might not get a chance to say our goodbyes.’ She wiped her hands on a rag and tucked the loose strand of hair back into her braid.
He looked out across the bay to where the Kite was anchored. ‘I’ve come to say them now,’ he said. ‘We’ll not be sailing until the morning, but I won’t get a chance to see you again before I go.’
‘Won’t you be able to come to the cottage tonight, then? You know Dad and Ruaridh would love to see you.’
He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not. I’ve a few things to do at home. And then I have to be on board early to make ready the ship before we catch the tide.’
It was there again, the unnerving distance between them. She wrapped her arms around him, trying to reclaim a little of the closeness of that night when she’d lain in his arms beneath the stars, but it was as if he’d already left her, his mind anticipating the next brutal journey stretching ahead of him.
‘Och well then, I’ll be seeing you.’ She hoped the familiar words would make him smile, but his expression was still serious as he stooped to kiss her one last time. And then he turned and walked away, back up the beach towards Ardtuath House.
Trying to shrug off the fear she felt – for him, for them – Flora watched him go, hoping he’d turn and smile and wave so she could tell herself that everything would be all right. But he carried on without a backward glance. As he disappeared from view, she reluctantly picked up a wrench and turned her attention back to the job in hand.
She was just finishing up for the day, returning her tools to the store at the top of the base, when she saw the car. The driver and his passenger didn’t notice her standing by the corrugated tin wall of the hut, but their windows were open to make the most of the light and warmth of the summer’s evening, and she saw them quite clearly.
As Alec accelerated, a lock of Diana Kingsley-Scott’s blonde hair fluttered in the breeze, mocking Flora as she watched them drive away.
A surge of fury and humiliation – the culmination of all those times before when she’d felt the shame of her exclusion from Alec’s world – coursed through her veins. Diana couldn’t just have arrived at Ardtuath House out of the blue. She must have been there for a few days and Alec hadn’t told her. Not only that, he’d been avoiding her: it explained the sudden end to his usual evening visits. He’d have been enjoying fancy dinners with his parents and Diana in the dining room of the big house. It stung so much more after the days and nights they’d spent together on the hill. What a fool she’d been, believing his protestations of innocence when Diana had been there in December for the shooting weekend. This must have been going on ever since, and all that time he’d been using her. She wouldn’t be humiliated by him again though. Her fingers closed around the sweetheart brooch in her pocket, gripping it so hard its corners pierced her skin.
She pulled it out and looked at it where it lay in the palm of her hand, where the silver of the laurel wreath was tarnished with a rust-coloured bead of her blood.
She ran up the path to the house, tripping over the roots of the pines in her haste. She didn’t want to see Alec so she needed to drop off the letter before he got back from wherever he’d been going with Diana. To her relief there was no sign of his car, and the outer front door stood open. She laid the envelope containing her