He pushed open the library door and the strains of a Debussy nocturne drew them across the threshold into the room. In an armchair beside a fire whose embers burned low, Alec’s mother sat with her hands folded in her lap, her head resting against one wing of the chair as she listened to the gramophone.
‘Hello, Ma,’ said Alec softly.
She turned to face them, the distant – and rather sad – look in her eyes transforming into a smile at the sight of her son.
‘Alec? And Flora too – how lovely.’
‘A good new year, Lady Helen,’ Flora said, feeling she had intruded on a private moment. In the firelight, she noticed a few strands of silver gleaming in Lady Helen’s hair, smoothed back into its usual elegant chignon. There had been a look of loneliness in her dark eyes that had surprised Flora. Surely she must be feeling less isolated now that her husband had come back to Ardtuath House?
‘And to you both too, my dears. How was the dance?’
‘It was fun, thank you,’ replied Flora politely.
‘Is Father in bed already?’ asked Alec.
His mother nodded. ‘He was tired. He’s been so busy in London since Christmas, closing up the house there.’ She turned to Flora. ‘I’m sure your father’s told you my husband has decided to stay up at Ardtuath now, which comes as a big relief to us all. London’s such a target for the Germans. What a luxury it will be for me, having both my menfolk home. At least this dratted war has one or two advantages.’
Alec crossed the room to his mother and stooped to kiss her cheek. ‘I’m just going to take Flora home. But we thought we’d stop off here on the way to collect some of the Christmas cake and maybe a dram of whisky for first-footing Iain.’
‘Good idea. Help yourselves; the cake’s in the larder.’
The record ended, the needle crackling faintly, and she reached to switch it off. From upstairs came a series of heavy footsteps crossing the floorboards. At the sound, Lady Helen froze for a moment. Then she stood, lowering her voice as she said, ‘Don’t disturb your father though, Alec. You know how he can be. I’d better be getting off to my bed, too. Good night, Flora.’ She hesitated, then stepped across to a side table where bottles and glasses stood on a silver tray. ‘Here,’ she said, picking up a bottle of whisky. ‘Give this to Iain. He’s certainly earned it, with all the extra work he’s been doing around the estate. Heaven knows how we’d be able to manage without him now we’ve no factor.’
Flora whispered a thank you and then Lady Helen quietly ushered them back into the kitchen, softly closing the door behind them. They heard her making her way upstairs and then the low rumble of Sir Charles’s voice, questioning, followed by the soft, placatory tones of her reply.
Alec cut a generous slice of fruit cake and put it in a wicker basket, then added a lump of coal from the scuttle next to the range, wrapping it in a piece of newspaper. Flora nestled the bottle of whisky in alongside the cake and nodded as Alec gestured silently towards the door.
Stepping outside, their breath hung in white clouds on the cold night air. They got into the car and Alec let off the handbrake, freewheeling down the drive beneath the canopy of dark pine branches, only starting the engine once they were almost at the road.
As they emerged from beneath the trees, turning northwards, both of them gasped in astonishment. For while their backs had been turned, the black of the night sky had been draped with curtains of light that billowed and surged above the far horizon.
Alec pulled in to the side of the road. ‘How’s that for a Hogmanay show?’
Flora’s eyes shone as the sheets of colour turned from green to silver and back again. ‘Even the blackout can’t stop the Northern Lights.’
Still looking straight ahead to the northern horizon, she slipped her hand into his, and his fingers curled tight around hers as they sat in silence, watching the display. The ethereal glow bathed the landscape, transforming the familiar hills into a mysterious otherworld surrounding the waters of the loch, which reflected the swirling colours in their depths.
At last the dancing swathes of light began to fade, becoming fainter as the night stars reclaimed the sky, and the final reflections of the coloured strands sank into the darkening water.
Alec turned in his seat to look at Flora, watching as she gazed on the last of the pale green glow as it died away.
‘Would you come out with me? The next time we both have a day off? We could go to the beach at Firemore, or Slaggan Bay perhaps, if it’s fine. Do you remember when we walked there with your dad all those summers ago?’