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 and Lady Helen appeared.
‘Good morning, Flora. I’m so very grateful to you for helping us out again. I hope you’ve managed to find everything? I’ve come in search of more bread – we’re running out in the dining room. Can you spare a few slices of that loaf?’
‘Of course,’ Flora smiled, wielding the breadknife once more.
She turned, hearing another set of footsteps approaching, hoping it might be Alec. But the smile faded from her face as Diana Kingsley-Scott swept into the kitchen.
‘We’re out of hot water. I wonder whether your girl might fill this and bring it back to the dining room.’ She addressed Lady Helen, but handed the silver teapot she was carrying to Flora, scarcely acknowledging her.
‘Certainly, Diana. I’m sorry you had to come through yourself. Would you mind, Flora dear?’
Flora shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. It hadn’t escaped her notice that Diana’s hands were bare of rings as she took the teapot from her. What on earth had happened? Wasn’t she supposed to have had her wedding at the family estate in the autumn? Where was her husband? And – more to the point – why hadn’t Alec mentioned that Diana would be coming to stay for the weekend?
She refilled the pot from the kettle simmering on the stove and followed the two women through the green baize door. The hallway, which had seemed so oppressive when she’d been there at Hogmanay, closed around her again, heavy and forbidding. She squared her shoulders as she pushed open the door to the dining room.
There was no sign of Alec, but Diana was seated to the right of Sir Charles, who was digging into a plate of bacon and eggs with gusto as he regaled his houseguests with tales of previous shoots. He glanced up at the sight of Flora.
‘Ah, the estimable Miss Gordon. How good of you to have graced us with your presence this morning.’ Flora knew his bonhomie was false, an act for the sake of his audience. ‘Tell your father that Miss Kingsley-Scott is going to require the Beretta, would you?’ He turned towards Diana. ‘As it’s your first time out, we’ll start you off with something a little lighter, my dear.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘I wonder where Alec’s got to . . . although after that jolly good dinner last night, it’s not surprising he’s having a bit of a slow start this morning, what?’