‘Thank you.’ I set them aside politely, although the urge to look through them immediately is strong – maybe they’ll offer more clues to whatever it is Bridie’s been keeping from me.
As if she can read my mind, Mairi says, ‘Bridie tells me you’ve been asking some questions about your father’s family.’
‘I have. I suppose having Daisy has opened my eyes a bit to what it must have been like for Mum, raising me on her own. She never said much about my dad. And neither has anyone else. I’m curious to fill in the gaps, so I can pass it on to Daisy when she’s older.’
Mairi nods, holding out her arms to take Daisy from Bridie to give her a rest and let her drink her tea. ‘That’s only natural,’ she says. ‘I know Bridie’s been telling you a lot about the war years, how our lives were turned upside down. I’m happy to tell you all I can remember. The album and those letters will be a good starting point. And then you can ask us any questions after you’ve had a chance to look through them. I’m here for a while, staying with my brother at the farm. We’ll have plenty of opportunities to chat.’
‘Thanks, Mairi,’ I say. ‘I’m grateful to you both.’
I go through to the kitchen to refresh the teapot and as I wait for the kettle to boil, I think how easy it will be now to put in place the missing pieces of my family history. As I come back into the sitting room, though, Mairi is murmuring something to Bridie, who is shaking her head vehemently.
They look up as I come through the door, falling silent, and it seems to me their expressions are a little guarded. They’re both quick to smile again, but I get the impression that those smiles are just a little too bright to be entirely natural.
Hmmm, I think. Perhaps piecing together my mother’s story might still not be quite such a doddle after all.
Flora, 1942
‘They made it safely! They’re on their way back.’ Bridie’s face was alight with joy and relief as she passed on the news to Flora and Mairi. A first lieutenant who worked in the wireless station had told her that the first of the convoys to leave from Loch Ewe had had a safe run to Murmansk, making it through the narrow corridor of sea between the Arctic ice and the north cape of Norway without encountering any enemy action from either the waves beneath them or the skies above.
‘They’ve still a way to go until they’re safe though,’ said Mairi, reluctant to let down her guard until she saw the ships back in the harbour with her own eyes.
‘Yes, but he said they’re almost south of Jan Mayen Island already. If this weather holds they’ll be here within the week. And they’re getting close enough to Iceland now for our battleships to defend them. That should deter the Germans, too.’
Automatically, Flora’s hand went into the pocket of her jacket where she kept the sweetheart brooch when she was on duty. It was her link to Alec out there on the unforgiving seas and she clutched it as tight as a lifeline. For the first time in a month she allowed herself to breathe a little more easily, as a swell of hope surged in her heart with the thought that she’d soon see him back home safely.
It took an age for Alec to disembark when the Isla finally tied up alongside the pier at Mellon Charles. Flora had just finished her shift and she stood on the damp sand at the corner of the bay waiting for him to appear, as the crew made the ship fast and finished up their duties on board. She pulled the sweetheart brooch from her pocket and pinned it to the lapel of her jacket, then blew on her fingers to warm them.
Everyone on the base was overjoyed that the first convoy to leave from Loch Ewe had been successful and all the ships had returned safely. That afternoon, the tugs that operated the boom had drawn back the nets, and the line of ships had sailed slowly into the calm waters without ceremony. The merchantmen dropped anchor on the far side of the island and Mairi and Bridie had cycled off to welcome back Roy and Hal.
The evening chill seeped from the ground through the soles of Flora’s shoes and she stamped her feet, to dispel her impatience as much as to keep her circulation going, as she scanned the faces of the disembarking seamen searching for the one that would make her heart leap with joy. And then there he was at last, and in a few strides he’d covered the final yards between them and was holding her tight. She breathed in the smell of the journey from his thick duffel coat – the damp salt of the sea mingled with the chemical tang of fuel oil – as she lost herself in his kiss.
‘Come back to the house with me,’ he said. ‘I can’t bear to spend another evening without you. It was bad enough being miles away out at sea, but it’ll be torture knowing you’re just down the path while I’m at Ardtuath.’