She watched his face as he spoke, noticing the way his features hardened, the shadows of his pain chiselling them into a stony mask. She clasped his hands in hers and held on tight, as if she were determined to keep him from sinking into the darkness by physical force. ‘How long will you have this time before you go back out?’
He shrugged. ‘The next few convoys are to leave from Iceland. It makes more sense to muster there, with the weather improving and the longer days. As the ice front retreats, the ships will be able to sail further north and at least that gets them out of range of strikes from the German airfields, for the most part. So I’m afraid I’ll be gone for a while. I don’t know when I’ll be coming back . . . although they’ll have to give us a bit of leave at some point in the summer. I don’t suppose I’ll be based here again until the autumn, though, when they’ll swap the muster point back to Loch Ewe.’
Flora tried hard not to let her fear and disappointment show. Although she was glad that the convoy route would be further from the German strike bases in Norway, the longer journey would take many more days. And every single one of those days would be filled with the lingering hours of Arctic light, making the ships more visible. She knew that Bridie and Mairi would be disappointed, too. The use of Iceland as the mustering point for the convoys lessened the likelihood that they’d see Roy and Hal back this way before the autumn either.
But the might of the Nazis threatened the whole of Europe, and with the other Axis powers now aligned, the war had spread to the furthest corners of the world. The newsreels that played in the makeshift picture house beside the remote waters of Loch Ewe spoke of RAF bombing raids in Germany and American troops on the ground in the Far East. Places that she’d never heard of before were brought to life in grainy black and white footage: Essen, Lübeck, Valletta, Leningrad, Rangoon, Darwin, Bataan . . . It seemed that nowhere remained untouched by scenes of devastation. And so she knew how vital every boatload of cargo would be in trying to help turn the tide of the war, and felt guilty that so many people were struggling and suffering when all she’d been praying for was Alec’s safe return.
On the final day of his leave, he came to find her at the stable block on his way to rejoin his ship. She finished refilling the hay bag and hung it in the garron’s stall, giving the pony’s broad neck a pat before bolting the half-door behind her. After brushing a few stray strands of straw from her trousers, she hugged Alec.
His face was pale; she noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes and how his cheekbones seemed more sharply defined, despite the last couple of weeks’ shore leave. He barely reciprocated the hug, seeming distracted, and she knew his mind was already out at sea.
For his sake, she kept her voice light, trying to stay cheerful, thinking it would make it easier for him to leave. ‘Well, take care of yourself. I’ll be seeing you.’
But instead of smiling as she’d expected, his face darkened, flushing with anger. And then, without warning, he lashed out, punching the render of the stable wall inches from her shoulder.
She flinched involuntarily, wincing at the sight of his bloodied knuckles, the smear of red on the whitewash.
‘Alec!’ she gasped, shocked and scared. ‘What’s wrong with you?’
In that moment she felt she hardly knew him. The kindness and gentleness of her childhood protector had disappeared and instead she glimpsed within him the possibility of terrible violence, of an anger and sadness that could overwhelm them both. It terrified her.
He covered his face with his hands, his body wracked by silent sobs.
Very gently, wary in case he lashed out again – and at her this time – she put her arms around him and drew his head on to her shoulder, holding him as he sobbed more noisily now.
‘I can’t . . .’ he said at last, when he’d calmed enough to talk again. ‘I just can’t do this, Flora. I can’t keep leaving you. I can’t go back out there. I can’t watch more ships being blasted out of the water. I can’t sail past men crying out for help. I can’t give more orders that I know will cause more death and more suffering.’
She soothed him, stroking his straight dark hair, smoothing it back from his forehead, searching out his eyes with her own. ‘Alec. Do you remember the day I found you here at the stables? The day you were going away to for school for the first time?’
He nodded, his eyes rimmed with red, scarcely able to look her in the face.
‘And do you remember what I told you then? That we’d be here waiting for you? Me, Ruaridh, the garron? Well, we will be. You will come back and I’ll be here. I promise you.’