At last the glow of the fire began to fade, the peats crumbling to grey dust. Alec stood, brushing crumbs from his jumper, and took her hand to help her up. Beyond the shelter of the bothy wall, the wind was like a cold blade against their cheeks.
‘Looks like your father was right,’ he said, glancing to the west. As the winter sun slipped towards the sea, a bank of dark clouds rose to meet it, hungrily devouring the light. ‘There’s another storm coming in. We’d best be getting back.’
By the time they’d reached the cottage, the darkness had enveloped the loch and the wind had turned from a tease to a bully. Drawing the blackout to shut out the threatening storm, Flora shivered a little despite the warmth of the kitchen. This was no night to be out at sea. She was thankful Alec was on shore, and thought maybe the storm would delay the departure of that next Atlantic convoy. She just hoped all the ships were now safely gathered inside the harbour.
At first, as she surfaced from her sleep, Flora thought the banging was part of the symphony of the storm, a bass beat joining the banshee howl of the wind and the rush of sleety snow being driven against the walls of the cottage. But then she realised the rhythmic, insistent knocking was someone at the door. She scrambled out of bed, hearing her father’s footsteps in the corridor as he went to answer it.
It was early morning, still dark outside. Alec stepped across the threshold, quickly pulling the door shut behind him as the storm threatened to wrench it from his grasp. Rivulets of melting snow ran from his oilskins and pooled on the floor around his boots.
‘There’s a ship in trouble out beyond the point,’ he said. ‘We’re going to need more hands, stretchers, ambulances. Flora and Ruaridh . . . ?’
‘We’re here,’ said Ruaridh, already pulling on a jersey and reaching past Alec for his own waterproofs, which hung next to the door.
In her room, Flora hastily tucked her nightdress into a pair of trousers and grabbed her greatcoat. ‘Drop me at the base,’ she told them as they jumped into the car at the gate, its engine already running. ‘I’ll get the ambulance and pick up Mairi on the way past. We’ll catch up with you at the end of the road.’
Alec nodded. ‘It’s gone on to the rocks at Furadh Mor. It’s not going to be easy to reach them. Bring the ambulance along the track as far as you safely can.’
In the darkness, the truck’s headlights were scarcely able to pierce the spinning eddies of snow that lashed the windscreen. Flora peered ahead, her eyes straining to pick out landmarks, driving as fast as she dared, thankful that she knew every twist and turn like the back of her hand. The gale pummelled the sides of the ambulance, making it sway and lurch, the snow rattling against the metal like machine-gun fire, and she had to fight to keep it on the road, which was slippery with melting sleet. Mairi sat beside her, white-faced and tense, gripping the sides of her seat.
Flora knew what was on her mind. Just the other day, Bridie had shown her a postcard from Hal saying that the brothers were on their way back to Loch Ewe having managed to get berths on one of the Liberty ships coming up from London, which would meet with others there before returning to America to pick up another cargo. Neither girl spoke as the ambulance battled onwards through the storm, but they both shared the same fear and each prayed silently that Hal and Roy were on some other ship, in some other port, weathering the storm.
There was already a small cluster of military vehicles parked haphazardly where the road ended, just beyond the croft houses at Cove. A door opened as a frozen, bedraggled casualty was helped inside, to where Mrs Kennedy and Mrs McKenzie were doing what they could to warm those who’d managed to make it ashore through the seething waves. Flora gingerly edged the ambulance past and manoeuvred it along the rough track, pulling up behind another truck that had already stopped at the top of the cliff, its headlights illuminating the thick veil of snow and the roiling waters beyond.
‘Have you got a stretcher?’ shouted a man with a captain’s stripes on his coat sleeves. ‘Hand it over to them’ – he gesticulated to Alec and Ruaridh – ‘and bring what supplies you can. There are casualties on the shore, but be careful. That cliff path is dangerous and we can’t afford any more injuries.’
Flora gasped as she reached the cliff edge. Beneath them, at the bottom of the sheer rocky path, the beach was veiled by the driving snow. Over the fury of the wind, she could hear waves crashing on to the rocks with the full force of the Atlantic. She strained her eyes to see the foundering ship, but there was only sleet-swept blackness beyond the beam of the ambulance headlights. She started down first, with Mairi close on her heels, scrambling into the unknown as the storm grabbed at her coat and whipped her hair across her face, trying to pluck her from the rocks and throw her into the raging cauldron that roared somewhere beneath them.