How dare these people come here now and frighten her sister? How dare they step ashore as if they had the right?
I want my Da!
Breesha’s fists clenched tight with rage. Rage at Finn, for betraying them – bringing their enemies to the island, as if he didn’t know! Rage at her Da, for not being here any more when they needed him. If her Da were here this couldn’t be happening. How dare you! How dare you not be here now! I hate you, Da! I hate you! Breesha caught her breath with a shiver.
‘Mam!’ She tugged her mother’s sleeve again. ‘Mam, will I go and find Billy?’
Diya was still staring numbly at the strangers standing up there on the island. She gave herself a little shake. ‘For what, Breesha veen?’ she said. ‘Billy’ll come soon enough. I told you to go and wake Lucy – and put the pot back on. Go on. I mean it, Breesha! Now!’
Breesha scowled, and suddenly ran, dodging past the invaders without a word of acknowledgement, and disappearing behind the Tullachan.
Diya came slowly up the rocks, holding Mally’s hand so hard that it hurt. Her throat felt tight. She was trembling, but she willed herself to stop, or Mally would feel it through their clasped hands.
The time has come, Diya beti. Koi hai – is anyone there? He’s waiting for you on the veranda. Your father is here! Usually Father comes and sits on the veranda for a short time only. He brings presents – a doll, ribbons, bangles, metai. He asks what Diya has learned, has she been good, is she happy, is she well, is she clever? Yes, his little Diya is all of these things, and he smiles, and smiles again, and in a little while he takes his leave, as always. But not this time. This time Diya is going too. Her small square box is packed and tied with a strap. A label in English writing is tied to the strap. Because now Diya is leaving the safe place, the cool house, the hot garden with its enclosing walls and swept paths, the tank, the courtyard, the tamarisk tree, the borders filled with marigolds and Mittu the parrot. Goodbye, Aji, goodbye, my very own Ajoba. I never saw Aji weep before. Goodbye to all of you. Goodbye, Diya beti! But I didn’t know then that it was goodbye for ever.
She looked so mournful, stepping over the slippery rocks, clasping her child’s hand in hers. For the little girl was clearly hers. The child had the same brown skin, same delicate features. And when the two of them looked up at him, they had the same dark, unhappy eyes. Was it his fault? Was it their presence here that caused such sorrow? Archie stepped forward uncomfortably, and held out his hand to help the woman over the difficult rock step.
She ignored the outstretched hand, and jumped up easily on to the grass, the child following. When she stood facing him, her eyes were on a level with his own. Both woman and child gazed at him unwinkingly, and their eyes seemed to hold all the reproach in the world. ‘You will be the Commissioners of Northern Lights, I think?’
‘Not in person,’ stammered Archie. She spoke like a gentlewoman. He hadn’t expected that. She seemed perfectly collected, not nervous of him at all. It was just that her eyes were saying something so very different. He cleared his throat. ‘Archibald Buchanan, ma’am, at your service. We’re the surveyors employed by Mr Stevenson, the engineer. I believe you’ve been notified … you had a letter, I mean. You were expecting our arrival?’ He hated himself for sounding so hesitant, but then, he was used to dealing with men, not beautiful women with dark eyes that looked at him as if he were a murderer.
‘My sister had a letter.’
‘You’re not …’ He’d been about to say, ‘Miss Geddes’, but a woman with a child in her hand who was so clearly a replica of herself should obviously not be addressed as Miss.
‘I am Mrs Geddes. My late husband was the lightkeeper.’
Every word she spoke made it seem the more extraordinary that she was here. She was a lady. She spoke the King’s English. Her skin was as brown as a hazelnut. She wore gold studs in her ears, and a sacking apron stained with soil. He saw that her hands were dirty, covered with earth in fact. She didn’t take her eyes off him. Ben was standing right beside him, but she didn’t even glance in his direction. She was steadfastly watching Archie.
She saw Archie looking at her hands. ‘You must excuse us, Mr Buchanan. We were working in the garden when my daughter saw the Betsey.’
‘Not at all.’ Everything she said somehow put Archie at a disadvantage. He pulled himself together. ‘I’m very sorry if our presence on the island inconveniences you at all, ma’am. We’re here to do the preliminary survey for the new lighthouse on Ellan Bride. We’ll be staying for a couple of days. I believe the letter from the Commissioners asked you if you would be so kind as to accommodate us during our stay?’
‘We’ve brought our own provisions,’ put in Ben suddenly. He smiled at the lightkeeper’s widow. Trust Young Archibald to get on his high horse, just when you could see the poor woman, and her bairn too, were simply terrified. They weren’t exactly the sort of people he’d been expecting, but that probably made it worse for them. Foreigners – that was obvious. He wondered how on earth they got to be here – how the hell had the Ellan Bride lightkeeeper managed to pick up anything this exotic? But that was of no consequence just now. Brown-skinned Mrs Geddes might be, but she’d turn men’s heads in the Canongate. The effect in this remote place, and with the child clinging like a little elf at her side, was quite unnerving. But Ben felt sorry for her more than anything. ‘We’ll try not to get in your way too much, missus. We’ll be out all day. But a roof over our heads at night – that’s all we’ll be needing, and I hope we’ll no be a trouble to you.’
The big, ugly man was much the nicer, thought Mally. She sneaked a look up at Ben, who caught her eye and winked. Mally looked down, shrinking back against her mother’s skirts.
And yet Ben had seen the wee lass jumping up and down, squealing with delight at the boatman when he offloaded the pigs. Ben grinned at Mally and said, ‘Should we no be letting the grice – the pigs – out of that box, don’t you think? They’ve been cooped up in there a long time.’
Mally glanced at the crate, and looked wide-eyed up at Ben.
‘If you tell me where to take them, I can carry them up for you.’
Mally looked at Mam. Mam said, ‘You show him, Mally.’
It was too hard to speak to a person Mally had never seen before in her life. He wasn’t like anyone she knew. But Billy had freckles too, in the summer, and when the man smiled it seemed to remind her just a bit of another smiling face she’d once known well, but couldn’t quite remember. Mally, still holding Mam’s hand, but not so hard now, pointed dumbly towards the house. Ben followed her pointing finger. You couldn’t see the house from here; it was hidden behind the Tullachan, a low green knoll between the jetty and the garden. Mally would have liked to explain that to Ben, but it would have meant speaking to him, and that she couldn’t quite do. Not yet.
‘Come up to the house, gentlemen,’ said Diya. ‘You’ll be hungry, and there’s broth on the fire. You won’t have had any dinner. Mally, show the kind man where the piglings are to go.’
‘Ben,’ said Ben, introducing himself. ‘Benjamin Groat, missus. And what’s your name, young lady?’
Mally opened her mouth to whisper, but the obstinate words wouldn’t come out.
‘This is my daughter Mary,’ Diya said. ‘We call her Mally. You must forgive her, Mr Groat. We don’t usually see strangers here.’
Diya gave Mally a little push, and watched her silently lead Ben away. She turned to pick up one of the sacks.
‘Will I take that for you?’
‘I can manage it, thank you.’ Diya swung the sack of oatmeal onto her shoulder. ‘Perhaps you should bring that case of yours; you don’t want your papers to get wet.’