Diya, Breesha and Mally grabbed the bundles as they were dumped on the seaweed and carried them over the slippery rocks. And what extraordinary gear it was: a long wooden box, a roll of chain, a stack of poles roped together, a heavy wooden box with a lid. ‘Take care with that one!’ the big fellow called as Breesha and Diya lifted the box between them. A portmanteau came up, and a canvas haversack. Mally picked up a black leather case. It was heavy, but she managed to heave it up onto the grass. Then came a sack of meal: that was more normal. And last of all: ‘It’s the piglings!’ screamed Mally, the strangers momentarily forgotten. ‘Finn, you’ve brought the piglings!’
‘I have that, Mally, I have that!’
The crate with the piglets was heavy. Finn and Juan got it onto the gunwale. The next wave rose. Archie and Ben grabbed it by its rope and swung it across. On the slippery weed they managed to get their hands under the crate, and together they manhandled it up to dry rock. The piglets squealed furiously, and scrabbled about so the weight kept shifting. The woman was going to try to take the crate from them, but Archie brushed her off. ‘S’all right. This one’s heavy.’ There were shouts from below. Archie and Ben shoved the crate up the last awkward step and dumped it on the grass.
When they looked round the Betsey was already halfway out of the giau. Two pairs of oars were working furiously against wind and tide. The yawl was barely moving. It was going to be a damn close thing. Archie straightened up, brushing his coat sleeves, as he willed the boat to get off: Finn had done the job and got them ashore – he deserved not to be stuck here. They hadn’t had time to discuss the likelihood of him getting back to collect them on Monday or Tuesday. Well, Finn knew what they wanted, and he’d come back when he could. Anyway, he still had another two shillings to collect. And there were so many more things to ask him …
The Betsey fought the swell at the mouth of the giau, hung in the balance, and came up into the wind. A minute later she hoisted her sail and headed off on the port tack. ‘That’s it,’ said Ben. ‘They’ll make it now. They’ll get round the island while it’s slack water, and beat back with the flood on the windward side.’
Once the boat was under way Diya reluctantly turned inland. The two intruders were on the grass just above them, staring out to sea. They’d still be able to see the Betsey from up there. A moment later the boat must have vanished from their sight, because now the men were looking down at them.
Breesha pulled urgently at her mother’s sleeve. ‘Shall I go and wake Lucy?’ she whispered.
‘Yes, go now. Quickly! And Breesha … put the broth back over the fire, so it’ll be hot.’
‘We’re not going to give them anything?’
‘Indeed we are, Breesha veen. You must always be civil to the stranger at your door. You know that!’
‘But not these …’ Breesha remembered she wasn’t supposed to know who they were. Better warn Mally not to give anything away either. But Mally, now that the flurry of activity was over, was clinging close to Mam, clutching a corner of Diya’s old gardening pinafore, thumb in mouth, like a great baby. Mally had clung to Mam like that once before, when they’d gone ashore at Port St Mary last year and Mally had been so upset by the strange people. She’d kept saying, ‘Who’s that, who’s that?’ and Mam had kept on answering, ‘I don’t know who it is, Mally veen. We don’t know everybody!’ Mally’s voice had sounded so small and frightened, quite unlike her usual self, as she’d gripped her mother’s cloak tightly in both hands. ‘But why don’t we know them? Why?’
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
