“No, I can’t do that. Oh, I could do the routine work all right; but sooner or later I would find myself in a situation that I’m not capable of handling now. Sooner or later someone’s life is going to be at risk, and I’m not going to be able to cope. That’s what being a geologist is all about.”
“Strange,” Catriona murmured dryly, not wanting him to see her disappointment. “I thought it was about looking for minerals.”
“Often in remote and dangerous parts of the world,” Magnus insisted. “In situations where you’ve got to be able to rely on the other members of your team, and what sane man could trust his life to me now….”
His bitterness made her want to cry.
“Oh, Magnus, you don’t know that….”
“Oh yes, I do,” he said with bitter finality. “Don’t you think I’ve not been over and over it all these last few months? It’s over, Cat. As a geologist I’m finished, but that doesn’t mean the end of everything. I got this yesterday, it came after you’d left.” He handed her an envelope.
The mailboat called once a week, and Catriona stared at the impressively typed letter. It was addressed to the owners of Falla Island, and her colour faded, as she read and re-read it, her lips pursed together in an angry line.
“Magnus, we can’t possibly agree to this!” she protested as she put it down. “An oil terminal on Falla? They must be mad!”
“Not necessarily,” Magnus contradicted. There was a briskness in his voice which made Catriona glance curiously at him. On his return from hospital and during the long months which had followed he had seemed to share her bitter hatred of all things oil completely, but now she was forced to admit that she must have misjudged his sentiments.
“Come and look at this,” he commanded, opening his desk and getting out a map of the island. It was one he himself had drawn while he was at university, and although only a week ago seeing him take such an interest in things would have filled her with joy, now Catriona felt only apprehension as she watched him unroll the map and study it deeply before calling her over.
“Here’s Falla Voe, and next to it the harbour. You remember how I once told you how these voes were formed during the Ice Age and how unimaginably deep they are?” When Catriona nodded he continued enthusiastically, “You’ve seen how successful the oil terminal at Sullom Voe is—well, what the construction company are planning is a much smaller but similar operation here, to be used as a back-up system.”
“But it would ruin Falla,” Catriona protested, hardly able to believe her ears. Surely Magnus couldn’t be in favour of it?
“Come with me.”
Taking her hand, he led her from the library and back out into the hall, throwing open the huge double doors to the drawing room. The plaster ceiling was tinged with mould, the furniture covered in dusty sheets, the whole room permeated with an unpleasant damp odour. Silently Catriona stared at her brother, wondering why he had brought her here.
“Don’t you see?” he said gently. “With the money we would get for allowing them to build the terminal this house could be restored to what it once was. We could buy a new generator instead of having to rely on one that runs on a hope and prayer. You could go back to London.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and studied her intently. “I know how you feel about the oil industry, Cat, but you mustn’t let it ruin your life—and not just yours,” he added inexorably, drawing her to the window. “Think of our people and how much this could mean to them. They’re barely scratching a living here; as soon as the children are old enough they’re leaving. Do you honestly want Falla to become just another deserted island, empty of people?”
“And do you honestly want to sell your birthright for… for an oil terminal on your doorstep?” Catriona protested. “It would ruin Falla, Magnus….” She could hardly believe that he was actually serious. They were poor, yes, but they could manage. But could they? She remembered uneasily how quickly her slender store of money had disappeared in Lerwick; already they were dependent on the crofters for milk and vegetables from their gardens; Catriona had returned to Falla too late to make use of its brief summer, and those same crofters who generously shared their produce with them were, as Magnus had reminded her, poor themselves. Was she being selfish in wanting to keep Falla as it had always been? A fierce wave of hatred seized her. Wherever she turned it all came back to the same thing: oil. If it hadn’t been for oil Magnus would be whole and well and there would be no need to even contemplate this… this rape of their home.
“So you’re in favour?”
Her eyes begged him to deny it, and for a moment Magnus’s face softened.
“I think we should at least let them do some explorative work, for the sake of the islanders if nothing else. Don’t you see, Cat,” he said softly, “we don’t have the right to deny them this opportunity, and if they do go ahead it won’t soil Falla; the Government are pretty stiff about these things. Anyway, that’s a long way off, these geologists they want to send out might not find the voe suitable.”
“Geologists?” Catriona said eagerly. “Oh, Magnus, why don’t you offer to do the work? I’m sure….”
“No!”
The harsh word cut across her excitement, dashing all her newly sprung hopes.
“I might know in my heart that this terminal is right for Falla, but don’t expect me to take any professional interest in it. I’ve told you, Cat, I don’t have what it takes any more. Investigating that voe means that someone will have to dive into those waters, examine those undersea cliffs,” he told her brutally, “relying only on a back-up team on land. Do you think anyone would trust me to be a member of that team after what happened in the Gulf?”
The anguish in his voice made her blench.
“But, Magnus, nothing did happen. You were knocked out and left for dead….”
“And when I came round I was alive and all around me my colleagues, my friends were dying in agony, and I didn’t do a thing to help.”
“You couldn’t do anything to help,” Catriona protested, not sure whether to be glad or sorry that he was at last discussing with her the story she had only so far heard from Mac. “You were paralysed.”
“With fear,” Magnus said with deep loathing. “Paralysed with fear, while all around me men were on fire.”
“You weren’t paralysed with fear,” Catriona protested. “Mac explained it all to me, Magnus, the blow you received did that….”
“Oh, for God’s sake stop trying to make it easier for me!” Magnus demanded harshly. “God, I wish I had died there. You can’t know the hell life has been ever since.” He dropped into a chair, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking.
“Look at me, Cat,” he commanded bitterly. “I’m not even a man any longer….” His eyes were bleak and hopeless, arousing all her protective instincts. How could he call himself a coward when he was brave enough to endure the sight of men who he claimed would only have contempt for him, on this island which was his retreat, and for the benefit of others?
CATRIONA was just lifting the bread tins out of the oven when she heard the helicopter overhead. Ten minutes later there was a knock on the back
