party, and when she did, she’d been unable to contain her feelings.
‘But Flora darling,’ he’d remonstrated, ‘Diana is nothing to me. It was my father who invited her up for the weekend. I didn’t even know she was going to be there until she appeared with her parents. She’s had a bit of a hard time of it, being jilted only a month before the wedding, although I’m sure she’ll find someone else now that she’s back in London.’
Instead of reassuring her, every word Alec spoke seemed to fan the flames of Flora’s insecurity. She was well aware that if Sir Charles had anything to do with it, Alec and Diana would be engaged again in a heartbeat. But she’d relented a little on his last day, not wanting to wave him off with that horrible distance yawning between them. She’d told him she loved him and allowed herself to relax in the circle of his arms.
But now that he was gone on duty with the convoys, she bitterly resented having argued with him at all. She missed him dreadfully, she confessed to Mairi as they crossed the parade square at the base, making for the canteen.
When they walked through the door, Bridie hurried out from her place behind the counter, her face pinched with grief. She was wiping her hands on a teacloth and continued to twist it in her distress as she told them the news.
‘The Carmichaels have had a telegram. I saw the postie knocking at their door on my way here this morning, so I popped in to ask Miss Cameron about it and she said it was bad news about Matthew, but she wouldn’t say if he was captured or hurt. He’s the one who was out in the Far East, isn’t he?’
Mairi nodded. ‘Last we heard. His battalion was in Malaya and then they were forced back to Singapore. I know she was worried about him when news came through of the surrender there. Mum was talking to her about it just the other day.’
‘Do you think we should call in after work?’
‘Let’s leave it until we know more. Mum’ll have gone round, I expect. We’ll hear soon enough.’
Flora reached over and gently took the dish towel from Bridie. ‘Sit down for a moment. This is a shock for us all.’
Matthew had been in the year above them at school, and his younger brother, Jamie, had been in their year. Johnny, the eldest, was three years older. All three of the Carmichael boys were courageous and skilful shinty players. In her mind’s eye Flora could see them practising with their sticks on the beach, their long limbs stretching with athletic ease as they flicked the ball from one to another. Loch Ewe was a far cry for the three of them now: Johnny and Jamie were fighting in the desert in North Africa. She tried to picture where Matthew might be – in a prisoner-of-war camp, perhaps, among his friends from the Argyll and Sutherland Highlanders. She pushed away another image, a more haunting one, of a body spreadeagled on the jungle floor, helpless beneath thick green foliage whose shade could offer no respite from the tropical heat.
Once their shift was over, the three girls decided to walk into Aultbea to see whether Mairi’s mother had any news. On the way, Flora spotted the Laverock boys down on the shore. They had makeshift catapults and were practising aiming pebbles at a larger rock.
‘Stuart! Davy!’ she called, hurrying across the damp sand.
She saw Davy flinch at the sound of his name, and wariness was written on their faces as they turned towards her. Both boys were shivering in the damp chill of the February dusk.
‘Hello, Miss Flora.’ Stuart relaxed visibly at the sight of her, although his face was pale in the fading light.
‘We heard there was a telegram for the Carmichaels this morning.’
Stuart nodded. She could see from his expression what he was going to say next. ‘Matthew’s dead. Mrs C went to pieces. We didn’t want to go back there after school, so we stayed out here instead.’
Davy held up his slingshot. ‘We’ve made gutties from a bit of one of those balloon things. We’re practising so that if the Germans come we can get them.’
True to Iain’s prediction, the barrage balloons hadn’t lasted the winter. They’d bobbed over the loch for a few weeks, but the merciless westerly storms had ripped them from their cables, scattering tattered sheets of the material far