were lucky. We picked up a German weather plane on our radar once, thought they might have spotted us, too. But we got away with it this time.’
The words ‘this time’ made Flora flinch. ‘Do you know when you’ll next be sailing?’
He shook his head. ‘Not yet. It’ll take a bit of time to muster the next convoy. Could be a month or so, I imagine. At least the weather should be improving by then. And as the ice retreats we’ll be able to give the north cape a wider berth.’
Flora was silent. She knew he was putting a brave face on it, because the hours of daylight would be lengthening, too, and the convoys would be at sea for longer if they were sailing that much further north. It was a double-edged sword: the changing of the seasons would simply bring different risks, making the journey no less perilous. She tried not to think about that tonight, though. He was here, and she was safe in his arms beside the warmth of the fire. She knew that this was a memory they’d both treasure and so she leaned down to kiss away the lines of tension from his brow, her red-gold hair catching the dancing reflections of the firelight in its depths.
Roy and Hal’s ship remained at anchor in the loch alongside the other merchantmen just long enough for them to have a couple of days off. They spent every moment they could ashore with Mairi and Bridie. The noise levels in the Jellyjar Tavern reached new heights as the safe return of the convoy was celebrated on the first night, and the brothers spent the next day with the girls, walking on the shore and visiting Bridie and Mairi’s homes. Their families were impressed at the good manners and easy humour displayed by the Americans, although Flora overheard Mrs Macdonald telling Bridie that she oughtn’t to set her heart on a Yank who most likely would disappear one way or another before the war came to an end.
Two days later, the merchant ships were refuelled and made ready for the Atlantic crossing once again, ordered to return to the States to pick up another cargo.
Bridie wept uncontrollably as they waved them off. Flora handed her a hankie and put an arm around her shoulders, while Mairi stood shielding her eyes as she tried to keep sight of Roy. He’d disappeared round to the starboard side as he helped his shipmates weigh anchor, but he emerged again to salute her and to blow her a kiss, his blond hair glinting in the silver light that bounced from the surface of the water as the ship’s propellers began to turn, churning the loch into turmoil.
‘They’ll be back,’ Flora said. ‘You know they promised they’d try and get another Arctic run so they can see you again. That shows how much they must like you both – most men probably wouldn’t be too keen to do both the Atlantic and the Arctic runs again so soon . . . if ever.’
‘Oh, oh,’ sobbed Bridie, ‘it’s so dangerous out there. It feels so wrong to wish them to come back when it’s putting their lives in danger. But I can’t help it . . .’ The rest of her sentence was lost as the ship’s whistle blew, its call answered by the other ships in the convoy so that for a minute the hills echoed with the sound.
The three girls watched as the convoy sailed, this time turning westwards from the mouth of the loch. Once the last ship had departed, the tug pulled the boom net closed behind it and the waters of Loch Ewe slowly settled, becoming calm again.
The girls trudged back towards Aultbea, each of them lost in her own thoughts, but then the clouds parted just a little and a ray of spring sunlight shone through.
‘Look,’ Flora nudged Bridie. She pointed to where the sun had coaxed the first primroses of spring to push their heads out from under their mossy coverlets in the sheltered spots alongside the burn and begin tentatively to unfurl their petals. The sight lifted their hearts, just a little, and Bridie began to talk again, more hopefully now, about the picnics they’d be able to go on when the Gustavsen brothers returned.
Lexie, 1978
It’s another diamond day, the loch sparkling after a long spell of rain that has cleared at last. A few fluffy white clouds scud across the blue of the sky, looking