one evening?’ he asks. ‘Just the two of us, maybe?’
I nod. ‘I’d like that. Very much.’
‘It’s a date, then.’ Davy smiles at me. ‘Not a date-date, of course,’ he adds.
I can’t help but blush.
‘Although,’ he says, his eyes not leaving my face, ‘I wonder if a date-date might in fact be a possibility at some point? What do you reckon, Lexie?’
‘What?’ I say, in mock astonishment. ‘Are you actually asking me on a real date-date, Davy Laverock?’
‘Well, yes, I think I am. Of course, Bridie and Mairi and everyone else in Aultbea will know exactly what we’re up to and be keeping a close eye on the pair of us. So you’ll have to be home before midnight or your reputation will be mud.’
I laugh. ‘I’ve a feeling my reputation went out the window many years ago. But if you don’t mind risking your own, consorting with the scarlet woman of Ardtuath, then I’d love to.’
‘Okay then. How about tomorrow?’
I nod. ‘Okay then,’ I say, echoing the hint of relief that I detect behind his words. ‘Tomorrow it is. A real date-date.’
Davy picks me up and we go to the best restaurant in town. Of course, it’s also the only restaurant in town, at the hotel. It feels a bit strange not to be going into the bar for a change, and at first we’re both a little self-conscious to be sitting face to face across a table set with linen napkins and glistening wine glasses. The hotel sits right down on the loch shore so at least we have the welcome distraction of the view across the water, where the setting sun has begun to paint the sky in deepening shades of coral pink.
I can’t help worrying about Daisy. It’s the first time I’ve left her since the accident, and although I know she’s fine now and will be enjoying all sorts of fun and games with Bridie at the cottage, my anxiety pinches at my neck and makes my shoulders hunch. I take a breath and sit a little more upright, trying to relax.
‘You look nice,’ Davy says.
‘So do you,’ I reply, settling my napkin in my lap to distract myself from how awkward this exchange sounds.
I look up and he’s smiling at me. ‘You know, I really did enjoy hearing you sing again, on Elspeth’s birthday. Like I was saying on the jetty that day, before Daisy’s accident, if you ever want to do a bit more you’d be welcome. Your new voice suits the old songs.’
‘Thanks. Maybe.’ I don’t admit that it feels an age ago and I think my voice may well have rusted up again.
We pause while the waiter brings us the menu and pours us glasses of water. I gulp mine thankfully.
‘Funny, isn’t it?’ Davy says. ‘Highlanders are generally a people of few words. And yet the traditional songs express the things we’d never normally say. I suppose that’s why they were written originally. To say the things that matter and pass them on from generation to generation.’
I laugh. ‘Well, yes, they’re mostly about love and loss, though. But then I suppose that’s mostly what life is about.’
He shakes his head and sighs theatrically. ‘Ach, Lexie Gordon, so cynical for one so young.’
‘Not that young! I’m certainly old enough to have experienced love and loss. And I bet you that for every cheerful song you can name me, I could name you three laments.’
‘Yeah, well, no one ever said life was supposed to be easy, did they? And it would have been especially hard back in the day when those songs were written. But that’s what binds us together, isn’t it? Shared hardships and the eternal hope for better times ahead. For our children at least, if not for ourselves.’
I consider this for a moment as I pretend to examine the menu. An image of my mum floats before my eyes and in my mind I can hear the songs she used to sing. Her life was pretty tough, all things considered, but he’s right: there was always hope mixed in with the sadness. And being part of the tightly woven crofting community on the shores of Loch Ewe gave her a sense of solidity, of belonging to something that was as unshakeable as the hills and as constant as the tides. The music of this place is as natural to us as the cries of the seabirds and the sound of the wind on the hills – the woodwind and string sections