Isla, trying to protect the convoys as they ran the gauntlet of the stormy, ice-strewn wastes of the Barents Sea in the darkness. The men on board never knew when the next attack might come from above or below, while they battled through gale-whipped waves that turned the decks of the ships into lopsided, top-heavy ice palaces, threatening to capsize even the heaviest vessels. They might have had anti-aircraft guns and depth charges to defend themselves against the U-boats and the Heinkel bombers, but all they had to fight back against the smothering blanket of ice were pickaxes and shovels. Somehow, though, many of the ships got through, delivering their precious cargoes of fighter planes and tanks, trucks and weapons, as well as supplies of food, ammunition and fuel oil.
At the end of the winter, the convoys had been suspended again through the summer months and Alec had been sent back out on patrol on the stretch of sea between the Northern Isles. Time and time again, Flora waited and watched as she drove her ambulance along the loch, scanning the horizon for new arrivals and searching among the flotilla of vessels at anchor in the bay for his ship.
And then, at last, her patience was rewarded. He’d been given a few days of leave, days she hoped they’d spend beachcombing along the shore and fishing in the lily-covered lochan. But his father found jobs for him to do on the estate, and she suspected Sir Charles was deliberately keeping Alec away from Keeper’s Cottage.
On a warm summer’s evening Flora wandered up to the stable block, having volunteered to see to the garron. As she approached, she heard the rhythmic thud of an axe on wood. Behind the stables, she found Alec. She smiled at first, watching the muscles of his back move beneath his shirt with each swing of the axe and each blow. He must have been at work for hours, she realised, noticing the split logs strewn chaotically around him, left unstacked. Then she saw how his shirt clung to his back, soaked by sweat.
‘Alec,’ she said softly. But he was lost in the motion of the axe, swinging it high and pounding it down on another log. The force of the movement sliced through the chunk of wood, rending it in two. She said his name again, more loudly this time. He spun around, the axe held high, and for one terrible second she thought he was about to bring it down on her head, splitting her skull as easily as he’d split the logs around his feet.
That second seemed to draw itself out as the pair of them stood, frozen, in a grotesque tableau of fury and fear. And then she saw his face. It was darkened with the same rage she’d witnessed in him before, his features contorting into those of his father. With a gasp, she caught sight of the axe handle. It was red with his blood. Consumed by his fury, he’d flayed the skin from his hands until they’d become contorted, scarlet claws.
In that moment, she hardly recognised him. He seemed completely lost in the darkness of his anger. Instinctively, Flora shrank back against the stable wall and held her breath until he slowly lowered the axe and relinquished his grip, letting it fall to the ground beside him. She swallowed her fear and went to him as his body was wracked by sobs and he gasped over and over again, ‘I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!’
She held him until he was a little calmer, then led him to the cottage in silence, where she washed and bandaged his hands. ‘You need to rest,’ she told him. ‘You’re supposed to be on leave.’
He shook his head. ‘I can’t rest. I can’t sleep,’ he said. ‘Every time I close my eyes, I see the waves rolling towards me, coming for me. I feel as if I’m drowning, Flora. It’s better to keep busy, so that I don’t have to think. So that I don’t have time to remember the faces of the men we’ve lost.’
She held his hands wrapped in their padding of white bandages between her own, as if trying to physically prevent him from sinking into the desperation and anger that reminded her so much of Sir Charles. But she was frightened. Every time Alec sailed, she feared she might lose him. And sometimes she had the sense that he was lost to her already.