screeched and carried on, squabbling over the bloated carcass of a fish.
She scanned the water in the vain hope that she might spy a passing boat, but water traffic was rare this far out among the islands and the ocean remained resolutely empty. To her left was an old wooden jetty; a figure was sitting at the end of it wearing an old raincoat and holding a fishing rod.
As Rachel walked toward her, Leah turned around, a finger to her lips. “Quiet, or you’ll disturb the fish.”
“Okay,” she whispered back, treading carefully now. “I was wondering if you might be able to tie this in a sling for me,” she said as she reached her, holding out the scarf.
Leah grunted but put the rod down on the jetty and got slowly to her feet. Rachel pulled her hair to one side while Leah folded the scarf into a triangle and wrapped it around her neck, tying the two ends in a firm knot. Up close, Rachel could see the deep grooves on either side of her mouth and the crow’s feet that fanned from her eyes. She’d initially put Leah at about mid to late forties, but exposure to the elements could have made her look older than she was. She was certainly weathered, though that, contrary to Leah’s earlier statement, might have been as much from booze as the passage of time.
“Thanks,” she said when Leah had finished. “That’s a big improvement.”
“No bother.” Leah returned to her fishing.
“Caught anything?” Rachel asked.
“Not yet.” Her back was still turned away.
Not exactly in the mood for a chat again. “Okay, well, I’ll see you later then.”
Another grunt.
Rachel retraced her steps along the jetty and wondered what to do with herself. She wasn’t used to being inactive and unproductive. There was always the book to return to, but she’d had enough of being stuck indoors and the prospect of exploring the island was more appealing, so she turned right when she reached the sand and began to walk along the beach. The sand was fine and white as sugar and littered with seashells. She picked up several particularly fine Trivia arctica—cowrie shells ridged like gnocchi on their undersides—that were hidden amid dark tranches of dried seaweed. The sharp, sour smell of iodine and salt prickled her nose and made her feel at home. A couple of seagulls pecked at the weed, flying off as she approached, complaining in noisy squawks at being disturbed.
When the beach came to an end she scrambled up a rocky bluff, stumbling as she almost lost her balance. By the time she reached the top she was completely out of breath, but the views, across the whole island and out to sea, were astonishing. It was a clear day and she could see the other islands in the group, small treeless hummocks on the horizon separated by a silver-blue ocean. Their presence brought her some comfort and reminded her that she would, in a few days’ time, be back on St. Mary’s, safely at Shearwater Cottage.
She continued, forcing her way through swaths of rusty bracken and brambles that tore at her borrowed trousers, snagging the fine wool. Reaching a low, lichen-covered drystone wall, she saw the ruins of a couple of old cottages, heaping piles of limpet shells nearby. They looked desolate, empty and hollow. At the first one, the door hung on one hinge and she tentatively pushed it open. She nearly jumped out of her skin as something fluttered inside and a large blackbird flew out, just missing her ear. The air was dank and musty. There were two rooms and when she went into the second, which was furnished with an old metal bed frame and a torn and stained mattress, the hair on the back of her neck stood up. All of a sudden she felt as if the wind had been knocked out of her; she couldn’t breathe. She stumbled out of the house, taking deep lungfuls of clean air as she emerged. She wasn’t tempted to enter the second cottage.
Deciding she had done enough exploring for one day, she walked back in the direction of the main house, leaving the bracken behind and passing bright yellow gorse and banks of heather. She eventually found herself on the far side of the orchard and plowed her way through the long grass in between the old apple trees. The temperature here was cooler than out in the open and her skin prickled again, as it