Читать книгу Northern Sunset - Пенни Джордан, Penny Jordan - Страница 6

IT was a four-hour journey to Falla, but Catriona, wearing workmanlike oilskins over her jumper and jeans, worked efficiently, nursing the old fishing yaol across the windswept winter sea. The open cockpit offered scant protection from the elements, but Catriona was barely aware of the fierce wind teasing tendrils of hair which had escaped from her plait, as she concentrated on manoeuvring the unwieldy craft through the dangerous cross-currents. There was something about this battle with the wind and sea that exhilarated, setting her free from all worries and cares.

At last the sheer red sandstone cliffs of Falla came in sight and Catriona started to edge the boat into the smaller of the two deep voes which formed Falla’s natural harbour. The large voe was a true glacial fiord, Magnus had once told her, and its smooth red walls stretched endlessly down into the deep sea-water inlet.

A clutch of houses huddled together by the harbour as though seeking protection from the wind, and as Catriona moved to secure the boat the door to one opened and gnarled fisherman came out, smiling warmly as he hurried to help.

“Thanks, Findlay,” Catriona gasped, as he took the rope and stretched out a hand to help her ashore. She leapt nimbly from the deck, surefooted among the muddle of lobster pots and coiled ropes which littered the harbour.

“I’ll help you get this stuff into the Land Rover,” he offered, swinging up one of the large boxes with effortless ease.

He was the same age as their father would have been had he lived, and had taught both Peterson children to sail and fish, and Catriona felt about him as she did all the crofters; they were part of her family.

It didn’t take long to get the provisions loaded into the ancient Land Rover. The village was quiet, the men out fishing, and refusing a cup of tea, Catriona climbed into the Land Rover and switched on the engine.

The unmade road climbed out of the village and across the peat moors; carpeted with wild flowers in summer, but now in winter, grim and bleak with no tree or bush to break the windswept turf. Here and there were neat bare patches where the villagers had removed peat to heat their fires. There was no coal or wood on the islands and although these luxuries had been imported lavishly during Catriona’s parents’ time, now the fires of the Great House were heated by the same means as those in the crofts.

The road ran past the highest part of the island, the crumbling remains of a single tower all that was left of the once proud castle built during the turbulent times of the wicked Earl Patrick, who had once ruled these islands with cruelty and cunning.

The Great House was built in sandstone, overlooking a small loch, its gardens protected from the fierce wind by the sheltering hill which rose behind it. Falla had good pastures and during the summer the cows and sheep grew fat and contented. The once beautiful heather garden looked neglected and bedraggled as Catriona drove slowly through the huge wrought iron gates imported from England by the eighteenth-century Peterson who had commissioned this elegant Georgian building.

The library, which faced out on to the drive, was the room Catriona and Magnus used most. The once elegant and gracious drawing rooms were now closed off, gathering dust and falling into disrepair. At first on her return Catriona had been shocked and distressed by this, but gradually this had faded under the burden of struggling to keep even one room reasonably warm, look after her brother, manage their finances and feed them.

Magnus was standing by the window watching for her—a good sign, and she pulled up hurriedly, lifting one of the smaller boxes from the Land Rover.

Magnus opened the door for her, Russet, his red setter, jumping up enthusiastically to welcome Catriona home.

As she kissed his cheek Catriona could not help comparing her brother’s gaunt features with those of the man who had invaded her bedroom.

Magnus was twenty-nine and his bulky sweater hung loosely on what had once been a well-built frame. His hair was as fair as Catriona’s, his eyes a deep blue, but where laughter had once lurked in their depths there was now only pain. He never discussed the accident with her, because he wanted to protect her, she acknowledged, but when would he realise that she was no longer a little girl to be sheltered from life’s blows?

He followed her down the stone-flagged hall to the kitchen, and Catriona dumped her box on the large wooden table, heaving a sigh of relief.

“Get everything you wanted?” Magnus enquired, investigating the contents curiously.

“Everything I could afford,” Catriona told him wryly. “Lerwick has become fantastically expensive—another legacy from the oil rigs, I suppose.”

She had her back to Magnus and didn’t see his faint frown at her acerbic tone. He pushed the box away and came to stand beside her, his arm around her shoulders.

“Aren’t you finding it a bit heavy?” he asked her gently.

Nonplussed, Catriona stared at him. This was her usual day for baking and breadmaking and she wanted to check the old-fashioned kitchen range before she started.

“That chip you’re carrying,” Magnus explained. “Look, Cat, I appreciate your concern and loyalty, but what happened to me was an accident, pure and simple—there’s no point in blaming oil for it, nor on feeling this silly hatred of everything connected with it.”

Catriona’s fingers curled into her palms. She found it impossible to understand how Magnus could so calmly accept what had happened.

“Leave all that,” he said suddenly. “Come into the library, there’s something I want to show you.”

Mystified, Catriona allowed him to propel her out into the chilly hall and into the library.

A peat fire burned brightly in the immense hearth and Catriona sank gratefully into a leather chair, her hands outstretched to the flames.

“You do too much,” Magnus told her gently. “You shouldn’t have given up your training, Cat. You can’t spend the rest of your life on Falla with me.”

“I don’t see why not,” she argued stubbornly. “After all, it is half my island, so you can’t order me to leave, can you?”

“Perhaps not, but it’s no life for a young girl.” He caught hold of her hands, studying the broken nails and calloused skin, a look of burning anger in his eyes.

“God, Cat, I’ve been so selfish, but all that’s going to change.”

Catriona stared at him, a joyful smile trembling on her lips. “Magnus… You can’t mean you’re going back to work?”

He frowned.

“No, I can’t do that. Oh, I could do the routine work all right; but sooner or later I would find myself in a situation that I’m not capable of handling now. Sooner or later someone’s life is going to be at risk, and I’m not going to be able to cope. That’s what being a geologist is all about.”

“Strange,” Catriona murmured dryly, not wanting him to see her disappointment. “I thought it was about looking for minerals.”

“Often in remote and dangerous parts of the world,” Magnus insisted. “In situations where you’ve got to be able to rely on the other members of your team, and what sane man could trust his life to me now….”

His bitterness made her want to cry.

“Oh, Magnus, you don’t know that….”

“Oh yes, I do,” he said with bitter finality. “Don’t you think I’ve not been over and over it all these last few months? It’s over, Cat. As a geologist I’m finished, but that doesn’t mean the end of everything. I got this yesterday, it came after you’d left.” He handed her an envelope.

The mailboat called once a week, and Catriona stared at the impressively typed letter. It was addressed to the owners of Falla Island, and her colour faded, as she read and re-read it, her lips pursed together in an angry line.

“Magnus, we can’t possibly agree to this!” she protested as she put it down. “An oil terminal on Falla? They must be mad!”

“Not necessarily,” Magnus contradicted. There was a briskness in his voice which made Catriona glance curiously at him. On his return from hospital and during the long months which had followed he had seemed to share her bitter hatred of all things oil completely, but now she was forced to admit that she must have misjudged his sentiments.

“Come and look at this,” he commanded, opening his desk and getting out a map of the island. It was one he himself had drawn while he was at university, and although only a week ago seeing him take such an interest in things would have filled her with joy, now Catriona felt only apprehension as she watched him unroll the map and study it deeply before calling her over.

“Here’s Falla Voe, and next to it the harbour. You remember how I once told you how these voes were formed during the Ice Age and how unimaginably deep they are?” When Catriona nodded he continued enthusiastically, “You’ve seen how successful the oil terminal at Sullom Voe is—well, what the construction company are planning is a much smaller but similar operation here, to be used as a back-up system.”

“But it would ruin Falla,” Catriona protested, hardly able to believe her ears. Surely Magnus couldn’t be in favour of it?

“Come with me.”

Taking her hand, he led her from the library and back out into the hall, throwing open the huge double doors to the drawing room. The plaster ceiling was tinged with mould, the furniture covered in dusty sheets, the whole room permeated with an unpleasant damp odour. Silently Catriona stared at her brother, wondering why he had brought her here.

“Don’t you see?” he said gently. “With the money we would get for allowing them to build the terminal this house could be restored to what it once was. We could buy a new generator instead of having to rely on one that runs on a hope and prayer. You could go back to London.” He placed his hands on her shoulders and studied her intently. “I know how you feel about the oil industry, Cat, but you mustn’t let it ruin your life—and not just yours,” he added inexorably, drawing her to the window. “Think of our people and how much this could mean to them. They’re barely scratching a living here; as soon as the children are old enough they’re leaving. Do you honestly want Falla to become just another deserted island, empty of people?”

“And do you honestly want to sell your birthright for… for an oil terminal on your doorstep?” Catriona protested. “It would ruin Falla, Magnus….” She could hardly believe that he was actually serious. They were poor, yes, but they could manage. But could they? She remembered uneasily how quickly her slender store of money had disappeared in Lerwick; already they were dependent on the crofters for milk and vegetables from their gardens; Catriona had returned to Falla too late to make use of its brief summer, and those same crofters who generously shared their produce with them were, as Magnus had reminded her, poor themselves. Was she being selfish in wanting to keep Falla as it had always been? A fierce wave of hatred seized her. Wherever she turned it all came back to the same thing: oil. If it hadn’t been for oil Magnus would be whole and well and there would be no need to even contemplate this… this rape of their home.

“So you’re in favour?”

Her eyes begged him to deny it, and for a moment Magnus’s face softened.

“I think we should at least let them do some explorative work, for the sake of the islanders if nothing else. Don’t you see, Cat,” he said softly, “we don’t have the right to deny them this opportunity, and if they do go ahead it won’t soil Falla; the Government are pretty stiff about these things. Anyway, that’s a long way off, these geologists they want to send out might not find the voe suitable.”

“Geologists?” Catriona said eagerly. “Oh, Magnus, why don’t you offer to do the work? I’m sure….”

“No!”

The harsh word cut across her excitement, dashing all her newly sprung hopes.

“I might know in my heart that this terminal is right for Falla, but don’t expect me to take any professional interest in it. I’ve told you, Cat, I don’t have what it takes any more. Investigating that voe means that someone will have to dive into those waters, examine those undersea cliffs,” he told her brutally, “relying only on a back-up team on land. Do you think anyone would trust me to be a member of that team after what happened in the Gulf?”

The anguish in his voice made her blench.

“But, Magnus, nothing did happen. You were knocked out and left for dead….”

“And when I came round I was alive and all around me my colleagues, my friends were dying in agony, and I didn’t do a thing to help.”

“You couldn’t do anything to help,” Catriona protested, not sure whether to be glad or sorry that he was at last discussing with her the story she had only so far heard from Mac. “You were paralysed.”

“With fear,” Magnus said with deep loathing. “Paralysed with fear, while all around me men were on fire.”

“You weren’t paralysed with fear,” Catriona protested. “Mac explained it all to me, Magnus, the blow you received did that….”

“Oh, for God’s sake stop trying to make it easier for me!” Magnus demanded harshly. “God, I wish I had died there. You can’t know the hell life has been ever since.” He dropped into a chair, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

“Look at me, Cat,” he commanded bitterly. “I’m not even a man any longer….” His eyes were bleak and hopeless, arousing all her protective instincts. How could he call himself a coward when he was brave enough to endure the sight of men who he claimed would only have contempt for him, on this island which was his retreat, and for the benefit of others?

CATRIONA was just lifting the bread tins out of the oven when she heard the helicopter overhead. Ten minutes later there was a knock on the back door, and she went to open it, shooing away the free-range chickens who kept them supplied with eggs, a genuinely pleased smile curving her lips.

“Mac!” she exclaimed, greeting their visitor. “We weren’t expecting you today.”

She stood aside to allow the grizzled Scotsman to enter the room, grinning as he sniffed the warm bread-scented atmosphere appreciatively.

“I had to go out to one of the rigs, and I got them to drop me off here instead of Lerwick.”

“Magnus will be pleased to see you.” Catriona picked up one of the tins and expertly knocked on the bottom to remove the loaf, cutting a generous crust and spreading it with butter.

“It will give you indigestion,” she warned as Mac took it from her, busying herself with the old-fashioned kettle she had got into the habit of using on the range rather than rely on the eccentric habits of their generator.

“Worth it, though. Something wrong?” he queried when Catriona gave him a rather preoccupied smile. “Magnus isn’t worse, is he?”

“He’s gone out for a walk.” Catriona worried about these solitary walks of her brother’s, with only his dog for company. “Mac, we had a letter this morning. They want to build a back-up terminal on Falla.”

“And you’re against the idea?”

She nodded.

“What does Magnus say?”

She told him, adding that she was surprised that he hadn’t vetoed it from the very start, but mentioning how he had changed when she had suggested that he might do the survey.

“Umm. It could be a good sign. It proves that he hasn’t withdrawn totally from the outside world. As a matter of fact, having men here from his old life might be the best thing that could happen to him. Seeing them might help him get over the mental block he’s created inside himself and drive him out of himself.”

“And if it doesn’t? If it makes him withdraw even further? Oh, Mac, I’m so frightened for him! I’m sure he’s only considering this terminal because he thinks it will be best for the rest of us. If you could have seen him this afternoon when he was talking about the accident….”

“But don’t you see?” Mac demanded, suddenly excited. “He did talk about it. Who knows, this desire to allow them on to Falla might be a deeply hidden longing to return to his old life.”

“Then you think I should agree?”

He got up and came over to her, his eyes kind and understanding. “Not just agree, Cat, but actively encourage him. Can you do that?”

She had to turn away so that he wouldn’t see the despair in her eyes.

“I don’t know,” she admitted. “You know how I feel about the industry.”

“Aye, you’re a bonny hater,” Mac agreed with a smile which robbed the words of criticism. “But Magnus is right, you owe it to your people to at least let them make explorations.”

Catriona knew when she was defeated. Much as she hated the idea it looked as though she was going to have to give in, but that didn’t mean that she had stopped fighting. One sign that Falla was going to be despoiled, one hint that these intruders were adversely affecting Magnus and they would be gone.

“You can’t go on living like this, Cat,” Mac added gently. “It wasn’t what your parents would have wanted for you. How long is it since you last went out to a dance, or enjoyed yourself at all, come to that?” He tweaked her long braid, and although Catriona had been about to protest that she didn’t mind, that she didn’t miss the fun and glamour of London, she was suddenly conscious of the picture she must present in her heavy sweater and shabby jeans, and grimaced slightly.

Having persuaded Mac to stay and eat with them, and assured him that Findlay would take him back to Lerwick, she collected cutlery from a drawer and started to place it on the table. She and Magnus always ate in the kitchen; for one thing it was always warm, and that had become an important consideration in their lives.

The meal she had planned was only simple: omelettes made from the eggs she had gathered that afternoon, homemade bread, and some scones she had just placed in the oven. Magnus walked in as she was beating the eggs. His walk had brought the colour to a face which had grown unnaturally pale, and Catriona was pleased to see that he greeted their visitor with enthusiasm. As she had hoped he would, Mac introduced the subject of the proposed oil terminal, and as Catriona moved deftly about the old-fashioned kitchen the two men discussed the possible outcome if the geologists’ report was favourable.

Both men praised her cooking, but Catriona couldn’t help noticing that Magnus merely toyed with his food, pushing the omelette around his plate. Mac, who had been a widower for very many years, cleaned his plate appreciatively.

“Are you going to give the go-ahead, then?” he asked Magnus as Catriona poured their tea.

“I don’t see that we have much option, and at least at this stage they’re only investigating.”

“Well, if you write the letter, I’ll post it for you in Lerwick,” Mac offered, ignoring Catriona’s faint frown. “No point in letting the grass grow under your feet if you’ve made up your minds, is there now?” he commented when Magnus hesitated.

“You think they’d leave it over until spring now,” Catriona commented. “The daylight is so short at this time of the year, always supposing the weather is good enough to allow them to get here each day.”

Mac frowned.

“But surely they’ll be staying here on Falla?”

Catriona splashed hot tea on the table and mopped it up with hands that shook. This was something she had never thought of, but she as from Magnus’s face that he had.

“Come on Catriona,” Mac coaxed. “You can’t honestly expect them to travel here each day? Where’s your common sense?”

“They’ll have to won’t they?” she said curtly. “Unless some of the islanders put them up.”

She cleared away their plates while the men drank their tea, and then offered to drive Mac down to the harbour when he insisted that he ought to leave. Magnus was listening to the radio and shook his head when Catriona invited him to go with them.

“He’s like a hermit,” she complained as Mac helped her into the Land Rover. “I tried to persuade him to go to Lerwick with me, but he wouldn’t.”

But he had written a letter agreeing to allow the geologists to examine the voe, and it was now in Mac’s shabby raincoat pocket. There were no lights to guide her along the narrow unmade road, but Catriona did not need them.

“Well, if Mohammed won’t go to the mountain, have you thought about bringing the mountain to him?” Mac questioned, making her eye him queryingly. “You said Magnus was like a hermit,” he explained patiently. “And it isn’t good for him to shut himself away like this, Cat. He’s a healthy male of twenty-nine and he needs other human company. If he won’t seek out that company then you’ll have to bring it to him.”

“By doing what?” Catriona asked sarcastically. “Capturing it wholesale?”

“No need to go to such extremes,” Mac chuckled, ignoring her angry stare. “Not when you’ve got a ready-made solution right on your doorstep. Think, Cat,” he urged when she stared at him. “Those geologists are going to need a case, somewhere to sleep and eat, and you’ve got all those empty bedrooms….”

The Land Rover swerved abruptly and came to a halt.

“No way,” Catriona announced determinedly.

Very gently Mac removed her hands from the steering wheel and held them in his own.

“Now it isn’t very often that I talk to you like a Dutch uncle, but on this occasion I’m going to have to. What happened to Magnus was tragic, but it was an accident, Cat, no more and no less.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” Catriona protested. “United Oil knew how explosive the situation was; they could have ordered their people to leave while it was still safe, instead of which they kept them there, knowing they were in danger.”

“You’re not being rational,” Mac protested. “The Middle East has always been explosive, and companies are responsible to shareholders, you know, they can’t do just as they please. Magnus himself has no animosity. It’s getting out of all proportion, Cat. I know you’re bitter, and I can understand why. Don’t you think it doesn’t break me up inside too when I see Magnus and remember how he was? But assisting him to hide from the world isn’t going to help him in the long run. He’s ready to start on the road to recovery, I’m sure of it. Okay, he might never be able to go back to his old job, but the mere fact that he hasn’t refused to have these men on Falla must tell you something.”

“It tells me that he puts everyone else before himself,” Catriona protested stubbornly, tears suddenly filming her eyes as she laid her head on Mac’s shoulder.

“Oh, Mac, when he said they could come, I was so surprised, so full of hope, but the moment I mentioned the geologists he retreated again. He couldn’t stand having them in the house—I just know it!”

“And I think you’re underestimating him, Cat. It won’t do any harm to give it a try, and it could do a hell of a lot of good. Just listening to them talk might help break through the barriers.”

“He’ll never agree to it.”

“Then don’t tell him,” Mac retorted with a promptness that told Catriona that he had been prepared for her question. “Simply present him with a fait accompli. I wouldn’t advise it, if I didn’t think it was in his best interests, Cat,” he told her soberly, and Catriona knew that he meant it. He wasn’t just their doctor, he was also a close and caring friend, and yet having these people in the house wasn’t just totally opposed to her own personal views, it was also tantamount to stabbing her brother in the back with a very sharp knife.

“Fiona’s coming to stay with me over Christmas,” Mac added casually. “She’s a wee bit hurt that Magnus continues to ignore her letters.”

Fiona MacDonald was Mac’s niece, a nurse in a large Edinburgh hospital with a sensible outlook on life, and Catriona liked her. During their teens Fiona and Magnus had been very close and had kept in contact right up until the time of Magnus’s accident, since when he had refused point-blank to write to her. “I don’t want her pity,” was all he had said in response to Catriona’s query. “Let her keep that for her patients.”

Now a sudden thought struck her.

“Mac, were Fiona and Magnus ever romantically involved?” she asked curiously.

Mac shook his head.

“I don’t know, my dear, but if they were don’t you think that’s their business? The trouble with those two is that they’re both givers, and givers seldom have the ability to take what they want from life.”

Unlike her nocturnal room-mate, Catriona thought suddenly, dismayed that she should have thought of him. But having done so, she could not deny that he was most definitely not a “giver”. No, he was quite plainly a man who took what he wanted from life.

When she had seen Mac safely on board the yaol, she turned back to the Land Rover, but instead of driving straight home she stopped by the ancient keep of the old castle and climbed out. The tower had been a favourite haunt of her childhood. The weathered walls were still high enough to offer some shelter from the wind and often she had lain within their protective shelter, peering out to sea through the wind-tossed flowers. It was here that she had come when they brought the news about her parents and here that Magnus had found her, comforting her without a word being spoken.

Was Mac wrong when he claimed that the geologists’ presence in their home might break through Magnus’s prison walls? She knew she could not afford to take the chance that he might be, and with a heart heavy with bitter resentment she walked back to the Land Rover.

She might be forced to welcome these intruders for her brother’s sake, but for herself she would continue to hate them. Not one of the men with whom Magnus had worked had made any attempt to get in touch with him since his accident; no one from United Oil had taken the trouble to come out to Falla and see him, and although Catriona would never have admitted it to her brother she was desperately afraid that when he claimed that his old companions would despise and denigrate him now, he was speaking the truth. Oilmen were hard men, without emotion or compassion, and now they were going to invade their sanctuary and spread God alone knew what havoc among them.

A FORTNIGHT WENT BY without any response to Magnus’s letter, and then a severe storm prevented the mail boat from calling, and Catriona had almost begun to think that the whole thing had blown over.

With gales blowing Mac had been unable to call, although he had spoken to them by telephone. Since her return to the island Catriona had never ceased to be grateful to her parents for installing this luxury.

“Any news about the terminal?” he enquired when he had assured himself that they were both well.

“Don’t remind me of it,” Catriona begged. “I keep hoping it will all go away.”

Mac laughed. Catriona was covered in cobwebs. She had been cleaning out the bedrooms, unearthing linen sheets from cupboards mercifully free of damp and moth. The house had been furnished long before the days of such things as central heating, when women knew how to store and cherish good linen.

Although there had been no further word from the oil company about the terminal, Catriona did not intend to be caught off guard if they did decide to go ahead.