'It's all right,' Emma assured her. 'Really. You're his sister. It's very natural for a sister to be concerned about her brother. I like Gregor a lot, but we're just friends, as I told you the last time we spoke. Anyway, it's early days yet. Who knows what will happen?'
'Who, indeed? Well, good luck with everything. I'd better be away now. Lots to do. Perhaps I'll see you again while you're here?'
'I hope so, Jennifer.'
'Let me know if Ally is a nuisance again. I'll come and sort him out!'
Emma laughed and waved her good-bye.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Gregor turned up at the guesthouse where Emma was staying later that afternoon, as promised. Neil, the co-owner, tapped on the door of Emma's room to say she had a guest downstairs.
'Thanks Neil! I'll be down in a moment.'
She took a quick look at herself in the mirror, ran a brush over her hair a couple of times practised a smile that she hoped wouldn't look nervous. Right! she thought. I'm as ready as I'll ever be.
Gregor was standing at the window of the residents' lounge, gazing pensively out at the gardens.
'Gregor!'
He spun round and gave her a broad smile as he moved across the room towards her.
'Emma!' he exclaimed, taking her outstretched hand, and then reaching close to kiss her on the cheek. 'I'm so sorry I couldn't meet you. I wanted to very much indeed. I had planned to ....'
'It's all right, Gregor,' she said, giving him a hug and a smile. 'Jennifer explained all that. How are the chicks?'
He laughed and looked embarrassed. 'Infuriating,' he said. 'I'd been monitoring that nest for weeks, and they chose today to emerge. But ... look at you! You look great.'
'It's lovely to see you again, as well,' she said with another smile.
It was going to be all right, she decided. He was pleased to see her. She couldn't ask for anything more. She needn't have feared he would change his mind about seeing her again, and helping her.
'Would you like a cup of tea or coffee?' she asked. 'This is the residents' lounge.'
There are facilities here we can use.'
'Yes. That would be good. Thanks.'
She checked the water level in a kettle on a little table, and switched the kettle on.
'Tea or coffee?' she asked, rummaging through a bowl of sachets and cartons.'Coffee for me.'
She chose tea for herself, and then went through the process of emptying the sachets and tea bags into cups while she waited for the kettle to boil, trying to behave as normally as she possibly could.
'What were they?' she asked over her shoulder.'
'Hm?'
'The chicks.'
'Ah! The chicks. Sea eagles, actually. They're still pretty rare. So I had to stay with them.'
She nodded. 'It wasn't a problem. Jennifer met me, and we had a cup of coffee together.'
'How did you get on with her?' he asked anxiously.
'Fine. I like her. She's very nice, a lovely woman. I had met her before, you know?'
'Really? When was that?'
'The very last day on my previous visit. I was spending time in Kirkwall, while I waited for the ferry. I had a look around the cathedral, and when I came out I bumped into your mother. We recognised each other, and began to chat. Then Jennifer turned up, and we all went for lunch in that shop-cum-cafe across the road. Janet Glue's?'
Gregor nodded. 'I didn't know you'd met the rest of the family.'
'That's everybody is it?' she asked with a smile.
'Just about!'
*
She made the tea and the coffee, and set the cups down on the coffee table. Then she sat down in a chair, next to Gregor.
'It's so good to see you again,' he said. 'It really is. Oops! Have I told you that already?'
She laughed and nodded. 'But it doesn't matter. You can flatter me as much, and as often, as you like.'
They looked at each other and smiled. They were a bit stiff with each other still, but it was going to be all right, Emma thought again. She just knew it was. Somehow.
*
'It's seems very pleasant here,' Gregor said, glancing around the room. 'It's a nice place.'
'It is. And Neil and Jenny, who run it, are lovely people. So friendly and kind.'
After a pause, Gregor said, 'I've been thinking. You could do this with Broch House, if you wanted to, couldn't you?'
'What? Turn it into a guesthouse?'
He nodded.
'That possibility hadn't occurred to me, but you're right, in principle.'
'That's what Ally would do with it, if you sold it to him.'
'Oh?'
'He said so, when I saw him the other day.'
She grinned and said, 'If I did that, it might put a stop to him pestering me!'
Gregor leant forward to pour her another cup of tea. 'It's a bit far from Newcastle, though, I suppose.'
'Isn't it?' she said softly, head on one side, wondering what was coming next.
'You would have to give up your job.'
'That's true. I would have to have a good reason to do that, though, wouldn't I?'
Gregor paused, struggled a moment, and then changed the subject, leaving her very curious indeed about what he had been thinking. Surely he hadn't been ...? No, of course not. What a silly idea. All the same, she had to wonder.
*
'Any progress on Freda since we last spoke?' he asked briskly.
'No. Nothing new to report. How about you?'
'Ah!' It was said as if he had been waiting for this moment. 'HMS Tern. You remember asking me about that ship?'
She nodded. 'Yes. What have you discovered?'
'It's not a ship at all, or it wasn't back in the day.
'Oh?' Emma said with a frown, puzzled.
'It was a Royal Naval Station – but on land. It was a Royal Navy airfield, one of the biggest airbases in Orkney. At its peak it had nearly two thousand personnel, and getting on for a quarter of them were Wrens.'
'Really?' She leant forward, fascinated now. 'Why did they call it HMS – Her Majesty's Ship?'
'His Majesty's Ship!' Gregor said, grinning. 'We had a king in those days, remember? It was just what the navy did. And probably do still. Custom and tradition, I suppose. Everything seems to have been HMS, whether it was on land or water.'
'I see. So where was it, this airbase?'
'Near a village called Twatt, here in Birsay. You can still see it.'
'Oh, that's a pity,' she said thinking of Freda and her photographs. 'So it had nothing to do with Camp 60?'
Gregor shook his head. 'No. Nothing at all. But it is near Broch House.'
'So Freda might have had something to do with it?' she asked hopefully.
'She did, actually. Tomorrow I would like to take you to meet someone who says he knew Freda, back then. Like her, he was stationed at HMS Tern. He's a very interesting old gentleman who my mother told me about. Interested?'
'I certainly am! Where does he live?'
'In Kirkwall. I haven't met him yet myself, but my mother has warned him I might call in to see him.'
'If Freda was stationed there, though,' Emma said thoughtfully, 'how could she have taken photos of Camp 60?'
'I don't know. Let's just see what we find out tomorrow.'
*
Gregor left soon afterwards. He said he had to return to the sea eagles' nest, to see how the chicks were faring.
'Could I come?' Emma asked.
'Another time, perhaps? I don't want to risk frightening them by turning up in numbers. Besides, I'm likely to be there a long time tonight.'
'It's a deal. Well, thank you for all this new information, Gregor. We're making progress at last, aren't we?'
'I think so.'
He stood up and poised rather awkwardly, as if uncertain how to tell her something else on his mind. She smiled and waited patiently.
'Emma, there i
s something about me you should know.'
'What's that?'
'I was married once. My wife was killed in an accident. Eight years' ago.'
She could see how it was a difficult thing for him to talk about, perhaps not surprisingly.
She hastened to say, 'It's all right, Gregor. I understand, and I'm very sorry indeed. Talking about it must be very difficult. Perhaps we should do that another time, not now, when we're both tired after a long day. But thank you for telling me. I really do appreciate it.'
He nodded. 'Until tomorrow, then,' he said stiffly.
'Until tomorrow, Gregor.'
*
Afterwards, she wondered sadly how far that exchange had got them. Not very, she suspected. It seemed as if, just as Jennifer had said, Gregor was frozen in the past, unable to get out of it or speak about it. Not good.
She probably hadn't handled it very well either, she thought, feeling a bit dispirited. She should have done better. It was just that she had been so confused by the way he had spoken to her. For a moment there, when he was talking about Broch House, she had wondered what he was going to say next. How stiff we were with one another! She thought miserably.
Oh, well. What was done was done, and what was said was said. At least he had told her about Maggie. That was something, a shared confidence. In time, perhaps he might tell her more.
Meanwhile, she reminded herself sternly, as she headed back to her room, tomorrow was another day.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
As arranged, Emma drove into Kirkwall the next morning and met Gregor in the Tesco car park, where she was to leave her own car.
'Morning, Gregor! What a lovely day.'
He smiled and held the door of his Land Rover open for her. 'It certainly is. How are you today?'
'Wonderful, I like to think,' she replied with a grin. 'Just like the day.'
'And indeed you are. Look, we're a bit early for visiting Hamish Brown. Why don't we go back to my place for a coffee first? I live just around the corner.'
'Fine,' she said with surprise, but trying hard not to let it show. 'That sounds a good idea.'
'Let's go, then.'
*
Gregor's flat was upstairs in an old building that had seen better days. But the flat itself was tastefully furnished in a homely sort of way and surprisingly tidy. At least, that was true of the living room and kitchen, the parts Emma could see.
'It's very nice,' she said with a nod of approval.
'The best part about it is the view,' Gregor advised.
She walked over to the window, from where she could see both the cathedral and the sea. 'Oh, I see what you mean. It's lovely, isn't it?'
'I like watching the boats coming home to the harbour, especially at night.'
'That sounds very romantic. From my flat in Newcastle, I have a good view of the traffic on the Tyne Bridge, again especially at night, but I would quite like to see fishing boats. I suppose I ought to move to Tynemouth or North Shields.'
'Ever considered Kirkwall? Plenty of flats here.'
She nearly asked if that was an invitation, but decided against it. She didn't want to take the risk. He might not have been amused.
Instead, she said, 'Not really. It's a bit too far for commuting to work.'
He laughed and urged her to sit down. 'Make yourself at home. I'm going to disappear into the kitchen and put the kettle on.'
She sat down. Almost immediately, she stood up again and began to wander, taking in the furnishings, the paintings on the wall and the contents of the bookshelves. It soon seemed to her that most of what she could see had probably not been chosen by a man. Even the books were not likely to have been selected by Gregor. Well, what had she expected?
When Gregor returned with the coffee she sat back down and smiled her thanks for the mug of coffee he handed her.
'It's got a chip in it,' he said apologetically, 'but so have all the others, I'm afraid.'
'What, this little thing? You should see my collection of pottery. A charity shop would turn up it nose! Anyway, I like your flat, Gregor. It's very cosy. How long have you been here?'
'Ten years, or so. Coming up eleven, I think. It suits me well enough.'
'So you lived here with your wife?'
He nodded and smiled. 'It shows, does it – the feminine touch?'
'Just a bit. I didn't think the books on needlework and soft furnishings would have been your choice somehow,' she said with a grin.
'No. You're right. My stuff's in the spare bedroom. This was all set up by Maggie. It's probably time I changed things around a bit.'
*
She changed the subject. 'The gentleman we're going to visit, Gregor, this Mr Brown, have you never met him before?'
'No, I haven't. I only found out about him a day or two ago. I was explaining to my mother what we were trying to do, and she told me about him.'
'He won't mind us visiting him?'
'Mother said he will be thrilled. He doesn't get many visitors. Partly that's because he actually comes from one of the smaller islands, where he spent most of his life. When he could no longer manage on his own he came to Kirkwall.'
'So he won't know many people here?'
'Probably not, no. Mother knows him because she visits old folk like him, people who can't get out much anymore. Mind you, she's old folk herself now!'
'Not a bit of it! She'd a bundle of energy and fun. I enjoyed talking to her.'
'In that case, I'll get you to do it again – and give me some peace!'
*
Hamish Brown lived now in a modern residential home close to the Peedie Sea, a lagoon near the sea front. They were welcomed by the woman who seemed to be in charge, and assured that Mr Brown was very ready to talk to them in the main lounge. An attendant took them along to meet him.
'Some visitors for you, Hamish! More visitors, I should say.' With a wink for the benefit of Gregor and Emma, she added, 'Folk to see him are never away from the door.'
'Ha!' the elderly gentleman they had come to see remarked. 'It's a wonder they bother, Jeannie, when they see they have to get past you to do it.'
'What cheek!' Jeannie said cheerfully. 'Now, can I get you all a cup of tea, or coffee?'
After that had been sorted out, Gregor introduced Emma and himself.
'I believe my mother told you we would like to have a chat with you, Hamish?'
'Yes, that's right. She did. Something about Freda Nicholson, in the old days, wasn't it?'
'It was, yes. Emma, here, is Freda's great-niece. She inherited Freda's house when Freda passed away, but she lives in England and doesn't know much about her. So I'm trying to help her find out a bit more.
'Mother told me you remember Freda when she was young, and we thought we'd like to talk to you about that phase of her life.'
'I see. Yes, I remember Freda well enough. Of course I do! She became a great lady, Freda, in later life. Books, she wrote, you know?' he said, peering at Emma.
'She was on the radio and the television from time to time, as well. Talking about the islands thousands of years ago. She didn't grow up here, though. It was during the war that she first came to Orkney.'
'That's what I would like to know more about, Mr Brown,' Emma said. 'How she came here, and so on. I believe she was a Wren – with the WRNS. Did you know her in those days?'
'Oh, yes. I did. Aye, Freda was a Wren, right enough. I was in the navy myself, but like her I didn't get to sea. We were both landlubbers!'
'Where was that, Mr Brown?'
'A place called Twatt, a navy airfield.'
'HMS Tern?'
'Yes, that's right,' he said with evident surprise. 'Have you heard of it?'
'I have, yes.'
'Well, it was a place where we looked after the navy's aircraft, you know. A big base. We were both fitters. That's what it was like in them days, men and women working together on a lot of jobs.'
A twinkle came into his eye and he added, 'There were hundreds of Wrens there, like Freda. For a young man, it was a grand place to be!'
'Lucky you, Hamish!' Gregor chuckled.
'I certainly was lucky. A boy like me, from a little island like Shapinsay? I'd never seen so many young women in my life!'
Fearing the worst, Emma steered the conversation back to safer ground.
'Did Freda stay at HMS Tern throughout the war, Mr Brown?'
'Yes. I believe she did. Like me. We were all there until the very end. Some were there for quite a while afterwards, as well. People weren't all demobbed at the same time, you know.'
She nodded. 'I understand. I've found some old photographs Freda took at Camp 60, where the Italian PoWs were. But you don't think she was ever stationed there?'
The old chap gave it some thought. Something was puzzling him. Emma waited anxiously.
'Something happened,' he said slowly. 'Camp 60? There was .... Oh, yes! That's it. There was an arrangement, as she called it. Freda would go to the camp sometimes because they needed her there. The commandant and the base commander at Twatt reached an understanding, I believe. Unofficially, mind.'
'Why would they need her?' Emma asked.
'To talk to them. Some of them fellows couldn't talk English.'
'The prisoners, you mean? The Italians?'
Hamish nodded.
'Did Freda speak Italian?'
'She did. Not just Italian either. Clever woman, Freda.'
'She must have been,' Gregor contributed. 'There won't have been many Italian speakers around in those days, not in Orkney. Apart from a few hundred Italians, that is!' he added with a grin at Emma.
'I'm amazed,' she confessed. 'But I remember my grandmother did say that Freda was good at languages.'
'She must have been,' Gregor said again.
'She was,' Hamish confirmed. 'So sometimes she would go to see the Italians. They built a chapel, you know. Just out of Nissan huts. It's still there. The Italian Chapel, they call it to this day.'
'Yes,' Emma said, nodding. 'I have Freda's photographs, and Gregor took me there. It's very interesting. Quite beautiful, as well.'
With a glance at Gregor, she added, 'So we know now that Freda had a connection with Camp 60. There is something else I wanted to ask you, Hamish. Back then, do you know if Freda had a young man, a boyfriend, at Camp 60?'
Orkney Mystery Page 11
