by Anna Larner
Eve said, shaking her head, “I’m sure she didn’t—”
“It gets worse. Despite that fact I nonetheless mustn’t give up hope of finding someone prepared to love me.” Esther pulled the door of Loch View firmly closed behind them.
Eve couldn’t bring herself to look across at Moira’s croft.
“Prepared to love me, for God’s sake.” Esther’s voice strained with anger. “What does that flipping mean? What part of love requires preparation?”
Esther’s fury had them striding out onto the main road. Eve watched Esther’s face tighten as she visibly forced down her heartache into the ground with each step.
Esther briefly stopped walking and looked at Eve. “You know what the stupid thing is? I don’t think I know what love is any more. I thought I knew.”
Eve gave a sympathetic half-smile in response.
Esther continued with a sigh, “Maybe it does need preparation. Maybe I need to sit in a dark room chanting, opening up my chakra. What do you reckon?”
“I’m pretty sure I don’t have a chakra,” Eve said, her voice deadpan.
“No. I mean about the love thing.”
Eve shrugged, shoving her hands into her pockets.
“Have you ever been in love, Eve?”
“I dunno,” Eve said flatly, averting her eyes from Esther’s questioning gaze.
Esther tucked her arm into Eve’s. “Well that makes two of us.”
Eve looked ahead, along the main road which was less of a main road and more of a grassy, gravelly track, snaking through the pastoral idyll of roadside crofts and cottages.
“Oh, Eve, this is a pretty cottage, look at the climbing roses above the door.” No sooner had the word door left Esther’s lips than she bent double, her face screwed up in agony, and her eyes desperate with alarm.
Eve gasped. “You okay? What is it? Do you need the loo? Is that it?”
Esther held the side of the cottage wall. She had begun to perspire.
“Oh dear, lassie.” A soft, lyrical voice floated over the wall from the garden. “Can I help at all?”
“My sister’s got an upset stomach,” Eve explained to the kind stranger offering help.
The woman looked at Esther and repeated, “Oh dear,” adding in a louder voice, “Angus, we have a young lady who needs our assistance.”
“Hello again, Eve.” Angus McAlister grinned broadly. “Come in, come in both. This is my wife, Elizabeth.”
“The toilet’s to the left, just by the stairs.” Elizabeth shook her head in sympathy.
“Oh my God, I can’t use their loo,” Esther whispered into Eve’s ear.
Eve shook her head. “I don’t think you have a choice.”
“Do we have some ginger, Angus? I’m thinking a warming ginger tea, yes?”
Angus nodded at her suggestion, and tucked an empty pipe in the corner of his mouth. He gestured for Eve to take a seat at their dining table.
“Thank you for your help,” Eve said, blushing at Angus’s smiling expression in reply.
*
Elizabeth filled teacups from a porcelain teapot decorated with blue and white flowers. The ivory white of the pot matched the hands that poured the tea.
“Eve?” Esther dug her sister in the ribs.
Eve’s attention was drawn to the photos on the sideboard. “What?” She looked back to the table to find Elizabeth waiting with silver sugar tongs poised over a porcelain cup.
“Oh, no sugar, thank you,” Eve said, returning her focus to the photos.
“She’s eighteen there, Moira from the centre,” Angus said. “Just about to go to college.”
From within the brass frame, Moira smiled back at Eve. She was dressed in a red sweatshirt and blue jeans. Her soft freckles on the top of her cheeks and curly brown hair shone in the sun. The Newland hills were in the background. Moira looked happy and alive. She looks beautiful.
Angus picked up another photo of Moira chopping fallen trees with a chainsaw and handed it to Eve. “She was born to croft, to work the land. It’s in her blood.”
“Right,” Eve said, with eyebrows raised. “They’re big logs.”
“Aye, we care for a variety of terrain. Our woodland is our particular joy.”
Eve looked closely at Moira. Moira was older in the picture. She wasn’t looking at the camera; her head was turned away towards the hills. She looked pensive, perhaps even sad. Eve looked towards Angus, who nodded back, as if absorbed in his thoughts, sucking on his empty pipe.
“Really, Angus, I’m sure Eve’s not interested in our family photos.” Elizabeth’s cup softly knocked against its saucer as she placed it gently down.
“No, no. I mean…” Eve’s cheeks tingled. She pushed her chair out from under her, the chair scraping along the tiled floor, and with care replaced the photo on the sideboard. “So is Moira your daughter?” Eve asked, her gaze lingering for a moment on Moira’s photo.
Looking back at the McAlisters, Eve caught Esther’s eye. Esther mouthed, Stop being nosy.
“In every way that matters,” Elizabeth said, with a heart-breaking tenderness to her tone.
It struck Eve that this was an odd answer. She didn’t like to ask what she had meant. Instead, she watched Elizabeth look at Angus and smile. It was a smile that seemed to drift from their lips to settle on shared recollections of times gone by.
Before returning to her seat, Eve cast her eye over the variety of other photos on the sideboard, filling the McAlisters’ dining room with people, places, and precious moments in time. Angus and Elizabeth’s wedding day. Angus stood tall, with Elizabeth’s arm tucked in his. His tartan waistcoat and kilt declared his dedication to his country. His face, turned towards Elizabeth’s, wore a soft, tender expression. Elizabeth’s dress was delicate and demure. White lace sleeves ended at her wrists; intricate lacing ruffled at her neck.
Various picturesque Newland scenes adorned the polished sideboard. The McAlisters’ cottage featured in many of the photos, taken at different times of the year. The garden appeared full of spring colour and then, in another shot, almost invisible against the white winter snow. Eve held one photo up to Angus. It showed a large group of people with spades and smiles. Eve recognized the landscape in the background as Newland’s hilltop.
“We’d just got permission to set up a trust, to buy our own land,” Angus confirmed with a proud nod.
“You’re all looking very pleased,” Esther said.
“Aye, aye. It just goes to show what a group can do as one mind, stronger together. We have so much to be proud of. And our work now extends out of Newland. We are becoming known for our pioneering outreach programme.” Angus and Elizabeth shared a smile.
Putting back the village photo, Eve disturbed an unframed snap. A little dog-eared with a crease across it, and yellowing slightly at its edges, the snap was of a young woman in her twenties. She was shielding her eyes from the sun. There was a city scene in the background. Inverness? One strap of the young woman’s blue dungarees had come undone. It didn’t look like she cared.
“Iris Campbell.” Elizabeth wistfully spoke into the room, almost as if her thoughts had formed themselves into words in the air.
Eve half whispered, “She’s very pretty.”
“Yes, she was very beguiling.” Elizabeth’s voice seemed to falter slightly. “A very good musician, mind.”
Eve nodded. “Right.”
Eve rested the unframed snap back to where it belonged against a framed picture of a smaller group, which included Moira and also a man with a full beard and mousey shoulder-length hair. Between them stood a young girl, curiously holding a large leek. The girl leant her head against Moira’s side.
“The Campbells.” Angus gestured his pipe towards the photo.
“Okay,” Eve said, squinting with a frown. “Is the girl by any chance Alice, from the centre?”
“Yes, Alice, she’d have been…” Angus blew out his cheeks and scratched under his hat. “Well, let me think, she’s
twenty now…”
“Nine,” Elizabeth said, tilting her head, “maybe ten.”
“Well, I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” Esther said, gingerly getting to her feet. “We mustn’t intrude on you any longer, must we? Eve?”
“Hmm?” Eve looked up and blinked. “Oh, no. Thank you.” Eve smiled at Elizabeth, who smiled warmly back.
Accompanying them to the front door, Angus asked, “Are you staying long in Newland?”
“Yes,” Esther replied. “We’re staying a fortnight, aren’t we, Eve?”
Eve nodded, “Absolutely.”
“Wonderful.” Angus smiled broadly. “Wonderful. And will we see you at the village dance, I wonder, this Saturday coming?”
“Village dance?” Eve’s chest tightened. “I’m sorry, did you say dance?”
Chapter Seven
“Why did you say yes to him, Esther? You know I can’t dance.” Eve held her hands in front of her face at the certain humiliation awaiting her.
At that moment everything felt too much for Eve. She was certain that she’d made a complete fool of herself over their neighbour. She felt sure her best friend thought she had lost the plot. And now, to top it all, she was expected to set aside her well-judged inhibitions to expose herself to the ridicule of complete strangers. And what was worse, her family seemed to think that that was okay.
“How could we say no?” Esther shrugged. “He looked so hopeful and they’d been so kind. In any case, it says they will show us how.” Esther was rereading the leaflet Angus had given them.
“And that will improve my dancing in what way?”
Lillian entered the kitchen, apparently drawn by Eve’s anguish like a moth to the flame. “I know dancing isn’t your thing, Eve. I quite frankly have no intention of tripping the light fantastic.” Lillian laughed at her own words, followed by the applause of her holiday flip-flops clapping against her heels as she crossed the room. “I can’t make any promises for your father.”
Eve caught a glimpse of Henry as he rehearsed in front of the hall mirror. He had his hands on his hips, working out which leg should be his lead leg for the fling part of the Highland fling.
“Ow.” Eve gave Esther a look. What the fuck?
“Hold still then,” Esther mumbled at Eve through a mouthful of hair grips.
Eve raised her eyebrows. “And the hat needs to be gripped to my skull, why?”
“You don’t want to be worrying about your hat falling off do you?”
Eve wanted to say, I’m worried about the hat staying on.
“There, perfect.” Esther stood back to admire her work.
Lillian and Esther had spent the morning cutting, sewing, and draping the fabric they had purchased the day before in Inverness. They had chosen to dress neutrally, in simple skirts and floaty blouses, finished off with a flourish of tartan sash draped delicately over their shoulder, and tied at the hip.
Since Eve refused to wear a skirt, her outfit had proven somewhat of a sartorial challenge.
Eve looked in the reflective cooker splashback.
“I’m sorry?” Eve glared at Esther, then at Lillian, and back at Esther.
“I’ve taken my inspiration from that Scottish seventies band—oh, now, what was their name again?” Esther looked to her mother.
“The Bay City Rollers.” Lillian adjusted Eve’s tartan beret as she spoke.
“Who?” Eve’s voice strained with alarm.
“They were very popular, Eve. Your sister’s been very creative.”
To achieve Eve’s outfit, Esther had fashioned tartan fabric into a floppy beret shape and hemmed the same material to artfully border Eve’s trouser bottoms, collar, and cuffs.
“So, let’s go. Henry,” Lillian called out, summoning him from the bathroom.
Henry called through the door, “I’ll follow on. You go ahead.”
*
Eve was taken aback by how beautifully the village hall had been decorated for the dance. Bunting adorned the outside of the building, fluttering in bursts like the sound of birds flocking, taking to the evening sky above the heads of the revellers. Inside the hall, visible through the open door, large swathes of Highland tartan material billowed from the roof space.
“Gosh, that’s really something, isn’t it girls? We should have brought our camera.” Lillian held her hand to her throat in evident wonder.
Eve grumbled to herself, “Yeah, a photo, that’s just what we need—the memory of my outfit clearly not enough.”
People had spilled out from inside the hall and were dancing, laughing, and sitting on the seats strewn around. An occasional wail of the bagpipe struck up. There were all ages present. Everybody seemed to know everybody else.
Eve saw Lillian look anxiously down the lane; there was no sign of Henry.
“Esther, you stay with me and let’s find a table inside. Eve, darling, drinks.” Lillian ushered a reluctant Eve towards the hall door.
The hall was crammed with people. Their excited chatter hummed in the room, now and then interspersed with startling shrieks of laughter. Eve found the drinks table creaking at its hinges under the array of home-brewed concoctions that greeted her.
The attractive, hand-painted label of Mrs. Mackie’s prune and barley wine caught Eve’s eye. Eve unscrewed the bottle, a sharp fizz escaped, and the sediment at the bottom floated, like a snow globe on the streams of bubbles. Eve risked a sniff. She felt the hairs in her nose burn and her eyes water. One for Esther to avoid, maybe. In fact, all of the homebrews on display, Eve suspected, would successfully clear a drain or at the very least one’s bowels. “Oh, Jane’s Jungle Juice.” Eve raised her voice at the promising label.
“It’s not local but it’s very good.” A voice came from behind Eve. She turned around. “It’s cider, strong, mind.” Angus McAlister was smiling broadly. “Good evening to you, Miss Eddison.”
Eve was greatly relieved to see Angus. “Hi, Angus.” Taking Angus’s advice, Eve filled three plastic tumblers with the cider.
“And you’ve come on your own, good for you.” Angus’s grin spread warmly from ear to ear.
“Oh no”—Eve shook her head—“I’m with my family.” Eve looked at the tumblers. Oh my God, does he think I’m drinking all three?
“Aye.” Angus had not stopped smiling. “I will make sure I say hello. You and your family are very welcome, Eve, very welcome indeed.”
Eve wanted to ask Angus if Moira was coming, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She caught the eye of Alice. Eve raised her hand to wave only for Alice to quickly look away.
Angus noticed the exchange.
Eve felt her cheeks sting with embarrassment, as she said, “Everyone seems to know everyone.”
“Aye, village life for you.” Angus paused and lightly placed a hand on Eve’s arm. “Lacks perhaps a little privacy at times.”
“Right, yes.” Privacy? There’s no way he can know I like Moira, can he? “I better get this to my mum. You know—Dutch courage.”
Eve was aware that people were looking at her. She could not be sure whether it was because she stood out as a tourist amongst the locals, or whether her outfit was attracting unwanted attention.
Balancing three Jungle Juices through the elbow obstacles of the crowd, Eve rejoined her mother and sister, who were perched on the end of a long wooden bench, in the corner of the room.
Groups of dancers were congregating on the dance floor. A clatter of cymbals and the trill of a tin whistle called Eve’s attention to the gathering musicians on the makeshift stage. A pencil-thin violinist tucked a fiddle under his chin, and a round-bellied man squeezed himself onto the drummer’s stool behind a drum kit. Every time he moved, which was quite often as his beer sat on the floor below him, his belly struck the lower cymbal. A wild-haired woman held a tin whistle to her lips. Eve half expected a snake to arise and sway at her bidding.
“John. Yeah, come on, John.” The crowd cheered the latecomer on to the stage. Slinking through the throng
, the middle-aged man quietly took his place next to the violinist. Eve thought she half recognized him. John’s arrival had caused an excited ripple of appreciative noise from the gathered crowd. The band members exchanged a unified nod, the tin whistle was raised in readiness, and then John extended his elbows, drawing out the first high-noted breath from his accordion. The Highland dancing began.
“Impressive.” Eve shrugged at Esther.
“Wow, they can really kick their legs high, can’t they?” No sooner had Esther spoken than the hall door opened and Henry, dressed in a kilt, flung himself onto the dance floor. His arms were raised in the air, less of a Gaelic master at work and more like Adam Ant’s Prince Charming.
“Oh my God!” Esther choked her words at a speechless Lillian. “No one knows we’re with him, right?”
Lillian’s, Esther’s, and Eve’s hopes of anonymity were soon broken by Henry waving and calling loudly over for his girls to join him. Everyone seemed to stop and look. Everyone, Eve came to realize, including Moira.
Through the bodies on the dance floor, Eve could see Moira standing with Elizabeth and Angus, and an evidently disgruntled Alice. Moira was dressed in normal attire—just a shirt and cords. Eve thought how attractive Moira looked. Elizabeth and Angus were laughing and clapping, and Moira joined in. Eve watched as Moira’s group divided their attention and applause between the stage musicians and Henry.
Eve attempted to shrink into her seat. She was not sure at that precise moment what she was most mortified by—her father’s flamboyant dancing and the occasional flash of Y-fronts or being in the same room with the woman she had outed herself to. Oh my God. Oh my God. Okay, you need to do something.
Eve stood to try and encourage Henry off the dance floor, but her exuberant father grabbed her and began to fling her around. Eve concluded that she had two choices: storm off and make a complete tit of herself; or stay, attempt a few Highland high kicks, and make a complete tit of herself. Making a complete tit of herself was the only certainty in the whole scenario. Suddenly they were not alone, as Angus had his arm in Henry’s and Elizabeth had tucked her arm around Eve. They split into groups of two, and the floor filled with couples dancing.
