‘It’s not your fault.’

  ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’

  ‘My brother’s missing. But I’ve got a sister. She’s safe.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he says, his face clouding over. ‘One day I’ll find her.’

  Olivia thinks of her mother at home, her sisters in London, her father at sea. She cannot imagine not knowing where her family is, being anchorless.

  Jack sits up and stretches. ‘Come on. I thought we had more fish to catch?’

  Olivia gathers the line from a bucket and says, ‘If you row straight and at a steady speed …’ She starts to trail the line out behind the boat. There are feathers and hooks and weights tied at intervals along it. Olivia holds the line in her hand. As Jack rows, they chat: about food – how delicious sausages used to be, and sweets, and how war makes you appreciate that kind of thing more. ‘I reckon I’ve learnt more in the last two years than I ever would at home,’ says Olivia.

  ‘Me too,’ says Jack. ‘I’d never been on a ship before …’

  ‘Me neither!’

  ‘This isn’t what I’d call a ship …’

  ‘It must have been a bit of a shock for you?’

  ‘I guess you could call it that. I’d seen plenty. Just not been on one. I used to work on the docks.’

  ‘You’re making me feel useless. I’ve never worked in my life.’

  ‘What about now? All this?’ He points at the fish and the hooks.

  ‘It’s not exactly work, is it?’

  ‘None of us would be able to work if we couldn’t eat.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought of that …’

  It is so good to be able to talk to someone her own age about life and the future. But there’s more to it than that. She’s never felt this alive, this receptive to how another person thinks and feels, as though they are finely tuned in to each other.

  Suddenly she feels the familiar tug on the line. ‘Here!’ she says. ‘Hold this.’

  Jack lets the oars rest as he takes the line from her, feels the sharp pull.

  ‘Let’s keep it in for a few more seconds in case it’s a shoal.’

  When they pull the line in, there are fish on four of the hooks. The green and black pattern on their backs glitters like mother-of-pearl in the sunshine. ‘Mackerel,’ says Olivia. She yanks her knife from her pocket and quickly sets to work, dispatching the first fish and slicing it open.

  Jack watches in quiet amusement, leaning back and resting his elbows on the gunwale. ‘You’re really not afraid to get dirty, are you?’ he says.

  ‘Why would I be?’

  He shrugs. ‘I thought someone like you would be all snooty and proper.’

  ‘I’ll show you snooty and proper. I don’t think you gutted your fish yesterday? Didn’t want to or didn’t know how?’

  ‘Didn’t know how …’

  ‘Oh. I thought someone like you …’

  He laughs and holds up his hands. ‘All right …’

  ‘Anyway, if you’re going to eat it, you should be prepared to gut it.’

  ‘So show me.’

  They work in companionable silence. He has to shuffle up closer to her because of the knife being attached around her waist. Olivia feels the muscles in the top of his arm tighten against hers as he works. Occasionally their brown legs bump against each other.

  She shows him how to slice the knife into the fish’s belly. The guts spill out, soft and warm, and they tug them from the fish’s body and let the sea swill them away, where the gulls splash on them with delight.

  The days are shorter now that autumn is coming, but the trees around the loch are still covered in leaves, and they glow green and orange in the setting sun. They row back across the coloured ripples. ‘Are you with anyone?’ says Jack.

  ‘A man, you mean?’ Olivia blushes and shakes her head. With a stab of guilt, she thinks of Charlie, but he does not make her pulse race and her heart sing.

  ‘Good,’ he says, and she laughs because he is so direct and that is so refreshing.

  They have reached the steps of the bothy. ‘This is me,’ she says.

  ‘Nice place.’

  ‘I manage to squeeze in.’

  ‘Should think so too. You should see the cabin I share with Carl. This place is almost bigger than my home in London. And that was me, my sister, my brother, my mum, and my dad living there.’

  ‘When you put it like that …’

  ‘What’s your home like, then? Don’t tell me … A palace …’

  ‘Not exactly …’ She thinks of the twelve bedrooms, the rambling kitchens, the long corridors, the billiards room and the conservatory, the boot room and the morning room …

  ‘I’m teasing again,’ he says. ‘You can’t exactly help where you come from. Of course, I have to say that, else you wouldn’t give me a second look,’ he adds.

  She laughs and shoves him in the shoulder. A breeze pushes her hair across her face. She reaches up to tuck it behind her ears, but Jack does it first. It is a gentle movement, and it makes her heart flutter. Who cares where you’re from, she thinks, if my skin feels on fire every time you touch it. He lets his hand rest on her shoulder and then fall down her arm, leaving a trail of warmth.

  ‘There’s a dance tomorrow,’ he says. ‘Do you want to come?’

  She doesn’t even pause before saying, ‘Yes.’

  He walks down the steps and grabs hold of his bicycle. ‘Until tomorrow,’ he says.

  ‘Tomorrow …’ She stands out on the step for a long time after he has disappeared into the twilight, dangling the bucket of fish from one hand and steering the bicycle with the other.

  CHAPTER 13

  Olivia digs out a blue dress that brings out the colour of her eyes. Although she has grown taller since she first came here, she has also lost weight, so the dress fits perfectly. It feels strange not to be in shorts or trousers: girly and somehow vulnerable. She is still barefoot.

  Jack is waiting for her at the jetty where they first met. She can see the beach is lined with men and women in their naval uniforms drinking beer out of jam jars, passing them from one to another. Everyone is in high spirits. She wonders if she’ll see Gladys and Maggie, but there’s no sign of her friends, although there are plenty of Wrens about.

  It is not dark yet, but there is the beginning of the magical glow of dusk. Jack tucks her hair behind her ear like he did before, but this time letting his hand stroke the side of her cheek as he does. She puts her hand up to his and cups her palm over it, feels the strength, the heat. He offers her his arm and escorts her into the wooden hut from where music is spilling into the night. Inside, there is a man playing the piano, and two Wrens are singing. The room is packed with people dancing. The atmosphere is friendly, welcoming. Carl waves at them as they enter. He is already on the dance floor.

  Jack takes Olivia’s hand and they squeeze into the throng. The steam from all the bodies warms the hut. She has forgotten what it’s like to dance. It is another kind of freedom. She relaxes into Jack’s arms, enjoying the moments they have to move closer because there are so many people, or when he says something she can’t quite hear. She can feel the strength in his chest and stomach, strong but compliant, as if their bodies might melt into one. Around them, it is not only Gaelic that Olivia doesn’t understand. There are men of all nationalities here, united by the music.

  When the reeling starts, the atmosphere becomes more boisterous. Olivia is good at reels: she once had a governess who insisted she learn. They line up for Strip the Willow – a long row of men on one side, women on the other – Olivia laughing at Jack’s protests, insisting that she will teach him as they go along. She links her arm with his, ready to spin, when three Royal Navy officers, resplendent in their uniforms, swagger in from the hotel next door. The atmosphere immediately changes; some of the crowd mutter and shake their heads. One of the incomers spots Olivia. ‘Can I have this dance?’ he says, taking hold of her elbow. She wants to tell him to get lost, but she senses this might be a bad move. She raises an eyebrow apologetically at Jack and takes the officer’s hand as the rest of the crowd relaxes.

  Jack steps back and watches from the side. The officer pulls her close. She pushes him back. There is no call to be close in a reel. His breath smells sickly, of alcohol and cigarettes. His hands are sweaty and holding her too tightly. As they spin, he brings her towards him again and this time she shoves him harder away. He tries to pull her back against him but suddenly Jack is there. He puts a hand on her shoulder. ‘Can I have my partner back?’ he says.

  ‘She’s not yours …’ says the officer.

  ‘She came with me …’ says Jack, and there is anger in his voice as they square up to each other.

  ‘Then I think the lady is confused by which week to come dancing,’ says the officer. The two friends that he arrived with draw closer. The skin on the back of Olivia’s neck begins to tingle.

  ‘I don’t,’ says Jack, circling.

  ‘Royal Navy dance is next week.’

  ‘So why are you here, then?’

  The men are close – too close. In the background, the music is still playing, but no one is dancing. As she glances around the crowd, it is only now that Olivia realises that she is surrounded by merchant seamen.

  The officer throws the first punch, but he is drunk and Jack is fast and easily steps out of the way. Jack jabs back so hard that the officer stumbles backwards, clutching at his nose. When he takes away his hand and sees the blood that has trickled into it, the officer launches again at Jack, but Jack is already poised to lash out. The officer’s two friends step forward, but Jack is too fast and avoids them easily, keeping the first officer in sight. Carl makes a move towards the men, to shield his friend from their advances, but Jack doesn’t need help. His second blow lands in the same place as the first, and, as the officer staggers backwards again, his friends both come at Jack, but Carl is in the way and there is a scuffle and a shout, and for a moment there is a melee of arms and fists. Then suddenly a loud voice calls out from the silent crowd, and Olivia turns to see Charlie striding towards them. ‘What the hell’s going on here?’ he says.

  ‘Charlie!’ says Olivia, surprised but not entirely relieved. ‘What are you doing here …?’

  ‘Looking for these three … But more to the point, what are you doing here?’ Charlie asks, his jaw clenched.

  ‘I’m with a friend.’ She points at Jack, who is eyeballing the officer, whose blood is still seeping from his swollen nose.

  ‘Well, say goodbye,’ says Charlie. ‘It’s time to go.’

  ‘I don’t want to go …’

  ‘You have to …’ Charlie takes hold of her upper arm.

  ‘I don’t have to do anything.’

  Charlie grits his teeth. ‘I don’t think you realise, but tonight’s dance is for the Merchant Navy.’

  ‘I do realise. Now get your hands off me.’ She is aware that Jack is watching, still bristling with rage.

  ‘Do as you’re told.’

  Olivia feels the hot flush of embarrassment and anger spread across her cheeks. ‘I’m not a child, Charlie,’ she says, shaking her arm to try to free herself from his grip.

  Now Jack steps towards them, smoothing his ruffled hair. ‘She asked you to leave her alone,’ he says.

  ‘I’m not sure what it has to do with you.’ Charlie’s eyes flicker disdainfully at Jack, and then back to Olivia. It is as if he is trying to get her to understand some secret code, but she does not feel the connection.

  ‘She’s here with me, that’s what.’ Jack is trying to get Charlie’s attention, but there is a blur as the injured officer launches himself at Jack from behind, and Jack falls forward, hitting the ground with the officer on top of him. He is floored only momentarily, then he is back on his feet and taking a swipe at the officer, who goes down properly this time, clutching his stomach. And now Charlie lets go of Olivia and tries to apprehend Jack by grasping him around the chest, but Jack is broader and stronger than Charlie, and easily twists free, turning to thump Charlie as hard as he can, which just happens to be on Charlie’s bad shoulder. Charlie gasps and doubles over, his face white as his freshly pressed officer’s shirt. Carl steps in again and this time he holds Jack back. And now the whole room is silent once more, all eyes on the kerfuffle, all minds wondering what will happen next.

  Charlie helps the felled officer back up through gritted teeth. The four naval officers glare at Jack and Carl. Charlie is still pale, and Olivia feels a twinge of pity for him, but Jack is there, breathing heavily, and she finds herself crossing the floor to stand next to him.

  Charlie and the injured officer lean on each other and begin to make their way to the door. Charlie stops by Olivia. ‘Have you gone mad?’ he asks. ‘These are not the kind of people you should be consorting with.’

  ‘Don’t be so pompous.’

  ‘What would your parents say?’

  ‘I don’t care. I’ll live my own life, thank you very much.’

  Charlie shakes his head in disappointment as Olivia threads her arm through Jack’s in defiance. She cannot bear the expression on Charlie’s face.

  ‘I hope you know what you’re doing,’ says Charlie.

  ‘I do,’ says Olivia. And then all she can do is turn her back on her friend as people trickle slowly back on to the dance floor.

  Early the next morning Aunt Nancy swoops into the cottage. ‘I’ve got Charlie sitting at home looking as if the world has come to an end,’ she says.

  ‘That’s a bit over-dramatic when you think there are people dying out there,’ says Olivia.

  Her aunt closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, opening them with a cold, hard stare. ‘He says there was a spot of bother last night,’ she says.

  ‘He should stick to his own business and stop telling tales.’

  ‘Olivia! How unkind. The boy dotes on you. He was looking out for you.’

  ‘I don’t need looking out for. I was only dancing.’

  ‘Yes. I heard.’

  ‘Why do you say it like that? Am I not allowed to dance?’

  ‘I don’t mind that you were out dancing. It’s who you were dancing with.’

  ‘Because he’s not an officer …’

  ‘There are rules and regulations that we must all abide by …’

  ‘Perhaps if you met him …’

  ‘I will not meet him. By all accounts, he’s a vulgar young philistine, and certainly not good enough for the likes of you.’

  ‘A vulgar young philistine! He’s got better manners than you and Charlie, that’s for sure.’

  ‘Starting fights, behaving in such a rough manner …?’

  ‘He didn’t start it! If you must know, it was a fine, upstanding member of His Majesty’s Royal Navy that started it …’

  ‘Provoked, no doubt …’

  ‘No! You’re utterly wrong. Just because he hasn’t got a country estate or a title or the right number of stripes on the right sort of uniform, doesn’t make him guilty …’

  They glare at each other for a moment. Aunt Nancy looks Olivia up and down, and then she finally says, ‘It’s my fault.’

  ‘What’s your fault?’

  ‘That you’re a wild girl with no manners who needs to be taken in hand.’

  ‘Rubbish.’

  ‘I thought it would do you some good to have a bit of freedom. I hadn’t realised you weren’t ready for it. I’ve been distracted … You need to go home. Before you turn completely feral.’

  ‘You said I’d done well – selling food and keeping accounts.’

  ‘It was meant to help you grow up, until you are old enough to do something truly useful.’

  ‘It is useful.’

  ‘Maybe. But you can’t sell fish here for the rest of your life.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous. There are expectations. And being a fishwife is not one of them.’

  Olivia rolls her eyes. ‘God, you’re all such snobs …’

  ‘Perhaps we are. But one day this war will end, and you’ll start a proper life. Get married …’

  ‘This is a proper life.’

  ‘It’s not. A girl like you can’t live here.’

  ‘Why not? What about you?’

  ‘It’s different. My life is over. Yours is just beginning.’

  ‘You can’t make me leave.’

  ‘I can.’ Her aunt turns to go. ‘I spoke to your mother this morning and booked the tickets. You’re going in three days.’

  ‘But I thought it was too dangerous at home? That’s why I was sent here in the first place.’

  ‘That was when no one knew what to do with you. You’re older now, and it’s time you did something worthwhile instead of swanning around here.’

  ‘But you wanted me to become more independent …’

  ‘Independent, yes. Without regard for your position, no.’

  Olivia is shocked. Shocked that her aunt can be so forceful. Shocked that her aunt thinks she’s so terrible. Shocked at the thought she might have to leave Loch Ewe. Shocked that it’s leaving Jack that hurts more than anything. Everything is suddenly so complicated. Tears prick her eyes. ‘I won’t go,’ she says. ‘You can’t force me.’

  ‘Oh, believe me, I can.’

  Olivia watches her aunt disappear up the track. Across the loch, the ships turn and twist with the tide. Behind her, Jack pokes his head into the hall. ‘All clear?’ he asks.

  Olivia turns. His hair is tousled, and he still looks half asleep. He grins and they both start to laugh, but then Olivia feels as if she might burst into tears. ‘Did you hear?’ she says. ‘She’s sending me away.’

  He walks to her, barefoot and bare-chested. He enfolds her into his thick arms. She can feel the life pulsing through his body. He buries his face in her hair. ‘I’ve got to go too,’ he says. ‘My ship’s leaving the day after tomorrow.’

  ‘Where?’ she says. It seems so unfair. They have only just met. There is so much to learn about this quiet man with the dark eyes. It is as though someone has tantalisingly allowed her to experience the most exquisite happiness, and now there will be nothing but pain.

  ‘Back south to take on more cargo.’

 

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