‘That must be quite a reunion,’ Beatrice smiled.
‘I imagine it must be.’
‘Are you saying that’s what Seth and Mary were like? A pair of ospreys?’
‘Aye, and all true lovers too. The longest winter and the greatest of journeys made all alone couldnae keep them apart forever. Not if they’re true pairs.’
The look Atholl threw her at this was unreadable. Was he asking about her? If she was paired for life too and if this was a temporary migration? Why on earth would that interest him? No, he was talking about Seth, of course. She had, after all, asked about his curious relationship with Mary. But Beatrice couldn’t help thinking of Rich and their own pairing. She’d never thought they’d be separated by hundreds of miles like this. She could never have imagined even a year or two ago that they’d not have spoken for weeks. She didn’t even know his address now, and their shared nest had only yesterday been emptied of the last of his possessions by the removal men who’d have let themselves inside using the key Rich no longer had a use for. Rich still had no idea where she was. Maybe she should have tried to reach him to let him know?
‘We’re so remote out here on Skye, aren’t we?’ she said at last, her eyes still fixed on the nest.
‘That we are. What makes ye say that now?’
Beatrice looked around at the beach behind her and the great mountains in the distance.
‘Oh… I don’t know. I just feel very far from Warwickshire all of a sudden.’
‘You’ll be home soon enough,’ Atholl said, holding his voice level in contrast to the distinct shakiness of Beatrice’s own.
‘I suppose so. It’s hard to remember what home feels like in a landscape like this. It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.’
Atholl’s lips curved and he laughed with a satisfied sniff. ‘You’re right, there’s no other place like this on earth. I hope you’ll be happy today, Beatrice.’ As he spoke, something up above the road caught his eye and Beatrice found herself wishing he hadn’t snapped his attention away from her quite so abruptly. ‘And there he is,look!’ Atholl’s voice turned to an excited whisper. Beatrice froze as she caught the briefest glimpse of white and brown wings flashing against the blue summer sky. The osprey had come to an elegant stop upon the nest and disappeared from sight.
‘I saw it!’ she gasped.
Atholl’s gaze met her own and they shared a satisfied smile.
‘Is Skye full of surprises? We’ve only just arrived and I’ve seen an osprey.’
‘You’d better believe it. This isle is alive with wonders.’
Beatrice grinned again and for a moment she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from his.
‘Umm, anyway…’ Atholl raised his free hand to rake his fingers through his hair before reaching into his pocket for a key. ‘This is our transport for today.’ He led the way around to the side of the garage and came to a stop beside a curious old car.
‘Is this yours? I think I recognise this kind of car. My grandad had one when I was tiny. I definitely remember this bit.’ She reached out to touch the deep green paint and the wooden struts that formed the boxy sides. ‘I remember it looking like a Tudor house on wheels.’
‘Morris Traveller; it’s a design classic.’
‘Are you a classic car lover? A petrol head?’
‘Eh, no. This is the car we all share when we come to island. It belonged to some cousin or other once upon a time, and it’s always parked here, or somewhere on the island, depending on who’s got it. I asked Elsie if we could have it today.’
‘Elsie?’
‘My eldest cousin. She owns the house there. Some of those bairns were hers. God knows who the others belonged to.’
‘Shouldn’t we call in to see her? We can’t just take the car and leave?’
Atholl considered this for a split second before dismissing it with a decisive frown. ‘Naw, I dinnae think that’s a good idea. We’d never get our day on the island. My family have a way of monopolising your time, and believe me, they’d be all over you. We can call in on the way home tonight.’ He unlocked the passenger door and swung it open.
‘Hop in!’
Beatrice gripped the seat and squinted at Atholl’s determined expression as the gears screeched.
‘Are we going to make it?’
The hill was the steepest she’d ever scaled in a car. A queue of tourist traffic was forming behind them. Beatrice glanced out the back window and winced to see increasingly dark exhaust fumes billowing behind them. ‘We’re losing speed, Atholl. Are we going to come to a stop? Will we roll backwards?’ She tried to quell the rising alarm in her chest by concentrating on Atholl’s features, which were set in firm concentration.
