‘Rusty’s no failed me yet and he won’t today,’ he said, his jaw clenched around the words. ‘But if you know who the patron saint of old bangers is, it might be a good time to start praying to them.’
She noticed the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. He wasn’t afraid in the least, and so she told herself this probably meant she shouldn’t be either.
‘Come on, Rusty! You can do it!’ she cried out the window into the summer air, which was growing cooler with every second of their climb.
Atholl looked across at her, a grin forming. ‘That’s the spirit! Come on, Rusty, old pal! We believe in you.’
The cars behind beeped their horns and the pair burst into triumphant cheers as Rusty reached the brow of the hill and they picked up speed. ‘He’s no’ so good at the inclines but he can fly down the valleys like a rally car.’
But Beatrice was too distracted to reply. Spreading out ahead of her as far as she could see were enormous mountains, skies higher and wider than any she’d ever gazed up at, glinting sunlight hitting a thousand scintillating tarns and lochs as small and dazzling as sequins from this distance, and something utterly unexpected that took away her breath.
‘Is… is that snow?’ She pointed a finger to the highest peak ahead of them before realising that all the mountains were capped with sparkling white where they soared into cloudless blue.
Atholl gazed out the windscreen with a look of pride and awe. ‘You’re in the heavens up here, Beatrice. With the very angels themselves.’
‘You have a way of making everything sound like poetry,’ she said. Beatrice curled her feet beneath her on the seat and turned to lean her elbows on the window ledge, the fresh air blowing her hair back over her shoulders as she scanned the mountaintops for a glimpse of her own angel. Were such things possible up here on this curious island? For a second, she had believed so. ‘It’s beautiful here,’ she said quietly. Deep down, she knew these weren’t really the words queueing up behind her lips. What she’d really wanted to do was tell him about her baby, but she swallowed down the impulse, wondering where it had come from. She’d have to be extra careful on this strange island if its unfamiliarity and magic were going to provoke feelings like that. She tightened her fists as a reminder not to say too much and risk spoiling everything about their sunny daytrip.
The walking was hard going. Beatrice was torn between taking in the stunning scenery, and scanning the uneven peaty and puddled ground for the great gaps and trenches that seemed to exist only to trip the unwary tourist.
It had been a struggle finding a free parking space at the side of the curving mountain road, and when they had finally pulled to a stop, Beatrice had laughed at the sight of Atholl lifting two bricks from under the tartan travelling rug in the back and wedging them behind the wheels like aeroplane chocks.
‘Not confident about Rusty’s brakes then?’
‘I wouldnae say I had absolute faith in them, no.’
Picnic basket in hand, Atholl pointed in the direction they were to walk: upwards, along the pebble-strewn and pitted road. Beatrice glanced behind at the great stream of visitors all walking downhill from their parked cars and along a boggy path between two steep slopes. The visitors had wellies and walking gear on, many had ordinance survey maps hung around their necks in waterproof covers and she was sure she caught a glimpse of the Sussex crafting ladies in their cagoules yomping alongside a burn, gripping their single ski poles. The sight made her think of the summer cardigan she’d stuffed into her bag, suddenly feeling drastically underprepared for the hike Atholl was taking her on.
‘Everyone’s going the other way though, Atholl?’
‘Precisely,’ he nodded sagely. ‘Let’s take the road less travelled.’
Gaining altitude all the time and walking at a steady pace, they followed the road until the long line of parked cars was far behind them and they found themselves in a low cloudy patch where all the island’s midges seemed to have congregated. The change in temperature left Beatrice’s skin cold, dew-spotted and clammy. She flapped her hands ineffectually at the little biting insects in the air as Atholl led the way with a look of calm determination.
At the brow of the hill, the road took a sharp turn to the right and Atholl explained this was where they left it.
After marching for a few hundred yards across ferns and heathers, they passed down out of the mist again, leaving the midges behind, and Beatrice smiled at the sight of hazy sunbeams breaking through the mists.
‘That lot back there were heading for the fairy pools,’ Atholl said, once they’d both caught their breath after the ascent. ‘It’ll be heaving out at the pools today.’
‘Fairy pools?’
‘Have you no’ heard of them? Most folk coming to this part of the world come specially to see them.’
‘Ah! Well I didn’t exactly do much research into the area before I booked my trip; it was a bit of an impulse decision.’
Atholl cast a glance that told her he’d thought as much but he wasn’t going to pry, and Beatrice was grateful.
‘What the day-trippers don’t know is that if you cross over the brae and up the pass between these hills there are more fairy pools; they’re just a little harder to get to.’
‘It looks like quite a hike, Atholl,’ said Beatrice between breaths, still finding the walk tiring.
‘It’ll be worth it. Did you bring your swimming things?’
‘I didn’t know I was supposed to.’
Atholl smiled wickedly but kept his eyes on the boggy ground while Beatrice’s imagination ran through every possible scenario of what an afternoon of costume-less fairy pool swimming with Atholl might look like. She hoped he was teasing her and that meant he wasn’t going to rein in the kinder, more humorous parts of his tendency to provoke her. She was used to people walking on eggshells around her back home and even if Atholl had abandoned the scowling, arm folding and exasperated huffing since they’d got to know each other better, she still hoped he wasn’t going to put on his kid gloves to handle her.
Soon they came to a deep burn cutting across the moor and running surprisingly fast with bronze water. Beatrice scanned its length for a passing place.
