Page 45 of The Sky Beneath Us
But words alone don’t seem enough. So, instead of saying anything, I lean over and kiss his lips. And I feel them curve upwards into a smile of their own beneath mine.
He puts his arms around me, and we sit gazing out across the cove, my head cradled on his shoulder, and it feels so right. As if this is exactly where I always should have been.
We’re moored in a millpond of gold, the flamingo-pink of the sunset perfectly reflected, as if we’re floating in the sky. Then the final words in Violet’s journal come back to me and I rearrange them, just a little, to match my thoughts:I wonder at the possibility of a new future as I gaze out at the sky beneath us.
The next day the wind and tides seem to understand our longing to be home, and they conspire in our favour as we navigate our way northwards up the coast. Anticipation rises within me as we round the headland, into Loch Ewe. We’re tacking again now, and it’s tricky sailing as the wind blusters and bounces from the hills enfolding the loch, so Jack’s at the helm and I send a message to Mum and the girls, and to Elspeth too, to let them know we’re nearly there. I can see my messages have been read, but I don’t know whether they’ll come to meet us or whether we’ll need to keep a distance from everyone for a quarantine period, mindful of the virus and the need to keep them safe. But then, as we turn on our final tack towards the pier, Jack nudges me and grins. ‘Looks like there’s a bit of a reception committee gathering.’ He reaches for a pair of binoculars and hands them to me.
I can make out Mara there, dancing with excitement, and then Sorcha and Mum, waving their arms. Elspeth’s there too, waiting to hug her son. As we draw nearer, I hear them whooping and I call back, even though the wind snatches my words and flings them backwards. ‘I love you all so much.’
I turn and scramble back to Jack’s side, ready to help with the final approach. He leans down and says quietly, ‘I love you so much too, Daisy Laverock.’
I turn my face to his and kiss him again. When I look back towards the pier, I see the whole lot of them are dancing now as they cheer us home. And I don’t need the binoculars, now, to be able to tell they’re laughing and crying all at the same time, just like us.
My concerns about quarantine were answered yesterday when we mooredSkylarkalongside the pier: the six of us are isolating together in the big house for ten days but, as Mara declared, they decided they’re prepared to risk catching the lurgy from us in return for a hug. Mum and Elspeth – whose age puts them at the greatest risk – reckon they’re probably immune, in any case, since they’ve both already had the virus.
We wait until the sun is beginning to set, slipping inexorably towards the far horizon, and then we all walk together up the hill behind the big house to say our final farewell to Davy. It’s late, but we don’t want this day to end because then we know he’ll be fully gone from us. We’ll still hold him in our hearts and whenever we catch the scent of the ocean on a westerly wind, we’ll remember him. But we have to let him go, as we all must do eventually. Because every meeting holds the seeds of parting, as Themi said. But how thankful we are that we knew him, that he was with us, that he loved us.
Before we set off from the house, I placed akataround each of our necks, linking us with that other family on the other side of the world, and our pale silk scarves flutter in the breeze at the top of the hill, a little like prayer flags.
We take our time, still reluctant to say that last goodbye. The setting sun floods the clouds with washes of deep rose and lily-pink. Then Mum takes the lid off the cylinder of ashes and releases them on to the wind. She gives a little sob as she does so, and we gather close around her, holding her. She still looks tired and grey from her own illness and her grief, and I try to pour some of my strength into her to help her get through this moment. I know there’ll be many more difficult moments for her – for us all – in the months and years ahead. The pandemic continues to make life uncertain at best, and it will take more time to grieve the loss of Davy. But I know, too, that we will walk that stony path side by side, helping and encouraging one another, giving each other comfort when it’s needed most.
Mara and Sorcha lead the way back to the house, lighting the path with torches, and Jack and I help Mum and Elspeth pick their way among the stones and tussocks of heather.
Once back home, we turn on lights and gather in the sitting room. Jack pours a dram of Davy’s favourite whisky for each of us, and we raise our glasses in a toast. ‘To Davy.’
After we’ve taken a drink, Mara gives a wicked grin and says, ‘And here’s to Mum and Jack as well. May I just say it’s about bloody time!’
They all laugh at the look of amazement on my face, rapidly followed by the heat of the blush that flushes through my whole body.
‘Oh, come on Mum,’ Mara says. ‘It’s been patently clear to all of us except you that he’s had a thing for you, like, forever.’
Jack shakes his head, mock-ashamed. ‘Was it really that obvious?’ he asks.
‘Of course it was, dear,’ says Elspeth placidly. ‘Ever since you were about three years old and you used to bring her shells on the beach to put on her sandcastles. And then you got so drunk at herwedding and cried on my shoulder. You probably don’t remember much about that night, do you? But I told you that you were a daft laddie not to have spoken up earlier and then I took you home and put you into your bed to sleep it off.’
‘Oh well, we got there in the end,’ I say, with a rueful smile, leaning into Jack’s embrace. ‘We both just had a bit of living we needed to do first.’
Davy’s guitar leans against the piano in the corner, so I pick it up and tune it. I begin to play the chords of the ‘Eriskay Love Lilt’, softly at first, until Sorcha joins in on the piano and Mara starts to sing the words of his favourite song.
When I’m lonely, dear white heart,
Black the night or wild the sea,
By love’s light my foot finds
The old pathway to thee.
Mum and Elspeth join in the chorus, Mum’s voice still holding the traces of its former purity from her youth.
Vair me oro van o,
Vair me oro van ee,
Vair me oru o ho,
Sad am I without thee.
We all sing the final verse together, Jack’s tenor adding a richness to the words, which seem to come from our hearts rather than our mouths.
