brought him through the door.” She took a sip of her drink, not looking at China but lost in her reflections. “We always said James would either make a fine businessman or a criminal. I suspect he’s found a way of combining both careers these days.”
“He mentioned a will, something new that Aunt Bea made a few days before she died?”
“Aye, for once he’s telling the truth. I sat next to Beatrice, propped up with pillows in that massive bed of hers, as she wrote and dated it with her own hand, then I signed as a witness. But now it’s gone as if it never existed. I know folk are whispering behind my back that maybe I made it up just to stop James, but I didn’t. She wrote a new will leaving everything to you and that’s a fact, so help me God.”
Biddy Baxter glanced across at China, her hazel-flecked eyes and that homely, friendly face as serious as China had ever seen them.
“Then all we’ve got to do is find it,” said China.
Mrs. Baxter nodded and seemed to unwind a touch.
“Both Douglas and James have been through the house from top to bottom, at separate times of course. We reckon James got hold of a key when he charmed Beatrice with his business ideas. All I could think of was maybe Bea wrote about making the will in her journal, but I haven’t had the heart to go up to the Grange and read it since she passed.”
“Journal? I think I saw it in her room when Donald took me to the Grange yesterday. She was in her eighties and she kept a diary?”
“That’s right. On the dressing table will be a large green-covered book. Every year she wrote about the comings and goings of the island people, the changing of the seasons, the storms, and the bright days. One book a year for as long as I can remember. You really need to have them, China my love, no matter what the fate of the Grange. They are a social and natural history of Butterfly Island as seen through her eyes. If you ever want to get to know your aunt again, read those journals.”
“Butterfly Island. I thought only my dad called West Uist that!” exclaimed China, her eyes misting over for a moment.
“At this time of the year when the various species of butterflies are ready to hatch, the name tends to be used more than you think. It’s a hard life here on this lump of rock in the middle of the sea . . . but there’s a little bit of the romantic in all of us when the butterflies swarm.”
She held China’s arm for a second and gave it a squeeze. “Well, I better get back to it. This crowd are like locusts when they get going. I’m glad you believe me about the will. It saddens me that some of my good friends and neighbours think I’m making it up just to cause mischief. You see, not everyone is in love with this island existence like my family and I. Some would like to take James’s money and leave for the mainland to start a new life. So you just take care to whom you confide in. Please take care.” Then she was gone, back into the heat of the kitchen, leaving China to ponder over what she had told her.
The object of Mrs. Baxter’s concern, James McKriven, had kept a low profile during the Wake. But he had slipped quietly amongst the crowd, shaking a few hands here and buying a round of drinks there. All the while keeping an eye on the city girl, trying to work out what was best to do about her next.
Another direct approach here would be foolish. Although he had his allies in the crowd, that big lump Donald was keeping a close eye of China, too. Then, he always did have a soft spot for the girl when they were young. No, the approach had to be more businesslike and on a professional level. What little he had been able to find out about China Stuart was she was a 21 st century city girl, with all the expectations and aspirations that created. Appeal to her monetary side and he felt he couldn’t go wrong.
So it was whilst China was engaged in her deep conversation with Biddy Baxter that James made his next move, catching
“He mentioned a will, something new that Aunt Bea made a few days before she died?”
“Aye, for once he’s telling the truth. I sat next to Beatrice, propped up with pillows in that massive bed of hers, as she wrote and dated it with her own hand, then I signed as a witness. But now it’s gone as if it never existed. I know folk are whispering behind my back that maybe I made it up just to stop James, but I didn’t. She wrote a new will leaving everything to you and that’s a fact, so help me God.”
Biddy Baxter glanced across at China, her hazel-flecked eyes and that homely, friendly face as serious as China had ever seen them.
“Then all we’ve got to do is find it,” said China.
Mrs. Baxter nodded and seemed to unwind a touch.
“Both Douglas and James have been through the house from top to bottom, at separate times of course. We reckon James got hold of a key when he charmed Beatrice with his business ideas. All I could think of was maybe Bea wrote about making the will in her journal, but I haven’t had the heart to go up to the Grange and read it since she passed.”
“Journal? I think I saw it in her room when Donald took me to the Grange yesterday. She was in her eighties and she kept a diary?”
“That’s right. On the dressing table will be a large green-covered book. Every year she wrote about the comings and goings of the island people, the changing of the seasons, the storms, and the bright days. One book a year for as long as I can remember. You really need to have them, China my love, no matter what the fate of the Grange. They are a social and natural history of Butterfly Island as seen through her eyes. If you ever want to get to know your aunt again, read those journals.”
“Butterfly Island. I thought only my dad called West Uist that!” exclaimed China, her eyes misting over for a moment.
“At this time of the year when the various species of butterflies are ready to hatch, the name tends to be used more than you think. It’s a hard life here on this lump of rock in the middle of the sea . . . but there’s a little bit of the romantic in all of us when the butterflies swarm.”
She held China’s arm for a second and gave it a squeeze. “Well, I better get back to it. This crowd are like locusts when they get going. I’m glad you believe me about the will. It saddens me that some of my good friends and neighbours think I’m making it up just to cause mischief. You see, not everyone is in love with this island existence like my family and I. Some would like to take James’s money and leave for the mainland to start a new life. So you just take care to whom you confide in. Please take care.” Then she was gone, back into the heat of the kitchen, leaving China to ponder over what she had told her.
The object of Mrs. Baxter’s concern, James McKriven, had kept a low profile during the Wake. But he had slipped quietly amongst the crowd, shaking a few hands here and buying a round of drinks there. All the while keeping an eye on the city girl, trying to work out what was best to do about her next.
Another direct approach here would be foolish. Although he had his allies in the crowd, that big lump Donald was keeping a close eye of China, too. Then, he always did have a soft spot for the girl when they were young. No, the approach had to be more businesslike and on a professional level. What little he had been able to find out about China Stuart was she was a 21 st century city girl, with all the expectations and aspirations that created. Appeal to her monetary side and he felt he couldn’t go wrong.
So it was whilst China was engaged in her deep conversation with Biddy Baxter that James made his next move, catching
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