had never met. So we decided to look after ourselves, decided to stay together, a tiny croft in South Ronaldsay where we managed to survive working for the neighbouring crofts, gutting fish, mending nets, looking after hens and cows.’
She held out white, long-fingered hands, a deep sigh, seeing them chafed red in winter. Then she smiled, ‘But folk were kind to the poor orphan lasses. They hadn’t much either, and our lives were built on their discards, for which we were always grateful.’
Faro ventured, ‘Your sister – where is she now?’
‘She moved away.’ Without any change in expression, a swift movement indicated that particular subject was closed. ‘Will you take more tea, Mr Faro?’
Her distress was so visible, he no longer had any wish to bring the subject round to Dave’s last fatal journey. He said, ‘Thank you, but I must go now. I am travelling back with the farmers.’
‘A not very comfortable journey.’ Smiling she held out her hand. ‘It has been a pleasure meeting you; my warmest regards to Mr Macfieand please, if you are in Kirkwall again, do come and visit me.’
He felt that she meant it.
On the way out, he noticed packing cases which had been concealed from view when the door was opened by her.
Following his gaze she said, ‘A short trip to the mainland – I need a change of air.’
He nodded and said daringly, ‘I am sure your sister will be delighted to see you again.’
Her smile was replaced by a vague nod as she closed the door.
As her sister had not come to Dave’s funeral, it was confirmation of what Inga had said, that the breach between them after so many years apart must be very deep indeed.
More cheerfully, he hoped to see Inga on the farmers’ carts and there she was, but with no chance of sitting together, seated between two young lads who were obviously very taken with her charms, looking constantly into her face, laughing and obviously flirting, which she seemed to be enjoying.
At Spanish Cove, they lifted her down to the road and Faro leapt off his cart, but apart from calling out that he hoped to see her soon, he had to leap back as the cart prepared to move on without him.
He looked back at her standing in the road,longing to tell her that he had found Thora Claydon friendly and far removed from the cold, reserved woman she had implied.
Climbing the hill to Scarthbreck he went over that meeting. Thora had disappeared somewhere near the recent excavations, a shoreline notorious for wild seas and underground caves, where the Neolithic settlement added a sinister touch of reality to ancient legends associated with the area.
He looked up at the house brooding on the skyline. Thora’s reaction to the mention of Scarthbreck – he was certain it had its place in the scheme of things and that the answers lay not in Kirkwall, but perhaps here just beneath its walls.
Mary Faro was waiting, an appetising supper laid out on the table. Her reaction to his market-day travels jolted him back to reality.
‘Now that you have kept your promise to Mr Macfie, you’ll be able to enjoy your holiday properly.’
He tried to look pleased, as was expected of him, meanwhile wondering how, with so little time and so much still unknown, he was ever going to manage to fit in another meeting with Inga.
CHAPTER SIX
Mary Faro was eager to show him around Scarthbreck. The family were absent and with obvious pride in the importance of her role as housekeeper she led him from room to room. Clear skies and spectacular views from the windows, taking in the excavations and distant islands like humpbacked whales basking in sunlit seas, calculated to add perfection to a magnificent interior, but Faro was not overly impressed.
In a hushed voice, Mary Faro showed off all the new marvels, but her anxious glances towards her son indicated clearly enough that his reactions were a bitter disappointment. There was no way of explaining, of making herunderstand, that for him the house
She held out white, long-fingered hands, a deep sigh, seeing them chafed red in winter. Then she smiled, ‘But folk were kind to the poor orphan lasses. They hadn’t much either, and our lives were built on their discards, for which we were always grateful.’
Faro ventured, ‘Your sister – where is she now?’
‘She moved away.’ Without any change in expression, a swift movement indicated that particular subject was closed. ‘Will you take more tea, Mr Faro?’
Her distress was so visible, he no longer had any wish to bring the subject round to Dave’s last fatal journey. He said, ‘Thank you, but I must go now. I am travelling back with the farmers.’
‘A not very comfortable journey.’ Smiling she held out her hand. ‘It has been a pleasure meeting you; my warmest regards to Mr Macfieand please, if you are in Kirkwall again, do come and visit me.’
He felt that she meant it.
On the way out, he noticed packing cases which had been concealed from view when the door was opened by her.
Following his gaze she said, ‘A short trip to the mainland – I need a change of air.’
He nodded and said daringly, ‘I am sure your sister will be delighted to see you again.’
Her smile was replaced by a vague nod as she closed the door.
As her sister had not come to Dave’s funeral, it was confirmation of what Inga had said, that the breach between them after so many years apart must be very deep indeed.
More cheerfully, he hoped to see Inga on the farmers’ carts and there she was, but with no chance of sitting together, seated between two young lads who were obviously very taken with her charms, looking constantly into her face, laughing and obviously flirting, which she seemed to be enjoying.
At Spanish Cove, they lifted her down to the road and Faro leapt off his cart, but apart from calling out that he hoped to see her soon, he had to leap back as the cart prepared to move on without him.
He looked back at her standing in the road,longing to tell her that he had found Thora Claydon friendly and far removed from the cold, reserved woman she had implied.
Climbing the hill to Scarthbreck he went over that meeting. Thora had disappeared somewhere near the recent excavations, a shoreline notorious for wild seas and underground caves, where the Neolithic settlement added a sinister touch of reality to ancient legends associated with the area.
He looked up at the house brooding on the skyline. Thora’s reaction to the mention of Scarthbreck – he was certain it had its place in the scheme of things and that the answers lay not in Kirkwall, but perhaps here just beneath its walls.
Mary Faro was waiting, an appetising supper laid out on the table. Her reaction to his market-day travels jolted him back to reality.
‘Now that you have kept your promise to Mr Macfie, you’ll be able to enjoy your holiday properly.’
He tried to look pleased, as was expected of him, meanwhile wondering how, with so little time and so much still unknown, he was ever going to manage to fit in another meeting with Inga.
CHAPTER SIX
Mary Faro was eager to show him around Scarthbreck. The family were absent and with obvious pride in the importance of her role as housekeeper she led him from room to room. Clear skies and spectacular views from the windows, taking in the excavations and distant islands like humpbacked whales basking in sunlit seas, calculated to add perfection to a magnificent interior, but Faro was not overly impressed.
In a hushed voice, Mary Faro showed off all the new marvels, but her anxious glances towards her son indicated clearly enough that his reactions were a bitter disappointment. There was no way of explaining, of making herunderstand, that for him the house
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