Read Online Sewing the Shadows Together by Alison Baillie - Free Book Online
Authors: Alison Baillie
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brown eyes.
We freeze. Shona picks up the pink teddy from her bed and throws it at him. Tom catches it and throws it back. Soft toys fly through the air. We collapse laughing together. Tom joins in singing ‘Shake it till the break of day’
,
dancing a parody of the Rollers’ strut. The music fades.
*
Sarah lay in bed and felt the rhythm of the Rollers’ music going through her head. The image of the sixteen-year-old Tom merged with the man she kissed at the doorway of her adult house. She still felt the imprint of his soft lips on hers.
Chapter 7
Tom stood at the helm of the
Lord of the Isles
as it sailed away from Uig in the north of Skye towards North Uist. The sea was calm and the sun shone, twinkling on the islands and promontories that reached out into the shining water.
After a couple of hours he saw the outline of the harbour at Lochmaddy. Although it was more than thirty years since he’d last been there, he recognised it all. He drove off the ferry and through the treeless landscape, feeling a mixture of apprehension and excitement as he got closer to the place where he’d spent so many happy holidays. Images of Shona, running on the springy heather hills and along the long white beaches, came into his mind. Nostalgia pulled at his intestines, a physical response to coming back.
The sky was huge, almost colourless, with the sun glistening on the water with a pale, almost Scandinavian glow. Through Benbecula to South Uist, the single-track road wound past the sandy bays on the right and the three hills of ancient rock on the left, and as he approached Eriskay he saw the new causeway which had replaced the ferry they’d always used before.
Driving slowly over it, he passed the bay where they’d hunted for cockles when he was a boy. The tide was far out and the low sun glistened on the wet sand. Then he turned inland up the valley towards his aunt’s house, heather-covered hills rising on both sides. Where his grandmother’s croft had stood, there was a scattering of white modern houses, all of a similar design with satellite dishes on the side. He narrowed his eyes into the low evening sun and saw a figure sitting on the bench in front of one of the houses. His aunt. She stood up and waved, running towards him as he parked the car.
Opening the car door, he was enveloped in warm arms. ‘Tom, you’ve been a long time away, but now you’re back. Annie’s boy has come back!’ Mary Agnes, his mother’s youngest sister, spoke in the soft tones of a native Gaelic speaker. Like many on the island she had two names to distinguish her from the many other Marys.
She pulled him close to her. ‘I’ve always been waiting for you to come back, to come home.’ She led him into the modern kitchen. ‘You’ll be ready for a cup of tea, or would you rather have something stronger?’
Tom took tea and they sat on the bench, gazing out over the silver water of Eriskay Sound. Tom gave an upbeat account of their life in South Africa, skirting over many of the details of his mother’s slow death from liver cancer to make it seem as peaceful and painless as possible. He described how her Uncle Gus and his wife, Betty, had been so good to them.
Mary Agnes reciprocated with news of her children, who were just toddlers when Tom had last seen them. His cousin Donald was a surgeon in Glasgow, very successful but unfortunately divorced. Mary Agnes didn’t see those grandchildren at all now. She gave a sad smile. That happened so often these days. She brightened when she talked about her daughter, Kirstie. She was married to a very nice man and lived in the south of England. She came up to visit quite often with her children, two girls in their early teens now.
‘It’s lovely to see them on the beach, digging for cockles and collecting mussels from the rocks. I remember back to those days when you were all young, playing together.’ She looked at Tom. ‘Shona was such a bonnie wee lassie. It was a terrible
We freeze. Shona picks up the pink teddy from her bed and throws it at him. Tom catches it and throws it back. Soft toys fly through the air. We collapse laughing together. Tom joins in singing ‘Shake it till the break of day’
,
dancing a parody of the Rollers’ strut. The music fades.
*
Sarah lay in bed and felt the rhythm of the Rollers’ music going through her head. The image of the sixteen-year-old Tom merged with the man she kissed at the doorway of her adult house. She still felt the imprint of his soft lips on hers.
Chapter 7
Tom stood at the helm of the
Lord of the Isles
as it sailed away from Uig in the north of Skye towards North Uist. The sea was calm and the sun shone, twinkling on the islands and promontories that reached out into the shining water.
After a couple of hours he saw the outline of the harbour at Lochmaddy. Although it was more than thirty years since he’d last been there, he recognised it all. He drove off the ferry and through the treeless landscape, feeling a mixture of apprehension and excitement as he got closer to the place where he’d spent so many happy holidays. Images of Shona, running on the springy heather hills and along the long white beaches, came into his mind. Nostalgia pulled at his intestines, a physical response to coming back.
The sky was huge, almost colourless, with the sun glistening on the water with a pale, almost Scandinavian glow. Through Benbecula to South Uist, the single-track road wound past the sandy bays on the right and the three hills of ancient rock on the left, and as he approached Eriskay he saw the new causeway which had replaced the ferry they’d always used before.
Driving slowly over it, he passed the bay where they’d hunted for cockles when he was a boy. The tide was far out and the low sun glistened on the wet sand. Then he turned inland up the valley towards his aunt’s house, heather-covered hills rising on both sides. Where his grandmother’s croft had stood, there was a scattering of white modern houses, all of a similar design with satellite dishes on the side. He narrowed his eyes into the low evening sun and saw a figure sitting on the bench in front of one of the houses. His aunt. She stood up and waved, running towards him as he parked the car.
Opening the car door, he was enveloped in warm arms. ‘Tom, you’ve been a long time away, but now you’re back. Annie’s boy has come back!’ Mary Agnes, his mother’s youngest sister, spoke in the soft tones of a native Gaelic speaker. Like many on the island she had two names to distinguish her from the many other Marys.
She pulled him close to her. ‘I’ve always been waiting for you to come back, to come home.’ She led him into the modern kitchen. ‘You’ll be ready for a cup of tea, or would you rather have something stronger?’
Tom took tea and they sat on the bench, gazing out over the silver water of Eriskay Sound. Tom gave an upbeat account of their life in South Africa, skirting over many of the details of his mother’s slow death from liver cancer to make it seem as peaceful and painless as possible. He described how her Uncle Gus and his wife, Betty, had been so good to them.
Mary Agnes reciprocated with news of her children, who were just toddlers when Tom had last seen them. His cousin Donald was a surgeon in Glasgow, very successful but unfortunately divorced. Mary Agnes didn’t see those grandchildren at all now. She gave a sad smile. That happened so often these days. She brightened when she talked about her daughter, Kirstie. She was married to a very nice man and lived in the south of England. She came up to visit quite often with her children, two girls in their early teens now.
‘It’s lovely to see them on the beach, digging for cockles and collecting mussels from the rocks. I remember back to those days when you were all young, playing together.’ She looked at Tom. ‘Shona was such a bonnie wee lassie. It was a terrible
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