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Authors: Alison Baillie
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thing that happened, a wicked terrible thing. That your poor mother had to suffer that – the loss of a child.’
She laid her hand on Tom’s. ‘The pity is she didn’t come back here. I think it was your father who wanted to go to South Africa. Kenny always was a wanderer, him being in the Merchant Navy and all. I suppose Gus’s offer just seemed the best thing to do at the time.’ She paused and smiled wistfully. ‘And your father never did want to come back to the islands.’
Tom thought back; he remembered his father had always stayed in Edinburgh when they came up in the summer holidays. He said something about having to work. Tom couldn’t even remember ever visiting his father’s parents on Lewis.
Mary Agnes continued in her gentle tones. ‘Our mum and dad were so pleased when Annie met a man from the Islands. They’d worried when she went away to Edinburgh to do her nursing that she’d meet the wrong kind of folk. But because your father was a Lewis man they thought he’d treat her right. Of course, he was that wee bitty older, having been away on the tankers, but he gave that all up for her when she wanted him to settle in Edinburgh.’
She paused, obviously wondering whether to say more. When she did, she sounded sad. ‘Of course, it was difficult for him, her being a Catholic and all. I think it caused some problems with his family. You know what the church is like up on Lewis, they think Catholics are the anti-Christ. Be that as it may, Kenny never talked about his family and he never went back. Annie said often enough that you bairns should know all your grandparents, but Kenny wouldn’t have any of it.’
Tom thought back. What did he know about his other grandparents? They were just never mentioned. Tom was astonished how unquestioning he had been when he was young. He couldn’t remember ever asking about them or even thinking it was odd that they never visited. It was just the way it was.
Mary Agnes pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her deep-set eyes. ‘But what a lovely wee family you were. Until, that monster…’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘I still cannae believe it. I cannae believe that any man would do that to a wee lassie like her.’ She tucked her hanky back in her sleeve and smoothed her skirt. ‘I think we need that dram, now.’
‘I think we do, Aunty Mary.’ He hugged her to him and held her tight. Then they sat, watching the sun sink into the sea, and drank a glass of whisky, silent in their own thoughts.
Tom wondered whether he should mention the news about Logan Baird’s release, but he realised he had to. It might hit the national news any day and it was better his aunt heard it from him. When he told his aunt she nodded and sighed. ‘It’s a bad business.’ There were no tears, no histrionics. The islanders were stoical, used to tragedy and accepted that life was hard and unfair.
Later, eating roast chicken, he caught up on some island news and then they sat and watched the huge television. Mary Agnes was knitting the complicated design of the seamless Eriskay sweater when she turned to her nephew.
‘What happened to you, Tom? You were so clever at school – I always thought you’d be a doctor or a lawyer. I hoped you’d meet a nice girl and have your own wee family. New life would have made it easier for everyone to move on.’
Tom didn’t know what to say. These were thoughts that sometimes came to him, but it was easier to bury them, to drift along and live from day to day. His mother had never asked difficult questions like these. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happened to all the years.’ He looked down.
His aunt, seeming to sense his discomfort, turned the conversation to her sister’s ashes. They decided on Thursday evening for the ceremony, enough time for Mary Agnes to contact all the relatives and the local priest. Tom hadn’t thought of involving the church, but he was more than willing to leave the
She laid her hand on Tom’s. ‘The pity is she didn’t come back here. I think it was your father who wanted to go to South Africa. Kenny always was a wanderer, him being in the Merchant Navy and all. I suppose Gus’s offer just seemed the best thing to do at the time.’ She paused and smiled wistfully. ‘And your father never did want to come back to the islands.’
Tom thought back; he remembered his father had always stayed in Edinburgh when they came up in the summer holidays. He said something about having to work. Tom couldn’t even remember ever visiting his father’s parents on Lewis.
Mary Agnes continued in her gentle tones. ‘Our mum and dad were so pleased when Annie met a man from the Islands. They’d worried when she went away to Edinburgh to do her nursing that she’d meet the wrong kind of folk. But because your father was a Lewis man they thought he’d treat her right. Of course, he was that wee bitty older, having been away on the tankers, but he gave that all up for her when she wanted him to settle in Edinburgh.’
She paused, obviously wondering whether to say more. When she did, she sounded sad. ‘Of course, it was difficult for him, her being a Catholic and all. I think it caused some problems with his family. You know what the church is like up on Lewis, they think Catholics are the anti-Christ. Be that as it may, Kenny never talked about his family and he never went back. Annie said often enough that you bairns should know all your grandparents, but Kenny wouldn’t have any of it.’
Tom thought back. What did he know about his other grandparents? They were just never mentioned. Tom was astonished how unquestioning he had been when he was young. He couldn’t remember ever asking about them or even thinking it was odd that they never visited. It was just the way it was.
Mary Agnes pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her deep-set eyes. ‘But what a lovely wee family you were. Until, that monster…’ She paused and took a deep breath. ‘I still cannae believe it. I cannae believe that any man would do that to a wee lassie like her.’ She tucked her hanky back in her sleeve and smoothed her skirt. ‘I think we need that dram, now.’
‘I think we do, Aunty Mary.’ He hugged her to him and held her tight. Then they sat, watching the sun sink into the sea, and drank a glass of whisky, silent in their own thoughts.
Tom wondered whether he should mention the news about Logan Baird’s release, but he realised he had to. It might hit the national news any day and it was better his aunt heard it from him. When he told his aunt she nodded and sighed. ‘It’s a bad business.’ There were no tears, no histrionics. The islanders were stoical, used to tragedy and accepted that life was hard and unfair.
Later, eating roast chicken, he caught up on some island news and then they sat and watched the huge television. Mary Agnes was knitting the complicated design of the seamless Eriskay sweater when she turned to her nephew.
‘What happened to you, Tom? You were so clever at school – I always thought you’d be a doctor or a lawyer. I hoped you’d meet a nice girl and have your own wee family. New life would have made it easier for everyone to move on.’
Tom didn’t know what to say. These were thoughts that sometimes came to him, but it was easier to bury them, to drift along and live from day to day. His mother had never asked difficult questions like these. ‘I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happened to all the years.’ He looked down.
His aunt, seeming to sense his discomfort, turned the conversation to her sister’s ashes. They decided on Thursday evening for the ceremony, enough time for Mary Agnes to contact all the relatives and the local priest. Tom hadn’t thought of involving the church, but he was more than willing to leave the
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