The House Between Tides (48 page)

In the end, it was Beatrice herself who betrayed them.

There had been activity since daybreak. Provisions had been ferried across by boat while the bay was full, and by cart as soon as the water was below the axles. The morning was fine and Beatrice had wandered down to the foreshore, desperate to get away from the house, watching the comings and goings and hoping for a glimpse of Cameron. But she knew there was little chance, as he had been sent across early to oversee the arrangements on Bheinn Mhor. From there he would leave directly once the celebrations were over, catching a lift across to the mainland with one of the returning fishermen.

They had contrived one last meeting at the croft house. “I went to see the divers again,” he had told her as he lay beside her, his face next to hers. “I thought perhaps the eggs would have hatched, but they hadn't. It seemed important to know.” He gave her a twisted smile, his eyes gleaming as he bent to kiss the locket where it lay on her breast.

She watched as one of the larger carts set out across the strand, carrying the carcasses of two calves which had been slaughtered for the feast, their feet already bound around poles, ready for roasting. John Forbes had positioned himself in one of the basket chairs on the drive, with his crutches beside him, calmly overseeing the frenzy and either confirming or modifying Theo's orders. The men had been taken away from the building work to help, stacking trestle
tables and benches from the schoolhouse in readiness for transport. Boys were used as runners, conveying messages, and in the midst of the chaos Beatrice saw Theo lean down to listen to one lad, gripping his shoulder as the boy nodded vigorously. And as she walked back up the track, she saw him striding towards the stables, the boy at his heels, but had thought nothing of it. It was only when Mrs. Henderson met her at the front door and delivered the message that Beatrice should wait for Mr. Blake there, and that they would go across together, did she wonder where he might have gone.

Too weary to be much concerned, she had nodded and gone upstairs to escape the bustle of the frenzied household. The trap would be sent to take them across that evening, and until then there was nothing to occupy her. From her window, she watched small groups setting off across the strand, women with creels on their backs, holding small children by the hand while older children, giddy with excitement, ran beside them. The day dragged on, hot now, and sultry, and slowly the island emptied of its inhabitants. She turned away from the window and stretched out on her bed, her head aching wretchedly. But for seeing Cameron one last time, she would have cried off. There would be little joy in seeing him—to be close but not able to approach him, to see him but not to touch him. She turned over and buried her face in her pillow.

Gradually, the house grew silent. And as the sun began to sink, Beatrice rose and trailed downstairs to where Mrs. Henderson hovered anxiously, giving last-minute instructions to the departing girls.

She glanced up with relief as Beatrice descended. “I've put a cold meal in the dining room, madam, so you and the master can have something when he gets back. But I'll stay, if you like.”

Beatrice gently pushed her to the door. “Go with the others, Mrs. Henderson. Calum will bring us once Mr. Blake is ready.”

Still, the housekeeper hesitated, her face anxious. “Why not
come with us now, madam? Mr. Blake will understand.” Beatrice was tempted. Cameron would be there, but defying Theo's explicit instructions was too great a risk. She shook her head and watched as Mrs. Henderson took her place on the last cart, looking back at her mistress until the cart dropped down to the foreshore.

It was impossible to settle.

She stood at the drawing room window, twisting her handkerchief. Where could Theo have gone? Across the strand, perhaps. But why? Guilt gave wings to her imagination, and she grew fearful as the light faded and the room grew cold. And still she waited.

When at last Theo returned, he came from the side of the house and she did not hear him until he was at the front door, shouting to someone, his voice exultant. “Off you go now, and enjoy yourself! I won't forget what I said. No, no, it'll keep until tomorrow. Off with you.” She leant forward and caught sight of Tam, Calum's brother, running down the drive towards the foreshore. Had Theo simply been out shooting? He often took Tam with him when he did. But today of all days! She waited and listened, and heard him cross the hall to the study.

Ten minutes passed, and then fifteen, and Theo did not come to find her. Unable to wait any longer, she went into the hall. She could see him through the study door, still in his outdoor clothes, with his back towards her and attending to something on his desk. He turned as she approached, and in so doing he revealed what his body had hidden.

“No!”

He looked up in astonishment.

It was the smaller of the two divers, its head lolling grotesquely over the edge of the desk, its large feet splayed apart. A basket lined with fleece lay beside it. “
And
the eggs!” Tears filled her eyes. “Oh, Theo,
what
have you done?” He stared back at her, his hand poised over the dead bird. And then, sickeningly, she realised what her words had revealed.

And there was no way to unsay them.

The silence lasted for an eternity, then Theo straightened. “You knew,” he said slowly. “You
knew
about them.” They stood looking across at each other, motionless as waxworks, then Theo opened the drawer to put away the measuring rule. Closed it and turned back. “All the way out on Oronsy Mhor—and yet you
knew.
” He sank down into the chair behind the desk, his eyes never leaving her face. Seconds ticked by. “How could that be, my dear?”

Alarm rang through her like static, but it was too late. She dug her nails into her palms as Theo continued looking at her, a strange expression on his face, his eyes stripping through her defences. Words would not come. Beads of sweat appeared on his brow, and his face drained to an ashy grey. Then from below a bank of dark cloud, the low sun briefly illuminated his easel with its brushes and paints, and he looked away. “Cameron found them, eh?” She said nothing, numbed by her fear. “And how long have
you
known, Beatrice?” He turned back to her, fixing his eyes on her face as she struggled to find words which would not condemn her, but like a rabbit caught in the poacher's lantern, her senses were stunned. “Decided not to tell me, did you?” He paused. “A little secret between the two of you, eh?”

Her heart began to pound. She had to make an effort, but her mouth was guilt dry. “He told me—” she began, and faltered. “I told him not to. I was afraid that—that you would do this.” She gestured despairingly towards the carcass and the eggs, but he was no longer interested in them. He sat back with his elbows crooked against his chest, his fingertips lightly bouncing off each other as he watched her, and the silence stretched out between them. She tried again. “It seemed such a shame—”

“
Shame?
” He sat forward abruptly, and the blood rushed to his face. “You talk of
shame
, Beatrice?”

Her pulse leapt, and she knew then that her own face betrayed her. “I don't know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do.” He sat back again, still watching her, and she felt a wild impulse to flee. Desperately, she thought he must not be allowed to accuse her, but it was too late. “In fact,” he continued slowly, “I'm certain of it.” He leant forward, his eyes not releasing hers. “Because it explains so much.”

She was defenceless.

He rose to his feet, and she stepped back instinctively. His hand trembled as he gripped the side of the desk, white-knuckled, his mouth working, but before either of them could speak, there was a knock at the door of the study. He swung round like an island bull sensing a challenger, but it was Calum McNeil who stood there, oblivious to the dark vibrations in the room.

“The trap's at the door, sir.”

Theo looked blankly at him. Everything outside the moment had been forgotten. Then he looked down, distracted, and paused a moment before sitting again. “Thank you, Calum, but plans have changed. Saddle the mare for me again, then come back and collect Mrs. Blake. She'll go across with you now and I'll follow.”

The man left.

Beatrice turned desperately to Theo. “Theo, I don't want—”

“You'll do as I say, Beatrice, and make no complaint.” His face was expressionless, closed to reason, and his calmness terrified her. “We're expected at the celebrations, and we will be there.” He stood up again, clutching the side of the desk. “I need . . . to consider.” Even through her fear she was struck by how ill he looked. It was imperative that she try to reason with him now while she had the chance.

“Theo, you must hear—”

But he pulled himself upright, his face ash-grey. “Fetch whatever you need and be ready for Calum when he returns.”

“Theo, listen to me.”

A dangerous glint appeared in his eye.

“I beg you to—”

“
Damn you, Beatrice.
” The words exploded from him. “
Go.
” He wiped the spittle from his mouth with his sleeve and turned back to the window, shaking, and she knew then that she must get to the bonfire. Find Cameron, and warn him, before Theo got there. But what then? She ran upstairs, rifling through her clothes to find her shawl, desperate and trembling. Out of the window she saw Calum returning, while beyond the shore the last stragglers were strung out across the strand, some on foot, others on the small island horses. There would be safety there, amongst them. For her? For Cameron?

She started as she heard Theo call her name from the hall and left the bedroom, descending to the half-landing, pressing her hand to her pounding heart, knowing that Theo was watching her from the study door. “Take Mrs. Blake up to the old shieling, Calum. You'll find Mrs. Henderson there, with the others. I'll not keep you long.” And he went back into the study.

A large crowd had gathered on the hillside, and excitement buzzed through them at this rare treat. Beatrice struggled to appear as if she shared in their enjoyment. It was the hardest thing she had ever done— Tenants she knew greeted her respectfully, introducing her to others she did not, giving her their thanks and good wishes. She smiled woodenly while scanning the crowds for a glimpse of Cameron. Families had been arriving all day from off-shore islands and had come together with the crofters from Muirlan Island and now sat crammed onto benches at makeshift tables laden with food and drink, circled by excited children. The roof of the old shieling had been covered with torn and faded sails, which would provide some shelter should the weather turn bad, for the cloud bank was still gathering on the distant horizon. She scanned the hillside again. Where
was
he?

“It's almost sunset, madam.” She turned to find Donald gesturing towards the bonfire. Fiddle music was growing ever more intense as competing musicians showed off their skills, drowned occasionally by the drone of pipes. Everyone was waiting for the moment when the fire would be lit. She felt curious eyes turning to her, and Donald still stood there awaiting an answer. She looked out through fading light and shadow across the strand but saw no sign of a rider.

“I think you should light it,” she said quickly. “Mr. Blake wouldn't want you to wait.” And delay would only draw further attention to his absence. Donald passed the word back, and the waiting men wasted no more time. Excitement reached a crescendo and then burst into a great cheer at the mighty paraffin-induced roar, and flames leapt high to greet the darkening sky. The musicians threw themselves into their task, dancing began, and the fire made wild silhouettes of the leaping revellers.
Lucifer's henchmen at the gateway to hell.
Cameron's teasing words came back to her. Where
was
he?

With attention now diverted elsewhere, she was able to keep to the margins of the firelight, searching ever more desperately. Bess appeared from somewhere, a co-conspirator with her tail wagging, and Beatrice's heart leapt. “Where is he, Bess?” she whispered, bending to fondle the dog's ears, but saw the question reflected back in her puzzled eyes. Nearby, another fire had been lit to roast the two calves, and the smell of cooking meat sickened her as she scanned the gathering again. There was John Forbes, seated against the old shieling, his crutches beside him, in conversation with an endless stream of well-wishers who had not seen him since the winter. Several times she looked over, to find him watching her. And there was Donald. And Ephie. And Mrs. Henderson, organising the distribution of food. She heard one man asking Donald where his brother was, but Donald had simply shrugged. Her
eyes raked the shadows again, but she dared not ask, and fielded deferential enquiries about Theo's whereabouts, smiling brightly, repeating the same story, that he was slightly delayed but would be joining them soon. Soon, but not,
Dear God
, not before she found Cameron. Dizzy now with apprehension, she took another turn around the bonfire, her cheeks burning from the heat. She felt faint and stepped back exhausted out of the ring of light away from the watching eyes, to hide there.