‘Come, we do not want to still be on the boat when it sails back to Aberdeen!’ I said to Eirik in Norwegian, my voice sharper than intended. I was trying to gather our bags and the small suitcase we were sharing, and looking around for Eirik’s coat – where had he put it? Ah! There it was. ‘Put this on, please,’ I told him. ‘Otherwise you will lose it.’
‘It’s too warm, Mamma,’ Eirik grumbled. I gave him a stern look and he sighed and struggled into the coat. Really, it was too small for him – he seemed to be growing every day – but it was all I had been able to find before we left Sweden. We joined the throng making their way towards the gangplank of the Zetland Princess II, ready to disembark. I made Eirik hold on to the hem of my jacket, despite his protests – my hands were full with our luggage – and we walked down the gangplank and stepped down onto the cobbles, which were slippery from a recent fall of rain although the sun was shining now.
As I stood there, I was assaulted by memories. Although I had been away for over a year, Talafirth harbour looked exactly the same, with all the colourful fishing boats bobbing up and down in the water. The white-painted houses of the town were like old, familiar friends, and behind them I could see the rounded slopes of the Haug, looking strangely naked without its two metal towers at the top. On the other side would be Odda’s Bay, where Bill and I had spent so many hours together; where we’d watched the Mirrie Dancers shimmer above the sea; where we had finally kissed for the first time. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to calm my racing heart, and took in a deep breath of salty air.
‘Mamma?’ Eirik said, tugging on my sleeve. ‘Where is he? I can’t see him.’
‘He will be here,’ I said, as much to reassure myself as my son.
The harbour was as busy as ever, everyone waiting to greet the ship. There were plenty of people I recognised; they were delighted to see us and hailed me, clasping me by the hands and remarking on how much Eirik had grown.
Then Eirik spotted David Couper, one of his old friends from the island’s school, and with an almighty shout, ran across to him. They greeted each other as if it was only a few days since they’d last seen one another. I watched them, smiling despite my nerves.
‘What brings you back here, Hedda?’ his mother, Hilda, asked me, coming over. Her broad Shetland accent was reassuringly familiar after so long away. ‘We didn’t think we’d be seeing you again! Are you here to stay? Look how tall Eirik is now! Oh, it’s lovely to see you both – such a lot has happened since you left!’
As she chattered away I couldn’t get a word in edgeways, but I didn’t mind; although I was glad to see her, I was barely paying attention. What if I’d got the wrong time, or the wrong day?
No, no, I couldn’t have. I had checked everything a hundred times – read the letter a hundred times more—
Then I saw him, sitting on the low wall at the edge of the harbour. I hadn’t spotted him straight away because he was in ordinary clothes instead of the uniform he’d always worn before: dark slacks; a coat and a knitted jumper; woollen gloves that looked a lot like the ones Elizabeth had sent me in the parcel that arrived the same day as that fateful letter, and a cap pulled down over his dark curls that made him look for all the world like he belonged on one of the fishing boats anchored in the harbour. He saw me at the same time and waved. My heart gave a wild, joyous leap.
Eirik saw him too. ‘Mr Bill!’ he shouted, and before I could stop him he was running over to him. Bill grinned, getting to his feet, and swept Eirik up into a hug, lifting him off his feet. The noise and bustle around me seemed to fade as I started forwards too. Bill put Eirik down and came to meet me. Then I was in his arms, and he was kissing me.
‘Hedda,’ he said at last, holding me at arm’s length and gazing at me. ‘My God, you’re really here. Both of you. I can’t believe it.’
I gazed back, beaming despite the tears running down my cheeks. ‘We are really here. And so are you.’
He pulled me close again and I pressed against him, his arms folded around me, my face against his shoulder, breathing him in. I wanted to cling to him forever. I had the unreal sensation that this was all a dream; that at any moment all this would shatter and I’d find myself back in the apartment in Piteå. Surely it was too good to be true?
‘Mamma,’ Eirik said impatiently.
We broke apart. ‘Sorry, buddy,’ Bill said, ruffling his hair. ‘It’s been a long time since I last saw your mother, you know?’
‘It’s been a long time since you saw me, too!’ Eirik said, sounding so affronted that Bill and I both laughed. ‘Where did you go?’
‘Well, back to England for a while, then Belgium, then Holland,’ he said. His gaze caught mine and I could see the question in his eyes: Did you tell him what happened?
Eirik answered before I could. ‘Is that where you got hurt?’ he said, frowning. ‘Mamma said there was an accident.’
Bill nodded. ‘Yeah. But I’m OK now. Hey, what have they been feeding you in Sweden? You’re at least twice the size you used to be!’
Eirik puffed out his chest, beaming. ‘I am the fastest in my school,’ he told Bill. ‘And I am one of the strongest.’
With his left hand, Bill pretended to feel Eirik’s upper arm. ‘Hmm, impressive,’ he said, his eyes dancing with laughter again. ‘Have you thought of becoming a wrestler?’
‘Don’t encourage him!’ I said.
Bill turned away; I could see his shoulders shaking.
I saw David Couper waving at us. ‘Eirik, would you like to go and play with David for a while?’ I said.
He ran over there without a backwards glance, and Bill finally let out the roar of laughter he’d been holding in, I swatted him on the arm. ‘Stop it.’
‘I’m sorry, he’s just too funny,’ Bill said, wiping his eyes. ‘God, it’s good to see you both.’
We made our way back across the harbour and sat down on the wall again.
‘When I got that letter from Flight Lieutenant Jackson, I thought he was telling me you had died,’ I said. ‘I had to read the letter three times before it made sense.’
Bill shook his head. ‘It was touch and go for a while,’ he admitted. ‘What with this, the car crash and getting shot by Charles Mackay, I guess I must have been a cat in a previous life. Nine lives and all that, eh?’
He slid off his gloves and I took his right hand, trying not to let any emotion show on my face as I took in the missing fourth and little fingers; the scarred, shiny flesh.
‘I am so relieved you are all right,’ I said. ‘Does it still hurt?’
‘Sometimes. My back’s pretty messed up too – a piece of shrapnel from the blast just missed my kidneys, apparently. I’m getting better, though.’
Horror zig-zagged through me, even though I already knew all this; somehow it was different – worse – hearing him actually say it, and seeing his damaged hand. ‘Oh, Bill!’
He put an arm around me. ‘Don’t look so worried. I’m OK, really.’
I leaned against him for a while and we sat there in silence, while I remembered that day in the Swedish apartment, and the words of Flight Lieutenant Jackson’s letter, which were still etched into my brain: It is not good news, I’m afraid, he had said.
Sergeant Gauthier was caught in a mine blast in Holland, and nearly died from a secondary infection caused by shrapnel in his wounds. From what I understand it was also touch and go whether they would be able to save his hand, which was badly injured too. He did recover enough to eventually be demobbed and sent back to Canada, but I am unable to trace his whereabouts further. Perhaps the Royal Canadian Air Force or the Canadian Red Cross will be able to help – I enclose their addresses.
I wish you the very best of luck, and do let me know if there is anything else I can do.
Yours Sincerely,
Frederick Jackson (Flt. Lt.)
Even though I was recovering from the shock of thinking Bill was dead, I’d still stared at the letter in despair. More letters to write. More waiting. And what if those people couldn’t help me either?
Then I’d remembered the parcel from Elizabeth. Heavy-hearted now, and without much enthusiasm, I’d opened it, and a small bundle of envelopes with Bill’s handwriting on the front, tied together with a length of rough string, had tumbled out onto the table, along with a note from Elizabeth that had the same date on it as Flight Lieutenant Jackson’s letter.
Dear Hedda,
These arrived yesterday from your soldier. There must have been a delay somewhere as Bertha says they all came at the same time! I will write properly next week but I wanted to make sure you got these. I hope this finds you and Eirik well.
Love from us both.
It wasn’t until I’d already torn the first of Bill’s envelopes open that I’d seen the stamps on it were Canadian.
Dearest Hedda,
My darling, I am so sorry it’s been so long since I last wrote. A lot has happened – so much that I don’t even know where to begin. But here I am back in Canada at last, hoping that somehow this letter will reach you…
The letter had been dated December; at the top was an address in Edmonton. The other two letters were dated January and February. I’d read about his accident and his slow, painful recovery with a mixture of horror and profound relief, before bursting into tears.
‘Thank goodness for Elizabeth,’ I said now. ‘If she hadn’t sent me your letters, I might never have found you.’
I’d replied to Bill’s letters immediately, telling him where I was, and after that we had written to each other every week, even if there was nothing much to say. It had been Bill’s idea to come to Fiskersay again, and despite me telling him he didn’t need to, he’d organised everything, even paying for our tickets. Finally, after waiting all summer, a date was set for me and Eirik to travel from Sweden to Shetland. Bill had already been here two days, and was staying at the Royal Hotel.
‘Thank goodness for Elizabeth indeed,’ Bill said, his voice slightly hoarse. His arm tightened around me and we sat in silence again for a while. I was certain he was thinking the same thing as me – imagining what would have happened if Elizabeth hadn’t sent the letters and we were still searching in vain for one another. It didn’t bear thinking about.
At last, he said, ‘What time are she and Donald expecting us?’
‘Later this afternoon – I wasn’t sure when the ship would be docking. It will be lovely staying with them again, like old times! What is your room like in the hotel?’
‘Comfortable enough. Do we have time for a walk to Odda’s Bay before we go over there?’
I smiled at him. ‘I expect so,’ I said. I got up, brushing down the back of my skirt. ‘Let me find Eirik.’
Eirik was still talking to David, telling him in great detail about our journey here from Sweden. ‘Mamma, Mrs Couper says I can come back to David’s house with them for lunch. May I?’ he said when I touched his arm gently to let him know I was there.
I glanced at Hilda, who smiled and said, ‘It’s no trouble, Hedda. I expect you’d like a bit of time with your soldier. And David’s over the moon to see his friend again.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Absolutely.’
I hugged her. ‘Thank you. It’s so good to be back.’
‘Call for him in a little while,’ she said with another smile, and then, like a mother hen gathering her chicks, she shepherded Eirik and David across the cobbles.
‘Let’s leave your things at the hotel reception for now so you don’t have to carry them, and then we can go over to the bay,’ Bill said.
‘Are you sure you’ll manage?’ I said. He was limping again, and I could see the lingering effects of his illness in the shadows under his eyes. Another prickle of anxiety went through me; he’d said he was OK, but was he really? I couldn’t help feeling that he’d only said that so I wouldn’t worry.
You’ve had patients recover who were far worse, I reminded myself. All that matters is that he’s alive, and he’s here.
‘I’ll be fine if you hang on to me.’ He stuck out an elbow, and I put my hand through it. His arm was strong and solid, and I felt reassured.
We went to the hotel, where the girl behind the reception desk said she’d be happy to hang on to mine and Eirik’s luggage until I came to collect it later on. Then we made our way outside again. When we reached Odda’s Bay, the tide was out, the sea flat and sparkling, and in the distance the jumbled rocks of Odda’s Holm and the spike of Odda’s Fang reared up out of the waves, white water foaming around their bases. Bill and I sat down and I turned my face up to the sun that was finally breaking through the clouds, enjoying its warmth. ‘So,’ Bill said. ‘I hate to ask, but how is that divorce coming along?’
‘Oh!’ In all the excitement, I realised I’d quite forgotten to tell him. ‘It came through two days ago. I received a telegram while we were on the ship.’
A grin broke across his face. ‘That’s fantastic news!’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘I am a free woman at last.’
This did not have the reaction I’d intended; the smile slowly faded from Bill’s face. ‘Does this mean you’re giving up marriage as a bad lot?’ he said, and I wondered if he thought I was rejecting him. I had a momentary flashback to watching him walk away from me that day we’d first kissed; remembering how I’d wanted to call him back, thinking – not so irrationally, as it turned out – that after he left Fiskersay I might never see him again.
‘No, of course not!’ I exclaimed. ‘I don’t want to give up on marriage. Not at all. Just that marriage.’
His smile returned; he looked relieved. ‘Thank God for that. Because I was wondering…’ With his good hand, he reached out for mine. His gaze was burning into me, and I felt my heart skip a beat as I saw him swallow, his throat bobbing. ‘Look, I can’t get down on one knee right now – I’d never get up again – but—’
‘Yes?’ I said. My heart was hammering now. I already knew what he was going to say and I felt dizzy with anticipation, and with gratitude for this wonderful, gentle man who was truly everything I could have ever asked for.
‘Well, would you marry me?’
‘Oh, Bill. Yes. Yes!’
As he drew me into his arms and kissed me again I felt as if I was soaring up into the sky to join the gulls gliding above our heads. Everything bad that had happened to me – Magnus, Anders, the war, the German officer, mine and Eirik’s terrifying flight from Norway – fell away in an instant, and I knew that none of it would matter ever again.
‘I mean, not immediately,’ Bill rushed on when we broke apart again. ‘There’ll be a lot to organise – we’ll have to decide where we’re going to live – there’s Eirik to think about too – and—’
I silenced him by pressing another kiss to his lips. ‘We’ll work all that out,’ I said, gently taking his other hand. ‘As long as I’m with you, I am home.’