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The next day Gillan did manage to hunt down the figure he’d seen getting down from the omnibus. It was a Mrs. Jones in the street across the main trunk road, and she gave him the information readily enough, wishing him a happy Christmas as well.
He planned it for the Sunday after Christmas. Instead of kirk, he would take them on a holiday to Greenock, where they would be in a much better frame of mind to be thankful to God for all His blessings, anyway. When he told them on the Saturday before, they clapped with delight at his idea.
“Now, make sure that ye pack well in your warmest, and keep the warm stones at your feet,” he managed before he was covered in hugs from his two daughters and young son.
“Eh, now, let him be. We’ve got to be up and washed and dressed. Did ye no hear?” Neil poked at Alisdair, who was hanging onto Gillan’s leg.
“Yes, yes! I hear’d it. Just wait!” And he scampered out to the privy and then the pump to wash. Neil grinned at the high-pitched cry, and delighted himself in watching his sisters and mother fall to, hunting for their heaviest capes and the extra plaids.
They were off early the next morning, and easily acquainted themselves with the other passengers seated on the buckboard slats. As each person entered, the driver collected the fee, a few shillings each, and wished them a merry holiday.
“And have you been to Greenock a’fore, sir?” the large matron beside Gillan asked. He shook his head. “Ah, it’s beautiful to be by the sea,” she said with a sigh.
It was a frosty morning, although there was no snow on the ground, and the company shared out the blankets, amassing body warmth through chatter and laughter. With the horses at a brisk trot, it took them above two hours to make the seaside town. The driver collected the stones people had brought and promised to set them in the fire at the public house where he was headed. “See you then at three o’clock!” he shouted to each party as they set off.
The MacLeans made their way leisurely through the main road of the town to wander down the dunes to the sea. It was churning white and green, and there were many ships of all stripes and shapes to observe, as the Port of Glasgow was not far off the mouth of the river.
Sheila and Muirne carried their baskets with provisions, while Sheena had their large quilt folded under both arms. They fanned out and pointed out different sights on the water to each other. Neil saw that Gillan had drifted farthest to the right, north towards the river, and stopped. He saw his father’s hands in his pockets, his back rigid with tension.
Neil called to him but he did not hear. Worried, Neil jogged over to him, touched his shoulder. “Father, what’s wrong?”
For an answer, Gillan merely nodded ahead of him. Turning, Neil saw what he had seen that had rattled him so. With the last winter storm on the coast, wreaths of tangled kelp stems were strewn across the bank and up above on the hills. They were not set out for drying; in fact, it looked like some had been torched where they were, but they had not burned long so close to the waves.
The initial reaction Neil had was a surge of pride: What bounty we have on our shores! But then he realized it was sitting to rot and float away, and he understood his stepfather’s rigidity. It was fury, both at the turn of events and at his impotence to stand up to them. What a waste. He pulled at his sleeve, willing him to come away before the girls came to look for him as well.
“Aye, ’tis a waste, Father, but dinna dwell on it today. You’ve had a fine idea for a holiday, and I shan’t waste it, or ruin it for the others. Let’s go.”
Gillan nodded. His eyes were moist with tears. He clasped Neil’s arm. “Aye, I’ll come. I jis’—”
He did not finish his thought, but Neil knew what he meant. They shook off the feeling of rage that had fallen on them both at the sight of their former livelihood going to rot on the beach. Neil cleared his throat. “I asked Letty if she’d be up for travel to the New World if I was to go. She said no.”
Gillan turned to look at Neil, his eyebrows lifted.
“I thought I may as well get all the sad news out at once.” Neil explained. “Now we can enjoy ourselves, then.”
Neil gave him a brief smile. Gillan shook his head slowly, following. Within sight of the rest of the party, Gillan made a great effort to appear cheerful. He threw himself down on the sand near where Alisdair was seated, digging in the sand for crabs or clams, and asked to be buried.
With glee, Alisdair made a move to slop the wet sand at his father, and Gillan rolled out of the way in time. He had them all laughing again soon.