Although it was late by the time the train chugged its way into the station at Kyle, it was still light. Richard took their bags and hefted them onto his shoulder. ‘We need to take a boat across to Skye,’ he said, ‘but we’ll have to wait until morning to do that. In the meantime, I booked us a couple of rooms in a hotel close by.’ He looked at her hopefully.
Irena just nodded. She would sleep with him, but not tonight. When she did she wanted it to be perfect and that excluded furtive visits along a hotel corridor.
The next morning they took the small ferry across to Skye. Richard, a secretive smile playing on his lips, disappeared into a small, single storey-building next to the post office and emerged with two heavy bicycles.
‘Our mode of transport for the next few days,’ he said, grinning broadly.
Irena was dismayed. ‘I can’t ride that,’ she said. ‘I don’t know how.’
His eyebrows shot up. ‘You can’t be serious. Everyone knows how to ride a bike.’
Irena shook her head. ‘Not me. Not many Poles can.’
‘Then I’m afraid you are going to have to learn. There’s no spare petrol to be had. It’s either this or we walk.’
She eyed the bicycle, and walked around it.
‘Come on, give it a bash,’ Richard coaxed.
Tentatively, with him holding onto the edge of the saddle, Irena straddled the bicycle.
‘The road is flat. It’ll be a piece of cake. Don’t worry, I won’t let you go until you’re ready.’’
A woman emerged from the post office and stared. Within moments she was joined by an assortment of villagers: two women with shopping, an old man with a pipe who watched with frank curiosity and several children who nudged each other and, giggling, pointed at Irena. The post master brought out a chair for an old woman dressed in black who’d been carrying a basket of fish on her back. They talked amongst themselves in a language Irena hadn’t heard before.
‘In front of these people?’
A man in a flat cap grinned at something the old woman said. He was missing a tooth at the front.
‘Don’t mind them,’ Richard said. ‘They’re just here to cheer you on.’
Irena smiled vaguely in the direction of her audience and gritted her teeth. ‘It’s just a matter of confidence,’ Richard continued. ‘A kind of self-belief. If you think you can do it, then you will. Are you ready?’
She nodded. Then she was being pushed along by him. ‘Peddle like mad,’ he said, ‘and keep both hands on the handlebars.’
She did as he asked. The bike wobbled a little as she set off, but steadied as she gathered speed. Soon she was going along at a decent pace and she risked a glance behind her to check Richard was still holding onto her. When she saw that he’d let her go and was watching her from several feet away, she panicked and before she knew it she’d toppled into a ditch, her hands and knees tangled up with the bicycle.
She looked up to find Richard standing over her, his blue eyes creased with concern. Directly behind him was their audience. No one was laughing any more.
‘Are you all right?’ He crouched by her side. ‘Can you stand?’
She moaned. ‘My leg. I think it’s broken. Perhaps my arm, too.’
‘Bloody hell, Irena. I’m sorry. Here, let me help you up.’
He seemed so crestfallen, she couldn’t help herself. She laughed and scrambled to her feet. ‘I’m perfectly fine. This verge is as soft as a feather mattress. I just thought you deserved a scare for letting go of me.’ She dusted herself down. ‘I’ll give it another shot.’
Richard couldn’t hide his relief. He leaned across and removed something from her hair and showed it to her. It was a stalk of hay. ‘Not quite what the best-dressed women in London are wearing, darling, although I have to say you’d look stunning in a sack.’
She spent another hour or so practising until she was sure she’d mastered her new transport. She tried going up a hill, around a few corners and, trickiest of all, down a slope. She took another spill, but managed to stop herself from landing on the ground by putting her feet down just in time. She noticed that her audience had swollen in numbers and although embarrassed by the attention, she smiled and waved to them. They nodded their approval when she signalled to Richard that she was ready to start their journey.
‘I think that’s enough cycling for one day,’ he said, to her relief. It had been a long time since she’d done much vigorous exercise and her legs and bottom were already aching. ‘Ian here says he’ll give us a lift to Glendale House.’
It appeared that the man in the flat cap was the post office van driver. He tossed their luggage and their cycles into the back of his van, while Richard and Irena squeezed into the front.
It was a perfect afternoon, only a smear of white in an otherwise cloudless sky.
‘And how are Lord and Lady Glendale?’ Ian asked. ‘It’s been a long time since we’ve seen either of them.’
‘They are both well,’ Richard said. ‘I know they’d like to have been able to come to Skye themselves, but they’re always so busy.’
‘I met your mother and grandfather when I was just a young lad,’ Ian said. ‘A ram butted me and broke my leg. Lady Glendale was just a slip of a girl back then, but I’ve never forgotten the way she rolled up her sleeves and helped her father fix it without batting an eyelid.’
‘My mother is a remarkable woman,’ Richard agreed.
‘She and Lord Glendale must be very proud of you,’ Ian continued. ‘The newspapers have been full of what you lads did to keep the Jerries out of Britain.’ He took one hand off the steering wheel to light his pipe. ‘Some people thought you’d turn out more like your Uncle Charles, but me and the wife always knew you wouldn’t let the earl down.’ He turned to Irena. ‘We like to keep up with what the family is doing, miss.’
Irena shot Richard a look and raised an eyebrow in question. Tell you later, he mouthed.
‘And how is your wife? And the children? Not children now, are they?’
Ian’s smile dimmed. ‘My son David is in France with the Lovat Scouts. The wife worries about him but I tell her he’ll be all right – as long as he keeps his head down. At least we’ve got that Hitler fellow on the run. And now the Americans are in it too, we can’t fail to win, can we?’
He brought the van to a halt while they waited for a shepherd driving a flock of sheep to pass. ‘My daughters are both doing army work,’ Ian continued. ‘One is with the ATS and the other is a VAD in London. Their mam is hoping they’ll get some leave soon enough. She doesn’t like having an empty house. Mind you, we’re kept busy growing crops to send to the mainland. You just let me know if you need anything and I’ll send it over.’ He gave a conspiratorial smile. ‘If you fancy some venison that could be arranged, too.’
While Ian and Richard chatted about the people they knew, Irena stared out the window. Skye was a beautiful place, with mountains on one side and lochs on the other. In the fields women in trousers, their hair hidden under scarves, wielded scythes to cut the hay. As the van passed them, they stopped to wave. The rich scent of freshly mown hay transported Irena back in time to her grandmother’s farm and a sense of peace flooded through her. Here, except for the noticeable absence of young men, the war might not be happening.
Irena must have nodded off, because the next thing she knew, they had turned off the main road and were bumping down a narrow track.
‘Good, you’re awake,’ Richard said. ‘You looked so peaceful I didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘What time is it?’
‘After three,’ Richard replied. ‘Are you hungry?’
‘Starving.’
‘Mrs Nicholson should have something prepared for us. I telephoned to let her know we were coming. I told her we could see to ourselves today, but she wouldn’t have it.’
‘Let your lordship look after yourself? And you with a guest?’ Ian snorted, slamming the door of his van. ‘Of course she wouldn’t. She’s been like a woman possessed since she heard you were coming.’ He doffed his cap. ‘I’m away then before Mairi sees me. She’s always bending my ear about the mail. I think she holds me personally responsible for it not getting through.’
Richard and Irena were greeted by a woman wearing a scarf that couldn’t quite contain her wild grey hair. Her dress had been darned many times and her cardigan was missing a button.
‘Lord Richard,’ she said in her musical voice, ‘I wondered if I’d see you again before God saw fit to take me.’
He took her hands in his. ‘It’s been too long, Mairi. How are you?’
‘I’m fine, just fine.’ Her eyes clouded. ‘You heard about my Kenneth?’
‘I did. I’m so sorry. He was a brave lad. A credit to you and Hector.’
Mairi pulled a handkerchief from the pocket of her apron and blew her nose. ‘God only takes the good. Now who is this you have with you?’ She turned her light blue eyes to Irena.
‘This is Dr Kraszewska, a friend of the family. She’ll be staying here too.’
‘Fáilte – welcome,’ the woman said simply. ‘I’ve made some scones and soup. I imagine you’ll be hungry?’
‘Ravenous,’ Richard answered. ‘Scones and soup will be just the ticket.’
After another long look at Irena, Mairi sniffed and retreated back inside.
‘I’m not sure she cares much for me,’ Irena said.
Richard looked surprised. ‘Does it matter?’
Inside, the house was comfortable without being overly grand. It was a large two-storey building with two sitting rooms, a library, a dining room and several bedrooms. Hers overlooked the garden and despite the heat of the sun outside, Irena shivered. Had she done the right thing coming here with Richard? Was it fair to him when she knew this could be the last time he saw her?
A short while later there was a knock on the door and she opened it to find Mairi holding a large jug.
‘There’s no running hot water in the house, so I thought you might need some to wash up.’ She nodded towards a basin on the dressing table. ‘If you leave it outside your room door, I’ll get rid of it later.’
‘Thank you.’ Irena took the jug from her. ‘Have you been with the family for long?’
‘Since Lord Richard was a lad. My mother was here with the previous Lord and Lady Glendale. I took over from her when she got too old to work. The family don’t come here much any more, but these big houses soon get damp if they’re left to their own devices.’ She wound her fingers together and gave Irena a hard look. ‘The last time Lord Richard was here, there was a sadness in his eyes I didn’t like to see. He looked like a man who’d seen too much death. He might have been able to fool the others with his big smile but he couldn’t fool me.’
‘I expect we’re all sadder than we were before the war,’ Irena said gently.
‘I didn’t say he was sad this time. Strikes me that he’s happier than he’s been for a long time. I suspect it has something to do with you.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘That lad is in love with you. If you do anything to take away the light in his eyes, you’ll have me to answer to.’
Irena’s heart splintered. ‘I care for him too, Mairi.’
The housekeeper shuffled her feet. ‘Aye, well, now I’ve got that off my chest, how are Lord and Lady Glendale?’
‘They’re both well.’
‘It’s a shame they don’t come here any more – not that she ever came much but Lord Glendale used to pay us a visit once or twice a year. As for the house in Borreraig, no one has stayed there for years now – not since before the war and Lord Richard brought his friends up for the Skye Ball. I suspect he wanted to keep out of the way so no one would know when they got up to their usual high jinx.’ Her mouth turned up at the corners. ‘He always was a mischievous scamp.’
‘Is it far away? The other house?’
‘Not by car. It would take you a good while to get to it by bicycle. Why? Will you be going there?’
‘I’m not sure of our plans, but we might. I imagine Richard will want to check on it.’
‘I imagine he will. Right then, best not spend all day chatting – not when I’ve work to do.’
Later, when Irena had freshened up, she went downstairs. She found Richard in the library looking through some of the books on the shelves. He’d changed out of his uniform and into a pair of trousers and an open-necked shirt. He looked so different she almost felt a little shy of him.
‘Did you find everything you needed?’ he asked.
‘Yes, thank you. Mairi brought me up some water to wash.’ She slid him a look. ‘And gave me a bit of a talking-to.’ She knew it amused Richard when she used British idioms.
He grinned at her. ‘What did she say?’
‘Something along the lines that she’d have my guts for garters – is that the right expression? – if I hurt you.’
‘Good old Mairi. She’s always been on my side.’
‘What did Ian mean about your uncle?’ she said, more to change the subject than because she really wanted to know.
‘Uncle Charles? I gather he came to a nasty end. He disappeared before I was born. A couple of years later his body was found. It had been buried. Clearly he fell foul of someone on the island.’
‘He was murdered! That’s terrible.’
He lifted his eyebrows. ‘I suspect every family has their share of skeletons in the closet. Why should we be any different? It was a long time ago. My parents don’t talk about it much but the islanders have always had their views.’
Irena was intrigued. Nothing she knew of the Maxwell family had hinted that they had their secrets. But how well did she know them? Certainly not well enough to be privy to things that had happened in the past. However, it was reassuring to know they weren’t perfect.
She took a seat by the fire. Although it was summer, Mairi had lit it and Irena was glad of its heat. This old house with its thick walls was cold.
‘And what views do the islanders hold?’ she asked.
‘They believe that one of the crofters did away with him.’
‘Why?’
‘That’s the part no one seems sure about. My uncle was a bit of a drinker apparently and a womaniser too.’
Irena hid a smile. Uncle and nephew had something in common then. Or at least they’d had once.
‘There’s a rumour of an illegitimate child.’ He shrugged. ‘Perhaps that had something to do with it? An angry father, a scorned lover – although…’ He stopped and for a moment she thought he was going elaborate but then he shook his head. ‘It’s all speculation and happened a long time ago. Let’s talk of something else. Have you warmed up yet?’
‘Perfectly. So you have two houses on Skye. Is that not a little greedy?’
He looked surprised. ‘This one is part of the estate. We let the tenants do what they like with the land. They can even buy their crofts if they choose, although most prefer to remain tenants. The estate brings income to the island. We pay for repairs to the crofters’ homes, employ as many as we can and, before the war, employed several more to keep the house running.’
He clearly didn’t care for the implied criticism. Most of the time she forgot he was an aristocrat and used to the privileges of his class, no doubt without thinking too much about them. It was the same in Poland, but she couldn’t see that it could continue in whatever new world was going to emerge after the war.
‘And the one in Borreraig?’
‘It belongs to my mother. Although she doesn’t go there, she won’t part with it. My father would like her to sell it. Unlike this house it doesn’t have an estate to go with it. And, despite what you think, my father doesn’t like holding on to property for the sake of it. But neither will he sell it without my mother’s agreement.’
Mairi popped her head around the door. ‘Your dinner is ready. It’s not what you’re used to but I’ve done the best I can.’
Irena and Richard shared a smile. ‘I’m sure it will be wonderful.’ He held out his arm for Irena to take. ‘Shall we eat?’
The dining room was glacial. Mairi had set a place at one end of the long table for her and another at the other for Richard so that they were separated by an expanse of polished wood.
Mairi served them their soup. It was some sort of broth with lumps of meat in it. Although it didn’t look very appetising, it smelled delicious. ‘There’s roast mutton and potatoes in the oven,’ Mairi said, ‘and I made some seaweed pudding for after.’
‘Thank you, Mairi,’ Richard said. ‘Why don’t you get off home? We can see to ourselves.’
‘If you’re certain? It’s just that my Hector is waiting for his dinner at home. He’s useless when it comes to seeing to himself. He seems to think that his arms and legs stop working as soon as he steps inside my kitchen.’
‘Off you go, Mairi. Give him my regards.’
Mairi paused by the door. ‘He wants to know whether you’ll be needing the boat while you’re here. He pulled it onto the shore down at our house but he says he can fetch it for you no bother if you’ll be wanting it?’
‘Tell him thank you from me, but I might collect it myself tomorrow if the weather’s fine.’
When Mairi left, Irena took a mouthful of soup. It was good, but already chilling in the cold dining room. She picked up her plate. ‘Let’s eat in the kitchen,’ she said.
‘In the kitchen?’ He grinned. ‘Why not?’
It was much warmer there than in the dining room, the stove giving off a good heat. Clearly Mairi’s domain, there was a scrubbed wooden table in the centre of the room with a bench on one side and chairs on the other, linoleum on the floor and two wooden sideboards stuffed with pots and pans as well as a dresser filled with plates.
‘I wonder what Mairi will say if she finds out we’ve been making ourselves at home in her kitchen?’ Richard said.
‘I like it,’ Irena said. ‘It’s cosy.’ For the first time she could remember their conversation was stilted.
They ate in silence for a while. When they’d finished, Irena took the food out of the oven and served them both.
‘I never had you pegged as being domestic,’ Richard said. ‘I rather like this different side to you.’ His eyes glittered as he held her gaze. ‘Although you must know by now, there isn’t much I don’t like about you.’
Her heart hammered. ‘I can cook, you know,’ Irena said. ‘One day I’ll make you some Polish food to prove it.’
‘Just as I thought. Perfect.’
‘If you mean me, you’re wrong. I’m not perfect. I want you to love me despite my faults – not some mythical version of me.’
When she realised what she’d said, she bit her lip and rushed on. ‘I hate being cold and when food isn’t rationed, I eat too much.’
He was still looking at her. ‘I think you’re the bravest, most adorable woman I’ve ever met.’
Her face grew warm under his frank admiration. ‘Please, Richard, don’t.’ She sucked in a breath. Before she knew it the words were spilling out and she was telling him about the mother and baby she didn’t try to save – telling him of her fear, and her guilt – her awful, awful guilt. ‘I could have taken the baby. There was a moment… before the soldiers came around the corner… but I didn’t. So you see – I’m not brave.’
‘My darling girl, how long have you being keeping this inside? You could have been killed. They might have shot you too.’ He scooped her into his arms and onto his lap, soothing her with words of love.
‘I could have saved their lives,’ she whispered.
‘I still think you’re the bravest, most adorable woman I’ve ever met. But you don’t have to be brave any more, my darling. I’ll never let anything happen to you.’
She buried her face in him and cried. For the child she hadn’t been able to save, for Piotr, for Magdalena and all the dead, for Poland.
She must have fallen asleep because she woke up on the sofa with her shoes off covered by a blanket. There was no sign of Richard.
The curtains were open and the moonlight flooded through an open window. After the smog of Edinburgh, the air, delicately scented with the smoke from the fires, smelled better than any perfume. The gentle swishing of the branches of trees as they swayed in the breeze filtered in from outside.
She heard a crunch of gravel and the rasp of a match striking. Moments later the smell of tobacco drifted into the room. She pushed the blanket aside and padded over to the window.
Richard was standing looking out over the garden. There was a full moon and she could see him clearly. Her heart banged against her ribs. He was a golden man. A good man. Possibly a man without a future. He’d be going back to active service when they left here and might never return.
And she loved him. God help her, she loved him. He hadn’t been repulsed by what she’d told him. He still loved her.
They had nine days left and for that time she was going to forget about Poland, forget about young men dying, forget about everything. She was going to pretend that she was safe and everything was all right with the world. She wouldn’t think about the past or the future. For the next nine days she’d be the Irena Kraszewska she was before the war – she would be a woman who could love without fear.
She opened the door and ran out into the night. He didn’t turn around at the sound of her footsteps. ‘Go back to bed, Irena,’ he said quietly.
Her heart still beating a tattoo she stepped towards him and wrapped her arms around him, resting her face on his back. ‘Only if you come too,’ she whispered.
The next morning she lay for a while staring down at him. She felt lighter, freer, than she had in years. Leaving Richard sleeping, she threw her robe over her shoulders and crept down to the kitchen. Mairi was already there, stirring something on the stove.
‘Good morning. I was just making the porridge before I brought you up some hot water. If you’re wanting a bath you’ll have to wait until the pans on the stove are boiling.’
‘A wash will be fine. I might have a bath later. I don’t want to put you to any trouble.’
Mairi’s eyebrows shot up. ‘It’s no trouble. It’s what I’m paid for.’ She lifted a kettle from the stove, poured some water into a teapot and placed it back on the hot plate. ‘I was about to bring you up a tray.’ She seemed a little put out to find Irena in her kitchen. ‘Did you eat in here last night?’
‘It was warmer.’
‘Lord Maxwell eating in the kitchen! Dearie me.’
‘Does it matter?’ Irena asked.
‘It does to the earl. I can’t imagine Lord Glendale eating in a kitchen.’
‘Times are changing.’
‘Aye, well. Perhaps where you come from. But not here.’ She finished setting the tray and placed the teapot on it along with a cup and saucer. ‘I’ll just take this up to his lordship.’
‘I’ll take it,’ Irena said quickly, reaching out.
When Mairi eyed her, Irena blushed. ‘So that’s the way it is,’ the older woman said. ‘Can’t say I approve, but who am I to say what’s right and what’s wrong? At least the boy’s happy. I’ll bring up some water – to your room – in a minute. Did you find the towels I left at the end of your bed?’
Irena took the tray back upstairs. Richard was still sleeping, his arms flung wide and a smile on his mouth, so she left the tray by his bed and returned to her room.
As she washed, she thought about the night before. Making love to Richard had been everything she’d imagined and more. She could still feel the touch of his hands on her skin, his mouth kissing places she’d never imagined could be kissed – the feel of his hard, strong body against hers – the feel of him inside her – the look on his face when she’d cried out with pleasure.
Her heart was singing as she dressed in slacks, a blouse and a cardigan. Downstairs she found Richard waiting for her in the dining room. As soon as he saw her, he stood and held out a chair for her to sit.
‘How did you sleep?’ he asked, smiling. ‘I was disappointed to find you gone when I woke.’
She blushed. ‘After we, er, I remember putting my head on the pillow and then nothing.’ No nightmares, no dreams. No more eyeless women and dead babies reaching out to her. Just deep, peaceful sleep. ‘What would you like to do today?’
A slow smile spread across his face. ‘I know what I’d like to do, but I doubt if Mairi would approve. She’s already ticked me off.’
‘Can’t we persuade her she’s not needed?’ Irena whispered.
‘I have an idea. Why don’t we stay at my mother’s house? We’d be alone. We could spend all day in bed if we wanted. We could cycle there or take the boat and Mairi could arrange to have our bags sent over.’
‘I would like that. Perhaps we could go out in the boat later?’
He hooked his arms behind his head and grinned. ‘I told you, you are my perfect woman.’
Later that morning they cycled to the house in Borreraig. As soon as she saw it, Irena knew why Isabel loved it. It was set at the end of a dirt road and hidden by trees but at the bottom of the track the vista opened up directly onto a loch. On the other side, lush green mountains echoed with the sound of sheep. Birds swirled overhead as waves shushed on the shore.
‘What a lovely place to have a house,’ she said.
Richard looked pleased. ‘I thought you’d like it. I have to admit I’ve only stayed here once – with friends.’
She took him by the hand. ‘Let’s explore.’
Inside it was as if the house was waiting for them; Irena went from window to window, opening the curtains and shutters to let in the light and pulling the dust sheets from the furniture.
‘When was the last time someone lived here?’ she asked.
‘My father’s factor stayed here before the war for a month or so while the gate house in Glendale was being prepared for him and his family and I came here with friends a few years ago, but otherwise it’s been empty.’
‘A house like this needs to be lived in,’ Irena said. ‘It should have a family and children.’
Richard grinned, pulling her towards him. ‘Is that a hint?’
She wriggled out of his arms. ‘I’m not talking about us…’ She bit her lip. No matter how much she wished for it, whoever lived here, it wouldn’t be her. ‘But you will marry one day.’
‘The only woman I want to marry is you.’
The world seemed to stop turning. Irena sucked in a breath. She turned to him and traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip. ‘You mustn’t wish for something that can never be.’
‘I love you, you must know that.’
‘You’re only saying that because you think it’s the only way you can have me,’ she said lightly.
The smile left his face. ‘Don’t pretend, Irena. It doesn’t suit you. I’ve never told a woman I loved her before, and I wouldn’t say it now if I didn’t mean it. And I certainly wouldn’t propose if I wasn’t sure you were the only woman I’ll ever love.’
He looked so much like a petulant little boy whose toy has been taken away from him, that for a moment she wanted to laugh.
‘I won’t give up, you know,’ she said. ‘I’ll wait for as long as it takes.’
His hand was on her shoulder and she could feel its heat through the thin material of her blouse. Hadn’t she promised herself last night that she wouldn’t think of the past or of the future? Piotr was dead and this man made her feel more alive than she could remember. But it wasn’t fair to let him believe that they had a future when she knew she was going to leave him. And despite everything, she was still going to leave him.
‘Are you worried I won’t make it?’ he said softly, as if reading her mind.
She couldn’t tell him that it wasn’t him she was afraid wouldn’t make it, but her. ‘You’ll make it,’ she murmured. ‘Of course you will.’
‘Is it because of Piotr? Do you still love him?’
‘I did love him, very much. I won’t pretend that I didn’t. But he’s dead and nothing can bring him back. You’ll have realised I’m no virgin, Richard. I slept with him. Once. And I’ll never regret it. But I’m tired of feeling sad. I’m tired of feeling lonely.’ She stepped forward until she could feel the heat of his body and raised her face. ‘Let’s just pretend,’ she whispered. ‘For the next few days, let’s pretend we are married, that there is no war and that we have day after day to be together.’
He bent his head and kissed her. ‘Let’s go upstairs.’
Time passed too quickly. At night, after they’d made love, they lay in each other’s arms listening to the sound of the sea. During the day they fished or swam, sometimes cooking their catch over a fire outside the boathouse close to the shore. It had become their favourite spot. Down there, hidden from view, looking out over the changing waters of the loch, the war receded from their thoughts and they let themselves believe it wasn’t happening. Irena found rubber boots in the porch and they tramped across the moors for miles, keeping away from the road. Richard pointed out sea eagles and the dolphins who visited the shore nearby. Sometimes they startled a deer or a rabbit, but Richard never took a gun with them on their walks. He’d had, he said, his fill of death.
Most days they would call on a family living on the estate. Richard would ask about husbands, sons, brothers, and sisters who were with units far away, impressing Irena with the way he seemed to recall names and regiments with ease.
In the evenings she would cook pierogi for him from cabbage and rabbit meat and he’d stand behind her, snaking his arms around her waist and nuzzling her neck, until laughing she’d give up and let him take her to bed.
She began to dread the coming of the night, knowing that it signalled one less day they had to spend together. When they returned to Edinburgh she would be leaving him for good and she couldn’t even tell him. It seemed so cruel and sometimes, for the briefest moment, she wondered if she was doing the right thing. She also knew she had no choice. Often, in the heart of the night, she would slip out of bed and curl up in the armchair and watch him sleep in the shaft of moonlight from the window, trying to imprint every line of his face and body onto her mind. Then she’d ease back into bed and wrap her arms around him, letting the strong beat of his heart lull her back to sleep.
Every morning they’d open the back door to find a different gift on their doorstep: a salmon wrapped in newspaper, a few eggs, potatoes, carrots, some flat baked bread, a brace of rabbits, a haunch of venison or an urn of creamy milk, still warm from the cow.
One day, the warmest of the summer so far, they changed into bathing costumes and swam in the loch. Laughing, Irena clung to him, wrapping her legs around his waist. When he touched her it was as if every cell in her body came alive and she could never resist him. They made love in the loch, a golden eagle their only witness.
Out of the water it was cool. Richard gave her his shirt to put on and she sat on a rock drying her hair.
‘Stay exactly like that.’ He bent down and picked up a camera. ‘Do you know I’ve never seen you so happy.’
She smiled into the camera as he took her photograph. It was true; her happiness was dimmed only by the knowledge that she’d be leaving him soon.
On their last night, as the sun was sinking in the sky, they retreated to their favourite rock, outside the boathouse. Richard sat behind her, Irena between his legs, his chin resting on the top of her head.
‘I wish I could keep you with me,’ he murmured. ‘Always.’
She wriggled in his arms until she was facing him. She placed her hands on either side of his face. ‘Kocham Cię. I love you,’ she said. ‘I love you more than I thought it was possible to love anyone. You are the other half of my soul.’
‘Then if you love me, why won’t you marry me?’
‘Love isn’t everything, Richard. I can’t marry you – not yet – not until I feel right with myself.’
‘How can you not? What is it? What are you keeping from me?’ His face hardened. ‘If you won’t marry me, why are you with me?’
She searched for the words that would make him understand, that would make him realise there was no hope. ‘Being with you makes me happy. I could die a hundred times and I’d still love you. But this, being here, is not the real us. You have to go back to your world and, sooner or later, I’ll return to mine.’
‘Your world is here with me.’
‘I wish it could be.’ She shushed his protests with the tip of her finger. ‘Please, Richard, don’t spoil the little time we have left.’
Time both elongated and contracted. She wanted to stop the clock, spin out every second. Sometimes she allowed herself to dream that one day, when it was all over, they would come back here. Richard would look after the estate while she worked as the island doctor. They would live in the house in Borreraig and fill the empty rooms with children.
Of course she knew it was just a dream. Richard was going back to his squadron and she was going to Poland. This time might be all they ever had.