The Lost Lights of St Kilda by Elisabeth Gifford

Author:Elisabeth Gifford
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atlantic Books

CHAPTER 22

Fred

ST KILDA, 1927

Archie decided he’d go and see for himself how the fulmar harvest was progressing. He was part of that set who liked to hunt and stalk, up for the challenge of bagging a few birds even without the aid of a gun.

‘But listen, Archie,’ I said as he left that morning. ‘You’re to stay in one piece and come back and do your essay. No heroics now.’

He gave that wicked little grin.

I watched him set off with the boys, a faint harr of mist across the grass that would vanish as the sun grew warmer, Callum and Lachie listening to Archie’s prattle, clearly in awe of him, though he was the one going to learn from them; the boys in their old and well-worn tweed trousers, double patched at the knees and shoulders against the rubbing of the guide rope and the edges of the rock face, their feet bare; Archie in his plus fours, a tweed jacket slung over his shoulder, a white shirt freshly laundered by Mrs MacKinnon. They were joshing together, crowning Archie with the coil of rope. I saw him take out his hip flask, a quick sip, holding it out for the others to join him.

With the bothy quiet again, I took the chance to carry on with my notes, although the awareness that Archie was out on the cliffs felt like a dim figure of foreboding standing behind me. Eventually, I could ignore it no longer, gave up on work and glanced at my watch. Almost noon. I noticed Chrissie and Mrs MacKinnon heading up the hill with the boys’ strupac and ran out to join them, a kind wind at our backs as we rose up the flank of Conachair.

I wondered how these women coped with their men down on the cliffs so often. My nerves were in shreds after a morning of vivid imaginings. I knew Archie would have to try something risky. Combine that with my memory of looking over the long giddy drop to the water, and I felt an increasing unease even as we climbed. But then didn’t these men go out on the cliffs all the time? I told myself. Didn’t they come home perfectly safe?

Almost always came home safe.

Arm in arm, talking together, the women had summited the hill, a view across the slopes to where the boys were working at the cliff edge. I saw Chrissie raise an arm to wave to Archie and Callum. Then she stopped, began to run. I narrowed my eyes. Something wrong in the way Archie was sitting so near the cliff, his head bowed, Callum pacing up and down the edge. Something very wrong.

Both Chrissie and Mrs MacKinnon were running now. I broke into a run too, the sweet air and the bird cries filled with dread. Archie raised his head as we approached, Callum running to meet us, his eyes wide and brow wrinkled.

There was no sign of the rope on the grass. And Lachie? Where

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