The Skylark's Secret by Fiona Valpy

Author:Fiona Valpy [Valpy, Fiona]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2020-09-28T16:00:00+00:00

Lexie, 1978

It’s a wild, wet day. The tail end of an Atlantic storm drives sheets of rain across the loch, sending squalls barrelling across the water to whip the waves into a seething chop. Days like this are a reminder of how quickly the conditions can switch from benign to tempestuous. One day all is calm, the next it’s hard to imagine that the sun will ever shine again. There’s a west coast saying that if you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes and it’ll change. I’m starting to get used to it again, accepting that the elements dictate the day’s plans. Here, sunshine is a precious commodity.

This morning, Elspeth has booked the hall and we’re running an extended playgroup there to include a music and movement session. Mothers and toddlers are coming over from Poolewe and even as far as Gairloch. I’d originally planned to walk along to the village, with Daisy in her pushchair, carrying the musical instruments and tape player that I was going to use. But the weather has put paid to that, and instead I’m going to need to dash back and forth to the car, trying to keep everything dry and get Daisy into her car seat without turning into a drowned rat myself in the process.

I take down one of Mum’s old coats from the hooks at the door, one more suited to the stormy conditions than my own London coat. Putting it on, I shove the car keys into one of the pockets and pick up a bag containing the cassette player and tapes. I leave Daisy sitting in her high chair finishing off a slice of toast and honey in the warmth of the kitchen, and hurry down the path to the car. Groping in my pocket for the keys, my fingers close around something else. I draw out a small brooch. It’s ornately cast, a crown and anchor set in a wreath of leaves. It’s badly tarnished, but when I rub it with my thumb a glint of silver shows through the layer of black. As I stand there with it in the palm of my hand, the rain drips from the hood of my coat and glistens, like tears, on the scrolls of the leaves. This was the coat that Mum wore every day. She would have put her hand in the pocket and held this brooch, closing her fingers around it as she walked to the shop or went to visit Bridie.

A gust of wind buffets me, so strong it almost blows me off my feet, reminding me to get a move on. I put the brooch back in my pocket and fumble for the car keys. I’ll show Bridie the brooch next time she comes for tea. Maybe she’ll be able to tell me more about it.

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