The Flight of Gemma Hardy_ A Novel - Margot Livesey [108]
From the weddings at my uncle’s church I had memories of flowers and organ music, white dresses and throngs of guests. My own wedding promised to have none of these, although Vicky had presented me with a shell brooch she’d made to match my dress. She and Nell would attend, and Hugh, I assumed, would invite the Laidlaws and some of his island friends, but I was content to leave the arrangements to him. In a few days I would be his next of kin and he would be mine. Later I would go to university and later still, much later, we would have children who would play on the Sands of Evie as Nell and I had done. An enormous sun dwarfed the few dark stars of worry. My dress hung in the wardrobe, my new underwear waited. I packed my smaller suitcase with clothes for Edinburgh. On top I put my precious photographs of my uncle and my mother, and my bird book. Everything else I packed for Vicky to bring when she brought Nell to London. Already my room was beginning to look as if no one lived there.
On my last evening at Blackbird Hall I went over Nell’s lessons one more time, laying out the books and marking the tasks for each day. Then—Hugh was busy in his study; Nell was in bed; Vicky was at her choir meeting—I wandered outside. I had already said goodbye to the calves but I decided to visit them one more time. They loped over at the sight of me, and I offered my hand to each in turn. Herman rasped my hand with his long purple tongue and Petula nuzzled me with her whole head. “Be good,” I admonished. “Don’t bully the other cows.”
As I turned to leave, the clouds in the west shifted and the windows of Blackbird Hall gave back the last flare of the sun. For a moment it looked as if the house were on fire, each window scarlet and dazzling. Red sky at night, I thought, shepherd’s delight. Then a lamb bleated in the next field. Not shepherd, I thought, sailor. Maybe we would get the fine day Deirdre had wished us. I pictured us walking arm in arm down the main street in Kirkwall, then on a plane, seeing the island spread out below.
I was crossing the farmyard on my way back to the house when I heard voices coming from one of the buildings. Keeping to the shadow of the granary, I crept closer. With each step, the conversation grew louder not only with proximity but with anger. At last I edged around the corner and there, standing in the wide doorway of the hay barn, facing each other like boxers between rounds, were Seamus and Hugh.
“I’m telling you once and for all,” said Seamus, “if you go ahead with this charade I’ll no longer—”
“No longer what?” I said, stepping forward. “Why are you threatening Hugh?”
Seamus did not even glance in my direction. “Damn and blast you both,” he said and strode off towards the tractor shed. A few seconds later we heard the growl of the Land Rover.
“Gemma, I’ve been looking for you.” Hugh hurried over, breathing hard, his colour high.
“What’s wrong with Seamus? Why is he so upset?”
“He wants a new bull, and I had to tell him we can’t afford it this year. Let’s go and have a drink in the library.” He took a step towards the house, but I stood firm.
“What’s ‘this charade’?” I said. “Surely he was talking about us?”
His eyes darted towards the shed, as if to make sure that Seamus really was gone; then once again he met my gaze. “I’m sorry you had to hear that,” he said. “He’s got it into his head that I chose our wedding over his bull. I was trying to tell him that the former has nothing to do with the latter. The farm hasn’t had a good year, what with the ferry strike and the storm ruining the barley. Come.” Again he motioned towards the house.
“You don’t think you should try to find him? Make another attempt to explain?”
“No, he’ll drink and be furious for a few hours. Then he’ll come round. He knows the economics as well as I do. Are you all packed and ready?”
Not waiting for an answer, he tucked my hand firmly into the crook of his arm