We drove out of Leverburgh and up the glen with him talking about the evacuation and how he’d had his leave cut short to come up here and see the operation through. ‘If I’d known what I know now I’d never have accepted the posting. It’s drive, drive, drive, and they hate my guts most of them. But what can you do with the weather on top of you and time so short? And now we’re at the critical stage. The run-down of accommodation and stores on Laerg has reached the point where the operation has got to be completed. Pinney’s detachment haven’t enough food and fuel left on the island to last a fortnight, let alone see the winter through. And the weather chooses this moment to break. Goddammit, the War Office should have had more sense.’ He glanced at me quickly. ‘What did you think of Standing?’
I hesitated, not knowing what he expected. ‘I’ve only seen him for a few minutes.’
‘Long enough to fix yourself a trip to Laerg.’ There was a bite to his voice, a resentment almost, as though he disliked the thought of my going to the island. ‘You were there when he cancelled that flight. How did he seem?’
‘A little nervous,’ I said. ‘But in the circumstances …’
‘Nervous! He’s scared. Scared he’ll make a wrong decision. In fact, he’s scared of making any decision. Scared, too, of leaving it all to me. He’s a bloody old woman with a mind like an adding machine. And his wife’s one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever met.’
‘Are you married?’ I asked.
‘Yes, but it didn’t work out any better than yours. Lasted longer, that’s all. And I’ll never get shot of her. She’s a Roman Catholic.’ We passed the church and a moment later drew up by the hotel. He came down to the loch-side with me and helped strike the tent and carry my stuff to the Land-Rover. It only took ten minutes or so and then we were driving back. It was as we topped the rise and sighted Northton that he said, ‘D’you know a man called Lane — a Canadian?’ He tried to make it casual, but the tightness in his voice betrayed him.
, ‘I’ve met him,’ I said. ‘Once.’
‘And that’s why you’re here.’
‘Partly — yes.’
He braked so suddenly that the engine stalled and I was flung forward in my seat. ‘Why do you want to go to Laerg?’ The tension in his voice flared to a higher pitch. ‘What’s behind it? What are you expecting to find there?’
‘Peace. Subjects to paint.’ And I added, ‘I’ve always wanted to go to Laerg.’
‘But why now? You’ve managed very well for over twenty years. Now, suddenly, you have to go there. Why? What did Lane tell you?’
‘It’s nothing to do with Lane.’
‘Then what the hell is it?’ He had gripped hold of my arm and was almost shaking it. ‘As soon as I was away on that flight you went running to Standing and somehow persuaded him to ship you out on an LCT. What did you tell him?’
‘Nothing about you,’ I said. ‘Just that my father came from Laerg and that I wanted to paint there.’
‘That all?’ He was staring at me, the pupils of his eyes almost black and strangely dilated. And then he let go my arm. ‘You could have waited.’ His voice sounded suddenly tired. ‘I’d have got you to Laerg in time — if you’d asked me.’
Was he hurt that I hadn’t? ‘I was going to ask you,’ I said. ‘But you went off on that flight, and then, when I saw Colonel Standing …’
‘Standing’s not running this operation. I am. And I’m not having you or anyone else going out there and making a nuisance of themselves.’ He shifted in his seat, watching me, his mouth twitching and a gleam of perspiration on his forehead. ‘After all these years. Bit of a shock, isn’t it?’ He was smiling now, trying to recapture the old charm. But somehow the smile wasn’t right. ‘Be frank with me.
You always were — in the old days. We never hid anything from each other.’
‘I’m not hiding anything from you now.’
But he didn’t seem to hear. ‘What did Lane tell you? Come on now. He told you something that sent you scurrying up here with a sudden, urgent desire to get to Learg.’
‘He guessed who you were. Suspected it, anyway. He’s been interviewing survivors.’
‘I’m talking about Laerg. What did he say about Laerg?’
‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘He’s discovered you were on that raft and he’s put two and two together.’
‘Then why are you so anxious to get out to Laerg?’
There it was again. Laerg — Laerg! Why did he keep harping on Laerg? ‘He never mentioned Laerg.’
‘No?’
‘Just listen to me, Iain,’ I said. ‘I came up here with one object in mind — to find out whether you were still alive or not. Having done that, I thought it was a good opportunity to see the island. I’ve been wanting to go to Laerg for two years now, ever since I came back from the Aegean. I want to paint there. Just to paint, that’s all. Nothing else.’
But I don’t think he believed me even then. His face had a stony look as though he’d shut his mind to all reason, and I had a sudden feeling there was tragedy here, a deep, wasting wound that fed on his nerves. It was a moment of intuition, I think — blood calling to blood and the sense of his desperation very strong.
‘Well, you’re not going.’ He said it flatly, more to himself than to me. And then, as though suddenly aware of what he’d said and the need for some explanation: ‘This is a military operation. The landing craft are fully committed. It’s no moment for shipping tourists out to the island.’
‘I’m not a tourist,’ I said, resenting the implication. ‘Not where Laerg is concerned.’
(‘You are from the Army’s point of view. I’ll have a word with Standing.’ And he got the engine going again and we drove down into the camp, neither of us saying a word. He dropped me off at the officers’ quarters. ‘Room forty-two,’ he said as I got my gear out of the back of the Land-Rover. ‘Maybe I’ll have time for a drink with you before dinner.’ He was Major Braddock again and we were strangers. I watched him drive off, wishing now that I’d made more of an effort to discover what it was that was eating into his soul, for this wasn’t the brother I’d known. This was quite a different man — a man driven and desperate. I had that feeling, and it scared me. Later, I said to myself. Later I’ll find out.
I didn’t know that there wasn’t going to be a later, that time was running out and I’d missed the only chance I’d get of being alone with him before it was too late.
Room 42 was the same as Cliff Morgan’s, a standard pattern and standard furniture — bed, bedside table, bureau, chair, wardrobe, all in natural oak, an armchair, wash basin and the rusted steel windows looking out on to a drab patch of coarse dune grass. I dumped my things and went for a walk, heading north from the main gate, away from the camp and the landing apron. Ten minutes and I was amongst the dunes, alone in a world that hadn’t changed since the first man set foot in the Outer Hebrides. To my left Chaipaval reared heather and grass-clad slopes to the clouds. To my right the mountains of Harris stood black and sombre, their stormbound peaks shrouded in rain. I came to the last sanded bluff and ahead of me was a great stretch of sands, glistening wet, and a line of dunes standing like a breakwater between them and the sea. The island of Taransay rose misty-green beyond the dunes. There were sheep sheltering in the hollows they had worn along the edge of the bluff and below a river of water flowed towards the sea, fish marking the smooth surface with little whorls.