Noel’s sister was a petite and attractive brunette. Alex, forewarned of her arrival, had been gloomily anticipating a curly haired women’s libber and was treated to a quickening moment when Mackinnon called him over to a parked landrover and she emerged from the passenger seat in slim blue jeans and feminine checked shirt.
The rain had paused, and behind Alex the remainder of the squad busied themselves with small chores around the Community Centre, for the day had been adjudged too wet to justify taking men to Fort William on their recreational trip. Given that they were no longer cooking for themselves, the amenities offered by Strontian would easily meet their needs.
“Susan,” Mackinnon said, “this is Alex, Noel’s friend,” and watched the big athlete’s surprise before he recovered with a routine “very pleased to meet you.”
Mackinnon glanced at lumpy cumulus overhead. “Alex, why don’t you walk Susan to the Argyll Hotel, eh? She would like to talk to you about her brother.”
The young woman intervened before Alex could reply. “Mr. Mackinnon, my car isn’t so far away. I would like to see the place where Noel stayed and places where he worked. Perhaps Alex wouldn’t mind showing them to me. It’s only ten o’clock. We should be back before lunch, if that is all right. I mean, I hope Alex has some spare time today.”
“Of course,” Mackinnon said “Fine with you, Alex?”
“Sure,” Alex said, suddenly apprehensive that he would soon witness the self-assured young woman break down in floods of emotion, “I’ll put on an anorak.” He walked quickly into the hall and returned clad for squalls.
The two walked together to the Argyll where her small Fiat was parked, and Alex squeezed into a front passenger seat so far forward on its floor channel that his knees pressed against his midriff.
“My friend is the same size as me,” Susan said. “You are fairly gigantic. Better adjust the seat back as far as it will go.”
The seat of the car clunked back and Alex stretched his legs. Polloch had never been signposted by a Commission sensible of the dangers posed by its inhabitants to daughters of the community. He gave directions.
They drove out of Strontian, past the unused lead mine of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries and up the steeply twisting road. On reaching a vantage point Susan pulled into an adjacent layby and they both got out of the car. At this elevation the wet morning struck with chill and Susan zipped into a light coloured anorak.
A trace of rain glistened on their faces. The hillside south of the road rose behind them freshly green, bristling with tall spruce. To the north, ground sloped downhill, incinerated conifers spearing upwards in their hundreds of thousands. All was black. Blackness travelled over the prospect below and spread up the opposing line of hills. Grey veils of mist trailed slowly along the glen.
Susan carefully picked her way over the charred timbers of the revetment to stand amongst shrivelled poles of spruce and Alex noticed that she was wearing good walking boots. She stood motionless for several minutes, a slight figure under the tangled wreckage of incinerated forest, her back to Alex, before returning over the slippery revetment. She wiped both hands dry on a tissue before easing into the driving seat. Alex followed her into the car without speaking.
They drove on, past Loch Doilet and between groves of blackened pine into Polloch. Parking the Fiat at the hardstanding next the hutments they began to walk towards the row of destroyed bothies, Alex lifting his arm to acknowledge the logistics ganger looking from an office window. The grey sky drew closer. It began to rain harder. Susan started to cry.
Alex stood still, unsure of how best to react. Susan turned her face into his chest and sobbed, her body shaking, and he folded his arms around her while the rain increased in intensity. Her sobbing lessened and they disengaged. Alex crooked his left arm to encircle her shoulders and they returned to the Fiat. They sat inside, with their hair streaming wetly and rain drumming on the car roof. Susan lowered her nearside window by millimetres and Alex similarly downed his window. They used a towel roll to dry off and for an hour sat silently in the car listening to the rain before Susan switched on the engine, eased the car into gear, and began their return to Strontian. Up to that point they had spoken barely a dozen words to each other. Susan changed this.
“I know who you are, Alex, Noel wrote to me,” she said as she carefully drove the steep inclines. “We will go back now. Please don’t say a word.”