reception desk who had a table to herself just inside the service door, and there were only two others at breakfast this morning.’
‘That’s what I mean. The place is never more than one-fifth full, I would say.’
The track they were following dipped to a little, fast-running river and a bridge. Near the bridge and high above the river-gorge was the pub. It was a slate-roofed, long, low building covered with white-washed rough-cast and it had a stone wall along one side of its yard with a gap in it to give access to a small building of quarried stone which was half woodshed and half earth-closet.
Right across the front of the pub itself there was a long board between the downstair and upstair windows which bore in very large letters executed by an unpractised hand the information that the building was the Great Skua tavern and general stores. There were two front doors, one leading into the bar and the other into the shop. Sebastian pushed open the former and held it for the others.
‘Expect we’re too early for drinks,’ he said. ‘It’s only a quarter past ten.’
‘No, that’s all right,’ said the man. ‘No nonsense like permitted hours on Great Skua. Now, then, sit down. What will you have? Not that there’s any real choice. It’s beer or whisky and there won’t be any ice for the whisky, so it’s no good asking for Scotch on the rocks, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh, beer for me,’ said Sebastian, ‘and a lemonade shandy, if they can do one, for my sister.’ When they had finished their drinks, he added, ‘My round now. Same again for everybody?’
‘Not for me, thanks,’ said the man. ‘Got to be getting back. Glad to have met you. Why don’t you drop in at the farm some time? Come and have some tea. Any relations of Eliza Chayleigh are welcome. She used to be called Eliza Lovelaine until she inherited old Miss Chayleigh’s property. The old lady made her change her name as a condition of being made the heiress.’
‘Well!’ said Margaret to her brother as they took their way north-westward again. ‘What do you make of that!’
‘Make of what?’ asked Sebastian. ‘What on earth made him give us an invitation to tea at the farm? It would be frightful. I don’t know the first thing about pigs and mangold-wurzels.’
‘Oh, Seb, don’t you know what that man is? That must be his reason for inviting us. He knew us when we mentioned Aunt Eliza.’
‘Oh, Lord! Not Ransome?’
‘I’m sure of it. There’s the smallholding and the farm, and he said that the older man on the boat with him was his father and he spoke of Aunt Eliza as his mother. I’m dying to know more about him.’
‘Why on earth?’
‘Oh, I don’t know, except that I liked him. Didn’t you?’
‘I didn’t have much to do with him. He seemed all right, but he talked mostly to you.’
‘I wonder what he really thinks of his life?’
‘Goodness knows, and I couldn’t be less interested.’
‘Well, where do you think he fits in? And how do you think he reacts to Aunt Eliza? He said he never goes up to the hotel.’
‘That could mean anything or nothing. Aunt Eliza must be kept pretty busy and I expect this chap is busy, too, if he runs that big kitchen garden which goes with the cottage and helps the farmer as well.’
‘He seems fairly well-educated, doesn’t he?’
‘I should think he went to an agricultural college and then she let him have the cottage and the smallholding. She’d feel bound to do something for him, and the farmer would, if he’s his father, you know.’
‘It might come as a big jolt to The Tutor to find that Aunt Eliza seems to have taken enough interest in him to have him trained and to find him a job on the island. I wish we knew more about it all. Are we going to tell The Tutor we’ve met him?’
‘Yes, but not that you like him. We must mention the meeting itself because he may find out about it for himself if we don’t and that might prove embarrassing.’
‘Do we go down and watch the boat come in? I’d like to get a first sight of Aunt Eliza.’
‘We shouldn’t know which person
‘If we eat them now we’ll be hungry before we get back to the hotel.’
‘I’m hungry now,’ said Sebastian. ‘There is a mass of granite rock sticking up there ahead of us. Let’s find a flat bit and sit and stodge. We can then get another drink at the pub on our way back.’
‘Aren’t we going to explore the rest of the island?’
‘Yes, when we are refreshed and “Richard is himself again”. It’s going to be hot this afternoon, though.’
The rest of the trackway skirted a small disused airfield and led out to the north-west lighthouse. Here, in spite of the warmth of the afternoon, the wind was strong, so that, instead of following a cliff path which, they could see, would take them southwards along the rocky coast which formed the west side of the island, they skirted its tip and took the more sheltered but very rough path on the east cliff, stopping here and there to rest. The turf was close, dry and springy and the day was hot. The east cliffs were high and steep, but were less formidable than those on the Atlantic side of the island, and the path they were following dipped occasionally into boggy hollows. One or two small streams made their way down to the sea, but were summer-thin and easily forded and their waterfalls were pleasant but not spectacular.
The brother and sister talked little and were often apart as one or the other found something of interest in the dips and hollows or scrambled up a goat-track among the bracken to reach a view-point which disclosed a stretch of the coast.
Sebastian found what he thought were some primitive hut-circles. Margaret gathered wild flowers. Both stopped to watch sea-birds and saw what they thought must be seals lying out among the flat rocks.
Beyond the little streams the path rose again, but soon descended to, and wandered across, a large and beautiful combe which ran down to the sea. This they explored, and found another small beach with a cave which penetrated far into the cliff.
They marked it for future exploration and then re-traced their steps, since there was no way round the next headland from the shore. When they regained their cliff path they soon found a deviation from it which led across to the farm, the buildings of which stood out prominently on the grassy plateau.
‘We don’t want the farm or that chap again,’ said Sebastian. ‘Let’s go this way.’ Another deviation, almost overgrown with bracken, led up to a hillock on which was perched another lighthouse, but this was an eighteenth century building long out of use. Sebastian, who tried it (tentatively at first then more determinedly), found the door in the surrounding wall had been made fast.
‘It probably isn’t very safe, anyway,’ he said, surveying the structure over the top of the wall which, by taking advantage of his height, he found himself able to do. He was peering over when a thickset, middle-aged man came up to watch him.
‘You don’t want to bother with that there,’ he said. ‘No admittance. That’s a very dangerous building. Try one on’t’other side the island. Just as good.
‘Thanks. We couldn’t climb over, anyway,’ said Sebastian. The man nodded and walked off in the direction of the farm. ‘That’s the bloke who was on the little boat when we came over,’ he added to his sister. They returned to their path, but Margaret looked back once or twice at the lighthouse.
‘There’s that other old one on the other side of the island,’ she said. ‘I spotted it when we came out of the pub. He mentioned it, didn’t he? They might even open it up to the bird-watchers. There must be thousands of sea-birds on those western cliffs, and from the lamp-room gallery there ought to be very good views of the rest of the island.’
‘Oh, well, we’ll certainly mark it for future reference if we find we can get inside the tower, but I expect that’s locked up, too,’ said Sebastian. ‘If they’ve had to build the two new ones, these ancient structures may never be opened to the public. By the way, I wonder what The Tutor has done with himself all day?’
‘Written to Boobie, I expect, or found himself some sheltered spot in which to read and snooze. Oh, no, he won’t, though, because surely Aunt Eliza is back by now?’
