Micheal blushed, looked away and coughed awkwardly. Even though he was the biggest, strongest and often loudest of the four young men, a peculiar shyness came over him whenever conversation turned to the topic of girls.
‘Er, aye, Bethany, she’s a pretty wee thing, she is,’ he muttered, still avoiding eye contact with William, who chuckled with gentle mirth at this.
‘Well as I was trying tae say, lasses aside, we’ll always ha’ each other – you an’ me, an’ Pauly an’ Andy. The best friends that e’er were, are we no’? We’ve gone through hell, but still we’re like brothers, ne’er tae be parted.’
William grinned, his face glowing with fraternal love, and threw his arm around Michael’s shoulder, pulling the big man in for a quick, tight hug.
‘Aye,’ Michael grunted, a sudden and inexplicable darkness coming abruptly over him. ‘Like brothers … ne’er tae be parted.’
11
WILLIAM
August 1852. A forest in Aberdeenshire, Scotland
William leaned back against the rough-barked trunk of the sprawling oak tree, delighting in the dappled midday sunlight that fell through the latticework of leaves, and then, content and relaxed, he turned a page of his novel. Any time he opened a book, an inner cavern of his mind lit up with a million candle flames, stretching its borders of wonder to beyond the infinite.
It had been this way ever from the time, as a boy, he had been taught to read by Sir MacTaggart’s resident tutor. Since those days he had had an insatiable appetite for stories, for adventure, for tales of far-off lands populated by dashing heroes and dastardly villains, the likes of which he had resigned himself to never seeing or experiencing in person out here in the stretched-out days of this pastoral existence. Yet in this too he was content; despite the thirteen years that had passed, he had not forgotten the horrors and despair of his life as a chimney sweep, and the suffering that had seemed to be an inescapable part of existence in that phase of his life now appeared even more stark in its harshness when measured against the yardstick of his current lifestyle.
He fingered the corner of the page he was reading with eager digits; a quick and energetic youth, he verged on the hyperactive, and in his eager and convivial manner of speech he exchanged banter with both stranger and friend with equal ease. He exhibited a penchant for physical activity, and especially took great joy in the exquisite splendour of nature and the outdoors. And everything he did, he threw every ounce of himself into; it was perhaps his greatest weakness as well as his greatest strength, for he had no concept of moderation. No, for William, in all things he did, it was all or nothing. Now, engrossed utterly in his novel, he was too entranced by the story and characters to notice the horse padding through the carpet of leaves near him.
‘William?’
‘Aurora!’ he blurted out, rising quickly and awkwardly to his feet. It came of something of a shock to see her again; since they had first met hardly a moment had passed in which she had not been running through his thoughts. The moment their eyes met was beyond surreal, and for a moment – a single, precious moment – it was as if the sands of time froze, taking a break from their ceaseless onward drive, the grains hovering weightlessly in the hourglass. ‘I’m sorry, I didnae see you, I was just reading a novel, see … I brought some ay mine fir you tae look at, like, seein’ as yer auld master ay letters—’
‘Thank you William!’ she exclaimed before he could finish, her voice infused with grateful delight. As always when she was out riding on her own, she wore her wavy hair loose about her shoulders, something that she could not do at home, or in public. Today she was dressed in tan riding gloves, a rich navy-blue riding habit, gleaming black boots and an elaborately constructed riding that, glamorously accessorised with peacock feathers. ‘You are most considerate!’ she continued. ‘But before you show me those lovely books, let’s ride upstream to the waterfall. I’ve brought some food, and wine too. We can have a picnic!’
‘The waterfall? Where’s tha’ then?’
Cheeky mischief sparkled in Aurora’s eyes, and there was a playful deepening of her dimples as she spoke.
‘It appears that I have a deeper knowledge than yourself of the secret spots of this forest, William. Disappointing, very disappointing!’
‘Ohhh, the waterfall,’ William retorted with a swift grin, ‘an’ by that you mean tha’ spot where water tumbles from the heights o’er the rocks down intae a pool below? Ay course I know the place! I just call it, the fall-water, see?’
Aurora chortled as she wheeled her horse around.
‘Oh, so you do know of the place then, William? Well then, why don’t you be a good gentleman and lead me there?’
William jumped to his feet and dusted himself off. He was dressed in a plain, rough-spun suit of grey and brown, and sported an oversized cloth cap on his head. A few strands of his hair fell across his eyes as he stood up, and he quickly brushed them aside, his jovial face glowing with barely contained excitement all the while.
‘I know every spot in this forest, every one! But I wouldnae want tae appear a braggart, see, so I’ll give you the honour ay leading me tae the waterfall. How does tha’ sound?’
Aurora rolled her golden eyes melodramatically before flashing William another of her dazzling smiles.
‘Very well William, I’ll lead. Come on then!’
After around an hour of riding, throughout the course of which William and Aurora chatted with a growing sense of mutual attraction, they arrived at the waterfall. William, however, could bask in no awe from the beauty of the place; he found himself too lost
