Blue Lightning

for some reason the machine in the flat wasn’t working.’

‘This wasn’t on the computer. It was a draft for a paper. Handwritten.’ Angela directed the answer at Maurice, but her voice was pitched loudly enough for them all to hear the words. Listening, Jane was surprised by the image of Angela writing by hand. She never did, except perhaps her field notes when no other form of taking a record was possible. The warden was beguiled by technology. She even completed the evening log of birds seen with the aid of a laptop. ‘It’s missing,’ Angela went on. ‘Someone must have taken it.’ She looked around the room, took in the four visitors sitting at their own table and her voice was even louder. ‘Someone must have taken it.’

Chapter Three

Perez had told Fran exactly what to expect of his parents’ house. He’d described the kitchen with its view down to the South Harbour, the Rayburn with the rack above for drying clothes in the winter, the oilskin tablecloth, green with a pattern of small grey leaves, his mother’s watercolours hanging on the wall. He’d talked about his childhood there, then listened to her tales of growing up in London; the intimate conversations part of the ritual of a developing relationship, absolutely tedious to any outsider.

‘Mother will probably hide all her pictures away,’ Perez had said. ‘She’ll be embarrassed for a professional artist to see them.’

And Fran supposed that she was a professional artist now. People commissioned her paintings and they were shown in galleries. She was glad that Mary had left her own work on the walls. The pictures were very small and delicate, not Fran’s style at all, but interesting because they showed the small details of everyday Fair Isle life that it would be easy to miss. There was a piece of broken wall, with a few wisps of sheep’s wool snagged on one corner, a sketch of one grave in the cemetery. Fran looked at that more closely, but the headstone had been drawn from the side so even if the model had had an inscription it would have been impossible to read from this angle. Alongside Mary’s paintings of the Isle there were vibrant prints and posters reflecting the Perez family’s Spanish heritage. Legend had it that Jimmy’s ancestor had been washed ashore from a shipwrecked Armada ship, El Gran Grifon. It was probably true. The sixteenth-century shipwreck was certainly there, under the water for divers to explore, and how else was it possible to explain the strange name and the Mediterranean colouring of James Perez and his son?

Because the reality of the croft was so close to what she’d imagined, but not exactly the same – it was smaller somehow, more cramped – Fran felt rather that she’d wandered into a parallel universe. She sat at the table listening to Mary and James and it was as if she was an extra on a film set, disconnected, not involved in the main action.

Is this how it’ll always be here? I’ll never quite belong.

It hadn’t been discussed recently, but Fran thought Perez might want to move back here one day. She loved the idea of that, the drama of being in one of the most remote places in the UK, of continuing the tradition of a family that went back to the sixteenth century. Now she wasn’t sure how that would work out in reality.

Mary was talking about the wedding plans. Her son and this Englishwoman would be married the following May and she assumed Fran would be excited, eager to share her ideas for the day. But Fran had been married before. She had a daughter, Cassie, who was spending this week with her father in his big house in Brae. Fran wanted to be married to Jimmy Perez but she couldn’t get worked up about the details of the show. She hadn’t expected Mary to be the sort of woman to fuss over flowers, invitations and whether she would need a hat. Mary had come to Fair Isle as the community nurse and since her marriage had shared all the work on the croft. She was a tough and practical woman. But Jimmy was her only son and perhaps she thought it would please Fran if she showed she was interested in their big day. It seemed to Fran that the older woman very much wanted to be friends with her new daughter-in-law.

‘We thought we’d be married in Lerwick,’ Fran said. ‘A quiet civil ceremony. It’s the second time for both of us, after all. Then a party after for family and friends.’

James had looked up at that. ‘You’ll need something here too. For the folks who can’t get out to the mainland. And your family will want to see the Isle. You’ll need a hame-farin’. This is Jimmy’s home.’

‘Of course,’ Fran said, though it had never crossed her mind that they would have to bring the circus into Fair Isle. She imagined her parents having to endure the plane ride or the boat. And could she really allow Cassie to face that danger too? And if there were to be a celebration here she’d have to invite some of her close London friends. They wouldn’t want to be left out. What would they make of it? Where would they stay?

‘We were thinking we’d have a bit of a party this week to celebrate your engagement,’ Mary said.

‘That’ll be fun. But I wouldn’t want to put you to any trouble.’ Fran looked at Perez for support. He had been completely silent throughout this exchange. He gave a little shrug and Fran understood that the arrangements would already have been completed. Nothing they said would change things now.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t have it here.’ Mary smiled. ‘There’s no room in the house. You couldn’t have a proper Fair Isle party without some music, a bit of a dance. I thought we’d book the field centre. There’s a good space in the dining room for dancing and Jane would do the food for us.’

‘Jane?’ Fran thought it was safest to focus on the detail.

‘She works in the centre kitchen. She’s a grand cook.’

‘Fine,’ Fran said. What else was there to say? Oh, Jimmy, she thought. I’m really not sure I could live here, not even with you. She turned to his mother. ‘When were you thinking of holding the party?’

‘I’ve booked the field centre for tomorrow.’ Then in a rush: ‘Only tentatively, of course. I wanted to ask you first.’

‘Fine,’ Fran said again. Mentally gritting her teeth.

After lunch she felt as if she’d go crazy if she stayed inside any longer. She’d helped Mary to wash up and afterwards they’d taken coffee into the living room, where a big window looked south over low fields to the water. Jimmy’s father was a lay preacher for the kirk and had disappeared into the small bedroom they used as an office to prepare Sunday’s sermon. The three of them sat for a moment in silence, mesmerized by the huge waves that rolled across the south harbour and smashed into the rocks. It had stopped raining, but Fran thought the gale was even stronger. The noise of it penetrated the thick walls of the house, a constant whining that stretched her nerves, made her even more tense than she would have been anyway. Just outside the window a herring gull was struggling to make headway against the wind; Fran was reminded of the plane and felt a little sick. She reached out to take her cup and drink the last of her coffee, thinking: What’s wrong with Jimmy? He’s hardly said anything since we arrived. Does he regret his decision not to come back when he had that chance? We’d just met then. Does he blame me? Does he want to come home?

Perez got to his feet and stretched out his hand to pull Fran up too. ‘Come on. Let’s go for a walk. I want to show you the island.’

‘Are you mad?’ Mary said. ‘Why would you go out in this weather?’

‘We’ll go up to the North Light, talk to Jane about the catering for tomorrow.’ A grin to show he knew there was no need, his mother would have done that already. ‘Besides, the forecast is even worse from tonight. If we don’t get out today we might not have the chance.’

They stood by the kitchen door to put on boots and waterproof jackets. It was sheltered there but she could still feel the taste of salt on her lips; when they moved away from the house a gust of wind took her breath away and almost blew her off her feet. Perez laughed and put his arm around her.

They walked north and Perez pointed out the places that meant the most to him: ‘That’s where Ingrid and Jerry used to live. I babysat their three lasses occasionally though I wasn’t much older than they were. What a dance they led me! The wind turbine provides all the power for the island now. In my day every croft had its own generator. You could hear the sound of them starting when dusk fell. That place over on the bank is Myers Jimmy’s house. There’s Margo on her way back from the post office.’

They called in to the shop to buy chocolate and a pile of postcards for Fran to send to her family in the south – when the weather allowed for post to go. The talk there was all about the storm. The middle-aged woman in her hand-knitted cardigan leaned across the till. ‘Any news on the boat, Jimmy?’ And when he shook his head: ‘I can’t