Page 75 of Little Wing
‘Where to?’
‘Back over the bridge to Tarbert, then the road west.’
Nell looked at Sophia sitting beside her, and Sophia looked at her. ‘Nurse Keaton – I have to tell you I’m so nervous. I came only for facts – I never expected to feel.’
‘You know I’m retired? You can just call me Sophia.’
‘I know,’ said Nell, slowly. ‘But I’d rather not.’
And Sophia nodded. It was a way for Nell to feel closer to Flora. And Sophia liked it. It also reminded her of a career she’d loved, a position within the community she’d cherished – as respected as the policeman, the minister, the doctor. She still couldn’t quite believe this was Nell. All grown up. And here.
‘I didn’t sleep,’ Nell told her. ‘I’ve barely slept since Sunday.’
‘We don’t have to do this today – you can rest. We can meet tomorrow?’ Sophia said. ‘When do you leave?’
But Nell put the key in the ignition and fastened her seat belt. ‘I haven’t booked a ticket home,’ she said. ‘It didn’t feel right to do so.’
Sophia nodded approvingly and then laughed. ‘Your boss must be understanding, then?’
‘I rarely take any leave.’ Nell thought of the Chaffinch. It was just after nine o’clock. They’d be in full swing. The builders would be first in for their takeaway teas and their Danny chats. Debbie would be overseeing the salads. AJ would be wiping the coffee machine. Libby would be folding the paper napkins very carefully, very slowly. Alex and Sanjay would be bickering amiably while constructing sandwiches. And Rachel would be carrying the trays of brownies and millionaire’s shortbreads with her shaky hands that made everyone hold their breath. ‘I’ve never really felt the need,’ Nell qualified. ‘I’m part of the furniture now.’
‘What is it that you do?’ Sophia asked, as if she’d be telling Flora oh, you must be so proud of your daughter. ‘Tell me everything.’
‘You’ll tell me which direction to take?’
‘Oh my goodness,’ Sophia said. ‘Stitching wounds, delivering babies, inoculating children, plastering broken bones, treating the elderly, the infirm, the insane – all that I can do. But I can’t give careers advice.’
‘I meant,’ said Nell, starting the engine and pulling away from Nurse Keaton’s house, ‘the directions to the house where I was born.’
Though she didn’t know the precise location of Iain Buchanan’s old house, Nell liked it that she did have a feel for the roads now, the etiquette of passing places and giving a smooth wide berth to sheep and cattle. She drove at a speed that was confident and yet allowed ample time to appreciate the views and details both distant and close. Sophia commented that she drove like a local. Nell told her that she didn’t actually think she’d ever driven north of Peterborough.
‘Flora had a bicycle,’ Sophia said. ‘She was still cycling into Tarbert eight months pregnant – and later, she’d often cycle in with you in a basket seat behind her. When you were really wee, you’d be in a pouch and she’d walk you for miles. She developed this thing for fresh air. When she was doing her painting, if the weather was nice, you’d be happy as a lark in a playpen outside that she made out of old sheep hurdles.’
Nell breathed deeply. Flora was coming to life and she wasn’t like Wendy and she wasn’t like Marjorie. And though Nell wanted to ask but how did she die, why did she die, when did she die – she swerved away from asking, not wanting the stories to end.
‘Did she – did Flora – ever mention who my father was?’
And Sophia thought that Nell was going to hear so many fundamental truths that to be spare with details would be prudent. ‘Yes,’ she told her. ‘But I don’t know his name. I do remember her saying he was dead handsome. It was one night. It was her first time. I do know that he emigrated.’
‘Where to?’
‘Off the face of the earth,’ Sophia said.
Nell absorbed this. ‘A lost mother and a missing father,’ she said quietly.
Sophia looked at her. ‘Seems to me that Flora and Wendy were excellent mother-fathers,’ she said. ‘Look at you, Nell –look at you.’
They drove on.
‘Luskentyre,’ said Nell, nodding at the sign. ‘I went there. The weather was shit and I was despairing a bit by then.’
‘That’s our second stop,’ said Sophia. ‘Keep going to Seilebost. Another mile or so. We’re so nearly there, Nell.’
Nell’s heart was starting to pound, she needed to keep calm. ‘Nurse Keaton – how did you end up here, from Leeds?’
‘I wanted to join the best nurses in the world,’ Sophia told her. ‘Almost forty years before the creation of the NHS, the Highlands and Islands Medical Service provided district nurses for the islands of the Outer Hebrides. These nurses were so rigorously trained, so resourceful and adaptable, they were respected the world over. And I was dead sick of redbrick and grime and my dad was a drunk and my mam had died and I won a place at the Queen’s Institute of District Nursing in Edinburgh.’
‘And you’ve been here ever since?’
