Page 81 of Little Wing
‘That’s where you and I played,’ she said, looking down to the grass.
‘With my pants and a piece of bread,’ he said.
Dougie left Nell to walk back into each bedroom and head downstairs when she was ready. They stood quietly in the sitting room, spent some time looking out of the kitchen window.
‘Did you do much to it, when you bought it?’
Dougie took a moment. ‘To be honest, my dad called me and told me it was for sale – he dealt with everything else, including organizing Christopher MacKay to come and fix whatever needed fixing and paint everything white. Then there’s a company in Stornoway that came and fitted it out for the holiday market. The furniture, the kitchen stuff – even the framed prints.’ Dougie paused. ‘I’m sort of ashamed to say this is probably only the third or fourth time I’ve been in.’
Nell nodded. ‘It’s purely an investment, then?’
‘Yep.’
‘You’re a property magnate?’
Dougie looked at her, caught her half-grin and laughed. ‘A rented one-bed in Camden and a tiny house on the edge of a distant isle. Aye, I’m a property tycoon.’
‘I rent the most boring flat in the world,’ she told him. ‘By choice. You actuallyowna house in this extraordinary place.’
Dougie rooted around in a cupboard. All those years he’d thought of the island as anything but extraordinary. ‘Tea?’ He looked in the fridge though he knew it would be empty. ‘Sorry, no milk.’
‘Happy to have it black,’ said Nell. ‘What’s that?’
He filled the kettle and flicked it on, then came to stand beside her and followed her gaze to the stone building beyond the garden.
‘Storage now, I’d imagine,’ he said. ‘It’s probably older than the house itself. Might even have been another dwelling. It was most likely a loom shed at some point – for weaving tweed.’ He made two mugs of black tea and led on into the garden. The wind had dropped, the sun was out and they sat on the bench. They sipped quietly, enjoying the open moments preceding Nell knowing what she wanted to do next.
‘I just want to sit here for a bit.’
‘That’s fine.’
‘It’s all been so much to take in.’
‘Understandably.’
‘I should have brought my camera. Idiot.’
‘You’re welcome to visit again.’
They looked at each other. She turned her attention back to the house. ‘I lived inthere. I played in this garden. IwishI could remember. I wish I could recallsomething. Anything.’
Dougie was suddenly aware that neither of them had mentioned her mother dying here. He glanced at her. She was still wearing his beanie and her hair peeped out in little flicks. It was rather cute really. She should keep the hat.
‘Who brought you up, Nell? In Colchester?’
‘My mum – well, my mother’s sister.’
‘Your aunt, then.’
Nell thought about it. ‘Mymum.’ She qualified. ‘Flora was my mother – Wendyismy mum.’
‘She’s still alive?’
An image of Wendy came to her mind’s eye and she smiled tenderly. ‘Yes.’
‘But all this – this truth – is new to you?’
Nell nodded and shrugged. ‘I had no idea.’
