The Lighthouse Witches(2)

III

“There you go,” Isla said, placing bowls of steaming hot soup before each of us. I apologized again for the mix-up about our arrival. I’d planned to begin the commission a few weeks from now but decided to head north on the spur of the moment. Or the middle of the night, to be exact. We’d driven the whole way from York to Cromarty, only to find that the ferry was canceled for the day on account of high winds. The girls and I had to endure a very cold and uncomfortable night at a rest stop, sleeping in the car.

“It’s no trouble,” Isla said. “Mr. Roberts is away, of course, but I’m to take care of everything until he returns.”

“Are we sleeping in the car again?” Clover said, wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve.

“In the car?” Isla repeated, looking to me for explanation.

“I’m sure there are plenty of beds for all of us,” I said quickly, and this time I was the one to look to Isla for confirmation. I didn’t want to mention that we’d had to sleep rough.

“Of course there are,” she said. “Shall I give you the grand tour?”

The bothy was small but efficiently organized. A door at the rear of the kitchen led to a scullery with a washing machine and loo. Three bedrooms provided ample sleeping space with freshly made-up beds, and there was a bathroom with a shower cubicle.

We followed Isla to the living room at the front of the house, overlooking the garden.

“Now, you’ll have noticed it’s a bit chilly on the island. So you’re not to worry if you need to turn the heater on.” She nodded at the wood-burning stove. “You’ll find a shed at the side of the bothy stocked with wood. And I’ve put plenty of blankets in the cupboards for you to get cozy in the evenings. Which reminds me. Sometimes the electricity goes off. Nothing to worry about. You know how to manage an oil lantern?”

I followed her gaze to an old-fashioned oil lamp in the windowsill, which I’d assumed was for decoration. I caught Isla rolling her eyes as it became clear that no, I didn’t know how to manage an oil lantern.

“I’ll be sure to leave instructions,” she said with a tight smile.

“Does Mr. Roberts live here?” Saffy asked.

“This is one of his properties,” Isla said. “But no, he doesn’t live here. His main residence is north of here, twenty minutes or so by car.”

“Will you tell him I’ve arrived?” I asked.

“Well, I’d love to,” Isla said brusquely, “but he’s at sea just now.”

“At sea?”

“Aye, for all he has a half dozen houses dotted about the place, he prefers to be out on his boat.”

“I have a boat,” Clover offered.

Isla lifted an eyebrow. “Do ye, now?”

“It’s green with a purple chimney and I play with it in the bath.”

“Well, Mr. Roberts’ boat is a wee bit bigger than that, I’d wager,” Isla said, chuckling. “He tends to sail to Shetland at this time of year.”

“He’s a pirate, then?” Clover said, astonished.

Isla bent down to Clover’s eye level. “No. But I reckon he’d be a good ’un.”

“Do you come from Shetland?” Clover asked, running her fingertips along the stubbly wood-chip wallpaper. Wood chip was her favorite texture.

“No,” Isla said. “I come from Lòn Haven. Where d’you come from?”

“My mummy’s vagina,” Clover said.

I watched Isla’s face drop. “Girls, go have a look at your bedrooms,” I said, ushering Clover quickly away. “Do you know when I’m to discuss the commission with Mr. Roberts?”

“He said to give you this.” Isla reached into her trouser pocket and pulled out a piece of folded paper. I opened it up to find an elaborate and highly abstract sketch, a diagram of sorts. Lots of lines and arrows and circles, like a zodiac.

“What is it?” I said, turning the page to the side. There was no indication which way the sketch was meant to be viewed.

“It’s the mural,” Isla said flatly. “The thing you’re painting inside the Longing.”

I stared at her, wondering if I’d misheard. “This? This is the mural?”

She cocked her head. “Is something the matter?”

“No, no . . .” I said, though I didn’t sound convincing, not even to my own ears. “I suppose I thought there might be more to it than this. Written instructions, perhaps.”

“That’s all Mr. Roberts has given me. He said I’m to fetch whatever equipment you need to do the job. So perhaps you can write me a list of whatever you require and I’ll get onto it in the morning.”

Still dumbfounded by the sketch, I said I would, but that I’d need to see inside the Longing first.

“Ah, now that would be an idea,” she said, straightening a lampshade. “How about I show you just now?”

Outside, harsh winds buffeted us on the rocks, and I saw movement on the far reaches of the island. Seals, Isla told us. I was astonished at how close they were to the bothy, but she told me they were shy creatures, despite their size. They’d not bother us. I watched them slip off the stones into the black water, their shape in the dark almost human.