The Silver Bough (10 page)

A
SHLEY SLEPT THROUGH
it all: earthquake, landslide, sunrise, voices outside, the pounding on her door. She woke at last when she felt someone prodding at her shoulder to the accompaniment of a soft, childish voice repeating, “It’s time to get up. Time to get up, Cousin Ashley.”

She rolled over. Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, she saw a little girl, brown hair pulled into tight pigtails, staring solemnly at her, and she smiled, feeling the sides of her mouth crack with the effort. “Good morning, Jade,” she said, and heard the croak in her voice. “What time is it?”

“It’s gone ten!”

“In the morning?”

“Of course in the morning! Can’t you see the sun?”

She looked. Even though the curtains were drawn, sunlight rippled like water on the rough white plaster of the ceiling. She sat up, stretching her arms above her head as she yawned. “Mmm. Well, I am on vacation, you know. If I was at home I might sleep till noon.”

“But it’s
such
a beautiful day, it’s a sin, that’s what my granny would say, a sin to waste the best part of the day by sleeping. My granny used to live here, you know,” Jade confided, leaning against the bed.

“Here”—it was all coming back to her now—was a tiny, two-room cottage located a short distance behind the house where Jade and her family lived, and which Ashley had been told she was to treat as her own home for as long as she liked.

“I didn’t know your granny lived here. I thought your folks just rented it out.”

“Yes, it’s a holiday house now, since Granny died. Passed,” Jade corrected herself. “My granny passed last year.”

The phrase made her envision an old lady in a long nightgown hovering in the sky above the house like an elderly angel. “So did mine.”

Jade’s brow knitted. “But did we have the same granny?”

“Oh, no. My grandmother was…” she paused to work it out. “She would have been your granny’s sister-in-law. I think.” More details of the night before came back to her—arriving in the rain, the friendly chaos of the Walkers’ house, the noisy family dinner, how remote everything had seemed through waves of tiredness, until Shona had taken her, beneath an umbrella, across the path behind their house to this one, Graeme following behind with her luggage. “Our kids get up awfully early,” he’d said. “You’ll get more rest over here.”

Shona had shown her where everything was, how to work the shower and the electric heaters, and told her that she’d made sure there were a few basic food supplies in the kitchen. “But come over for breakfast with us in the morning if you like, or anytime you need anything. Back door’s always open.”

Remembering, she fixed the little girl with a look. “How did you get in? I locked the door.”

“I know where Granny kept a spare key. It was still there.”

“You shouldn’t let yourself into somebody else’s house.”

Jade was unimpressed. “It’s
our
house. It belongs to the Walkers, and I’m a Walker.”

“I know, but when somebody else is staying here—when your parents rent it out to someone, you don’t let yourself in then, do you?”

She shook her head.

“Well, then.”

“But you’re
family.
”

Ashley laughed. She liked having been accepted, even absorbed, so quickly into this friendly Scottish clan, but it looked like there might be a few drawbacks. “Even family members deserve some privacy!”

Jade stared as if this concept made no sense. Ashley put out her hand, palm flat and facing up. “Give me the key.”

The small mouth set mutinously.

“Or I can tell your mom, and you can give it to her.”

Jade sighed and handed over a small, tarnished key.

“Thank you.”

“Aren’t you
ever
getting up? I had breakfast ages ago, but Mum’s got some rolls in the oven, and she says you can have whatever you want.”

“Go and tell her thank you, and I’ll be over in a few minutes.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“But I don’t want you to. I’d rather get dressed by myself. Remember what I said about privacy? Run along, now.” She tried to sound friendly but stern, someone not to be argued with, and it seemed to work.

Jade sighed heavily and moved away from the bed at last, head and shoulders drooping like a cartoon indicating rejection as she left the room. When she heard the door to the outside shut, Ashley got up. She showered, dressed, and applied a minimum of makeup. Her hair would just have to dry naturally because she couldn’t find a hair dryer anywhere; she hadn’t brought her own because she’d been warned that electrical goods needed a transformer to work on British current, and it had seemed too complicated. She regretted it now, faced with the prospect of living with frizzy hair, but maybe Shona could lend her one.

She stepped outside into bright sunshine. For a moment the light was dazzling, and then the view took her breath away.

It had been dark on her arrival, and although she’d been aware of being driven up a sloping incline, she hadn’t guessed that her cousin’s house—an unimposing modern bungalow—would command such a magnificent vista. She looked out at the gentle curve of the harbor, the sapphire glitter of the water, the quaintness of the small fishing boats and sailboats resting at anchor. The town of Appleton was contained within the natural boundaries created by the sea and the steep curve of the farther hills. It looked like a doll’s town by comparison with the immense modern sprawls of the cities she was used to—Houston, Dallas, Los Angeles. It was like nowhere she’d ever been, and she was utterly charmed by it.

She took in a deep breath of the cool, fresh air, tangy with the smell of the sea and something faintly chemical she thought might be coal, and strode down the path to the back door of the bigger house. When she knocked, there was a volley of high, excited barks and several voices called out at once, scolding the dog and inviting her in.

The kitchen was only slightly less crowded than it had been the night before with the two boys missing. The dog, a Jack Russell terrier called Tia, rushed forward to give her a welcoming wag and sniff before retiring to her basket by the stove.

“Good morning,” said Shona. “I hope you slept well?”

“Yes, thanks,” she murmured, once again made shy by the unexpectedly powerful surge of affectionate recognition she felt for someone she’d only just met. As soon as she’d set eyes on Shona she’d known her. It wasn’t only that in the shape of her face and her eyes she bore a striking resemblance to pictures of Phemie as a young woman; when she smiled, and the hidden dimple flashed below the left side of her mouth, she reminded Ashley of her father.

“Coffee or tea?”

“No thanks.”

“Milk? Juice? There’s orange or apple.”

“Orange juice would be nice, thanks.”

“I’ll get it,” said Jade. She’d been curled on her father’s lap, and scrambled to her feet. Ashley noticed that Graeme was dressed in his postman’s uniform, complete with cap.

“Are you through with your round already?”

“Nothing to deliver,” he said, reaching to take off his cap. “I was just telling my girls the news. We’re cut off. Appleton’s been cut off by road.”

She saw a giant hand equipped with a small, sharp pruning knife, lopping off a skinny, apple-bearing bough. “What do you mean?”

“There was an earthquake—”

“Maybe you felt it in the night?” said Shona. “Tia certainly did—she got into bed with us!”

“Not a big one, just a tremor, down on the sea bottom, but add that to all the rain we’ve been having, and there was a landslide, a big one. The road’s completely blocked.”

She remembered that final hairpin bend on the bus journey, the high, jagged rocks with the split in them, water spilling down the side. “But there must be another…?”

“Nope. Only one way in and out of this town, apart from the sea road. I think that’s what the Vikings called it. In the old days it was more usual to travel by sea than land around here, and I reckon that’s what we’ll have to do again.”

“Surely it won’t take them long to clear the road,” said Shona.

“Oh, no? You haven’t seen it. There’s a boulder the size of a house blocking the way. I don’t even want to think about what it’s done to the road beneath. It won’t be easy or quick to repair. Just moving the blockage is going to take weeks with heavy equipment. An awful spot to try to maneuver in, on a slope and that tight bend…dynamite could even make it worse, bring down more of the hillside.” He shook his head. “I reckon we’ll have to find alternatives to road travel for two or three months, minimum. They’ll be flying in the mail, come Monday—or at least by Tuesday.”

“So there’s an airport.”

He grinned. “There’s an old airfield, used during the war, which has clearance for use by small private planes. Maybe some bright spark will set up a regular service between here and the mainland. Next stop, Appleton International Airport!”

“Dream on,” said Shona. “Nobody outside will care; they weren’t that bothered to come here when the road was open! The dozen or so folks who could afford airfare out at this end won’t make it economically viable.”

“It’s lucky you came on the bus yesterday, Ashley,” said Jade, setting a small, very full glass of orange juice carefully down on the table in front of her.

“Lucky?” said Shona, raising her eyebrows. “I don’t know if she’ll think it’s so lucky if she can’t get away.”

“I don’t want to get away. I just got here.” She took a small, cautious sip of the juice, which tasted unpleasantly sharp contrasted with the toothpaste flavor still on her tongue.

“Let’s hope you go on happy here. What would you like for breakfast? Eggs, bacon, sausage…”

“Fried tomatoes, fried mushrooms, baked beans,” Jade chipped in.

The thought of a plateful of cooked food was amazingly unappetizing. It always took her stomach a while to wake up. “No thanks, I don’t,” she began, but something in Shona’s look recalled her mother’s ardent belief in the importance of breakfast, and she modified what she’d been about to say. “I don’t want a big meal. I think my body hasn’t adjusted to the time difference yet. Just a piece of toast, or…do I smell fresh bread?”

Shona gave a gasp, and rushed across to the stove. “I nearly forgot! Whew, they’re all right. Just! When Graeme came in, I forgot I’d put the rolls in. Jade, love, would you fetch the butter, and some jam?”

Graeme decided he could do with a midmorning snack, and put the kettle on. “Sure you won’t have a cuppa, Ashley? There’s coffee, tea, or some kind of herbal brew Shona likes.”

“No thanks.” She sat breaking a crispy roll into bits, buttering the pieces, and slowly munching her way through it as she listened. Jade disappeared with a buttered roll in one hand.

“If it really is going to take months to clear the road, it’s the end of the town,” said Shona flatly.

“Ach, we’ll manage. It might even do us good,” said Graeme. After spending only a few hours in his company, Ashley could tell he was the sort of natural optimist who would always see the silver lining. “We’ve already got the air ambulance, for emergencies, and if the post’s going to be brought in and out by air, there’s the potential for a few paying passengers every day as well. But a ferry’s the obvious solution, for goods deliveries and for passengers. In fact, it could be the making of this town—put us back on the tourist map good and proper.”

Shona sighed. “It’s the last nail in the coffin.” She turned to Ashley and explained. “This town has been dying by inches for years; for decades, really. With the road gone, it’s like cutting off the intravenous drip, our last link to life. Without visitors, even as few as they are now, the economy is dead.” She turned back to her husband. “And if we
do
get a ferry, what’s betting the council decides it’s not worth the expense of repairing the road? Or it takes them five years to plan and fund and build a road that will meet updated safety standards, by which time this will be a ghost town.”

It was obviously an old disagreement. As they went on rehearsing it, Ashley understood they saw their beloved home differently. To Graeme, Appleton’s strength lay in its uniqueness, its isolation, its old-fashioned indifference to the modern world—this was what had drawn him from the big city to become a small-town postman, father, and local historian. To Shona, who had grown up in the town, seen many schemes and small businesses begin in hope and collapse in failure, watched her friends move away in search of jobs and better opportunities, its size, antiquated attitudes, and isolation—attractive though they might be to some—were the symptoms of a fatal disease.