I’d no excuse for slipping off to the boatie shore for bait, or to the lean-to for reddin’ the lines, not when the Lily Maud wasn’t going out. And with winter nearly upon us, there was only so much staying away that could be done when the wind sliced its way through layers of wool. So cold, lambsie, you canna imagine, your fingers and toes bloodless white. And so every day when school was done, I’d be off home, walking with Liza and Elspet, envying them the friendly fireplace waiting for them at home.

Ours had become Granda’s.

~

He held out his great paw, the fingers poking from the bandage a funny colour, like rotted weed. His face was sour as he waved the injured hand about. Hurry yourself, quinie, hash, hash.

But I was slow at unwinding the muslin strapping that Ma had applied so carefully, and it didn’t help when he sucked in his noisy breath every time I tugged at his skin. Finally, when I had a foot or more of bandage coiled around my own fingers, I could see that the remaining piece was stubborn, gluey on the wound.

He was impatient, ready to pull it free with his other hand. Anyone could see that would rip away the beginnings of a healing skin and do more harm than good. And it would hurt. He was surprised when I raised my hand to stop him, and he drew back. It made me a little braver. I brought a bowl of warm water to soak off the bandage, and all the while Granda was giving me the eye. He grunted when I was done cleaning and drying, he waved me away as though I was something small and bothersome.

Later, when I sat with my knitting at the table, he spoke.

What nonsense did ye be learnin’ away at school today, then?

It took me a moment, lambsie, to realise that Granda was not just grumbling at the world at large again. He was asking me a question. Inviting me to speak. I looked at him warily.

What cat caught your tongue an’ run away with it, quinie?

We had Dictation …

He made a noise like a snorting horse.

… an’ Musical Drill …

Musical Drill! Ye’re kept from proper work for that! Pah! I give no leave for quinies to be bletherin’ about with Musical Drill.

Now, I knew it was the law that put me in school, not Granda’s blessing, but I did not say it. He simmered down soon enough, muttering at the fire, glancing at me by and by.

An’ what do they learn ye at school about the ways of the sea?

I opened my mouth to tell Granda that it was only the lads who got to learn Astronomy and Seamanship from Mr McCrindle and the sea didn’t seem to concern Miss Birnie overmuch. But then I closed it again and shook my head.