Chapter Seven

‘Eff, have you seen Jayne?’

Effie looked up from the quern; she was sitting on the three-legged stool in the plot, grinding down the oats and feeling grateful for the physical exertion. She needed to vent. Flora was leaning on the other side of the wall, her shirt sleeves rolled up and her hair twisted in a messy topknot. Even hot, she looked beautiful, though she did look bothered. ‘You’re still here? I thought you’d gone back.’

‘I’m heading back shortly but I need to talk to Jayne before I go and she’s not home.’

Effie had to think for a moment. She had passed Jayne on the Street earlier and the woman had been heading towards the jetty. ‘Did you try the fishing rocks, past the featherstore? She often likes to sit there at this time.’

Flora arched an eyebrow. They both knew Jayne avoided being at home with her husband as much as she could. Norman Ferguson was handsome and dynamic but he had an ugly temper and ready fists, and many was the time the neighbours had had to run in to save Jayne when voices became raised. The irony was, she had the gentlest nature. Effie thought it was his wife’s meek goodness, contrasting his own black soul, that drove Norman to such rage.

‘Ah,’ Flora nodded. ‘Want to come with me?’

Effie looked back up at the cottage. Her father, like their neighbours, was inside in the shade, weaving at the loom. The morning’s sharp sun had grown steadily more sultry through the afternoon, the air growing so still and heavy the birds almost dropped. At this time of day, the front of the cottages were exposed to the full blast of the afternoon sun and the shadow from the wall stopped a full foot short of where she sat, providing no relief at all. Effie realized she was sweating, her cheeks red, her long fair hair worn in loose plaits that aired her neck. After coming back from cleaning out the bull’s pen, she had taken off her tweeds and pulled on the light blouse and navy wool skirt that was the summer uniform of the St Kildan women. She tried never to wear it except for Sunday best, when the minister had made it clear she would not be accepted into the house of God in men’s clothing, but in this heat, even she couldn’t deny the merits of anything that permitted bare legs.