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her head and walked outside.

     
    If her charges had felt anger towards Rory, it was soon dispelled. It was if he’d never left them, and they each fought to hold his attention, asking eager questions about what he’d done and where he’d been.
    Helen wouldn’t up sticks and move away though, there was no point. Sure, her heart would break and for a while be empty, but she was a Durness spinster, not a wandering traveller. No, she’d stay in her secure little home and bear a lonely existence.
    With formality forgotten, Bruar, gingerly at first, walked around Rory as he sat by the fire, staring for ages at his scarred face, big broad shoulders and thick mane of grey hair. With his rugged and worn appearance his father looked older than his thirty-five years.
    He sat by him and asked, ‘Auntie Helen told us mammy was a tinker. Is that true, Rory—sorry, father?’
    ‘As wild and as beautiful as a gentle roe deer. She smelt like flowers, and her hair was as black as the shiny wings of a raven,’ he said, closing his eyes to see the precious vision clearer in his memory.
    ‘She sounds right bonny. I’m going to marry a beautiful girl one day, father, you know?’
    ‘Oh, you are, are you?’ He laughed then added, ‘She might be a beauty, but there will never be another to match your mother.’
    ‘Will we live in a house, father?’ enquired Jimmy. ‘It’s just I knew some travellers who came by from Caithness, they said the winters in tents were killers.’
    Rory drew a hand across his younger son’s shoulder, and sat back in his chair, ‘We’ve got a good long summer ahead, and it’s the tent I have, but don’t worry. When winter comes I should have managed to secure a house from a factor, providing we get winter work. But listen, your mother, she was born and reared in a tent, and it didn’t do her any harm at all. It’s how you build one, that’s the secret. I’ll show you soon.’
    Bruar asked if, like him, they’d also have to work.
    ‘Hard work is good for young lads, but only if you want to. I’ll do the providing,’ he assured them with the full weight of his conviction.
    For a while Jimmy and Bruar talked things over, then Bruar, being the oldest, said, ‘Daddy, me and Jimmy think before you get much older, you’ll need us to see to you.’
    Helen could hear this from the compost heap where she had loosely tossed the withered flowers, and knew then she’d lost the two most precious people in her life. Aware that on this day her chapter of surrogacy was closing, she had to speak with Bruar alone, certain things had to be said. Going inside she called him, Jimmy went with his father at her request. Rory took his younger son’s hand and walked outside to give them time together. He knew she was going to tell Bruar about the ‘promise’; though he was aware of it, it was not his place to speak about it.
    ‘Son,’ she told Bruar, ‘listen to what I say and never forget it. In time I was going tell you of the “promise”, but I hadn’t planned it so soon. Your father is the last of our family’s line. In the ancient burial ground by the Parbh below the lighthouse there is one plot. It was destined for him, but because he laid a hand in anger upon the Balnakiel Seer he has forfeited it to you, his eldest. Whoever you marry she must see that you are buried in that old graveyard. You know where it is, for I have taken both of you many times. That is how it must be. And another thing, although he’s promised the drink hasn’t passed his lips for years, watch for its lure. Not even a priest of the church has enough will-power to resist it when the desire for it is strong. Drinking is like cleaning a cloudy mirror; suddenly a grand image will appear, but it only exists in the drinker’s head. The image looks dull again when the drink is gone. That’s why many fall victim to its charms.’
    The youngster understood little of these words at the time, nor did his immature thoughts rest on