Northern Sunset. Penny Jordan

him as she did all the crofters; they were part of her family.

      It didn’t take long to get the provisions loaded into the ancient Land Rover. The village was quiet, the men out fishing, and refusing a cup of tea, Catriona climbed into the Land Rover and switched on the engine.

      The unmade road climbed out of the village and across the peat moors; carpeted with wild flowers in summer, but now in winter, grim and bleak with no tree or bush to break the windswept turf. Here and there were neat bare patches where the villagers had removed peat to heat their fires. There was no coal or wood on the islands and although these luxuries had been imported lavishly during Catriona’s parents’ time, now the fires of the Great House were heated by the same means as those in the crofts.

      The road ran past the highest part of the island, the crumbling remains of a single tower all that was left of the once proud castle built during the turbulent times of the wicked Earl Patrick, who had once ruled these islands with cruelty and cunning.

      The Great House was built in sandstone, overlooking a small loch, its gardens protected from the fierce wind by the sheltering hill which rose behind it. Falla had good pastures and during the summer the cows and sheep grew fat and contented. The once beautiful heather garden looked neglected and bedraggled as Catriona drove slowly through the huge wrought iron gates imported from England by the eighteenth-century Peterson who had commissioned this elegant Georgian building.

      The library, which faced out on to the drive, was the room Catriona and Magnus used most. The once elegant and gracious drawing rooms were now closed off, gathering dust and falling into disrepair. At first on her return Catriona had been shocked and distressed by this, but gradually this had faded under the burden of struggling to keep even one room reasonably warm, look after her brother, manage their finances and feed them.

      Magnus was standing by the window watching for her—a good sign, and she pulled up hurriedly, lifting one of the smaller boxes from the Land Rover.

      Magnus opened the door for her, Russet, his red setter, jumping up enthusiastically to welcome Catriona home.

      As she kissed his cheek Catriona could not help comparing her brother’s gaunt features with those of the man who had invaded her bedroom.

      Magnus was twenty-nine and his bulky sweater hung loosely on what had once been a well-built frame. His hair was as fair as Catriona’s, his eyes a deep blue, but where laughter had once lurked in their depths there was now only pain. He never discussed the accident with her, because he wanted to protect her, she acknowledged, but when would he realise that she was no longer a little girl to be sheltered from life’s blows?

      He followed her down the stone-flagged hall to the kitchen, and Catriona dumped her box on the large wooden table, heaving a sigh of relief.

      “Get everything you wanted?” Magnus enquired, investigating the contents curiously.

      “Everything I could afford,” Catriona told him wryly. “Lerwick has become fantastically expensive—another legacy from the oil rigs, I suppose.”

      She had her back to Magnus and didn’t see his faint frown at her acerbic tone. He pushed the box away and came to stand beside her, his arm around her shoulders.

      “Aren’t you finding it a bit heavy?” he asked her gently.

      Nonplussed, Catriona stared at him. This was her usual day for baking and breadmaking and she wanted to check the old-fashioned kitchen range before she started.

      “That chip you’re carrying,” Magnus explained. “Look, Cat, I appreciate your concern and loyalty, but what happened to me was an accident, pure and simple—there’s no point in blaming oil for it, nor on feeling this silly hatred of everything connected with it.”

      Catriona’s fingers curled into her palms. She found it impossible to understand how Magnus could so calmly accept what had happened.

      “Leave all that,” he said suddenly. “Come into the library, there’s something I want to show you.”

      Mystified, Catriona allowed him to propel her out into the chilly hall and into the library.

      A peat fire burned brightly in the immense hearth and Catriona sank gratefully into a leather chair, her hands outstretched to the flames.

      “You do too much,” Magnus told her gently. “You shouldn’t have given up your training, Cat. You can’t spend the rest of your life on Falla with me.”

      “I don’t see why not,” she argued stubbornly. “After all, it is half my island, so you can’t order me to leave, can you?”

      “Perhaps not, but it’s no life for a young girl.” He caught hold of her hands, studying the broken nails and calloused skin, a look of burning anger in his eyes.

      “God, Cat, I’ve been so selfish, but all that’s going to change.”

      Catriona stared at him, a joyful smile trembling on her lips. “Magnus… You can’t mean you’re going back to work?”

      He frowned.

      “No, I can’t do that. Oh, I could do the routine work all right; but sooner or later I would find myself in a situation that I’m not capable of handling now. Sooner or later someone’s life is going to be at risk, and I’m not going to be able to cope. That’s what being a geologist is all about.”

      “Strange,” Catriona murmured dryly, not wanting him to see her disappointment. “I thought it was about looking for minerals.”

      “Often in remote and dangerous parts of the world,” Magnus insisted. “In situations where you’ve got to be able to rely on the other members of your team, and what sane man could trust his life to me now….”

      His bitterness made her want to cry.

      “Oh, Magnus, you don’t know that….”

      “Oh yes, I do,” he said with bitter finality. “Don’t you think I’ve not been over and over it all these last few months? It’s over, Cat. As a geologist I’m finished, but that doesn’t mean the end of everything. I got this yesterday, it came after you’d left.” He handed her an envelope.

      The mailboat called once a week, and Catriona stared at the impressively typed letter. It was addressed to the owners of Falla Island, and her colour faded, as she read and re-read it, her lips pursed together in an angry line.

      “Magnus, we can’t possibly agree to this!” she protested as she put it down. “An oil terminal on Falla? They must be mad!”

      “Not necessarily,” Magnus contradicted. There was a briskness in his voice which made Catriona glance curiously at him. On his return from hospital and during the long months which had followed he had seemed to share her bitter hatred of all things oil completely, but now she was forced to admit that she must have misjudged his sentiments.

      “Come and look at this,” he commanded, opening his desk and getting out a map of the island. It was one he himself had drawn while he was at university, and although only a week ago seeing him take such an interest in things would have filled her with joy, now Catriona felt only apprehension as she watched him unroll the map and study it deeply before calling her over.

      “Here’s Falla Voe, and next to it the harbour. You remember how I once told you how these voes were formed during the Ice Age and how unimaginably deep they are?” When Catriona nodded he continued enthusiastically, “You’ve seen how successful the oil terminal at Sullom Voe is—well, what the construction company are planning is a much smaller but similar operation here, to be used as a back-up system.”

      “But it would ruin Falla,” Catriona protested, hardly able to believe her ears. Surely Magnus couldn’t be in favour of it?

      “Come with me.”

      Taking her hand, he led her from the library and back out into the hall, throwing open the huge double doors to the drawing room. The plaster ceiling was tinged with mould, the furniture covered in dusty sheets, the whole room