Northern Sunset. PENNY JORDAN

were dependent on the crofters for milk and vegetables from their gardens; Catriona had returned to Falla too late to make use of its brief summer, and those same crofters who generously shared their produce with them were, as Magnus had reminded her, poor themselves. Was she being selfish in wanting to keep Falla as it had always been? A fierce wave of hatred seized her. Wherever she turned it all came back to the same thing: oil. If it hadn’t been for oil Magnus would be whole and well and there would be no need to even contemplate this… this rape of their home.

      “So you’re in favour?”

      Her eyes begged him to deny it, and for a moment Magnus’s face softened.

      “I think we should at least let them do some explorative work, for the sake of the islanders if nothing else. Don’t you see, Cat,” he said softly, “we don’t have the right to deny them this opportunity, and if they do go ahead it won’t soil Falla; the Government are pretty stiff about these things. Anyway, that’s a long way off, these geologists they want to send out might not find the voe suitable.”

      “Geologists?” Catriona said eagerly. “Oh, Magnus, why don’t you offer to do the work? I’m sure….”

      “No!”

      The harsh word cut across her excitement, dashing all her newly sprung hopes.

      “I might know in my heart that this terminal is right for Falla, but don’t expect me to take any professional interest in it. I’ve told you, Cat, I don’t have what it takes any more. Investigating that voe means that someone will have to dive into those waters, examine those undersea cliffs,” he told her brutally, “relying only on a back-up team on land. Do you think anyone would trust me to be a member of that team after what happened in the Gulf?”

      The anguish in his voice made her blench.

      “But, Magnus, nothing did happen. You were knocked out and left for dead….”

      “And when I came round I was alive and all around me my colleagues, my friends were dying in agony, and I didn’t do a thing to help.”

      “You couldn’t do anything to help,” Catriona protested, not sure whether to be glad or sorry that he was at last discussing with her the story she had only so far heard from Mac. “You were paralysed.”

      “With fear,” Magnus said with deep loathing. “Paralysed with fear, while all around me men were on fire.”

      “You weren’t paralysed with fear,” Catriona protested. “Mac explained it all to me, Magnus, the blow you received did that….”

      “Oh, for God’s sake stop trying to make it easier for me!” Magnus demanded harshly. “God, I wish I had died there. You can’t know the hell life has been ever since.” He dropped into a chair, his head in his hands, his shoulders shaking.

      “Look at me, Cat,” he commanded bitterly. “I’m not even a man any longer….” His eyes were bleak and hopeless, arousing all her protective instincts. How could he call himself a coward when he was brave enough to endure the sight of men who he claimed would only have contempt for him, on this island which was his retreat, and for the benefit of others?

      CATRIONA was just lifting the bread tins out of the oven when she heard the helicopter overhead. Ten minutes later there was a knock on the back door, and she went to open it, shooing away the free-range chickens who kept them supplied with eggs, a genuinely pleased smile curving her lips.

      “Mac!” she exclaimed, greeting their visitor. “We weren’t expecting you today.”

      She stood aside to allow the grizzled Scotsman to enter the room, grinning as he sniffed the warm bread-scented atmosphere appreciatively.

      “I had to go out to one of the rigs, and I got them to drop me off here instead of Lerwick.”

      “Magnus will be pleased to see you.” Catriona picked up one of the tins and expertly knocked on the bottom to remove the loaf, cutting a generous crust and spreading it with butter.

      “It will give you indigestion,” she warned as Mac took it from her, busying herself with the old-fashioned kettle she had got into the habit of using on the range rather than rely on the eccentric habits of their generator.

      “Worth it, though. Something wrong?” he queried when Catriona gave him a rather preoccupied smile. “Magnus isn’t worse, is he?”

      “He’s gone out for a walk.” Catriona worried about these solitary walks of her brother’s, with only his dog for company. “Mac, we had a letter this morning. They want to build a back-up terminal on Falla.”

      “And you’re against the idea?”

      She nodded.

      “What does Magnus say?”

      She told him, adding that she was surprised that he hadn’t vetoed it from the very start, but mentioning how he had changed when she had suggested that he might do the survey.

      “Umm. It could be a good sign. It proves that he hasn’t withdrawn totally from the outside world. As a matter of fact, having men here from his old life might be the best thing that could happen to him. Seeing them might help him get over the mental block he’s created inside himself and drive him out of himself.”

      “And if it doesn’t? If it makes him withdraw even further? Oh, Mac, I’m so frightened for him! I’m sure he’s only considering this terminal because he thinks it will be best for the rest of us. If you could have seen him this afternoon when he was talking about the accident….”

      “But don’t you see?” Mac demanded, suddenly excited. “He did talk about it. Who knows, this desire to allow them on to Falla might be a deeply hidden longing to return to his old life.”

      “Then you think I should agree?”

      He got up and came over to her, his eyes kind and understanding. “Not just agree, Cat, but actively encourage him. Can you do that?”

      She had to turn away so that he wouldn’t see the despair in her eyes.

      “I don’t know,” she admitted. “You know how I feel about the industry.”

      “Aye, you’re a bonny hater,” Mac agreed with a smile which robbed the words of criticism. “But Magnus is right, you owe it to your people to at least let them make explorations.”

      Catriona knew when she was defeated. Much as she hated the idea it looked as though she was going to have to give in, but that didn’t mean that she had stopped fighting. One sign that Falla was going to be despoiled, one hint that these intruders were adversely affecting Magnus and they would be gone.

      “You can’t go on living like this, Cat,” Mac added gently. “It wasn’t what your parents would have wanted for you. How long is it since you last went out to a dance, or enjoyed yourself at all, come to that?” He tweaked her long braid, and although Catriona had been about to protest that she didn’t mind, that she didn’t miss the fun and glamour of London, she was suddenly conscious of the picture she must present in her heavy sweater and shabby jeans, and grimaced slightly.

      Having persuaded Mac to stay and eat with them, and assured him that Findlay would take him back to Lerwick, she collected cutlery from a drawer and started to place it on the table. She and Magnus always ate in the kitchen; for one thing it was always warm, and that had become an important consideration in their lives.

      The meal she had planned was only simple: omelettes made from the eggs she had gathered that afternoon, homemade bread, and some scones she had just placed in the oven. Magnus walked in as she was beating the eggs. His walk had brought the colour to a face which had grown unnaturally pale, and Catriona was pleased to see that he greeted their visitor with enthusiasm. As she had hoped he would, Mac introduced the subject of the proposed oil terminal, and as Catriona moved deftly about the old-fashioned kitchen the two men discussed the possible outcome if the geologists’ report was favourable.

      Both men praised her cooking,