When I was growing up, I always thought winter came in two colours. There were white days, when everything looked as though it was covered in a fine icing and the frozen grass would crunch under my feet while I practiced making smoke rings on the frosty air. Then there were grey days, a multitude of variations on the same colour, as if God himself had switched the colour setting off on the world. When grey days bled into one another, it felt as though wintertime would never end.
During the dark months, storm-force winds would batter our coastline, the huge Atlantic rollers ripping up long stalks of kelp from the seabed before depositing them on the high-tide line in huge banks, like a visitor leaving a calling card. Nights would be spent listening to static filled news and weather reports on the radio while the wind rattled the slate tiles on the roof, kindly removing the loosest ones for us. Oil lamps were lit when the power failed, but having to do this brought no more than a slight shrug of the shoulder and a small sigh, this was our life and we had grown used to mother nature stealing our power, making life a little more challenging.
Slowly, slowly, winter would lessen its grip, and the first lambs of the year would be born, their thin bleating, the first music of spring. When I was young there was always at least one, born a few weeks sooner than the rest, my father would bring the lamb into our kitchen, settling it in a warm box by the stove. This was the closest I ever got to having a pet; the dogs my father kept were strictly for working and he was adamant that they were not to be turned soft. My father and mother were gone now, but sometimes I could still feel their presence, in times when I questioned my solitary life and it filled me with a quiet contentment.
The main town on the island lay fifteen miles away, home to some six thousand people and overlooked by a stunning castle, which, at one time belonged to the owner of the island. That was many years ago though, and since then, the island had been gifted back to the islanders, along with the castle. It might have only been a short drive away, but I only made the trip when strictly necessary, each time I went there it seemed as if another of my former classmates had gotten married, fallen pregnant or flown off to pastures new. It just reminded me that my life had stood still.
The churning and boiling seas of winter were gone now, replaced by gently rolling waves that lapped delicately, a quiet murmuring instead of the crashing and deafening roar of the rocks being dragged along by the currents. I stretched out underneath my quilt and breathed deeply, looking sideways towards the kitchen window, seeing the gulls flying high in the distance, their cries unheard. It was time to get up, and judging by the way my collie dog Jess was eyeing me, one ear cocked, tongue lolling as she stood sentry beside the cupboard that I kept her food in, I had overslept.
My shower was taken in record time because I had forgotten to heat the water, so my skin was tingling and covered in goosebumps by the time I finished towelling myself dry. After dressing, I headed back to the kitchen and fed Jess while I waited for the kettle to boil for my morning caffeine kick. Clutching my cup in one hand, I opened the kitchen door and smiled widely, greeting the morning.
Slowly, I walked barefoot through the machair that wrapped itself like a multi-coloured blanket just above the high-tide line. This was my ritual when the weather permitted, the beautiful clashing colours of the carpet flowers infecting me with their energy while at the same time giving cover to the corncrake whose cries rang out above the gentle sounds of the sea. This was my home, my beach, and there was not another soul within shouting distance to share it with.
The cottage that had been left to me by my parents would never have graced the pages of any glossy magazines; the kitchen was quite large and the bedrooms were furnished with a comfortable but shabby collection of inherited furniture. The beds were covered with quilts made when the harsh winter weather made it impossible to venture outside and most of the time, I slept in the kitchen on a small sofa that sat close to a stove that the cottage had almost certainly been built around.
Carefully I sat down at the very edge where the machair dropped away to the beach, sliding my toes into the sand and feeling the crunch of seashell beneath the seat of my jeans. Only rarely did I have to share my beach with anyone, sometimes a group of conservationists happened along, keen to find ways to protect the machair from the tides or birdwatchers, bedecked in binoculars, handbooks stuffed in every available pocket of their wax jackets. They never stopped too long though, fleeting ghosts and passers-by in my life.
I had just raised the cup to my lips when I heard an excited barking coming from the back of the cottage, I smiled to myself and waited for the black and white blur that was sure to come hurtling at me. Jess had left on my doorstep shortly after my parents died, an anonymous gift of companionship that came at a time when I desperately needed something other than my own maudlin thoughts to dwell on.
She divided her time between chasing the ghosts of sheep that had once roamed the hills behind the cottage and jumping in and out of the waves with the boundless enthusiasm of an overgrown puppy; it was always a wonder to me how she managed to spare herself a drowning. Stopping only long enough to drag her tongue over the side of my face she ran straight past me and down to the water; pushing her nose through the seaweed for any sticks that might be worth playing with.
The sea hadn't been particularly generous and she gave up quickly, deciding instead to streak to the far end of the beach where a rocky out-crop gave protection to a small pebble strewn cove on the other side. She had caught the scent of something interesting that was for sure because as I shouted her back she gave no sign of recognition. It was more than likely a rabbit or a mink, there were no other animals I could think of that would have caused her so much excitement but interest had me putting my cup down.
The morning sun warmed my arms and the gentle breeze moulded the soft material of my over-washed and faded t-shirt against my body, the frayed threads of my cut off jeans tickled my legs and I smiled, curiosity peaked by the dog's barking. Slowly I jogged along the sand just above where the tide was lapping and watched as Jess disappeared behind the rocks. Her barking was much quieter now, just an occasional yip and purely on gut instinct I knew something wasn't right. Carefully I picked my way over the rocks and stopped briefly at the top, looking on to where Jess stood guard over a large, dark, body shaped lump.
Despite the warmth of the sun, I felt beads of cold sweat breaking out over my body and my stomach started to churn. I had stopped hearing anything but the thunder of my heartbeat; there were neither sea sounds nor birds screeching. It was as though I was in a long tunnel and at the end of it was whoever was lying on the beach. It wasn't uncommon for bodies to be washed up on any of the islands beaches. Poor unfortunates that had fallen over the side of their fishing boats or even those that had tired of life and had walked into the waves and away from their troubles. Dread filled me, death wasn't something I wanted to be dealing with but I knew I couldn't just stand where I was doing nothing.
Slowly I made my way down the rocks and onto the pebbled beach and as I got closer to Jess she began to whimper softly, lifting a paw to place it on what I now knew to be a very tall man. His face was not bloated, as I would have expected for someone that had spent some time in the sea and his clothes looked to be completely dry; in fact, he just looked as though he was asleep. Jess herself was acting strangely; she had crouched down low and placed her head on the man's chest.
The moment I saw her crawl forwards towards his face, I knew there was a chance and my heart leapt. I quickly grabbed his wrist and felt around for a pulse, trying to concentrate. Carefully I tilted his head back and bent my head down close to his, completely unprepared for the two hands that placed themselves on either side of my head and the blazing blue eyes that stared intently into mine.
"If you wanted to kiss me sweetheart, all you had to do was ask. It's rude to take without asking first, did your mother not teach you any manners at all." He laughed softly as I pulled myself back sharply.
"I thought you were dead! You could have been for all I knew, at least I was concerned enough to check." Right at that moment, I wished that I had the escape of death, I felt mortified.
"Jesus woman, can't a man take the time to lie down and watch the clouds without being leapt upon." He had rolled to his side facing me.
"You weren't watching anything, your eyes were shut!" I got to my feet and spun on my heel, hearing him getting to his feet behind me, but as far as I was concerned, the conversation was over, humiliation swept through me, heating my face.
"Jess, heel!" I commanded, but all I got was a small whine from the traitorous animal.
"Looks like she'd rather keep me company, and if you'd wait for me, maybe you could tell me something about the area. The sheep I met last night weren't too talkative." His voice teased me but I held fast.
