It took us nearly an hour to get back home. Partly, it was due to the heavy load of groceries we were carrying in our backpacks, but mostly, due to the fog. In some places, it was so thick that the only thing I managed to see was my father's orange rain jacket in front of me.
Dad was unusually quiet throughout the journey, probably just about managing to carry his backpack up the hill.
My thoughts kept returning to Emma, to her unusual beauty and friendliness... She was definitely the most interesting girl I had ever met, so open and genuine, unguarded and unpolished... I couldn't wait to see her again.
Like the previous evening, the mist lingering among the cliffs felt strange and mysterious. As if it was hiding something, or someone who wanted to check me out, wanted to see me, but preferred to stay invisible. At least for the moment. It was a perfectly creepy feeling, making me almost shiver in the damp, mild air surrounding us.
Because I could not see the road unfurling in front of me, the walk home seemed much longer. I was hot and tired when we finally reached our house.
"I thought you got lost or decided to stay at Will's for lunch," Mum said, approaching us from the kitchen as soon as we entered. "I was getting bored."
"Next time you can go shopping with Dad and I'll stay at home, then," I told her, passing her my load of groceries.
"Are you sure, Liam?" Dad interrupted us. "I was certain that going shopping has just become your new hobby. Seeing the way you were looking at that girl..."
"Dad! Don't start!" I protested. My father or not, he was the most annoying person in the world.
He only chuckled and winked at Mum, getting her full attention.
"Have I missed something? What are you two talking about?" I heard Mum asking from halfway up the staircase.
I preferred to escape quickly to my room, not giving her a chance to begin with the interrogation. Dad would be more than happy to fill her in instead of me, anyway.
After the late lunch, which Mum prepared from the things we had brought, both my parents got busy with their work.
Dad sat by the computer in his living room-study, complaining about the poor internet connection of this place. That was the only thing he disliked about our new home. He wanted to finish the research he was working on before going on a few days' long camping trip to the other side of the island.
The bevy of sea otters, along with a colony of some sea birds, lived on a small islet off the shore somewhere over there. Dad planned to watch and photograph the otters, study their behaviour and habits, then write a book on them during the winter.
I was hoping that he wouldn't ask me to come with him, I would much rather explore the mysteries of this island with Emma.
Mum was running late with some paperwork for the school in Stornoway. She sat at the table in the kitchen, working on it, typing furiously on her laptop, and making some phone calls. The school would be shut for a couple of weeks in August before it reopened the first week of September. She had to finish all the papers by the end of the next week.
Knowing my parents, once they started working, they would be there until dinner. That meant I had the entire afternoon to myself.
I went up to my room, carefully avoiding the two most creaky steps. They should be fixed before the old wood crumbles under somebody's feet, I thought, entering my room.
Taking the broken key out of my pocket, I walked over to the window and placed it on the wide windowsill. Despite having stayed all morning in my pocket, it felt strangely cold. My mind filled with questions about the key. What did it use to open before someone decided to break it? How was it connected to the Old Lighthouse and the White Lady? Because I somehow knew that it was.
I took the new sketchbook and paints from my bed, where I had left them before, along with Emma's book. My free time had been very limited lately, because of school, and then moving. I had neglected painting, my biggest hobby. Now I finally had some time to spare, and couldn't wait to try my new watercolours.
I went into the bathroom and came back with a glass full of water, then grabbed my brushes from the drawer as I passed by. Having left everything on the windowsill, I carried an old wooden chair, the only one that was in my room, by the window. Sitting down, I propped the sketchbook against the glass pane.
The Byron's Lighthouse was hidden by a dense mist that seemed to be much thicker around it than in other places, making it nearly invisible. It looked as if the fog was trying to erase it from the surface of the island.
Amazingly, despite all the fog, the afternoon was not dark at all. It was strangely bright outside. The heavy mist seemed to be illuminated from inside, as if it had swallowed the sun.
Admiring the unusual view, I painted what I could see through my window. The rugged, mostly naked cliffs, covered only in some places by patches of purple and green heather. The cloud-like fog covered nearly everything in sight, except for the very tip of the lighthouse, which managed to pierce its way out of it.
When the sketch was finished, I realised that the colour of the blooming heather reminded me of something. All of a sudden, it wasn't just any purple; it looked familiar... It was the exact same shade of Emma's eyes.
I put the first picture away and sketched the girl's face quickly on another piece of paper, as well as I could remember it.
Emma's large, heather-coloured eyes, full rosy lips, and her porcelain complexion. Her long, blonde hair, falling in waves to her shoulders from under the large, black, Victorian hat. In the background, I added the cliffs covered in heather, and the lighthouse perched upon them, its light shining through the darkness in the distance. The way I saw it last night.
I didn't realise how long it had taken me when I heard Mum's voice, calling me to dinner. The room was nearly dark now, it was late in the evening.
Before I went downstairs, I put the broken key in my pocket again. I couldn't really understand why I did it, I just felt that I had to have it with me. It was becoming my obsession.
"Liam, I spoke with the school this afternoon," Mum told me, while I was helping her to wash up after dinner. "They need me to come over to Stornoway personally next week. That way, all the papers will be done faster. I thought that once I'm there, I would go back to Edinburgh too, to pack some more stuff and have it all mailed here. If I do this now, we can all enjoy the rest of our summer holiday undisturbed. We won't have to go back later."
"Fine Mum, that sounds good to me," I said, happy that I would not have to go back anytime soon myself.
"You could come with me if you want to. Or, you can stay here and go otter camping with your father," she added loudly, winking at me, making sure that Dad would hear us in the sitting room, where he was watching the evening news.
"Don't listen to any of the spiteful things she tells you about my otters," Dad said, joining us in the kitchen.
"I'm sure that if you come camping with me, we will have a lot of fun," he assured me.
Well, I wasn't too sure about that. I didn't really like any of the two possibilities; my mind was full of the local ghost, and the mystery surrounding it. I just wanted to explore the island alone. Or better, with Emma. I definitely didn't want to leave now, not even for a few days. So Mum's offer was not an option.
"Sorry, Mum, I'd like to stay here. I'd like to explore this place better, while the weather is good. You both said that once August comes, the summer on this island is over. So, before it starts raining..."
"...you'd like to see more of... Emma, right?" Dad finished my sentence, a huge grin plastered to his face. Mum looked at him inquiringly but didn't say anything. Thanks, Mum, I thought.
"Ok, no problem," Mum said, "I didn't really think you would want to go back now; we have just arrived. Well, I'll leave you two alone for a few days then." She glanced from Dad to me, as if she was unsure that she was doing the right thing.
"Oh come on, Sara, we are both big and responsible..." Dad started to say, but Mum interrupted him mid-sentence.
"Please, don't say anything, James, or you'll make me change my mind. Just make sure, both of you, that I won't regret this decision," she said, looking at us seriously.
However, I noticed a trace of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
"Don't worry..." we both said at the same time.
That made her finally laugh, and our serious talk was over.