O Caledonia by Elspeth Barker Read Free Book Online

always tell. ’ ‘Tant pis!’ yelled Hector, who relished the occasional French phrase, ‘je men fous. There ’ s room enough for the whole clan. She ’ ll have her own little place at the back and you ’ ll never need to see her. Anyway, look at your family. Particularly look at your Aunt Maisie. ’ At this point Vera became aware of Janet ’ s interested face hovering about the doorway, seized her and bundled her off to find bathing things for the picnic.
    At last they were all sitting in the dunes, much farther along the bay than usual, for it was the Glasgow holiday and the nearer beach contained roistering Glaswegian families. Hector and Francis and Janet collected driftwood and made a fire and the smoke for once went straight up into the still air and blinded no one. Rhona helped Vera amuse baby Lulu while they bathed, then she and Vera ran down into the sea while Hector tried to hold Lulu who squirmed and rolled and finally yelled. Janet and Francis skulked off behind the dunes but Rhona was back in a moment, hugging her, soothing her. It was time for tea. Vera handed round special bags, one for each child. Janet grabbed hers and retreated to a sand throne she had made high above them, near the spikes of marram grass and pink thrift. Vera called her back. ‘Come on; Janet, Rhona’s been helping all afternoon. It’s time you did something. Let Lulu sit beside you; just hold on to her and don’t let her tip over.’ Lulu couldn’t sit at all and she flopped all over Janet and pulled her hair and put sand in her sandwiches and dribbled on her knee. ‘Stupid baby,’ hissed Janet. ‘Why did they have to bring you?’ Lulu stared at her doubtfully, put a sandy fist in her mouth, choked on the sand and began to yell again. Vera snatched her away. ‘For goodness’ sake, you could make just a little effort sometimes for other people. Look how thoughtful Rhona is, and she’s much younger.’ Janet flicked sand into Rhona’s gentle, beaming face. ‘That’s it. Off you go, take your picnic right down the beach and don’t come back until you can say sorry.’
    Glowering, Janet shambled to her feet and tramped off, gripping her paper bag. She would go as far as possible, so they could hardly see her and so she couldn’t hear them. She went towards the sea, where the receding tide had left great shining rocks. She cast a scornful glance back at her family but they were not watching her. They had their backs turned, gathered about the small fire. Janet turned west towards the looming black headland where the cave was. Today she did not fear it. She was powerful with a cold anger; she was an outcast, a tragic dwindling figure soon to be seen no more. When she reached the basalt cliffs and the cave, the darkness would take her. This would be her revenge. Her paper bag began to tear where she clutched it. She decided to sit down and eat her picnic first. She found a long low grey rock, pleasingly warm and dry, and clambered on to it. She ripped open her paper bag and began to eat in a savage, vulpine manner, tearing the rolls apart, chewing with her mouth open, staring grimly out at the hazed blue sea and the great sinking sun. Gradually her anger left her; she breathed the soft air of early evening, heard the gulls cry, watched them swoop and skim over the tiny waves at the water’s edge, over the track of radiance which led to the horizon. She thought of Orion, the blinded giant who had to wade through the farthest depths of ocean, following the setting sun to the limit of the world, and her heart stirred with pity for his lonely fate. She would forgive her family and go back to them. She would even say sorry although she would not mean it.
    The headland seemed menacing now and she felt cold. She scrambled to her feet and as she did so she was aware of a strange and dreadful stench all about her. It seemed to come from the rock. She jumped off it and stared at it. Then she screamed loud and long and again and