Page 53 of On The Edge

“There’s a ceilidh on at the village hall.”

Cat cringed at the mention of a ceilidh, the image of being rejected by Patrick still haunted her on occasion. She ignored the nagging, unsettling feeling. “Maybe you could stay here and we could all go together?”

“For you, I'll manage it.” Billy patted her hand with a grin.

The night had become colder, so they spent some time in front of the fire drinking Billy’s favourite Bourbon. Billy spoke about his years on the fishing boats, from ventures such as swimming with sharks, to lying under the endless flickering of northern lights. “When you’re out there, in the ocean.” He closed his eyes, sitting still. “You’re at the mercy of nature. I’ve never felt so free, and so alone.” He reflected a moment, then started to rummage in his pockets. “I never did show you a picture of Effie.” The old man produced a small bundle of photos secured with ribbon, which was carefully untied, and the contents spread on the coffee table in front of Cat.

A black-and-white photo showed a bright-eyed girl with dark, bobbed hair, wearing a wedding dress.

“Oh my goodness, she’s beautiful!” Cat picked up the photo and looked at the smiling eyes, a bride on her wedding day.

“Aye...she was bonnie.” Billy looked at the photo. “Always happy, always seeing the good things in life.” His eyes started to redden, and he rubbed them and coughed.

“How old was she here?” Cat picked up a later, coloured photo of Effie holding a toddler.

“She was about forty I’d say. That's our niece.” He pointed to the little girl. “Her sister had a few bairns, and she doted on them. They were like our own, for a while; we’d have them to stay for days on end. Having tea parties, making play-dens, playing catch on the beach. It was a special time.”

“You don’t see them now?” Cat tucked back a curl behind her ear.

“Nae, life gets in the way doesn’t it?” He sniffed. “Everyone leaves home, those bairns are all now spread over the country with their own families.”

Cat went through the photos, seeing in each an insight into Billy’s life. Picking up another image, she saw him and Effie nestled together on a wooden bench beside the sea. Billy wore a leather jacket with his hair combed back, while Effie was in a peach dress. “Billy - you were very handsome!” Cat giggled. “I bet Effie had to keep her eye on you! I’m sure you were popular with the ladies.”

“Not a bit of it, I only had eyes for her.” He sipped his dram, looking more happy, and less melancholy than he had when he first produced the bundle. Cat glanced over the other photos until one got her attention. It was much older, and had writing on the back. Maggie, Sarah and Effie, 1946. Effie looked about five or six, with two older girls on either side behind her. Effie stood staring at the camera with a serious face, as the two teenage girls smiled with mischief and the beginnings of teenage poise. They stood in front of a gate, and some rose bushes. The scene was somehow familiar. Then it hit Cat, and she froze. The older girl on the right had curly hair that was pinned back, and wore a simple day-dress, her hand resting on Effie’s shoulder. Cat’s heart skipped a beat, and unsure of quite what was happening, she asked Billy if he knew the children.

“Oh yes. That’s Maggie on the left, or Marge as we knew her, and her friend Sarah on the right. They were close. Looked after Effie from time to time.” He looked at Cat’s pale face. “Are you OK?”

“Billy, do you know this is Marge’s cottage?” Her mouth was dry, her head buzzing.

The old man gave a half-smile. “I knew this was her place, but I'd never been inside before to be honest.” His face was full of concern as he watched Cat stand slowly. She went upstairs, collected her own photo albums, and walked back down to Billy, who was now standing by the fire.

Cat took out a photo of her mother and her grandmother. They both had the same nose and eyes, which Cat had inherited in her turn. Cat’s mother would say her red hair came from her granny’s side of the family too.

“This was my grannie, along with my mum. I kept all my mum’s photos after she died.” Then she found the picture that had been so similar to Billy’s. She took out the black-and-white photo of her grandmother, and of the woman that stood beside her. They both smiled together by a gate and a cluster of rose bushes. This woman was Marge; it was Marge’s garden. How had Cat not seen it before? She had gone through Marge’s photos with Johnny, but nothing had caught her eye until tonight. She pointed to Billy’s photo of the girl standing behind Effie. “I don’t know how, but... that's my grandmother”.

The evening blurred into a series of questions. Cat examined all her photographs, and Billy’s again too. My grandmother Sarah had been at this very house before, but how? Billy told her what little he knew of the girl named Sarah, as Cat drank in all the details.

“She had beautiful red hair... all the lads would whistle at her as she passed by. She'd make her own clothing out of anything going spare, it was hard to find much during the rationing.” Billy remembered her friendship with Marge; the two girls would sing together at weddings, funerals and all the village fairs. “Voices of angels, they had. We used to joke they'd be the next Andrews Sisters. I think she got married. Effie didn’t speak much of her after a while. She was a lot younger, see, so she started making friends her own age, and once the war was over things changed so much”. Billy’s eyes started to close, and within a few minutes he was emitting gentle snoring noises. No doubt she had poured him one too many drams in the hope of more stories. Cat fetched a blanket to cover the old man on the sofa, and then put another couple of logs on the fire. She texted Jess to say Billy was asleep, and not to worry about coming over. She hoped her friend was getting on well with Andrew’s parents, regardless. Cat switched her phone off and went upstairs to lie on her bed, thinking of the white-haired lady she knew as a little girl, and feeling much closer to her than she ever had before.