Free Island of Wings by Karin Altenberg Page A

this year, also lives here and sometimes the child’s grandmother. This is one of the smaller families on the island,’ he explained.
    Rhoderick had retreated to the far end of the room and was beckoning the brothers to follow him. As they approached they saw a strange hollow which had been dug into the wall about three inches above the floor. George sat down to look inside, and to his amazement he saw that bracken had been spread across the floor of the hollow to form a bed. ‘Is this where they sleep?’ He could not believe it. ‘Yes,’ answered the minister, ‘I have tried to persuade them to sleep in more sanitary conditions but I have yet to succeed.’ He sighed. ‘Perhaps now you understand better what I am up against, Mr Atkinson.’ George did not reply; he was still staring into the chilly dugout.
    â€˜These dwellings are standing so close together that they can sometimes speak with their neighbours through the earth in the bed hollows,’ explained MacKenzie. ‘In a few cases they have dug out the partition altogether to form a communal sleeping area. These huts are commonly used for the young during the white nights in the spring, when they stay up late to play their courting games.’
    â€˜You mean that the young all sleep together – unmarried boys and girls?’ Dick, who had been quiet for a while, could not disguise the fascination in his voice.
    â€˜I am afraid it has been known to happen, but I am quite committed to stamping out such un-Christian behaviour,’ the minister answered ardently.
    The two brothers thanked Rhoderick in English for the visit. It was slightly easier to find their way out as the light from the tunnel indicated the direction, but the abominations through which they had to crawl were still as threatening, and the smell was vicious enough to make George gag and swallow hard.
    It was a great relief to get back out into the fresh air. As they brushed the worst of the muck from their knees and elbows, collected their coats and turned to walk back towards the manse, the minister told them that the natives had offered to take them to Boreray the following morning to see the nesting gannets.
    Back at the manse, Lizzie had prepared a light meal of local cheese and bread. The Atkinsons had little appetite but agreed that the local cheese was good enough for any market on the mainland. The brothers chatted gaily to Mrs MacKenzie about their day and everyone seemed contented. After the meal the men brought their chairs out into the glebe to smoke their pipes and watch the bay. The evening was as light as midday. The wind had died down and the clouds were gone. The salt air was mingled with a scent of hawthorn. A flock of starlings was swinging high above the bay, mirroring the shoal of herring flickering in wave upon wave in the depths below. The men watched in silence for a while, each drawn to his own memories of beauty and perfection to equal the moment. Their emotions at that instance were so exposed that a stranger would have read them in any of their faces.
    It was George who broke the silence. ‘How far man in the civilised world has moved from God’s creation!’ he exclaimed with feeling. ‘Life on this island must be as God intended it.’
    The starlings ascended like the stroke of a brush through the high summer skies.
    â€˜Ah, but the beauty of this evening has made you forget your feelings as you visited Mr MacLeod’s house this afternoon,’ replied the minister, who felt uncomfortable when the young man issued judgement on the people he was supposed to know best.
    â€˜Not at all! I admit that the hygiene in this place wants for improvement, but what I saw today of the community of men was most encouraging.’
    â€˜How so?’
    â€˜Here is a web of rights, powers and obligations that protects the citizens. Men exist in harmony with nature and keep the peace amongst each other through