Isa sat on the flagstone seat in the soft night, hugging her knees and staring at the darkening sky. With shadows in her eyes, she turned her head and waited until he joined her before she spoke. ‘Ye’ve been a while.’
Davie gazed upwards. A single seagull flew silently across the moon. ‘I got a lot of driftwood. Is the baby sleeping?’
‘Aye. Jessie’s rocking the cot. Where’s that music coming from?’
‘Maybe the loft at the Mains. The lads and lassies often get together for a dance on a Saturday night.’
‘Do ye wish ye were with them?’
‘No, I want to be nowhere else than right here.’ He slipped his arm around her.
‘Are ye still mad at me for making ye leave yer mam’s?’
He gave a short laugh. ‘I don't blame ye.’
‘Davie,’ she whispered, and waited until he looked into her face. ‘I’ve never danced.’
‘Never?’
She shook her head.
‘Then how about now.’ He sprung to his feet, and pulled her upright.
‘I don’t know how.’
He put one arm around her waist and clasped her free hand in his. ‘Now watch my feet and do as I do.’ He swirled her round and led her over the green. A wave of sound flowed through her until it was part of her and her first awkward steps became fluid and easy. And as their baby slept, Davie and Isa danced among the stooks of corn, under the light of a harvest moon.
This is a small extract from Follow the Dove.
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