Seacliff

Chapter forty-five: Bocchan

1929

Saoirse couldn't remember the last time she'd been on holiday.

Moving to the Scottish coast from the polluted smog of London had felt like one – until the advancement of her aunt's illness had required the reawakening of her Nightingale skills. That was ten years hence and now she rejoiced at the prospect of taking a break from life for once.

"We must visit the castle," Aidan demanded as he lugged his little trunk to the car.

"Which castle, my love?"

Saoirse helped her husband secure their luggage on the car, then held the door open for her son to hop onto the backseat. They were driving up the coast to Aberdeen, passing through Edinburgh, Perth, and Dundee on the way.

"Dunnottar," Aidan declared in a dramatic voice and his eyes sparkled.

Saoirse couldn't help a chuckle. The boy loved ruins. He knew Tantallon inside out and had visited all the other castles in the region at least twice. It was the family's favourite weekend pastime, taking the curious lad on expeditions through the country. James had even gone with him to the British Museum in London a few times, but it was open-air adventure that appealed to him most.

"Of course we will, darling." She tousled the boy's hair and smooched him on the forehead, which he scowled at. Saoirse laughed some more.

Anna, the visiting housemaid, would live at the Lodge for the fortnight that the Mortimers would be away, looking after the cottage and the animals.

Maggie McLellan was left in charge of the ambulance convoy, the establishment of which Saoirse and her husband had spearheaded over the past eight years. The local chatterboxes had disdained the idea to begin with, but Saoirse's perseverance and Lady Mortimer's patronage had won over all the right people.

The veterans had supported the initiative and those of them who could still drive volunteered for the service – although some weren't all too keen about female colleagues. Saoirse had enlisted her old FANY friends to help teach the recruits first aid, mechanics, and ambulance driving. The most eager of learners, Maggie had grown to become Saoirse's second-in-command.

"Are we all set?" she asked James.

He cast a cursory glance at the car, the house, and the yard, and nodded. "I believe we are. Let's go."

He climbed onto the passenger's seat, while Saoirse took the wheel. She was wearing a pair of tailored trousers for the occasion and flat-soled shoes. Tinted spectacles, tucked like a tiara into her hair, and crocheted driving gloves with soft leather grips completed her holiday look.

Their stop in Edinburgh served a twofold purpose. First, Aidan kissed and hugged his grandparents goodbye – Sir Alexander had warmed up to the boy, although James's relationship with his father remained strained.

Second, they picked up Aidan's favourite playmate from the New Town.

"How thrilling," Natsume exclaimed, once he slid in beside the boy. "A holiday!"

Saoirse smiled in the rear-view mirror. "Tell me about it!"

"Uncle Natsume, you're always on holiday," Aidan pointed out and the car filled with laughter. It flustered the sensitive child. "You never go to school!" he hurried to explain. "And – and... you stay with us at the Lodge all the time!"

"You are right, of course, bocchan." Natsume took off his hat and set it on his lap. "You are right."

The term of endearment, which Natsume often employed, apparently meant 'young master' and was also the title of a Japanese novel, which the two intellectuals often discussed.

"Have you finished translating it?" Aidan enquired excitedly. "I am dying to read it!"

Natsume graced the boy with an affectionate smile.

Saoirse's heart always melted at the sight and she exchanged a pleased look with James. They both loved how attached Natsume had grown to their son. The independent artist engaging in hedonistic pursuits because his free spirit couldn't be contained had found a like-minded soul to bond with and bestowed his unguarded fondness upon him.

"Not yet, little one. The greatness of Natsume Sōseki is not so easy to transfer into English."

Aidan groaned. "Then teach me more Japanese!"

The boy certainly had a penchant for theatrics and an unquenchable thirst for knowledge.

Natsume snickered. "You're on holiday, bocchan."

"Yes, but – " The child crossed his arms, pouting.

Natsume raised his eyebrows, awaiting the argument that brewed behind those pursed lips.

Aidan's eyes brightened up. "I always learn Japanese when I'm on holiday! Every summer, and every Easter, and every Christmas," he was counting them on his fingers, "and every... every weekend – well, almost every weekend, mostly I visit castles at the weekend, but Sundays!"

The boy angled his torso to encroach on Natsume's space, his chin tilted upwards and his legs dangling off the bench.

"Sundays, I practice calligraphy!"

Saoirse bit her lip to keep from cackling and embarrassing her son again. Natsume had no choice but to give in.

"All right, bocchan. I shall teach you Japanese on holiday, if time permits."

"Eureka!" Aidan voiced his victory and fell back on his seat, grinning.