Alastair Macleod 
Salt Spray 

‘At home, Jean his mother listened as they talked about the yacht.“It was the sea water, “said Callum.She began to mash the tatties. First she put in a lump of butter then some pepper. She reached for the ‘culprit’, the salt, and hesitating a moment sprinkled in the crystals.She mashed the turnip in a separate pot then blended them together working the mash with a fork to get it smooth.The haggis simmered on the stove, in its big pan. ‘Like a whale, ‘ Callum had said.She thought of Jimmy. They had split a month ago just as he was going back to sea.There had been a row but it was the culmination of a lot of things. He was supposed to help out when he was home, with the kids, with the house, but he went out with his mates – jobs didn’t get done.The washing machine had lain broken since he came off leave and he kept saying he would fix it but he never got round to it; but he had fixed Annie Herdman’s dishwasher.Over the last two years Jimmy’s behaviour had eaten away at Jean. The outer layer of bonhomie had soon stripped away soon after their marriage, for he almost immediately went to sea following the wedding. Then his coming and going gradually wore down the other layers; her brasses lost their sparkle, her eyes dimmed with spray’