A Scone of Contention

by Lucy Burdette

  She broke into wrenching sobs, and Nathan met my gaze over her head.

  “I’m going to take her in. Will you and Gloria be all right?”

  “We could wait here for a boat or have the authorities bring in a stretcher,” I said tentatively to my friend.

  “Nonsense,” she said. “I can make the trek back to the hotel on my own two feet. In fact, I could do it on one leg, hands tied behind my back.” She and I chuckled, remembering a silly slapstick scene we loved from Monty Python. Then we watched Nathan bind Glenda’s wrists with his belt.

  “And by the way,” Miss Gloria told Nathan as he finished securing Glenda, “I am a very good swimmer. I was more in danger of drowning from the rescue effort.” She sounded a little bit huffy but softened her words with a smile. She started along the path leading to the keeper’s quarters, and I followed. After about ten minutes, we stopped to rest, and Nathan disappeared down the path with Glenda, with a firm grip on her bound wrists.

  While we rested for a few minutes, I looked my friend over carefully. She seemed a little tired. Other than that, she wasn’t bleeding much or bruised, and she appeared to have her wits about her—none the worse for the excitement.

  She noticed me watching and jutted her chin out a bit. “She must have thought I was a frail old lady who could be easily dispatched. She was about to jump in and try to hold my head underwater, but I think she lost her nerve. It turns out maybe she’s the one who can’t swim.”

  “Why did you agree to come here with her? When did you start getting suspicious of her intentions? Wait,” I said, realizing that I shouldn’t badger her. She ought to be saving her strength for the walk. And Nathan would want to hear everything she had to say, and probably the cops would too. “Don’t answer that. Let’s concentrate on getting you back to the hotel, into dry clothing, and with a hot drink and some breakfast.”

  When we reached the end of the path, an ambulance, a police car, and a small crowd were waiting. Nathan emerged from the crowd. “The police already whisked Glenda away to the station. Now, how about we get you medically checked out?”

  Miss Gloria waved away all the offers of help, insisting she was perfectly fine.

  “I refuse your kind concern,” she said. “All I need is time to take a shower, and then I’ll see you in the bar for breakfast. I’m famished. And I want to hear about everything that led up to this ridiculous event.”

  She stumped off in the direction of the hotel, obviously not wanting to miss the dénouement in which she had played a pivotal role.

  * * *

  When my friend appeared at breakfast, her hair tousled and damp, the waitress plied her with coffee and a heaped plate of steaming eggs and bacon, fresh scones on the side.

  As Miss Gloria tucked into her eggs, Helen broached the subject of returning right home to Edinburgh and skipping Iona. “First of all,” she said, I think you should be checked out by a real medical expert. I mentioned that yesterday, but today I have to insist. And second of all, you’ve got to be exhausted. It’s time to call it a day and go on home to Edinburgh. Vera and Ainsley have to finish their work, and William and I will stay on with them. Nathan can drive you and Hayley home.”

  Miss Gloria narrowed her eyes and stared my mother-in-law down. “There is not a ghost of a chance that I am missing Iona. I have read just about every book on the subject. It is possibly the thinnest place in Scotland. And please don’t tell me we’ll visit another time, because what are the chances I will be back here?”

  She looked around the table at each of us. And not one of us was willing to assure her she would have other chances. We were a long way from home, and she was not a young woman.

  “Although I’m hoping to return because we didn’t get to see Doune Castle or Falkland. And I’d love to get to the Highlands. Remember how beautiful Inverness looked in Outlander?” she asked. “Those scenes were filmed in Falkland, not Inverness.”

  I could only shake my head at the depth of her spunk.

  “Before we pack up and get ready to go, how about we all have a chat?” Nathan said, looking first at his sister and then at her friend, Ainsley. “I believe some explanations are owed. And I would like to hear the details of what happened this morning.”

  “I’ll start and then we can work backward. I should have known better,” said Miss Gloria. “I apologize for scaring you people to death. But I woke up early and was out taking a little stroll and chatting with Tobermory the cat. And then I ran into Glenda. And she told me how sorry she was about the experience with the goggles and that my distress was making them rethink the whole project.” She picked up the last slice of crispy bacon on her plate and crunched it down. “I shouldn’t have believed her because when has she sounded sorry about anything? But this time I believed she was completely sincere.”

  “She has a way of hiding her worst thoughts and feelings and looking innocent,” Vera said. “She always has. But go ahead, tell us the rest.”

  Miss Gloria took a sip of coffee. “Anyway, she said that there was a battle in this inlet, which I already knew, right, Hayley?”

  I nodded, reaching for a split scone and buttering it, then loading it with several strips of crisp bacon. Now that Miss Gloria was safe and my heart rate and pulse had receded to a normal level, my hunger had set in with a vengeance.

  “Glenda mentioned that as they’d done their research for the book. People often talked about their experiences here in Mull because it was known as a thin place. Especially”—she paused—“at the point by the lighthouse.” She let out a big sigh.

  “You would think being eighty something years old that I would not be quite so susceptible. But honestly, it was irresistible to see what she meant, and I figured I could leave if it got too intense. And as I told Hayley yesterday, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in hell that I’d wear any goggles. And to my knowledge, my ancestors weren’t involved in the battle, so I figured how bad could it be? The light was so beautiful, and I knew you all wouldn’t be up for a while. And my legs needed stretching, not to mention the fact that I’ve eaten like a linebacker all week. Hate to ruin my girlish figure.”

  She patted her stomach, paused again, and looked at each of the concerned faces around the table. “I feel like I’m a teenager explaining why I wrecked the family car or something, but I want you to understand that my decision to go with her wasn’t something dumb and impulsive.”

  She waited until each of us nodded that we understood what she’d said. Even if not all of us believed it. In fact, I could imagine the gears churning in Nathan’s head as he swore silently that he would never again leave either of us alone.

  “Then we walked to the lighthouse and along the way had the nicest chat about living in Key West on a houseboat,” Miss Gloria said. “Or so I thought. You’ll cringe when you hear this, but I even invited her to come visit.”

  “Wow,” I said, “she snowed you good.”

  “I feel like an idiot about that,” my friend said. “I like to think I’m a pretty shrewd judge of character. Anyway, then we arrived at the point at the end of the path. By the way, I don’t know if you noticed, but we could rent that sweet little house if we come for another vacation. The only problem is we’d have to get some muscle to carry our suitcases and our food in.”

  “I happen to know where we could find some muscle,” I said, laughing and running a hand down Nathan’s arm. “Keep talking: you got to the lighthouse …”

  “And that’s the point where I acted like a demented old fool. Glenda told me that I’d be able to see and feel things a whole lot better on the other side of the fence, right up next to the water. And she started to climb over and encouraged me to join her, and I did. In my defense, my antennae were thrumming, and I do believe I was getting vibes from the people who’d fought that battle. It’s kind of hard to explain what happens, but it’s like these people from history desperately want me to know the real story.”

  She rubbed a hand over her eyes, and I hoped
that describing all this now wasn’t too much for her. I was feeling a little queasy remembering how terrifying it had been to see her perched on the rocks and then shoved off.

  “By that time, Nathan and I had arrived and saw you with her on the jetty. I totally panicked,” I said.

  “Yeah, well, with good reason.” Her voice was glum. “I climbed over, and then she gave me a mean push. Let me assure you, that water is cold! And next thing you know, this big lug is splashing around in the drink with me, and I thought he might accidentally do me in.” She grinned at Nathan, who was shaking his head at the wonder of this old lady’s spunk.

  William came into the lobby from the street, spotted us in the breakfast area, and joined us at the table. “What did you find out?” Vera asked. She looked so worried—actually, she’d looked worried from almost the first moment I met her, and that had only gotten worse.

  He glanced around the table, his gaze lingering on his wife’s face. “Gavin insists he had nothing to do with this incident and that it wasn’t premeditated. He says Glenda acted on the spur of the moment. Everyone’s upset about the project, especially the two of them. I gather that Miss Gloria announcing she was going to contact the publisher and ask to put the whole thing on pause is what finally tipped Glenda over the edge. At first they thought you were a batty old lady and you could blather on and it wouldn’t make a difference.” He shifted his gaze to my friend. “Maybe she thought she could talk you out of that plan, or maybe she thought it was time to dispense with you altogether. She hasn’t confirmed that she meant to do you in.”

  “It seems obvious though, doesn’t it?” I asked.

  Miss Gloria grimaced and thunked her hand to her forehead. “I didn’t even think twice about saying that because they were so solicitous and reasonable on the ferry. I believed that they really cared how I was doing and regretted the whole goggles incident. I’ve acted like an idiot all week, as though my brains leaked out on the plane coming to Scotland.”

  “It’s not your fault,” said William. “Many things got under Glenda’s skin, and Gavin said she was wound really tight. She was afraid that the project would be canceled, and her husband would be shamed. And they stood to lose a lot of money, right?” He looked at Vera and then Ainsley for confirmation.

  “It’s true,” Vera said. “When Gavin got involved, our advance quadrupled.”

  “Actually, it was ten times the first offer,” Ainsley said, her voice flat.

  William turned back to Miss Gloria. “She must have got it in her head that if she could make you go away, things would go on as normal. Or that’s what Gavin was telling the cops. There’s probably more to it. And I don’t respect a man who’s willing to throw his wife under the bus.”

  “Thank goodness for that,” I said. “And there’s definitely more. She as much as admitted she shoved Joseph Booth off the wheel. It sounds as if she was desperately afraid of losing Gavin and would go to any lengths to protect him and his work.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I like recipes to be written the same way you would give driving directions to your house to people whom you really want to arrive.

  —Gabrielle Hamilton, “What I Learned from a Legend,” The New York Times Magazine, November 4, 2020

  We packed up the cars and, after a few minutes of jockeying, settled on Nathan driving one of the vehicles with Helen, Miss Gloria, and me as passengers. William, Vera, and Ainsley took the other, as the two women insisted they had a lot of thinking to do about whether and how they’d be able to salvage their project.

  “If you see a car in the distance on this road and the pull-off before it, you’d best use it. The tourists on this island have no idea what they’re doing,” Vera warned my husband. “I’d say remember to drive on the left, but there’s only one lane available. You can’t possibly get lost—keep driving until you get to the tiny ferry landing. That’s it.”

  We set off across the island, admiring the shades of green in the fields, dotted with white curly-haired sheep and furry brown Highland cows, with the blue ocean in the distance. Miss Gloria exclaimed about all of it, having missed the drive from the Oban ferry to Tobermory.

  “I swear, this is the most beautiful country I’ve ever seen.” She snickered. “My husband would have said that I say that about every place I visit, and that’s probably true. But for a small place, don’t they have everything? Mountains, oceans, animals, gorgeous stone ruins—amazing although violent history.” She reached over and squeezed my shoulder. “Thank you again for bringing me on your honeymoon. I will never forget this.”

  “You’re always welcome,” I said, smiling back at her. “I won’t forget it either. A week with only Nathan and me would pale in comparison.”

  Nathan snorted, glancing at her in his rearview mirror. “I’m only glad you survived it,” he added.

  “The curious thing about this whole expedition is that Gavin’s confession only solves about a tenth of the questions raised in one short week. For example, if Glenda was an attempted murderess, why in the world was she the one who got poisoned? And did she really push Joseph Booth off the Falkirk Wheel. And why?” I asked.

  Miss Gloria said, “Having been on the receiving end of a good shove from that woman, I wouldn’t put it past her to have done him in as well.”

  “So possibly Glenda was upset enough with a man she supposedly didn’t know, to the point she was willing to murder him?” I asked again. “I’m so curious to know what might have happened between them back in the days when these women were students.”

  “And I cannot understand for the life of me why my daughter and her friend Ainsley are keeping mum about all of this,” said Helen. “How could they have worked with a woman this closely over this much time and have no idea what she was up to? I agree with you, Hayley,” Helen added, “I don’t think we have a tenth of the story.”

  After almost an hour of a hair-raising drive on the one-lane road, we reached the parking area. We pulled in between two empty buses and started to walk toward the ferry landing. A blond boy wearing a black tracksuit was playing traditional Scottish music on the bagpipes. I felt a shiver of excitement as the little boat approached the dock.

  “I have a surprise for you,” Helen said to Miss Gloria as we waited in a short line to board. “I’ve arranged for a private tour of the ruins of the abbey and the nunnery, and the cemetery if we have time. You don’t have to come, of course—”

  Miss Gloria hugged her hard. “Perfect—I’m thrilled. Did you know that this island holds one of the best-preserved medieval nunneries in Britain?” she asked Nathan and me. “The space between the physical and the spiritual here is said to be as thin as tissue paper.” Looking tearful, she hugged Helen a second time.

  Helen blushed, seeming pleased, even though she was not a hugging sort of person. “Do you want to come along?” she asked Nathan and me.

  “I’m pretty sure Vera has a walk in mind for us,” I said. “But I can’t wait to hear about your tour.”

  Ainsley, Vera, and William arrived and got in line. “There’s a cute little restaurant when we walk off the dock,” Vera said. “If anyone is hungry after that big breakfast? Or we could meet up for a scone and tea after we explore the island?”

  “Let’s do that,” Miss Gloria said. “I can’t wait to get started.”

  The tiny ferry’s engine began to grind, and we hurried aboard for the five-minute ride to the island. We docked at a large cement pier, flanked by big rocks and water in shades of blue from turquoise to navy. Miss Gloria and Helen disembarked first and strode off in the direction of the Iona Abbey.

  “I’m going to sit in the coffee shop and make some calls and sketch out a new timeline,” Ainsley said to Vera. “This project is beginning to feel like pinning jelly to a wall. Text me when you’re on the way back, and I’ll get us a table on the patio outside.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Guilt isn’t always in the form of an upset stomach or elevated pulse. Some
times it’s the smooth texture of a truffle or as light as a drained bottle of cereal milk.

  —Saumya Dave, Well-Behaved Indian Women

  Vera led us on a path running south along the water until we reached a fork. We took the right turn that would cross the island. On either side were fenced-in areas of grass populated by grazing sheep. I stopped short, watching one ewe move across the grass on her front knees. Almost as if she was praying. The wonders of Scotland just kept coming. I took a short video in case Miss Gloria didn’t get to see this on the way to the abbey.

  “This grassy plain topography is called a machair,” William told us. “It’s a low-lying area, as you can see, and so in danger of flooding and erosion by sea level rise. If you keep going along the water, you’d reach the bay where St. Columba arrived in his coracle from Ireland, to bring Christianity to the Scottish heathens.” He laughed. “Isn’t there always someone attempting to convert the heathens?”

  “Coracle?” Nathan asked.

  “A round boat made of wicker and bound with leather,” William told him. “He would have needed God on his side to make it across St. George’s channel.”

  We trudged up a short hill and then down the path to a stunning beach made entirely of pebbles. Before the beach on a grassy area, someone had built a labyrinth made of pinkish rocks. I paused to take a deep breath and freeze the moment in my mind, so I’d remember this astonishing view and the feeling of sacred peace on the island. So far on this trip, I didn’t seem to have the knack for tingling in thin places. But this island was special.

  The four of us sat on the beach, sorting through the tumble of stones and looking out across the water. Hard to imagine that thousands of miles away, these same waves lapped ashore on the Smathers and Higgs and Fort Zachary Taylor beaches in Key West. The same water and environmental threats and human foibles connected us from island to island across all that distance. A gust of wind whipped across the bay, and I leaned into Nathan, as always appreciating his warm bulk. He helped me feel safe and grounded in so many ways.