Daughter of Mull

by Joan Fleming

  Shouts from the shore filled the air, mingling with the excited chatter of passengers gathered on deck to watch the sail-away. In an instant, Anna’s window of opportunity to change her mind closed down; the boat pulled away from the ferry terminal, heading across the Firth of Lorne towards the island of Mull.

  ‘Over here, lass,’ a man called, making a space beside him at the guard rail. ‘The kids’ll mow you down if you stand there.’

  Realising she would be more conspicuous if she refused or ignored him, Anna covered the distance between them in a few strides.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, grasping the rail.

  ‘The youngsters are so excited – they’re going home for the weekend. The boat’s busy and they don’t know where to put themselves, so they’re a bit wild.’

  As if to prove his point, a group of young people whizzed past, shouting to each other at the tops of their voices, narrowly avoiding knocking Anna’s luggage over.

  ‘You’ll be a foot passenger?’ the man asked. He had the piercing blue eyes which Anna always associated with sailors – though why, she couldn’t say.

  ‘Yes,’ Anna replied. ‘I booked at the last minute. I didn’t realise the boat would be so busy.’

  ‘Aye. On a Friday in the summer, there must be close on a thousand passengers on board. And the car deck will likely be full.’

  ‘I’m going to catch a bus when we arrive,’ Anna explained. She didn’t think this was the moment to say she was already toying with the idea of staying on the boat for its return journey to Oban.

  The man stretched out his hand.

  ‘George Campbell,’ he said. ‘Is this your first visit to Mull?’

  ‘Anna Ballantyne,’ she replied, as they shook hands. ‘Yes, my first trip to the Hebrides. First time in Oban, too. Do you live on the island?’

  ‘Aye, that I do. I’m a Mulleach. A Mull man, born and bred.’

  Anna loved the way the lilting accent of the Highlands coated George’s words with softness, making them sound almost like poetry. From the way he squared his shoulders, she could detect the fierce pride he had in his island and his status as a Mulleach.

  As the boat pulled further away from Oban, the landmark of McCaig’s Tower – the magnificent, partly completed edifice – stood out on the skyline. It was like a sentinel keeping watch over the town below.

  ‘I’ve seen that tower on lots of illustrations of Oban,’ Anna said. ‘It reminds me of pictures of the Colosseum in Rome. Why was it built?’

  George smiled. ‘John Stuart McCaig certainly didn’t have gladiators in mind when he commissioned it. Its purpose was said to be two-fold: firstly, to mark his success as a banker, but also to provide employment for local builders. No further work was done on the Tower after McCaig died in 1902, so it certainly doesn’t have the long history of the Colosseum.’

  ‘I suppose it’s a popular place for tourists to visit?’

  ‘Aye, and there are wonderful views in all directions from the top.’

  As the boat moved out into the Firth, George turned slightly, and pointed out the small island of Kerrera and, behind it, the mountains of the Isle of Mull.

  Anna felt her heartbeat quicken as she gazed at the vista which stretched across the horizon. There it was: the island that had filled her mind, muddling her thoughts in recent days. What did Mull have in store for her once she arrived?

  ‘I’d offer to buy you a coffee, but it’ll be so busy down there, we’d probably just reach the top of the queue as we arrive in Craignure. Where are you heading on your bus?’

  ‘I’m going to Fionnphort.’ She pronounced it Fee-on-fort.

  George laughed. ‘That’s how every stranger says it. It’s actually Finn-e-fort. I think you’ll find quite a few words here that don’t sound the way you expect.’

  ‘Does everyone speak Gaelic, then?’ Anna felt her stomach tighten as she considered the prospect of spending time in an area where everyone conversed in a foreign language she didn’t understand.

  ‘Oh, don’t worry,’ he said. ‘We all speak English. Most of the older people speak Gaelic among themselves. As do the young ones who have stayed on the island. But we depend on tourists for our economy, so we communicate with them in English.’

  As the fifty-minute crossing drew to an end, a voice on the PA system called on passengers to return to their cars.

  ‘My car’s parked at the terminal,’ George explained. ‘If you’re prepared to accept a lift from a stranger, I’ll be happy to drive you to Fionnphort.’

  ‘Is that where you’re going? Fio-Fionnphort?’

  ‘I’m going to Bunessan, and Fionnphort’s only a few miles further on. Are you heading for Iona, then?’

  ‘Yes. Well… not exactly… I’m, er… doing a bit of exploring.’ Anna’s last few words came out in a rush. She was hesitant to tell George – or anyone else, for that matter – the real reason she was on her way to Mull, no matter how friendly he was.

  But her problem lay in the fact that she wasn’t sure herself what her intentions were. A visit to Iona to do some research and take photos for her project? Even though she was ill-prepared, having concentrated her work so far on the Isle of Islay?

  Besides, even fuelled by a desire to find out about her birth mother and the reason she had refused to meet her, Anna had no idea how she would set about putting that wish into practical operation.

  Anna would have struggled to give anyone a logical reason for this sudden, unplanned visit. No forward thinking. No advance arrangements. Whilst her birth mother’s letter had prompted her change of plan, it certainly did not explain the intensity of her emotional reaction. It was almost as though she had a deep longing to be closer to her birth mother; as if somehow the island itself were calling her, in spite of Janet’s rejection. Whimsical, yes. But powerful, nonetheless.

  Fifteen minutes later, with her luggage stowed in the boot, Anna was about to climb into George’s car. She had been slightly apprehensive when they reached the ferry terminal in Craignure – should she be accepting a lift from a stranger? But it was clear from the way the ferry staff greeted George that he was well-known in the port. And just as they disembarked, he had met an elderly woman who was going to join them for at least part of the journey. George introduced her as Murdina.

  ‘My parents wanted a boy,’ she told Anna, ‘and they planned to call him Murdo, but they got a girl. So, I’m Murdina. It means “sea warrior”. Me? A sea warrior?’ She chuckled, no doubt because she’d spent many years happily giving the explanation of her totally unsuitable name.

  ‘I’ll sit in the back,’ Anna said.

  ‘Not at all, my dear. You must sit in the passenger seat, so George can point out all there is to see on the journey. I’ll have a quiet snooze at the back.’

  Once George had fastened his seat belt, he turned to Anna.

  ‘Do you have somewhere to stay when we arrive in Fionnphort?’ he asked. ‘I can’t simply drop you off at the side of the road.’

  ‘Er… no, but I’m sure I’ll find somewhere. I’m not looking for a five-star hotel or anything.’

  A gurgle of laughter from the back of the car met Anna’s remark.

  ‘That’s as well, lass, because you certainly won’t find one in Fionnphort,’ Murdina said. She tapped George on the shoulder. ‘What about Lochside? Elsa might have a room.’

  ‘Mull’s so busy at this time of year,’ George said. ‘Especially in the south-west. So many tourists are keen to visit Iona while they’re here.’

  ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance,’ Anna said. She felt foolish, but didn’t think she should explain to these two strangers that her behaviour was totally out of character.

  ‘You’re not a nuisance at all,’ George said. ‘Would you like me to phone Lochside – it’s a guest house near Bunessan – to see if they have a room? It would be better if you book somewhere before we set off.’

  ‘Would you do that? Please?’

  ‘Of course, I will,’ Geo
rge said. ‘I have the number in my mobile.’

  A moment or two later, he was engaged in conversation with someone at the guest house.

  ‘Hello, Elsa? It’s George Campbell here… yes, I’m grand, thank you. No, I’m in Craignure, about to drive home. Do you by any chance have a room free for a young lassie I met on the boat? Yes, for tonight. You’re completely full?’ He paused, nodding his head from time to time. ‘Hold on a minute, Elsa, while I ask her.’

  ‘I thought they might be fully booked,’ Murdina muttered. ‘Does Elsa have a suggestion?’

  ‘Yes,’ George said. ‘Benview. Kirsty offered it to Elsa as overflow accommodation for the next few weeks.’

  ‘Is the work on the cottage finished, then?’ Murdina asked.

  ‘Not quite, but it’s habitable. And if Anna doesn’t mind having a few workmen around, it would at least give her a bed for the night,’ George replied.

  ‘I’ll take it,’ Anna said, without giving George the opportunity to give her any details.

  ‘Not so fast, Anna. You should know a bit more about it before you—’

  ‘If you recommend it, that’s enough for me,’ she replied. ‘I shouldn’t have left in such a hurry without making any arrangements for accommodation. Should I pay in advance?’

  ‘You can sort all that out with Elsa when we arrive. I’ll tell her you’ll take it, and then we’ll be on our way.’

  As George resumed his call to Lochside, Murdina chatted with Anna.

  ‘Benview belongs to a young couple who are having it renovated. They’ve stayed at Lochside for a few nights from time to time when one or other of them comes up to see how the work is going. I’m sure you’ll be quite comfortable.’

  ‘I’m only grateful George has found me accommodation. I don’t know what I’d have done if I hadn’t met him.’

  ‘Oh, someone else would have sorted you out. We can always find a way to help a stranger in Mull.’

  Just as the trio were about to set off on the road to Fionnphort, a figure appeared at the driver’s side of the car and knocked on the window.

  ‘Any room for a spare passenger?’ asked a tall, young man. ‘The bus is packed to the gunwales, and I have to collect my car.’

  ‘Finn!’ George said, smiling warmly at his latest passenger. ‘Hop in. There’s space beside Murdina in the back. Have you any luggage?’

  ‘No,’ the man answered.

  ‘That’s as well,’ Murdina said. ‘There wouldn’t be enough room for all that diving equipment you carry around.’

  The man slipped into the back seat and closed the door. ‘Nice to see you again, Murdina.’

  In the vanity mirror above her seat, Anna saw him plant a kiss on the old lady’s cheek.

  ‘I had plans for a quiet sleep at the back here,’ Murdina said, ‘but I’ll have to chat to you now you’re here.’

  ‘Oh, go on, you’ll love every minute of it,’ Finn laughed, nudging her conspiratorially. ‘Unless, of course, I turn my attention to the lovely young lady at the front.’

  ‘This is Anna,’ George said. ‘And you’d better behave yourself or she’ll be getting a bad impression of the island.’

  ‘I’m on my best behaviour,’ he said, sitting up straight as if to emphasise his good intentions.

  ‘And this is Finn Ericson. He’s decided he likes island life better than spending all his time in the big city,’ George explained. ‘So, we see a lot of him.’

  Anna turned in her seat to say hello. For a moment, the image of the young man who had moved in behind her chased all mundane thoughts of accommodation from her mind. Oh, he was handsome, with a wide, slightly crooked smile.

  ‘All your seat belts on?’ George asked, as he again prepared to set off.

  ‘One minute,’ Finn answered. Before he settled, he had leant forward, resting his arms on the back of Anna’s seat. She caught sight of him briefly in the vanity mirror: silvery blond hair flopping over his forehead, green eyes – or were they blue? With a slight movement, he would be able to put his arms round her shoulders, and she was surprised to find that idea attractive. She looked away, conscious that he could be aware of her interest in him.

  A moment or two later, she stole another glance in the mirror, but Finn, seat belt now on, was deep in conversation with Murdina. Although she couldn’t see him, she was able to inhale the scent of him, which filled the car; it was a sharp mixture of the sea with undertones of crushed pine needles.

  Finn Ericson. Not a name she would associate with a native of a Scottish island.

  It was late-afternoon, and the sun was still high in the sky when the group left Craignure. The rain promised by the weather forecasters had not materialised, and Anna settled herself comfortably in the passenger seat, looking forward to seeing the island for the first time. They had covered only a short distance when regular breathing from behind made it clear that Murdina had lost no time in dropping off to sleep.

  ‘On our left is Duart Castle,’ George told Anna, keeping his voice low so as not to disturb their back-seat passenger.

  ‘Yes, we saw it from the other side as we approached Craignure, didn’t we?’ Anna said.

  ‘But I didn’t say much about it. It’s the seat of the Maclean clan, and...’

  At the mention of the name Maclean, Anna stopped listening. Her heart gave a lurch as her thoughts returned to one of the reasons she was on the Isle of Mull.

  CHAPTER 7

  The woman standing in welcome at the door of Lochside Inn must be Elsa, the owner of the guest house, Anna surmised.

  ‘Hello, George,’ she said, smiling, giving him a hug.

  ‘Only two of you? What about Finn and Murdina?

  ‘We dropped both of them off in Pennyghael,’ George said. ‘Finn’s in a B&B there at the moment.’

  ‘It’s been ages since we last saw you, George. What far-flung corner of the world did you reach this time?’

  ‘We were in the Caribbean, island-hopping,’ George answered. ‘That cousin of mine loves the heat.’

  ‘A different experience from hopping around the Hebrides, I imagine.’

  ‘Yes and no… but I still can’t persuade him to come to the Hebrides. Anyway, more of that another time, Elsa. This is Anna. We met on the boat, and, as you know, she needs accommodation. You said Benview would be available?’

  ‘Hello, Anna. Welcome to Mull. I’m sorry I can’t offer you a room here at Lochside, but we’re fully booked. We have the use of Benview, though; it’s a cottage that’s almost ready for occupancy. The bed’s made up and the cupboards are stocked, but you can take your meals here, if you wish. There’s a bicycle over there you can use. There’s also a car available, but you would have to arrange that with the owners… the insurance and all.’

  ‘Thank you so much,’ Anna said. She was overwhelmed with the instant friendship of the islanders. Clearly, the fact that George had brought her here was security enough for Elsa.

  ‘You’ll be needing a meal now. There’s a bathroom at the end of the hall where you can freshen up. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes.’ She turned to walk away, then hesitated. ‘Oh, I nearly forgot. There’s a dog called Bess who sometimes comes around the cottage, and likes to sleep there. You never know when she’ll turn up. I hope you don’t mind dogs. She’s very friendly.’

  When she emerged from the bathroom, Anna looked around the hall where each door had a sign. She picked out the one marked Dining Room and walked in to find that the tables were already set up for dinner. Two were occupied, each with four people, and all the others had a Reserved notice on them. Anna stood for a moment, wondering what she should do, but she was rescued by George who came in immediately behind her.

  ‘Come and join me at this table by the window,’ he said.

  ‘But it’s reserved,’ Anna said.

  ‘Yes, for us. Elsa always keeps this table for locals who are happy to sit with each other or with any visitors who haven’t booked.’

  ‘So, this i
s a restaurant as well as a guest house?’ Anna asked.

  ‘Yes. Elsa’s a fabulous cook – Lochside’s really a restaurant with a few bedrooms,’ George said, picking up the menu and handing it to Anna.

  ‘Leek and potato soup, local fresh salmon, pan-fried, with sauté potatoes and a platter of vegetables; followed by pear tart served with fresh cream or custard,’ Anna read. ‘Sounds good to me.’

  ‘I hope you’re hungry, Elsa doesn’t skimp on the portions she serves.’

  ‘I certainly am. I’m looking forward to this meal,’ she said. ‘Is there much fishing for salmon here?’

  ‘Yes, salmon, crab… You’ll never be without salmon if you have a fisherman friend in Mull.’

  As the cooking smells from the kitchen wafted through to the dining room, Anna realised she hadn’t eaten much since breakfast. Her whole day seemed to have been wrapped in a parcel of unreality: she hadn’t planned to come here, she knew little about the island, yet everything had just fallen into place for her – transport, arrangements for accommodation, and now this meal being prepared for her. It was as if some force, stronger than she was, had taken control of her. Was she destined to come to this place?

  ‘I really enjoyed that,’ Anna said, smiling at George as he drained his coffee cup. ‘Thank you so much for helping me today. I would never have arrived here if it wasn’t for you.’

  ‘My pleasure,’ he said, returning the smile. ‘Happy to help. Besides, you’ve been great company.’

  ‘And now I must find my way to Benview.’

  ‘I’ll run you there.’

  ‘But, won’t that take you out of your way?’