by Joan Fleming
‘I’ll only need half an hour or so, and I’m not in a great hurry.’
Having thanked Elsa for the delicious meal, George and Anna set off for Benview. The sun was gradually moving lower on the horizon, although it was still bright.
‘This island is an artist’s paradise,’ she said, her eyes alive with excitement as George drove along the coast, with the sea on their right. ‘Look at the colours in that water: every shade of green and blue you can imagine.’ The sea was calm, with only the occasional glimpse of a flurry of white froth where no doubt there were rocks below the surface. Or could it be the sea-life for which the Hebrides were so famous? A seal perhaps? Or an otter?
‘Yes, it’s a bonnie island,’ George said. ‘Are you an artist yourself?’
It was the first time he had asked a direct question about her, and Anna was caught off-guard. Whilst she had no wish at this stage to disclose the main purpose of her visit here, there was no need to be secretive about her job.
‘Yes and no,’ she said at last. ‘I studied art and photography in college, but I’m not good enough to make a living out of either.’
George didn’t reply and they drove in silence for the short time it took to arrive at Benview, where he took Anna on a cursory tour of the cottage before he left.
CHAPTER 8
Alone for the first time since meeting George on the boat, Anna looked around the cottage. It was small, but had everything she needed: a living room with a kitchen in the corner, bathroom and two bedrooms, the smaller of which was furnished with a large double bed. The other bedroom was filled with cardboard boxes.
Unpacking only what was necessary; she heeled off her shoes and flopped onto the bed. Lying on her back, hands behind her head, she stared at the low ceiling, and asked herself yet again if she had made the right decision in coming to Mull. She had left the curtains of the bedroom open, borrowing light from the almost full moon. What would it be like if there were no moon? she wondered. Would it be completely dark? Or would there be sufficient light from the stars to make out the shapes of the furniture in the room?
Here she was, alone, in a part-renovated cottage on an island she knew next to nothing about, with no idea what she would do in an emergency. What if… what if… she suddenly developed an appendicitis? Supposing someone was lurking outside the cottage?
Her musing was interrupted by the ringing of her mobile phone. A glance at the illuminated screen told her it was Cindy. Again? She would have to answer it.
‘Hello, Cindy,’ she said.
‘Anna,’ the secretary said, and without preamble came straight to the point of her call. ‘Mel has been asked to make a presentation on The Lords of the Isles in six weeks, which means he will require your input earlier than previously agreed. Will that be possible?’
Anna said nothing for a moment while she swung her legs over the side of the bed. She was not prepared to conduct this conversation from a supine position.
Cindy’s peremptory tone sparked Anna’s defence mechanism into life. She was sure Mel MacDougall would not expect his request to be delivered in such a brusque manner when he was asking Anna to make an unexpected change to the agreement she had with him.
‘Anna, are you still there?’
Anna swallowed hard in an effort to control the irritation she could feel rising inside her.
‘Yes, I’m still here. Am I correct in thinking Mr. MacDougall would like to change the terms of the contract we have? And that he asked you to seek my agreement?’ The chill in her voice helped to cool the heat of her temper as she put the slightest of emphasis on the word you. Let Cindy interpret that one!
Her questions met with silence. Drumming her fingers on the bedside cabinet, but adding nothing to what she had said already, Anna waited for Cindy’s reply.
‘Er… yes. If that wouldn’t cause you any inconvenience, of course.’ The secretary’s tone had lost its sharp edges.
‘I shall have to look at my schedules,’ Anna said. ‘Mr. MacDougall is not my only client. There could be implications…’ She allowed her voice to tail off for maximum impact.
‘I understand. Would it be in order to contact you once you’ve had time to look into Mel’s request?’
‘I’ll ring you tomorrow,’ Anna said, determined to prevent Cindy from taking the initiative once again. She was about to say goodbye, but at that point, her mobile cut out and the screen went dark.
‘Damn!’ she muttered. She hadn’t charged it before she’d left home this morning.
Accepting that she would be unable to sleep until she calmed down, Anna got up from the bed and paced around the cottage, muttering to herself.
‘Who does she think she is? If she wants to change my contract, at least she should ask in a less aggressive manner. Why didn’t Mel ask me himself?’
About to pass the front door, she paused. She needed air. Swinging the door open, she walked out into the moonlight. The plaintive call of an owl in the distance – the only sound to break the silence – had a soothing effect on her as she looked up to the stars. The peak of Ben Mhor cut into the night sky, towering over the island, accentuating the power of the natural world in this place.
Anna became aware of how insignificant she felt compared with this vast creation of nature. A new perspective had been added to her worries of the moment. Looking down at her feet – she hadn’t stopped to put on shoes – she smiled at the way the spiky blades of grass had found the spaces between her toes. It was cool and damp underfoot, and she felt the urge to stay exactly where she was in order to leave the imprint of her feet on the ground of the island.
At last, calmer now, she went back into the cottage. Smiling, she recognised the irony of her reaction to Cindy’s request for a change to her contract with Mel: she herself had made the first change by coming to Mull before going to Islay. So, perhaps she had over-reacted, but that didn’t excuse Cindy’s superior tone.
All her unanswered questions were now tucked into a compartment at the back of her mind – they could wait till morning. But she would have to charge her mobile phone, or she would be out of contact with everyone. Locating her charger in a pocket of her rucksack, her fingers rubbed against a folded piece of paper in the same pocket. Her heart missed a beat when she remembered she had tucked the letter from her birth mother in there before leaving the flat.
Once she had found an electrical socket and set her phone to charge, she sat on the edge of the bed, and read the letter once again. There was no need; she had studied it so many times, she could recite it off by heart. Besides, there were so few words, yet for Anna they had cast a deep shadow over her life. But she felt as if some submerged need compelled her to find a way to emerge from the darkness. She was searching… for what? A hidden meaning that underlay the words?
But the letter was simple, made up of uncomplicated phrases which didn’t lend themselves to more than the obvious interpretation. Anna found herself trying to imagine what Janet Maclean looked like. Was she tall or short? What colour were her eyes? Her hair?
These questions floated around in her brain, like small fish swimming in a goldfish bowl, unconnected, but sufficiently active to intrude on her thinking… and her decision-making.
When deep voices could be heard outside the cottage the following morning, Anna jerked awake. She was surprised to find she’d been asleep at all, with all her thoughts of the night before playing leap-frog in her mind. The sun had found her bedroom, casting a gentle morning heat over her bed, encouraging her to drop off to sleep again. She breathed in the unfamiliar scented air of the island, revelling in its ability to permeate her body, clearing the city from her lungs and, she hoped, the turbulence from her mind.
The voices receded and were replaced with banging and clanking of the equipment of men at work. Remembering that Elsa had warned her there might be workmen around the cottage, Anna suddenly realised she might be visible, lying in bed with the curtains wide open. Jumping out of bed, she lowered the blind and set
about hunting in her luggage for a cover-up. Then she remembered. She hadn’t packed a dressing gown.
The night before, she’d had only a brief look around the cottage as it had been a long and tiring day. If she’d been in a more relaxed frame of mind, the journey could have been so enjoyable – no delays, and a variety of modes of transport: taxi, train, boat then George’s car. One glance at the bus in Craignure had made her realise how lucky she was that George had offered to run her to Fionnphort. It looked as if there would be standing room only.
Coffee. That’s what she needed. In the kitchen, she located the kettle and glanced around as she waited for it to boil. Everything looked new except the fireplace: shiny surfaces on cupboards and worktops contrasted with the range, which gave the impression it had been there for a hundred years. Perhaps it had? The sheen on its dark metal was certainly not the product of a modern factory, but rather the result of many hours of hard work. Tiny doors were no doubt evidence of a heated compartment behind, which Anna promised herself she would investigate later.
From a well-stocked cupboard, she extracted a jar of instant coffee, and five minutes later she was sitting at the small kitchen table with her steaming cup, attempting to take stock of how she had landed in this unforeseen location.
CHAPTER 9
Anna jumped when a knock at the door cut across the silence in the kitchen. It must be the workmen, she realised, although she hadn’t expected them to need entry to the inside of the cottage.
‘Mornin’, lady,’ said a smiling figure holding a kettle. ‘We were wonderin’ if we could have some hot water for our tea?’
‘Of course,’ Anna replied. ‘Come in.’
‘Oh no, I can’t come in – I’m covered in dust. If you don’t mind fillin’ the kettle for us…’
Anna used the time the kettle took to boil to slip into the jeans and sweater she’d worn the day before. Somehow, she didn’t think it would be acceptable to emerge from the cottage in her pyjamas. When she delivered the hot water to the workmen, she realised she needn’t have worried about any kind of dress code. There was no sign of human life or habitation as far as the eye could see. And the workmen – there were three of them – were more interested in their tea than in what she was wearing.
‘Is there anything else you need?’ she asked. ‘Milk, sugar?’
‘No thanks, lady. It’s only the hot water we’ll be wantin’.’
Anna had an almost irresistible desire to laugh. Lady! She’d never been called ‘lady’ in her life. Besides, it did sound ridiculous coming from a large, brawny, dust-covered Scotsman.
‘Please call me Anna,’ she said. ‘I’ll be here for a few days. What do you usually do for hot water if there’s no one here?’
‘Oh, we go in and help oursels – when there’s nobody livin’ here, that is. But this is a dirty job we’re doin’ right now, and with the inside bein’ all finished and cleaned up… I’m Jimmy, by the way. That’s Tom, and this is Lennie.’
‘Pleased to meet you,’ Anna said, conscious of the incongruity of formal introductions in these surroundings. The men mumbled something unintelligible, making it clear they wanted to make their tea before the water cooled.
She was aware that Jimmy was not local. The Glasgow accent was unmistakable, so different from the soft Highland burr of this part of Scotland.
Once she’d had her shower and changed into clean clothes, Anna sat down to study the maps and guides that were arranged in a magazine rack attached to the wall. When she noticed the location of the cottage had been marked with a large red dot, she realised how close she was to Fionnphort. She looked out of the windows, turned the map this way and that, and plotted her route.
As she walked in the direction of the village, she could feel the cool air against her cheeks. It was another beautiful day. An endless blue sky stretched across the horizon, broken only by a few white clouds which looked as if they could have been dotted on with a paint brush. For the moment, they were stationary, the wind lacking the power to move them on.
Anna had a great desire to breathe in the air, to feast her eyes on her surroundings and experience this island with all her senses, as she had done the night before. She passed a clump of pink scented thrift and bent to run her fingers over it and inhale its heady scent. She felt at one with this island, almost as if it had been lying in wait for her.
It was not long before she heard the movement of the sea, the continuous rhythm of the waves against the shoreline. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d been beside the sea. Since she’d left her parents’ home, she no longer accompanied her mum and dad on their occasional trips to the Ayrshire coast. Perhaps it was the absence of these visits that made her realise how much she loved the sea.
When Fionnphort came into view, she stopped in her tracks. Across the water from the ferry port was Iona Abbey. She’d seen pictures of it, read about it, heard about it, but all of that took on a patina of artificiality compared with the real thing. She felt as if the history, the spirituality, and the rugged beauty of the abbey were all present in that first sighting of it. She sat down on a boulder, contemplating, wanting the moment to go on; already fearful she would lose it. Why had she not made this journey before?
The arrival of a bus in the village interrupted her thoughts. Crowds of people climbed out and made their way to the ferry terminal, where the boat was waiting to take them across the Sound of Iona to the tiny island. It was a visit she must make while she was on Mull, but she needed some time to rearrange her thoughts before she did so. Strangely, the confusion she had felt before leaving home had evaporated since she’d arrived on the island. She wondered if it was the island air that had released the tension in her body and mind, giving her the freedom to think about what she had come here to do.
When she arrived back at the cottage, there was no sign of the workmen. Their equipment was still lying outside, giving her the impression they would return. She searched for the key in her anorak pocket, but realised the door was unlocked – a practice George had warned her about. Once inside, she realised she was hungry. Having had nothing but a cup of coffee earlier, she was attracted by savoury smells coming from the kitchen. Although there was no-one there, the saucepan on the range was hot, and a glance inside revealed vegetable soup. A note on the table read:
Soup for lunch. Bread in breadbin. Come for dinner tonight. Will call for you about 6pm.
Elsa
Anna smiled. How could she have been so lucky to be treated so well when she arrived unannounced on this island?
Once she had finished her lunch, she picked up her mobile to check if it was fully charged. She had two missed calls, both from Roddie.
‘Oh no!’ she said to the empty cottage. She had promised to ring him to let him know she’d arrived safely and found accommodation, but her irate conversation with Cindy the previous evening had pushed all thoughts of contacting Roddie out of her mind. She must ring him straight away.
He picked up immediately.
‘Anna,’ he said. ‘Is everything okay?’
‘Yes, Roddie. I’m so sorry I didn’t ring you last night. I had a call from America, from Cindy.’
‘Mel’s secretary?’
‘Yes. And then my phone ran out of charge. There’s no phone where I’m staying.’
‘Where are you staying?’
‘I’m near the village of Fionnphort, in a cottage called Benview.’
Anna went on to give Roddie a detailed account of how she had spent the previous day.
‘That all sounds as if it worked out well. I was a bit worried when you didn’t phone,’ he admitted.
‘Oh, Roddie, I’m really sorry. To be honest, I was so angry about Cindy’s phone call, I couldn’t think of anything else.’
‘The important thing is that you’ve found a place to stay. Why were you angry with Cindy?’
‘It’s hard to explain. I wish I could talk to you face-to-face, Roddie. I miss having you nearby to share my though
ts.’
‘And I miss you, Anna. But tell me about Cindy.’
Anna recounted her conversation with Mel’s secretary, and, as always, Roddie came up with a suggestion.
‘Would you like me to come to Mull to help you? If you’re planning to do research and look for your birth mother, there’s no way you’ll be able to deliver the project to Mel early.’
‘That would be wonderful, Roddie. But what about your work? You can’t simply abandon Flo, especially when she’s not well.’
‘Flo’s back in the office today. We’re both working over the weekend, so we should have the backlog cleared by Monday.’
‘That would be wonderful, Roddie. If you’re sure you can spare the time?’
‘I think it should be fine. Short of any last-minute crisis in the office. By the way, what will you be using to write up your results?’
‘My laptop,’ Anna said. ‘Yes, I know, I know. I left it behind. There’s wifi in the cottage, too, although the signal’s rather unreliable.’
‘Would you like me to bring it to you?’
She could visualise her laptop in its case tucked into the narrow space beside the coat-stand in the hall of the flat. She had forgotten to lift it. Probably because she had been carrying her new camera equipment.
‘Oh, Roddie, you’re such a good friend. That would be great. I left it—’
‘I know where you left it,’ he said, chuckling. ‘Don’t worry. I’ll bring it with me next week. You’ll have to content yourself with pen and paper till then.’
‘Thank you so much, Roddie. You’re an angel.’
CHAPTER 10
Although she was expecting Elsa when a car drew up outside the cottage, Anna was pleasantly surprised to see that it was George who had come to collect her.