by Joan Fleming
‘Hello again,’ he said, tapping her on the shoulder once she had fastened her seatbelt. ‘Did you have a good night’s sleep?’
‘Yes, I did. Thank you so much for rescuing me yesterday. I can’t think what I would have done if you hadn’t been there.’
‘I’m sure you’d have thought of something,’ he said with a smile.
He looked different this evening, younger even. Yesterday she would have reckoned he was about fifty, but perhaps forty-five would be nearer the mark. Without his jacket, she could see he was lean and muscular, the sort of physique you would see pounding the streets in the west end of Glasgow early in the morning as the keep-fitters covered their daily mileage. Maybe he ran ten miles a day over the moors in Mull? She didn’t think joggers would be welcome on the single-track roads here.
‘Should I lock this door?’ Anna asked.
He smiled. ‘If it makes you feel better. The workmen have a key.’
She shrugged her shoulders. ‘Old habits die hard,’ she said, turning the key in the lock.
‘So, how have you spent your day,’ he asked, once they were on their way.
‘I went out for a walk this morning,’ she said. ‘Then this afternoon I’ve been reading through some of the information in the cottage. I know next to nothing about Mull, so this corner seems a good starting point.’
When he didn’t say anything, she continued, ‘I left home in a bit of a hurry. My original plans were… were disrupted by events. I had to make a quick decision. I’d planned to come to Mull at a later date, but decided on the spur of the moment to make the journey now. That’s why I’m so badly prepared.’ She delivered her words in short staccato sentences in her rush to hide her embarrassment at her lack of forward-planning. ‘You must have thought I was—’
‘I didn’t think you were anything. Except a stranger who looked as if she could do with a bit of help.’
When they arrived at Lochside, Elsa came out of the kitchen to greet them. Tucking a stray wisp of hair into her bandana, she directed them to the same table where they had sat the previous evening, now set for four.
‘Amy and Sandy will be joining you tonight,’ she said. ‘But they may be a bit late. Would you like your meal now? Or…?’
‘I’m in no hurry,’ George said. ‘What about you, Anna?’
‘Same for me. I’ve no plans for the evening.’
‘We’ll wait till the others arrive then, Elsa.’
Anna looked around her. More rested now than the previous night, she was better able to appreciate her surroundings. The dining room had six tables, half of them occupied and the others with Reserved cards on them.
‘It’s fully booked,’ Anna said. ‘Is it always as busy as this?’
‘At this time of year, yes,’ George replied. ‘It falls away a bit once the summer season is over, and Elsa and Charlie take a couple of weeks off in the winter. The locals keep the place going, and we use it for all sorts of activities: meetings, parties, weddings even. The couple who are joining us tonight had a celebration of their wedding here, although that took place outside. It was a lovely day.’
Voices in the hall suggested that more customers had arrived. It seemed from the snippets of sound reaching the dining room that the newcomers were well known, and they made straight for the table where George and Anna were sitting.
‘Hello, George. Good to see you. And this must be Anna. Welcome to Mull,’ the young woman said, shaking Anna by the hand. ‘I’m Amy, and this is my husband, Sandy.’
‘And we’re both starving,’ Sandy said. ‘What’s Elsa got for us tonight?’
With introductions over, George kept the flow of conversation going, giving Anna the opportunity to relax. In no time, she felt as if she had known these people for years. As the evening advanced through three courses, culminating in a dessert of bramble meringues, she discovered that Amy and Sandy had both visited the island in their youth, but had only returned to live here comparatively recently.
‘We have two houses,’ Amy said, in response to a question from Anna. ‘That makes us sound like spoiled brats. I inherited my grandmother’s cottage and Sandy fell heir to a family home, too. That’s where we decided to live when we were married, but I still run my business – I’m an accountant – from Columb Cottage. I’m from Glasgow originally.’
‘We can’t decide what to do with the houses until I know if I’ll have a job here,’ Sandy said. ‘I’m on a temporary contract, so we’ll make a decision once that expires.’
‘Or is renewed,’ Amy added. ‘That’s happened once already, but who knows?’
‘Sandy’s a doctor,’ George explained. ‘And we certainly need him here for the summer. We have to have medical services available for the season, when we have so many tourists on the island.’
‘And, what about you, Anna? What’s your interest in Mull?’
Anna felt her heart rate increase, but she was not yet ready to share the personal reason she had come to Mull. Fortunately, Elsa came in at that point, which spared Anna the necessity to respond.
‘That meal was delicious, Elsa,’ Amy said. ‘I loved the venison.’
‘I agree,’ Anna said. ‘Thank you so much once again.’
Elsa smiled. ‘I’m glad you all enjoyed it.’
Anna began to feel slightly guilty. Until she’d met George, she had no idea any of these people existed. Their kindness was overwhelming, yet she didn’t feel she could to take them into her confidence about the search for her birth mother. If only Roddie were here, perhaps he would be able to advise her?
CHAPTER 11
‘Do you know much about the Lords of the Isles?’ Anna asked George. He had arrived at Benview to deliver a box of provisions from Elsa – fresh milk and something that smelt as if it had just been taken out of the oven. Cake, perhaps?
‘Any Lord in particular?’ he asked.
‘Did any of them come to this part of the island?’
Since she was near Fionnphort, for the moment at least, she had decided that she would concentrate her thoughts on a visit to Iona and her research into the Lords of the Isles. The longer she’d thought about it, the more she’d realised that the timing of the research was not as important as she’d first thought. Yes, she would be putting the cart before the horse, but did that matter? She would have to edit carefully when she put everything together, but to deviate from her original time-plan would not be critical. Especially when she was here, on the Isle of Mull, from where she could actually see the Island of Iona. It was too good an opportunity to miss.
‘Do you mean the CalMac ferry, or the man himself?’ In spite of his serious tone, Anna had spent enough time in his company to realise he was teasing.
‘As it happens, I didn’t know there was a ferry called The Lord of the Isles. Does she sail to Mull?’
‘Her usual timetable takes her from Oban to the islands of Coll, Tiree, Barra, and South Uist.’
Anna now remembered seeing that information on the internet when she had been searching for initial background on her subject.
‘I’m ashamed to say I’ve never been to any of those islands,’ Anna said.
‘Well, it’s a good idea to start here on Mull,’ George said. ‘And maybe Iona. But I don’t think that’s what you meant. I know a bit about the Lords of the Isles, but Finn’s your man. He knows more about the history of the islands than many of the people who’ve lived here for years.’
‘I think I’ll settle for a trip to Iona today,’ she said. ‘I’d like to see the Abbey, and also look at St Oran’s Chapel. Unfortunately, I left my laptop with my notes at home, but my friend Roddie is coming to Mull next week. He’ll bring everything I need.’
‘It’s a grand day for a trip to Iona,’ George said. ‘A bit of wind, but that won’t hold you back.’
Anticipating the cool breeze off the sea, Anna zipped up her jacket before she left the cottage, but the wind was gentler than she expected. The contrast between the warmth of the sun on her cheeks and the slig
ht chill in the air gave her an unexpected feeling of wellbeing.
Once she started to walk across the moor, she felt the blood zing through her veins. The peaty soil beneath her feet added a spring to her steps, and although she had only recently arrived, she felt comfortably relaxed in her surroundings.
When she reached the road leading down to the pier, she could see the ferry making its way across the Sound of Iona towards Fionnphort. Behind it, on the smaller island, stood Iona Abbey. She stopped for a moment to take in the view. Was it only because she knew of the history of this special place with its links with St. Columba that her heart gave a lurch? Or was it the sheer awe-inspiring grandeur of the building that brought her to a halt? For some, she knew, it was the most special place in the world.
As she walked down to the ferry terminal, Anna was aware of how free she felt. There was little chance of meeting anyone she knew in the bunches of tourists heading in the same direction, chatting, clearly excited at the prospect of crossing to this famous island with its majestic abbey.
When the ferry docked at the pier on Iona, Anna felt a lump rise in her throat. She hadn’t expected to react with so much emotion. Despite the chatter on the boat – and even some jokes by the crew – the other passengers fell silent as they stepped ashore. No doubt for many this was hallowed ground, and this short sea journey was the final stage of a pilgrimage from far and near to the place where St Columba had brought Christianity to Europe all those hundreds of years ago.
Anna wondered if even those with no spiritual motivation to visit the island would be imbued with the calm of the place. Although it was the historical interest that had prompted her journey here, she was not immune to the spiritual resonance of this small island. It was indeed a Holy Isle.
She decided to have a coffee in the restaurant before she explored the island. The Abbey and the buildings around the main structure didn’t look far away, but a short stop gave her the opportunity to study the information brochure on Iona which she had found in the cottage.
Before she set off, she paused to look back over to Mull. The village of Fionnphort was clearly visible across the water, as were its small sandy beaches. The idyllic scene was one she would have loved to capture on her camera – the light was perfect – but she would have to make do with a picture from her mobile phone. She rebuked herself for leaving her camera in the cottage - how could she have been so careless?
As most of her fellow passengers were heading for the abbey itself, Anna made her way to the building whose name was fixed in her mind: St Oran’s Chapel. She had no difficulty locating it using the map she’d found in Benview, although she scarcely needed directions. She turned into the walled graveyard in which the little chapel was set. ‘Dating back to around 1150,’ she read on the information tablet, ‘it is the oldest building still standing on the island.’
By the time Anna arrived at the ornate doorway of the chapel, she was alone. Although her original intention had been to begin her research into the Lords of the Isles on Islay, from where they operated, there was no reason why she shouldn’t start in a burial place – and work backwards.
‘Well, if it isn’t Anna Ballantyne!’
Anna jumped at the sound of a voice in the silence. Turning round, she saw it was Finn Ericson, who had shared part of the journey from Craignure in George’s car two days before. His eyes were crinkling against the sun, so that she was still unable to confirm their colour, but she had not forgotten his smile. He wore a chunky forest green anorak which looked as if it had been handed down through several generations.
‘Sorry. Did I give you a fright?’
‘I didn’t realise there was anyone else here,’ Anna said, attempting to recover her composure.
‘If I’d known you’d be here, we could have come together,’ Finn said. ‘I’m here to check up on some of the exhibits in the Abbey Museum. I recognised you as I was on my way there. Have you already been into the abbey?’
‘No, not yet. I wanted to visit this chapel first.’
‘Anything I can do to help?’ he asked. ‘I know a bit about it, because I’ve been here often and I’ve read about it in the history books.’
‘I’m researching The Lords of the Isles,’ Anna explained. ‘Do you know anything about them?’
Finn smiled. ‘A certain amount,’ he said. ‘I accompany groups of visitors round Mull and Iona, and sometimes they ask about the Lords.’
Anna wondered how she would be able to concentrate on her mission with this handsome young man beside her. And if they went into the tiny chapel together, he would be even closer. Would there be enough space for two of them inside at the same time?
‘Much of the history of the chapel is speculation,’ Finn began. ‘It’s the oldest original building still standing on the island, dating back to about 1150.’
‘So, it’s older than the abbey?’
‘Yes. It was probably the warlord Somerled, that founded the “Kingdom of the Isles”, who was responsible for the building of the chapel. Somerled styled himself the “King of the Isles”, and ruled his kingdom of islands until he died in 1164.’
Finn, his eyes alight with enthusiasm, delivered the information with the assurance of a historian.
‘You obviously know a lot about it. How can you remember the details and produce them like that? After all, you didn’t expect you’d be telling me about this today, so you weren’t prepared.’
‘True, but most of my groups of visitors want to come to Iona, and they ask about the chapel, so I’ve done a bit of homework on it.’
Anna smiled. ‘Which makes you a kind of unofficial tourist guide?’
‘You could say that, but don’t expect me to know the answers to all the questions you might ask. I have snippets of information which I can produce at the drop of a hat, but that’s about it.’
‘Enough for me to be going on with,’ Anna said.
‘Let’s go inside.’ Finn steered her gently through the ornate doorway. Anna was drawn immediately to the most striking element of the otherwise unadorned chapel: the elaborate tomb recess.
‘That was built in the late 1400s,’ Finn told her. ‘It’s thought that the kings of Scotland lay there before they were buried in Reilig Òdhrain, the graveyard outside.’
There were grave-slabs round the walls, and some on the flagged floor.
‘Some of these marked the graves of the Sea Kings, as they were known.’
‘This place is really steeped in history,’ Anna said. ‘If I’d known all this was here, I’d have visited long ago.’
‘The important thing is you’re here now.’
‘Yes,’ she said, but she knew it was a coincidence which had brought her to Mull rather than the Isle of Islay, from where the Lords ruled their kingdom and which she had reckoned was more important for her project.
‘Tell me, Finn: were they ‘Lords of the Isles’ or ‘Kings of the Isles’?’
‘The two names appear to be interchangeable, although it can be a bit confusing. Opinions vary.’
That was a question which no doubt many tourists had asked him.
Anna looked around once again. The light coming in through the small windows was not bright enough for suitable photographs, but she would be able to capture the layout of the chapel on her mobile phone. This would remind her later when she came to take notes for the project.
‘I’ll have to come back,’ she said. ‘And next time I’ll bring my camera with me.’
‘Is it fancy? Your camera, I mean. All bells and whistles?’
‘It’s a lot more sophisticated than a mobile phone, but I could easily have spent ten times as much as I did on a camera. I bought the best I could afford. Making sure it was one I could carry, of course.’
‘If you’re coming back, I could be your camera carrier,’ he offered, widening his eyes and tilting his head slightly. ‘If you’d like me to, of course.’
‘Now there’s an offer that would be hard for a girl to refuse.’ Anna
stopped clicking her mobile and smiled. ‘But haven’t you got more important things to attend to?’
‘Nothing that would give me greater pleasure.’
He’s flirting with me, Anna thought. But I’m rather enjoying it. She wondered how old he was – sometimes he looked like a teenager, but she was sure he was much older.
‘There are more carved stones in the new museum,’ Finn said. ‘Would you like to see them?’
‘Yes, I’d like that.’
A short walk brought them to the new museum, which had been created within the last few years.
‘There are about 50 carved stones in here,’ Finn explained. ‘They’ve all been restored and are displayed around the walls.’
Once they walked in, Anna was immediately aware of the contrast between St Oran’s Chapel and this new setting for the historic carved stones.
Continuing her efforts to capture as much as she could on her mobile, she turned, panning round the walls, attempting to reproduce the atmosphere of the area in addition to the detail on the stones. Suddenly, she felt slightly dizzy and clicked off her mobile.
‘That’s the stone of Princess Anna Maclean,’ Finn said.
‘Who?’
‘She was…’
But the rest of Finn’s words were lost to Anna. A buzzing in her ears drowned out all sound; her giddiness increased, her upper lip was moist as she felt the blood draining from her face. Her surroundings receded from her as though a mist had descended. Her mobile slipped from her hands and, as if from a distance, she heard it drop to the stone floor. Her legs felt like jelly, and she swayed, dimly aware that the gravestones under her feet were coming closer.
‘I’ve got you,’ a voice said. ‘Lean on me.’
As she slumped towards him, grateful for his support, her vision began to clear.
‘Let’s get you out into the fresh air,’ Finn said. ‘Put your arm round my neck.’
They struggled out of the building, and Finn helped her to sit on a wall outside.