by Joan Fleming
‘Our visit will take you to the Wrecks Room, through the dungeons to the staircase leading to the upper floors,’ the guide told them.
The Wrecks Room offered illustrated information on wrecks of ships which had gone down in the waters surrounding the island, including HMS Swan – the ship sent by Oliver Cromwell to quell the warring Highlanders, which sank in 1653 near Duart Point.
‘The wreck is still down there,’ the guide said, ‘and it is now designated a Marine Historic Protected Area. Divers from the Lochaline Dive Centre near here are permitted to dive under licence. They can observe, but they’re not allowed to disturb the wreck.’
Anna found her thoughts briefly straying to Finn. Had he ever dived at Duart Point? He’d told her that it was his interest in diving that had first brought him to the Dive Centre at Lochaline, and led to his exploration of Mull and Iona.
But it was Roddie, not Finn, who took hold of her hand as they walked through the eerie atmosphere of the dungeons, leading to the stone staircase which gave access to the upper floors.
‘Be careful on these steps,’ Roddie said, following Anna up the spiral stairway. Fortunately, there was support in the form of a thick twisted rope as they mounted the uneven steps.
On the upper floor, they viewed a bedroom and the drawing room, where portraits round the walls displayed the Lairds of Duart.
‘The present Laird, Sir Lachlan Maclean, lives in the private part of the building when he’s in residence with his family, usually during the school holidays,’ the guide explained.
Showcases displaying weapons – daggers and guns – highlighted the history of the wars among the clans through the centuries.
A further staircase led to the top of the keep, where they gasped at the panoramic views of the surrounding land and sea. The rain had stopped, and Anna took advantage of the brighter weather to take a few photographs.
‘On a clear day, you can see up Loch Linnhe and even as far as Ben Nevis,’ the guide told them. As if to prove her words, the sun obliged by appearing for a few moments. Anna clung to Roddie, feeling slightly giddy as she turned to admire the spectacular panorama.
‘I don’t think we should stay here too long,’ Roddie said. ‘You have no head for heights, Anna, and I wouldn’t care to try carrying you down that narrow spiral staircase.’
Reluctant though she was to drag herself away from the splendour of the views, not to mention the photo opportunities, Anna agreed they should start their descent.
‘You’re right,’ she told him with a smile. ‘I certainly wouldn’t like to make an exhibition of myself up here.’
Once they were back in the car, they sat for a while, still overawed by their experience.
‘There’s too much to absorb in one visit,’ Roddie said. ‘We’ll have to return to Duart Castle.’
‘You’re right,’ Anna said. ‘I hope my pictures do it justice. It will be a good focus for the part of my project tracing how the Lords extended and protected their kingdom.’
Although she didn’t voice her further thoughts, she found herself wondering how different a return visit would be if it were Finn who accompanied her?
CHAPTER 19
That evening, a hubbub of conversation greeted Anna and Roddie when they walked into the dining room of Lochside Inn. There was an air of excitement, heightened by the Happy Birthday Craig banner on one of the walls, and the balloons pinned to the ceiling throughout the room. Delicious smells of cooking emanated from the kitchen, making Anna realise how long it was since she and Roddie had eaten.
‘We’re over here, Anna,’ a voice from the corner of the room called. ‘There are a couple of seats free at this table.’
Turning, Anna saw George beckoning them over to join the group. Of the others there, Anna recognised Finn, Amy, and Sandy. She and Roddie squeezed themselves into the free chairs then, with introductions over, George poured glasses of Prosecco from a bottle already opened on the table.
‘Cheers!’ everyone said, raising their glasses in the direction of Roddie, the most recent arrival on the island.
‘And Happy Birthday to Craig,’ George added. ‘He’s sixteen today, and he won a medal at the Mòd for piping.’
While Roddie was soon deep in conversation with George, Anna chatted to Finn, who was sitting next to her.
‘Have you been back to Iona since I last saw you?’ Anna asked him.
‘No,’ he said. ‘It wouldn’t be the same without you.’ Anna felt slightly disconcerted – he was looking straight at her with those direct blue-green eyes. They were almost hypnotic, but Anna at last made the effort to drop her gaze.
‘Have you been travelling around with Roddie?’ he asked.
‘Yes,’ Anna replied. ‘We went to Duart Castle today. It’s so impressive. Have you ever done a dive at Duart Point?’ she asked.
‘No, not yet. But I’m hoping to do one soon with a group from the Lochaline Dive Centre. I could swim up to the castle and meet you there,’ he said, a broad grin on his face.
Anna had a mental picture of Finn swimming out of the sea, like a selkie come to claim his victim. Yes, that’s what he reminded her of, a selkie – the mythological creature with seductive powers over, in his case, women.
‘The castle has such an interesting history,’ Finn said, dragging her back to reality. ‘Most of the tourists who visit the island do fit in a visit, if they can. Sometimes, though, it’s only when they’re heading for the ferry and they’re about to leave Mull that they remember about it.’
‘I suppose that always gives them a reason to come back to the island,’ Anna said.
Suddenly they were interrupted by someone banging a spoon against a water jug and calling for silence. Gradually the chatter subsided, and Elsa announced that the buffet was now served at the far end of the room.
‘Come when you’re ready,’ she said. ‘You can return as often as you like throughout the evening – there’s plenty more food in the kitchen to fill up the serving dishes.’
The group in the corner carried on conversing, allowing those nearer the serving table to choose their favourite foods – not an easy task when there was so much on offer. It was tempting, Anna realised, to overfill her plate; she wanted to sample everything. Fish, especially salmon and trout, meats, pâté and every summer vegetable she could think of, with home-made bread and sauces to accompany the food. She would put on a lot of weight if she stayed here for any length of time.
As if reading her thoughts, George moved up to stand beside her.
‘Have you decided how long you’re staying on the island, Anna?’ he asked.
‘Not really, George,’ she replied. ‘Roddie brought my laptop, so I have all I need for my research now. I still have quite a lot to do.’
‘And will Roddie stay on with you?’
Anna’s antennae twitched. The question was almost too casual. And why hadn’t he asked Roddie himself? He’d been chatting with him for the last half hour.
‘Oh no. He’s only staying for a few days. He has to be back in Glasgow for work.’
‘Maybe we could meet for coffee sometime after he goes? I could come and collect you. Let me know if there’s somewhere you’d like to go.’
There was some gentle banter from those behind them, urging them to hurry up.
‘Come on, you two. It’ll be breakfast time before we reach the buffet if you don’t get a move on.’
Once they were back at their table, Finn once again reclaimed her attention.
‘I have to go to Iona again soon. If you’re planning a return visit, perhaps we could go together?’
What is it about this island, Anna wondered? Are they short of women? Two men offering to show her round within a few minutes of each other. She’d never had such concentrated male attention before!
After desserts were served, the company was invited to toast Craig, the birthday boy, and everyone sang Happy Birthday. He looked suitably embarrassed at the fuss being made of him, but thanked everyone
, then walked round all the tables, shaking people by the hand, before regaining his seat with an expression of profound relief.
In a lull in the conversation at her table, Anna looked around the assembled company. There was clearly no dress code, with most people wearing casual clothes. The informality of the gathering appealed to her; dressing up was fine, but she preferred the ‘come as you are’ approach.
From time to time, she thought she caught people staring at her in a rather strange way. While chatting to the individuals next to them, they kept their eyes on Anna, giving her the impression they were discussing her. Perhaps they wondered why she and Roddie were sitting with the locals? Were they related? Man and wife, or just good friends? Who had invited them to the party? Were they staying in Lochside? Anna certainly felt as if she was under scrutiny – and she didn’t really like it.
As the evening wore on, Elsa and Charlie came out of the kitchen to join in the celebrations. Willing hands moved chairs and tables back to create a space in the middle of the floor, which was swiftly occupied by a group of girls who had won medals for highland dancing at the Tobermory Highland Games the previous year.
They wore the traditional highland dress which was obligatory for the competitions: kilt, matching tartan knee-length stockings, velvet jacket, and white blouse. Their kilts were of different tartans, depending on their family name. In this group, not surprisingly, there were a number wearing the Clan Maclean of Duart tartan, in red, green and blue. The girls danced The Highland Fling, with music provided by a piper, who played skillfully despite his youth.
‘These young people all won medals at the Highland Games last year, and they entered competitions at various venues throughout the summer. The Games are held in different places, although not all of them have dancing or piping competitions.’ George kept his voice low as he explained this to Anna and Roddie, but there was no need – the sound from the bagpipes drowned out all the other noises in the room.
Once the applause had died down, a solo vocalist sang a song in Gaelic. Anna couldn’t understand a word, but the music suggested something unhappy. She gave George a questioning look, raising her eyebrows.
‘It’s a dirge,’ George explained. ‘Ailein Duinn, a lament for her lost love who drowned at sea.’
‘Oh dear.’
‘Don’t worry. We’ll have some something happier later, to cheer us all up.’ He smiled as he passed on the information.
There were some enthusiastic shouts for more, but the singer, whose name was Shona, modestly declined, and hurried off the makeshift stage to melt into the crowd.
‘That was beautiful,’ Anna said, tears of emotion prickling behind her eyes. ‘Are the songs all in Gaelic?’
‘No. There’s usually a mixture of Gaelic and English.’
The evening continued with singing and ceilidh dancing. There wasn’t enough room to dance inside, but some people spilled out into the garden, where locals could be heard explaining some of the dances to visitors to the island.
‘Always remember, ladies, start on your right foot… Hold on tight to your partner… Circle around the room, well… the garden.’
Finn, who had said little for some time, rose to his feet and held out his hand towards Anna.
‘Come on, Anna, let’s join the dancers.’
She hesitated. ‘But I’m not sure…’
‘I’ll show you,’ Finn said, as he took hold of her hand and led her out into the garden.
Despite Anna’s protests, she found the music and the general ambiance of fun and celebration contagious, and she was pleased that Finn had invited her to join in. Still, she couldn’t rid herself of the feeling that she was in some way being singled out for special treatment – but why?
Certainly, the package she planned to produce would, hopefully, publicise the island if her client used it in his talks. She had already realised that the tourist trade formed a substantial part of the island’s economy.
But that still did not fully explain this feeling she had. It was more than ‘special treatment’. People were behaving towards her almost as if they considered her one of their own, a wanderer who had come here searching for a link with the past.
Which was exactly what she was. But no-one here, except Roddie, knew that.
Finn and Anna struggled through the crowd of dancers to the far end of the garden, where they joined a group of spectators who were clapping hands and whooping in time to the music. There were some teenagers among the dancers who were clearly trying to outdo each other in the speed they were injecting into the dance. It looked nothing like the sedate country dancing, which Anna had occasionally seen on television. It was as if a crowd of banshees had been let loose under the stars.
The words of a poem by Rabbie Burns came into Anna’s mind; his description of devils dancing might easily fit the scene in the garden of Lochside.
‘…As Tammie glowr'd, amaz'd, and curious,
The mirth and fun grew fast and furious…’
As if by telepathy, Finn – his mouth so close to her ear she could feel his warm breath – began to recite:
‘The piper loud and louder blew
The dancers quick and quicker flew…’
‘Tam o’ Shanter,’ Anna said. ‘I was thinking about those lines, too.’
‘I can’t hear you.’ Once again, Finn leant close, dropping a tiny kiss before he pulled away.
‘I’ll tell you later,’ Anna said, raising her voice a little.
‘So, there will be a “later”?’
Anna made no effort to resist when he put his arm round her shoulders, pulling her closer. She was enjoying his proximity, yet he was a man she hardly knew. She’d spent only a matter of hours with him since she had arrived on the island, but it seemed like longer. Perhaps it was a result of his looking after her when she’d felt faint on their trip to Iona a few days before?
Once the dancers had whirled their partners at great speed through Strip the Willow, the piper slowed the tempo, which allowed them to recover their breath. Finn took Anna in his arms and they danced a Scottish waltz round the edges of the garden. Out in the open, a chilly wind had sprung up, reminding Anna how exposed this part of the island was.
‘Does the wind never stop blowing in the Ross of Mull?’ she asked Finn.
‘On two days a year,’ he replied, smiling down at her. ‘And on those days, we really miss it. The wind, that is.’
Realising he was teasing her, Anna gave him a playful push.
For a short time, they continued to dance, until Anna felt her foot slip on the edge of the path. Almost losing her balance, she cried out and clung onto Finn.
‘Ouch!’ she said. ‘I’ve twisted my ankle.’
‘Let me help you back inside,’ Finn said, supporting her as they made their way back into the dining room.
Anna could feel her ankle throbbing, but she was anxious not to draw attention to herself.
‘I’m sure it’ll be fine in a minute or two,’ she said, as all eyes round the table seemed to be focused on her. Roddie looked particularly anxious, and Finn continued to hold on to her hand.
‘Would you like me to have a look at it?’ Sandy asked.
A chorus of voices from around the table suggested that would be a good idea.
After a few half-hearted refusals, Anna admitted that she was in pain, and Sandy knelt down and discreetly examined her ankle, screened from the rest of the room by the others at the table.
‘I don’t think it’s broken, but it’s already beginning to swell a bit,’ Sandy said. ‘I think we’d better get you home.’
An hour later, Anna was tucked up in bed, having taken a mild painkiller on Sandy’s advice. But it was not the throbbing pain in her ankle that prevented her from sleeping, more her brain that refused to shut down. Lying awake, thoughts of her current problems forced themselves into her mind, bringing to the surface a feeling of unease which she had conveniently quashed for some time.
It was as if her recent
rejection by her birth mother had raised her awareness of what must have happened to her soon after she was born. She felt as if she was a person of little worth, a daughter that even her own mother did not want when she was born. Her birth mother’s recent refusal to meet her was hard to bear. Yet she kept reminding herself of her happy upbringing with loving parents. What did she have to complain about?
Being the centre of attention and so welcomed on this part of the island should have provided a salve for the wounds she was suffering, but the opposite seemed true. All this consideration, affection even, from people she had only just met, seemed to make her birth mother’s rejection even more hurtful.
With so many conflicting thoughts tumbling around in her head, sleep refused to come. No sooner did she begin to doze off than another idea would flash into her mind, leaving her wide awake again. Had she been on her own in the cottage, she would have gone through to make a cup of tea, but she did not want to disturb Roddie. If she was careful, though, she would probably be able to refill her water glass, which was empty.
Carefully, she tested her weight on her injured ankle. Yes, it still hurt, but she could walk if she held onto the furniture, or even the wall. Feeling like a thief in the night, she slowly opened the living room door, which creaked and squeaked, making all her attempts to move silently a waste of effort. Roddie was sitting up on the camp bed, his back to the sofa for support, studying a map of the island.
He smiled as she came into the room, and stood up to help her.
‘I couldn’t sleep,’ Anna said.
‘Neither could I,’ he said, supporting her as they made their way over to the sofa. ‘You should have called me.’
‘I didn’t want to disturb you.’
‘You could have fallen, though. It’s like an obstacle course in here with the camp bed in the middle of the floor.’
‘I was thirsty. I only wanted a glass of water.’
‘And how were you proposing to carry it back to your bedroom?’ he asked.
‘I would have managed,’ Anna said, her voice tense with irritation.