by Ayse Hafiza
To access the island of Eigg they hitchhiked and used a local bus service to Ardtoe, a small coastal village. The smell of the Irish channel met them, the air was tinged with freshness and fish. The gray overclouded sky couldn’t dampen their spirits they were having an adventure.
Stopping to look at the colorful houses that faced out onto the sea, they noted sturdy bricks that looked like they could sustain anything nature threw at them. They were all wondering what the house was like. Frank had told them minimal information, but they were used to that with him seeing as he didn’t talk much. Even among the camaraderie of the commune Frank was a loner. He kept to himself and coming on his suggestion to this island was a way in which they could get to know him better. They watched as he distanced himself while making his secretive phone calls and spoke behind his back while he was gone. He knew they were assessing him, he had made them travel the length of the country, so Frank wasn’t concerned with the gossip.
Looking around at the group he was glad the domineering people had been the ones to slip off quietly to find themselves hostels and homeless shelters. The commune was the law of the jungle, the prior leaders left the weakest to fend for themselves.
Frank liked everyone in this group, and he especially liked the twins little Heaven and Nevaeh. The girls were equals to any of the adults, and Sophie’s question about safety reminded Frank that as much as the young girls needed protection, Sophie did too. If through his ancestral home, he could offer that to her and them then for Frank he would have achieved something amazing. They were already his commune family, but the girls especially melted his heart and drove his desire to make island life on Eigg a dream come true. He left the group to wait for him by the fishing boats so he could phone the estate agent.
The warm tone of the agent impressed him whenever they spoke.
“Hamilton’s Estate Agency,” said the cheerful woman.
“Hello, Miss. . .”
He realized that he forgot her name and was instantly embarrassed by his oversight.
“Mrs. Boswell,” answered the cheerful woman.
He was glad the tone of her voice hadn’t changed, it told him he wasn’t in trouble for being remiss.
“My group and I have reached Ardtoe Mrs. Boswell, how would you suggest that we proceed to Eigg?”
“Ahh, you are making good progress. In that case, wait in the pub and I’ll send Stephen the fisherman to find you.”
“Thank you. Which pub do we wait in?”
“You really aren’t from around here. Mr. Blades. . .Frank, there is only one.”
He nodded when she said it, he had to remember that he wasn’t living in a city, maybe that would take a long time to sink in.
“One other thing Mrs. Boswell. I don’t want the group I am with to know this is my property. If it’s all the same with you?”
“That’s fine, you’re our client, whatever you wish,” said the woman.
Frank felt at ease. Even though he lived in the commune for such a long time, he still didn’t want to flaunt that he was a homeowner. He didn’t need to expose himself as being different.
“Also, I’ve left some supplies on the kitchen table for you when you arrive.”
“I might have to lean on you Mrs. Boswell, in terms of finding work and for advice,” he said.
“Ahhh Frank, don’t worry, I wouldn’t be doing my neighborly duty if you didn’t.”
Frank laughed.
“Are we going to be neighbors?”
“It’s an island we are all neighbors.”
Frank chortled a little, he hadn’t thought of it like that. He needed to remind himself again that this was going to be a smaller place than the metropolis they had left behind.
“Besides, lots of us are curious to see what people from the big smoke are like. We’re looking forward to meeting you all.”
“And we are you,” he returned the geniality in her voice.
How was it that this strange woman was able to make him feel warm about moving to an island off the coast of Scotland? He didn’t know, but if Mrs. Boswell was a yardstick he was starting to believe that he would be taken care of here, and even made to feel welcome.
“Now, you just go and hang out in the pub, Stephen will be with you in an hour.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Boswell,” Frank said.
Taking slow steps back toward the others, he knew that his life was headed in the right direction. They would be able to get work maybe even on the island itself, and they would be safe and secure, which was something foreign to them all.
They waited for him to speak.
The group weren’t his flock, and as soon as he could he wanted to pass that responsibility off to someone else. Being responsible for the commune wasn’t an attractive proposition. Frank had chosen Paul as his target, a tall skinny run away in his mid-twenties. He decided that he would empower Paul, constantly ask him what he thought until the group started to listen to Paul’s words. That way he would be able to hand over the reins of leadership and fall back undetected.
“We’re to wait in the pub, a fisherman called Stephen is coming to take us to the island.”
They looked at him and nodded. Picking up their bags and dragging their weary feet they found the pub.
“Let’s not sit inside,” suggested Stacey.
The mousey brown haired slight woman had only been part of the commune for a few years. She never spoke about her past, lots of people in the commune were like that. They believed by speaking the words they were reliving their bad experiences, so they bottled it up inside. Mental health issues were rife. But that didn’t stop the gossips and the rumor was that she abandoned her husband and child. Everyone knew Stacey was also an occasional prostitute when times required, and he didn’t judge her for it. On the streets they did what they needed to survive. Besides, they had been one step above the streets in the commune, soon they would be one step higher. No councilors, bailiffs, or bulldozers would force them out this time.
Roger looked disappointed at her suggestion. “Why?”
“Because we haven’t the money for drinking and besides we should offer this Stephen fella some crust for picking us up.”
Frank was surprised how fast the word crust had been adopted.
“For God sakes Stacey. It’s an island, how else were we going to get there. . .swim?” The aggravation in his voice reminded Frank that Rodger was an alcoholic.
But Stacey was too feisty to back down. “Look if we go into the pub, then we need to spend money which none of us have, and as we’re going to be living near here we don’t need to create a bad impression.”
Sophie nodded her agreement. The women weren’t going to be comfortable in the pub. Frank was sure that Roger with his red-tipped nose would be the only one comfortable inside the pub.
Frank looked at Paul, there was no time like the present. “What do you think Paul?”
“I don’t know,” said the young man shrugging his shoulders.
Frank felt himself deflate, if Paul wasn’t going to offer his opinions easily, it would be tough making him the new commune leader.
“Although, if that was what they said, wait inside the pub then maybe it’s what we should do,” he finally offered as a suggestion.
Everyone looked at Frank, and he nodded. He didn’t want to wait inside the pub either, he would rather have taken the girls for a walk along the parade of shops or gone to see what the fishermen had caught. But, he didn’t, he trudged along with the women at the back, looking at them apologetically. Roger led the way, and Frank wondered if Roger would have been a better choice as the next commune leader. But with his issues with alcohol there was no guarantee that Roger wouldn’t want to sit and drink all day, and until Frank could be sure that he would chip in and help, he wasn’t going to entertain the idea.
They stepped one by one through the doorway and into the small whitewashed pub and were met by the sight of a cozy stone fireplace. The ceiling was lined with low wood dark b
rown painted beams. The carpet was a typical crimson red, and the bar was dark brown wood with brass ornaments nailed onto the beams. The atmosphere felt warm and welcoming. It was their first experience of the architecture of the area. An indication of what the house would feel like.
Inside, the warmth made Frank feel amazing, it once again reassured him he was in the right place. He settled himself taking a seat on a wooden bench that would not have been out of place in a church and watched the remnants of the commune unwind.
This was going to be an adventure he told himself as his eyes closed and he drifted into a deep sleep.
“Mr. Frank Blades?” A man wearing a yellow mackintosh and green wellington boots startled him awake. Frank looked at the elderly man who was wearing the widest smile he had ever seen, his face supporting the bristles of a generous white beard.
“I’m here to take you to Eigg,” said the man.
Frank rubbed his eyes, willing himself to wake up. He could see his group standing behind.
“Stephen,” Frank offered his hand for a shake. They all smiled and nodded at the older man. Frank indicated that they follow him out onto his boat. Frank caught glimpses of him as he stood with the wheel in his grip staring at the strange city folk on his vessel. The sea color now matched that of the gray overcast sky.
“You’ll get used to that, the weather changes very fast,” informed Stephen.
Frank nodded.
He noticed the girls standing next to their Mom. Frank caught Sophie’s gaze and they exchanged half smiles as the boat left the mainland and made its way over a bumpy sea toward the small island with a sandy beach just off in the distance. The girls were mesmerized when they saw it and stood by the side of the boat looking across the water. Frank went to join the others to get his first glimpse of the Isle that his ancestors called home. The vast natural beauty of the stone, grass, and waters captured his imagination. He felt the stir of excitement and stood in awe at the power of nature. As they got to the island the weather changed, the clouds parted to reveal once again a cheerful blue sky, the gray skies were nothing more than a hollow threat.
“Welcome to Eigg,” said the familiar voice of Mrs. Boswell. She had been standing at the harbor apparently waiting for them to dock.
“Mrs. Boswell,” Frank said, stepping forward and shaking her hand. Her eyes took them all in, this odd bunch of commune dwellers, and her gaze settled on the children. She gave the girls a smile and they returned it.
“Right Stephen and I have got two cars to take you all to the house.”
With a huge sigh of relief Frank nodded.
“Don’t be surprised if the neighbors pop in with food occasionally, you are all quite a novelty for us, and it will be nice to have children here.”
“Are there many children on the island?” asked Sophie.
Mrs. Boswell smiled, “There weren’t, and well now there are two.”
Sophie stepped back, and Frank realized that he hadn’t thought to ask Mrs. Boswell that question, he could kick himself for his stupidity.
“But don’t worry, I’m a retired schoolmistress, so I’ll help you homeschool them.”
Sophie nodded, “Thank you. That is a very generous offer.”
The cars led them along winding single track roads with expansive fields and faded whitewashed houses with single glazed windows deep set in thick walls. Frank couldn’t help but wonder if this was a hint of what was to come.
When they turned onto the road leading up to it, he saw the Hamilton farmhouse was far bigger than other properties on the island. It told him a little about his ancestors’ wealth. The house had windows on each side of the front door and large dull white walls, trailing plants climbed part of them and sturdy looking windows. Some tiles were missing from the roof, and some plaster had fallen away from the outside, but overall the house was in great condition for its age. As soon as Frank saw it, he was mesmerized. He knew he had fallen in love, and under his breath, he apologized to the house for taking so long to come.
“Impressive, isn’t she?” stated Mrs. Boswell as they climbed out of the cars.
The others agreed, but Frank stayed silent the awe stopped him responding to her question. There was silence as they all looked at him for a reaction.
“Yes, she sure is,” finally he spoke up. He couldn’t take his eyes off the house. Although a little weather-beaten it appeared to have stood up well to the harsh weather conditions.
“Lots of outbuildings too, and plenty of space.” Mrs. Boswell was back to being an estate agent.
She handed Frank the keys and smiled at him, “I’m sure you will all be very happy here.”
Frank nodded, he couldn’t look away, he was mesmerized by the beauty of the house and from having spent time inside the thick walls of the pub he knew the house would be solid like that. Warm and welcoming.
“You’ll want to get a fire started in the next hour, and although things are old. I’ve checked, everything works.”
Frank nodded his thanks.
“I’ll be along in the morning to check in on you. I’ve left some supplies in the kitchen, and when I come in the morning, I’ll bring you some eggs for breakfast.”
“Thank you, for everything Mrs. Boswell I really appreciate everything you have done, but you don’t need to do that. Can I at least give you some money for them?” asked Frank finally pulling his eyes away from the building.
“Not at all pet, they’re from my own chickens. So, they don’t cost me anything.”
He watched as the woman once more climbed into her jeep and drove away. Island life was going to take some getting used to, but the prospect excited him. With the keys in his hand, he walked through the gate into the overgrown front garden. His family home in South London was the last time he’d had a front garden, and his dad had chased him out of it. Now he had his own, complete with rose bushes. With his shaking hand he put the key into the lock and with a reassuring click, the door opened. Eager to see what their new home looked like they all piled in. Everything was far bigger on the inside than he could have imagined. Wooden beams lined the dull white ceilings, and large fireplaces were the feature of every room. They were surprised to find the inside of the house warm where the stone had absorbed the heat from the day.
He could feel his heart sing as his eyes took in the sight of the thick walls and the food left on the table, bread and jams, and a packet of tea. Being in this house, this was going to work, he could feel it in his bones. Frank Blades was finally home on the Hamilton Farm.
3
Home at last
Of all the things he was thankful for when it came to sleeping rough or heating within the commune was the fact that they had perfected the art of lighting a fire. It also helped that one among them was a smoker. Phil had a collection of lighters which he generously dotted around the house and left sitting on each hearth.
“It’s dusty, and it’ll need a woman touch, but this is a lovely home Frank,” said Stacey as she looked around.
Frank froze a little, he knew it was a cue for him to tell them all how he had gained access to it.
‘As you probably all know I’ve never been here. . .’ he could hear himself starting his response in his head. But, then he stopped, he didn’t need to justify himself.
“Thank God we’re not on the street, is all I’m saying. Having this place to come to is a miracle when we all needed one and they are happy to have us here, did you hear that woman? They treat us like we are humans,” said Sophie gushing with enthusiasm. Frank glanced at her with a smile, he knew she was protecting his privacy. “Who was happy to have us when we were living in the squat? That life was tiring. I’m done running from the police, and well, my girls will have a grand education here,” Sophie walked to Heaven and Nevaeh and patted the seven-year-old girls on the head.
“I like it too,” said Heaven.
Apparently that had quelled any questions there had been as everyone walked away from Frank. They seemed settled and t
hankful. He looked at the fireplace, then at the walls of the house, noting the thick stones which had been used to form the walls. They made the house impenetrable to the realities of harsh weather. He glanced at the floor taking in the sight of the roughly cut squares of the worn flagstones. When they had just arrived, Frank had walked around the house with a critical eye, he was making a mental note of what jobs needed to be done and the urgency of each. He was noting what work the men could take on, and what could be repaired by the women. There wasn’t a lot from what he could see that needed urgent repairs, and he couldn’t help but feel it was all too good to be true. His critical eye was now actively looking for problems he may have missed.
He walked up the creaking stairs testing each floorboard with his weight before placing his foot firmly in the middle. The stairs seemed compact and he knew from his step they had been constructed with solid oak. They stood the test of time he was impressed. As he stood on the second floor of the house, he looked along the hallway to the walls lined with multiple doors and relaxed further knowing there would be room enough for everyone.
Stepping into the largest bedroom upstairs. He smiled as he took in the view, it was a good-sized room with a box of things left in the middle on the floor. He recognized the box immediately. Crossing the space between where he stood to where it sat he took a steadying breath. The top had a thick layer of dust which gathered as he ran his finger across it. He wasn’t ready to open it. This was the box of his mother’s keepsakes from the hospice which he had delivered here when she died.
‘Lizzy can wait,’ he told himself thinking about his mom. Touching it reminded him that her hands would once have touched it. He was sure his mom had never visited this house but with her things here, it reflected her connection to the house.
Pushing his mind past the box on the floor he moved from it and over to look out of the single glazed window, their deep purple curtains had seen better days. He pushed them to the side carefully attempting not to disturb the dust. Frank shivered slightly, the room needed a fire to chase out the chill. Looking around at the rest of the room he was content that the house still had some furniture albeit basic in function.