Spirit of the Island

by Joan Fleming

  ‘Yes, I was aware of that. I feel I shouldn’t be fussing, they’re two responsible adults, but it’s not like Elsa to say she’ll do something then not follow through.’

  ‘You’re right. Did she say they would definitely be back today?’ Amy asked.

  ‘I’m not certain now. Maybe she didn’t say definitely. This business with Adam seems to have addled my brain. My thinking’s a bit muddled.’

  ‘There’s no real cause for worry. If there’s a problem, they’ll deal with it, I’m sure. They’re a really capable couple. And they certainly wouldn’t expect us to be worrying about them. Have a glass of red wine before you go to bed, and see what the morning brings. By the way, any advance on the disappearing whisky?’

  ‘Nothing at all. Finn came in for a short while…’

  ‘And set your pulse racing…’

  ‘…but I didn’t broach the subject.’

  ‘I’ll try to reach Elsa on her mobile again. If she still isn’t answering, there isn’t much more we can do,’ Amy said.

  ‘Do you think I should phone the police about the whisky?’ Kirsty asked.

  ‘Leave it till morning. If there’s no word of Elsa, we may have to do something. They’re really valuable, you know.’

  Kirsty gulped. ‘That’s what’s worrying me. I’m not going to ask you how much they’re worth–I might not sleep a wink!’

  ‘Things will look better tomorrow. Don’t worry.’

  And you don’t know the half of it, Kirsty thought, as she rang off.

  Nonetheless, she did feel better after her chat with Amy, and decided to take up her suggestion and pour herself a glass of red wine.

  Chapter 19

  Although it had been well forecast, when it hit, the ferocity of the storm knew no bounds. It was as if the destructive forces of nature were in league against the world: the human race with all its man-made artefacts as well as the natural landscape. Trees, rocks and cliff-face fell victim to its assault; bushes were torn up by the roots; objects that were not securely tied down were blown around like playthings from a child’s toybox.

  Checking the windows of Columb Cottage for the umpteenth time, Amy had difficulty seeing through the glass which was covered in small items of debris–flower-heads, paper from bins, leaves and twisted branches from bushes. She could only see what was happening outside when the wind rested for a few seconds and rainwater carried the rubbish down the glass. Another blast of wind sent raindrops battering against the window panes with a report like bullets from a machine gun.

  Between the gusts, when the wind was breathing in preparing for the next salvo, she thought she heard a scratching at her outside door. Perhaps some wind-blown article being thrown against the cottage? Another blast, increasing in intensity, bent on wreaking the maximum amount of havoc, covered the sound. Amy shivered. Perhaps she should draw the curtains, shut out this unholy assault on man and nature.

  Then she heard it again. There must be someone or something at her front door. She’d promised Sandy she would stay inside and keep all doors and windows locked until the storm blew itself out. But she couldn’t ignore the sound at her door. Putting on her waterproof jacket, with her hair firmly pushed into her hood, she opened the door. There, on the doorstep was Bess, Mary Benview’s dog.

  ‘Oh, Bess, you poor thing. Come away inside,’ Amy said, giving the bedraggled creature a helping hand to limp into the cottage. At that moment, a flash of lightning lit up the darkened sky, and Amy glanced up to see Iona Abbey silhouetted in sharp relief against the horizon, before everything went black in front of her again. A particularly vicious rush of wind took hold of her and pushed her back into the cottage. With an effort, she regained her balance in time to close the door again before the next blast sent more rain hammering against the door.

  Once she had removed her jacket, which was already making a large puddle on the hall floor, she went to the airing cupboard and grabbed a towel. Bess was standing on trembling legs, clearly unable to summon the energy to move. Amy bundled the poor dog into her arms and carried her through to the living room, where she set her down in front of the peat fire.

  ‘I’ll have you warm in no time, Bess,’ she said, gently rubbing the towel over the dog’s soaking fur. Bess continued to shiver, looking up at Amy with baleful eyes. ‘What were you doing, wandering out in this storm, Bess? You could have been injured, or even killed in that wind.’

  Gradually, the dog’s shaking subsided. ‘Let’s find you something to eat,’ Amy said. She went into the kitchen, but Bess made no move to follow her. ‘I’ve no dog food, but I have the remains of a casserole in the fridge. I’ll warm that up for you.’ With no experience of looking after dogs, Amy didn’t know if the food was suitable, but it was the best she could offer, and she was sure the poor creature would need something to eat.

  When she put the dish down in front of the dog, Bess began to eat, although not with the enthusiasm she would normally show for food. Amy had occasionally fed her tidbits which Bess had always been eager to eat. ‘Poor, poor Bess,’ she said. ‘You’re exhausted.’

  At last, Bess managed to clear her bowl, and Amy brought her some warmed milk, which she lapped up with a little more energy. Fetching a travel rug from the guest bedroom, Amy folded it over the dog, who settled down on the rug in front of the fire and fell fast asleep.

  Leaving the exhausted dog safely covered up in the warm living room, Amy made her way upstairs to bed. From outside her bedroom window, she could hear the cacophony of noise created by the combination of wind, waves thrashing against the shoreline, and flying flotsam and jetsam. She tried to look out at the storm, but there was nothing but blackness behind the grit-streaked window pane. Aware that sleep might not come easily, she huddled under the duvet and started to read her book by the light of the bedside lamp, which flickered every now and again, but didn’t fail completely.

  Her position brought back memories of years gone by when she would feel so safe in this bedroom in Columb Cottage, cosily tucked up in bed with a book in her hands. A wave of nostalgia swept over her, her eyes misting as she thought about her beloved Aunt Mairi, who had bequeathed the cottage to her. At the moment, she thought she would never like to live anywhere else. If she were to marry Sandy, would he come and live here? Or would they set up home in Hillcrest, Sandy’s home on the island?

  Ahead of her was the most important decision of her life. Yes, she loved Sandy–she was sure of that. So what was holding her back? In films and romantic novels, the heroine said yes, yes, yes when the man she loved proposed to her, before leading her to the altar and living happily ever after. If she married Sandy, would they live happily ever after? Deep down, she knew that was unlikely in the real world. She couldn’t rid her thoughts of the tale Kirsty had told her. If a love-filled marriage could falter after only two years, was she prepared to take the risk and accept Sandy’s proposal for life?

  Of course, she knew this was skewed thinking. Her little oasis of warmth and security, surrounded by the storm-torn blackness, was no place for rational thoughts. For a few moments, she let her mind dwell on how she would feel if Sandy suddenly changed his mind and withdrew his proposal. She was sure there were those who would say ‘small wonder’ if he walked away. He had pursued her, making every effort to get in touch with her again–albeit in a rather unorthodox manner–and now she was making him wait even longer. Was she testing him? Trying to find out just how far she could go? Hastily dismissing this idea, which reflected badly on her own motives, she arrived at what was really bothering her.

  If she married Sandy, not only would she have to be prepared to leave Columb Cottage and live in Hillcrest, she would have to contemplate leaving the island. It wasn’t simply a question of which house they would live in. They might not live on Mull at all. Sandy’s job here was temporary. He was here as a locum, and Amy didn’t even know when his contract would end. She knew he had worked abroad at some point during the ten years when they lived their independent
lives. Supposing he was offered a position in a foreign country? Or even in a city on the mainland? Would she be prepared to go with him? To leave her beloved island?

  Working up to the answer, which was tending towards a no, she suddenly recalled the picture of Sandy holding Kirsty in his arms at Lochside Inn the day Charlie took ill. Although she knew the embrace had only been to comfort Kirsty when she was upset, for a short period it had sown a tiny seed of doubt in her mind. How would she feel if she lost Sandy to another woman?

  At the very thought, she felt her pulse begin to race. She grew hot, then immediately cold, starting to shiver and clutch at the duvet. At that moment there was a flash of lightning which lit up her bedroom in a spectral cameo, followed by a clap of thunder which sent her burrowing under the bedclothes. From downstairs, she could hear Bess howling. Summoning her courage, Amy went down to the living room, where she found the dog standing impatiently at the door. She faced the elements once more to allow Bess to disappear into the shrieking wind and the darkness of the night.

  The mayhem did nothing to clear the confusion in her mind, but she knew she couldn’t keep Sandy waiting much longer.

  Chapter 20

  When the phone rang at Lochside Inn, Kirsty was in the garden, doing her best to clean up after last night’s storm. She ran inside but it had stopped ringing by the time she arrived. There was no voicemail message. Picking up the receiver, she put it into the pocket of her jacket and returned to the garden. The day before, when warnings about the force of the storm were forecast, she had removed anything likely to be blown about–plant pots, clothes pegs, sweeping brushes–but there were still objects littered around the building. She gathered as much as she could and made a pile of leaves and bushes that had been torn up by the roots, ready to be disposed of later. The rest of the rubbish she put into large sacks and tied them securely.

  When the phone rang a second time, she was ready and waiting. It was Elsa.

  ‘Hello, Kirsty. Are you all right after the storm?’

  Relief flooded through Kirsty. ‘Yes, I’m grand,’ she said. ‘What about you?’

  ‘We’re both fine,’ Elsa said. ‘The ferries are back on again. We’ll come over this afternoon.’

  ‘Are the ferries running normally? I’ll come to Craignure to pick you up,’ Kirsty said, remembering that she’d said to Adam she would probably be in Lochside in the afternoon.

  ‘No, that’s not necessary. Sandy’s offered us a lift. He’ll be on the same ferry, so he’ll drop us off. We should be back before six o’clock.’

  When Elsa rang off, Kirsty wasn’t sure whether she was relieved or not that she could be at Lochside when Adam called that afternoon. If he called.

  She continued her clean-up of the garden, dealing with as much as she could. As long as the winds didn’t flare up again, her piles of refuse should remain intact. Surmising that the locals would have their own method of dealing with the debris from the storm, she knew there was no more she could do–she would have to ask Elsa when she arrived home.

  Once back inside, Kirsty began to plan a meal for Elsa and Charlie. If Sandy was driving them from the ferry port at Craignure, perhaps he would join them for dinner? Now that she was familiar with the cupboards and cooker in the kitchen, she decided to make a beef casserole, large enough for at least four people. After it was safely in the oven, she made a pot of tea and was just about to sit down when there was a knock at the door. She almost dropped her cup. It must be Adam. What was she to say to him when she really couldn’t analyse her own feelings?

  She was angry. Yet, at the same time, she wanted to hear what Adam had to say. When she’d first arrived in Mull, she had been so upset and had doubted her love for him. If he continued to act in the same way, the best plan would be to end their marriage. It could only mean he didn’t love her any more, so what was the point in extending the misery?

  But even the short time she had spent on the island had been enough to help Kirsty re-establish some balance in her life. Simply being here had a healing effect on the raw emotions that had taken command of her as a result of the problems in her marriage. Would spending time with Adam re-open wounds that had begun, even slightly, to heal? To satisfy her need for a credible explanation for his actions, was she prepared to run the risk?

  Another knock at the door–more insistent this time. She walked slowly to the hall and opened the door, her fingers slipping on the handle with the perspiration that had broken out on her hands and all over her body.

  ‘Is it all right for me to come in?’ Adam asked.

  ‘I’m scarcely going to keep you standing on the doorstep,’ Kirsty said, attempting to keep her voice steady. Leading the way to the lounge, she concentrated on trying to keep her emotions in check. She was determined to remain aloof, to allow Adam to lead the conversation–whatever he wanted to say to her.

  ‘I don’t have long,’ Kirsty said. ‘I have a meal to make for several people.’

  ‘So, are you working here?’

  She ignored his question. ‘Why are you here, Adam?’

  He cast around for a moment, apparently looking for some way to lead into the conversation. Perhaps he expected her to make it easy for him.

  At last, he began to speak in a halting manner, as if he was under-rehearsed for a part in a play. ‘This isn’t easy…’ he began.

  ‘Do you mean easy, like cancelling summer with your wife is easy?’

  ‘Please, Kirsty. Listen to what I have to say.’

  ‘So say it!’ She didn’t add ‘And leave!’ but her tone implied her message.

  He began once more. ‘You seem to think I’m the lowest form of good-for-nothing, and I can understand that up to a point.’ Clearly searching for a response, he was met with a stony silence. ‘I felt you were due an explanation for my behaviour.’

  Watching him struggle, Kirsty was tempted to help him out. She could make it easier for him, she knew, but she was having a battle of her own. A jumble of emotions swirled round inside her, fighting with each other. She wanted to release him from his misery but at the same time she wanted him to suffer, to punish him for his actions. If he was trying to end their marriage, she knew she still had a hard time ahead; a period of wretchedness, before she could look for any easing of the pain. His appearance here was putting salt in her wounds.

  On the other hand, she was curious. She wanted to know why he seemed bent on putting as much distance as he could between them. In spite of what he’d said, was there another woman? There had to be something that had triggered his actions. And why had he come now? Was he looking for a divorce?

  She could feel her head pounding, as if these possibilities were beating drums to different tunes inside her brain. Feeling hot and cold at the same time, she shivered in response to the heat invading her body.

  After a time–was it seconds? Or minutes?–he resumed.

  ‘I didn’t decide to work this summer on an impulse, Kirsty. I’ve been looking for more work with the firm for some time.’

  His words were like daggers cutting into her heart.

  ‘Perhaps you should have done it sooner, then,’ she snapped. ‘The day after our wedding? During our honeymoon?’

  ‘No need to be sarcastic, Kirsty. I’m trying to come clean with you.’

  ‘You’d better make it quick. I told you–I have things to do.’ She could feel her body begin to shake. Where was this leading? Where did she want it to lead?

  ‘I’m only trying to say that I had my reasons. You know I can’t find the right words the way you can.’ He paused. ‘Since the accident, I’ve been aware of–’

  At that point, the phone rang and Kirsty leapt up to answer the call.

  ‘Hi Kirsty. It’s Amy. Are you free to talk?’

  ‘Hold on a minute, Amy,’ Kirsty said. Covering the mouthpiece with her hand, she addressed Adam. ‘I think you’d better go. Now.’

  ‘Can’t you at least give me a chance to finish what I came to say?’ he said.


  ‘No. This is a private conversation. Please leave.’

  Adam stood up slowly, and walked out of the room. Kirsty heard the door close, and returned to her telephone conversation.

  ‘Hello, Amy. What can I do for you?’

  ‘Kirsty, are you all right? You sound a bit shaken.’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks,’ she replied, as tears started to roll down her cheeks.

  ‘You don’t sound fine,’ Amy said.

  ‘No, you’re right. I’m not fine. I’ve just had–’

  ‘I’m coming over. I’ll be with you in twenty minutes.’

  As Amy ended the connection, Kirsty replaced the handset on its cradle, and flopped into an armchair. Putting her head in her hands, she released the tears that had been on the point of escaping since Adam had arrived the previous day. She had never felt more miserable in her life.

  Chapter 21

  ‘Damn! Damn, damn, damn!’

  Although there was no one around to hear her expletives, it helped to ease Amy’s frustration. Investigating the reason for the bumpy ride in her car, it took only seconds to discover a flat tyre. She couldn’t have chosen a less convenient time, nor a less convenient place.

  Assuming that Kirsty was alone in Lochside Inn, Amy was anxious to join her friend as quickly as possible. Kirsty had sounded so upset during their short phone call. Amy’s imagination took wings. Why had Kirsty paused the conversation for a couple of minutes? Was she speaking to someone else? Who could it be? The diver? The burglar–if that was someone other than the diver? Was she being held at knife-point?

  Once she climbed back into her car, she tried to calm herself. Panic would help no-one. This theft of Charlie’s whisky and the absence of the Fergusons seemed to have raised her tension level–the last thing she expected in this quiet corner of the island. Yes, she had a spare wheel in her boot, but she knew she would need help to make the change. Help from someone strong. Taking out her mobile, she prayed she would have a signal. Relief flooded through her when she detected one, albeit rather unsteady. She hoped it would be strong enough for a call for help.