Spirit of the Island

by Joan Fleming

  Who should she contact? Sandy was on the mainland, perhaps on his way home; Charlie was involved in his medical situation; her neighbours? There was no answer from their landline nor from their mobiles. She left a message on all three voicemails.

  Unable to think of anyone else she could summon to help her out of her predicament, she sat in the driver’s seat, wondering what she should do next. She tried to go onto the internet to see if she could find the number of a source of help–a garage or petrol station–but her signal wasn’t strong enough. She looked at the battery indicator, and saw she was almost out of power. Were the fates stacked against her?

  For a few moments she could not dispel a flash of annoyance. Since Kirsty had come to the island, it seemed she almost courted trouble. After their discussion about her marriage difficulties, there had been the incident of Sandy’s arms around her friend. Then the diver appeared on the scene, the whisky bottles disappeared–and now there was some other problem. Suddenly, Amy felt a wave of guilt that she should be irritated because her friend’s problems were inconveniencing her. She should be feeling sorry for Kirsty, who had come to the island to seek refuge from the troubles that life–including her husband–had thrown her way.

  Resigned to the fact that she would have to wait for a passing car to ask for help, she settled down in the driving seat. In the glove compartment, she found a manicure set a friend had given her as a Christmas present. At least she could pass the time by attending to her nails. She had never known the road so quiet–where were the cars that regularly travelled this way?

  ‘Note to self,’ she muttered, as she replaced the manicure set. ‘Write down emergency numbers for the car and keep them in the glove compartment.’

  * * *

  As she waited for her friend to arrive at Lochside, Kirsty began to fret. Amy had said she would be with her in twenty minutes. More than an hour had passed, and there was no sign of her. What could have happened? An accident on the road? If she’d been held up, surely she would have phoned? Why did life have to be so complicated? She’d come to Mull in an effort to recover from the prospect of a lonely, uneventful summer, but she appeared to have found even more trouble here. Was she some kind of a magnet for the bad things in life?

  * * *

  In Craignure, Sandy drove off the ferry with his two passengers. Elsa and Charlie both looked weary. Perhaps the procedures in the hospital in Oban had been more invasive than they had anticipated? Sandy knew he could ask them–he was the relief doctor on the island–but it was Dr Mackay who had arranged the hospital appointment. If the Fergusons volunteered information, he would be happy to listen, but he wouldn’t initiate any discussion.

  ‘If you want to have a nap in the back of the car while we drive to Bunessan, feel free,’ Sandy said. ‘You both look as if you could do with some sleep.’

  ‘I think we’ll sleep tonight,’ Elsa said. ‘I’d rather look out at the scenery. I can’t believe it’s so sunny after that storm yesterday. I love this drive through the Glen, especially in the sunshine.’

  ‘I love it, too. I don’t think you can leave your cares behind when you come to Mull, but there’s something about this island that has the power to set up a healing process. This journey from Craignure to the Ross of Mull starts things off. Cares seem to lose their grip and their rough edges along this road,’ Sandy said.

  ‘I think Kirsty’s looking better than she did when she arrived.’ Charlie had said little since they met in Oban, but now that he was on home soil, it was as if his powers of speech had returned. ‘She was a sorry sight when she walked through our door a couple of weeks ago. The Mull air has done her good, even though the weather hasn’t always been wonderful. I dread to think what’s waiting for us after that terrible storm. I hope there’s no damage to the building.’

  ‘When I spoke to her on the phone, Kirsty seemed to think everything was fine. Lots of detritus in the garden, a few broken flower pots, but she had managed to put most things away before the storm started. She’s very capable, Charlie, so I’m sure you don’t need to worry.’ Elsa was clearly trying to reassure her husband, hoping to keep him calm until they reached home.

  ‘Why don’t you give Kirsty a call?’ Charlie asked his wife.

  ‘No need,’ Elsa said. ‘I’ve already spoken to her, and she knows when to expect us. She even said she would have a meal ready for us when we arrive. You’ll have something to eat with us, won’t you, Sandy?’

  Sandy hesitated a moment before answering. ‘Yes, that would be great, thanks, Elsa. That will save me cooking once I’m home.’

  ‘Amy won’t mind, will she?’

  ‘No. I haven’t made any arrangements with her for this evening. I thought I might not be back until tomorrow.’

  ‘You can call in on your way home and surprise her,’ Elsa said, with a smile.

  ‘Stop matchmaking, woman,’ Charlie warned. ‘I’m sure Sandy can make up his own mind about what he plans to do.’

  Sandy laughed. He was not the only one involved in his plans for the future.

  Chapter 22

  When Kirsty heard Sandy’s car draw up outside Lochside Inn, she felt as if a heavy burden had been removed from her shoulders. Elsa and Charlie would be able to pick up the reins of running the guest house again–at least she hoped Charlie would be well enough to do so. Of course she would continue working with them until they no longer needed her. She rushed out, prepared to help, but Sandy had everything under control.

  ‘You go on in,’ he said to his two passengers. ‘I’ll bring your luggage.’

  Kirsty threw her arms round Elsa as if she hadn’t seen her for years. Gradually the group made their way inside.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re cooking for us, Kirsty, but it smells delicious,’ Charlie said.

  ‘It won’t be up to Elsa’s standard, but…’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be lovely,’ Elsa said. ‘I’m really looking forward to having a meal made for me in our own restaurant.’

  ‘It’s ready when you are,’ Kirsty said.

  ‘Give us fifteen minutes,’ Elsa said. ‘Is that all right with you, Sandy?’

  ‘Yes, that’s ideal. I’ll just make a quick phone call.’ With that, he left the room, only to reappear a few minutes later. ‘No answer. I’ll try again later.’

  ‘You weren’t by any chance trying to call Amy, were you?’ Kirsty asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Sandy said, colouring slightly. ‘Why do you ask?’

  Kirsty explained how Amy had said she would come over to Lochside Inn, but hadn’t appeared.

  ‘After about an hour, I tried to call her, but there was no reply from Columb Cottage, and her mobile was dead. I hope she’s all right.’

  ‘I couldn’t get a response either,’ Sandy said. ‘Do you think she left the house to come over here?’

  ‘That’s what she planned to do,’ Kirsty said.

  Elsa, who had heard the end of the conversation, said, ‘Why don’t we sit down and eat our meal, then we’ll decide if we need to do anything? We’ll all function better on a full stomach.’

  ‘Good idea,’ Charlie said.

  The table was set for four, although there was a fifth chair without a place setting.

  ‘If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go over to Columb Cottage to make sure Amy’s okay,’ Sandy said. He was about to head out when there was a knock at the door and Amy came rushing in. They all spoke at once.

  ‘There you are!’

  ‘We were beginning to worry about you.’

  ‘What took you so long? Did you have a problem?’

  ‘Would you like to join us for dinner?

  Amy stood for a moment, eyeing the set table, before she answered.

  ‘But you weren’t expecting me for dinner,’ she said.

  ‘I can bring another place setting in two minutes,’ Kirsty said.

  Once they had all finished their meal of smoked salmon then beef casserole with green beans and carrots, followed by Scotch tri
fle, Amy related the problems she’d had on the road. A stranger in a passing car had eventually come along and given her a lift to Lochside Inn. She had left her car, with its punctured tyre, at the side of the road.

  ‘I’ll drive you to where you left it, and have a look at it. We can check that it’s safe, and see about having the wheel changed tomorrow,’ Sandy said.

  ‘If you’re sure,’ Amy said.

  Was there a slight chill in her voice?

  ‘Of course, I’m sure,’ Sandy said.

  As she waved Amy and Sandy goodbye, Kirsty had the distinct impression that they were keeping a distance between them, in every sense of the word.

  Kirsty was aware she had found no opportunity to tell Amy about Adam’s visit, to ask her advice, as a friend, about what she should do if he returned.

  Once they had driven a few miles away from Lochside Inn, Sandy pulled into a passing place and switched off the engine.

  ‘Come here,’ he said, leaning over to embrace her.

  Amy sat stiff and resistant, pulling away from his arms.

  ‘I thought there was something bothering you,’ he said. ‘What’s wrong now?’

  ‘What do you mean now? You say that as if there’s something wrong on a regular basis.’ Amy couldn’t keep the hostility out of her tone. Nor did she wish to.

  ‘I didn’t mean that. It’s just that you’ve been so prickly lately. What’s the matter, darling? I hate this atmosphere developing between us. It’s been coming ever since I proposed to you. Is that it? Is this your way of saying you don’t want to marry me?’ he asked, a tired note in his voice. ‘Because, if it is,’ he continued, ‘maybe we should forget about the whole thing. I thought you loved me. You said you did. Have you changed your mind? Was it one big mistake?’

  ‘No. I do love you, Sandy. You know I do. I just got such a surprise when I walked into that room and there you were, a cosy foursome, ready to spend an evening together. Why do I have this feeling that you and Kirsty–’

  ‘Don’t say another word.’ He rounded on her, clearly attempting to control the anger in his voice. ‘What kind of guy do you think I am? This is the second time you’ve all but accused me of two-timing you. For heaven’s sake, Amy, I love you. I’ve chased you and fought for you. I’ve asked you to marry me. What more can I do?’

  Amy was about to answer, but Sandy launched forth again: ‘I was with Elsa and Charlie after their ordeal at the hospital in Oban. They were both a bit fragile, and wanted to show they appreciated the lift from Craignure. Elsa asked me if I would like to join them for dinner. It so happened Kirsty had made the meal. A cosy foursome? The table was set to include you–Kirsty didn’t know I’d been asked to join them.’

  He sat back in the driver’s seat, staring through the windscreen, as if his outburst had exhausted him.

  Amy finally broke the silence. ‘I’m sorry, Sandy,’ she said, in a small voice. ‘I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I love you. I feel desperate at the thought of losing you. I suppose I see Kirsty as a threat that’s suddenly focused on our relationship. She’s feeling rejected, and she must be hungry for the reassurance of someone who will love and cherish her. She’s a beautiful woman–I’m sure she could have any man she set her cap at.’

  ‘And you think she’s setting her cap at me? You don’t think much of your friend, do you?’ he said bitterly.

  ‘No… I mean, I do…’ she said, tears beginning to gather in her eyes. ‘I don’t think that. Oh, Sandy, I sometimes don’t know what I think. Kirsty’s story has unsettled me. If marriage is something which can come apart at the seams after two years, what’s the point?’

  ‘You think I would do that? Cancel a whole summer together at short notice without consulting you? I must rate pretty low in your estimation.’

  ‘Please don’t say that, Sandy. You know it isn’t true.’

  ‘So, marry me, and stop this nonsense.’

  And suddenly, it made sense.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did I hear right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘if you still want me.’

  ‘Want you? If you knew the hell I’ve been going through… Want you?’

  He reached for her, and this time she leant over willingly into his arms. He rained kisses on every part of her he could reach, almost climbing over the controls of the car. She responded, clutching his jacket, as eager as he was to move to a position where they would be closer.

  From over a hill, the headlights of a vehicle lit up the inside of their car, and they pulled apart, laughing. As the other car passed them, a chorus of toots on the horn blew out encouragement, but Sandy simply reached over and held her hand.

  ‘Amy Wilson, did you just say you would marry me?’

  ‘I did, Sandy McFarlane.’

  ‘So when will you come with me to Glasgow to buy the ring?’

  ‘Engagement ring or wedding ring?’

  ‘Both. I’m not prepared to wait any longer,’ he said.

  As he drove on to where Amy had left her car, he was humming a tune. Was it I’m Getting Married in the Morning?

  Chapter 23

  The following morning, Kirsty got up early to help Elsa in the kitchen. Lochside Inn was open for business as usual, and a few people had come in for breakfast. Although she was happy to have the temporary job there, Kirsty knew she would never like to work in the hospitality trade. Running a restaurant and guesthouse was a 24/7 commitment. Besides, she would never experience the level of satisfaction Elsa did from producing delicious food. No, she would look into what she needed to do to become a primary school teacher. At the age of thirty, she would be a mature student, but there was no harm in that.

  Once the tables were cleared and reset for lunch, the two women sat down for a coffee and chat before the food preparation started once more. Kirsty was anxious to find out about the two missing whisky bottles. She had made one or two attempts to introduce the subject, but realised she was nervous of the reaction from Elsa. In the event, it was Charlie who raised the topic.

  He had been having a long lie, still needing time to recover from his procedure in the hospital. When he eventually headed downstairs, out of habit he made straight for the front door to test the morning air. Suddenly, the two women heard a roar from the hall.

  ‘My whisky!’ Charlie shouted. ‘Where is it?’ He came rushing into the dining room. ‘The whisky bottles. They’ve gone. Have you locked them away somewhere, Elsa?’ There was a note of panic in his voice, and Kirsty’s heart began to beat faster.

  ‘Locked them away? No. They’re already locked in the glass cupboard. Why should I put them somewhere else? Calm down, Charlie. There must be some explanation.’

  ‘Kirsty, have you put them away somewhere?’ he demanded.

  Clasping her shoulders to try and make herself seem smaller, Kirsty had difficulty looking Charlie straight in the eye. She wished she could disappear altogether. His face had turned a bright purple and Kirsty had concerns for his safety.

  ‘No, Charlie, please sit down. I’ll tell you what happened.’

  Elsa went through to the kitchen and returned with a cup of tea. ‘Here, drink this, Charlie, and listen to what Kirsty has to say.’

  Kirsty told them how it was Amy who had first noticed the whisky bottles weren’t in their usual place in the glass cupboard. ‘We didn’t want to worry you–we thought you had enough to deal with in Oban. We discussed phoning the police, but didn’t want to fuss if there was no need to do so. And, since I thought you were coming home yesterday…’

  ‘But the glass case was locked–and there’s no sign of a break-in,’ Charlie said.

  Kirsty was relieved to see that the high colour in his face had subsided.

  At that point, Elsa, looking rather sheepish, said, ‘I’ve a confession to make. I was cleaning the cupboards in the hall, and the glass looked a bit cloudy, so I unlocked the door to give it a good polish…’

  ‘And you didn’t lock it up again?’

 
; ‘I’m not sure. Perhaps I didn’t…’

  ‘Your obsession with cleaning will drive me crazy, Elsa. Have you any idea how valuable those bottles are?’

  ‘If you mean money, I haven’t a clue. I know they’re very precious to you–that’s why I always want the glass to be sparkling clean.’

  Aware the conversation was becoming more heated, Kirsty tried to inject a note of calm into the discussion.

  ‘What’s the story behind these bottles of whisky?’ she asked, although she knew parts of it. ‘Why are they so valuable?’

  Charlie lost no time before he began, clearly happy to have the opportunity to act as storyteller. ‘In 1941, a ship called the SS Politician…’

  Kirsty had heard the tale before, but she let him carry on.

  Elsa took over for a moment. ‘Haven’t you seen the film Whisky Galore, Kirsty?

  ‘Yes, I have. But I didn’t realise it had anything to do with Mull.’

  ‘It didn’t,’ Charlie said. ‘At least, not directly. But news travels fast around these islands, and the lure of 28,000 cases of malt whisky was too strong to resist. Boats put to sea from islands within striking distance to help with the salvaging operation.’ At this point in his narrative, Charlie chuckled, giving the impression he would have loved to be on one of those boats. ‘My grandfather,’ he continued, ‘hitched a ride on a boat that sailed from the island of Benbecula. He was visiting his in-laws there at the time.’

  ‘Or so the tale goes,’ Elsa cut in. ‘It’s always sounded like a tall story to me. I suspect there’s been a lot of embroidering of this account over the years. Besides, I’m not so sure it’s whisky in those bottles. There’s no label on them. It might be cold tea.’

  ‘Nonsense, woman. I know it’s whisky.’

  Kirsty was anxious to hear the end of his tale. ‘So he returned with the spoils?’ she asked, recalling scenes from the old film.