Spirit of the Island

by Joan Fleming

  Amy smiled. ‘He’s the right man for that job,’ she said. ‘I’m sure it’s all in safe hands.’

  ‘Well, I suppose we’ll have to try to get back to normal living again. I’m on call later. What are you up to?’

  ‘I should be working; I’m beginning to fall behind. Life’s been a bit turbulent here recently. If I’m not careful R&R might stop supplying me with clients.’

  ‘Then you’d have to rely on me to support you,’ he said, taking her in his arms. She leaned into him. Enclosed in his embrace, she felt safe, protected. It was such a secure feeling, she wondered how she could ever have doubted that’s where she would like to be.

  ‘Love you,’ he said, breathing in the scent of her newly-washed hair.

  ‘You, too,’ she said. For a moment, she pulled back from his arms, and looked up at him. ‘You realise we’ll have to postpone our trip away together?’

  ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘But I have an idea, which I’ll put to you once we’re both in a better frame of mind. It’s hard to think about ourselves when our thoughts are still so full of Mary.’

  ‘It’s like a parallel existence,’ Amy said. ‘It’ll settle.’

  ‘But that won’t be till after the funeral,’ he said. ‘Then I’ll tell you about my idea.’

  ‘I’m intrigued. Can’t you tell me now?’

  ‘No,’ he said firmly. ‘All in good time. I must go–I’m really running late.’

  He kissed her soundly, then rushed out of Columb Cottage. Amy was instantly aware of the emptiness he left behind.

  Chapter 26

  Kirsty could see people’s lips moving, but the wind stole the words from their mouths, consuming them as it shrieked and howled over the hillside. Raindrops needled her face, seeking out the gap above her collar. Tugging at her scarf, she tried in vain to halt the attack of the water that found her neck and ran unchecked in chilled tears down her back. She shivered.

  This was the second time she had attended a funeral on the island. The minister, who looked as if he had stepped straight out of the pages of the Old Testament, incanted texts that no-one heard. As if to prove its superiority over any man-made ceremony, the wind played havoc with his long white beard, sending it out horizontally like the tattered remnants of a flag of surrender, then curling it round his face, tormenting him as he struggled to make himself heard.

  Kirsty was surprised that the local gravediggers had been able to prepare the grave. The stormy weather must have made digging almost impossible. The pile of earth beside the grave acted as a conduit for the water that ran into Mary’s final resting place, finding its own level.

  As long as she didn’t think about how Mary died, Kirsty felt she could stay in control. Eight men carried the coffin, steam rising from their heads to mingle with the rain. At the graveside, they laid the coffin down. From somewhere in the group assembled on the hillside, a tray bearing a bottle of whisky and nine small glasses appeared. Duncan, the chief mourner, solemnly opened the bottle and poured nine drams. After offering the whisky to the minister and the other pall-bearers, he took the last glass himself.

  ‘Slàinte!’ he shouted.

  ‘Slàinte!’ echoed the others; their Gaelic farewell to Mary.

  Drinking in unison, all nine emptied their glasses then threw them into the grave. They picked up the coffin and lowered it into its burial chamber. As the group bowed their heads in prayer, the minister pronounced his blessing.

  Before they left, some of the mourners picked up a small handful of the rain-soaked earth, and threw it onto the coffin.

  Duncan had arranged for mourners to gather at the hotel in Bunessan after the funeral. For the short journey from the cemetery, the sun made a halting appearance from behind the clouds, its rays mirrored in the wet roads, dazzling eyes already swollen from weeping. The ordeal of the day was not over, but mourners could soon begin to pick up the threads of normal life, abandoned from the moment Mary was reported missing.

  Once Kirsty had dropped her passengers at the door of the hotel, she parked her car. Alone for a few minutes, she reflected on the experience of the morning. The intensity of her grief surprised her. Now she realised she was grieving for Mary, yes, but also for her beloved granny. And for the possible loss of her marriage, the loss of Adam.

  Taking a deep breath, she wiped her eyes and added the tissue to the others she had used during the morning.

  ‘Time to pull myself together,’ she muttered, and eased herself out of the car.

  Before she even entered the hotel, the sound of raised voices reached her. By the time she walked into the cosy lounge, the noise level was deafening. It was as if the silence imposed on the pent-up emotions of the morning had suddenly given way, allowing the mourners release to express their feelings. As she expected, the talk was centred on Mary.

  Armed with a drink, Kirsty moved around the room, greeting people, and listening to their comments.

  ‘She was a one-off, was Mary Benview.’

  ‘Aye, we’ll never see her likes again.’

  ‘I didn’t really know her well, but I heard lots of stories about her,’ Kirsty said.

  ‘If only half of them are true…’ An elderly man, who looked as if he could use the skills of a dentist, made his contribution to the chat.

  The hotel staff had prepared a buffet lunch and Kirsty was astonished to realise she was really hungry. The steak pie looked particularly appetising, and she sat down beside Elsa to enjoy it.

  ‘If you’d asked me two hours ago if I would be having lunch today, I’d have felt ill at the very thought,’ Kirsty said, looking at her empty plate.

  ‘A dram to settle you and the smell of home cooking work wonders for the appetite,’ Elsa said. ‘By the way, did you bring Bess in last night?’

  ‘Yes, she was on the doorstep. I don’t know what made me open the door, but there she was, looking bedraggled and pathetic.’

  ‘Maybe it was Mary’s spirit sent you a message.’

  Kirsty stared at Elsa. There was no hint of a smile on her face. She was not speaking in jest.

  ‘I gave her something to eat,’ Kirsty said. ‘She was starving. What will happen to her now?’

  Elsa smiled. ‘She wanders around the area at times, making her home in any house that’ll have her. I imagine she’ll carry on doing that.’

  ‘Amy told me she spent a night at Columb Cottage while you were away,’ Kirsty said. ‘The night of the storm. But she let her out before morning, and she disappeared.’

  Elsa’s eyes became dreamy. ‘Maybe she sensed Mary was in trouble, and went to find her.’

  * * *

  It was late into the afternoon by the time Kirsty left the Argyll Arms. She stood for a few moments looking over Bunessan Bay, marvelling at the splendour of the views on this island. The sun was starting its descent towards the horizon, promising one of the beautiful sunsets that so often followed a spell of bad weather. The golden glow, filtered by some stray clouds that bounced along in the blustery wind, brought tears to her eyes once again–this time for the beauty of nature on this Scottish island.

  Elsa and Charlie had left earlier, when Charlie began to feel tired. With no passengers, Kirsty was able to allow herself some thinking time to digest the events of the day. She made a detour, driving back along the road towards Fionnphort, giving free rein to her own thoughts. Today, with Mary’s funeral, she had been aware of a greater sense of belonging than she had ever had in the past. Could she live on the island? Deep down, she knew she couldn’t spend all her time here, but the desire to come as a member of the community, and not as a visitor, was growing ever stronger.

  Knowing it was a pipe-dream, but determined to examine the idea nonetheless, she resolved to look into the possibility of acquiring a home of her own on the island. She would have to put her mind to exploring how she could do that, especially when she didn’t even have a job at the moment. Helping out at Lochside was a useful stop-gap by giving her a temporary income, but it certainly wou
ldn’t finance the purchase or even the rent of a property.

  Did this represent moving on from Adam? Making pie-in-the-sky plans for a different kind of future? Her life might no longer be the same no matter what she decided to do. At this moment, a connection with Mull seemed more desirable than the prospect of returning to their marital home in Glasgow, possibly without Adam.

  She hadn’t allowed herself to spend too much time thinking of the reason Adam had visited her at Lochside. Part of her never wanted to see him again, but she was curious about why he had come. It was about a week since his visit, and she had no plans to contact him. It would really be best if she put him out of her mind.

  But her heart still flipped over when she thought about him. Was she really prepared to cut him out of her life completely? Without even an attempt to sort things out between them?

  The decision, she reflected, might not be hers. Perhaps Adam had already made up his mind to end their marriage, but couldn’t find the words to tell her?

  Chapter 27

  Although she still had a couple of weeks before the new school term–and possibly a new contract–Kirsty was beginning to think about returning to Glasgow. She had already stayed at Lochside longer than she had anticipated and Adam hadn’t returned to the Inn, nor had he made any effort to contact her. As each day passed, she tried to harden her heart and focus on the future, a life without Adam; she felt at times as if she was living in no-man’s-land, unsure of where the future would lead her, but afraid to look back. It was too painful.

  Having intercepted a few glances at the absence of rings on her left hand, she knew that the state of her marriage was already a topic of conversation in the area. Gossip spread easily on the island–it was part of the way of life. For a while, Mary Benview’s death had been the most important topic of conversation, but the islanders accepted the cycle of life and death in their own way. Perhaps it was their status in life–living close to the land, rearing sheep, husbanding cattle–that filtered into their whole approach.

  Kirsty wondered if some of this attitude had rubbed off on her, helping her to accept what had happened and move on. She didn’t find it easy. The role of the abandoned woman putting a brave face on it was one she could only maintain for so long. Her jaws ached with the effort of wearing a smile that barely went skin-deep, a mask she felt she had to present when locals arrived at Lochside. It might have been easier if they hadn’t looked at her with eyes full of sympathy, she assumed, for the way her scar changed her appearance.

  * * *

  One afternoon, during the lull between lunch and dinner, Elsa told her there was a man on the phone asking to speak to her.

  ‘Did he give his name?’

  ‘No, sorry, I didn’t ask. He said it was a personal call.’

  All sorts of thoughts ran through Kirsty’s mind before she picked up the handset. Who could it be? The only man she could think of was Adam.

  ‘Hello. Kirsty Mitchell here.’

  ‘Kirsty, it’s Finn. I don’t know if you’ll remember me. I’m the diver who invaded your Inn when my car broke down.’

  ‘Oh yes, I do remember you.’ Kirsty’s thoughts immediately jumped to the missing whisky bottles. The matter had slipped off the agenda with Mary’s death, but would still have to be investigated. No matter how much Elsa and Charlie tried to reassure her, she still felt an element of responsibility since it had happened on her watch. Was this perhaps the reason for Finn’s phone call?

  ‘I thought I would contact you in a more orthodox manner, and ask you if you’d like to come out with me for a meal. I have a few more days left at the diving school, and I could do with some attractive company.’

  Kirsty smiled. The compliment, even if it was probably insincere, was welcome. Unable to know how to react at first, she played for time. There was no reason why she should refuse. Unsure of her status–was she married? Separated? About to be divorced?–she nonetheless felt no emotional commitment at the moment. She played for time.

  ‘I have my meals here at the Inn,’ she said. ‘And I’m working–meal times are busy.’

  ‘What about spending a couple of hours with me in your off-duty time? Morning or afternoon?’

  The oldest selling trick in the world, Kirsty thought. Offer A or B before the client has the opportunity to say no.

  ‘I haven’t said yes yet.’

  ‘But I hope you will.’

  Kirsty found herself agreeing to spend the afternoon with him the following day. Elsa encouraged her to go.

  ‘He sounds a cheerful fellow–you could do with a bit of light-hearted company. And you might manage to find out if he knows anything about Charlie’s whisky.’

  ‘I’ll do my best,’ Kirsty said. She was looking forward to the outing. And if she managed to come back with some information about the whisky, it would help to bring a smile back to Charlie’s face.

  ‘I’m not full of hope,’ Elsa said. ‘If he stole the whisky, he’s scarcely going to spend the time telling you how he did it. Besides, I haven’t mentioned this to Charlie, but I think I left the spare key to the front door under the flower pot that usually stands there. That means anyone could have let himself in while you were out.’

  Kirsty thought for a moment. ‘I moved that flower pot inside when we had warnings about the big storm. I would have seen the key if it had been there.’

  ‘Yes, but the thief might still have it.’

  ‘Oh no! That means he could walk in here when the Inn is empty.’

  ‘Until this is sorted out, I’ll make sure there’s always someone here. I haven’t had a chance to look for the spare key, and I can’t remember which key I gave you.’

  ‘Oh dear, what a mess this is,’ Kirsty said. ‘You could do without it after all the worry about Charlie, and then Mary…’

  ‘You see, we never have to think about security here. People don’t even lock their doors all the time.’

  ‘I dare say this will make you more careful. Which is a pity. It would be lovely to be able to trust people all the time. I remember being a bit careless about locking doors when I went back to Edinburgh after staying with my granny. I got used to leaving doors unlocked while I was here.’

  ‘I suppose you never know who’s wandering around the island these days–there are so many tourists,’ Elsa said, shrugging her shoulders. ‘We just have to live with that.’

  * * *

  The following afternoon, Finn arrived promptly at 3 p.m. Kirsty had enjoyed her preparations–choosing something to wear, washing her hair. Although she’d travelled light, she opted for a blue top which Adam had once told her reflected the colour of her eyes. Jeans or smarter trousers? With no idea where they were heading, she chose her jeans. There were few places on the island where the dress code was formal, especially in the afternoon. Her blonde hair shone as it caught the light. She tied it back in a ponytail; there was no point in leaving it loose, even though the winds were comparatively light that day.

  About to apply her make-up, she looked critically at her face in the mirror. The sea air had brought a bloom to her complexion, highlighting the smoothness of her skin, but it had done little to make her scar less obvious. Since the accident, she needed help from bottles and boxes to camouflage the ugly blemish on her face, but she had neither the time nor the inclination to use them here on the island. I am as I am, she thought. With a whisper of lipstick, the merest hint of eye-shadow, she was almost ready. But she had reckoned without her perfume. When the dusky scent of her favourite perfume filled the air, her memories of Adam were so overwhelming that she was tempted to call off the arrangement. As tears formed, she was glad she hadn’t used any more eye make-up. Giving herself a shake, she swallowed hard and went downstairs to meet Finn.

  He was as handsome as she remembered him, but there was something about his demeanour that was different. He strode over confidently to meet her. No hesitation, but apparently unhurried, a man in complete control of every muscle in his body. He opened his a
rms, then took her in a bear hug, as if he had known her all his life.

  ‘Kirsty, you’re even more beautiful than I remembered you,’ he said. Then, holding her at arm’s length, he gazed at her. ‘Much more beautiful.’

  ‘Flattery will get you nowhere,’ she said with a smile.

  ‘No, I mean it. I told the guys at the diving school I’d met this gorgeous woman, and they suggested I’d better grab you while I had the chance.’

  ‘Grab me?’

  ‘Bloke talk. They didn’t mean it literally. But if the opportunity arises…’

  ‘No chance. Where are you thinking of going?’

  ‘I thought we might take a trip to Tobermory since the weather’s good. But you choose. You know more about the island than I do. How long have we got?’

  ‘Not long enough to go to Tobermory. I have to be here in time to help Elsa serve dinner. We’ve prepared everything for the evening meal, so I should be back by six o’clock.’

  ‘Three hours. Great. Your chariot awaits, madam. Jump in. I’ll give you a hand.’

  And he did mean jump, Kirsty discovered, as she tried to lever herself up into the passenger seat of his car. She could feel his hands on her hips, lingering a little longer than was necessary, but she didn’t find the sensation unpleasant.

  ‘Have you been to Uisken beach?’ Kirsty asked.

  ‘No, I haven’t really travelled round the island much.’

  ‘Okay. Uisken it is. I hope your car is up to the road. Single track, lots of bends.’

  ‘She’s only let me down once,’ he said. ‘And you know all about that.’

  Having parked the car, they made their way to the beach. It seemed so right to walk hand-in-hand. The weather was on their side: blue skies with only a few wispy clouds, and bright sunshine. Yes, it was windy, but they were dressed for the weather. Finn had even given Kirsty an extra jacket to put over her own. It drowned her. What size of chest did this man have?