Spirit of the Island

by Joan Fleming

  ‘A little bit of dirt never harmed anyone. It certainly didn’t harm Mary.’

  It was good to see Elsa looking so relaxed. She’d been under a lot of strain recently, with Charlie’s illness and the stress of Mary’s funeral.

  ‘I said I’d help them, but if you’re busy, I’ll call off.’

  ‘No need. Amy told me there’s a university student writing her dissertation in Bunessan for the next couple of months. Margaret’s her name, but everyone calls her Mags. She’s staying with her cousin, and she’s looking for a temporary job. Amy phoned her, and she says she can start any time. She’s coming tomorrow, so she’ll be able to help me if I need it.’

  ‘I’m glad you’ve found someone, Elsa. I’ll have to think about going back to Glasgow. I hope I’ll hear that I have a contract for next term.’

  ‘And will you be patching things up with Adam?’

  ‘Yes. I’ve made up my mind. I think we should give it another go, see if we can recover from this.’

  ‘I’m glad that’s what you’ve decided. If it doesn’t work this time, at least you’ll know you’ve given it a fair chance,’ Elsa said. ‘But now, it’s time for bed, and I’ll let you return to your book. What are you reading?’

  Kirsty held up her paperback, but she noticed that Elsa wasn’t looking at the title, but at the ring on her finger.

  Kirsty smiled. ‘My ring. Do you like it?’

  ‘It’s beautiful,’ Elsa said, leaning over for a closer look. ‘From Adam, I suppose?’

  ‘Yes,’ Kirsty said. ‘He gave it to me him the other day when we went out together.’

  ‘You’d better not wear it if you’re working in the kitchen,’ Elsa warned. ‘I’d hate to see such a lovely ring disappearing down the plughole.’ She laughed at her own touch of humour; a gentle, relaxed giggle. About to close the bedroom door behind her, she turned and came back into the room. ‘I presume you’ve finished with that lad Finn? Especially if he’s the one who stole Charlie’s whisky.’ Without another word, she closed the door.

  ‘Finished?’ Kirsty muttered. ‘It never really started.’

  * * *

  The following day, Kirsty drove to Benview to join the working party. Duncan, in command as always, handed out plastic gloves to the group and indicated various containers which he’d arranged to collect the contents of Mary’s home.

  ‘We’ll have to keep the rubbish separate from items that can be retained. Once we clean up the artefacts, we’ll put them on display and everyone can stake a claim to any keepsake of Mary they’d like to have. We’ll take any remaining objects to a charity shop. Any questions?’

  No-one had a question. It was a grim task, and people were anxious to start as soon as possible. Once inside, they worked with a will. Poor Mary Benview had clearly been unable, or unprepared, to keep her house in an orderly state, but had been too proud to seek assistance from anyone. Surprisingly, it wasn’t dirty; the untidiness gave the wrong impression.

  With several pairs of willing hands, it didn’t take long to clear out the cottage. Once it was emptied, Kirsty walked around inside. Two rooms, a kitchen and toilet. There was no fitted bathtub, but a large zinc bath must have served instead. In the kitchen a shiny black range would be where Mary had cooked her food and heated the many kettles of water it would have taken to fill the bath.

  As Kirsty walked around, she visualised how the cottage could be upgraded. Adam’s conversion business was doing well at the moment. People were choosing to convert or extend, rather than buy a new house. Her granny had left her a small legacy, which she could use if the cottage were put up for sale. She was sure her granny would have approved of her using it to finance a property on the island. For a few moments, she let her mind wander on the potential of the building: Adam’s firm would be able to create a cosy little home here, which they could use whenever they liked. Perhaps it would help to repair the rift in their relationship: a joint project might be just what they needed.

  A shout from Duncan put a stop to her flights of fancy, but she knew she would return to them at a more convenient time; she must leave her dreams for the moment.

  When Kirsty returned to Lochside, the smell of coffee welcomed her back. Once she had cleaned up, she joined some others in the dining room and found that Mags had already arrived. A tall, young woman, she seemed to dominate the dining room. She looked the essence of efficiency, moving around confidently, serving steaming coffee and homemade scones to the team. Good, Kirsty thought. Elsa has help now. I can make my plans to go back to Glasgow.

  * * *

  Two days later, with some regret at leaving the Ross of Mull, she drove to Craignure to catch the ferry to Oban. Remembering how she had felt when she arrived on the island, she was now in a far happier frame of mind and determined to make every effort to find the love that had brought her and Adam together in the first place.

  When she joined the queue of cars waiting to board the ferry, she glanced down at her ring; Adam’s symbol of his love. Their relationship wouldn’t be perfect. How could it be after what had happened? But perhaps this was a wake-up call.

  The prospect of taking over Benview Cottage could mean she would have an incentive to return to the Isle of Mull for happy rather than sad reasons.

  With Adam.

  Chapter 37

  Feast or famine, Amy decided, was the way life panned out. No sooner had she and Sandy started to make plans for their escape from the island than prospective clients seemed to appear out of the woodwork.

  When she’d first set up her self-employed accountancy business in Mull, Amy had few clients on her books, and wondered if she would be able to make a success of her venture. Now, she was working late into the evening to keep up with the volume of work. Although she was delighted her business was doing so well, the big upheaval in her personal life was looming large on her horizon.

  ‘Why does the surge in business activity not coincide with having the time to attend to it?’ she asked Sandy. ‘Why does it come when you have other demands on your resources?’

  ‘I think it’s called Sod’s Law, my love,’ Sandy said. ‘I hope you’re not going to use pressure of work as yet another delaying tactic to our marriage?’

  ‘You make it sound as if I engineered it, Sandy.’

  He made a grab for her, but she eluded him, running into the kitchen, laughing.

  ‘I’ve got you cornered in here, you can’t escape. Come here.’

  ‘Come and get me,’ she said, crooking her finger, smiling in invitation.

  ‘You minx,’ he said, pulling her roughly to him. ‘There’s only so much a man can take. Roll on the twenty-eighth of August. If you’re going to play the temptress, it might be better if we don’t see too much of each other between now and then.’

  ‘So the date’s set then? Amy asked.

  ‘That’s what I came to tell you. That’s the first date available in Gretna that suits both of us. And, lady, you will be there, supposing I have to put you on my back and carry you.’

  ‘My hero,’ Amy replied, affecting a swoon.

  A knock at the door interrupted their games. ‘Ignore it,’ Sandy said.

  ‘I can’t. Everyone around her must know I’m at home. And your car’s out there, too.’

  She extricated herself from his mock prison and walked through to the living room, where she found Morven, her friend who worked in the village shop.

  ‘Hope I’m not interrupting anything?’ Morven said, her smirk making it clear she knew that was precisely what she had done.

  ‘Not at all.’ Amy tried to ignore the heat that had risen to her face. ‘We were just going to have a cup of tea. Would you like one?’ She raised her voice on cup of tea, hoping Sandy would take the hint.

  ‘I see Sandy’s car’s outside. I can come back another time,’ Morven said. ‘If this is not convenient.’

  ‘I wouldn’t hear of it. You know you’re welcome any time,’ Amy said, adding in a louder voice, ‘Make that tea for
three, Sandy.’

  When the trio sat down to tea and shortbread, Morven explained the reason for her visit. ‘Am I right in thinking that Kirsty might be interested in Mary Benview’s cottage?’

  ‘I believe so,’ Amy replied. ‘But I don’t know for sure. Why do you ask?’

  ‘If she is, she should make up her mind quickly. I’ve heard there are other people viewing it, presumably thinking about a purchase. Kirsty has already left Lochside–do you have a contact for her?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ Amy said. ‘Would you like me to give her a call and let her know?’

  ‘Yes, if you don’t mind. We all feel we owe some loyalty to Kirsty, with Flora having lived here. She might be best to look into it sooner rather than later.’

  ‘It’s good of you to think of her, Morven. I’ll let her know.’

  Sandy, who had allowed the two women to chat without taking part in the conversation, clearly felt he could legitimately leave without appearing rude.

  ‘Well, I’ll be off then,’ he said, giving Amy a chaste peck on the cheek as he left. ‘Bye, Morven.’

  ‘You should let that fellow make an honest woman of you,’ Morven said, once he’d driven off. ‘You’ve kept him dangling on a string for too long. If you’re not careful, it’ll be like Mary Benview’s cottage: someone might come along and snatch him from under your nose.’

  ‘Mm… maybe…’

  ‘So what’s holding you back? You’re head-over-heels in love with him, and Sandy can’t keep his eyes off you for two minutes. Give the guy a break. If he hasn’t asked you, take the bull by the horns and propose to him.’

  After Morven left, Amy smiled to herself. Although her friend didn’t know it, she and Sandy had already taken steps to do exactly as she instructed.

  Later in the evening, Kirsty phoned, in response to the voicemail message Amy had left her.

  ‘Hi, Kirsty. I had a visit from Morven earlier today…’ Amy began, then proceeded to pass on the information about the possible interest in Mary Benview’s cottage.

  ‘Thanks for the heads-up, Amy. I’d better make a decision quickly.’

  ‘And how’s life with you?’ Amy asked, hoping she might hear if things were working out well with Adam.

  ‘Fine, thanks. I hope all’s going well in the Ross of Mull,’ Kirsty said, a non-committal answer that sent no coded information to Amy.

  ‘Yes, we’re busy here, but no drama.’

  Chapter 38

  Four weeks later

  Sandy and Amy’s elopement didn’t start well. A last-minute medical emergency held Sandy up in Fionnphort, leaving them late to catch the Craignure to Oban ferry.

  ‘We’re all packed and ready to go,’ Sandy said. ‘Let’s head for Craignure, and if we miss the boat, we can drive on to Fishnish. It’s only about ten minutes further on, and we’ll catch the ferry over to Lochaline.’

  ‘Yes, I’d like that,’ Amy said. ‘It’s a long time since I used that short crossing. It runs all day, I think.’

  As they drove, Amy checked the times of the crossing on her mobile.

  ‘The boat runs from seven in the morning till seven at night. It only takes eighteen minutes. Let’s stop rushing, Sandy, and just head to Fishnish. It’ll be interesting, and the drive down to Glasgow through Glencoe will be lovely.’

  ‘That chap Finn must have been diving in the stretch of water we’ll be crossing. The Sound of Mull’s a good hunting ground for divers; there are a number of wrecks of ships that have sunk there. I wonder if he went home with any treasure?’

  ‘Good luck to him if he did. As long as it wasn’t Charlie’s whisky,’ Amy said.

  ‘Charlie’s whisky… I’d forgotten all about that. Didn’t you say Kirsty reckoned he had nothing to do with it?’

  ‘Yes, but you never know.’

  When they arrived at Fishnish, they took their place in the queue of cars waiting to board.

  ‘It’s quite busy,’ Sandy said. ‘We may have to wait a while. I’m sure there are enough cars in front of us to fill the boat for the first crossing.’

  ‘Yes. It’s still summer holiday season.’

  ‘I’m on holiday, too,’ he said, leaning over to give her peck on the cheek. ‘With my bride-to-be. Let’s wait outside, enjoy the sun for a while.’

  Overhead, the seagulls swirled round the landing stage, cawing as they staked their place to take advantage of the feeding possibilities of the approaching boat. Like Amy and Sandy, most passengers had come out of their cars and were enjoying a picnic, leaning on the warm paintwork of their vehicles. The birds swooped on every crumb dropped, fighting off opposition from smaller birds.

  ‘The air smells different here,’ Amy said. ‘I wonder why?’

  ‘Maybe it’s because it’s mainland Scotland we’re looking over to from here. In Fionnphort, apart from Iona, there’s no landmass between us and America.’

  ‘Mm… Could be… It’s lovely, anyway,’ Amy said, taking deep breaths to fill her lungs.

  Once the ferry boat came into view, they focused their attention on the sailing ahead. As the line of cars inched forward, they hoped there would be space for them on the first crossing. Although the MV Loch Fyne was much smaller than the MV Isle of Mull, which ran from Craignure to Oban, she could carry thirty-six cars. There was space for their car, with room to spare.

  ‘We’ll still have the little Corran Ferry to catch,’ Sandy said. ‘And then we’re really on our way.’

  Their journey to Glasgow took them through Glencoe–scene of the infamous massacre in 1692, when members of Clan Campbell, who were guests of Clan MacDonald, turned on their hosts and put them to the sword.

  As the couple drove through the Glen, the sun disappeared behind a cloud and the atmosphere became less welcoming–almost as if the mountains on both sides recalled the outrageous killings.

  Amy shuddered. ‘At least the feud between the two strands of the McFarlane family didn’t lead to bloodshed,’ she said, referring to the rift that developed between Sandy’s branch of the family and hers.

  ‘And the end of that will be sealed when we get married. We’ll be one McFarlane family again,’ Sandy said.

  When they arrived in Glasgow, where they were staying with Kirsty and Adam, Amy was pleased to see her friend looking more relaxed, as if she was comfortable now in her relationship with Adam. Her blonde hair fell naturally–she made no attempt to hide her scar, nor did she draw attention to it by touching it constantly.

  The following morning, refreshed after a good night’s sleep, Amy and Sandy set off for the jeweller’s. They planned to go to the Argyll Arcade, the Hatton Garden of Scotland, where there were more than thirty jewellers. Situated in the centre of the city, it linked busy Argyle Street and Buchanan Street. As they strolled hand-in-hand, they were spoiled for choice.

  ‘How on earth can we decide? We don’t even know where to start,’ Amy said.

  ‘You should have been down here window shopping,’ Sandy said, teasing. ‘You at least might have chosen a jeweller…’

  ‘Well, I didn’t have much warning, did I?’

  ‘And whose fault was that?’

  Amy could feel her eyes smarting as she studied the displays in the shop windows. Each one dazzled more than the last. All at once, she stopped.

  ‘Let’s try in here,’ she said.

  The atmosphere inside the shop was a total contrast to the echoing conversations that filled the arcade. It was like a cocoon, created to encase the small space where important–and pricey–business was to take place.

  ‘Can I help you?’ a suited assistant asked. His solemnity made Amy want to giggle, but Sandy took over and his voice suggested total control of the situation.

  ‘Yes. We’re looking for an engagement ring. And possibly a wedding ring.’

  The assistant pulled out two chairs. ‘Please sit down,’ he said. ‘Would you be thinking of a matching pair? We have linked engagement and wedding rings.’ With a flourish, he unrolled a midnight b
lue velvet jewellery cloth and placed it on the counter. A deft flick produced a tray of rings that sparkled below the overhead lights.

  ‘Has the lady anything particular in mind?’

  ‘Ask the lady,’ Sandy said, a slight irritation in his voice.

  Unfazed, the assistant continued. ‘Is there anything on this tray that appeals, madam?’

  Amy stared at the glittering array. How could she choose from so many?

  ‘Perhaps you would like to try a few, see what they look like on your finger?’ the assistant offered.

  Once Amy had selected a number of engagement rings, her preferences became clearer. If asked, she would have said a solitaire diamond, but the more she saw of the linked engagement and wedding ring combination, the more she liked that idea.

  When she told the assistant what appealed to her, he smiled.

  ‘We might have just what you’re looking for,’ he said. ‘Excuse me.’ Locking up the trays of rings he’d put on the counter, he retreated to the rear of the shop. When he re-appeared, he was carrying yet another tray. Solitaire diamonds of all sizes glinted up at her. Finally, she spied one that was slightly different. In the wedding ring, there was a tiny triangular groove, which was matched by a flange on the engagement ring. Amy tried them on her finger: first the engagement ring on its own, then both rings together.

  ‘What do you think?’ she asked Sandy.

  ‘Your call, darling. Do you like those?’

  ‘But do you like them?’

  ‘Yes, but you’re the one who’ll be wearing them. Whatever you choose will be right.’

  Amy tried on a few more of the linked rings, but kept returning to her original choice. Finally, she made up her mind.

  ‘Is that all right, Sandy?’ she asked.

  ‘Allow me to take care of the financial side of things. Your job’s done.’