Awakening

by David Munro

  “You’re in demand!” I quipped.

  She stopped, and looked at me. “I lost my purse last night.”

  “In the hotel?”

  “Yes.”

  As she walked on, I went to catch a tram into the centre of Edinburgh, where I could take a train from Haymarket Station to Glasgow Queen Street Station. Approaching the nearby tram stop, one had just arrived, and people boarded. I paid my fare, and took a seat for the start of a five-hour trek to Dochar. On the tram, I was the only person not dressed for the start of winter. Oh, to get home and be warm in my own habitat.

  The single-decker white-livery mode of transport hurtled along Corstorphine Road and soon reached Haymarket. I got off at a stop on Haymarket Terrace, opposite the station. When I arrived at a pedestrian crossing, a young woman and teenage boy waited. Winter sun shone down, therefore, I put a hand above my eyes to see the proceed signal. When safe, the teenage boy and young woman moved off, and I followed. Then, I heard a motorbike engine and a police vehicle siren. As the motor bile sped towards the young woman and boy, I rushed forward and pushed them out of its path.

  CHAPTER 13 - A NEW DAWN

  Arriving within minutes, two officers got out of a police car. The area was then cordoned off, and traffic in both directions opposite Haymarket Station diverted. Whilst onlookers comforted the ashen-faced young woman and teenage boy, a second police car drew up, followed by an ambulance. A medical crew rushed out, carefully lifted the injured man onto a stretcher, and took him into the ambulance. After it sped off, a female police officer approached the young woman who began to sob. The officer gave her a paper handkerchief, and she wiped her eyes. “I couldn’t move.” Her voice grew raspy. “The motorbike was heading for me.”

  The young woman looked at the boy holding his arm as a consequence of falling onto the pavement being spoken to by another police officer. A well-dressed lady came up to the young woman. “Are you hurt?”

  She sniffed, and shook her head.

  “Don’t blame yourself, it was that clown driving the bike.” She gently touched the young woman’s arm.

  Once more, she sniffed.

  “A brave man.” The lady looked at where the accident occurred.

  The young woman nodded.

  “He didn’t have time to avoid the bike,” said a male onlooker.

  The lady sighed.

  As police officers questioned onlookers, the young woman stared at them, and the female police officer returned. “We would like a statement from you at some point.”

  The young woman nodded.

  “What is your name?”

  “Victoria, Victoria Anderson.”

  “When you feel better, Victoria, call into your nearest police station.”

  “What about the man who saved me?”

  “At present, his condition is not known.”

  The police officer departed, and the well-dressed lady returned, then stared at a small suitcase.

  “I was on my way to Jersey.” The young woman sighed. “Now, I don’t feel like going.”

  “A vacation?”

  “To visit my mother, she isn’t well.” The young woman looked at her watch. “I will miss my flight.”

  The lady went across to the female police officer taking a statement, and after a short conversation, both returned to the young woman.

  “When is your flight?” said the officer.

  The young woman glanced at her watch. “I should have been at the airport by now.”

  “The other police car will give you a lift to Edinburgh Airport.”

  The lady smiled.

  “At the check-in desk, explain what has happened, and if you have any problem, ask them to contact Torphichen Police Station.”

  “Thanks, and when I return, I’ll call into my local police station.”

  “Fine.” The police officer smiled.

  The young woman lifted her suitcase, walked towards the police car, which had arrived following the incident. The well-dressed lady looked towards the young woman. “To witness what has happened and then visit a sick mother.”

  “She shows composure.”

  The well-dressed lady stared at the area cordoned off with investigative police officers going about their business. “Motorbikes.” She shook her head.

  As soon as the young woman got into the police car, it sped off. Due to a distinctive appearance, the vehicle eased through busy traffic, and soon arrived at the airport. After thanking both officers, the young woman rushed into the main building and then to her flight check-in desk. Glancing at the time, she reached the desk where an airline representative had a pensive look on her face.

  “Sorry I’m late. I witnessed an accident.” The young woman put down her suitcase, and took a deep breath.

  The well-groomed female representative looked towards a wall clock. “The flight to Jersey will soon depart.”

  “You can contact Torphichen Street Police Station to verify my story.” The young woman held an airline ticket in her hand.

  “You will have to rush.”

  She handed her ticket to the representative.

  The representative took it, and moments later, the young woman went into a departure lounge, found a vacant seat, and unbuttoned her raincoat. Whilst she pondered over the recent traumatic event, a man sitting beside her sneezed several times, then blew his nose. The young woman glanced at the man with cropped silver hair wearing a dark overcoat.

  “When November arrives, so does my cold!”

  “It’s that time of year.”

  The man looked upwards to the departure screen. “Ah, at last.”

  Passengers for Jersey left their seats, and headed towards the respective departure Terminal. Keeping her distance from the man, the young woman could hear a fit of sneezing behind her.

  The flight left as scheduled, and after releasing her seat belt, the young woman leaned forward to lift out a catalogue from the seat pocket in front. Following an uninteresting browse, she replaced the catalogue, and leaned back. Hearing someone sneeze several rows in front, she popped her head up, and observed the silver-haired man blow his nose. A forty-something gentleman in a camel coat sitting next to the young woman reading a paperback, put it down, and looked forward. “Thank goodness that chap is not in this row!”

  The young woman nodded, then glanced at the well-spoken gentleman’s paperback cover.

  “I purchased it at the airport.”

  “Is it a good read?”

  “Ask me later, a business colleague recommended it to me.”

  “A male colleague?”

  “Female.” The gentleman gave a faint grin. “She believes it will improve our relationship.”

  He has the correct shade of hair.

  As the gentleman returned to his book, the young woman closed her eyes and made herself comfortable. She thought of her mother’s condition, hoping there had been an improvement, however little. As her mother hated being confined to a particular place, the young woman longed for the day she would be discharged from hospital. A sudden jolt broke her train of thought, and her fellow passenger shook his head. “Glad it happened now and not when drinking a coffee.”

  The young woman looked behind. “Here comes your coffee.”

  A dark blue uniformed stewardess served drinks on both sided of the aisle, then once more, the aircraft jolted and liquid spilled onto the unfortunate gentleman. A stifled curse followed, and when the stewardess looked towards the young woman, she declined. The airline employee handed the gentleman a white paper napkin, and he dabbed his coat.

  “Would you like a drink sir?” She took the damp napkin from him.

  “A white coffee, please.”

  He put the book aside, and after receiving his drink, placed it on a black tray attached to the seat in front.

  The stewardess smiled. “On the house.”

  Again, the young woman lay back and closed her eyes. A short time later, she fell asleep, however, soon woke up.

  �
�Are you alright?” The gentleman stared.

  The young woman blinked.

  “You are as white as a ghost!”

  “I had a flashback.”

  “A bad occurrence?”

  The young woman nodded.

  “You were murmuring.”

  “Before arriving at the airport, I was almost hit by a motorbike, but I was pushed out of its path.” The young woman paused. “He was hit by the bike.”

  “How is he?”

  “An ambulance took him to hospital.” The young woman stared out of the small circular window.

  One chilly dark November evening, a male and female police officer arrived at a first-floor tenement flat in Lorne Street, Leith. Soon after pressing the doorbell, a young woman with long blonde hair and casually dressed, answered.

  “Victoria Anderson?” said the male officer.

  “Yes.”

  “We are here concerning the man hit by a motorbike, opposite Haymarket Station.”

  The young woman looked at both officers. “Come in.” She opened the door wide.

  As both officers stepped into a narrow hallway, the young woman closed the door, and led them into a small bright lounge. The female officer glanced at the tastefully decorated room.

  “Please, have a seat.”

  The officers sat down on a brown leather two-seater couch, and their host opposite on a single matching chair. “How is he?”

  “I am afraid he died from his injuries,” said the male officer.

  The young woman sighed. “A local man?”

  “His name was James Carsell-Brown, and from personal documents, we have discovered that last month he visited St Helier, in Jersey, and left on 1 November.”

  The young woman paused. “A man called James stayed at my mother’s guest house in St Helier.” She put a hand to her mouth. “Oh, no!”

  “We can’t trace any family to inform them of his death,” said the female officer, “are you aware of anyone?”

  The young woman shook her head.

  “His address is a property in Dochar, near Ardrishaig,” said the male officer.

  “My mother was born and brought up in Dochar.”

  The male officer looked at his colleague, then the young woman.

  “When growing up, they must have known each other,” said the young woman.

  “Would your mother know of his family?” said the male officer.

  “She is in hospital and very ill.” The young woman sighed. “Her memory is impaired.”

  “Mr Carsell-Brown’s funeral will be held at Warriston Crematorium.”

  “Why in Edinburgh if he lived near Ardrishaig?”

  “He wanted it that way,” said the female officer.

  Both officers got up, and accompanied to the door. After they had left, the young woman returned to the living room, and stared at a painting on the wall given to her mother many years ago.

  The two officers entered their police car, parked outside the block of flats. The female officer looked at her colleague, then he nodded. “An uncanny resemblance in that painting to our mystery deceased person.”

  “A nineteenth century coachman!” The female officer adjusted her hat.

  When the male officer turned the ignition key, a stocky middle-aged man staggered out of a nearby public house, and spotted the white, yellow and blue vehicle. Straightening up, he passed it, and took a deep breath. After the police car moved off, he bumped against a recycle bin and as it fell sideways, rubbish emptied onto the pavement. Hearing a dog bark, the man made himself scarce.

  Following a short private service at Warriston Crematorium, the minister approached Victoria with a warm smile. His white thinning hair was a distinctive contrast to dark sober attire. “Thank you for attending the service.”

  “His bravery saved me from serious injury, if not death.”

  “In his Will, James had a special request.”

  Victoria paused.

  “He wanted his ashes scattered around Docharnea, his property in a place called Dochar, near Ardrishaig.”

  “Docharnea?”

  “The name of James’s property. Would you carry out his final wish?”

  Victoria nodded. “It will be my pleasure.”

  “Are you aware of the location?”

  “Yes, my mother came from there.”

  The minister raised his white eyebrows. “What an extraordinary coincidence.”

  Victoria smiled.

  “On the day you travel, call into the Crematorium, and I will give you his ashes.”

  “I will do.”

  “Splendid.” The minister shook Victoria’s hand.

  As Victoria left the Crematorium, she reflected on recent events. A man who saved her life, and as a consequence, ended his. If she had caught her scheduled Friday flight, this man may still be alive.

  “Excuse me, miss, do you have a light?” said a male passer-by.

  Victoria hesitated.

  The man held up his cigarette.

  “Sorry, I don’t smoke.”

  The man walked on and Victoria headed for a nearby bus stop where she boarded a bus to Leith Walk. After paying her fare, Victoria sat at a downstairs window seat and then the heavens opened. Whilst people ran for cover, the fortunate ones had an umbrella to protect themselves from being drenched. Before Victoria got off, the rain stopped, and whilst walking, she could smell it. Entering the flat, Victoria wiped her damp shoes on a mat, and closed the door. Whilst removing her dark coat, the handset on a small wooden table started to ring, and she picked it up. “Hello?” Victoria paused. “Hello?”

  She replaced the handset, went into the kitchen, and whilst preparing a cup of coffee, the handset rang. Returning to the hall, Victoria grabbed the handset. “Yes,” she shouted.

  “Can I speak to Victoria Anderson, please?”

  “Speaking.” Victoria coughed.

  “My name is Jane Mackay of Macmillan Mackay Solicitors, in Ardrishaig. Is it a bad time, would you prefer I called back at a convenient time?”

  “Did you say Ardrishaig?”

  “Yes, we are located in the main street.”

  “Why are you calling?”

  “A client of ours who sadly passed away, has left his property to you.”

  “Me!”

  “We sent you a letter.”

  “I didn’t receive it.”

  “Our client was a Mr James Carsell-Brown.”

  My goodness.

  “The property is located near Ardrishaig.”

  “How did you trace me?”

  “Mr Carsell-Brown supplied us with your details. We require your signature for documents relating to the transfer of ownership, therefore, I will forward them to you.”

  “No need, I am travelling to Ardrishaig within the next couple of days.”

  “Perfect! Call into our office, and either myself or Mr Macmillan, will go through the process with you.”

  “Thanks.”

  “My pleasure, Miss Anderson.”

  “Did you try to contact me earlier?”

  “This is the first time I have called.”

  “Bye.”

  “Goodbye, Miss Anderson.”

  Victoria replaced the handset into the cradle. A property! Why me?

  She returned to the kitchen, and later sipped a cup of coffee, whilst pondering over her recent call. Then, as she heard ringing, Victoria rushed into the hall, and picked up the handset. “Hello?”

  No voice could be heard, only a crackle, and several seconds later, it stopped.

  Victoria collected James Carsell-Brown’s ashes from the Crematorium, and began the journey to Dochar, in rural Argyll. She caught a bus to Waverley Station, then boarded the train bound for Glasgow Queen Street Station.

  Forty-five minutes later, the sleek, multiple-unit, with blue and white livery, entered the Glasgow terminal. With a small case, Victoria walked the short distance to Buchanan Street Bus Station for her Dochar connection.

  When she arriv
ed at the designated coach stance, a large queue had formed for the twice-daily service. A petite woman turned to face Victoria and her deep wrinkles suggested a long existence. “At least I’ll get a seat this time.”

  Victoria looked at her.

  “On my previous journey, I had to stand!”

  “Did no gentleman give up his seat?”

  The woman shook her head. “Chance would be a fine thing.”

  After all passengers had boarded, the coach departed for a two and a half-hour scenic journey via Loch Lomond, Arrochar and Inveraray. Victoria would be travelling back to where her mother lived until leaving for university, therefore, the trip was also sentimental.

  As the coach travelled through lush green fields and hills, Victoria gazed out of the window, and given that it was December, mild weather persisted. The once freezing snow-filled countryside now fell victim to an abundance of rain, resulting in road closures through landslides.

  After Inveraray, Victoria glanced at her watch, and in forty minutes, she would arrive in Dochar. As a child, hearing stories about this quaint remote hamlet from her mother, Victoria became intrigued. Extreme in contrast to bustling vibrant Edinburgh, Dochar conjured up tales of fantasy.

  When a particular road sign appeared, Victoria’s apprehension grew. After the coach departed, she laid her case on the pavement, and looked around the location, then across to Loch Fyne. Its banks on the waterfront and green hills above were stunning. Victoria shivered, however, not due to the scenic beauty, but the inclement unsheltered stop. Turning up the collar of her coat, and wishing for a scarf, Victoria walked along the narrow pavement. Approaching a row of large distinctive properties, she stopped and put down her case. A green wreath with red ribbons had been placed upright against one of the cream-coloured gateposts. As Victoria bent down to read a message attached to the wreath, a sudden gust of wind blew into her face, and also scattered a pile of nearby brown leaves. She flicked back her long blonde hair, picked up the case and wreath, then walked up Docharnea’s driveway. Upon reaching the villa’s main door, Victoria put down her case, and laid the wreath against the door. Opening her case, she took out a small grey casket containing James’s ashes and then a gust of wind blew dead leaves away from the entrance. Victoria hesitated, then scattered the casket’s contents over Docharnea’s lawn. When finished, she closed the casket, and laid it next to the wreath. Being curious, Victoria walked round the property, then back down its driveway. With Ardrishaig a half-mile away, her tight black shoes would be a hindrance, then, a white Porsche drew up alongside. As she looked round, a well-dressed gent stepped out the driver’s side. “Victoria Anderson?”