‘Was this before Bren converted the Fishergirl’s Luck?’
‘Oh yes. Back then it was storage for the family’s fishing clobber.’
‘Let me guess,’ Anna said. ‘McKean thought he was getting the shed in with the bargain.’
‘Got it in one. But Bren had already got her dad to put it in writing that the place belonged to her. She’d even paid him for it out of the money she’d earned from the herring, to make sure there could be no dispute. The deed should be with the solicitor – you’ve never seen it?’
‘I never thought to ask for it. I should – I’d like to see it.’
‘Bren left it with them for safekeeping. Just in case.’ He laughed at her expression. ‘Not necessarily because she thought Dougie would try to steal it. I don’t think even he would go that far, and it can only ever have been about a point of principle. But so many lost boats and property in the 1953 storm. I think Bren wanted to make sure it would be easy to find in case the place was ever badly damaged by another event like that.’
Anna looked out over the water, shaking her head. How she wished she could have known Bren MacKenzie. Even this brief description had painted in her mind a picture of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted and had no intention of ever being talked out of it.
‘She started converting the place bit by bit way back in the 1940s,’ Robert went on. ‘First using her own savings from the herring and then what her father had left her. She bought her own boat – it was only a small dinghy, but still, it meant she could fish for herself in-shore if she wanted. She’d have been in her late twenties, early thirties then. Barbara says everyone saw it as a bit of a joke at the time. They always expected Bren to give the place up and finally get married, even though she was an old maid by that point. But she never did. I think, actually, that accounts for some of Dougie’s bitterness. I think he might have asked her at some point.’
‘What? To marry him?’
Robert nodded. ‘Not that he’s ever told me that, or ever would.’
‘Maybe he’d thought that being given her dad’s property meant he’d get Bren too.’
‘Maybe. Anyway, neither of them ever married. When Bren died I actually offered to let him move into the place. His needs so much work, and he can’t keep up with it. It’s getting worse every year. But he point-blank refused. “I’ll not set one foot in that harpy’s hovel” were his exact words.’
‘ “The Fishergirl’s Luck”,’ Anna mused. ‘Even the name sounds defiant to me now. Do you know why she called it that?’
Robert smiled. ‘I think even that might have been a bit of a dig at Dougie, to be honest. He was one of the men who’d taunted her for wanting to be out fishing. But in the end, Bren’s dinghy was the only boat left in Crovie harbour, and she went out fishing from it until she was well past eighty.’
Anna shook her head. ‘I wish I could have met her.’
‘I think she would have liked you,’ Robert said. ‘And I think she’d tell you to ignore Douglas McKean in exactly the same way she did all her life.’ He looked at his watch. ‘And now we should start back,’ he said. ‘Robbie’s at an afterschool club but he’ll be home soon. I’m with the lifeboat tonight so I’ll have to bunk at Macduff. I want to be there for supper so I can have some time with him first.’
‘Who looks after him when you have to work?’
‘Barbara. She lives two doors down.’
‘I think I’ve met her, you know,’ Anna said, thinking of the woman who had marched towards her to circle Crovie’s north and south poles on that first morning she’d been in the village. ‘She seemed a force to be reckoned with.’
‘She’s a wonder,’ said Robert, ‘and without her I’d be in even more of a mess than I am.’
Anna smiled as they headed for Cassie’s Joy. ‘You don’t seem to be in a mess at all.’
Robert MacKenzie gave a snort. ‘Don’t you believe it.’ He stopped and looked back at the cliff, as if contemplating something for a moment. Then he turned to Anna. ‘I’ve got something I want to show you. Come on.’
He took off back across the sand, towards the cliff. Anna followed, only hesitating when she saw him start to climb, fitting the toes of his boots into crevices he seemed to know were there. He reached a wide lip in the rock and turned, crouching to offer her his hand. Anna hesitated.
‘It’s all right,’ said Robert. ‘Trust me. It’s worth it.’
She slipped her hand into his and pushed her toes into the same crevices she had seen him climb. Robert’s hand gripped hers hard and pulled her up. Once she’d found her footing he let her go and turned back towards the cliff face right in front of them.
‘Look,’ he said.
For a moment she was confused. There seemed to be nothing worthy of attention there at all. Then Robert stepped forward, placing one large hand flat against the stone with his thumb and fingers splayed to create a right angle.
‘There. You see?’
Anna peered closer. Inside the space roughly encapsulated by his hand she could make out a series of marks, too deliberate to be caused by erosion or element.
‘They’re petroglyphs,’ said Robert.
‘But – how?’ Anna said, astonished. ‘Who left them there?’
Robert moved out of the way to let her take a closer look. ‘There are examples all along the coast. There’s a cave at Covesea that’s full of them. There aren’t any more here, only these. I’ve never heard anyone else mention them either. I don’t think anyone knows about them but Robbie and me. And now you.’
‘I can’t believe you found them at all,’ Anna said, her eyes tracing the fading shapes. ‘How did you ever see them in the first place?’
Robert was silent for a moment. When Anna looked over her shoulder at him, he was looking away from her, but then he turned back with a faint smile.
‘I didn’t. It was Cass. She always did have eagle eyes. Spotted those that first time she brought me here, while I was down on the beach, shaking wet sand out of my shoes, shouting at her to be careful and wondering if she was ever going to kiss me.’
Anna turned back to the shapes. She reached out, pressing a gentle fingertip to the marks in the cold cliff face, trying to make sense of them. They lined up close beside one another: thin, deep scrapes at angles to each other. Below the first group was a second, and between them a single symbol.
‘What are they?’ she asked. ‘Do you know? What does it mean? Are they words?’
Robert moved closer again, his bulk cutting out the brisk wind as he leaned over her shoulder.
‘Cassie wanted to believe that they’re names.’
‘Names?’
He reached out, touching his fingers to where Anna’s had been only a second before. ‘When I was fifteen – actually, the week before that first date – I carved my name next to hers on the apple tree in my parents’ garden,’ he said. ‘With a heart in between.’
Anna realized what he meant. ‘She thought this might have been two lovers, doing the same?’
‘The thought always made me sad, to be honest.’
‘Sad? Why?’
He dropped his hand and stuck it into his pocket. ‘Because they couldn’t possibly have known,’ he said quietly. ‘They couldn’t possibly have known, when they were carving it, that this was all that would survive of them. That this is all they would leave behind.’
The wind was rising, whistling around them as it buffeted against the cliff, which was huge and eternal, made of age itself and carrying with it the only aspect of humanity that is as ageless, the only indelible thing that cannot be corrupted by time or infirmity.
‘But they have survived,’ Anna said. ‘Here they are, in the stone, whoever they were. They were here, together. They were loved and they loved in turn. What else does survive of us, whoever we are and whatever we leave, in the end?’
Robert didn’t look at her, even when she turned her head, even though he was close enough that the wind had spread her hair ac
ross his shoulder. She saw him swallow, instead, and take a breath as if suddenly the wind had stolen his air.
‘Cassie said the same thing,’ he told her. ‘She loved this place so much. I should have carved our names up there, beside these. I should have made us both a part of this cliff. Maybe then—’
Robert stopped himself and in the next moment had moved away. Anna continued looking at the rock, at the short series of marks that seemed so inconsequential but had come to mean so much.
‘Well, would you look at that,’ Robert said behind her a moment later. ‘The dolphins have come to see you.’
Anna turned and looked out over the water. There, in the depths beyond Cassie’s Joy, was a pod of dolphins, sleek grey commas leaping in curving splashes up, and up, and up again.
Sweet selkie lass,
The boy and me met the woman who’s taken Bren’s bothy. Bren would like her, I think. And I think you two would be friends. Robbie wants us to take her out to meet his dolphins.
Love you.
PS: No beetroot. I got home and it wasn’t in the bag.
PPS: I’ll call Miss Carmichael myself, then?
PPPS: How does a chef called Anna wash up here of all places, on our wild and narrow shore?
Fourteen
As April faded into May, the weather set fair again, the longer days warmed by a sun that seemed to shine without pause from dawn until dusk. Over the bank holiday weekend, Liam’s bench hosted its largest gathering yet. Finally, with somewhere larger than her miniature front room to entertain, Anna could invite the entirety of the group that Frank habitually referred to as ‘the Usual Suspects’. Though Anna saw Rhona, Pat and Frank regularly, and still had her customary walk along the cliffs whenever David and Glynn were in residence, she hadn’t had the chance to get to know Marie and Philip or Terry and Susan very well at all.
‘I love the planters you’ve put out,’ Marie said, admiring the old terracotta chimneys that Anna had dragged back from an antiques place she’d found in Portsoy and filled with bright pansies and scarlet begonias. ‘And the strings of fairy lights, too.’
‘It looks great,’ Philip agreed, over the hubbub that had enveloped Anna’s garden beneath the tiny glittering lights she’d strung up above their heads. ‘I’ve always thought this bit of concrete was something of a lost cause, but you’ve transformed it.’
‘Rhona’s been telling us about the lunch club,’ Susan added. ‘Have you heard about this?’ she asked the rest of the gathered friends. ‘It sounds like a brilliant idea.’
Anna explained again about her plans for Liam’s bench, and was relieved that the idea seemed to be met with universal approval.
‘When are you going to start?’ Terry asked.
‘All being well, the fifteenth of May,’ Anna said, ‘so two weeks from now. I’ve got quite a lot to organise before I go ahead.’
‘Tell me about it,’ laughed Rhona. ‘I’d better get a move on, eh? I left four plates glazing in the kiln before I left but I’ve still got a ways to go.’
Rhona had been the beneficiary of Anna’s razor clam harvest. Over dinner and wine the evening she and Old Robbie had brought them back, Anna had explained her plan. Rhona’s enthusiasm had been touching, as had her insistence on making a set of plates and dishes especially for the table.
‘I’m gutted that we won’t be around,’ David said, as Glynn nodded. ‘We’re away down to Manchester for a wedding that weekend. Although you don’t want us cluttering up your table, I suppose – we’d edge out all the real customers!’
‘I’m not even sure there will be any such people,’ Anna said. ‘I’ve already got Pat and Frank on standby in case I have no takers.’
‘That’s not going to happen,’ Rhona said, with total confidence.
The sound of laughing voices reached them from the path. It was Robert MacKenzie and Liam Harper, making their way towards them from the harbour. Anna was pleased to see Liam – when she’d left him the message earlier the invitation had been as casual as she could make it, and she hadn’t been sure he’d turn up. He looked up and raised a hand with a smile when he saw her watching.
Since that first evening, Liam had become a regular visitor to the Fishergirl’s Luck. In fact, in between the nights he was out with the boat, Anna wasn’t sure he’d spent a single night in his own lodgings. Not that she was complaining. It was, as he’d written in his note that first morning, fun.
When the two men reached the party, Liam surprised her by bending down and kissing her on the lips. It wasn’t that she minded public displays of affection in front of her friends, but somehow she’d imagined Liam might be reticent about pegging out a flag about their relationship, given how casual they’d both agreed it was.
Robert kissed her too, a fleeting touch on the cheek, his hand on her shoulder. ‘Thanks for the invite,’ he said. ‘The wee lad’s at a sleepover and it’s too nice an evening for housework.’
She laughed. ‘Too right. Did you two come together?’
‘I hopped in Old Rob’s ride,’ Liam said. ‘Seemed daft to bring both.’
‘I owed him,’ his captain added. ‘He’s been putting up with Robbie’s endless questions about the bloody dolphins every morning.’
‘Ach, I don’t mind,’ Liam said, as Anna poured them both a drink from the table. ‘He’s a cute kid. Smart, too. You’ve got a budding cetologist there, mate.’
‘Aye,’ said Robert MacKenzie, nodding his thanks to Anna as he took the glass she passed him. ‘I think you might be right. Although I guess we’ll see if he’s still getting up at 5 a.m. to pester the lads on the dock when he’s a teenager…’
The evening continued, a pleasant bubble of chat and laughter surrounding the Fishergirl’s Luck as the sun slowly sank below the horizon. Once, looking along the path towards the cliff, Anna saw a dark figure lurking in the gathering shadows. Douglas McKean. She glanced at Robert, remembering his comment about the old man’s problems. She should probably show willing and invite him to join them for a drink and a bite to eat. But Anna still hadn’t forgiven him for his vile rudeness at the harbour that day. Besides, the next time she looked, he had melted away.
‘This is great,’ Liam said, later, as he looked at the email on Anna’s iPad, which displayed the poster Cathy had created for the first lunch club. ‘It manages to be really elegant and perfectly legible at the same time.’
‘She does them all by hand, too,’ Anna told him, busy unwrapping the sample flatware that Rhona had brought over earlier. ‘I’m surrounded by talented people. Look at these, aren’t they beautiful?’ She held up one of the dishes she’d just unwrapped. The glaze on it was almost black, though a closer inspection revealed a gradient of dark to lighter green moving towards the centre. ‘These belong in a gallery, not on my little table.’
It was late and the rest of her guests had gone home, but Liam had stayed. It had been a subtle agreement and no one had batted an eyelid when Old Robbie had left without him. Anna had been relieved, and then wondered why. There wasn’t any reason to suggest any of ‘the Usual Suspects’ would be prudish about her choices. Still a hangover from the encounter with Douglas McKean, she supposed.
‘So a week Saturday’s the day, eh?’ Liam asked, getting up from what had become his customary seat on the floor and coming over. ‘I’m really sorry but I’m not going to be around.’
Anna put down the plate and reached up to give him a quick kiss. ‘Oh?’
He caught her around the waist before she could move away any further. ‘I’m off that weekend. But I’m booked onto a group dive up in Shetland, to a wreck called the SS Glenisla. I’ve been meaning to go up there ever since I got here, and well…’
‘You’re running out of time,’ Anna finished for him. ‘I’m glad you’ve got yourself booked on one, then.’
‘You’re not upset I won’t be here?’
‘Of course not. Why would I be?’
He grinned and pulled her back in for another kiss. Anna smi
led against his mouth, his stubble scratching against her chin.
‘Well,’ he murmured, backing her slowly across the room towards the stairs. ‘Since we’re both going to be busy for the next while… how about we make the most of me being here right now?’
‘Hmm,’ Anna hummed, between kisses. ‘Seems like a reasonable idea to me.’
* * *
‘Next thing I know, you’ll be moving to New Zealand,’ Cathy said with an elaborate moan as they talked on the phone the following day. ‘Maybe you’ll keep moving further and further away until you really do fall off the edge of the world.’
‘Nope,’ said Anna. ‘Not going to happen. That’s not even on the cards and honestly, I really wouldn’t want it to be. We’re having fun, that’s all. It’s an interlude.’
‘Fun,’ Cathy echoed, wistfully. ‘I’m not sure I remember what that’s like.’
‘Don’t say that,’ Anna said. ‘You and Steve are still happy, aren’t you?’
There was a pause. ‘Of course we are,’ Cathy said. ‘It’s just life, isn’t it? We probably need a bit of pepping up, that’s all. I envy you, Anna. You chucked it all in to start over and you’re really making a go of it. That’s a rare thing.’
Anna leaned back against the sofa. ‘I wouldn’t have done it if things had been different, you know that. I thought I was going to spend my life with Geoff. I thought we’d eventually have a family, settle down, all that stuff… Now here I am, knocking forty and on my own with no partner, no kids, no career and home is a glorified shoebox that I don’t even think I can live in full-time.’
The House Beneath the Cliffs Page 11