Chapter Sixteen
Saturday Evening
‘We’re lost aren’t we?’
‘Might be.’
‘Lost even though you have a Sat Nav?’
‘An old, cheap one with only four digits for the postcode.’
‘So?’
‘Well four digits in Manchester gets you within half a street, which is usually near enough. Here four digits out here covers about 30 square miles!’
‘Ah.’
“Out here” was the west coast of Scotland. Somewhere near Oban. Somewhere near the Oban Diver’s camp site.
Hopefully.
‘So what now?’
The SatNav had brought them south of Oban, off the main road, through a small village and a long way along a progressively narrower single track road that, according to Dan’s road atlas, ended in a tiny village set on a peninsular.
They were still a good five miles short of there. The SatNav had confidently announced that they were approaching and then was at their destination. In fact they were at an entrance to a track that the road atlas showed led to an isolated loch.
‘So, back to Oban and start again?’
‘Back to Oban and start again,’ agreed Dan.
The light was fading as Dan finally abandoned technology and followed his instincts. One lucky guess in the centre of town as they passed the busy harbour that was dominated by the Caledonian MacBrayne ferry terminal and there, amazingly, was a signpost to the campsite.
The road took them south out of the town via a rather ugly industrial estate. Suddenly the town was left behind them and the scenery opened up. They were on another narrow hilly road, complete with passing places. Less than a mile out of town and they could have been 50 miles away from civilisation, the road having swung around the side of a hill so that the town itself was invisible. A further mile and they came to a fork in the road; the right was signed to the diving school, the left to the camp site.
The site itself was small but neat, the site reception being a little chalet sitting next to a log timber toilet block. A stream bisected the site; on either side of the stream were hard standings for caravans and motor homes with water and power hook ups. Tents of various sizes, shapes and colours were on the broad grassy borders by the entrance with some more on a ridge that the site road looped up to.
Dan left the car and went to book in.
‘Well lad, tha can go up t’ridge or else there’s a nice area by entrance,’ said the jovial bearded man on reception who Dan thought could have a winter career in grottos, ‘it’s up t’you. We aint busy.’
‘Thanks, I’ll have a drive round and have a look,’ said Dan, ‘You’re not local are you?’
‘Nay lad, Yorkshire born and bred. Anyway, hope you have a good night.’
‘Cheers, thanks.’
Dan came out of the chalet and had a look around. There were quite a few other tents by the entrance; he would prefer to be away from other people if possible. The ridge would probably be the better bet then. In any case, there should be a great view down across the water, ideal for sunsets.
He got back in the car and smiled at his companion.
‘Onwards and upwards,’ he said, pointing at the ridge, ‘Let’s try up there.’
The lane up was not tarmacked and was steep and the Skoda’s wheels scrabbled for grip like a puppy scrambling up a sand dune but it was worth it when they reached the top. There was a flat area at the top and the view down the sea loch was, indeed, stunning. There was only one other tent there, pitched on one side of the parking area. Dan went to the opposite side.
The sun was setting, bathing the hills in gold. The air was startlingly clear; light grey, wispy clouds were fringed with red and orange as the sky turned eggshell shades.
‘I should have been ready with my camera,’ said Dan, ‘It’s important to take advantage when you can on the west coast. It can easily rain for a week.’
‘Well it was worth the drive already just to see that. I’m glad you persuaded me to come.’
He smiled. ‘My pleasure, Tess.’
The negotiations had been easier than he expected.
He had just apologised really, said sorry for being so nasty, excused himself with the stress he had been under. Then he’d told her that he didn’t want to be alone, that he would appreciate her company. She had hesitated at first but then he had won her over by saying: ‘It’s only a week. Just one week as friends and then I’ll help you to find out why you are back – whatever the consequences. Please Tess, I really don’t want to be alone at the moment.’
She had stared at him intently for a full thirty seconds before she nodded.
‘Ok. I don’t want to be alone either – and I’d be worrying about you.’
The reasons for the concern were left to lie by unspoken mutual consent.
Dan’s tent was small – a two man dome – and was put up and had the gear inside within a few minutes. Dan held the entrance open.
‘Your palace awaits, my lady,’ he said.
‘Shh,’ whispered Tess, looking over to her left where the occupants of the other tent sat on camp chairs, bundled up against the chill with coats and woolly hats, a lit barbecue in front of them. ‘They’ll think you’re talking to yourself.’
‘I don’t care.’
‘I do. I don’t want to be not seen with a mad person,’ she said, getting down to her knees and crawling the tent.
Dan grinned and followed her inside.
The tent had a domed sleeping area with an extension at the front. Dan had brought two sleeping mats and bags, even though Tess had laughed at him for it. She now lay on one, facing towards the extension and watched while Dan filled and lit his Trangia and put some water onto boil.
‘You really do have a death wish don’t you?’ she said.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Lighting that inside the tent. My old scout leader would have kittens if he saw anyone do that.’
‘Mine too but at this time of year I rather like the extra heating in the tent.’
‘Well I’m not cold,’ she said with a cheeky but sweet smile.
‘Ha Ha, very funny,’ he said, ‘Anyway I like living dangerously.’
‘I’d noticed. And speaking of living dangerously have you called Jenny yet?’
‘Call her?’ Dan looked up in surprise, ‘But she said she never wanted to hear from me again.’
‘And are you surprised after what you did to her? And surely you know not to take women literally?’ She paused, a thoughtful look on her face, ‘Well not all the time anyway.’
‘How are we supposed to know when?’
‘It’s in the rulebook.’
‘You will print me out a copy sometime won’t you?’
‘I’ll think about it.’
‘I’ll give you a copy of the guy one.’
‘Women don’t need the guy one. You’re pretty simple creatures.’
‘I didn’t think I was all that predictable.’
Tess pulled a face. ‘Well I wouldn’t be so sure about that one. Generally when you give a man a choice he will always take the dumb option.’
‘Well…I chose to bring you with me.’
‘Yes, I rest my case, m’lud – instead of the younger, hotter, more LIVING, blonde. Duh!’
Dan took shelter behind his task of making a hot drink for himself.
‘Please Dan. Call her. Or text her at least. She’ll be hoping you will.’
Dan looked doubtful.
‘Will she?’
‘Trust me on this; yes.’
‘Ok, I’ll do it later.’
‘Dan! Do it now!’
‘The signal’s bad.’
‘Stop making excuses and just do it. Or I’ll talk at you all night until you give in.’
‘I might like that.’
‘Yes, come to think of it, you might. You’re weird enough. Anyway, don’t argue, just do it.’
Dan sighed heavily.
‘Ok, Ok, I’ll do it,’ he said, retrieving his phone, ‘Anything for a quiet life. Can’t you be like any normal ghost and clank chains or something instead?’
‘When you buy me a castle to haunt instead of a tent,’ she said, ‘Oh and be nice to her. She’ll be hurting.’
‘What should I say.’
‘Just be you, Dan.’
He stared at the phone, his fingers hovering over the keys.
‘Is that enough?’ he said.
‘Mmm. So what’s the plan for tomorrow?’
Dan had started to text but stopped and looked up again.
‘Did you just change the subject?’
‘Nooo, not me!’ she grinned. ‘I was just asking, that’s all.’
The light was fading and Dan lit the lantern and hung it in the front extension.
‘Well, I want to get up early to catch the dawn. There’s a castle about 20 miles north of Oban that sits on a sea loch. It will look gorgeous if it’s a still, sunny morning, with mist on the water. And we might catch the harbour too in some good light if we’re quick.’
Tess winced. ‘Dawn? Ouch.’
‘You’re going to be sleepy?’
‘Not me, it was you I was worried about! I’ve seen what you’re like in a morning before you’ve had your coffee. How are you going to manage without your espresso?’
Dan rummaged through the camping box and produced a miniature espresso pot.
‘Camping special. One of the best presents I’ve ever been bought.’
Tess shook her head sadly.
‘We need to talk about your addiction,’ she said.
Dan moved the whisky bottle from the box into the dome part of the tent.
‘Correction, addictions,’ she said, frowning.
‘I may well be addicted to you too,’ he said, leaning unexpectedly over and brushing his lips against her forehead.
‘Hey you!’ she said, looking surprised, ‘You said just friends on this trip!’
‘Did I?’
‘Stop looking so innocent, you know you did!’
‘But you’re so stubborn what difference would it make if I do misbehave?’
She gave a little shrug.
‘Who knows?’ she said, quietly.
Sunday morning – dawn
It was like a dream.
The clouds were pouring off the mountains and flowing into the valleys and over the sea loch, yet the sky behind was clear and blue. It was if the glaciers had returned to claim their kingdom, but yet these where ephemeral, ghosts of the ice age returning to their former domains. They flowed around, over or through any man-made object as if it were beneath them to deign to acknowledge their existence. Bridges were engulfed and became only vague outlines, suggestions of a structure. The boats that rode at anchor in the channels of the estuary faded and hardened, ebbed and flowed with the grey tide, only the clank-clank of rope and wire against wood and metal betraying their reality.
‘It’s unbelievable,’ murmured Tess, ‘I didn’t think anything could really look like this.’
Dan had his camera set up on a tripod and was triggering the shutter with a remote cable to avoid shutter shake, swivelling the body around to take different views.
‘I did tell you there was no light in the world like you get up here. Dawns can be special anywhere but here, with the quality of the light you get scenes like this. It’s a photographer’s dream.’
‘I thought all of this was done in Photoshop,’ she said.
‘Oh a lot of it is. People get lazy. I play with my images a little but I try to leave my photo’s as original as possible.’
‘I love your photos.’
‘Ah, they aren’t that great.’
‘I wish you’d stop saying that! You are always doing yourself down. They are that good. You really should think about doing it professionally.’
‘I couldn’t be a professional,’ he said, checking the view through the viewfinder, ‘could I?’
‘Yes you could! You just need to believe in yourself.’ Tess linked her arm briefly through Dan’s, giving him an encouraging squeeze. He was getting more used to how she felt, though the contact never lasted as long as he would like.
She leant down to look through the viewfinder.
‘Why are you using the tripod?’ she asked.
‘It may look bright to your eye but the light is actually very low. I could get a bit of camera shake if I shot hand held. The image wouldn’t be that crisp. It’s why I have to use the remote as well. Hopefully these will come out crystal clear and pin sharp.’
‘I used to just snap away. No wonder my pictures were never that great!’
‘I would have thought you were too calm and methodical to just snap,’ he grinned.
‘Don’t be mean!’ she said and gave him a push. To Dan’s shock this didn’t feel cool and tenuous at all but was a hard thump in the chest. He was so surprised that he lost his balance and fell over on his backside onto the muddy bank of the loch.
‘Oops!’ she said, ‘Sorry!’
She was breathing heavily.
‘Wow!’ said Dan, still sat in the mud, ‘where did that come from? I didn’t know you could do that!’
‘I can’t all the time but sometimes…well you saw!’
He scrambled to his feet, rubbing the mud off his hands as best as he could. He saw that Tess hadn’t moved and was still breathing heavily. She looked suddenly exhausted and pale. He still hadn’t got used to her breath fogging like his did in the chill morning air.
‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘Yes…give me…a moment…it really…takes it out of me,’ she gasped, ‘No!’
Dan had stepped towards her, arms outstretched.
‘Don’t touch me! Please,’ she said.
Dan stopped and let his arms fall to his sides.
‘Sorry,’ she said, ‘I didn’t mean to…shout. I just don’t …want to vanish…here. I mean…it’s pretty…but…’
‘You’d prefer to haunt me!’
Tess looked quite serious.
‘Do I…do that?’
‘What, haunt me?’ Dan walked down to the water’s edge to rinse the rest of the mud off his hands. ‘Yes, I guess you do. From the moment I met you I’ve not been able to stop thinking about you.’
He wiped his hands on his sweatshirt, drying them as best he could before unclipping the camera from the tripod and putting it in the camera case.
‘You are always in my thoughts. That was the problem when I was with Jenny. Whether it is right or wrong that you are there makes no difference, that fact is you are. So with Jenny, she could never…’ He stopped and shook his head. ‘Anyway, forget it, it doesn’t matter. Are you up to going back to the car and moving on?’ He picked the tripod up.
She stood staring out over the water, though whether she was actually seeing the view Dan was not certain.
‘Yes,’ she said at last, ‘I’m ready.’
Sunday evening
The rest of the day was split between the campsite and photographic forays, Dan cooking a late breakfast back at the camp straight after visiting the harbour whilst Tess rested.
The last trip of the day was to the end of the road which the SatNav had taken them down the previous evening. It ended in a village that looked out over a rocky sound to an island. A small boat acted as a ferry that ran backwards and forwards between the jetties taking divers, sightseers and villagers alike across and back. Beyond the village was a surprisingly large car park and, beyond that, set beneath rocky cliffs was a boulder strewn platform that led around to another sea loch inlet.
Dan and Tess walked up the slippery rocks to sit and look out over the headland, watching the sun set over the water.
‘Is everywhere around here beautiful?’ she said.
‘No. Some of it is even more stunning.’
‘I can see why you love it up here.’
‘Catch this place when it’s wet and miserable and you might not feel the same! I don’t care though, whatever the weather. I just love it.’
They sat in silence for a few minutes watching nature’s free art show develop and change, the colour palettes used would make an artist jealous.
‘I really want to hold you,’ he said.
She gave a wistful smile.
‘I would really like to be held by you,’ she whispered back.
‘Can I then?’
‘No. It wouldn’t feel nice for one thing and you’d look really, really stupid if anyone saw you with your arm sticking out in mid air.’
‘I don’t care either way,’ he said, ‘I still want to.’
She shook her head slowly.
‘You’re crazy, really crazy, you know that?’ she said.
‘Oh yes. I know that.’
‘Hmmm.’
‘So may I?’
‘Go on then, if you must,’ she said grudgingly.
Dan carefully put his arm around her.
‘How do I feel?’ she asked.
‘It’s hard to describe. A little cool. Sort of there but sort of not, if you know what I mean. But still nice.’
Tess leant her head against his shoulder.
‘I still think you’re mad,’ she said.
‘How do I feel to you?’ he asked.
‘Hot,’ she said instantly, ‘and I meant temperature wise and not anything else, before you get all big headed!’
‘Ha! Don’t worry I wasn’t. But hot, really? So you feel me?’
‘Yes I feel. It’s so hot it almost burns. It’s…quite hard to bear actually.’
‘You want me to let go of you?’
‘No! Well not just yet anyway.’
She snuggled even closer.
‘You are the only thing I can feel actually,’ she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
Dan puzzled over this but said nothing, not wanting the moment to end, scared of breaking the spell.
‘OK,’ she said at last pushing him away, ‘that’s enough.’
She stood up and stepped away from him.
‘You OK?’ he asked.
‘Sure, I’m fine.’
‘That wasn’t too convincing. What’s up?’
She looked at him, stony faced.
‘I said you were sneaky,’ she said, ‘This isn’t fair. You’re making this too nice. This is crazy. We shouldn’t be doing this.’
Dan was in no mood to give ground. ‘Who’s to say what we should or shouldn’t be doing? Who’s to say what’s wrong and what’s right?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said, turning away. ‘Somebody must know though. Somebody just has to.’
Monday morning
Early the next morning, Dan drove them down to the ferry terminal and parked the car. His original plan had been to pack up and take the car across to Mull and find a site there but the weather forecast was awful. They had about a 24 hour window before heavy rain set in. Tess and Dan had talked it over and settled for a day trip during which they would take a boat tour over to Staffa and Iona.
They boarded just a few minutes before the sailing time, heading straight up to the promenade deck at the rear of the passenger cabin. Dan had the full bad weather gear on; waterproof, fleece and scarf. Even in mid-April, 7 am was still quite chill.
‘I still worry about you, dressed like that,’ he whispered. Tess was still in the same jeans and t-shirt she had been wearing when he had first met her.
‘Shush,’ she said, ‘They think you’re talking to yourself.’
She nodded towards two women carrying huge rucksacks emblazoned with Canadian flags who were leaning on the ships rail nearby. Although they were looking at the harbour they kept giving Dan worried glances. He smiled back at them.
‘Oh yes that really helps!’ she said, ‘now you are talking to yourself and grinning inanely. Look, just stop talking to me whilst there are people around will you?’
Just as she finished speaking the ship’s horn blew to announce their departure. The hawsers were cast off and the ship shuddered as the thrusters pushed the ferry away from the dockside. The acrid yet sweet smell of diesel smoke rolled across the deck and caught at the back of Dan’s throat as the Ferry backed out into the harbour. The engine note rose to a deep throb as the boat nosed forward and swung away to the right, away from the town and its harbour.
The water was glassy, a perfect calm, the mist laying on the water and obscuring the base of the surrounding uplands, the tops out in the clear to welcome the new day. The ferry slowly built up speed, a noisy blue and white intruder amidst nature’s perfect tableaux.
Tess pressed herself close to Dan and rested her head on his shoulder, just as she had done the previous day. He couldn’t help but notice the difference this time, a subtle but important one; she had done it this time without his asking. He gently leant over and kissed her on the head, her hair almost indistinguishable from the mist that surrounded them.
Monday afternoon
Some seven hours later they were sat on another rock on another beach, looking over yet another narrow sound of water. Despite the similarities, the differences were striking. Yesterday, the village had sat on a stark, dark, brooding rocky headland, the buildings dwarfed by the stone that loomed above them. Here the dark rocks were smaller and more scattered and separated from each other by brilliant white sandy beachlets that shelved gently into a shallow azure sea. Above them, the sky was a deep blue, streaked with streams of high, white clouds, harbingers of the storms to come. Inland, dazzling squat and sturdy white-walled cottages under slate roofs were set against the lush greens of the grass and the browns and purples of the hills. They could have been in a different country.
‘This place can’t be real. It’s just picture perfect,’ said Tess in awe, ‘I thought Staffa was amazing but Iona is something else. Have you been here before?’
‘No, just read about it and seen pictures. It’s even more gorgeous in the flesh though.’
‘The cradle of Christianity in Scotland,’ she said, ‘What a place to pray and meditate.’
‘And it’s the burial place of the early Scottish Kings,’ said Dan.
‘You read the guide book too huh?’ giggled Tess.
‘Yup!’
‘Thought so. Now shush again. Those two Canadian women are coming onto the beach and don’t you dare put your arm around me again! They’ll have you committed if you do your one winged seagull impression again whilst flirting with your imaginary friend!’
‘Hi there!’ said Dan, waving to the two women who were walking along the path that skirted the beach. They nodded politely and waved back but their pace notably quickened until they were past.
‘Oh,’ said Dan under his breath, ‘be like that.’
‘Dan, don’t be surprised that they're like that. You screamed at one of them on the boat to Staffa,’
‘She was going to sit on you,’ mumbled Dan, ‘And I’m sure I didn’t scream.’
‘You yelled so hard she almost leapt off the boat!’
‘I didn’t.’
‘You did!’
He scrambled to his feet and held his hand out.
‘Let’s stop arguing and go and have a look at the Abbey.’
‘Sure,’ she said accepting it and letting Dan pull her to her feet. Just as she did another couple who had been on the boat passed by on the path and also gave Dan a very odd look.
‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll never see them again,’ Tess murmured as they walked off the beach. They joined the main road through the village and followed the signs to the Abbey. There was a short queue at a kiosk to pay the entrance fee and Dan waited his turn.
‘Two adults please,’ he said.
The girl at the kiosk stared at him. He realised he was the last in the queue and that there was no one else in sight.
‘You muppet!’ whispered Tess fiercely.
‘Oh! Sorry! I mean one adult,’ he said quickly, ‘I thought I was with somebody.’
He handed over the money.
‘Oh yeah, that sounds better!’ Tess said.
The girl gave him his change, his ticket, a guide to the Abbey and a look of pity. 'There’s a tour starting in ten minutes if you’re interested. You just need to wait by the biggest of the crosses,' she said.
‘Oh right, yes thanks.’
Two large carved Celtic crosses stood near the main door to the Abbey. The carvings were beautifully intricate, the stone itself a perfect grey-green bridge against the contrasting blues of sky and sea.
Dan took a number of pictures of the crosses and the outside of the Abbey. He couldn’t resist taking some with Tess in the shot; she was stood next to the larger cross, tracing the swirls of the carving with her fingers. He lowered the camera and checked the images on the screen that he had just taken. There was no sign of Tess on them. He sighed and walked over to her, just as a neatly dressed grey-haired woman came out of the Abbey’s front door. She was in the green tweed skirt, green lamb’s wool jumper and black jacket which was the uniform of the staff.
‘Excuse me, are you the guide?’ asked one of the Canadian women who had just arrived.
‘Oh no dear, that’s wee Fiona today, she should be out in a moment.’
‘Ah thank you.’
‘That’s my pleasure my dear, I hope you enjoy the tour,’ said the woman with a smile.
The woman smiled at Dan and walked past them up the path to the kiosk where Dan had paid. They saw her exchange a few words with the girl, obviously passing on some kind of message. It was obviously a short one because she immediately turned and headed back towards the Abbey.
‘She’s from the Iona community,’ whispered Dan to Tess, ‘They are the people who live and work in the Abbey.’
‘It must be such a fabulous place to live,’ said Tess as the women passed by them, ‘It’s so peaceful and beautiful.’
‘Oh it is that my dear,’ said the woman, who was still smiling, ‘My you’re a brave girl! Aren’t you cold dressed like that?’