Fiona of Glenmorie

by Ruth Hay

  Their progress toward this moment had not been without problems and difficulties but with the successful pregnancy and birth of Michelle, all Zoe’s previous post-partum issues had dissolved.

  Motherhood suited her. She grew more beautiful every day, in his estimation. The tense lines of her face and body had softened and she now had the confidence of a truly fulfilled woman to add to her unbeatable business acumen.

  She frequently reached out to others with finances and help, mostly anonymously. This development began after she was able to help Portia, the granddaughter of Wesley’s revered professor, Aylward Beck. A whole new division of Excelsior had been created to assist women in need of mental health support. The new division was named, Portal, in Portia’s honour.

  “Darling, I really don’t know what Anna and Alina would like to do, although I will ask at the office and see what suggestions they can contribute. I’ll make a list for Anna’s approval. It’s a great idea. They have been wonderful to have around for these past weeks. Let’s send them off with a few memorable hours.”

  Zoe smiled. Wesley was the best husband and father in the world. She never had to worry about his support. He was always there to lend a hand when she had an idea or a project.

  She thought ahead to the expeditions with the two children and the two older women. They would form a real family group together, something she had been lacking. She made a mental note to be sure to get photographs to remind Zach and Michelle of this special time in their lives. She knew Anna and Alina would head north to Anna’s home in Scotland and Alina would eventually return to Canada to join her husband. There was no guarantee the family feeling they had all shared would be duplicated in the future. Zoe was very conscious that time was running out for her father, Michael, and her Aunt Isobel, who shared a cottage home in Scotland. That couple were her only relatives and both had been separated from her for most of their lives.

  There was no time to be lost. Good memories must be made and preserved, for the children’s sake.

  She resolved to make the trip north before too long with the youngsters to see her father and aunt, hopefully while Anna was still in Oban.

  * * *

  When Alina emerged from her rest, refreshed and joyful, she and Anna repaired to the snug so that Alina could talk to Philip by phone and relay the good news.

  Anna dialed the number and waited until she heard her older brother’s voice answering.

  “Hi there, Philip! Alina’s here to talk to you. Don’t worry. It’s good news at last.”

  She relinquished the phone and left the snug so Alina could have privacy to talk to her husband.

  He was far away in Egypt supervising another of the exciting building projects that drew him back to work occasionally. Anna knew how worried he was about his wife’s declining eyesight. Every time she returned to Canada from Scotland she could tell how much worse Alina’s condition was. Without Philip by her side, Alina would be reduced to an invalid state, tied to the house and fearful of accidents taking away the remaining tiny portion of her independence.

  Anna could hardly wait to see the restored and invigorated Alina she knew would emerge after this operation and she knew Philip was equally anxious.

  Anna went out to the kitchen and checked with Wesley about the time the food was due to arrive. Zoe and Wesley were drinking cocktails and looking their shining best for the occasion, so Anna left them to their drinks and decided to climb the stairs to the top of the tower from where she had a grand view over the rooftops of London.

  She turned in what she believed to be a northerly direction and spoke from her heart into the dark sky.

  I will be coming home soon. Home, to see the spring flowers in the garden and to climb Helen’s Hill. Slowly, on a good day, of course, but worth the effort to see that view once again.

  It is harder to leave every time. God Willing, this will not be the last time, but it will be one of the last, I am sure.

  We’ll see! As long as I am healthy, I have choices. I choose to spend this summer with my darling Fiona and Jeanette and dear Bev and Ashley and all the children, with Alina by my side.

  She could not ask for more.

  As she looked in the opposite direction and saw the delivery van arriving with their food, she had one last thought before descending the stairs. She must invite Zoe and Wesley to come to Oban with the children this summer.

  Chapter Nine

  “Can we go off exploring, Mum?”

  Fiona checked the sky and saw large clear blue sections with white clouds drifting by on high. She was sitting outside writing down information for Marie. Neil was a good boy but, like all children, he had his preferences regarding food and sleep habits.

  Fiona was adamant that none of her brood should be given free access to screens without sensible boundaries restricting their use. It disturbed her to see young mothers in the streets of Oban walking around gazing at phones while their youngsters in strollers were at a prime age to interact with adults and ask questions.

  She also hated the common habit of placing a child down in front of a Disney-style, cartoon entertainment that had little educational value. She knew Fergus and Shona were adept at justifying the need for this constant social screen contact. That was why she must set the rules down clearly at the start. Undoubtedly, there would be occasions when Marie would encounter the two older children.

  Fiona was happy to hear the request for outdoor fun from Fergus and Shona. She made sure Fergus carried a recently-charged phone in his backpack.

  “Call at once if you get into any difficulties. I will expect you two back for supper at six at the latest.

  Shona, if you get your clothes wet or muddy leave enough time to change before we eat………and remember to take care of each other!”

  A backward wave of a hand was all the acknowledgement Fiona received. They were off through the gardens with backpacks swinging and Shona’s ponytail bobbing. She heard their voices becoming fainter and fainter until they vanished into the forest.

  Gordon had supplied Fergus with a map of the Glenmorie estate for his tenth birthday and his mother knew it was one of the boy’s proudest possessions. He used it to navigate the various roads and pathways throughout the estate and, as it was an historical map, it was like a treasure trove of the hidden and unusual spots the public were not likely to find.

  Fergus had annotated this map with his neat, tiny printing. He often added sketches in the margins and would return to consult the castle library for information about a strange tree or an insect he had never before encountered.

  Shona had a similar map with a more up-to-date GPS orientation. Taken together these maps would provide all the information the children needed to venture afar and find their way back home again.

  Fiona went back to her notes, happy her children had healthy alternatives to the endless gossip on social media that seemed to fascinate their peers.

  “Do you have the map?”

  “Of course!”

  “Do you have yours, Shona?

  “Of course! Did you tell anyone what we found?”

  “Don’t be stupid, Shona! We agreed it was our secret, right?”

  “Right! I was just checking. Did you bring the trowel from the garden shed?”

  “Yes! And the paint brushes and the note book and anything else we’ll need. Now, will you shut up and walk faster. We don’t have all day you know.”

  Shona did as her brother suggested. He had long legs made for covering the ground fast and she needed her concentration to avoid dips in the ground or fallen branches. Fergus often seemed to be a dreamy kind of boy to his sister, but when he had an object in mind, he could show tremendous focus. This was one of those times.

  The story he had told her went like this.

  He was out alone exploring a few weeks before. There was a strange mark on the map he wanted to investigate. His father said it was the remains of an old shepherd’s bothy from long ago and when he saw his son’s eyes ligh
t up, he cautioned him not to be too excited as a local archaeologist had looked over the site years previously and found nothing of note there.

  “There’s a record of his visit in the Oban Library, filed under ancient ruins, I believe.”

  Fergus accepted this explanation, but the mark on the map called to him until he had to see the site for himself. It was in an inaccessible location high up on an exposed hilltop but it drew Fergus like a magnet draws iron filings. He spent two hours there on his first visit just turning over stones and working out the original dimensions of the hut. Some of the stones from the walls had tumbled down the slope, leaving the interior exposed to rain and wind. The original roof of heather stems and brush had long blown away as dust.

  He crouched down inside, with his back against the tallest remaining wall and began to sketch. It was not large even for a bothy. Such buildings were usually thrown up quickly, using local stones and stout branches from trees for a door. No windows were required, as it was only a temporary shelter from bad weather. He surmised this particular bothy had been dug into the hillside giving it a slanted look. Fergus thought it was a smart idea to save time. The earth wall would keep out the wind that came roaring over the top of the hill. The exposed position of the bothy was also partially protected on the left side by a large tangle of trees and bushes slightly further up the hill.

  The best-preserved part of the structure appeared to be the floor on which he sat. He moved his foot to one side to look more closely at these stones now covered in a thick layer of moss.

  There was nothing here of interest. The old shepherds and their flocks were long gone.

  He thought of Iona with its carved stone crosses. He thought of Mull where an early abbey had been uncovered a few years ago. There was a lot of history buried in Scotland. Hardy folks had existed here for thousands of years and left their marks.

  Mrs. Cameron, the Year Four teacher, had once told the class a spooky story about an anchorite’s cell. She said a woman was bricked up inside the tiny space against a cave wall to spend her life in prayer for others. Small amounts of food and drink were passed through a slot in the wall to the woman.

  One of the girls in the class asked in a whisper, what would happen if the person forgot to bring food.

  Mrs. Cameron did not answer. She just stared at the girl until she put her head down on her hands and cried.

  Fergus was not the only child who had nightmares after this incident. He wondered why he had thought about it here, in this very different place.

  In frustration, he kicked at the nearest stone and dislodged it from its companions on the floor. It rolled over and the underside was exposed to the air for the first time.

  In a split second all Fergus’ frustration disappeared. This was no ordinary stone from the nearby hilltop.

  It was what the experts called ‘a dressed stone’. It meant the stone had been ‘squared off’ by a man with some kind of tools, for some special purpose. That man was not likely to have been a shepherd.

  Fergus stood up and checked his phone. He was too far from home for good reception but the time still showed on the main panel. He must leave right now and run all the way home or he might not be allowed the freedom he needed. He resolved, there and then, to return and investigate further.

  * * *

  When her brother told her this story, late one night after their parents were in bed, Shona immediately begged to be included in the adventure.

  “What do you think you found, Fergus?”

  “I don’t know. That’s the problem. I need more time.”

  “It could be nothing!” In Shona’s experience, big brothers should not be allowed to get swelled heads.

  She liked to play the role of the voice of reason but as long as she was included in his plans she would play along with whatever Fergus wanted.

  “There’s only one way to find out. Next Saturday?”

  “If the weather’s good?”

  “Right! Say nothing.”

  “OK. Pinkie swear?”

  They linked their smallest fingers and the deed was sealed.

  Shona went back to her bed thinking it was not going to be this much fun when Fergus went as a weekly boarder to the Art School. She decided, then and there, to enjoy what might be one of their last big adventures together.

  The hike to the hilltop was accomplished at top speed. Fergus was sure of the way and he barged through old undergrowth and whippy new tendrils of spring branches with total abandon. Shona quickly learned to place her hands in front of her face for protection but she had little breath to spare to protest. Fergus was taking every shortcut he knew to allow more time for investigations.

  When the remains of the bothy finally came into sight, Shona was disappointed. She wondered how her brother had thought this was so interesting. As far as she could see, it was merely a heap of old stones on the brow of a hill.

  Nothing remarkable there. The estate was criss-crossed with drystone walls built by old inhabitants to keep their animals under control. She trudged up behind Fergus and planned to rest while he rummaged in the ruins. If they rushed home, she would still have time to watch that television series all the girls at school were talking about.

  Fergus got to work at once. He studied the first stone he had uncovered and soon moved on to its partner. Shona had the job of scraping off the thick green moss with the trowel. She watched while her brother arranged the stones from the floor as much like a jigsaw puzzle as anything. She could see nothing special until he tugged on her jacket and said, “Look! See this wee mark here, and here…… and over here? If you put them all together it could be a sign.”

  Shona looked, but she could see nothing other than scratches.

  “What do you think it means, Fergus?”

  He wiped off his fingers on his thick wool jumper and sat back on his heels.

  “I think it means these stones didna come from this spot. I think a shepherd found them somewhere and brought them here to make a flat surface.”

  “But there’s nothing around here but trees and bushes and heather. Surely this shepherd was not going up and down the hill carrying an armful of stones from somewhere else?”

  “My thinking exactly! We need to look nearby for more clues. Come on!”

  He was off like a goat jumping over the debris and heading to the highest point around. In moments, he saw a cairn hidden among the trees and pounced on it.

  Shona came up behind him and found him dismantling the cairn and examining the stones.

  “Wait Fergus! I thought cairns were to be left alone. Climbers make them to show they have reached a certain spot as a sign to the next person who comes along.”

  “Ach! I’ll put them back again. I just want to see if the bothy stones came from this area.”

  Shona moved back a bit. She did not want to be in the way if the cairn collapsed. Some of those stones were sharp edged and broken.

  “There you are! I was right! The stones lower down are like the bothy floor and there’s a pattern emerging. He whipped out his notebook and pen and began to copy whatever it was he saw scratched on some of the surfaces.

  Shona lost interest. When her brother got started with drawings, he lost all contact with the normal world.

  She wandered off among the trees and soon found it difficult to walk. The ground was littered with acorns. There were hundreds and hundreds of the shiny brown nuts. The older ones had holes in them from squirrels or insects and no matter how deep her feet sank, there were more and more layers.

  She looked up. Acorns meant oak trees. It was hard to tell with all the saplings that had rooted. The branches above her head were so closely entangled that the light from the sky was gone in the deep shade. She began to count the thickest trunks of the oldest oaks and found herself walking around a large outer circle.

  “………………..nine, ten, eleven, twelve.”

  There were twelve huge oak trees forming a circle. It was an ancient place. Oaks were sacr
ed. The mistletoe plant that grew above the ground in the branches was sacred to the Druids.

  The hair on the back of her neck stood up. What kind of place was this, once upon a time?

  What did the people who planted these oaks want to do here?

  She had seen programs on television about ancient sites like Stonehenge. There were loads of stone circles in Scotland and rumours of human sacrifice attached to many of them.

  Who planted these old oaks?

  Why?

  Was there blood deep in the earth inside this circle?

  Who were the climbers drawn here to start a cairn?

  Her mind was full of questions for which she had no answers.

  Suddenly the chill of the dark space made her shiver and she could not wait to get away from it.

  Stumbling and tripping and murmuring to herself, she realized she did not know the direction from which she had entered the circle. How far had she walked when she counted? Where was the first tree?

  She stopped and looked around again. Everything looked different in the shadows and a wind had come up. The branches moved and creaked far above her head as if the trees were talking to each other.

  “Fergus! Where are you? Fergus! Help me!”

  Her eyes were shut tight now but she heard the noise of her brother crashing through the trees and she kept yelling to make sure he found her.

  When she felt his hand on her shoulder, she opened her eyes again and laughed weakly. Fergus had a crown of branches resting on his dark hair and leaves scattered all over his jumper.

  “What’s wrong, Shona? Are you hurt? Did something happen?”

  She could not answer him; the relief was so great. She took his hand and motioned to the break in the undergrowth that showed where he had entered.

  “Go out!”

  Fergus for once did not stop to question his sister. His mother’s last words about taking care of each other rang in his ears. He knew only that something had happened and Shona needed to get out.