Auld Acquaintance

by Ruth Hay

  Anna managed a weak smile as she imagined the surprise of her fellow bus travellers if they knew where she was going, and why she was taking this journey.

  Looking around she saw that the few passengers were reading or sleeping. The driver’s radio was turned down so only a murmur of music could be heard over the hum of the engine. No distractions there, then.

  Longing for the oblivion of sleep, Anna surmised that she might achieve that state if her mind was more settled about the arrangements she had made. This thought forced her to check inside her purse in a panic. No, the passport and airline ticket were secured in a wallet with the international money orders and a reservation for one night in a Glasgow hotel. The train ticket for Oban and the directions to George McLennan’s office were zipped inside a compartment for the next stage of the journey.

  Her exploring fingers encountered a smooth, metal surface. This was the parting gift from her buddies; a cell phone that would allow her to keep in touch with the Samba group from Scotland.

  Bev’s son James had cheerfully provided several lessons for Anna on how to access the address book he had loaded with all the relevant numbers, but when his flying fingers attempted to demonstrate texting features, Anna had called a halt. Phoning transatlantic with a phone charger to remember, was enough for now. James had added his cell phone numbers to the address book and insisted on supplying technical backup when required. He was more than happy to help, in exchange for the privilege of driving Anna’s car while she was away, thereby making his daily commute to college much easier.

  James had pre-set the cell phone for connection to United Kingdom satellite service so it lay dormant in her hand until Anna could activate it in Scotland.

  “Scotland,” Anna whispered, as if trying the word out would make the entire enterprise seem more real. There’s a long way to go yet, she told herself.

  Flying across Ontario, Quebec and the Maritime Provinces then out over the Atlantic Ocean in the darkness to arrive at Glasgow Airport by 9:00am. Such a short night in which to travel so far, she marvelled.

  It was hard to grasp the distance, both literal and metaphorical, from the New World to the Old World.

  Although Alina and Anna had often spent vacations together, they usually went south to Florida, Mexico, Cuba, or the Caribbean, favouring flights from London airport whenever possible, rather than departing from Toronto and stealing valuable holiday time. This would be Anna’s first flight from Pearson’s new International Terminal 3.

  She wished the bus would speed along and get there. Then she wished it would slow down and let her get used to the idea of all the changes she would soon encounter, but

  Anna also knew she was caught in the inexorable grasp of events she, herself, had decided to put in motion and there was nothing to do now but wait.

  In the hope that George’s last letter would distract her from these conflicting thoughts, Anna scrabbled in her purse again. There was just enough daylight left to read the typed pages.

  ..............so you can see it was a piece of great luck that I was able to find the record of the arrival of Aileen Anne Knox at the Quarrier’s Homes. The entry in the year book stated that the child’s mother had brought her to Bridge of Weir for fear that she might not be able to continue to care for her. It was the mother’s intention to return for her only daughter as soon as her circumstances were improved, but Quarrier’s lost touch with Aileen Knox after two years and the child was adopted by the time her mother’s finances were secure.

  The adoption records were sealed by law in those days, to protect the new parents and we can only imagine the anguish your grandmother must have suffered at the loss of her child.

  Anna put the letter down and gazed unseeingly out of the window. No matter how many times she read this latter part, she could not prevent a wave of compassion flooding through her. She felt a common bond with this grandmother who she would never meet.

  They shared a common sorrow in the loss of a child. Anna mourned the children she had not mothered, and her grandmother bore the greater loss in mourning the child she had given birth to and loved enough to save her life at the cost of losing the child forever.

  Aileen Anne lived at the Quarrier’s Village for two years. Long enough, perhaps, for a small child to forget her mother? Would that be a better or worse fate?

  Anna’s research had revealed that William Quarrier, a Victorian philanthropist, had established a self-contained community with forty cottages set up to provide a family atmosphere for orphaned or abandoned children. Despite the contrast with the more depressing institutional buildings of the time, Quarrier’s made sure every child was disciplined, educated and given basic skills so he or she could be a productive member of society.

  The discipline must have been strict, thought Anna. How would a six year old girl adjust to this rigid routine? After being an only child for all of her young life, how did Aileen Anne cope with dormitories and hordes of strange children clamouring for attention from a few, very busy adults?

  Questions; always more questions, but Anna determined she would visit the present day Quarrier’s Village, if only to see for herself this location which was now considered sufficiently unusual to have been preserved as a conservation site.

  * * *

  At last the first leg of the weary journey was over when the bus pulled up at the terminal doors. As it was an evening departure, the terminal was not overly busy and Anna could see the huge structure, as much like an aircraft hangar as anything else, stretching in one long horizontal from her left to the distant right. Most of the area was dedicated to airline passenger check-in desks and Anna’s was near the entrance. Hauling her luggage, which seemed to be heavier than she remembered, she lined up with the other travellers and soon found herself with ticket and boarding pass in hand and only a carry-on bag to hoist over her shoulder, leaving her free to explore the airport.

  Maria, Samba’s most experienced international traveller, who regularly visited family in Italy, had impressed upon Anna a few cautions about air travel in the post 9-11 era.

  First, she should not partake of food or alcohol on the aircraft. Maria’s method for avoiding jet lag required the passenger to eat at normal hours and try to sleep on the plane instead of waiting endlessly for food service.

  Second, know the restricted items that must not be in the luggage, checked or carried.

  Third, make sure the carry-on bag is of the required size and can hold a purse also. These two should contain the essentials for the flight and changes for a day or two in case of lost or delayed luggage. Maria’s recommendation was to wear several layers of clothing and Anna’s heaviest shoes or boots, packing a pair of lighter shoes for comfort on the plane.

  Anna had followed these suggestions faithfully, and she now set out to walk around the terminal facilities (another of Maria’s requirements) to keep her circulation going and help pass the time until the required early arrival at the departure gates.

  Bookstores and gift shops were discovered behind the check-in counters and several restaurant or fast-food areas with seating were provided, but Anna could not see anything she wanted to eat. Her stomach was clenched with a mixture of excitement and fear and moving around seemed to be a better option.

  Maria had also warned that the distance from the terminal to the departure lounges was farther than Anna would expect and that she should keep her passport and boarding pass ready for inspection even after passing through the metal detectors. Anna congratulated herself on a shorter hairstyle that eliminated the indignity she usually endured because of the clips and hairpins her former style had required. She breezed through the metal portal and collected her coat and hand luggage without delay.

  Maria’s advice is right on target so far, she thought, as she walked down the long corridors to the lounges, passing coffee stalls and cheap jewellery displays.

  She stopped long enough to buy a bottle of cold water for the flight, as the importance of hydration had been impr
essed upon her, but resisted donuts and chocolate snacks as she knew from previous experience the messy clothing that resulted when chocolate bars were opened in a warm and restricted space.

  More waiting in the departure lounge then, finally, the boarding instructions, a blast of welcome cool night air coming up the covered linkway, and on to the plane and the window seat Maria had advised. With her carry-on bag under the seat in front, to allow her feet to be raised during the flight, Anna settled down with a glad sigh of relief.

  There was nothing more to do now. The plane would take off shortly and the adventure would soon begin.

  The last thing Anna could remember about the aircraft taxiing down the runway was the polite juggling for arm rest space with the man in the centre seat. The next thing she remembered was the jangling announcement of their imminent arrival in Glasgow and directions to raise the seat back into upright position ready for breakfast.

  “I must have slept for the entire flight!” Anna exclaimed, blinking her blurry eyes.

  “Lucky you,” suggested a weary voice. “The movies were awful and the sound system was worse. I didn’t get a wink of sleep.”

  The young man in the seat next to Anna was yawning and stretching as he complained.

  Anna could only sympathise with him and claim exhaustion as her secret sleep weapon.

  Quiet commiseration about travel in general, and businessman Steve’s almost weekly commute from New York to London or Glasgow, via Toronto or Montreal, occupied the remaining time until landing.

  Anna managed to spot islands in the sea through the grey clouds as they approached the runway. There were low hills shrouded in mist nearby, announcing to Anna that this was definitely not the flat plain of Toronto’s airport.

  Once inside the terminal, the contrast was gone, with the familiar carpeted corridors and long passages very similar to those in Pearson. The view through the large windows showed the usual bustling scene of a busy docking area with a light rain falling steadily from the overcast sky.

  Anna followed the passengers ahead of her to the baggage reclaim hall. As they neared the end of the corridors, they passed displays of Scottish goods. Anna stopped to admire the gleaming whisky bottles and the tartan tins of shortbread and almost caused a collision as travellers rushing home had to divert around her.

  Waiting for the luggage carousel to begin moving, Anna heard a selection of Scottish accents as passengers on cell phones announced their safe arrival to family and friends in the strident tones people everywhere tend to use in the belief that their conversation is inaudible to anyone else. Although some voices were harsh, the majority were not unlike her mother’s and father’s mid-Atlantic accents, similar to that of Steve, the businessman she had met on the plane.

  One group of young women attracted attention by flopping down on the polished floor and chatting loudly to each other about their recent exploits in Toronto where it seemed they had taken part in a sports tournament of some kind. Short tartan skirts and black t-shirts emblazoned with sparkling mottoes and motifs did not help Anna determine which sport they played but their joking and chanting, much of which was unintelligible to Anna, certainly confirmed they were a team.

  A loud grinding sound announced the imminent arrival of luggage and the waiting passengers edged closer so they could spot their belongings and beat the rush out of the airport.

  Looking around her, Anna noticed that most people had acquired a luggage cart and she spotted the area to the side of the baggage hall where arriving travellers were lined up to pull the carts out of some kind of rack. She quickly got into the line and soon arrived at the carts only to discover that there was a charge of a one pound coin in order to release the cart. Anna had Scottish pound notes in her wallet, but no coins at all.

  Seeing her situation, a woman behind her said, “Here, hen, ah’ve a spare pound. They machines are a damn nuisance. Trolleys used to be free, you know.” With a deft twist of her wrists, the woman unhooked the trolley and handed it to Anna.

  “You are very kind,” stammered Anna in surprise, “please let me pay you for that.”

  “You’re aw right dear. Welcome to Glasgow.” And with a smile she gathered up a brood of children and two trolleys and marched away.

  I can’t imagine that happening in a busy Canadian airport, thought Anna, as she made her way back to the carousel.

  Anna’s two items were quickly identified in the mass of similar-looking luggage thanks to Maria’s purchase of several brightly- woven straps cinching the centre of each case.

  “I must thank Maria for her invaluable help,” murmured Anna as she hefted the rain-wet cases on to a trolley and wheeled away to the exit.

  Cabs were waiting just outside the doors and a man wearing a yellow oilskin raincoat was keeping order in the line.

  “Where are you heading miss?” he asked, as he signalled to the next cab, opened the rear door, and pushed cases into the front seat all in the same practiced motion before Anna could reply. “Oh, Jury Hotel in Glasgow centre,” she stammered.

  “That’ll be the Jurys Inn, miss. Hope you enjoy your holiday.” With this he deftly shut the cab door, turned to the next customers in line, and Anna’s cab was whisked away to a traffic circle and spun out onto a motorway at great speed before she could fasten the seat belt.

  “Ah am apologising for the weather, miss,” said a friendly voice from the front seat. “Honest, it was quite nice yesterday. Are you here for a wee holiday, to see family, or is this a business trip maybe?”

  Anna’s gaze connected with the driver’s smile in the rear view mirror and she was amazed to find herself replying to his enquiry in a way she would never have done in a Canadian cab where most drivers’ conversation consisted of grunted monosyllables.

  “I guess it’s a combination of all three choices,” she said with a grin.

  “Oh, you’ll be an American then, from your accent?”

  “Canadian, actually,” and Anna felt an unexpected rush of pride in the claim.

  “Pardon me, miss. Ah had the same problem telling Americans from Canadians when ah was in Florida. It nearly got me in trouble a couple a times, ah can tell you.”

  “So you have been to the States?”

  “Aye, right enough. Me and the wife have travelled all over. We’re goin’ to Australia for Christmas with some pals.”

  Anna could not think of a suitable response to this statement so she looked out of the cab and found they were racing along a six-lane highway.

  Other than the fact they were on the wrong side of the road, from Anna’s perspective, it might have been a busy street in Toronto or Ottawa, with hotels, apartment buildings and offices on each side. An occasional glimpse could be seen between buildings of low, green hills in the distance, but nothing that announced ‘Scotland’.

  Well, what was I expecting, she chided herself, a pipe band in highland dress, perhaps?

  Thinking ahead to the next day’s train journey to Oban, she asked, “How far is the Queen Street station from my hotel?”

  “No far at all. You could walk it easy without two cases. Here’s ma card, miss.”

  The back of a muscular hand appeared in front of Anna and she took the card from its fingers rapidly, sensing the driver might need his two hands for the lane-changing diversions she had been observing all around them.

  “Jist ask the hotel to give me a ring and I’ll pick you up, no bother at all.”

  Anna thanked the cab driver, pocketed the card, and turned her attention to the road again.

  Among the signs displayed above the lanes directing traffic to points east and west was the name Glasgow City Centre. She realised with relief that this cab ride would be considerably shorter than the boring two-hour trip from south-western Ontario to Toronto airport.

  Checking her watch to see how long it had been since she arrived in Scotland, Anna hurried to advance the hands five hours for local time and when she looked up again she could see ahead of them busy streets thronge
d with pedestrians. Three lanes of cars facing in the same direction as Anna’s cab were poised under a bridge or tunnel, waiting for the traffic lights to change, but it was clear they were going to turn left or right since the street ahead had no cars or buses.

  “Oh, a pedestrians-only area,” she exclaimed, “how convenient for shoppers.”

  “Aye, miss, and a damn nuisance it is for drivers. You’ll be glad you’re no driving in Glasgow. All they one-way streets are a nightmare, but your hotel’s jist aroon this corner.”

  With that pronouncement, the lights changed to green and they turned to the right like a greyhound out of the blocks and in moments they were drawing up to the kerb outside the Jurys Inn.

  Chapter Ten

  Anna checked in with one of the smart young girls in navy suits and white shirts at the reception desk just inside the front doors of the hotel.

  While she was waiting for the safe deposit locker to be opened (a suggestion of Susan’s that her valuables would be safer under lock and key), she looked around the reception area and found that all of it was easily visible. To her left, a bright cafe or bar then two elevators, the reception desk, and to the right a restaurant busy with families and the clatter of plates and cups. The delicious smells of breakfast emerging from this location reminded Anna forcibly of how long it had been since she had eaten.

  The remaining space in the foyer was occupied by comfortable, red plush seating areas now full of travellers with their luggage, waiting for transportation, or possibly for rooms to become vacant.

  Anna gratefully accepted her room key and struggled to wrangle her cases into the narrow elevator without dropping her carry-on bag or envelope of travel papers. There did not seem to be any porters standing by to help but, in fact, Anna was glad to be able to manage by herself as she was anxious to divest herself of luggage without delay and be free to move around and explore.