by Joan Fleming
Scarred physically and emotionally after a car accident, Kirsty Mitchell fears that her two-year-old marriage may be falling apart. Her husband Adam has cancelled their planned holiday cruise to the Caribbean, as he has to work in London. After a blazing row, the couple part on seriously bad terms.
As Kirsty approaches her thirtieth birthday, she is looking ahead to six weeks’ holiday from her job as a classroom assistant in a primary school in Glasgow. She is facing a long, lonely summer in her city-centre flat.
Encouraged by her friend Freda, Kirsty decides to spend some time on the Isle of Mull, the Scottish island of which she has happy memories of visiting her late grandmother. She finds accommodation in a small guest house run by the Fergusons, a couple she knew from her younger days. Another friend she first met on the island as a teenager, Amy Wilson, now also lives on Mull, and Kirsty plans to make contact with her.
At the guest house, she comes into contact with Finn, a charismatic diver, who makes it clear he finds her attractive in spite of her scar, and they spend some time together.
Kirsty is facing an uncertain future. Will her stay on the island help her to recover from the accident? She is tempted to respond to the attentions of Finn, but should she make an effort to patch up her marriage to Adam?
SPIRIT OF THE ISLAND
The Magic of Mull Series, #2
Joan Fleming
Published by Tirgearr Publishing
Author Copyright 2015 Joan Fleming
Cover Art: EJR Digital Art (ejrdigitalart.com)
Editor: Christine McPherson
Proofreader: Sharon Pickrel
A Smashwords Edition
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This story is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, incidents are products of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
DEDICATION
For Iain and Hazel
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My thanks are due to a number of people who helped me to bring this book to publication.
A big thank you to all the members of the Tirgearr Publishing team, especially Kemberlee Shortland, who has had confidence in me from the start, and my lovely editor, Christine McPherson, who made the editing process so pain-free; my thanks go also to cover artist, Elle Rossi, for creating my beautiful cover.
Thanks to my friends at Erskine Writers for their continuous support, in particular Rosemary Gemmell, who is always ready to share the benefit of her experience, and Myra Duffy, who read my first draft and helped me sort out the early problems.
Members of the Romantic Novelists’ Association and of the Scottish Association of Writers who have been ready to offer encouragement and friendship along the way.
To my extended family and friends from the Isle of Mull, real people who helped me with factual details as I created my fictional characters.
Finally, thanks to my own family members, who are always there for me: my daughter, Hazel, for the advice she gave me on my first draft; and my son, Iain, for his unwavering support.
SPIRIT OF THE ISLAND
The Magic of Mull Series, #2
Joan Fleming
Chapter 1
‘You’ve dropped something.’ Kirsty Mitchell’s friend, Freda, bent to pick up the handwritten sheet of paper. ‘Is it important?’
‘Read it,’ Kirsty said. ‘It’s from Elsa, a woman I know in Mull. I didn’t go past the first paragraph.’
‘We’re having a party to celebrate our Silver Wedding next month,’ Freda read out. ‘Why don’t you come and bring that young man of yours? It’s about time we met him. How long have you been married now?’
While Freda was reading, Kirsty walked over to the window. Looking down onto the busy to-ing and fro-ing of the Glasgow city centre traffic, she could hear the noise of cars and buses–engines revving, brakes squealing–as they responded to the traffic lights at the crossroads. This hive of activity represented the lives of people going places, people in a hurry with appointments to attend, deadlines to meet, business to conduct.
Thinking about the days and weeks ahead, Kirsty had a leaden feeling in her stomach. Six weeks–possibly longer–stretched before her; about forty days with no appointments, no deadlines, a diary which was free of any engagements. How she envied the people in the street below.
It was good of Freda, one of her oldest friends, to come through from Edinburgh for the weekend, responding to her SOS. Amid tears of anger and disappointment, Kirsty had issued a cry for help.
‘Adam’s just left… I told him not to come back… I think our marriage is over… I don’t know what to do…’ she’d said, her voice muffled by her tears.
‘So you’re on your own?’ Freda asked.
‘Yes.’
‘I’ll be with you in a couple of hours.’
* * *
The argument had started when Kirsty’s husband, Adam, announced at short notice that he would be away from home for two months.
‘I’m sure you’ll find plenty to do,’ he’d said. ‘I might be back sooner than expected, but you have friends here…’
‘All my friends have made plans for the summer. If you’d given me more warning…’
‘I only heard two days ago. It’s too good an opportunity to miss, Kirsty. You do understand that, don’t you?’ He had taken hold of her hands, pulling her round, trying to make her look into his eyes. ‘You’ll be all right, won’t you?’
‘Of course, I’ll be all right.’ Her clipped tone could not have left her husband in any doubt about her reaction to his news. ‘Sensible, capable Kirsty. She’ll always make the best of things.’
‘Don’t be like that, darling. Sarcasm doesn’t help. We can plan the cruise for next year and, with the firm landing this contract, it could be bigger and better…’
‘I don’t need bigger and better, Adam. I’ve been looking forward to going on the cruise this year…’
‘You can still go. Take one of your friends with you,’ Adam said.
‘I’ve told you, they’re all booked up for their holidays. Besides, it wouldn’t be the same. I wanted to go with you.’
‘And I wanted to go with you, darling. But I really have no choice…’
You always have a choice, she’d thought.
Kirsty turned back into the room as Freda’s voice cut into her reverie.
‘Not the best timing for an invitation to a silver wedding, is it?’
‘You can say that again. How long have I been married?’ Kirsty said. ‘That’s a joke. Married for two years and we must have spent all of three months together.’
‘You could always go down to London with Adam,’ Freda said. ‘You’d enjoy exploring the city while he’s working. Then you’d be together in the evenings.’
‘A camp follower? No thanks, Freda. Adam wouldn’t like that, and nor would I. Besides, on these renovation projects, they work late into the evening, and Adam would insist on being on-site. No, I’ll have to think of something else.’
‘I would have joined you on the cruise, but Jeff and I will be away at that time.’
‘As will almost everyone I know. If only I’d had some warning… I don’t think I can stand this way of life anymore, Freda. This wasn’t what I signed up for.’
‘You�
��ve coped in the past, Kirsty, and you’ll cope again,’ Freda said. ‘There are lots of jobs that take men away from home.’
‘I know that, but it’s no consolation as you look ahead to six weeks of living alone. And a cancelled holiday. And an invitation specifically including your husband, when you don’t even know if he’ll be back in Scotland.’
‘You’re always talking about what you’d like to do if you had more time…’
‘But we had plans… plans to do things together. We were going to go house-hunting for somewhere to live away from the city centre. I wouldn’t be surprised if people think I’ve invented this husband who’s never around to be by my side.’
‘Was it unexpected, then? This London trip?’ Freda asked.
‘It seems so. He only mentioned it for the first time last week. I wouldn’t mind so much if I was working. But right at the start of the school holidays…’ She straightened her shoulders and took a deep breath. ‘Sorry, Freda. No more moaning. I’ll work something out.’
Although grateful for Freda’s support, Kirsty realised she would have to make her own new plans for the summer. She was still coming to terms with the cancelled holiday for two on a cruise liner in the Caribbean. She had spent so many hours planning the trip over the winter.
‘I was so looking forward to the cruise,’ she told Freda. ‘It would have meant being really close for a couple of weeks. We’ve grown apart since the accident. At times Adam’s like a different person…’
‘I’m sure you’re imagining that,’ Freda said.
Ignoring her friend’s remark, Kirsty said, ‘It’s as if he can’t look at my face, can’t look at…’ As she spoke, she trailed her fingers over the jagged scar which ran down her cheek. ‘I think he wants to spend as much time as possible away from me.’
‘Now you are indulging in flights of fancy, Kirsty. You’ll be telling me next you think he’s having an affair…’
‘Is he?’
‘Is he what?’
‘Having an affair?’
‘Oh, for heaven’s sake, Kirsty! Adam had to go to London to work. I’m sure he’s as disappointed as you are that plans for the summer have been messed up, but he can’t do anything about it. Try to accept it, and stop letting your imagination run riot on all sorts of ulterior motives for a simple business trip.’ Freda’s down-to-earth tone continued when she added, ‘and leave that scar alone. You’ll not make it fade any faster by constantly touching it.’
Kirsty knew Freda would not give up on her–they’d been friends too long. Having been at school in Edinburgh together, they’d formed a bond that remained strong today. Now, as they both approached the end of their twenties, Kirsty really appreciated her friend’s loyalty. Freda had responded instantly when Kirsty called her after the row with Adam, and hadn’t thought twice about coming to Glasgow for the weekend.
‘This makes me feel like a total failure,’ Kirsty said. ‘I can’t even keep my husband by my side when we’ve booked to go away together.’
‘A total failure? Hardly, Kirsty. You’re a success in your job…’
‘Was, maybe. My contract finished a week ago.’
‘You’ll find another one. They’ll be looking for good classroom assistants after the school holidays.’
‘Oh yes,’ Kirsty said. ‘They’ll look for them, but they can’t afford to pay them. So here I am: no husband, no job, and an empty six weeks ahead of me…’
‘None of that’s your fault. Your husband’s absence is temporary; funding ran out for your job; and as for children…’
‘Don’t go there, Freda. Do not go there.’ Kirsty’s tone left no doubt: this was not a matter for discussion.
‘Okay, okay. Sorry…’
Kirsty reached for a tissue from the box on her desk, sending paperwork flying to the floor, only to realise it was empty. Rummaging in her bag, Freda produced a small packet of paper hankies and handed it to her friend, before picking up the papers.
‘I’ll go and make us some tea. Then let’s go out for something to eat. You look as if you could do with a good meal.’ Ignoring Kirsty’s protestations, she continued, ‘So where shall we go? Italian? Fish and chips?’
* * *
It was about two hours later that both women returned to Kirsty’s flat, by which time she had regained a modicum of composure–and eaten her first square meal since Adam dropped his bombshell.
‘So, what are your thoughts on this silver wedding party?’
Kirsty gave her a questioning look.
‘The silver wedding on the island of Mull,’ Freda said. ‘You’ll have to reply. Have you ever spoken to me about this couple?’
‘I think I have. I knew them years ago when I went to Mull to visit my granny. There was a crowd of us. Teenagers–we hung about together. Elsa was a friend of Granny’s, and she always welcomed our crowd in her restaurant.’ Kirsty lost eye-contact with Freda for a few moments as her thoughts roamed to those far-off days spent on the island.
‘You had some good times there, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, we all did. They were magic days. I never wanted to go back home to Edinburgh…’ Pulling herself back to the present, she added, ‘But there’s no way I’m going to a wedding celebration in Mull.’
‘Because it’s in Mull? Or because it’s a wedding?’
Kirsty considered this. ‘I couldn’t go to a party at the moment. I’d be sitting there feeling sorry for myself, wishing Adam was there with me.’ She took a sip of her glass of wine. ‘But I suppose that makes me a bad person, doesn’t it? Thinking about myself all the time…’
‘Don’t be too hard on yourself, Kirsty. The last six months haven’t been easy for you. Or for Adam.’ Freda topped up their glasses. ‘That’s a lovely red wine,’ she said.
‘Yes, Adam always buys good wines.’
‘Coming back to the Isle of Mull,’ Freda said swiftly, ‘would you pay a visit to the island if it wasn’t for the silver wedding party? You said you had magic days there.’
There was silence for a moment as Kirsty considered the idea. ‘Yes, I suppose I would. Granny’s house was set on fire not long after she died, and it was rebuilt. I’ve no idea who’s living there now. My mum dealt with everything at the time.’
‘You could go and spend some time on the island, in a hotel or a B&B. From what you say, it sounds like a place where you would enjoy some relaxation. You haven’t had a break since the accident. Did Adam ever go there with you?’
Kirsty thought for a moment. ‘No, he’s never been to Mull. Not because he didn’t want to come with me, but he was never around at the times I was able to go. That’s the problem with Adam: he’s never available. It’s the same old story.’
‘It sounds to me as if a few weeks on the island would be ideal for you right now; it’s a place you know well, and I fancy the peace and quiet there would do you good. And Adam could come and join you whenever–’
‘Whenever he managed to find the time.’
‘Don’t be bitter about it, Kirsty. He doesn’t even know about the silver wedding.’
‘Maybe you’re right, Freda. Mull ticks a lot of boxes. I could stay at Elsa’s place if she has a room free…’
‘Why don’t we go through to your bedroom this minute and do some packing? You certainly won’t need any of those ridiculous heels you usually wear. I imagine trainers and wellies would be the most suitable footwear.’
Chapter 2
Three days later, Kirsty found herself in the Lochside Inn on the Isle of Mull, a guest of Elsa and Charlie Ferguson. It was a short distance from the village of Bunessan in the Ross of Mull, but she had been there many times in the past. Less colourful than in Tobermory–the capital of the island–the row of buildings by the roadside included a hotel, The Argyll Arms, and a convenience shop. The Bunessan Hall was the venue for ceilidhs she had often attended in her youth, especially on a Saturday night.
During the journey to the island her mind had been full of thoughts of th
e last six months: the accident seemed like a watershed. Since the accident was a phrase she used constantly; her life had changed so much.
The scar on her face was the only outward sign of what had happened. Difficult though it was to live with, Kirsty worried more about the way her relationship with Adam had changed. They had lost the closeness they’d had before. It was as if the car crash had destroyed their love for each other.
It was only when she caught sight of McCaig’s Tower–the folly dominating the town of Oban–that she realised how much she’d missed on her ninety-mile journey from Glasgow: the Trossach's National Park, where the road took her along the western shore of Loch Lomond; the mountains, including Ben Lomond itself; then the drive alongside the brooding Loch Fyne.
How could she have allowed that breathtaking scenery to go unnoticed? She could almost taste the bitterness in her mouth: the accident.
During the crossing from Oban to Craignure on the MV Isle of Mull, snippets of the quarrel she’d had with Adam refused to leave her in peace. She thought about going on deck with her camera, but abandoned the idea. Even taking the opportunity to have a light lunch on board before she disembarked required an effort of will.
The harsh words she and Adam had exchanged kept repeating in her mind, like a toothache that refused to go away.
Maybe you’d be as well to stay away… it’s my job… you’re nothing but grief at the moment, Kirsty… so, don’t come back… that sounds like a damn good idea.
