Return to Oban

by Ruth Hay

  “But what did his wife say?” Anna was having trouble speaking through her laughter.

  “Oh she was a little mouse, unfortunately. She never dared to express her opinion. As far as I am concerned, she deserves the ghastly wine and black mess on her dining room wall. They’ll be looking at it for years to come. The stuff was so heavily embossed and so deeply coloured that there’s no chance of painting over it, and the glue required to make it adhere to the wall was like cement. It’s there till the house falls down, I tell you.”

  The car seemed to shake with the gales of laughter these comments created. Anna could not remember the last time she had laughed so hard or so easily. She felt a cloud lift from her mind; a cloud that had darkened her thoughts for a long period, perhaps as long as since Lawren had died. It might be related to the lightness she experienced once she had revealed to Ashley the details of his death, or it might be the effect of the scenery she could see from the car. Whichever, she was enjoying the feeling.

  It was a beautiful gift of a day coming after the first real warnings of approaching winter. The earth had reneged on its promise and restored one glorious, late Fall reminder of the season that was passing. The sky was a clear blue, the fields had cast off the remnants of snow and returned to their final green glory interspersed with banks of purple heather climbing up the lower slopes of the mountains in the distance. The trees were about to shake off their lingering leaves as soon as the next chill winds blew in, but for now all was perfect and peaceful around them.

  “It’s so good to hear you so sounding carefree, Anna.” Bev had taken her friend’s arm and whispered in her ear.

  Jeanette was swearing in unladylike fashion at the GPS which was supposed to be taking them to some obscure destination where the day’s shooting was scheduled.

  “It says I’m to turn here and drive for three miles along this winding trail that looks to be heading upward. I doubt the film crew could get their big trailers up here but George assured me the GPS thing works so we’d better give it a try. Hang on you two!”

  Jeanette’s warning came just in time as the trail was rough and littered with stones washed down from the hills in the recent rains. Bumping up and down made the women slightly hysterical but they were game for anything as long as they were together.

  After what seemed like five miles, two huge trucks appeared on the horizon beside the ruins of an old castle or fortress. All three women shouted with glee and were soon approached by a uniformed guard who cautioned them to be quiet and park to the side in a field with several other cars.

  “You ladies must be verra respectful and you canna bother the actors. The director has not much patience the day. He was planning on dull and grey weather for atmosphere and this braw sunshine is not tae his liking, ye ken?”

  They hushed each other until more demure attitudes were achieved, and then they crept across the field in the wake of the guard until they could see an amazing sight suddenly emerge within the walls of a grimy courtyard. They huddled together on benches placed on top of a stone platform with a handful of other excited spectators. So much was happening that it was difficult at first to focus. Bev nudged Anna and pointed to the horses standing with their handlers. Jeanette was watching the set being speedily erected in a corner so that it was transformed into a stall with vegetables and loaves of bread for sale. A group of women in long, trailing, woollen skirts were standing in a huddle to one side smoking cigarettes and waiting for instructions. Across the floor of the set ran a metal track along which the camera could speed while following the action.

  Anna checked out all the actors but could see no one who looked like dark-haired Claire or red-headed Jamie. She wondered if the stars would appear at all. This could be a minor scene involving only secondary characters, but fascinating all the same, to see the eighteenth century recreated on a modern Scottish hillside. Of course, the hillside and the ruined fort were not much changed in the last centuries.

  This thought hit Anna with the power of a revelation. She had a sense of time passing; places and people disappearing from the land; buildings disintegrating, kings and warriors obliterated, but the land endures. All at once she wanted to be alone to think of Lawren in this landscape. He was one of those who had lived and loved and gone, never to return, but always to be remembered.

  The director was calling loudly for silence as the actors moved into place. All eyes were on the busy set and Anna slipped away by herself, murmuring something about fetching a scarf from the car.

  * * *

  She spotted a lone tree on the hillside above the parked cars and was drawn toward it. Her heart was heavy with loss as she stood with her back to the tree trunk. It was then she cast her gaze upward and saw a magnificent view. Hills and glens stretching up to the high mountains that spoke to her of timeless endurance.

  “I to the hills will lift mine eyes,” she whispered, “From whence doth come mine aid.”

  The old words gave comfort and the pain in her heart gradually faded again.

  She knew deep within her, that the one to whom you have given your heart cannot ever be far away.

  The wind came rushing down the valley and rattled the leaves on the tree beneath which she stood.

  The glorious day was coming to an end. She had left her coat on the wooden bench where Bev and Jeanette waited and now she needed its protection.

  She slipped back into her seat and Bev turned to her and said, “Did you see that? The swordplay looked so real but the choreographer stopped the men several times and reset their positions. Who knew so much effort went into one short scene? It’s amazing!”

  Jeanette replied, “I’ll never watch television again without appreciating how many people and their unique skills go into a production. Oh, look! Here come Jamie and Murtagh. Don’t they look magnificent on their horses? And those tartan plaids splayed out along the horses’ rear quarters are just splendid.

  I am so glad we came!”

  Anna soon became lost in the scene playing out before her. They could not hear all the dialogue and often found the main characters obscured by sound boards or lighting screens but it was fascinating to get a peek at how it all came together.

  Finally, the director called, “That’s a take! Thank you everyone. We’ll call it a day before the light fades.”

  Jeanette jumped up and led the way back to the car. Bev told Anna their friend wanted to get ahead of the other cars or they would be hours getting back to the main road again.

  Anna was quiet on the return trip. Her two friends chatted on about what they had seen but Anna was pleasantly tired and content to listen. When they arrived at Fiona’s house in the forest, she met them at her front door with the baby in her arms and declared she was coming with them in her own car as Ashley had phoned to say Sylvia had been delivered and she was terrified there might be something wrong with the cat.

  “Why? What’s happened?” asked Anna in some alarm.

  “Ashley couldn’t tell me. She said the cat was growling at her all the time and she was afraid it would injure itself trying to get out of the cage.”

  Some discussion ensued and the conclusion was for Bev and Anna to go with Fiona to the estate house while Jeanette drove home to her family.

  Fiona knew about the plan to buy food for a meal at Anna’s. She had raided her own larder and placed a basket in the boot of the car. As soon as the baby had been handed to his father, they set out to drive through the town and out onto the country road at a pace that reminded Anna of Fiona’s younger days driving a shared taxi with Grant, Cameron’s father.

  “What on earth could be wrong?” she asked.

  “I really don’t know. The kitten was in good shape when Callum collected her from our shed. It’s always possible she did not respond well to the cage, or to the car, but she had lots of gentle handling from Fergus and Shona so she should be accustomed to humans by now.”

  They rocketed into the lane leading to the estate house gate and Anna was out o
f the car as soon as the engine shut off. As she ran up the path she could hear the loud yowling sounds of an animal in distress.

  Ashley met them at the door.

  “I’m so sorry! I couldn’t reach your phone so I called Fiona. I couldn’t get a lick of work done with the awful noise the cat is making. I’ve never heard such a sound coming from such a small creature. What did I do wrong?”

  Anna patted her arm reassuringly, and with Fiona right behind her, she walked quietly into the kitchen and soon found the cage under the bottom shelf in the larder.

  Sylvia was still frantically trying to climb out of the metal cage with no success. She had upturned the water dish and the food dish and had wet kibble stuck to her paws. Fiona began to speak to the kitten in soft tones which had the effect of stopping the howling, while Anna undid the latch holding the front section of the cage. Immediately, the cat moved forward warily and sniffed the two women, then she ventured out of the despised cage and rushed under the kitchen table. Anna made sure the door to the entry hall was shut. It was going to be necessary to keep the cat secured in one area until she felt safe again. Fiona was still coaxing Sylvia to be calm with her quiet voice and gentle soothing sounds and Anna remembered their days with Sylvester in the cupboard while they worked together to save his life.

  Sylvia was much bigger than the poor helpless wildcat had been. She seemed much happier now she had been freed from her prison. Her next move was over to the window seat where she sniffed the cushion eagerly and finally curled up with her nose on her paws, with her long tail curling over both and settled to sleep.

  Fiona and Anna smiled. Sylvia had chosen Morag’s favourite spot. Bev, who had been waiting to see what would happen, also recalled fond memories of the brown tabby who had lived in both farmhouses.

  Ashley, noticing the sudden silence from the other side of the kitchen door, dared to open it an inch to see if everyone was still alive.

  “It’s all right now, Ashley. Come in. She’s asleep, poor wee thing. She must be exhausted. The vet should have known better than to leave her here without any comforts.”

  Fiona had taken a seat on the window bench, still making soothing sounds and stroking the kitten’s fur.

  “Ashley, please go and fetch the basket from the car. There’s salad and quiche and fruit in there. We can eat in the lounge and give her some peace till she settles down.”

  Ashley sped down the path, glad to get away from the chaos of the cat’s arrival. She would have been quite happy to eat in the car but that would be revealing her distaste for the animal and considering how delighted the three older women were about the noisy invader, she would not be endearing herself to them by doing so.

  She found the basket, heavy with food supplies, and took it back inside the house, spreading the feast out on the office desk so everyone could help themselves and sit on the couch, or the chairs by the lounge fireside, in comfort. She put a match to the fire. The fine day had cooled and any room outside of the kitchen was going to be cold this evening.

  Anna soon appeared with dishes and silverware. Fiona was filling the teapot with boiling water from the kettle on top of the Aga and she soon arrived with glasses and a bottle of wine as well as tea cups.

  Since the office door was open, the conversation soon turned to the subject of the book Ashley was writing.

  “How far along are you? What have you discovered? Who have you talked to?”

  The real question Bev and Fiona wanted to ask was, ‘How does Anna feel about this?’ but neither wished to embarrass their hostess or her great-niece.

  Sensing the unspoken question, however, Anna decided it was time to make clear her total support for the book.

  “Ashley has been very patient with me. She is a good listener and I have been able to open up to her here in the house in a way I have not been comfortable with before. She is in charge of what will be included in the book but I am sure I will have final say over anything too personal.”

  From her seat by the fireside, Bev commented, “It sounds as if you have unburdened yourself of some troublesome memories, Anna. Am I right?”

  “Yes. Something about my illness and being confined to bed made me appreciate my responsibility to share more about my years with Lawren and to let the art world know him as a man as well as a consummate artist. It feels right to do it now. After all none of us has forever.”

  Everyone in the room knew Anna was thinking of Lawren’s sudden death. Only two of them knew the remarkable details, however, and Ashley was determined to change that.

  Fiona got up and put down her cup. “I have to be getting home to my wee bairn. Gordon is very good with him but he can’t substitute for a mother’s breast.”

  The women nodded and smiled. Fiona went over to Anna, looked her in the face then pulled her into a huge hug, whispering in her ear as she did so. Ashley, who was nearest, heard the word ‘godmother’.

  It was a signal for the day to end. Fiona took away the empty dishes and reminded Anna to call her with an update on Sylvia’s progress. Bev said she would be back in the morning and she left with Fiona for the short ride home. Anna tiptoed into the kitchen and brought back the despised cage, now cleaned out, setting it on the window seat beside the cat with a soft pillow bed inside and a litter tray and water bowl.

  As the house emptied, there was one last interruption for Ashley. Her phone in the office chimed and she rushed to answer it before the cat’s yowling could start up again.

  “Ashley Stanton? This is Warren Brady. I hope it’s not too late to bother you?”

  “No! No, Warren. I am delighted you returned my call so quickly. What did you think about the illustrated book idea?”

  “Well, my girl, you certainly set the cat among the pigeons over here. Our phones have been ringing all day with calls from Ottawa, New York and London, of course. That’s both Londons, by the way!”

  “But what’s going on?”

  “You must have known new works by Lawren Drake would get a lot of attention. The single photo you sent was quite enough to start a buying frenzy. A self-portrait? It’s a rarity these days.”

  “But, what about the book? Are illustrations going to push up the price and interest more buyers?”

  “That might work, Ash. The reaction seems to indicate a separate publication for the art lovers with high photographic quality. More of a coffee table book; you know the kind of thing.”

  Ashley knew exactly what he meant and it was far from the reader-friendly biography she had envisioned for Anna’s story. She saw the book idea fading into the background and with it went her input.

  “Listen, Warren! I don’t want to play hardball here, but you must realize the drawings and the text are at my great-aunt’s discretion and she has entrusted both to me. I need to know you support the book first and foremost. I can assure you it will be just as stunning in its own way as the drawings. Oh, in case you are in any doubt, I am reserving a copy of one of Lawren Drake’s drawings for the cover of my book.”

  She paused to catch her breath. She had placed a deal of emphasis on the last two words and she was aware she might have gone a little too far with an important Canadian publisher.

  There was a brief pause on the line. Ashley gritted her teeth.

  “Right! I see what you are saying. Let me get back to you tomorrow. You seem to hold all the cards for now, young Ashley. So, with the vital Christmas market in mind, how fast can you get the book ready for print? Give me the title and send a chapter for approval and we’ll see what we can do.”

  Ashley exhaled. There was still a chance the book would go ahead but it was imperative Warren Brady thought she was prepared to send her book draft for approval as soon as possible. She shuffled the paper on her desk until she uncovered the list of titles and chose the first one that appealed to her.

  “I have a title. It’s this, A Private Couple Revealed: Anna and Lawren Drake.”

  “Hmmm….. the personal approach. I like it! If your text mat
ches in quality and purpose, we could make both ideas work. Oh, I may have to send a British expert to you to assess the market value of the drawings. I’ll be in touch about that.”

  “I’ll send a word document to you tomorrow, Warren. Thanks again.”

  She clicked off before he could demand more evidence. She was five hours ahead of North American time which gave her all night and most of the morning to knock the first chapter into shape and write it in such a way as to convince Warren Brady of the financial viability of Anna’s story.

  With her head spinning, she opened her laptop and began to make crucial decisions for chapter one.

  Start with Anna meeting Lawren on her London condo doorstep?

  Skip ahead to the first visit to his studio and the impressions she gained there?

  Introduce Susan and the boardroom portraits?

  Describe the Three Women painting that she had exclusive access to, as a beginning point?

  Start with Anna’s description of Lawren’s death and work in a flashback from there?

  Anna looked into the lounge and saw Ashley with her laptop open, typing away at a furious rate.

  She hesitated to interrupt to ask about the phone call and decided to wait until morning. It had been an unusual day and she was tired. She would light the fire in her own bedroom for comfort and add peat to the lounge fire so Ashley would stay warm. She noticed the tartan shawl on the back of the desk chair.

  Sylvia was fast asleep.

  Ashley was fine. Anna could rest undisturbed.

  Chapter Twenty

  Edmund Jansen survived his long days at the surgery by visualizing how sweet it would be to go to his little cottage at the end of the day. He imagined the scene would include the lovely Ashley and there would be cozy sessions by the fireside with the sound of waves crashing on the shoreline outside and wind whistling in the chimneypots above.

  The weather seemed to cooperate with his plan but that was all. Cold winds blew a storm in from the Atlantic every two or three days. Clouds obscured the sky and an endless line of coughing, sneezing, bronchial patients assembled in the waiting room. He began to count the hours until old Doctor Williams was due to return.