Category:
Action/Thriller
Central London gets Kate and Greg Bailey down. The skills of a hair stylist and a health club manager seem transferable to the Scottish Isle of Arran. But the move turns out to be a disaster for them both. As their relationship tears apart, Kate must survive traumatic events. Can she turn her world around on her own? Can she possibly find contentment in her life as the wild sea churns over and the fresh sea breezes blow in her direction?
Chapter 4
Another Ford Kuga, this time a grey one, rested in the hospital car park. Kate walked slowly to the man by the car, aware of her niggling whiplash injury.
‘Here are your keys and car papers sir,’ said the smartly dark-suited, car deliverer.
‘I’m dreadfully sorry about this,’ said Greg looking suitably and sincerely contrite.
‘Not to worry, sir. Accidents do happen. You are not the first,’ he replied with a reassuringly broad smile.
‘Yes, but the car is a wright-off,’ commented Greg.
‘Not really. We get scrap metal out of it as well as spares. So, not really a complete write-off. Yes, better if any accident didn’t happen. But that’s not realistic. Have a pleasant journey Sir, Madam.’
‘But can’t we give you a lift back to your garage?’
The car deliverer pointed to a Jaguar sitting nearby. The driver was seated at the wheel. ‘I’ve got my lift back, thanks.’
Greg was soon on the motorway again. This time cruise control was at 60 mph and both of them were slightly slouched forward. They were on the lookout for revengeful deer.
Half an hour later as they drove under a pass-over, they saw the welcome to Scotland sign and they immediately left the motorway for the west coast. However there was still a long way away to go and the road took them on the Dumfries bypass half an hour later. Kate consulted the roadmap and saw the winding road up through Dumfries and Galloway to Ayrshire.
‘Oh God, the Arran sailing. Our tickets were for yesterday,’ said Greg gripping the steering wheel and looking like a frightened hare.
‘Too late. Even if we have to spend an extra night in Ardrossan, we’ll sort it out,’ said Kate calming his fears.
‘What else can go wrong,’ said a grim faced Greg.
‘Let me phone the Ardrossan number. Now where is it?’
Kate opened the glove box and found the correct papers.
‘Hello? Hi we are Kate and Greg Bailey. We should have been on the ferry yesterday but, well,.... well we couldn’t make it. Can you put us on a sailing this afternoon instead?’ she asked crossing her fingers on her uninjured hand.
‘Now let me see. First, can you make the 2 pm or the 5 pm sailing?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said biting her bottom lip.
‘Well, where are you now?’
‘Greg where are we now?’ she asked placing her hand over her mobile.
‘Almost at Kilmarnock.’
‘Just about at Kilmarnock,’ she informed him.
‘If you don’t make any stops I can get you onto the 2 pm ferry. Make sure you don’t go into Kilmarnock. Take the exits, lots of roundabouts to go but you will soon see the boat symbol on signposts. Right, I’ll book you on the 2 pm ferry. I’ve got your car registration details from yesterday. And it’s the two of you, yes?’
‘Err... no. We have a different car registration number,’ she said rifling through the collection of papers. ‘Ah, here it is SE18 RND.’
‘I see. Had an accident then?’
Kate was taken aback. ‘Umm yes, not serious though,’ she said minimising her injuries and conveniently forgetting the write-off damaged car.
‘You are not the first to have had an accident and missed the sailing, not by a long chalk. So, 1:30 here at Ardrossan and you’ll be on the 2 pm sailing.’
‘Thank you so much. You’ve put our minds at ease,’ said Kate taking a sigh of relief as soon as she switched off.
They passed the turn off for Troon, then Irvine and saw the sea for the first time. The ‘sleeping warrior’ capped the Arran Mountains and the guide book made reference to them.
‘I can see Arran. It can’t be far off the mainland,’ said Kate taking out her sunglasses and positioning them on the bridge of her nose.
Saltcoats was by-passed and they travelled to the end of Ardrossan before turning onto the shore road where they first saw the MV Caledonian Isles in port. They joined the queue of cars after a brief stop at the kiosk checking the car registration and number of passengers aboard the car.
They gingerly left the car and made for the toilets. En route Greg took a deep breath of sea air. So did Kate. They were nearly on Arran and their dream was materialising.
The voyage was just a few minutes over an hour. During that time, they had lunch then a walk on deck. Their hair blew this way and that as they held on to the wooden rail barrier. They saw porpoises ahead ushering the ship to port and the bobbing heads of grey seals on the lookout for any scraps which the passengers might throw overboard. Seagulls were more numerous, boisterous and charming passengers into throwing pieces of sandwiches to them.
‘Sea air is good for the hair, you know, strengthens the strands. Wish I could import the air to Chelsea,’ said a smiling Kate.
‘Not very practical. Perhaps you could gather seaweed instead,’ suggested Greg with a gesture of his hand, like an actor.
‘Yes, seaweed in my hair. That’s even better,’ she told him clinging on to his other arm.
They docked at Brodick and made their way to the Belvedere Guest House on Alma Road which they had booked.
‘Welcome, welcome. I was getting a wee bit worried but you’ve made it. Come away in,’ said their host Mrs McSkimming.
‘Yes, I’m afraid we had a road accident and that put us back a day. I’m sorry, we should have contacted you earlier.’
‘Oh dear me. So that’s a recent plaster, dearie?’
Kate closed her lips tightly and nodded.
‘And you sir. I see you’ve been in the wars too?’
‘Nothing serious I assure you,’ Greg admitted.
‘Well, I think a cup of tea is what you need. I’ll put the kettle on,’ Mrs McSkimming said leaving Kate to sit in the lounge and focus her eye on the bird feeder outside the window. Greg emptied the car and brought the bags into the hallway.
‘While the pot is brewing, I’ll take you to your rooms upstairs.’
They followed Mrs McSkimming to the spacious bedroom which sat at the back of the house. A neatly mown lawn was surrounded by a border of lupines and wisteria, poppies and forget-me-not edging. Through an open window bees could be heard on their trumpet seeking patrols.
‘The window’s a wee bittie open. I always think it freshens the room. Close it if you wish but perhaps leave it open at night. Just to keep you at the right sleeping temperature. Well, I’ll leave you to sort out your things. Come down as soon as you are ready, the tea will be too,’ she laughed nervously and made her way downstairs.
Kate drew Greg to herself. She put her hand around his waist and stood on tiptoes to kiss him. ‘She’s really cute. I’m sure we have found a good base to explore tomorrow.’
‘Okay, I hear you.’
They slept well and were woken by the smell of sizzling bacon, in the morning. Kate drew back the curtain and was assaulted by a sharp shaft of light. It was a cloudless sky. They would have cause for a spring in their step.
Their ablutions complete and the car with a full tank, they set off north on the east coast. There were a few villages to encounter and some like Sannox which came up too quickly, made them pass by without a stop but at Lochranza, there was time to park and explore.
They took the path through the golf course and saw deer once more but this time sitting on the greens and fairways of the course. They seem so docile. Kate had a tear in her eye when recalling the fate of the last deer to confront her, a mere twenty-four hours ago. They looked at her as they passed. It seemed they knew one of their clan had been killed by the twosome. Such was their stare.
An enterprising coffee shop appeared as they started to walk up a soft incline. They decided to enter. It was mid-morning after all.
‘Good morning, two coffees please.’
The woman looked at the pair, sizing them up. That’ll be £2 with two cheese scones?’
‘Oh rather, just the thing. Yes, two please.’
‘Then that’ll be £3.00 total.’
Kate handed over a five pound English note. ‘Keep the change,’ she said as she smiled recognising the price paid, as paltry.
The woman raised the note to the light by the window. ‘That’s very kind of you,’ the woman said.
‘It’s a real note,’ said Kate smiling, having noticed her reticence in taking the money.
‘I know it is. It’s just that in England it’s what they do to our Scottish notes. A bit of your own treatment, for fun, of course.’
Greg and Kate gave a forced pleasing grunt.
‘Come from the London area?’
‘Yes as a matter of fact. We don’t pay your prices in London, I can assure you.’
‘I don’t think they southerners are greedy. Just their overheads are so large. Rent and of course some well-heeled customers, I’m sure.’
‘I agree. A rat-race and wasn’t it your Jimmy Reid who first talked about that? Rat races were for rats,’ Greg replied sitting back in the hope all could appreciate his historical knowledge.
‘So, on holiday?’
‘Sort of,’ said Kate sipping her hot coffee.
‘Sort of?’ enquired their host with a slanted head.
‘With a view of living on the island,’ Greg ventured.
The woman nodded silently for a moment. ‘Well, what is it you do? I mean you are too young to retire.’
They both smiled. ‘Greg runs a fitness gym in London. He wants to start one here,’ said Kate rubbing Greg’s knee in a moment of affection.
‘A gym? Well, I guess you are trying to make us fit. We’re a fit lot you know. The fishermen, the farmers, the community activities.’
‘You mean there’s no need for a fitness centre?’ asked Greg feeling a little concerned.
‘Don’t get me wrong. There’s a need for a gym. You’ll have to get all those home exercise bikes and pull contraptions out of their garages. But you’ll get enough to make ends meet. I guess. Especially in winter. And you, what do you do?’
‘I’m a hairstylist,’ said Kate.
‘A hair dresser? Well we’ve many shops around Brodick, Lamlash, even here at Lochranza,’ the woman said.
‘So a competitive market? Too many on the island,’ Kate responded biting her bottom lip.
‘No, not if you play your cards right. We’re well catered for with hairdressers on the east coast. What we don’t have are hairdressers a-plenty on the west coast. But there’s no point getting a property converted into a salon, in the west,’ she said shaking her head.
‘Why,’ asked Kate eager to find the elusive solution.
‘Sparse population. Hamlets more than towns, all the way up and down. You’d make it if you had a mobile salon. Make it big time I reckon. Especially if you cut male heads too. They women would love that.....They have rough sea blown hair and it needs a regular shaping. Sea air makes the hair grow too, needs regular cutting as well. They would not have to have a day’s outing to the east side of the island for a haircut. I think you’ve hit the nail on the head.’
Kate smiled at Greg. ‘Looking good then, darling.’
Greg pouted his lips and nodded so minimally, it gave Kate an uncertain feeling.
The following day they left Brodick to see the west coast of the island. It was a changed day. A grey mist descended making tree lines disappear. The grey sea was white with angry waves and no horizon came into view. Greg struggled to keep is eye on the windy road, unfamiliar to him and challenging in the dampness.
Kate had a note pad on her lap to record as much information as possible, not trusting her memory. She cast her eyes on the silent Holy Island on their way south. This Buddhist sanctuary was only an outline in the mist.
‘Mystical Island. We must visit that too,’ she said.
‘An island off an island, that’s a bit too much. I’d never get work there.’
‘Oh come on Greg, this is also a holiday, don’t forget.’
‘Forget? You are not driving.’
Kate said nothing, hoping Greg would get out of his negative thinking about their venture. She recalled all his recent comments since the accident. He did not seem himself. This was not the man she married six years ago. No seven years ago, by now. Seven. Was this the dreaded seven y
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