An Island Apart (3 page)

Kirsty had been shown the letter before it had been put in the envelope and had nodded diffident approval. She'd noticed that the minister had made no reference to her parents. She hadn't been surprised. No one had mentioned either of her parents in her presence since the day she'd asked her Granny, ‘Where is my mother?' She'd expected to be gravely told that her mother had ‘passed on', but instead her Granny had cackled light-heartedly, ‘Ach, she took one look at you and straightaway took herself off to Canada or some such place.'

Kirsty had tried to be similarly light-hearted. ‘And my father?' she pursed. ‘Ach, didn't your mother get you from some fellow in Glasgow. I doubt she'd know more of him that you do yourself. He's best put out of mind.'

Kirsty had been too unused to affection to be much disturbed that neither of her parents had wanted her. Such accidents were not rare in the Islands and the ‘cailleach', as she'd always called her Granny, had brought her up and in an offhand way, had bestowed on her a degree of affection that had saved her from feeling rejected.

She'd been nervous as she'd reached up to press the bell at the side of the
ISLAY
's front door and even more so when the door was opened by a short, plump, white-haired lady with blue probing eyes behind gold-rimmed spectacles.

‘You will be Kirsty MacLennan, will you not?' the lady had asked.

Kirsty had held out the letter. ‘I am to give this to Mrs Ross,' she'd managed to say.

‘I am Mrs Ross and you see the name
ISLAY
above the door so give me the letter and come away inside so I can take a good look at you,' the lady had said, leading Kirsty into the kitchen at the back of the house.

All Mrs MacDonald, the minister's wife, had told Kirsty was that Mrs Ross was looking for a servant girl to help her run her boarding house and has asked a friend if she knew anyone who might be suitable. The friend had told Mrs MacDonald and so Kirsty's name had been put forward. Mrs Ross was reputed to be a shrewd but tolerant woman who demanded good and reliable service from her employees. Her previous servant had been with her fifteen years before she'd left to get married, the minister's wife had emphasized.

As Mrs Ross had scanned the letter the minister had written Kirsty had hoped she would not ask her about her parents. City people, she had discovered, were mighty curious about such things but Mrs Ross appeared to be satisfied with the minister's recommendation. After scrutinising Kirsty for a moment or two she'd said, ‘D'you think you'd like to come and work for me?' Kirsty had nodded seriously. ‘You would?' Again Kirsty had nodded. ‘Have you not got a voice, Kirsty MacLennan? You'll need one if you're going to work for me.'

Kirsty had seen that the blue eyes were lit with teasing. ‘Yes, please,' she'd replied eagerly.

‘And have you got a good sense of humour – for that's something else you'll feel the need of here.'

Kirsty had smiled back at her. ‘I believe I might have,' she'd said demurely.

Mrs Ross had agreed to take her on a month's trial and, if she proved suitable, to train her as a cook-general. Grateful for the offer and relieved at the prospect of getting away from the repressive atmosphere of the Manse, Kirsty had set out to please her employer in every way she could and as a result, had been at
ISLAY
ever since. Under Mrs Ross' tuition she had soon become an excellent cook and in time had matured into a reliable and willing helpmate, even being trusted to look after
ISLAY
herself when her employer's presence was required elsewhere. The relationship between herself and Mrs Ross had soon developed into warm companionship despite the difference in age, and under the joint supervision
ISLAY
had prospered. Kirsty had come to regard the guest house as her much-loved home and was proud of its sound reputation as was her employer. The hours she worked were often demanding; her wages were relatively meagre but never at any time had she questioned her good fortune in having such congenial employment.

Thus for her, the years had passed as contentedly as she would have wished and since Mrs Ross had always staunchly maintained that she would continue to run
ISLAY
‘Until the Good Lord sees fit to take me' – and in the same breath would assure Kirsty that when the day came she would not want for a home, Kirsty had come to regard her position there as more or less a sinecure. Even bearing in mind that Mrs Ross was a good deal older than herself and that the signs of her increasing age were beginning to manifest themselves, Kirsty had reckoned that her own stamina and experience would ensure the continuation of
ISLAY
with scant need for Mrs Ross' presence, save as a kind of benign overseer. But there were years of life left in the old lady yet, she had told herself and had deferred considering any other future for herself.

There had been no hint of change even eighteen months previously, when Mrs Ross had returned after attending her brother-in-law's funeral. Because the old lady had disapproved of her sister's second husband she had never before visited their home, neither, to Kirsty's knowledge, had she ever expressed an interest in doing so. Now, however, she was keen to describe to Kirsty its comforts and conveniences. ‘Such a lovely little resort, quiet and a rare view of the sea,' she had enthused. ‘And no stairs to climb, Kirsty and no dust you'd notice even after a week. And there's a garden full of flowers and shrubs and space enough to put out a table and a couple of chairs if you've a mind for taking a cup of tea outside.'

Kirsty had listened with a suitable degree of interest. ‘You'll maybe be wanting to take a wee holiday there then when we're not busy,' she suggested.

‘Indeed, isn't that just what my sister was telling me I should do,' Mrs Ross had admitted. ‘Irene and I kind of lost touch with each other when her first husband died. He was a nice enough laddie but when she took up with this other fellow I had no time for him. I wouldn't have thought of going to see my sister while he was alive, but I daresay things could be different now.'

Kirsty allowed herself an enigmatic smile, recalling that on the rare occasions sister Irene and her undisciplined child Isabel had visited
ISLAY
Mrs Ross had found it as hard to conceal her displeasure at their behaviour as she had had to conceal her relief at their departure. Nevertheless, Kirsty had encouraged her employer to spend a holiday at her sister's home. Harmony between relatives was desirable, she believed, and anyway a couple of weeks' quietness and seaside air might do the old lady a power of good. She and Meggy, the new young servant, could cope well enough on their own.

Mrs Ross had enjoyed her holiday and, as Kirsty had hoped, had returned much invigorated by her spell away from the clamour of the city. The blow had come three months later after Mrs Ross had again visited her sister, but this time she had been absent only a few days. On her return she had been noticeably perturbed and Kirsty, suspecting that perhaps the relationship between the sisters had once more become a little less cordial, had diplomatically limited her enquires to the restorative effect of the visit. Her questions seemed to make the old lady evasive and Kirsty had begun to wonder if there had been a serious disagreement between the sisters. It had not been until two days after her return that Mrs Ross had enlightened Kirsty as to the cause of her evasiveness. They had been sitting in the kitchen, polishing the brassware, when Mrs Ross had admitted that she had been getting very tired of late and it had been worrying her enough to see the doctor. He'd told her she'd got high blood pressure and needed to take things easier.

In a distraught voice she'd continued, ‘It's going to be a terrible shock to you, Kirsty, and a terrible wrench for me to give up
ISLAY
but worst of all is going to be losing your companionship. You've been such a good friend to me since the day you first set foot here.'

Dabbing at her eyes she'd become aware of Kirsty's stunned expression and reaching across the table to squeeze Kirsty's hand she'd gone on, ‘Oh, I wish you could come with me but there isn't enough room in the bungalow. I've thought and thought about it all, wishing we could be together, but you know well enough that I'm old and much as I've always wished it I know I shan't be able to carry on at
ISLAY
even with you at my side to help me.'

Kirsty could only stare at her speechlessly. ‘Not that we shan't be able to see each other often,' the old lady had gone on to assure her fervently. ‘There's a good train service between here and my sister's place so you'd be able to come and see me on your day off, and I shall surely be coming to see how things are at
ISLAY
whenever I can. We'll not lose touch.'

‘You mean you are leaving
ISLAY?
' Kirsty had managed to echo faintly.

‘Yes, my dear.' Mrs Ross stifled a sob. ‘I couldn't say a word before it was all settled in case you'd worry yourself sick, but what's been arranged is for my sister's daughter, that's my niece, Isabel, you remember Isabel, don't you? A right naughty little madam she was when she was young, but of course she's grown up now and has got herself married, and she and her man have been thinking of looking for a guest-house so Isabel will have something to occupy her while Mac, her husband, is out at work.' Mrs Ross' mouth twitched derisively. ‘I don't reckon on Mac being up to much but it's Isabel who'll be running the place so that's no matter. You'll be here to see she does things right and,' her voice became earnest, ‘it's such a comfort to me to know that
ISLAY
is going to stay in the family so to speak.' She squeezed Kirsty's limp hand. ‘And you'll never want for a home, my dear, that's a condition of the lease,' she'd assured her, a note of triumph in her tone. ‘Mind you, I don't believe I would have had to make it a condition. Isabel knows fine how lucky she is that you'll be here to help run the place and see it keeps up its good reputation. After all, she's had no experience other than being an usherette in a cinema.'

Kirsty was appalled. Her mind seemed to have gone numb; her tongue had dried in her mouth and she had been unable to speak. Mrs Ross had looked at her anxiously. ‘You will stay and help, won't you, Kirsty?' she'd asked and had immediately answered her own question. ‘Surely you will –
ISLAY
's been your home almost as much as it's been mine.' Her tone became pleading. ‘I never doubted you'd want to stay on here. What would
ISLAY
be without you?'

Kirsty had tried not to show her despair. She'd managed to say in a choked voice, ‘I don't suppose I shall have much in the way of an alternative.'

‘But surely you've always been happy here at
ISLAY
haven't you, Kirsty? Haven't we both agreed that it's been grand the way the two of us have worked together all these years and never a cross word between us? I want for nothing more than that you should continue to be happy here.'

Kirsty had at last managed to clear her throat. ‘I've always been very happy here at
ISLAY
with you, you must know that well enough.' This time it was she who had reached out to squeeze her employer's hand. The touch let slip their emotions and for a few minutes there was a sobbing silence.

When Kirsty had regained control of her voice she'd said, ‘You ask what
ISLAY
will be without me, but
ISLAY
without you can never be the same again. You have been to me what I would have wanted a mother to be. I cannot see myself ever being happy here again.'

‘I pray to God that you will be,' the old lady had murmured. ‘And I just want you to believe that your position here will be as safe as
ISLAY
itself,' she'd continued feelingly. ‘You need have no fear about that. Even though she's my niece I've insisted the solicitor puts it into the lease. Isabel has to agree that you must be allowed to stay here on exactly the same terms as you've always been used to from me, for as long as you yourself wish to. The choice will be yours but I hope to God for
ISLAY
's sake you'll choose to stay.' And there the matter had rested.

After Mrs Ross had departed to live with her sister, Isabel and Mac had immediately installed themselves as the new proprietors of
ISLAY
. It had taken a very short time for Kirsty to discover that, unlike her easygoing aunt, Isabel was a captious, ill-tempered and penny-pinching woman who not only lacked the experience but hadn't the temperament to run a highly regarded guest-house such as
ISLAY
successfully. As for her husband, Mac, Kirsty relegated him to the lower class of boorish lout.

It had seemed to her extraordinary that Mrs Ross had allowed herself to be deluded into believing such a couple could be considered suitable to take over the running of the establishment which she herself had built up by hard work, and in which she had such pride, but there was no gainsaying that she had evidently been so deluded. How much had Isabel fawned on her aunt to obtain her consent to such an arrangement, Kirsty wondered. She was never to know. Six weeks after her retirement Mrs Ross had suffered a severe stroke which seemed to have virtually wiped out her memory and deprived her of the power of speech. Kirsty could only shrug her shoulders and reconcile herself to the sadness of change.

Throughout the months following their occupancy Kirsty had carried on trying as subtly as she could to counteract the many changes Isabel was keen to introduce but soon the evidence of
ISLAY
's deteriorating reputation as a good class guest-house was all too plain. Enquiries and bookings became steadily scarcer while complaints from guests became more frequent.

Kirsty had to face the wretchedness of knowing that her own position there was unlikely to be as secure as she had hitherto envisaged it to be. Not for a moment had she let herself believe that Isabel would be foolish enough to imagine she could cope without her, at least for some time anyway but her own need to steel herself to overlook the changed atmosphere – the penny-pinching on food, Isabel's archly dismissive manner to guests who dared to voice their complaints, her overbearing treatment of Meggy – and not least, her supercilious attitude towards Kirsty herself had alerted her to the limitations of her own endurance. Secretly she'd begun to cast around for other employment, but she was already thirty-nine years old and apart from being a good plain cook she had few other skills to offer in a city where women nearing forty were regarded as being of use only for scrubbing floors or for the scrap heap. Oh well, if the worst came to the worst, she could always scrub floors, she'd had to comfort herself. Until today …