was aware old Morag had never harmed a soul in her life and that was more than could be said about most.
She’d been on her way home from the post office when she’d spotted Morag ahead of her, bent over with a bag of shopping in each hand, and she’d caught up and offered assistance. And now that they’d reached the cottage it would have been churlish not to accept Morag’s invitation to come inside and have a cup of tea.
Morag removed her shawl and smiled gratefully. ‘Just put the bags down, Catriona, and make yourself comfortable while I go into the kitchen.’
She made herself at ease on a chair by the scrubbed pine table and looked around the tiny living room with mild curiosity. From the window you could see right across the harbour, empty now except for a few gulls waiting patiently on the sea wall for the arrival of a fishing boat. Towards the south the dark and jagged peaks of Skye were just visible above the hazy horizon.
As for the room itself, she found it faintly puzzling at first. It was clean, with everything polished to perfection, but it was so…so old-fashioned. It was like stepping into a time warp. That heavy wooden radio, for example. Casting her eye around, she saw that everything seemed to belong to the twenties or thirties.
Then she remembered the stories about Morag. It was said that she had come from one of the islands, sailing alone out of the morning mist into the harbour, a dark-haired, softly spoken girl of seventeen. She had fallen in love with a handsome young fisherman from the village and within a month they were married.
Then tragedy had struck. Two days after the wedding her new husband’s boat had been overwhelmed in a storm and all the crew had perished. Ever since that dreadful day she’d lived here by herself and it was said that she spent most of her time at the window staring out to sea awaiting the return of her lost love.
It was a story which always touched Catriona’s heart, but she’d often wondered… If Morag really did have the ‘gift’, why hadn’t she warned her husband not to sail that day? Then again, as some maintained, perhaps it had been the traumatic shock of losing him that had awakened the dormant power.
Once again she gazed around the room thoughtfully. Was this exactly how the place had looked when Morag had first set up her new home? Nothing added…nothing taken away…nothing changed from that day to this. Everything preserved and lovingly cared for. A shrine, in fact?
Suddenly she remembered something else. She’d been about eight years old at the time and a crowd of them had been playing down by the harbour. Jamie Reid had made a catapult and he was using the seagulls as target practice when Morag had descended on them.
‘Jamie Reid…’ she’d said in a soft, sorrowful voice. ‘Don’t you know that every seagull has the soul of a drowned sailor awaiting to be born again?’
It wasn’t the sort of thing eight-year-old kids thought about, but she’d never seen Jamie playing with that catapult again.
She stopped her reminiscing and got to her feet as Morag came through from the kitchen bearing a tray. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked politely.
Morag smiled. ‘You’ve helped enough as it is. I’m still not too old to look after a guest.’
She smiled back and watched in silence as Morag poured two cups of tea. The knuckles on the crooked hands looked swollen and arthritic and she wondered just how old Morag really was. She had to be seventy-five at least. Her face was wrinkled, and yet in spite of her apparent frailty you could feel the inner strength and vibrant energy of the woman.
‘Well, now…’ Morag said, lowering herself carefully into a chair opposite. ‘It’s a while since I’ve seen you, Catriona. You’re quite the young lady now. Twenty-one, isn’t it?’
‘Aye. A month ago.’
Morag nodded and smiled. ‘You always were a pretty girl, but you’re even prettier now that you’re a woman. You’ve the sky-blue eyes of your mother and the red hair of your father. A McNeil if ever I saw one. And how are they both keeping, these days?’
‘Och, they’re fine enough, Morag. Like everyone else up here they’re just waiting for the fishing to get better so that folk have a bit of money in their pockets.’
‘Aye…’ Morag sighed and looked towards the window. ‘Times are hard, right enough. I dare say they’ll be a bit upset at first when you tell them you’re leaving.’
Catriona’s cup stopped halfway to her mouth and she blinked in astonishment. She hadn’t confided to anyone about the feelings of frustration and restlessness which had been tormenting her for weeks now. In fact it was only this very morning, while she’d been waiting in the queue at the post office, that she’d finally made up her mind to leave Kindarroch and try her luck down south.
‘How…how did you know?’ she managed faintly.
Morag’s eyes twinkled. ‘We’ll just call it a guess. Anyone can see that a girl like you shouldn’t have to waste her time in a backwater like this, just hoping for the best. For the last ten years anyone with an ounce of ambition in them has gone south where the opportunities are.’
Catriona accepted the explanation. ‘I suppose you’re right. There’s no work to be had in Kindarroch, that’s for sure.’
‘And not much chance of a girl finding a husband either,’ Morag added innocently.
Once again Catriona was jolted by surprise, and she quickly covered her embarrassment with a self-conscious laugh. ‘I really haven’t been giving it that much thought.’
‘Haven’t you?’ Morag asked, regarding her with fond amusement. ‘Well, if you say so. But I’ve an idea there’s a rich and handsome young man out there just waiting to fall in love with a girl like you.’
Catriona smiled in embarrassment. ‘Away with you. You’re just teasing. Anyway, he wouldn’t have to be rich…or even that handsome. I’d settle for someone with a kind heart, nice teeth and a sense of humour.’
Morag gave a nod of approval. ‘Aye…I know you would. So where are you thinking of going?’
She’d been trying to make her mind up about that. ‘I’m not sure. Edinburgh or Glasgow, I suppose. They’re not so far away that I can’t come back and visit my folks any time I feel homesick.’
Morag shook her head. ‘You’ll find what you’re looking for in London, and you’ll be far too busy to feel homesick.’
‘London!’ Her blue eyes widened doubtfully. That was the south of England! Another planet as far as she was concerned. She was about to reject the idea out of hand when something made her pause. Morag had sounded so sure of herself.
‘Why London?’ she asked cautiously. ‘I don’t know a soul down there.’
Morag merely smiled. ‘Donald could give you a lift the next time he takes a load of fish to Inverness. There’s an overnight train from there that would get you to London the next morning.’
If Morag did know anything she was keeping it to herself, and Catriona still looked doubtful. ‘I…I don’t know… I’ve a bit of money saved up but I hear it’s a terribly expensive place to live.’
Morag closed her eyes for a moment, as if deep in thought, then she opened them and said with quiet confidence, ‘You’ll manage. I know you’ll have a hard time at first, but I’ve never met a McNeil yet who’s afraid of a challenge. Anyway, you’ll meet someone who’ll become a good friend. She’ll help you to find your feet.’
She didn’t much like the sound of the first bit and she frowned. ‘Excuse me, Morag. What exactly do you mean by a “hard time”?’
Morag leaned across the table and patted her hand affectionately. ‘I just mean that it’s never easy when you suddenly find yourself in a strange place…amongst people you don’t know.’ She glanced towards the window again, her eyes distant. ‘I remember how I felt when I first came here from