Chapter 14
It became a squally day, the wind driving the rain this way and that, straight at Taylor’s face, right down his ear.
It played havoc with the view, obliterating where sea met sky and causing entire hillsides to vanish.
Once the ferry had left, Taylor stood by the pier for a while watching the roll and ruck of the sea as he wondered what he was going to do and where he was going to go.
In Tarbert, everything was closed, it was Sunday.
He’d already returned the car – but as the office wasn’t open, he’d left the keys in the wall-mounted box.
Just lift the lid and pop them in when you leave, that’s what the guy had told them.
So Taylor went back to the box on the wall and he lifted the lid and retrieved the keys he’d recently returned and he got back in the car and off he drove.
It wasn’t a day for exploring, it was a day for being indoors; a day to coorie up with a book, a coffee and a peat fire.
So Taylor headed off in the stolen car and trespassed his way back into Flora’s House.
Dougie had said, hadn’t he, that he’d taken no more bookings in May as he needed to carry out some repairs, do a little redecorating, work on the garden, buy a new kettle.
And Taylor wondered, if I offer to help him perhaps he’ll let me stay.
Flora’s House was so quiet and it felt much larger without the mass and the chatter of the three of them.
Taylor went upstairs and made his bed and unpacked much of his rucksack.
The bathroom was pretty clean and there was an unused towel, plenty of toilet paper.
He saw that JB had left his cologne and he sniffed it and smiled.
JB would be bummed; he’d be wanting to smell his fragrant best for those girls in Edinburgh.
He thought of his friends on the ferry right now, enduring a rough crossing.
Poor Drew; those legs of his which could carry him so fast up and down mountains for miles and miles in any weather, were not sea legs.
At the bottom of the stairs, Taylor looked at the photograph of Flora, whose house this once was.
A young girl who now had true history, a personality, which infused the caught moment of the faded scene with meaning.
She felt known to Taylor now; her life had purpose, her life had been here, she was real.
She’d come to Harris all those decades ago at just sixteen years of age.
And years later, his own mother at that same age had left.
A sudden warmth coursed through him. As much as Harris had held so little for his mom, so too had it been a true home to another.
He understood how, in this very wide world, on a very small island, balance and reason could always be found.
He browsed the bookshelf for something to read.
There were a few novels alongside guidebooks and leaflets on the wildlife and local walks.
That huge bird he’d seen first thing this morning, that was a white-tailed sea eagle – Haliaeetus albicilla – known as a flying barn door on account of its wingspan, a native species extinct in Scotland by the early twentieth century but now in abundance after a successful programme of reintroduction.
‘Interesting,’ said Taylor into the silence.
Also on the shelf he came across a blue leather book with nothing written on its spine.
He pulled it out. VISITORS’ BOOK. Well, it was a good job he had returned – how could they have spent such a special time here and not written a note of thanks?
He took the book to the armchair and settled in, the tweed throw warm and comforting against his back.
Visitors had come from all over the world and it surprised him until he laughed at himself and considered how the little cottage had just harboured three young guys from Oregon, Missouri and Colorado.
As he read through the entries, he toyed over what he might write.
And Taylor wondered what would Flora have made of all these folk from far and wide visiting her wee white house? He glanced over at the photograph.
‘May I stay here a little longer?’ he asked her.
In the Visitors’ Book, there were some entries that were a little rude, ridiculous, complaining about poor internet or insufficient TV channels, no food processor in the kitchen, no tub in the bathroom.
‘So stay in a hotel, losers!’
Georgia and Elliot from Hertfordshire had left the day before Taylor, Drew and JB had arrived.
Our fourth trip, they wrote. As delightful as ever – heartfelt thanks to Dougie and Nell for this slice of paradise. See you in July!
What could Taylor write that could truly express how special this week had been?
He tapped the pen against his teeth. Drew’s voice was loud and clear in his head: you should set your novel here.
He wasn’t going to be much of a novelist if he couldn’t form two or three simple sentences to sum up their experience.
He read Georgia and Elliot’s words again.
And Dan and Cathy Lubman’s entry before theirs.
They had come all the way from Melbourne, Australia.
Taylor needed to say what he felt, to speak on behalf of the three of them. He’d have to start a new page though. This Georgia person had filled it right to the edge with little doodles.
He turned the page. Only, the page wasn’t blank. An entry had already been written and it was in JB’s unmistakable style: big, bold, round letters with the occasional flourish and excitable squiggle. Taylor could hear his handwriting and it made him grin.
Over the kitchen table, Taylor spread a large and detailed map of Harris. He traced his finger along this road and that route, making notes on a pad of paper.
‘Where are you where are you where are you? Oh wow – you are all the way over there!’
Rhenigidale.
Outside, the rain had stopped and weak sunshine was glossing the land.
Taylor wondered if Taransay had come back into view because the entire island had completely disappeared earlier.
In a little while he’d take a walk and check.
Later on, he’d go down the lane to Dougie’s house, offer his services, ask if it was okay for him to stay.
First thing tomorrow, he’d phone the car hire company and extend the lease.
He planned on going on a short run too; it would be good for him.
He went over to the kitchenette and opened the fridge; it was empty. The cupboards were empty too, just sugar, coffee and a little rice. But that was okay because he’d had a big breakfast. And tomorrow he planned to drive to the store in Leverburgh, to see what they had there.