♫
We went to the Isles Inn. It was a pub with hotel rooms upstairs. Granpa said that’s what made it an inn. There was a pool table up the back. I liked the sound of the balls clicking and clacking together. It was pool, but I liked the word snooker better. The balls snooked off each other. Snook snook snook.
Iain went up and put a 50p on the edge of the pool table.
‘We’re next,’ he said, to the men who were playing.
That was the rule. If you wanted to play next, you put 50p on the table. I thought about hiding the 50p for a laugh, but oh no, they took it quite seriously.
Granpa and Iain had a pint of beer each. It looked nice and foamy, but I knew how horrible it tasted and I was happy with my cola. The cola came out of this little juice gun. The lady behind the bar fired it into a glass. Lemonade was coming out of it one second, then she pressed a different button and it was cola. I would definitely buy one of those juice guns when I had money of my own. It would go perfect in the pink house kitchen.
Granpa and Iain were good at pool. They were doing all the things I’d seen proper players on the telly do. Crouching down to look at the balls from my height, putting the blue stuff on top of their cues, pushing and pulling the cue back and forwards loads of times before they actually did the shot. They knew all the fancy pool words too. Screwback was a funny one. Then they were talking about the balls kissing each other which made me laugh.
‘Och, you’ve snookered me, Arthur,’ Iain said. ‘You didn’t even mean that.’
‘Is it not pooled?’ I said. ‘He’s pooled you?’
‘Ye just say snooker, anyway,’ Granpa said. ‘Wheesht while we’re playing.’
Iain won and they shook hands and said, “well played” and “good game”. Like in tennis, only they weren’t doing it over a net.
The lady behind the bar called out, “Watson, table of three” and that was the sign for us to get our lunch.
‘Nothing wrong with her,’ Iain said. He nodded to the lady behind the bar and winked at Granpa. He smiled and shook his head like Iain was being silly. The lady was really pretty and Iain was right, there was nothing wrong with her.
I was eating my fish fingers when I noticed a girl waving at me from across the dining area. I waved back. She had a bright yellow top on to match her bright blonde hair. Her hair was curly, but good curly. She was having fish fingers too, so we had something in common. She was pointing at her plate and smiling. I smiled back and lifted up mine.
‘What are ye doing?’ said Granpa. ‘Get yer plate doon.’
‘But that girl over there-’
‘I dinnae care aboot that girl over there, Mary. Sit and eat nice.’
‘That’s Kevin MacLeod’s girl,’ Iain said. ‘Grace.’
Iain knew the names of loads of people in Portree.
‘Like saying grace at the table?’ I said.
‘Just like that. Do you and your Granpa say grace?’
‘Naw. That’s just on telly in America. It’s not fair to thank God for food when really it’s Granpa who bought it for me.’
‘So what’s she’s saying is,’ Granpa said. ‘I’m God.’
I put my plate down, but kept looking over at Grace when I could. She was with a lady who I guessed was her mum. Her mum had blonde hair too. I had already made an enemy of that boy Lewis, so I needed to make a friend as soon as I could. Grace looked older than me, but not a lot. I guessed she was nine or ten and probably going into Primary 6.
I thought that if Portree was like Stirling, then the older girls wouldn’t want to hang around with girls in lower years like me. I would need to make sure Grace knew I was good to hang around with and not like a little baby. I was extra careful with my knife and fork and didn’t make any screechy sounds on the plate. I even ate some peas.
After lunch, Granpa and Iain went back to playing pool. Granpa looked really happy. I was quite bored watching them after a while. They always played one more game because whoever lost didn’t want to be the last loser which meant there was always a rematch.
‘Will there ever be a final winner?’ I asked. ‘Like a champion?’
‘It’s unlikely,’ Iain said. ‘We’re too competitive. Whichever one of us dies first, the other will be champion.’
It would never end. I thought it would be much better to come up with a way of choosing a winner and that would be that. They could move on to a new sport like tennis and find out who was the best at that. But they’d never be better than Andy Murray. You didn’t get many Scottish people who were best in the world at something but Andy was special. Granpa had taken me through to Dunblane when he got married to Kim. It was rainy that day and her dress wasn’t as nice as Princess Kate’s, but it was great to see Andy in real-life.
Grace and her mum got up from their table. Her mum went out the door, but Grace came over and sat in the chair next to me.
‘Hiya,’ she said.
‘Hiya. I’m Mary.’
‘I’m Grace.’
‘Do you live in Portree?’
‘Aye. I know that man,’ and she pointed at Iain. ‘But I’ve not seen you or that man before.’
‘That’s my granpa. We’re here for the summer on holiday.’
‘That’s good. Where are you from?’
‘Stirling.’
‘Is that near Glasgow?’
‘Sort of.’
‘I’m ten, what age are you?’
I guessed right. There was a year and a quarter between us and I’d need to work extra hard.
‘Eight and three quarters.’
‘I can show you the best places to go if you want.’
‘Aye, please.’
‘Mostly we just go to the Lump.’
‘The Lump, what’s that?’
‘It’s just a hill. But it’s good. I’ll show you.’
‘Great. Give me two seconds.’
I went up to Granpa and put my hands together so he’d see I was praying.
‘Granpa, can I go with Grace for a little while? Please? She’s ten.’
There was a much bigger chance of Granpa letting me go with Grace, once he knew how much older she was. She could take care of the both of us. I didn’t notice Grace coming up behind me.
‘Hiya,’ said Grace. ‘My mum says it’s okay.’
‘Does she now?’ said Granpa. ‘What d’ye think, Iain?’
‘She’ll be fine with Grace,’ Iain said. ‘Now hurry up, it’s your shot.’
‘Back here, no later than three,’ Granpa said.
Grace and me ran out of the pub. I was faster than her and I had to slow down to let her lead the way.
Portree was only a wee village, but a lot of cars came from all directions so crossing the road could take a while. But then the driver might give a little wave and you were fine to cross in front of them.
The Lump was the hill behind the harbour. If you saw a picture of the harbour houses from faraway, up the back you’d see a hill with trees on it. That was the Lump. On the way up the hill, there was a Royal Bank of Scotland, then an old building which had a sign saying Gathering Hall, then a church, then at the top of the road was the Portree Hospital.
‘Why’s it called the Lump?’ I asked.
‘It just is,’ Grace said. ‘My brother says it’s because it’s a little dump, and when you put those two words together it makes lump. But it’s not a dump at all. That’s him just being stupid.’
It looked like we were going to the hospital, but then Grace turned left just before it and took me up a gravel path. There were signs telling you all the things you were to do and not to do.
DANGER!
Keep to footpath & steps
Beware of falling rocks
Do not climb or sit on fence
Do not climb trees
Do not climb rock face
‘Are there really falling rocks?’ I said.
‘I’ve never seen any,’ Grace said.
Grace hadn’t seen any, but I was going to be on the lookout anyway because I really didn’t want to be hit by a big rock. But then the hospital was right next door. I’d probably survive.
Grace took us off the main path and to the left, up some steps which were quite tricky to climb. There were wooden bits at the front of the steps so you could see where the steps started and ended. Whoever made the steps didn’t have enough money to use cement.
‘Aw no, I can hear Thomas,’ Grace said. ‘That’s my brother.’
At the top of the steps, was a tower. It was like part of a castle except with no castle under it, just the tower. A cylinder of old brick with moss growing all over. There was a boy at the top of the tower leaning over the side.
‘Grace the disgrace!’ he shouted down. ‘Who’s that with you?’
‘Come down and I’ll tell you,’ Grace said.
‘You just want up here, don’t you?’
‘Are you here yourself?’
‘James was here, but he had to go home. Is Mum at the house?’
‘Yes, she says you left your plate on the living room table again.’
‘No chance, that was Dad’s plate. He always blames it on me.’
His head disappeared from the top of the tower and as he made his way down, it sounded a bit like thunder, with his feet clobbering the stairs. Then, quick as a flash, he was at the door of the tower. There wasn’t actually a door, it was only a doorway.
‘What’s your name?’ he said.
‘Mary. I’m here on holiday.’
‘I’m Tom. Grace is stinking isn’t she, Mary?’
‘Shut up, Thomas,’ Grace said. ‘No one calls him Tom, Mary. It’s to be Thomas. Mum and Dad don’t like people calling him Tom.’
‘Shut up, Grace, I can be called what I want. Everyone at school calls me Tom.’
‘Like who?’
‘James and Lewis and Billy and Stuart-’
‘Stuart’s at the high school. You’re not friends with anyone at the high school.’
‘How much d’you want to bet? Just because you don’t have any friends.’
‘I’ve got a friend standing right next to me, idiot.’
‘Oh, well done,’ he said. ‘One friend. Do you want to be friends with me instead of her, Mary?’
‘Can’t we all be friends, Tom?’ I said.
I made sure to say Tom, so he wouldn’t be annoyed at me like he was at Grace.
‘I suppose we can all hang about,’ Grace said. ‘But we’re brother and sister so we can’t be friends.’
That made sense. Grace and Tom couldn’t be friends because they were already brother and sister. They couldn’t be more than one thing.
‘Come on, let Mary go up the top,’ Grace said.
Tom put his hands across the doorway to stop me, but then took them away because he was only joking. He had brown hair and Grace had blonde hair. Maybe Grace had got her hair from their mum and their dad must’ve had brown hair like Tom. Alex Sinclair in the year below me at school had ginger hair even though both his parents had brown hair. Everyone said he was adopted.
‘What age are you, Mary?’ Tom said.
‘My Granpa says it’s not right to ask a lady her age,’ I said.
‘But you’re a girl, not a lady.’
I hadn’t thought of that before.
‘I’m eight and three quarters.’
‘I’m eight too. If you stay longer in Portree, you could be in my class next year.’
‘I’m only here for the summer. I have my own school at home.’
He looked a bit disappointed at that. I was glad he wanted me to stay around though.
I went through the doorway and it wasn’t as nice as I thought it would be. There were puddles and glass bottles had been left on the ground, or smashed, and the jaggy pieces were lying around. One label said, Lambrini, and I had never heard of that drink. There was a fousty smell and I didn’t understand why Grace liked it so much. She came in behind me.
‘It’s better up the top,’ she said.
I ran up the stairs. Not super-fast though, because the stairs were still wet and slippy. Everywhere on the walls, people had put their names on the bricks. Like scraping their initials or love hearts into them. NOEL + LERNER ‘15. If 15 meant 2015, that must’ve happened not long before I got to Portree. LIFE AINT NUTTIN BUT A THUG. That sounded American because it was like what a rapper would say and didn’t make any sense.
‘How do they get their names on like that?’ I said to Grace.
‘You need something sharp. Thomas has a screwdriver he uses.’
The top of the tower was fantastic. I could see for ages in the distance. Over the tops of the harbour houses and boats in the distance you couldn’t see from down below. I could see the water till it touched the sky. And all the houses, every single one in Portree, I could see them. I was higher than anyone else for miles. I forgot all about Grace being there behind me. I ignored Tom who was making faces at us from down below. All I could see was Portree and the rest of Skye further away.
I was the Queen of Skye, standing at the top of her tower. I owned everything, especially the pink house. I was sort of like Mary, Queen of Scots. Except I didn’t get my head chopped off while my dog was under my dress. I didn’t even have a dog.
I came back to the real world when I heard the voices. A big group of people coming up the same path Grace and me had taken to the tower. There was a lady at the front leading them about, pointing at things and talking about them. She pointed to the tower and all the people waved at us. Me and Grace waved back.
‘What’s happening?’ I said to Grace.
‘That’s Michelle. She does walking tours. She takes the tourists round Portree and tells them the history of the village.’
‘That sounds good.’
‘You have to pay for it. I’ll show you about for free.’
That was a much better deal.
‘The tower’s proper name is the Apothecary Tower,’ Grace told me. ‘They used to keep medicine in here.’
The tour lady led her group through the trees and round the corner, till I couldn’t hear her anymore. All I could hear was the sea swishing and the wind rushing. I couldn’t even hear Tom because he’d disappeared.
‘I’m going to find him,’ Grace said. ‘Sometimes, he tries to jump on to the Gathering hall roof. Mum says I’m to make sure he doesn’t. I’ll be back in a minute.’
She went back down the tower’s steps and walked the path into the same trees the walking tour disappeared into. I wanted to tell her to stay. I wanted to tell her I wasn’t allowed out by myself. But I couldn’t. She was ten and she never would’ve been friends with me again.
A man came running up the hill. He was dressed in normal clothes, so I knew he wasn’t a jogger. He stopped to catch his breath below the tower.
‘Hiya,’ I said.
He got such a fright. He put his hand on his heart.
‘Och, Jesus,’ he said. ‘What a scare you gave me. Awright there.’
‘Are you chasing someone?’
‘Kind of,’ he said, taking big long breaths. ‘I was doing a walking tour and I lost the rest of the group.’
‘They went that way,’ I said, pointing into the trees. ‘Not that long ago.’
He gave me the thumbs up, but he was still crouched over because of all the running. It wasn’t that big a hill, but he was holding his sides like he had a massive stitch. He had long curly brown hair; the sweat had made it stick flat to his head. I thought he would’ve been quite good looking with a short back and sides like Granpa. He was carrying a clipboard, but I couldn’t see if it had a pencil attached with a bit of string.
‘I’m Mary. What’s your name?’
‘Em, Craig.’
He was so tired he’d forgotten his name for a second.
‘Do you live here?’ I said.
‘Naw, I’m visiting a friend. But I need to find him first.’
He laughed to himself at that, but I didn’t get the joke.
‘But since I came all this way,’ he said. ‘I thought I’d be a tourist for an hour.’
‘Do you know any fun things to do? I’m looking for tourist stuff too.’
‘Naw, sorry. I’ll mainly be working on a special project while I’m here, Mary. It’s only for grown-ups though. I won’t bore you with it.’
He stood up straight.
‘Right, just around this corner you said? I’ll catch you around, Mary.’
He zoomed round the corner.
‘Bye, Craig!’ I shouted.
Grace came back a little while later. I had stayed put at the top of the tower and that’s where she found me.
‘I couldn’t find Thomas anywhere,’ she said. ‘He must’ve gone home. Hope you weren’t too bored.’
‘It’s fine,’ I said. ‘I pretended I was queen of the castle.’
‘I do that too,’ she said.
We both laughed. In the real world, you didn’t get two queens of the same place, but we could do whatever we wanted in our tower.