The trip to Iona started well for Anna when Alina announced she had a slight cold and preferred to stay behind rather than expose herself to chilly winds on the sea, or on the island.
Anna was glad she would have uninterrupted time to get to know Lawren better and to share her feelings and information about Helen without her friend’s skeptical gaze.
Anna had looked out of the bedroom window as soon as she woke up and was almost sure that the white mist she saw in the valley promised a fine day rather than a wet one.
She told Alina to stay in bed until the afternoon and then she made a picnic of chicken sandwiches, pickles, beetroot salad and cookies to be washed down with cans of ginger ale. When the food was packed in a cooler bag, inside a carry-all, together with an assortment of hats, gloves and a light-weight raincoat, just in case, she tiptoed over to the lounge door and knocked quietly to waken Lawren.
After two attempts, she peeked inside the lounge and found Morag curled up on the bed but no Lawren.
“This is getting to be a habit,” she declared, as she glanced at the kitchen clock and calculated how much time she had to find Lawren and get ready for the drive to the boat pier.
She found him, cradling a cup of coffee and watching sheep, in the field across the stream on the edge of the property.
“I can’t sleep late,” he explained. “It’s not just jet lag. I usually work at night and my hours are reversed since I arrived here.”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll sort something out. After today your hours will be free, but for now we need to get to the pier. The first boat leaves early.”
Thanks to some speedy driving by the increasingly-useful Grant, they boarded the boat just as the gangway was about to be hoisted off the pier.
“That was exciting!” gasped Anna, but her words were blown away on the wind as the ferry got underway and forged out into the channel between the inner isle of Kerrera and the mainland. Lawren watched Oban rise out of the mist then suggested they stay on the top deck to see the views. He did not want to miss anything on this trip. Anna tied a headscarf around her hair, buttoned up her jacket, pulled on gloves and followed him, somewhat reluctantly, staying as much as possible in the shelter of the enclosed, upper-deck seating area.
Lawren did not seem to feel the icy wind fraught with a burden of moisture from the bow wave. He stood with head bare and long hair tossing all over his face. His only concession to the weather was to pull up the collar on his leather jacket and stick his hands in the pockets.
Anna watched his face. He was like a young boy let loose from school for a day’s adventure. His head swung from side to side as he attempted to take in every iota of the experience, from seagulls fighting the wind to stay with the ship in case someone threw a crust into the air, to the rugged coast of Mull approaching on their port side and the green depths of the sea in between.
It was only after he noticed that he was alone on the top deck that he returned to Anna and apologized.
“I didn’t mean to freeze you up here. It’s so refreshing, I can hardly bear to go inside. The air tastes like salt on my tongue. Do you mind?”
“Not at all! Stay here if you want. It’s not a long journey. We’ll be landing on Mull at Craignure, so it says here.” She waved the guide book she had found on board. “And then we go by bus the length of the island of Mull. When we get to the very tip at Fionnphort it’s a short boat ride to Iona. We do it all in reverse on the way back to Oban.”
The seating area was steamy after the chill air outside. Anna slipped off her jacket and sat near a window where she could watch Lawren again. It was obvious to her that he was different from any man she had known before. Somehow, he had managed to retain that childlike sense of wonder that usually escapes us as adults. Perhaps it is part of his creative nature, she thought. He was much more unguarded here than he appeared to be in London. It made him seem younger and once again she cautioned herself not to get attached to someone so much younger than herself. And yet, she was feeling things for this artistic person that were both unexpected, and deeper, than she could have imagined.
It’s just that holiday feeling, she told herself. Everyone acts more freely when they are away from the drudgery of daily life.
Lawren was just as enthused by the land journey as he was on the ferry. The Isle of Mull provided everything a traveller to Scotland could want. They rocked along a narrow road that obliged cars to back up to the nearest scooped-out passing place whenever they encountered the bus. A few nerve-wracking moments occurred as they scraped past, but, as no one else on the bus seemed to find this in the least worrisome, Anna returned to watching the scenery. They travelled through Glen More for most of the way and saw mountains towering nearby with loch, rivers and waterfalls galore.
When they began to emerge from the glen and follow a coast road again, Anna enquired of a passenger how long it would take to get to the port.
“Ach, lass, it’s no lang noo. Aboot a half-hour, I’m thinking.”
She thanked him and translated for Lawren who had been reading the guide book to identify the mountains, although pronouncing the gaelic names was beyond his, or Anna’s, capabilities. Both of them consulted the guide book so they would be primed to see everything possible while on Iona.
From Fionnphort they could clearly see Iona and it took only minutes on the small ferry to pull into the jetty and unload the passengers who scattered in a rush of feet, small and large, to see the sights, eat, shop or meet friends and family.
Lawren and Anna were left alone on the dock.
“Right, Mr. Drake! What would you like to see first? I know there’s a fabulous bay on the other side of the island but it’s your choice.”
“I want to visit Saint Columba’s Abbey first, if you please. It’s such an ancient building, revered for centuries, and I think I can see it over there.”
“Good choice!” said Anna. “Most of the passengers have wandered off now. We might be lucky enough to get the place to ourselves.”
As she had hoped earlier in the day, the skies had cleared while they crossed Mull and a bright sun accompanied them on the walk through the tiny town to the Abbey. It was great to get moving and breathe the clear air. Anna explained how she had tracked down pictures to tell her Helen had come here with a friend. Lawren was impressed and asked how she had found out all she knew about a woman she had never met.
“Well, I didn’t do it without a lot of help. George McLennan was the one who first discovered Helen’s tragic early life, then later he uncovered the information about her sad marriage which was the source of her finances.”
“You have told me something about that, Anna, but I suspect there’s a lot more to the story. I don’t need to know all the details. It’s enough that you cared so deeply for this lonely woman and you want the portrait to be a tribute to her.”
“She died without any family around her but she put in place a plan to benefit me, a relative she would never see, and that action simply transformed my life.”
Lawren turned to see a gleam of tears in his companion’s eyes. He reached down to take the bag she was carrying and said softly, “We’ll make sure she would be proud of the finished product, I promise you.” The squeeze of his strong fingers did more to assure Anna of his sincerity than even his words could do.
They approached the Abbey along the street of small houses that Lawren said were reminiscent of the colourful, clapboard homes in Newfoundland. He was amazed to clamber over uneven grassy knolls to reach the first of the warm-toned stone buildings in the Abbey complex.
“In Canada, or the United States for that matter, this area would be ringed with fencing and criss-crossed by concrete paths with warning signs everywhere to prevent accidents. This is so much better and the natural grassy surroundings suit the age of the buildings so much better. You can immediately feel a sense of undisturbed peace here. It’s remarkable!”
Anna had to agree. Whether it was the lack of tourists milling around, or the location removed from the town but close to the sea, she, too, felt an unaccustomed peace descend on her. Even the ever-present wind had died down in the shelter of these ancient walls and the sun warmed more than their faces.
Without consulting each other, they took off on their own pilgrimage route in and out of the Abbey church and cloisters, St. Columba’s Shrine and the Infirmary Museum where Anna saw a collection of ancient, Christian, carved stones that she was sure Lawren would find interesting.
Finally, she stood quietly by a magnificent celtic cross for a time, tracing the symbolism of the circles. When she turned around, she realized she had lost track of Lawren completely.
She found him standing alone, with a sketch pad in his hands and facing an inscription on the fence of the abbey graveyard.
In this sacred place are the burials of many early Scottish kings and chiefs, as well as kings from Ireland.
“Anna, can you imagine the ceremonies that must have taken place here over many centuries and now there is nothing to be seen but lumps and bumps in the turf?”
“Yes, it’s sad all right, but it makes me remember that glory fades, life is short, and we should not waste a moment.”
Lawren snapped to attention as if released from a spell. “So, so true! Where do we go next?”
Anna had spotted a sign outside a store on the walk to the abbey grounds. She led them back there and Lawren was delighted to see bicycles for hire.
“Perfect!” he exclaimed. “Let’s cycle to that bay you talked about.”
Anna was not so sure she could keep up with someone whose usual means of transport was a bicycle, but when Lawren found a model for himself with a basket to hold her picnic bag she decided to take the chance and follow Lawren’s lead, after she had insisted on further reading of the island map.
The track to Martyr’s Bay cut across the centre of Iona and was simple to find. They passed fenced farmland but were not bothered by cars as the track was not suitable for heavy vehicles.
Anna missed most of the scenery. Her attention was focused on the space ahead of her front wheels. Avoiding ruts was her main concern although Lawren frequently tried to distract her by shouting out about features she should see to either side of them.
When they reached the beach, it was all the more surprising to Anna. There were grass-covered dunes in places and placid brown cattle seemed to be wandering free, sampling the tall grasses there. The sand was white rather than golden and the sea was a clear aquamarine with greenish boulders scattered here and there at the water’s edge. The entire scene was irresistible.
They dropped the hire bikes onto a dune and ran forward over the fine sand to inspect the boulders.
“I thought they might be covered with algae,” declared Lawren, “but they are an exquisite shade of green and look at the red streaks running through them! I have to have a sample to take back with me.”
A search ensued for a portable rock. This entailed walking along the shore with heads down. It was harder to spot the green stones as, once they were dry, the colour was much muted.
Eventually, Anna found a chunk the perfect size for a souvenir. She handed it to Lawren and continued to look for one for herself.
Along the bay, she found something she had not expected. A rock formation set back from the water’s edge, caught her eye. Immediately she was sure this was the place where Helen and Mrs. Aitken had their picture taken on that long-ago trip together.
“Let’s have our picnic here,” she called to Lawren. “I am starving after all this exercise!”
Fresh-air picnics always taste better and Anna’s was no exception to the rule. No conversation interrupted their munching and soon there was little left to store in the bag for the return trip.
“That was inspired, Anna!” stated Lawren with a contented sigh. “This is another extraordinary location. What’s its name again?”
Anna wiped crumbs from her mouth and consulted the guide book.
“It seems to have two names. Martyr’s Bay is the historical one but I like the other; The Bay at the Back of the Ocean.”
“Absolutely right on!” was her companion’s opinion. “Now if I only knew the species of this green rock I am carrying, the day would be perfect.”
“I think I can help you, there,” said Anna, with a smug tone in her voice. “It’s called Iona marble, and can only be found here, or nearby. The guide book says items of jewellery are made from the polished marble.”
“Now that you mention it, I think I saw some of that in the Abbey gift shop.”
Anna had not found a shop in her wanderings around the Abbey and she wished she had explored further. Iona marble would make an unusual gift for her friends in Canada.
They remained by the rock, basking in the sun, replete with sun, air and satisfactory food. Anna’s eyes were closed as she enjoyed the sun on her face while, unbeknown to her, Lawren sketched her in his notebook.
“Tell me why you are not wearing a wedding ring, Anna, but don’t open your eyes yet.”
Anna was in that sleepy state where confidences seem natural and Lawren’s unexpected question helped her to bring some once-painful memories to the fore.
“I was married but it didn’t work out. He died recently and I have closed the book on that episode of my life. I am much happier now. It was Helen Dunlop’s intervention that shook me out of the depression that had lingered on after the divorce, and my Samba friends who helped, of course.”
“You are lucky to have a close group of friends. Men find that much harder, especially the arty types I know. They are all terrified to show weakness in case it affects their reputation as elite artists. It can be lonely to belong to that group, believe me.”
Anna found it hard to keep her eyes closed, as instructed, but she could imagine the expression on Lawren’s face from the sound of his voice.
“Have you had occasions when you needed support?”
“Doesn’t everyone at some time or another?” He hesitated, then decided to match Anna’s honesty with some of his own.
“I was engaged to a beautiful girl once. I loved the very bones of her and planned to spend the rest of my life telling her so, but it was not to be. There was never another to compare with her.”
Anna was shocked at the emotion these brief statements revealed. She longed to open her eyes and look at him but she suspected this action would end the confidences.
“What happened?” she asked softly.
“An old, old story, I’m afraid. She found someone she loved more. The problem was it was my best friend she chose, so I lost two incredible people from my life in one dire event.”
“That must have been horrible for you, Lawren.”
“True, but it’s finished with now and so is this sketch. You can open your eyes, pretty lady.”
She opened them, turned her head to avoid the glare of the sun and leaned forward, all in the same motion so she could grab for the sketch pad and see the sketch for which she had not given permission.
Lawren just laughed and relinquished the drawing to her.
Anna saw a relaxed face with upturned chin and an expression of watchfulness. One again Lawren had captured something she recognized but seldom saw for herself. She always felt self-conscious when she knew a picture was being taken. By asking her to keep her eyes closed, he had seen the true face that was hidden from others.
“You are a remarkable artist,” she stated, “but very tricky. I won’t let you away with that ruse again!”
“We’ll see! I have many tricks up my sleeve.”
They rose and stretched, brushing sand off their clothes. Anna looked at her watch and told Lawren to run for the bikes. The Iona ferry would be leaving in thirty minutes from the pier and they had to return the bikes first.
They dashed away and did not speak until they boarded the ferry. Despite cycling faster than she ever had before, Anna heard a refrain that ran through her brain in time to the sound of the pedals turning.
“Pretty lady, pretty lady, pretty lady, pretty lady.”
How long had it been since she had heard those words?