As soon as George’s scanned photographs arrived, Anna sat down to examine them closely.
If she was to find any clues about Helen Dunlop’s appearance, these pictures would need to be of superior quality to the ones she had found in the nursing home where Helen had spent her final months.
Cautioning herself not to be too disappointed with the copies, since the originals could only be an improvement, she picked up the first of several pages from her printer and began to try to reconstruct a piece of Helen’s life while she had lived in Oban. George had thoughtfully numbered the photos and he had also been helpful enough to place them in groups so that several snaps gave a better sense of the location and events.
The first of these groups showed a familiar scene. Fiona had once taken Anna to McCaig’s Folly above the town to hear a pipe band practise. The stone arches in the background were unmistakable and Anna could almost hear the stirring sounds of the bagpipes and drums. Flipping through the band photos, she searched for a figure and found only sturdy Mrs. Aitken wearing a hat with a fancy feather at the side.
If Helen was the photographer, she thought, there might not be any pictures other than those of her companion. Then she realized that George would not have forwarded the photos if Helen’s image had not appeared somewhere.
Resisting the temptation to shuffle through the pages and quickly pick out Helen, Anna resumed the search in a deliberate manner. The next scene brought a sigh of pure pleasure as Anna recognized the view from the top of the hill behind Helen’s estate house. She could see the roof of the house at the foot of the hill and wondered at Mrs. Aitken’s agility. She knew only too well that the climb was quite steep. One of the set of photographs confirmed that the secretary had made it to the top as it showed her reaching the summit with a relieved look on her flushed face.
But where was Helen? Just as she was thinking Helen was again deliberately trying to conceal her identity, Anna spotted a figure sitting on the same rock where Anna had rested on her first venture up the hill.
Of course, Helen was farther from the camera and it looked like she had turned away at the last minute, but it was definitely not Mrs. Aitken this time.
Anna examined the figure for any clue at all. It was hard to tell how tall Helen might be but her posture indicated a straight back. She was wearing a dark green coat with a brown corduroy collar of a type popular in Scotland. Anna had seen this coat hanging on a hook in the barn and thought it was the same coat she had grabbed when she wanted to capture the tiny kitten Sylvester.
Now that she knew Helen had worn this coat, she wondered if anything personal had been left in the pockets. Making a mental note to examine any clothing left in the barn on her next trip to Oban, Anna returned to her inspection of the photograph. Helen’s head was covered by a brimmed hat so neither hair nor features could be made out at this distance.
Feeling frustrated, Anna put the picture aside and looked at the next set.
Immediately, it was clear that it was summer and an outing on a boat. The first and second photographs showed Mrs. Aitken clutching her hat as the wind blew her hair around her smiling face. Anna quickly rejected this one, hoping to find a similar pose with Helen in close up.
To her relief there was such a picture on the next page. Fortunately, it was taken on land and Helen was standing next to an ancient building that could have been a very old church.
At last, Anna could see the features of the woman whose legacy had caused such changes in her life.
At first glance, Anna was shocked. She thought she was looking at her own mother in her later years and her mind rushed back to the months before her mother had died and Anna had looked after her. She saw the same thick white hair that always had a life of its own despite every attempt to make it lie smoothly. But it was the features that gave her heart a jolt.
The look in the eyes was more wary and the nose seemed longer, yet the overall appearance was so much like her own mother that Anna found herself unexpectedly in tears.
Suddenly, the unknown Helen, the mystery figure whose identity had taunted Anna, was revealed unmistakably as a member of her own family. No stranger any more, but a woman whose connection to Anna was firmly established.
A wave of emotion brought more tears to her eyes. She longed to be transported to the house in Oban so she could examine each and every element of the place in the new light this photograph had revealed. It was no longer possible to think of Helen Dunlop objectively; to ponder her sad and lonely life as if that of a character in a novel. Now Helen was real to Anna in a new and powerful way. Every item in the Oban house, from the china in the kitchen to the wallpaper in the bedroom was imbued with meaning because Helen, who had chosen them, felt so much closer to Anna.
Through her tears, she spread the rest of the pages out in front of her and searched them for any further details, no matter how tiny, that would bring Helen even more alive to her.
There was one photograph in the same set which showed a glimpse of a map in Helen’s hand.
Anna rushed to fetch a magnifying glass Alina had bought for close work.
Now she could just make out tiny letters on the map that had been underlined in pencil, and an arrow pointing toward another location nearby. She quickly copied down the letters she could make out and soon composed a word she recognized. Iona. The map was of the sacred island close to the mainland which was on Anna’s list of places in Scotland she must see.
So Helen and Mrs. Aitken had taken a boat trip to Iona. The other picture of the church must be of the ancient Abbey of St. Columba.
A little more detective work on the map pointed to the location of the next pictures in the set. Anna guessed that the ladies had prevailed upon a passerby to take a picture of both of them seated on the sand with a seascape behind them.
This must be The Bay at the Back of the Ocean; the place the penciled arrow on the map had indicated. What an incredible name, she thought! Again Anna felt the urge to visit these places just because Helen had been there.
Her logical mind understood that no hint of Helen’s presence could be retrieved from going there after so much time had passed, but her heart longed for the chance to stand and sit where Helen had been and see what she had seen.
Shaking her head to dispel these unrealistic ideas, Anna focused instead on the beach picture.
This was an opportunity to see what the relationship between Mrs. Aitken and Aunt Helen had been like.
Aunt Helen.
Anna realized she did not always claim Helen as a member of her family in this way, but it seemed right to now add the family label permanently. The resemblance to her mother had changed something in Anna’s perception.
She continued to search the photograph and felt renewed closeness to the figure she saw there.
Both women were laughing at the photographer and Anna saw a glimpse of her own face in the way Aunt Helen’s left eyebrow raised in surprise. She wondered if they also shared the trick of making their ears move at will. Something Anna had used effectively, on occasion, to amuse children in her teaching years.
Not much chance of ever finding out about that little quirk, she cautioned herself, and resumed examination of the happy scene.
The women sat with legs extended and it was clear that Mrs. Aitken was the smaller and heavier of the two. Both wore sturdy walking shoes, skirts and heavy jackets. Mrs. Aitken favoured the brimmed hat with the feather, while Aunt Helen had on a plaid hat Anna would have called a trilby; a masculine style that was coming back into fashion in the last year or so.
At least it left her face more visible, Anna mused. The smile had transformed that face and it gladdened Anna’s heart to know moments of happiness had been possible in what she had always felt must have been an unhappy existence, for the most part.
Kirsty, Alan’s mother, and Helen’s nearest neighbour, had confirmed Aunt Helen spent her happiest years at the Mc Caig Farm Estate House. She admitted Helen had preferred solitude and a simple life, but it was comforting for Anna to know that her Aunt Helen was not without friends when she wanted them. It placed stodgy Mrs. Aitken in a more favourable light now that it was clear she was included in the list of friends.
Anna tried to find a hint of the grim face she remembered from George’s office, but the smile transfigured Mrs. Aitken’s thin lips and heavy eyebrows.
Just goes to show, she admonished herself, that you can’t judge a person from a brief acquaintance. I will try to be more charitable with strangers in the future.
The first in the final set of photos was taken in front of a tour bus. The logo on the side declared ‘Glencoe Tours’.
Aunt Helen appeared to be older and more frail, as she was leaning heavily on a walking stick. There was one more photo of her by the side of the road with mountains reaching to the sky behind her and water cascading down the rocks nearby. She looked totally unable to attempt any walking in the Valley of Glencoe. Anna found it sad that the old lady had not been able to venture far from the bus. It was as if she was saying farewell to the beautiful, rugged scenery of Scotland for the last time.
“Too sad!” Anna murmured. She collected the pictures together and found a folder to store them in. She would ask George to send all the originals by express post and then she would find a photographic studio where the faded colours of the pictures could be restored to their original brilliance. Perhaps Maria’s husband Paul could advise her about this.
Restoring more intense colour to these photographs would not bring Aunt Helen back to life, but it was the last link Anna had, and she was not willing to deny herself the tiniest speck of information that might be revealed.
Until this was done, she would keep the photographs secret. Somehow, she felt Aunt Helen would approve.