Reef - Chapter 43: Stowaway's Return

Reef leapt from the boat as soon as the gangplank was lashed-on and the doors open. The stuffy ferry had taken up so much of her senses that she had all but forgotten where she was or what she was doing. As she trotted down the sloping walkway she noticed the smell first, Ullapool this was not. The smells on board were mostly of dog and walking boots, not smells unfamiliar to her, but here she was assailed by the scents of the big city. There were buses and lorries and fishing boats and tractors, each with their individual smell. She had encountered all of these before, of course, but never so many all in the one place. And the streets were so large and bustling with people that she
wondered how anyone could get their job done, there being so many people to stop and say hello to.

At the end of the pier, as she stepped onto truly solid island ground she was confronted with a  dilemma, her intention in coming here was to find out if there was another Ceilidh Place, another branch of the MacNeacails and another Reef. But where of where to start. One of the first things her delicate ears picked-up, above the call of the seagulls, was that many people appeared to be chatting in the Old Tongue. Reef had heard a few words and many songs, but nothing that would be of any use to her in asking directions. But there was a street in front of here and it led uphill, she was never going to find anything standing around at the ferry port. She galloped forth.

She noticed with interest the difference in the shops, there were so many of them and so many types of shop. Many seemed to be aimed just at tourists. They had that, of course, in Ullapool but she realised now that though people pass through Ullapool they were headed for a stay in Stornoway. And they came for all of this, the bustle, the brouhaha, and the bags, bunnets and brollies all made of Tweed. There was an awful lot of the patterned material everywhere she looked, in neon
tartans and muted greys, in brown jackets for the hills and smart black coats for the walk to work. It looked nice though she thought about the snooty Greyhound on the boat, who had been wearing a coat, and decided it wasn't suitable for a real dog.

She ran up the hill and found the town was bigger even than she had first thought, very confusing. She chose a side street that curved down and around to the shore again. The was a wee music pub there called the Garage, the door was open so she went inside. Within was fairly bright and there was a smell of smoked fish and a chip pan on the go. She sniffed around for any fallen scraps and sat to watch the fiddler tuning his instrument in the inglenook. 'Halò, co às a tha thu?,' said a jolly plump lady to her, bringing out a haddock salad and cheesy chips to a man by the window. 'You're dog's a smart one,' she continued in English to the diner.

'She's no mine, missus,' replied the man. 'She just popped-in of her own just now.'

'Woof', said Reef, to show she was better in English than Old Tongue.

'Well, wee madadh, let's get you a bowl of water,' said the lady. She brought through a bowl a moment later, and a couple of scraps of ham. A sheepdog much like Reef, though black with grey patches, bundled through and shared some of the water before wagging his tail and sniffing Reef in friendly greeting. 'Quarry, meet our guest,' said the lady, whose name was Arriadne. The dog touched noses with Reef and they both wagged their tails in unison. Stornoway was a fine and welcoming place indeed. But the sight of Quarry and Arriadne all of a sudden brought a pang of homesickness to Reef, who was further from her beloved MacNeacails than she had been since she was born.

She woofed and stood up, time to go she thought. Quarry stood up to and made for the exit. 'Alright you two, off you go and explore together,' said Arriadne. The two dogs set off down the paved road back towards the harbour. Quarry was a fine gentlemanly dog and showed her a quick route through a back garden, that just happened to have a family barbeque going on. Two sausages and a game of tig later and the dogs continued on down past the Co-op and onto the pier.

'Hey, you two, no tickets no ferry.' Said a man who looked important in welly boots and woolly hat. Quarry wagged his tail and the man looked at them askance. 'I know you, Quarry, you wee slaightear,' he said, ' But who are you?' Reef barked and the man called over his mate. 'Ruaridh? Who's this with your Quarry?'

Ruaridh came over. Quarry recognised him at once for he was Arriadne's husband and worked part of the time on the boat and part of the time at the pier. 'I don't know, Alasdair. Shall we ask around?'

Just at that point a lady called Moira, who worked on the boat passed by with a couple of rubbish bags. 'That's Reef!' she said, amusedly. She stays at the Ceilidh Place in Ullapool. 'Are you here on holiday, girl?' Reef barked back that she was on an adventure. 'Strange that she doesn't seem to have anyone with her,' continued Moira. Quarry woofed a little, for he was someone, surely? 'I have an inkling,' said Moira, 'just a hunch mind, but I'm going to give her people a call.' She disappeared inside a hut Reef heard her picking-up the telephone. A few minutes later, Moira came out beaming. 'You, young lady, are getting a VIP trip back to Ullapool! The MacNeacails were amazed when I told them where you were!'

And so, with a goodbye from Quarry and a promise to say hello if he was ever on the 'mainland', Reef took the return cruise in style. She was allowed up on the bridge, from where the ship's officers steered the boat, given a tour of all the outside decks by the beautiful silver haired purser, Jen. And someone had even brought along a tin of the finest dog food money could buy, so she was well fed and far happier than she had felt on the trip out. And when they docked and Reef ran down the gangplank leading back hom there was a wee welcoming party at the pier, everyone in town seemed to have turned out, Big Bob, Mhairi, Jeannie, Dougie, Jim, Barry, Farmer Stuart, Ali the Post, wee Nerys from the paper shop with her dad Pauley, Mrs Paterson from the post office, a photographer from The Ullapool News and even the Minister himself, his church garb wrapped up against the wind. Jeannie and Dougie held little 'Welcome Home Reef' placards that they'd made themselves and everyone gathered around to give her a clap and a cuddle and a stern wagging of the finger from Mhairi for 'running off like that'. Admonished but glad to be back, Reef decided that, whilst Stornoway was brilliant, there was an unending truth: there was no place like home. And the Ceilidh Place was the best home around.