Ch3: May 15th part 1

Ian and I arrange to meet up outside the pub at eight the next day. I wake up early, my head spinning slightly from all the cider the night before and hope that I won’t be sick on the flight. I don’t like flying at the best of times, but how could I turn him down? I came looking for an adventure, and it seems the adventure has found me.

Showered and ready to go before seven, I make my way down for breakfast. Margy is in the dining room seeing to another early riser. I ask for a full English, best cure for a hangover if ever there was one.

“So are you staying another night, or are have you figured out where you’re off to next?” She asks me as she brings my breakfast out. My mouth is watery at the sight of it, and I’m happy to see she doesn’t skim on portions.

“I’m actually going to Shetland.” I can’t help bit smirk. I’m not just going to the Shetland Islands, I’m going free, at the expense of a man who has more money than sense and wants to take me along for the ride. I wonder for a moment if he’s married, and immediately shrug off the thought. He’s old enough to be my dad, for Christ’s sake.

“Oh that’s a lovely thing to do. Haven’t been there for years, but this time of year the islands really come into their own.”

She leaves me to eat, and I do so in a happy haze. I realise for the first time since Chris died that my heart doesn’t feel heavy. The sun coming out when I arrived yesterday really was a good omen. Maybe it was Chris telling me I’m doing the right thing coming here.

I’m waiting in front of the pub just before eight, and wonder for a moment if Ian meant what he said. I’d feel a fool if he didn’t show, left me standing here feeling stupid. Then a taxi pulls up. Ian’s inside.
He throws open a door and hops out.

 “How are you this morning? Head not too thick?”

I grin. “I’m fine thanks.”

He takes my suitcase and the driver gets out and helps him put it in the boot.

“Come on, come on. We’ve got a flight to catch.”

I climb in beside him and watch as he dry swallows a couple of paracetamol. He shrugs. “I, however, do have a hangover. I think you were a bad influence on me last night.”

We’d stayed at the put until just before closing time. I must have had six pints, maybe seven. I lost count. Ian was matching me. Didn’t seem that much for a man, maybe he’s not much of a drinker normally. He offers me the packet and I shake my head.

“I’m fine, really. Nothing a breakfast of eggs and meat doesn’t solve.” I laugh as he holds his stomach and looks a bit sick for a moment.

“So are you sure you want to do this? I wouldn’t be cross if you backed out,” he asks me.

“Oh no, I’m think this is going to be just what I need.” I settle into my seat and watch Aberdeen pass by my window. 

The airport is your basic boring concrete covered building. Looks like lots of other airports I’ve seen, just smaller. There aren’t many crowds, not like Heathrow or Gatwick, and before long we’re in the waiting lounge. I can see our plane through the viewing windows. It’s not a big plane, not like the ones I took to Spain and Greece with Mum and Dad a few years back.

By ten we’re on the plane and buckled in. Nerves flutter in my tummy briefly. I don’t like flying much, but don’t want to tell Ian. He’s being so nice to me and I don’t want to seem ungrateful. Before long, the plane is taxying and then the pilot hits the gas and we’re in the air.

I’ve been gone from home just over a day, and as the plane heads out over the North Sea, I wonder how Mum and Dad are coping. Guilt is building in me. I should find a phone and ring them. Or ask Ian, he must have a mobile on him. I could let them know where I am. I realise now how selfish I
was taking off and keeping them in the dark.

Seems the plane only just got up that it starts the decent. The plane is small, with a row of three seats on each side and a centre aisle. It’s makes lots of creaking and groaning sounds, and I must admit, I wonder just how safe it is. I distract myself thinking about what the Shetland Islands are like. I think I’ve seen pictures, I watched that Coast programme with Mum and I’m sure they were featured. I remember there are lots of birds on barren treeless chunks of land. Is his island like that, bare of trees and sterile? I’ll find out soon. The thought of it starts the butterflies in my belly again.

I look over Ian and watch through the little window as the plane goes lower and islands comes into view.

“That’s big one stretching north is Mainland,” Ian tells me.

“That’s its name? Seems like an odd name.” The coastline looks rugged to me, almost forbidding. Grey stone makes up the cliffs with grass covering the land above. Low rolling hills stretch out as far as I can see and white dots of sheep are everywhere. “Don’t they have trees here?”

“Too windswept. You can find Rowen and crab apple trees, but only in sheltered spots.”

The plane heads for a runway, and the pilot expertly lands the plane gently on the tarmac. I’m relieved to be on the ground again, and excited to see what happens next.

This airport makes the one in Aberdeen look ginormous. We don’t link up to the main building, instead a staircase is rolled into place, and we descend and get onto a bus. A short ride later, we go into the airport and collect our luggage. Before I know it, we’re outside and heading towards a car rental place. Seems Ian was expected and we drive off in a champagne coloured Peugeot 2008.

“We’re going to Lerwick. I have a small house there and a boat. All we need to do is get supplies and take the boat out to Vanir. There’s stormy weather coming, so we have to be quick or you’ll end up stuck on Mainland for a few days.”

We’re driving fast on almost empty roads, past fields and more fields. Some have Shetland ponies in all different colours, from black to light tan and every mix of colour in between. Most have sheep, a rugged hairy breed. Must be to survive here. Ian’s been telling me about the climate. Not sure I’d want to live here full time. I like my sun and the warmth of the Wirral too much. There’s fog lying across the land as we come up on Lerwick. It’s not taken long, just over half an hour. Ian pulls the car up in front of a small stone cottage on the outskirts of Lerwick. I’ve enjoyed the ride, giggling at a sign that said: Otter Crossing and the town sign for Lerwick that says it means ‘Muddy Bay’ in Viking.

“Come on, not long before we have to leave.” Ian hurries us, and I only see the entrance hall of his house as he dumps his suitcase inside. “See the clouds?”

There are dark grey clouds coming at us from the south. The colour reminds me of the lead weights Dad uses when he goes fishing.

We march off into town – it’s a small place and after a few streets, we’re in a pedestrian zone and amongst the shops.

“Ian, do you have a mobile? I should call my parents.”

He looks at me, taking a moment before answering. “Sorry, I don’t believe in the things. Hate being found, hate not being able to be by myself.”

“Well, if we can stop at a phone box, there must be one around here somewhere…” I haven’t seen one yet, but not all the phone boxes have gone, surely there’s one here.

“I’ll see if we can find one. First stop: warmer clothes.”

I follow him into the Shetland Woollen Co., a shop full of those famous Shetland woolly jumpers. He thrusts a few at me, and I try them on at speed. Ian keeps looking at his watch and glancing out the window. He buys me one of the jumpers. We stop next at a shop full of hiking and walking gear. He buys me a jacket and waterproof trousers, despite me saying he doesn’t need to. I’m not sure if I want to stay on the island all by myself, but he seems convinced I’ll love it enough to stay for a week or two.

Ian goes off at speed again, and we must have circled back, as I realise we’re by the cottage again.

“Sorry, the only phone box I knew of is gone now. I’m in the minority, everyone carries a mobile these days. Tell you what, give me your parent’s details, and I’ll call them if you decide to stay.”

“I guess… Couldn’t we find a phone? Don’t you have one in the house? I peer in a window as Ian gets into the car. He toots the horn. 

“Come on, storms coming, we need to keep moving.”

I feel flustered and jump into the car and he speeds off.