I Was Told There’d be Cake........Chapter One

I feel a bit peculiar as I step ashore. I can’t be certain whether this is because of the heaving and yawing or from the incessant chatting of the small, effeminate man who had introduced himself to me almost as soon as I’d sat down on deck. His name was David and during the two hour and forty minute crossing he’d told me, in a most exaggerated and theatrical manner, his whole life story, about his love of the theatre and in particular his adoration of the islands. His bright blue eyes twinkled with excitement and each time he mentioned the islands he had hugged himself. 

There was a heavy sea mist which obscured the horizon and by about an hour into the crossing I had started to feel quite queasy and had excused myself to find a toilet. Venturing below deck had been a seriously bad idea and I felt almost dazed with relief once back in the fresh air on deck. David had beckoned me over and patted the seat next to him, exclaiming that he’d saved it for me.  Meanwhile several passengers were retching over the side and several of the dogs were sick.  Horatio, my dog, was a picture of misery, his ears hung limply while he drooled copiously; he obviously was not as much of a sailor as his namesake.

The crossing became smoother as we slipped into the leeside of the islands but many of the regular visitors were expressing their disappointment about the view being obscured by the mist. I didn’t mind, I didn’t know what I was missing. When we docked I hung back and enjoyed the harbour scene from the deck rather than join the throng of passengers queuing by the exit.  

By the time I step onto the quay the luggage container has been lowered ashore by the crane. With Horatio pulling determinedly, I slip past the group of people surrounding the stevedores and make my way along the cobbled quay. Wheeled suitcases are being bumped along tipping first to one side then the other and imagining doing this while also trying to control the elated-to-be-back-on-shore Horatio I am very grateful for the hotel luggage service.

At the end of the quay I pause to read the Boatman’s Association boards advertising trips to the off-islands, fishing and seal watching. “Don’t worry, Horatio, we’re not going on another boat today” I tell him, “later in the week”. He looks at me disapprovingly and gives me a hard tug. Suddenly David is at my side, gasping slightly from the effort of dragging his suitcase across the cobbles.  I get the impression that he may have tried hard to catch up with me. 

“Oh the trips are just delightful, darling” he exclaims. “Where are you staying?” 

“The Star Castle Hotel” I reply.

“Oh how simply wonderful for you, it’s marvellous, I’ll show you the way”. 

I can’t help but like this funny little man in all his enthusiasm and friendliness as he trips along beside me. When we reach the right hand junction in the road that will lead me uphill, he bids me farewell: 

“Do have a most lovely time and do call in and have a cup of tea with me one day if you’d like to, I’m staying at Rose Cottage, just along here” he calls after me, “You’d be most welcome” and then he waves like he’s seeing off a friend he’s known all his life. I smile and wave back. David isn’t quite the sort of man I had imagined I may meet while travelling alone but all the same I won’t forget him or his kindness. 

The cobbled road rises very steeply towards the granite garrison wall. As I pass through the gateway I’m gripped by an almost overwhelming excitement, it’s a long time since I’ve felt like this about anything, since anywhere felt this special. Horatio tugs again and as I slip him off his lead he races away from me and then back again, he’s clearly excited too. I’m starting to breathe hard and I can feel my heart pounding from the effort of the uphill climb. I’m relieved to see the Star Castle is only about another couple of hundred meters ahead of me just beyond the colourful flowerbeds spilling red and purple fuchsias and orange montbretia towards the entrance. 

At the steps before the lichen covered archway that leads to the solid looking door beyond I clip Horatio back onto his lead and turn towards the harbour while I catch my breath. It’s almost obscured by the mist but I can make out the ship and the quay and the slate grey rooftops of the small town far below me. I can hear the clanging of a bouy marking a rock out at sea but other than that it is totally silent.  I turn towards my home for the next week and push open the door. 

(by Sally)