Ella immediately walks across and asks the woman if she can see the puppy.
‘Of course, pet.’ The woman lifts the puppy out of the box and hands it to Ella. Her face lights up, the fluffy bundle of puppy nuzzling into her chest.
‘I’m taking him back home. I reckon he’s going to cause quite a stir on the island!’
I look closely at the woman. I don’t recognise her so assume she must be a local, not a native. The terms for different islanders come back to me in a rush. Natives – those who grew up there, often with families who have been on the island for generations. Next come locals, people who have lived there for five years or more and are an accepted part of the community but will never have quite the status of natives. And below that tourists and ‘blow-ins’, people who visit with ambitions of settling there but leave after their first winter or two. What category do I fit into now?
‘What’s his name?’ Ella asks the woman, stroking the puppy who is now licking her arm.
‘I’ve called him Puff.’
Ella holds Puff slightly away from her body. Her grey T-shirt is covered in white and black hair. She laughs.
‘That’s a perfect name.’
‘Thanks, hen, I thought so too. So, are you and your mum on a wee holiday?’
The woman looks over at me now, a smile on her face. I attempt a smile back but my heart is racing and I can’t quite get my face to respond. Before I can say anything, Ella answers, her voice light.
‘Yeah, we’re visiting for a couple of weeks.’
I bought a flexible train ticket, not sure how this trip would pan out.
‘Here, I guess you want him back,’ adds Ella.
She hands Puff to the woman with the pink hair, who gently places him back in the box. I’m relieved that Ella didn’t go into the details of our trip with this stranger. But it’s embarrassing that it took my teenage daughter to step in and answer with such lightness. I need to get myself together.
‘Well if you want to come and visit him at all while you’re staying, I live in the blue house in the middle of the island, you can’t miss it. I’m Brenda, by the way.’
‘I’m Ella, and this is my mum, Lorna.’
I dig deeper for my smile this time.
‘Hello. What a sweet puppy.’
‘Lorna …’
Is it a frown that crosses briefly over Brenda’s face? She looks at me closely and I try not to shrink under her gaze. But then she is smiling again.
‘Well, you both have a good trip. It sounds like our ferry is here.’
We drag our suitcases out to the water’s edge where a few cars are already driving onto the back of the boat. Only residents are allowed to bring cars onto the island. I spot piles of loo roll and shopping bags in the boot of several of the vehicles. They must belong to islanders stocking up and returning home. There is a van too; it looks just like the one that used to deliver the post and other supplies to the island.
I follow Ella and the other passengers down the path that leads to the pedestrian entrance of the ferry. As we reach the metal ramp I pause, looking back. Behind me lie the car park, the port and the buildings beyond that make up the small fishing town. The mainland and the train that could take me back to Fort William and eventually home to London. Ahead there is nothing but sea and uncertainty. I’m not sure that I can do this. We’ve come so far already, I know. But once I get on that boat there’s really no going back.
‘Are you OK, Mum?’
Ella turns to me. Beside her the ferry master looks me up and down, the cars safely parked and the other passengers already on board and up the steps that lead to the café and seating deck.
‘Are you boarding, ma’am?’
I glance again at Ella and force a smile.
‘Sorry, we’re coming,’ I say to the ferry master as I loop my arm through Ella’s. Her expression is worried for a moment but I give her hand a reassuring squeeze.
‘I’m fine,’ I tell her, not because I am but because I’m her mother. ‘Let’s go.’
Ella looks up excitedly towards the waiting boat and together, we step on board.
