Chapter Twenty
Fly Away Home
The fifty-seater plane jostled and bumped around in a pocket of turbulence. I liked flying so it didn’t particularly bother me, Joe however, was as white as a sheet. I’d taken the window seat and was enjoying the view of the lush green hills and patchwork of farmlands below. Joe had each of the chair arms in a death grip, his knuckles were white and his face ashen. His forehead looked clammy and he had his eyes squeezed shut. Another air pocket made the plane lurch and I heard Joe groan.
“Are you going to be sick?” I hurriedly pulled out the paper bag from the seat pocket and opened it out for Joe. “Oh babe, I’m so sorry. If I’d known you didn’t like flying we would have driven instead. Why didn’t you say something?”
“Didn’t know.” He managed to say, and took the paper bag from me. The sound of his retching filled the small cabin and a few heads turned sympathetically in our direction. I rang for the stewardess. A moment later the slender uniformed flight attendant who had greeted us on to the plane before take-off, arrived and bent slightly over our seats, proffering her well trained smile upon us.
“Can I help you?”
“Yes, could we get another bag please?” I held out the filled paper bag to her and she took it dutifully. The contents swilling around made a slopping sound.
“Of course.” She smiled, took the bag from me and turned to Joe. “Would you like a glass of water sir?”
“Thank you.” Was all Joe managed to say. I patted his hand and tried to distract him with humour.
“I thought Italians were superhuman?”
“They are, it turns out flying is my kryptonite,” he attempted a smile in my direction but the plane lurched again and his handsome face turned from grey to green, “oh Jesus.”
“Do you want to go to the loo? You can be sick in there.”
“I don’t think I can get up.”
Thankfully the stewardess arrived then with a handful of paper bags. Joe grabbed one and stuck his face in it seconds before he expelled more of his stomach contents. He handed her the second filled bag and took the empty ones from her. She handed him a bottle of mineral water and a napkin with a sympathetic smile.
“Won’t be long now sir. About another forty minutes and we’ll be landing.” She looked at me. “Buzz if you need anything else.”
“Thank you.” I nodded and she left us. I stroked Joe’s hair and put my head on his shoulder. “Poor baby. What are we going to do with you?”
“Well I would say put me in a bag and shake me up but the plane is doing a pretty good job of that already.” He tried to joke but his face was still green and there was a sheen of sweat across his brow. “I think I know why I never made it back to Italy eh?” My heart constricted.
“What do you mean?” I asked tentatively.
“If I was like this flying from Italy to England, no wonder I never went back.” He chuckled and relief flooded me. For a moment I had feared he was about to open up that conversation again and now was not a good time. I tried to deflect the conversation away from his home country and the lost memories by joking back,
“Is that the only reason?” I asked in mock indignation.
“Hmm, well there was this girl that I met. I don’t quite remember her name but she had nice boobs.”
I punched his arm softly. “Watch it mister, my sympathy for the sick Italian may quickly run out.”
“You’re kind of sexy when you’re mad and bossy.”
I gave him a sideways glance and smirked. “You’re kind of sexy even when you smell of vomit.” I giggled at his expression, especially when he covered his mouth with his hand and tried to smell his own breath.
“Oh shit, it’s really bad huh?”
“Dreadful.”
“Want a kiss?” He puckered up his lips and leaned in. I held him back with my hand.
“No way José! Don’t you come near me until you’ve brushed your teeth.”
“Who is this José? Do I need to be jealous?”
“You should be, he has better breath than you.” I laughed and Joe came at me again, lips puckered and making kiss noises. The seatbelt sign pinged above us and the pilot made the announcement that we were beginning our descent into Aberdeen airport. A few moments later I felt the plane begin its drop through the atmosphere. I enjoyed the sensation, my belly lurched but it was rather like being on a fairground ride. Poor Joe hated it, he’d gone back to assaulting the chair arms with his death grip. I always loved looking out of the window when a plane was landing, I liked to watch the landscape and buildings unfold beneath me but right this minute, Joe needed me more. I laid my head on his shoulder again and covered his hand with mine.
“Just tell me when it’s over?” He asked through gritted teeth.
“Won’t be long and then we can get out in the fresh air,” I glanced out of the window briefly, “and rain.” I groaned.
The actual landing had been smooth much to Joe’s relief. He was shaking when he stood up to retrieve our bags from the overhead compartment.
“Want me to drive when we get the hire car?” He didn’t look capable of walking in a straight line right now, let alone driving. Joe stopped dead, his brow crinkled in thought.
“Do I know how to drive? I…I can’t remember.”
“You…don’t know how to drive?” His question had caught me off guard and it didn’t register that I had just confirmed that I didn’t know the answer. This was something I should know. Joe looked at me in confusion. He opened his mouth to reply but people began pushing and jostling to get to their luggage and get off the plane. I’d had a last-minute reprieve for which I was extremely thankful. I just needed Joe to hold off with the questions until we found Laney, then I could tell him the truth and I’d have the proof to back it up.
As we descended the stairs from the plane on to the tarmac, the driving rain came in blustery gusts that bit and stung our faces. Joe and I ran towards the terminal building but we were soaked through by the time we reached it.
“Damn Scottish weather,” Joe said as he wiped the rain from his face, “are we having an adventure yet?” He asked me dryly.
“Har har! Don’t be such a pessimist. It’ll be fun when we’re settled in our little cottage with a roaring fire and the ocean at our doorstep.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. So, come on, let’s go find the car hire kiosk.”
We ended up with a little Vauxhall Corsa, bright red with a sunroof. That last detail made me chuckle, not much use for a sunroof around here today. I got in the driver’s side and started the engine to warm up the car. Joe got in the passenger side after putting our weekend bags in the boot. He’d put my large satchel, which doubled as my handbag, between his legs in the footwell.
“OK, I can’t get google maps up on my phone for the GPS, you’ll have to dig out the A4 sheet I printed off instead.” I instructed him. Joe bent and began to rummage around in my satchel, he pulled out a wad of papers bound together with an elastic band.
“You brought this? Why?”
Shit.
“Naomi?”
“I don’t know. I…I can’t explain right now, Joe. Can you just wait till we get to the cottage and then we can discuss it, please?” Joe examined my face for a moment and then shrugged his shoulders.
“OK. I will wait.”
“Really?” I couldn’t quite believe it had been that easy.
“I’m too tired and washed out to argue with you bella. I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt. We’ll discuss it later. Let’s get going, I’d like to get settled in.” He replaced the manuscript and pulled out the A4 sheet of directions to Crovie. It was about an hour’s drive and a fairly straightforward route, although some of the journey looked a little lonely. I hoped the Corsa could cope with the terrain. I’d never ventured into the wild Scottish countryside before, my only experience with this bonnie land was Edinburgh. I had no idea what to expect from this tiny fishing hamlet that lay tucked between the rugged cliffs and the open ocean. Anticipation filled me, the desire to find Laney was overpowering but I tried to enjoy some of the scenery as we travelled. Joe was unusually quiet for the most part, aside from issuing directions and asking if he could tune in the car radio, he didn’t say much else. I tried putting it down to the fact that the plane journey had taken its toll on him but I knew he was biding his time to ask me why I’d brought along the manuscript. It had been a touchy subject since our argument and I had not dared to mention it again since then.
When we took the last turn off for Crovie I had to slow down and look for the car park that supposedly lay just before the hairpin bend by the village.
“There.” Joe pointed to it and I pulled the car in and parked it up. The owner of our rental cottage had informed me that there was no room for cars in the village and so all vehicles had to be parked in the car park at the top of the cliff. There were three other cars parked up, I guessed they must belong to other holiday makers or perhaps to one of the five permanent residents.
The rain was still hammering down as we fished out our bags from the boot.
“How far is it?” Joe asked, the rain pelting his face.
“Um, a couple of minutes’ walk down the road according to the owner.”
“Thank God! We’ll be like a pair of drowned rats by the time we get there. Here, let me take your bag.” Joe held out his hand for my bag but I shook my head,
“It’s OK, I can manage, let’s just get inside. I’m freezing!” We set off down the hill, following the sign for Crovie. Thankfully, a few minutes later, the stone buildings of the hamlet came into view.
“Wow. They really weren’t joking that there was no room for cars eh?” Joe and I stood at the end of the street and looked at the single row of stone cottages that clung to the bottom of the cliff, their gable ends all turned towards the ocean. Realistically, you couldn’t even call it a proper street since there was no road whatsoever, just a footpath that ran in front of the cottages which doubled as a small walled sea defence. Only a few feet separated the stone walls from the beach. The tide was out now but I could imagine the waves must lash relentlessly at the wall on windy days such as today.
“That’ll be fun in a storm,” Joe said, “which one is ours?”
“It’s the old mission hall. It doesn’t have a number but I don’t think it’ll be hard to find somehow.”
We only walked about twenty meters until we found the mission hall, there were lights on inside and I knocked on the door. A few seconds later a middle-aged woman opened it and welcomed us with her broad Scottish accent.
“Och come in there now. Yous'll be freezing.”
“Thank you.” I said and the woman opened the door to usher us in. The cottage was warm and relatively spacious considering the little plot of land it stood on.
“Now, my name is Moira and you’ll be Mr and Mrs Ferrantino, is that right?” I nodded and noticed Joe’s forehead crinkle. Moira turned and walked into the lounge area, we followed her and Joe picked up both our bags.
“What’s wrong?” I whispered to him.
“I don’t understand a word she is saying!” He whispered back. A snort of laughter escaped me. It was hard enough for me to understand such a broad accent so no wonder Joe was struggling.
“What a dreich day eh?” Moira said. I had no idea what ‘driech’ meant but considering the rain and wind, I assumed it had something to do with the weather.
“Yes, it’s not very nice out there really.”
“Well, I’ve put yous the burner on so yous can go get warm there.” She motioned to the large wood burning stove that stood roaring and radiated a much welcome heat. “Now, there’s plenty ‘o logs in back so you’ll nae run out. I’ve taken the liberty ‘o stocking up the fridge a wee bit for you. Just some eggs and milk and the like OK?”
“That’s really kind of you thank you.”
“Aye well, it’s a fair way to walk to Gardenstown. That’s the nearest shop and you don’ want te be walking in this weather. There’s enough to tide you over till tomorrow. I live just three doors away so if you need any’hin else just ask.”
“Great thanks.”
“Here’s your key. The bed’s all made up for yous. We’re expecting a bit of a wee storm tonight so I wouldn’y wander off too far. It can get a wee bit squally during a storm but don’t worry, these houses were built solid.”
“Oh. Right, OK.” I said. I supposed there wasn’t anywhere for us to go, I just wanted to find Laney but I couldn’t ask Moira while Joe was here. Moira nodded at us both and started towards the front door. “I’ll walk you out.” I offered. “Joe, could you take ours bags to the bedroom please?”
“Sure. Thank you, Moira.” He said, struggling to pronounce her name. I walked Moira out of the door and as she turned to shake my hand I asked,
“Who are the other permanent residents?”
“Well, we’re few and far between now lassy but there’s me and ma husband, Cambell. Then there’s Mrs McCreedy and her dog and The Drummonds down the bay there.”
“That’s it?” I asked disappointed that there had been no mention of Laney Marsh.
“Aye lass. No’ many of us left now. These cottages are mostly kept as holiday lets.”
“I don’t suppose you know anyone called Laney Marsh?” I asked hopefully, thinking that perhaps Laney owned one of the cottages for rent instead.
“Marsh? The name’s no’ familiar but I can ask Cambell for you. He knows everyone, he’s a nosey bugger.” She chuckled.
“Thank you, that’d be great.”
“What are ye wanting wi’ her anyway?”
“I used to know her, sort of. I did some work for her and I have something I need to discuss with her. The address I have for her is here in Crovie.”
“Och OK, well chances are lass that she’s an owner then. Probably lives in Gardenstown. Cambell will know. Anyway lass, get yourself settled in and go take care o’ that gorgeous wee man o’ yours. I’d no’ be leaving him alone if he were mine.” Moira nudged my arm and winked. I giggled back at her, Joe always appealed to the older ladies. He didn’t even have to do or say anything and he had them noticing him.
I said goodbye to Moira and locked the door. I found Joe unpacking our weekend bags and hanging our clothes up in the cupboard.
“Well, I hope you can tell me what she said because I don’t have a clue?” Joe pulled a face which made me smile.
“Just talk about the weather and that she’s put us some supplies in the fridge. Oh and she said the logs for the fire are out the back.”
“She brought food? That’s nice. I’m hungry, most of the contents of my lunch ended up in a paper bag.”
“Ha! Oh my poor baby, want me to go make something?”
“I’ll do it, you can finish hanging these up if you like? I feel like I need to be in the kitchen. I don’t feel settled until I’ve found my way around an oven.” Joe left the room and I took over the unpacking, setting out our toiletries in the bathroom and tucking the bags away in the bottom of the wardrobe. I felt encouraged now that I was here and hopefully a little closer to finding Laney. If Moira’s husband came through with some information that would save me a lot of time digging around. We were only here for two nights, I hoped it was enough.