Watching The Ripples

LOCH AWE, AD 250. “Morach! Stop your dreamin’ and lend a hand here. I need to stretch my legs.” The gruff voice startled Morach out of her reverie. She turned and, through the dim light and the tendrils of smoke rising from the fire, she could see displeasure on the old man’s face.

“Here,” he commanded, indicating the long-handled spoon he was stirring in the pot over the fire.

Not wanting to incur further wrath, Morach moved hastily to his side and took over his task.

With a nod and a grunt, he stood up stiffly and shuffled across to the open doorway then disappeared out into the twilight.

Gamame watched him go and Morach heard her sighing softly.

“What’s the matter with Guppa?” she ventured.

Unlike the old man, Gamame never minded her asking questions.

There was a cloud in Gamame’s eyes as she turned her gaze on Morach.

“He hasn’t long left,” she replied, turning back to her task of skewering pieces of meat on to a sharp stick, ready to roast on the fire.

Morach felt her heart go cold. It couldn’t be true! Guppa had always been there. She couldn’t imagine a day when she’d wake up and he was no longer sitting by the fire.

His main responsibility these days was to make sure the fire didn’t go out. But often, while he sat there, he’d tell Morach and her brothers many a tale of the days before he grew old, when he’d be out hunting, fishing, harvesting and felling trees.

Trees which he and the other men of the day cut into the logs which would form the frame of their family home, their crannog.

Morach looked up at the fug of smoke above her head, keeping in the warmth before seeping out through the thatch of reeds and moss which covered the roof.

Morach liked the smoke; the warmth it brought to their home, the comfort of knowing that as long as the smoke could be seen rising out through their roof, it meant that Guppa and Gamame were inside.

It was the time Morach liked best, when all of them – Guppa and Gamame, Ma and Fa, Fa’s two brothers and their wives, then all their children – gathered together under their roof as the light began to fade.

They were all returning now, reaching home in twos and threes, the men hanging their tools up along the walls inside the door, the children ushering the animals inside.

The women climbed to the upper level of the house to unfold the woven cloths and animal furs and bed the children down for the night.

The many smells within the circular structure jostled with each other: the aroma of the hot, spitting meat, the damp wool and hide of the animals; the appetising warmth of Gamame’s nourishing broth; the bracken underfoot.

The sounds of home and family brought comfort to her as she assisted Ma and Gamame by passing round spoons whittled from wood. They all accepted bowls of thick steaming broth and chunks of blackened bread.

Guppa came in and sat beside Gamame and they exchanged a rare soft look. It troubled her, but as Guppa began to eat with relish, she relaxed and enjoyed listening to the adults talking as they ate their meal together, telling tales of the day.

“Did you manage to repair the boat, Fa?” she asked.

“I did, lass – with your brother’s help,” Fa replied. “He’s learning fast.”

Morach looked in surprise at Eoin. He

Many other people had lived in this beautiful, peaceful place . . .

looked pleased but bashful, and Morach felt a twinge of envy. At fourteen, he was a year older than herself and it was strange to realise he was now beginning to join the men in their work.

“Can I help, too, Fa?” she asked eagerly.

“You’re learning to spin, Morach,” Ma put in. Morach scowled. “Och, but spinning’s –” “Important work,” Gamame interrupted, looking stern.

“That it is, lass, and don’t forget it,” Guppa agreed, and Morach couldn’t suppress a stab of disappointment.

“But,” Guppa continued, “I’ll need you with me the morn. All right, boy?”

The boy he addressed was his eldest son, the father of Eoin and Morach, who nodded curtly in response. Whatever he felt about the matter, Guppa was the family head.

“Ailesh can watch the fire the morn,” Fa said, his eyes turning to his brother’s wife, heavy with child.

Ailesh gave a sweet smile which somehow caused Morach’s heart to twist a little, though she couldn’t understand why.

But the moment passed when Gamame handed her some more meat.

“Eat, Morach. Important day the morn. There’s much for you to learn.”

The old lady smiled at her and anticipation welled up inside Morach. She had no idea what to expect next day, but time spent with Guppa was always special.

****

Loch Awe, 2018.

Shannon trudged across the stony shore, the wet stones rolling and clacking underneath her trainers.

What had possessed Mum to bring them here for their summer holiday? And in a tent, for heaven’s sake!

Why couldn’t they have waited till Dad came home from his business trip and gone away somewhere else? Dad would have come up with something more fun than this.

“Just a few quiet days away,” Mum called it.

Boring was what Shannon called it.

Mum always had been the boring one, though. Shannon thought fondly of all the exciting things she got to do with Dad and all the lively places he took them.

She’d lost count of the shows she’d been to, the films they’d seen, the restaurants they’d eaten at, the foreign holidays and surprise weekends away. Dad was great fun.

Mum had always been a bit of a wet blanket. Oh, she usually went along with Dad’s plans, but she often looked tense and irritated for a lot of the time.

Shannon bent to pick up the biggest stone she could find and hurled it angrily into the loch, where it hit the water with a satisfying, deep-sounding splash.

Grudgingly, she threw another stone in. Then another.

A duck quacked crossly from among the reeds by a nearby wooded island and Shannon found herself grinning.

Pausing for a moment to watch the duck and its family squabbling together, Shannon was surprised to realise that some of the angry feelings she’d been harbouring were beginning to ebb away.

She stood still for a moment, looking around. All at once it seemed to her that there was a strange familiarity about this place; the sounds, the smell of the breeze, the light. But how could that be?

“There you are! I wondered where you’d got to.”

Mum’s voice sounded close, but when Shannon turned she was surprised to see that her mother was quite far up the shore. It must have been due to the unusual quietness of this lochside place.

Shannon was used to noise and bustle, the traffic and crowds of city life. They all were. But as she watched Mum picking her way effortlessly over the stony shore, it struck her how relaxed and contented her mother looked.

She realised in that moment that she’d never seen Mum look that way before.

Mum smiled as she reached Shannon’s side and then it clicked. Mum looked peaceful. Yes, that was it. She looked at peace.

“Lovely here, isn’t it?” Mum took a deep breath as she gazed out across the loch. “It’s just as I remember it.” Shannon was surprised. “You’ve been here before?”

“Oh, yes. I used to spend most of my holidays round these parts when I was growing up. I loved it.”

“Really? You and Gran and Gramps?”

Mum nodded.

“And Uncle Dan.”

“In a tent?”

“Yes. We couldn’t afford much more.” Mum laughed easily. “But we always had wonderful holidays touring about in Grampa’s old car. We went everywhere in Scotland – Loch Tay, Skye, Nairn – and down to the Borders, Kelso, Melrose and the like.”

“I didn’t know any of this. It’s so different from the holidays we usually have.”

A shadow crossed Mum’s face but she smiled it away.

“Your dad doesn’t think much of tenting holidays. He enjoys comfort, which is fair enough.” She took another deep breath. “But I always miss the freedom and simplicity of these places.”

“So that’s why . . .?” Shannon halted in midsentence.

“What?”

Shannon hesitated. “What is it?” Mum persisted.

“Well, when we’re away somewhere more . . .”

“More exciting?” Mum offered, amused. Shannon nodded. “Well, you don’t seem very happy. Don’t you enjoy those holidays?”

“Oh, we’ve seen some wonderful places, haven’t we? But over the years, whenever I’ve suggested anything like this . . .” Mum waved her arm expansively “. . . your dad doesn’t want to know.”

She sighed.

“He’s never learned to compromise,” she murmured and Shannon had the feeling that she had almost forgotten she was there.

She coughed gently. “Couldn’t you take separate holidays?”

“I used to, before you were born,” Mum replied. “I even brought you here once or twice when you were tiny. We came here with Gran and Gramps.”

“I don’t remember.” “You were very young.” And yet, Shannon thought, there had been that moment of familiarity.

“But your dad didn’t like me taking you away without him. He said he missed us too much.” Mum smiled. “And I didn’t like to come without you, so we always go to the expensive resorts now. I don’t really mind. They’re nice places.”

“So what’s different now?” Shannon wondered. “Is it because Dad’s had to go away for work? I’m old enough to stay on my own, you know.”

“Almost,” Mum agreed mildly, “but when he said he was being sent away on business, it was the perfect chance for me to come up here for a while. It seemed right to come, with Gran passing away. . .” Her voice broke.

Rather awkwardly, Shannon linked her arm through Mum’s.

“But she’s not suffering any more, is she?” Mum went on. “She’s with Grampa again. I don’t think she ever got over his death.”

“Really?” Shannon was surprised. “But he died years ago.”

“Some bonds can never be broken,” Mum said and patted Shannon’s hand. “I’m sorry you were disappointed that we came here, Shannon. But it was important to me to come back. I didn’t think I could face it on my own.” Shannon smiled shakily. “I’m glad we came,” she said. “Now, you said you were going to teach me to skim stones.”

****

The sun was still low when Guppa led Morach to the other branch of the river on the far side of

the woods.

Morach couldn’t remember ever being here before.

“Where are we going, Guppa?” she asked.

Guppa paused by the shore of the river and gazed upstream.

“This is where I grew up.” “I thought you’d always been on the south side of the woods,” Morach replied. It was strange to think of Guppa living anywhere else.

“The river currents were too strong to live here – and the land was wild and exposed. We travelled across the headland for a more sheltered area.”

“How old were you when you found our home place?”

“About your age.” There was a faraway look in Guppa’s eyes. “I remember the excitement of starting out in a new place. You’re reaching that age now. Ailesh’s bairn will be born soon. That’s the time when everyone moves up a stage. And the oldest move on.”

Morach felt the chill in her heart once again. “Guppa?”

“No fretting, lass. I’m not young any more. I’ve had my allotted time and more.”

“But Guppa, how do you know?” Morach’s voice cracked a little.

Guppa looked out across the river.

“Some things can be felt in the moving of the world. Follow me, lass.”

Guppa led her round a small headland till they found themselves on the shores of a deep, still pool.

“Watch.” The old man bent down and threw a stone far out into the water. “It’s said a person has never truly left this world until the final ripple from his life has disappeared.”

Morach watched the ripple from the stone’s point of contact expanding out, repeating over and over while the echo of the splash rang around the quiet valley.

“You see? Everything has an effect. The fish will swim away from the stone’s impact; they’ll move on, perhaps breed somewhere else. The birds might drop a seed and a new plant will be sown.

“You’ll go back from here and continue to learn how to spin and bake and weave while Eoin learns to chop wood and build and hunt. You’ll both take your place in the community.

“You’ll remember this day and this place where your people came from, and you’ll tell your own bairns and those that are born from them.”

Morach slipped her young hand into Guppa’s. He bestowed one of his rare smiles on her.

“You’re a deep one, Morach. That’s why I wanted to explain these things to you. I know you’ll understand.” He stroked her hair. “Grief is part of the pattern, too. But you mustn’t let grief overwhelm you. Some bonds can never be broken.”

Morach squeezed his beloved old hand wordlessly.

“Here, I want you to have this.” He removed a thin leather thong from around his neck. It was threaded through a small grey stone with a hole bored through the middle.

“This is the first stone necklet my father ever made when he was but your age. He gave it to my mother when they were first joined together. She passed it to me when he died. And now it’s yours to remember me by.”

He placed it over her head and the stone nestled against her skin.

“Who knows how many tales this stone could tell? Or how many people after you will handle it.” “Thank ye, Guppa.” Morach wasn’t afraid any more. Guppa had always known the right thing to say. He knew he didn’t have much time left in this world, but now she knew he’d never really leave her.

All that was left now was to enjoy the day together.

The old man and the young girl stood and watched their world in the light of the morning sun.

****

“You’re getting the hang of it now,” Mum said, laughing.

Shannon felt exhilarated. Who would have thought she could feel so good just by skimming stones across water?

“You know, Mum,” she said, finding a large rock to sit on, “I think Dad would enjoy this type of thing if he gave it a chance.”

“I think so, too,” Mum replied quietly. “I wish he would.”

“Maybe we could all come up for a weekend some time?”

Mum looked doubtful. “I can never persuade him.”

“We could stay in a bed and breakfast instead of a tent?” Shannon suggested and Mum laughed.

“Well, maybe,” she said. “That sounds like a good compromise.”

She strolled away, relaxed and unhurried, pausing now and then to examine a stone or to toss another into the loch.

Shannon sat on the rock, running her hands over the gravel and pebbles, an unfamiliar feeling of contentment pervading her soul.

Glancing down, an unusual stone caught her eye. It was dull and dark grey and was partially embedded in the ground.

Curious, she fell to her knees and scraped the sand and gravel away to try to dislodge it.

She scooped up a little water from a tiny pool on a nearby flat rock and poured it over the stone, scraping carefully around it until she was able to ease it out of the ground and wash away the dirt clinging to it.

She held it in her palm. It was only about three centimetres by two, worn very thin at the edges and with a hole in the middle.

What could it be, she wondered.

As her hand closed around it, she felt an unexplained throb in the atmosphere around her. A couple of birds flew off from a nearby tree as if in fright and a sudden breeze rippled down the water.

“Mum, look what I’ve found!” she called, jumping to her feet, unexpected excitement rising within her.

Mum’s eyes widened when she saw the stone.

“Wow, Shannon, that’s quite a find!”

“What is it, do you think?” “It looks as if it might be an ancient piece of jewellery. People would wear stones like that on a necklet of leather or twine that they spun.”

“So how did it get here? Nobody lives around here.”

“They used to. Centuries ago. They built houses on the water.”

“Here?” Shannon looked around in surprise at the deserted shoreline.

“Yes. Whole families would live together – maybe about twenty people living in one house. They were called crannogs.”

“And were there lots of houses round here?” Mum nodded.

“I think I read that they’d found about twenty on this loch. Most of them are submerged now. This might have been a river instead of a loch at one time. There are lots of small islands on lochs, covered in trees.

“Over the years the water has risen and plants and trees have grown over them. Look – that’s probably one just out there.” She pointed to one such island nearby and Shannon realised she’d noticed a number of them on their journey to the campsite yesterday.

“I didn’t know you knew all that ancient stuff,” Shannon said, gazing at Mum, impressed.

“My dad used to tell me about it. He always made things interesting,” Mum replied. “Anyway, keep that stone safe. That’s a piece of history you’ve found.”

“I bet Dad doesn’t know all that history stuff!” Mum laughed.

“Well, perhaps we can tell him when we phone him tonight. Now, come on, I think it’s time for a cuppa.”

Shannon slipped the stone carefully into her pocket. As she turned for one last look, Mum threw another stone far out into the loch.

The sound of the splash echoed around the shorelines and the morning sun shone down on the water where the ripples went out, and on and on and on.