Page 30 of On The Edge

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The next morning Cat decided to make a picnic, and take Johnny out to the nearby island. She was eager to see the Old Man of Hoy stone stack, famous in her own remembrance for that fateful, magnetic magazine cover, and today was her day off, so they rented a couple of bikes and set off. Cat was delighted she had a basket at the front of hers; she had often loved the idea of having a pretty bike with a basket full of flowers, gliding through quiet country lanes with her dress floating in the spring air. Luckily the day was forecast to be sunny, so Cat wore a dress, and brought a jacket just in case. With food and provisions packed away in backpacks, they both peddled down to the harbour where the small ferry was scheduled to leave. Unlike the large car ferry that came to Orkney, this little boat could only hold about twenty people. They were helped on with their bikes and the boat set off shortly after. Cat looked back at the island they were leaving, its grey buildings set amongst the small hill looked as though they had sprung up there as naturally as the gorse and the scrubby grass. She was really starting to feel at home here. She had never really had this feeling before, of course, with her mum most definitely, but never about a place. Johnny was chatting to one of the ferrymen with interest. Cat smiled; she loved that most about Johnny. He was incredibly social and could talk to anyone. It was one of his best qualities. Cat mused awhile as she watched the waves billow from the back of the boat. Her mind wandered onto Patrick; his smile, and his kiss. She thought of his last song at the gig, and how it had transported her. Goosebumps prickled up and down her arms. She hoped, in a small hidden corner of her chest, that he thought of her the way she thought of him.

The sailing was short and choppy, this time Cat enjoyed the rough sea, being outside in the salty air helped. Maybe Patrick was right, you just needed practice? The ferryboat eased into the harbour of the island of Hoy, the anchor was thrown, and the people jumped onto the pier, assisted by the ferrymen.

“This is so rustic, I love it,” Johnny said with quiet excitement before it was his turn to hop off, with a helping hand from the young man he had chatted to earlier.

Without any dilly-dallying, they quickly mounted their bikes and headed into the glen that loomed before them. The sun, high in the blue cloudless sky, shone so brightly that Cat and Johnny gladly took off their jumpers and glided through quiet roads that lead them through an empty landscape.

Another mile or so passed and Cat spotted with relief a place they could take a breather. They laid down their bikes at the side of the road, and walked out to a very large boulder set in the heather.

“It’s a stone...?” Johnny stated gingerly.

“Johnny this is incredible!” Cat enthused while she walked around the impressive boulder. “It’s more than a stone, it’s a tomb! Look how smooth the surface is.” She peered into the centre of the rock, which was hollowed out. “Just think - this was done before the Iron Age, before machinery or modern equipment existed. How did they do it?” She had read up on the local folklore; legends of dwarves and giants on the island, all connected to this rock. She stood still and looked up at the stone in wonder. “It’s just magical”.

Johnny couldn’t help but be charmed by Cat’s love of the world. She had a childlike innocence sometimes that he loved about her. She always saw beauty, even at times, and within things, where others didn’t. He rubbed her shoulder affectionately, and smiled at her gently.

After they enjoyed a brief cup of tea and a biscuit, Cat pulled out her old camera and started taking photos. Johnny groaned inwardly as he waited until Cat had captured the many variations of the stone that she alone could see, including a photo of her beside the stone, and finally one of Johnny. To Johnny’s relief they then returned to their bikes and continued on their journey until they came into a village, or rather more of a hamlet - several houses dotted in a straggling cluster on the hillside. They could see the ocean at the end of the road, and a pathway leading up the hill, winding around the little cottages and moving upwards and further beyond.

“That’s our path!” Cat pointed breathlessly, and they made their way up the steep hillside.

Cat stood near the cliff edge, overlooking the wild sea and the Old Man of Hoy sea stack, which stood majestically with the waves crashing against it down below. She breathed in deeply and began to feel emotional. If it hadn’t been for the Old Man of Hoy on the front cover of that magazine, in the dreary newsagents in Glasgow, she might still be scraping by with Dave, and Sunnyskies, and no paints or sketchbooks in sight. Something had captured her imagination seeing the ancient sea stack. She had never heard of it before that day, but looking at it now conjured up familiar feelings; there was something about it that seemed so well-known...

“You really shouldn’t stand that close to the edge!” Johnny called from an overly-safe distance.

“I’m hardly near the edge Johnny! I think you’re being a bit dramatic!” Cat dismissed her friend and returned back to the spectacular view before her. She opened up her bag and rooted around for her camera again; turning to Johnny to get him to take a photo she suddenly lost her footing and stood on some uneven rocks. Cat gasped, and in a split second she lost her balance and fell to the ground. Her ankle gave a crunching noise as she collapsed onto her arms, trying to protect herself from the fall. She lay there for a few seconds until the stabbing pain in her right ankle throbbed too intensely to ignore.

“Ow!” she yelped, as Johnny reached her.

“You silly girl, what were you doing?”

Tears sprang uncontrollably to Cat’s eyes. “I’m hurt, I don’t need you to call me stupid too!”

“I didn’t call you stupid, I said silly!” Johnny protested.

“Ow!”

“Well, if you'd been any closer to the edge you would’ve fallen into the ocean!” Johnny berated Cat once more, then looking at her trembling lip, stopped himself from saying anything more. “I’m sorry, you just don’t listen sometimes Cat!”

“Ow!” came the cry again as Johnny touched her ankle.

“Jesus Christ, Cat!” Johnny looked around wildly for anybody or anything nearby. Except from the one mountain hare they saw earlier, however, they were completely alone. What was more, the clouds above them had turned an oppressive dark hue that didn’t fill Johnny with much optimism. He packed their bags and slung them over his shoulders before lifting up Cat in his arms.

“Jesus, Cat! How much do you weigh?” Johnny almost buckled under her weight.

“Hey! I’m not overweight, I’ve been busy... and... not eating right!” Cat cursed the caramel slices at the café, and shed a few more tears at the thought of being fat and a cripple.

“You’re lucky I lift weights at the gym,” Johnny joked but it was lost on Cat who looked at the path downhill before them. Johnny looked in the same direction. “I could roll you down hill if that suits you better?”

Cat couldn’t help but give the tiniest laugh through her tears. “You bastard... just start walking!”

Wobbling down the steep hill to the sparsely dotted houses, Cat yelped along the way distracted by her pain. She had not noticed that a man was approaching them with his walking stick.

“Are you alright?” came a loud voice to their left. The man appeared to be in his sixties, in a yellow waterproof jacket, and sporting a scraggly white mop of hair and a white beard. He appraised them with a wild look in his eyes, or so Cat thought.

“She took a fall up the hill,” Johnny yelled out over the wind that had now picked up.

“Come down to my house”, called the newcomer, and he gestured towards a grass roof house near the beach ahead.