Globusz^® Publishing 

As I had hoped, people were quick to set up new relationships. With a relatively small island few matters of interest and even those of little significance could be kept entirely undisclosed. Many thrived on knowing the minutia of every happening. It was not to be criticised. This was our home and, like any family home, everyone knew what was going on.

“Colleen, I’m James, I was with your dad on the advance party that came to the island.”

“Yes, he told me about you. He said you worked hard.”

“It was very hard work but the evening get-together was fantastic. Your dad was always telling jokes and we laughed most of the nights away.”

“He’s always been good fun. He makes everybody laugh and people tell me he’s a good organiser.”

“He certainly put a lot of work in beforehand to ensure that we all knew what to do when we got here, but he didn’t tell me you had a baby.”

“He hasn’t quite got used to the idea yet, it was all a bit of a surprise.”

“You’re here on your own then.”

“Yes, well apart from Mum, Dad and my brother Shaun, and of course baby Jim.”

“He seems very perky, always looking around and waving his arms about.”

“He’s quite good and I’m a doting Mum.”

“His dad didn’t want to come then?”

“No chance. He left the country soon after he knew I was pregnant. How about you, did you give up a job to come here?”

“In a way I did. I had just been offered a job with the police force but opted for this instead.”

“I wonder how it will turn out for us all. It’s one thing while there is so much to do but it may be different when it all settles down.”

“I feel confident that it will work out all right, I don’t think it depends so much on the work we are doing, I believe it depends more on the people as Jim senior says, it’s down to commitment and how we get along with each other.”

“Do you think you could still be here in ten years time?”

“You can’t say can you? My situation was that I was desperate for something different from the usual, I saw that I could make a new start out here, perhaps make new friends and start afresh.”

“Have you met and made any new friends yet?”

“Well I’ve met you and little Jim haven’t I? And I’m meeting people all the time as the work goes on. If it’s their own croft that we are working on they keep popping round and others are always curious about what is going on. I suppose that after a few weeks everybody will have met everybody else and so we will all become friends really, but I expect it will settle down to a smaller circle for each of us. What about you, you’re not going to school are you? Will you be happy here?”

“I can’t see very far into the future but I’m very happy here now. I wanted to spend, as much time as I could with Jim, I couldn’t do that with school as well. It’s a good place to bring him up and like you I wanted a change. Mum and Dad were very supportive but I was getting a bit fed up with the constant lectures about children being born out of wedlock, particularly when we went back to our family in Ireland.”

“Are you Catholic then?”

“I was brought up as Catholic but I am not a practising believer. With all the troubles in Ireland it really turned me against religion in general.”

“Have you had a look around the island yet?”

“Not really, just around the village, you know. I can’t get very far with the baby.”

“We will have to put that right, you can’t stay here and not know what’s around. Tell you what I’ve got a rucksack, we’ll try and adapt it so that I can carry Jim on my back and then I’ll show you round. You’ll love it.”

Kate wandered down to the harbour to find Angus. She’d been helping with the farm accounts for Gerry when Philip called in wanting to know if she had asked Angus for his expenses. She had tried once before without any success and wasn’t keen to keep badgering him. Nevertheless she thought she would have one last try.

As she caught sight of the Island Queen moored at the harbour she thought how much happier she felt now than when she had been working in the busy office in Lancashire. She felt quite light-hearted; the rest of the afternoon was hers to do, as she liked.

As she walked nearer the harbour she spotted Angus on the deck of the boat carrying a tin of paint

“Hi Angus, can I come aboard?”

“Aye of course. How can I help you?”

I’m needing your expenses claim, the treasurer wants to get up to date with his accounts.”

“You know Kate, I’m not keen charging anyone, I’m not used to doing any paper work. I’ve no need to claim anything, really I haven’t.”

“I know, you haven’t claimed a single penny, but it must have cost a fortune for all the diesel you used ferrying back and forth for days on end. You have been doing it constantly over recent weeks and there’s all the wear and tear on the boat surely there are maintenance costs as well?”

“But I enjoyed doing it. It’s my contribution.”

“Tell me, what are you doing this afternoon?”

“Well I was going to spend a little time painting the rails on the boat.”

“Can I give you a hand? While we do the painting, you could tell me how you go about things, where and how you get the fuel and I’ll put it all down on paper and give it in for you?”

“You’re welcome to help me with the painting, but I’ll not be telling you what it has all cost.”

“It’s not me Angus, it’s the committee who want to know, I’m sure they will all be very thankful to you for your generosity. I’d like to help with your painting anyway. I prefer to be out of doors whenever possible.”

“Right, lets get to work then.”

“Fine”— agreed Kate. “I can’t think of a better way to spend a warm afternoon.”

After the main activity of the lunchtime meal and the washing up, Edith, Madge and Rene would regularly sit with their own snacks and chat away for an hour or so. Edith was more of a quiet individual whereas Madge and Rene, being more outgoing soon had her talking.

“So, tell us about yourself”— Rene suggested. “Were you born on Skye and did you always live there?” The two women were soon captivated.

“Well yes, I was born on the Isle of Skye in the 1930’s and, as a very young girl, I was taken to India with my mother and father, who was in the Diplomatic Service. It was just before the riots in 1947. We lived at first in Lahore, the capital city of the Punjab, but eventually it was decided that we should move to Dehi. It was a distance of some 300 miles, a train journey that had for some time been recognised as a dangerous undertaking lasting several days. Trains generally had been the target for pillage and murder but we did not have a choice for my father’s work was paramount. So we set off.

“Lahore was in a state of turmoil with many of the Moslems fleeing to Pakistan, while we joined the Hindus who were escaping to Delhi. I was probably no more than ten years old at the time but I do recall that the anxiety of my parents at the time was transmitted to me. I had been in Lahore long enough to be able to mix with some of the Indian children with whom I enjoyed playing but I was always aware that my parents did not wholly approve. I mixed well with them and had been amongst them long enough to have a good knowledge of the language. I had become used to the hot and humid weather, the smells and the close proximity of people, but I had never experienced anything so unpleasant as that journey. It was stifling in the extreme with overcrowded conditions and the smell of urine a constant companion.

“Suddenly we slowed to a noisy stop. It might have been a station but as we juddered to a halt there was the terrific noise of shouting and gunfire. My father looked out of the open window and saw an angry mob bearing down on the train. He must have known that our lives were in danger. He quickly closed the window, ensured that the door was jammed shut and shouted for everyone to keep calm. There followed more gunfire and a banging and crashing at the carriage door. My mother bundled me under the seat and several passengers sat above me; many were also standing. I could not see much but I could hear the crying and wailing of those around. The door burst open and an enraged Indian wielding a huge knife forced himself into the carriage. Peeping though the array of legs in front of me, I heard and saw bodies sinking to the floor and the colour red. I lay still. The panic and noise continued for ages. My eyes were closed tight but, after a while I could hear shouting from the distance and all within the carriage became quiet. It was a deathly silence, but interspersed with low moans, groans and the odd cry for help.

“I lay rigidly still for a long time before I opened my eyes and, with some difficulty climbed out over my mother’s body. She was covered in blood. I slipped over and past several other blood-soaked bodies. My father lay at an awkward angle near the door, two horrible gashes across his head, and one still oozing blood. I knew everyone in the carriage was dead, I sensed that I must leave them and get away as quickly as I could.

“I jumped down to the ground, wrenching my arm as I released my hold on the carriage door. I ran, walked and stumbled away from the nightmare scene of carnage. No one stopped me and I did not stop until I felt I was safe. Night fell and I climbed into a ditch and slept the night through beside a field of maize.

“When I awoke I did not know what to do. For two whole days I wandered aimlessly, then as I walked towards a road the thought came to me that we had been heading for Delhi and somewhere there, perhaps, I could find someone to help me. I did not know how far it was or how I could get there.

I had picked up more than sufficient words of Hindi to make myself understood, so when I saw an Indian driving a bullock cart along the dusty road I asked him how far it was to Delhi. I gathered it was a very long way. He looked me over and saw my poor and dishevelled state and asked if I was hungry. I was and he gave me a few scraps, which I was glad to stuff into my mouth. “You should come with me”— he said. “My brother Sanjay works the land and will give you shelter for the night.” I went with him and his brother and his wife showed me somewhere I could sleep and fed me the next day.”

“My goodness, how terrible, and you so young. Did you ever get to Delhi?”— Madge enquired.

“Yes but not directly. I virtually became a slave around their home. Sanjay's wife Roop was not too bad but she had a violent temper and worked me very hard. Later they got me working at one of the lowest jobs there could be, a sweeper on the dusty tracks nearby. It earned just a few rupees each day that I had to hand over to the family to pay for my keep. As I grew older one of the younger brothers, Rajiv, began to abuse me. At first he would hit me if I did not do what he wanted but later he took me out to the fields and raped me. It was not the only time; I became so scared when he told me he would kill me if I ever told anyone.

“It was some years before I was able to turn my mind to what I could do for myself. It was beginning to dawn on me that although I lived and acted as an Indian I was in fact different. My skin had, over the years tanned to such an extent that although I did not look totally Indian I would not easily be recognised as English either. My thoughts were that I should try to reach Delhi. That was where my mother and father were taking me before they were killed. Perhaps I could find where we were going to live and find someone there who could help.

“While sweeping I also resorted to some begging. It was the instinct to survive. I would target the few more prosperous-looking Indians and gained a few additional rupees that I hid at a secret place away from the family. I noticed children on their way to and from school and the sight of them jogged my mind to the fact that I had one above everybody I knew in India. It was that I could speak English. I mulled this over and over for weeks on end and then suggested to Sanjay and his wife Roop that if I could teach English at the school I could earn them more money. They immediately showed interest and did not dismiss the idea, the thought of any additional money was too great for them to ignore.

“It was perhaps six months later when Sanjay and Roop told me that they had arranged for me to teach English at the school for two mornings each week and that I was to give all my earnings to them. Petrified to confront them I argued that unless they allowed me some of the money for myself I would not do it. There was a great argument but I felt if I persisted I would get my way, reasoning that although they could beat me, they could not risk not having the extra money for themselves. It was agreed and although they took the lion’s share of my earnings, I hoarded the little money that came my way, telling them that I used it to buy drinks and extra food from the vendors who regularly plied the track.

“One day I decided that the time had come to carry out my plan. I would have to run away from these people and find my way to Delhi. I chose a day when full weeks money from the school was paid to me and this, together with my other hidden savings was pocketed and I just walked away. I guessed that I would not be missed until the following day. I had never mentioned any desire to go to Delhi so the family would not know in which direction I was heading. I walked for two days off the roads until I was able to find a busy road and a bus that was heading to the capital. But after a stifling journey, on arrival in the big city I was at a loss to know what to do next. I slept rough for two nights and then found a corner between two rickety buildings in a shanty town amid a cluster of mud-built and red, rusty, corrugated, iron-roofed shacks. My questions to any likely person about where diplomats could be living had been too vague and the responses were a series of blank faces. Nobody really knew what I was talking about and most regarded me as a crank.

“I decided my approach to the problem had been quite wrong and I should therefore change my tactics. My best plan would be to seek out English-speaking people who might know about these things. I went to the great Red Fort, where I found that tourists would be either arriving or waiting for a return journey to their hotel in air-conditioned coaches. Sometimes I found them just wandering around the city. Generally people were very wary of me, I did not know how pitiful, unkempt and objectionable I might have appeared, and I had not once seen my image in a mirror. The first couple were anxious to be rid of me and seek the safety of their coach and this was repeated many times. However, I did not despair, I realised that it would take time and my persistence would eventually lead to something.”

“We’re fascinated” — said Rene. “Have a breather and let me make you a cup of tea. We had no idea about your past. Are you happy to carry on talking?”

“Yes of course if you’re really interested.”

“Of course we are. What happened next?”

“Well, I approached a couple who did not hurry to get away. Realising that I was not actually begging, they asked me to repeat what I had said. I told them that I was trying to find the area in Delhi where diplomats lived. They didn’t know the place but they said I should ask at the police station or go to the British High Commission.

“I wasn’t keen on the police station because I thought I might be sent back to where I had just run away from. However their mention of the British High Commission really focused my mind. I asked several other tourists and at last someone was able to give me clear directions.

“It was evening when I arrived and the building was closed. Tired out, but not despondent I returned to my shack for the night. Back at the High Commission in the morning, I could not, at first, make anyone understand what I wanted. It was not until a fair-haired young man came over and asked if he could help, that I sensed I could make progress. I told him that no one would let me in. He, like others, thought I was Indian and said: “Why do you want the British High Commission?” We sat on the pavement and I related the story of how I came to be in Delhi and be in this position without a passport. “Oh my God, you’re a non-person”— he gasped when I had finished. “You do need help. Let’s see what I can do. By the way, what’s your name?” “Edith” — I answered. “Edith Curtis.” “Well, my name is Gary, now keep with me.”

We walked up to the gate and inside we joined a queue, which moved slowly forward until we came to a desk. Gary explained my situation to the clerk. The details took rather a long to time to record and were complicated because I had no means of identification. Gary decided to become more insistent and demanded to meet with another official.

“It was an enormous building, the biggest I had even been inside. We were shown into another pleasantly decorated room where cool air was circulating. We were introduced to a very smart and well-dressed man who asked me to tell my story from the beginning. It took a long while but he was patient and only interrupted on a few occasions to clarify some of the details.

“When I had finished he said that he was aware of the attack on the Lahore to Delhi train all those years back. “One hundred and twenty people were butchered on that train”— he said. “You were lucky to survive. You should be listed as one of the missing persons even though you were a child at the time. If that is so I will be able to issue you with a passport fairly easily. Come back tomorrow when I may have made some progress.”

We walked outside into the hot afternoon sun. Gary asked about where I was living and when I told him, he asked if I would prefer to come back to the guesthouse where he was staying. He was travelling overland from Australia, where he had worked on a farm for a year,

I took up his offer and was soon enjoying the most wonderful bath with hot water that I could ever remember experiencing. We then had a meal and that also was the most appetising meal that I had ever eaten. I learned that he was from Bristol in England and coming back to England. “You look better now— he said when I returned — and totally different. But we must go and get some clothes for you, those rags are not going to last another day.”

We went out and he paid for everything. I offered to repay him but he would not hear of it. I felt a new person and was so grateful. I slept the deepest sleep I could remember and woke to think how my life was changing. Gary was my lifeline and I realised that I had been very lucky to meet him and then for him to then offer his help.

“We returned to the High Commission together and I was reintroduced to Mr Goddard with whom we had spoken the day before. He greeted us with a wide smile and said that everything was in order. All I needed to do was go into another room to have my photograph taken, come back sign a few forms and he could then issue a passport. It only took half an hour. With my passport, I became a real person with an identity again.

“So you came home to Skye. Did you have enough money for the airfare? Madge enquired.

“No, not straight away, it was not quite like that. I travelled overland with Gary. The journey was not without its own excitement. We either hitchhiked or walked all the way. Gary wanted to meet people in their own villages in different countries along the way and of course you do not meet anyone like that in an aeroplane. It took us almost a year.

“Ironically our route took us first back to Lahore where I was tempted to look at our lodging where I was with my mother and father. It was an imposing house with grounds that had given me great pleasure as a child. I was allowed to roam as I wished. The garden was now somewhat overgrown and the house had new owners. I was temporally overcome with the nostalgia of those past times and asked Gary to take a photograph of the house and garden as a reminder of my early happy days.

“We moved on and over the Khyber Pass to Afghanistan, Iran, Iraq, Jordan, Syria, Turkey and then from Asia into Europe. I remember so many of the sights, but when on the cross channel ferry to England, I first saw clearly the white cliffs of Dover; I was overcome with the pleasure of arriving home. Gary was very understanding and took me to meet his parents in Bristol where there was a great homecoming celebration for him.

“I applied for an office job with the local council, and gradually made my way in the organisation until I became a secretary. I then moved on to a large international transport company.”

“So you didn’t get married then? We were thinking that a romance would blossom for you with Garry.”

“No sorry, but we did keep in touch. He married a lovely girl from Lowestoft; but it failed after their children had grown up. We still keep in contact with one another and he never remarried. Now that Robert has fixed me up with a laptop computer we exchange e-mails on a regular basis. In fact he has suggested that he may even visit me up here.”

“That’s wonderful. Wouldn’t it be great if you got together again? You would have so many memories to exchange?”

“Yes I would like that.”

“Well thanks for telling us your life story. You know, you should write a book about your experiences, it would make an exciting novel for anyone to read.”

“I’ll see, I did start writing my autobiography but never got round to continuing with it.”

“You should, now that you have the computer, it will be that much easier.” Then remembering that they were supposed to be preparing the evening meal, Madge gathered up the teacups to wash up and said: “But we’d better check up what we are cooking for tonight, girls, before it’s too late.”

Things were now just about settling down from those early days of finding out how to live on the island with everything so new. Some friendships were developing, apart from the obvious close working relationships of the builders, the farmers, the canteen staff and the school. The children all quickly made friends when they started school. Colleen had not attended regularly at school as she had the baby and appeared to be all of a tease, was when in the company of James who, in his turn, became rather red-faced and shy when confronted with the suggestion that he had already made a girl friend. Kate had been asked by Angus to go out on the odd fishing venture in the Island Queen, and they seemed to get along very happily in each other’s company. Alice had been asked by Ken to assist with the filming and was now often to be found wielding a video camera, her pleasant manner giving her access to almost any situation. It turned out that our solicitor, Philip played the flute and other wind instruments quite professionally, so at times when he was not busy, he could be found unsurprisingly in the company of Belinda. Giles, although still very weak, was recovering well from his ordeal in hospital and was seen as a jovial uncle to all the children who often gravitated towards him individually or in a group, knowing that it was likely they would come away with some unusual ‘goody’.