A Very Distant Shore Read online

  She jumped over the white surf at the edge of the pure sand, straight in, ankle deep. Then she yelled out loud. It was completely freezing, like plunging your feet into a bowl of ice.

  ‘Argh!’ she yelled as the dogs wagged their tails. ‘You lied to me! You told me this was going to be good!’

  She chased and splashed them in the clear water, and laughed as they frolicked around her. Her feet were turning blue, but the sun felt warmer on her neck and shoulders as she ran up and down the surf.

  She hardly noticed another dog come to join them. Then she recognised the normally calm bundle of fur as Mrs Laird’s spoiled Scottie dog, and she turned round to say hello.

  He was far closer than she’d expected. In fact, he was standing right there, and she was incredibly embarrassed that he’d seen her jumping up and down, almost dancing, thinking she was alone.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she said. ‘Um. Dr Hassan. Hello.’

  He barely turned to look at her, and she felt instantly worse. His large brown eyes were fixed on the horizon.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘Sorry. I was walking Mrs Laird’s dog.’

  But he wasn’t, she thought. He’d been standing still, staring out to sea.

  ‘Waiting for someone?’ she asked, as a joke, then immediately wished she hadn’t.

  ‘Yes,’ said Saif. He looked embarrassed, as if he’d said something he shouldn’t have.

  There was another one of those awkward pauses.

  ‘So how are you?’ he asked. ‘You seem better.’

  Lorna bit her lip. She was annoyed with him for noticing.

  ‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Well.’

  ‘You know, if you take sleeping pills, it makes you very… what is the word? Groggy. It makes you very groggy in the morning.’

  ‘You’re not at work,’ said Lorna suddenly, half smiling at him. He looked so serious standing there. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘It’s a beautiful day. Come in the water.’

  He blinked at her in the sunshine.

  ‘You are serious?’

  ‘It’s lovely!’

  She tried kicking a few drops in his direction. He leapt back, and she was worried she’d upset him in some odd way.

  Then the most surprising thing happened. He laughed.

  ‘That is… that is FREEZING!’ he said.

  ‘Maybe you’re too soft,’ she said, and he smiled again. She’d never seen him smile; she hadn’t thought he could.

  The next thing she knew, he’d kicked off the boots he was wearing and had run straight into the chilly surf.

  Saif hardly knew what he was doing. It was her laughing face. It was finding out that someone had actually taken his advice and it had worked. It was the fresh new early-summer warmth in the air. It was the sense, suddenly, of the world renewing.

  It hadn’t been the same where he’d grown up. There were heavy-flowering plants in the late summer. Many, like bougainvillea, filled courtyards with colour. And there were oranges and lemons, of course. But not this gradual greening of the land, this softening of the island from something barren and wild and strange. Every day the shades became deeper and gentler. At first he’d barely been aware of the new leaves, the grass beginning to kick over his shoes. Now, the world had woken up without him noticing.

  Part of him hated the changing of the seasons, which was so marked here. The light was astonishing. He felt further away with every longer evening. Time was pushing him ahead in a rush, carrying him away from everything he knew. But he couldn’t regret that on a morning like today, with a smiling girl splashing in the water. He didn’t want to be so gloomy all the time. He had loved growing up in multi-cultural, relaxed Beirut, with all its dangers. He had adored his time at medical school. He had married for love, and had headed back to settle in sleepy, devout Damascus, land of his forefathers. And then…

  Oh, how he missed the man he had once been.

  Now he found himself leaping about in freezing cold water, thousands of miles from home, grinning and trying to avoid three panting dogs. He splashed at Lorna, happy to see her outdoors and looking a million times better than she had in his surgery. She splashed back, barely feeling the cold as the sun on her back rose high in the sky and promised the most beautiful of days. She managed to drench him and he yelled back, laughing, and they came to a halt.

  Lorna found she was out of breath.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ she said. ‘I couldn’t resist.’

  ‘You are not in the least bit sorry,’ he said, his lips twitching. ‘Is this a tradition of these islands?’

  ‘Consider yourself baptised,’ said Lorna, then paused, stepping out of the surf. ‘Um, sorry.’

  Saif shook his head.

  ‘Do not worry, Miss MacLeod,’ he said. ‘I am from Damascus. We’re practically heathens as it is.’

  He shook some of the water from his hair.

  ‘You definitely seem better,’ he said, glancing at her. Her cheeks were flushed pink.

  ‘So do you,’ she replied cheekily, and watched as he blinked.

  ‘I discharge you from being my patient,’ he said.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Lorna. ‘And call me Lorna.’

  ‘Saif,’ said Saif gravely, and she grinned.

  Then, suddenly, his eyes caught the horizon again, and it was like shutters coming down. And now she understood. He was not walking. He was waiting.

  They headed slowly back up the soft white sand, not quite together.

  ‘Your family…’ she started, but he cut her off with a quick shake of his head. There was a pause.

  ‘Well, I’d better go,’ she said. ‘Get Dad’s breakfast.’

  ‘It was nice to see you,’ he said. ‘Although obviously now I am going to go down with pleurisy.’

  ‘You can fix it by not doing anything and going to bed at nine p.m.,’ said Lorna cheekily.

  ‘Hmm,’ he said, his mouth lifting a little. They headed off in separate directions, as the dogs took a little longer to say goodbye.

  Chapter 20

  After that, it was surprising how many mornings they would meet, and paddle, sometimes. But only when the weather was clear. Lorna didn’t care about the weather, but Saif still disliked constant rain and tended to stay away. They would talk a little, of this and that. Lorna spoke a lot about Mure, and what it was like. And she taught him a little Gaelic, which greatly surprised his patients.

  Saif did not talk quite so much. Or rather, he realised how much he had missed simple friendship, and he was a good listener. He was interested in what she had to say, and would respond. But he said nothing about how he had arrived here, or what it had been like. He would talk a little about Damascus, its pretty squares and late-night eating – he found it odd that the little restaurant by the harbour stopped serving at 8 p.m. He was used to eating dinner at eleven. He liked, too, to talk about his carefree student days in Beirut.

  But he mentioned nobody: not his parents, not brothers or sisters, not a wife. He wore no ring, but Lorna knew that didn’t mean anything.

  It was one hour, right at the beginning of their busy days. It was the only moment when, for doctor and teacher, there weren’t a million claims on their time and attention. A time when there were no demanding, cranky parents; overworked colleagues; patients who were horribly sick or worried. It was simple time to themselves, out of the rush of everything that was going on in their lives. Just the clear sky, the herons dipping their long necks in the water. One morning a group of fat seals came up to sunbathe by the edge of the harbour.

  It felt to Lorna like a breathing space; a break; a small piece of grace. That was all it was, she told herself sternly. Even on the mornings when she wasn’t quite sure she believed it herself.

  Chapter 21

  ‘Of course you’re completely bonkers,’ said her best friend Flora. They were sitting in the snug bar of the Harbour Rest, an ancient wooden pub next to the fishing boats. The place still smelled of brine and pipe tobacco a decade after the smoking ban.

&nbs
p; ‘I’m not bonkers,’ said Lorna. ‘I’m just being friendly.’

  Her chum gave her a long, deep look. Not much got past Flora, who’d lived in London for seven years before coming home, and saw herself as pretty street-smart.

  ‘Friendly like a FOX,’ she said.

  ‘It’s not like that,’ said Lorna.

  And it wasn’t. Was it? They talked about little things. Or rather she talked mostly and he seemed happy to listen.

  ‘So he just looks lovely and keeps his mouth shut, and he’s like totally a doctor and everything?’ said Flora. ‘I hope you realise he sounds completely made up.’

  ‘I’m not sure he understands half of what I’m saying,’ said Lorna ‘But I just need someone to say it to. Do you know what I mean?’

  ‘You can say it to me,’ said Flora, who had problems of her own.

  ‘Well, I can’t, can I,’ said Lorna. ‘The moment I set foot in your farmhouse I’m either run over, yelled at or set to work.’

  ‘It is a little busy,’ said Flora.

  There was a pause while they sipped what the Harbour Rest called a cappuccino. Lorna waited for Flora to say how much better the coffee was in London, which Flora duly did, and then they could move on.

  ‘So do you… do you fancy him?’

  ‘I’m not twelve!’ said Lorna crossly.

  ‘So that means yes.’

  ‘It does not!’

  ‘It so does!’

  Lorna shook her head forcefully.

  ‘Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. He doesn’t… he doesn’t talk about his family at all. He might have a wife out there.’

  ‘He might not.’

  ‘Children… who knows?’

  ‘You could ask.’

  ‘I don’t want to.’

  ‘Because you fancy him so much.’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

  ‘Ooooh!’

  Chapter 22

  He knew he could ask Lorna. She might know people, or be able to find something… or it might help just to tell her. She was so kind, so caring. But selfishly, he treasured what he’d been doing for days. He valued the hell he waded through every day, with no success. The Red Crescent had nothing. Doctors Without Borders had nothing. Not a word. It was as if they had never been there. As if their existence had been blanked out. And he refused to believe it.

  He spoke endlessly to voluntary groups; to consulates; to any friends who were still there with any kind of phone access at all, although there were fewer and fewer of them. Barely anyone who could find a way out was still there. He knew that if anything could be done, if anyone could be found, the news would appear on his phone first, if it was to appear at all.

  And even if, by some miracle, they reached Scotland without telling him, without anyone knowing that they had found him, they would catch the ferry from Oban like everyone else. It would arrive on time just as it did every single day. How else would you cross such a dangerous body of water? You couldn’t.

  He knew that Jeannie and the others in the village thought him odd, rude. Though he just thought he was being organised. He didn’t hang around and chit-chat. That was for sure. He also didn’t like the instant coffee Jeannie made for him, though she meant it kindly.

  He was being selfish, not telling Lorna about his past, his life. These early mornings were the only time he felt like a normal person all day.

  Chapter 23

  ‘You’re coming!’

  Saif was only half listening, but he turned away when he heard that. There was a minor heatwave. It had taken everyone by surprise, but it was perfect because they had the soft white sand warm beneath their bare feet. The tourists hadn’t had the chance to scramble to the beaches yet, or even get away. It felt like a gift, the sun giving warmth before the official start of summer.

  The dogs didn’t like it at all. They stayed in the water or panted in the shade. They came from generations of dogs who could sleep in a snowstorm, hardy and stalwart.

  ‘What?’ he said.

  Lorna was wearing a Breton top and cropped jeans. It was Saturday morning. She’d worked long and hard at her marking the previous evening in the hope that she could have a weekend off, whatever that might look like. Her father was sleepy, coming to the end of his treatment. Lorna was hoping this was a sign that he was getting better. Whenever the animals on the farm got sick, sleep was the best thing for them.

  So she was carefree this morning, feeling the joy of an empty day ahead without marking or hospital appointments or too many chores. And tonight was the village ceilidh, the Gaelic dance which happened once a month and which everyone had to go to. There wasn’t really any option. Ollie the vet would dance with old Mrs Kelpie from the sweetshop. Ewan the policeman would make sure everyone got home, more or less, afterwards. And the band were incredible.

  ‘Coming to what?’

  ‘It’s the May dance!’ Lorna said. But his face remained blank. ‘Dancing. You can dance, can’t you?’

  Saif frowned.

  ‘No.’

  ‘Well, everyone has to go. It supports the hotel out of season, and the band and the community and, well, basically everything.’

  ‘This sounds quite a lot like moral blackmail.’

  ‘Yup,’ said Lorna cheerfully, throwing Milou a stick, which he brought back gracefully.

  ‘Do I have to wear a skirt thing?’

  ‘SAIF! You’ve been here for AGES! You LIVE HERE! Deal with it, you big racist! It’s not a skirt.’

  Saif smiled at that.

  ‘Aye, all right.’

  ‘Did you just say “aye”?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘You did! You said “aye” when you meant “yes”.’

  ‘I’m sure I didn’t.’

  ‘I think you did!’

  There was a pause.

  ‘You could try —’

  ‘I don’t want any haggis.’

  ‘I’m just saying I think you should try it.’

  ‘No.’

  They walked on, both enjoying the feel of the sun on their backs.

  ‘You’re coming.’

  ‘I’m not wearing a sk — kilt thing.’

  ‘Kilt. It’s called a kilt. Not a kilt thing.’

  ‘Well.’

  ‘You don’t have to. Just wear something comfortable for dancing. Do you have anything comfortable? You dress like Niles from Frasier.’

  ‘I don’t know who that is.’

  ‘That’s probably just as well. Look. It doesn’t matter what you wear.’ She glanced at him. ‘You should come, you know. You don’t want people thinking you’re weird.’