Haunting Whispers of Highland Waters

By Virginia Crow

There is nothing usual about Zip Cooper.

So it’s little surprise that Zip’s tour of the Highlands with Irene, his wife, is far more than a roadtrip. Both are embarking on an adventure to unite them with the soul of the landscape.

And it is this landscape which will reveal their full potential.

Commissioned by the Spirit of the Highlands creative initiative, Haunting Whispers of Highland Waters is a spiritual journey into the very heart of the Scottish Highlands. This book draws from seven of the Spirit:360 stories to bring to life a "love story between people and places".

• Language: English
• Publisher: Virginia Crow
• Release date: Apr 20, 2022
• ISBN: 9781913182359

Virginia Crow

Virginia grew up in Orkney, using the breath-taking scenery to fuel her imagination and the writing fire within her. Her favourite genres to write are fantasy and historical fiction, sometimes mixing the two together. She enjoys swashbuckling stories such as the Three Musketeers by Alexandre Dumas and is still waiting for a screen adaption that lives up to the book!When she's not writing, Virginia is usually to be found teaching music. She believes wholeheartedly in the power of music, especially as a tool of inspiration.She now lives in the far flung corner of Scotland, soaking in inspiration from the rugged cliffs and miles of sandy beaches.She loves cheese, music and films, but hates mushrooms.

Book preview

87

Haunting Whispers

of

Highland Waters

Virginia Crow

Crowvus

Copyright © 2022 by Virginia Crow

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

without the express written permission of the publisher

except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

First Published in 2022

Crowvus, Stempster House, Westfield, KW14 7QW

ISBN: 978-1-913182-35-9

For comments and questions about

Haunting Whispers of Highland Waters

contact the author directly at [e-mail]

www.crowvus.com

www.stompermcewan.com

Dedication

This book is dedicated to:

Graeme Morgan, who met the Selkies;

Phil Baarda, who protected the pearl;

Graham Bullen, who saw beyond the sunset;

Morag Hughes, whose swimming unveiled adventure;

Steven McKenzie, who knows the magic of the Loch Ness Monster;

This book would never have been written without your stories.

Thank you for the inspiration!

Life Begins at Forty

There was nothing usual about Zip Cooper.

From his name to the wild eyes belying a placid nature, he never quite fitted in anywhere. Anywhere except for with the woman who sat beside him on the wooden bench. They didn't speak. It wasn't that they disliked talking, it was more that they knew what the other was thinking most of the time and, without fail, they were thinking about each other.

Zip looked out as the evening train rattled by. He loved having the tracks at the end of the garden: there was something beautifully transient about the passage of people. The faint lights which grew and raced past before fading completely were the epitome of that ephemerality.

Leaning across, Zip kissed Irene's cheek and watched as she smiled, slotting her hand into his own as she did so. Irene was his world and, when she smiled, he smiled too. She drew in a deep breath of the early summer air and sighed.

Do you suppose they've all had adventures? Or do you think their greatest adventures are yet to come?

I think the greatest adventures are always yet to come, he replied, rising to his feet and offering his hand down. She looked cold, her lips blue and her eyes heavy. We'll see if we can catch the night train.

Oh Zip, she sighed. We never catch any train. We never take a flight or even drive further than Thurso now. I wanted to take you to France. I always have.

I know. Zip helped her to her feet and led her through the garden, his vegetable plot on one side and her flowerbeds on the other. He managed them all now.

Irene had visited the Dordogne as a child and had loved it so much she had always wanted to return there and share it with him. But, on their marriage, they had spent a weekend in Lairg instead, much to the mockery of her family. It had been no secret they disapproved of Zip, finding his ways embarrassing for being different from their own. But Irene wasn't like that. She had loved their honeymoon because he had loved it. That was all the other needed.

They had planned a trip to the Dordogne five years ago, but never taken it. Irene's health was fragile and she had developed a chest infection before they were due to fly. Travel insurance had covered the cost of the holiday, but Zip had always felt the money couldn’t compensate for her disappointment.

I didn't have time to do any shopping while I was in Inverness, Irene said as they reached the door to their little house. But I have managed to source you a present. It's a little bit different, Zip.

She was grinning now as she followed him through to the kitchen. It was his kitchen, there was no doubt of that. 'Pots and pans are in my blood', he would state if she ever challenged him.

I'm sure I'll love it. Zip reached over to the mugs, taking down Irene's, which was decorated with foxgloves, and his own with the black birds painted on. The children in Irene's class had attended workshops with a local artisan and, keen to try her hand at anything she expected from her pupils, Irene had painted a mug for her and her husband while each child made their own.

They did venture out into the darkening night to watch the late train snaking past, Zip just wearing his knitted jumper and corduroy trousers, while Irene had snuggled into an anorak. They sat on their bench waiting for the lights to appear. It was possible to see the train long before it reached them, a pale halo of light as it chugged along the track at the opposite side of Halkirk, before the points were changed at Georgemas and the adventurers journeyed on. Tonight was no different.

The nights were never entirely dark in June. The smudging purple of the set sun gave the gloaming a sense of attitude, silhouetting a gull as it flew townward. The Caithness scenery was quiet and peaceful and, no matter what events the near future held in store, Zip was determined not to lose sight or memory of the beauty of this moment. He had his beloved wife in his magical landscape: life could not get any better than this.

The train was late that night, and Irene had fallen asleep against him before it passed. Zip enjoyed the quiet company, reassured each time he felt Irene's chest expand. Despite Irene's attempt to normalise the events which had meant she had spent ten days in Inverness last month, Zip knew it was indicative of the deterioration of her health. She was stoical about her condition and, for her benefit, Zip had made himself stoical too. But, as the train ran past, the lights zigzagging before his eyes as it faded into the night, he allowed his optimism to sink slightly. Tomorrow was his birthday, but he was already morbidly questioning how many more he would celebrate with his wife.

Irene was disappointed when she woke up to find the train had already passed, but Zip's gentle enthusiasm dissuaded her from any guilt.

The following morning, Zip woke up and stared at the rafters above him. Another year older, another year wiser. This year was different. Life begins at forty, the adage claimed. Perhaps everything which had happened up until now had been a trial for today. Perhaps this year would bring a cure for Irene, a return to the job she had loved, a reconciliation with the family who had been too embarrassed by her choice of husband to visit them. All his hopes were for his wife and he spared none for himself.

Irene was up already, and breakfast was on the table when Zip opened the door at the foot of the stairs, still slipping his arms into the sleeves of his jumper. It wasn't a big house, two rooms downstairs and three upstairs, but it was the house they had fallen in love with, and children had never been an option for the couple. Cystic Fibrosis was hereditary and Irene couldn’t bear the thought of passing it on.

Happy birthday, Zip. She pulled out his chair and waited for him before she sat opposite.

It is, thank you. He took her hand and sighed contentedly. You didn't have to do this, though, he added, gesturing to the large array of food.

I know. If I felt I had to, you know I wouldn't have. I wanted to, Zip. She grinned again, just as she had done last night, with a twinkle of mischief. Besides, it's a very special day.

Zip continued to thank her while they ate, talking of nothing in particular, just enjoying one another's company. He insisted on tidying up, and Irene consented, watching as he worked and pointing out to him that he was meant to be relaxing and spoilt on his birthday. Wafting aside her words in a flurry of washing-up suds, Zip felt his face fall. He had been downstairs for almost an hour, but he had only just noticed what sat beside the door. A bulging suitcase, the one Irene always took with her if they went to visit her family or, more recently, she was spending time in hospital, stared back at him. His jaw dropped as he turned to his wife.

Have you got to go back, Irene? You said you'd always tell me, that you'd never hide it from me.

No, she said, rising to her feet and looking at him with so much sympathy Zip's breath caught in his throat.

You're leaving?

Leaving you? She was incredulous. "Zip, I could never leave you. We're leaving. It's your birthday present. I've booked us five nights away. Five days to explore and adventure. She sighed and shook her head. I've seen you watching the people on the trains, wondering at their adventures, and dreaming of your own. Now we're going to have some."

Where to? Zip asked, her excitement rubbing off on him. The Dordogne?

Different places. The Dordogne was my adventure, Zip. This one is going to be ours. I have a vague memory of your father, and the route he talked about. So, we're following the coast, not as far as the cities, and then we'll cut across and follow the coast again. Just like your father, but without wintering in the city. It's in your blood, Zip. And goodness knows, you've forsaken enough of your own hopes and dreams for me. She held her hand up to silence him as he opened his mouth to disagree with her last statement. I want to share in this with you, Zip. I want to see the Highlands as your father saw them, and as you do too.

But I've got to work, Zip muttered, wishing money wasn't the obstacle it always was.

I've sorted it with Alan. All you have to do is the driving. Otherwise, it's just a case of enjoying yourself. Besides, she added, with that same mischievous smile, we have to go soon because I'm not sure the car's going to last much longer.

Irene would not give away any more about their route and destinations. She had arranged it all and she was going to hold the reins of the itinerary in the same tight and secretive manner she had organised the adventure. They left the house at lunchtime, Zip loading the suitcase into the car boot and willing the old banger to take them as far as necessary.

As he ducked into the driving seat and waited for Irene to lock up the house, he felt strangely nervous. It wasn't fear exactly, it was exhilaration. Travelling was in his blood, and adventure in his heart. But now both were imminent, he felt like a child. This week promised so much and, in his tireless optimism, he knew it would deliver. Perhaps the adage was right: life really did begin at forty.

Day One - 7th June

Pulling out of the driveway and onto the main road was a simple manoeuvre, but it was one which always sparked a thousand dreams of a thousand possibilities. For the first time since they bought the house twenty years earlier, these dreams and possibilities were clearer and brighter. It was not that Zip was dissatisfied with life. He loved its simplicity, but there had always been an age-old pull towards something else. The road, he knew, was a living and breathing thing. It was more than tarmac and white lines; it was the echo of all those who had travelled on it.

Although this way of thinking came naturally to him, it had invited scorn over the years. None more so than from his in-laws, who sought at every hint of disappointment to divide Irene from him. But Irene loved the quirky way his mind worked and, if ever he had questioned her on why this was the case, she would point out that the mind was the governance of individuality and he was the most unique and special individual she had been blessed to know.

Which way? Zip asked, smiling across at Irene who was watching his excited face.

Right, she replied with certainty. We'll be heading west in a bit, but I promised Nigel I'd call in and drop off the key to the hall. It's okay though, Zip. You don't have to come in.

Nigel was an elder in Irene’s church. Initially, Zip had attended with her but, over the years, he had timed her church visits with opportunities to do other things. It hadn't been intentional. It was just that one day he had offered to collect some shopping, and the next week it had been filling the car with petrol. By the end of that year, he was only going on special occasions. Irene had always suspected he had been trying to get out of going, but it was just that life had turned a different way.

Do you want me to? Zip asked, flicking the indicator.

Come inside? Yes, of course I do. I just thought you didn't like Nigel.

Why on earth wouldn't I like him? Zip laughed.

Truth, Zip? I find him one of the most difficult men in the church. He's so sure he's right the whole time. She leaned back in her seat and sighed before she turned her head towards him. But he likes you.

I'll come in if you like. I can drop the key off.

They were driving through the Caithness countryside, far from the world of white lines and wide roads. Here, the roads grew and shrank into swelling passing places, but there was no one else using them. The landscape was rich, green, and open. They were heading almost due north, the sun behind them projecting the shadow of the car onto the road, always a fraction ahead, always unobtainable. There was something quite exciting about the thought of chasing your own shadow, and Zip was lost in these thoughts as he drove on, the car and the driving nothing more than second nature to him.

He slowed down and pulled into one of the passing places, pointing into a fold in the landscape. Irene leaned over and followed Zip's outstretched hand. A hind and two fawns were drinking from the burn which ran at the foot of the slight hill. The mother's ears flicked backwards and forwards, straining to hear any sound which