Rionnagan Gaoil (Stars of Love) by David Hutchison
Robert the fish merchant was waiting as usual as I unlocked the entrance to the Wayfarer’s bar.
‘You’re late,’ he said.
I looked at my watch.
‘Says eleven on my watch.’
‘Well it’s slow then,’ grumbled Robert.
I went behind the counter. Robert sat on ‘his’ stool.
‘The usual?’
Robert nodded.
I poured a pint of Tennant’s and placed it on the mat.
‘Is that the first pint?’ asked Robert.
‘If I’d known you were wanting the first pint I’d have saved it for you.’ With the customary dialogue delivered we settled into our routines.
Robert scribbled away in his notebook; talleys of fish prices. When the bar is empty and everything is polished, ship-shape and Bristol fashion I like to do some painting. I got some acrylics and a brush from the gantry and put them on the ledge at the end wall of the bar, below my mural of a flying sheep.
‘What’s it going to be this time?’ asked Robert, looking up from his notebook.
‘Just a seagull. I’ll make it look like he’s standing on this ledge.’ I’m a fast worker and twenty minutes later a seagull was balancing on said ledge. I cleared the paints away.
Robert turned to the windows and watched the hustle and bustle on Lochinver pier. La Perouse, one of the huge boats of the French fleet had recently landed. The relief crew debarked from their bus, fresh from the Lorient / Inverness flight, and boarded; faces glum in contrast to the old crew excitedly heading towards the Wayfarer’s.
‘Here they come,’ said Robert.
The door opened and a wave of salty-smelling seamen poured in.
An hour later all the Ricard was finished. The Breton fishermen put away their darts and left for the bus back to Inverness airport and home.
Bernard the bond supplier for the French boats, came in and had a pint with Robert, discussing that eternal question; the price of fish.
The art teacher Brian, who comes up every summer, came in. Robert and Bernard waved to him. He noticed the seagull straight away.
‘That’s new. Very realistic,’ said Brian.
‘Thanks. What are you having?’
‘Pint of McEwans please,’ said Brian.
‘So what’s happening with you?’
‘You wouldn’t believe it. Yesterday I took a group of my school kids to the Inchnadamph caves.’ ‘The ones up behind the hotel or the Bone Caves?’ ‘Behind the hotel. You know that one that’s fairly easy to get into, the one with the river in the second chamber? Anyway I made this big speil to the kids about how they would be the first to enter the cave and it hadn’t been seen for thousands of years,’ ‘And?’ ‘When we got into the second chamber it was vandalised,’ said Brian.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Graffiti all over the place. The kids were so disappointed. Who would do that?’ sighed Brian.
I squirmed.
‘Well, actually me.’
‘What?’ said Brian.
‘That cave fills up with water and we did use watercolour paints. I thought that it would have washed away by now.’ ‘You. Why?’ said Brian.
‘My pal Linda was up and we were making a video and we painted some symbols in the cave. It was ages ago, two months ago. Thought it would have washed off by now.’ ‘Well it hasn’t,’ said Brian.
‘Ok. I’ll go up and wash it off today.’ ‘Fine,’ said Brian gruffly.
He went and sat down in a window booth.
Robert and Bernard were smirking at me.
‘I’ve never been to the caves so if you want any help I’ll come along,’ said Bernard.
‘Great. Lorna comes in at one. We’ll need some torches and a brush.’ ‘I’ll bring my storm lantern,’ said Bernard.
‘Ok. Pick you up at your store, say one thirty?’ Bernard nodded.
A twenty minute drive and a short walk later we arrived at the entrance to the main cave. I scrambled down the hidden hole and ducked under the overhang. It opened out into a huge cavern. Bernard followed me with the storm lantern. We carefully crossed the underground river, the noise was so loud that we couldn’t hear each other. I pointed to several flattish rocky walls. Linda’s primitive-looking designs in black, red and ochre stood out fabulously like ancient cave paintings. I dipped the brush in the water and started scrubbing.
‘That cave was amazing. The paintings were great too. Shame I didn’t take a camera,’ said Bernard, as we walked back down towards the car.
‘But you’ve got them on video right?’ he asked.
‘No. The video camera got too damp. Just got a few seconds that’s all. Linda did this brilliant dance with flaming torches and then went and burnt her leg. It was a bit of a disaster. It’s on my website under Rionnagan Gaoil.’ ‘Rionnagan gaoil. What’s that?’ asked Bernard.
‘Gaelic for Stars of Love. From Shakespeare. A love story about a phoenix and a dove. ‘
I got back in time for my evening shift at five. The bar was full of elderly tourists. A bus tour. Robert came into the bar grinning. He went up to the jukebox. I knew what was coming next. Sure enough the throbbing pop music washed over the bar as the sound of simulated sexual intercourse came through the speakers from Lil’Louis’ French Kiss. The tourists left pretty quickly.
‘Well you managed to scare off my customers.’ ‘Did you have a nice time up at the caves?’ smiled Robert.
‘Ha, ha.’
Robert laughed, ‘Cheer up. See this.’ He opened up the latest Assynt News and spread it out on the table. He pointed to an article below a cartoon and began to read it out.
‘Someone has vandalised the new toilet block at Clachtoll with graffiti.’ ‘So?’ Robert grinned, ‘Do you know who it was?’ ‘Well, it wasn’t me.’ Robert said, ‘It was Brian. He thought he’d paint one of his cartoons to brighten up the wall!’
