Homecoming

Ruth Anthea Emslie

2002

It was the day after May Day, 2002. I awoke to largely sunny skies, across which clouds were sent a-scudding by the fresh breeze.

After a restless night, trying to squeeze my ample figure into a hotel room single bed where my wee four-legged companion was determined to join me, I set off in my laden car for Gill's Bay on the north coast of Scotland. As I made the brief journey from Thurso across the top of Caithness to join the ferry bound for St. Margaret's Hope in Orkney, excitement mounted with every second of the twenty-minute journey. Was I really going home? Was I about to embark on the final part of a journey that had taken several decades, from the time of my family leaving the islands in 1963 to the time of my returning this day? It was hard to believe, but believe it I did! In the intervening thirty-nine years, there had always been the desire to find 'my Orkney' wherever I travelled throughout Europe and in the United States, searching for the place I felt I could call 'home' one day that would remind me of the islands of my birth. I had even just spent almost three years living in West Bay, on the south coast of England, choosing it because it reminded me so much of my beloved birthplace. But it wasn't home; in the end, there was only one place that I could call 'home' and that was Orkney itself.

I boarded the 'Pentalina B' and, as we set sail, I was summoned to purchase my ticket. How wonderful it felt to ask for a single - no return!

Just after 11 o'clock, we arrived in St. Margaret's Hope. As I drove onto the islands for first time in years, I was on the point of tears, indeed, some tears did fall. Albeit I was moving to a new area, it was an area so wonderfully familiar. Driving across the Churchill Barriers, I drank in their every detail and floods of memories overwhelmed me. When I reached the long, straight Holm road I could recall Dad's driving down it in his new car at a speed exceeding 90 mph, much to my squeals of delight! I hasten to add that this was long before the open road speed limits.

And so I came upon and descended into Kirkwall. Was I really here? Was I really here to stay? Was I really home? Yes, there was the familiar spire of St. Magnus Cathedral in whose shadow I was born, and there was the harbour, stretching out at the north end of the town, where I used to cycle to almost every day of my boarding school holidays. And there was Scapa beach bringing back memories of swimming in the Flow and playing in the sand. And there were so many new houses where green fields once had been; but that was progress and that was to be expected. As much as I prodded my cocker spaniel companion to show some enthusiasm for this momentous occasion, I could not rouse her. Well, dogs will be dogs!

Hungry for every sight and relishing every sound, I drove slowly through the town to my first port of call; it was to meet with Lizzie, a dear former school friend who had been such a source of help and encouragement in my homecoming preparations.

When I made the decision to return home to Orkney, I knew exactly where I wanted to live; right on the south edge of Kirkwall Bay with a view from Wideford Hill in the west to Cragiefield House in the north-east. I knew that a bunch of new houses had been built there in recent years, but didn't know what sort of housing they provided, and if one or more would be available to purchase. When I made my heart's desire known to Lizzie, she told me about a house, situated right at the water's edge, which had been on the market for some time. She sent me the details, and I immediately bought the house without seeing it or needing to see it; all I wanted Lizzie to verify was that the 'unrestricted views from Wideford Hill to Cragiefield' were actually there and that no-one could take them away; and she did!

And so, after greeting me, the first thing that Lizzie did was to take me to see 'my' new house - my final home, which I had decided to call 'Rohaven', translated as 'quiet refuge'.

I walked over to the house's boundary fence, turned towards the Bay and drank in the beauty, the magnificence and the wonderment of the panorama before me. I saw the green and brown and purple of the rolling hills that fringed the Bay, vibrant blue skies that seemed to go on forever, sparkling rays of sunshine bouncing off the surface of the water and, towards the north, the variable outlines of several of Orkney's North Isles. Was this view really going to be mine? Was I actually going to wake up to this uplifting scene every morning? Dear listener, have you ever felt that your heart could just burst with joy and thankfulness? Well, mine did all of that, that day, the day I'll never forget; the day of my longed-for homecoming.