The Fisherman
Wulvers
I was on holiday when my parents died.
I had been saving for months to be able to afford two weeks away in a secluded cottage in the Scottish Highlands. I had purposefully left my phone turned off, only taking it with me when I was hiking or going near the Loch, just in case. On the 10th day of my trip, I was running low on essentials, so I turned my phone on to use the GPS to find the nearest shop.
As soon as it had woken up, my phone went crazy! Text after text, miss call alerts, social media messages – hundreds of them! There had been a virus outbreak in the capital, with hundreds of deaths in the first week, now reaching into the thousands.
There was a text from my best friend, which simply read:
“I'm so sorry. I tried to reach you. Your parents have passed away. Stay safe”
My first thought was that it wasn't real, it was some sort of April Fools joke which had gone too far, but the more I scrolled on social media, the more horrific it all became.
I was in shock. I couldn't cry, I couldn't move. I just sat on the bed and stared out the window. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours, when I was suddenly startled back to reality by my phone ringing.
“H-hello?”
“Hi there Miss. Name. I am Mr. Smith, from your parents solicitors...” The man kept speaking, but I wasn't really listening, it was all too surreal.
“Does that all make sense?” He finished.
“I erm. Yes, I think so” I lied
“I'm very sorry for your loss, it was nice to speak to you, I just wish it was under better circumstances, let me know if there's anything I can do to help. Goodbye”
“Thank you, bye” I said as the line went dead.
Even though I wasn't sure what had just happened, that phone call brought a rush of emotion. I sat and I cried.
It was a long night, spent staring off into the distance feeling lost, or wailing until I couldn't breathe. I must have drifted off sometime in the early hours, as I awoke with a start at 9am, feeling terrible, but thinking a little more clearly. I decided to check the news to see what was happening down south. It was heartbreaking. I couldn't believe I had been ignorant to it all, I was in this beautiful place, merrily taking photos, hiking and painting, while people were dying!
The message from the Government was clear “Stay at home. Save lives”
Did this mean I couldn't go home to say farewell to my parents? Panic was setting in again, when I got an email alert.
“Dear Miss Name,
Thank you for your time yesterday, and I can only say how truly sorry I am for your loss. As discussed on the phone, your inheritance will be sent to your bank, as per your parents wishes. I hope it will go some way to helping you out, in these trying times.
Yours Faithfully,
Mr. Smith”
It was all too much to process. What inheritance? My parents were hard working and saved well, but I didn't expect, or particularly want money, especially not now. I just wanted to see my family and friends. I felt so trapped and helpless!
“I suppose I'd better look” I said, with a sharp intake of breath. I typed my pin into my banking app and waited for it to load. I felt sick looking at the swirling loading symbol. A welcome message popped up, telling me about the virus “For goodness sake” I muttered as I clicked 'continue to account overview'
“Your remaining balance is: £600,458.32”
I dropped my phone and sat back into my chair, hand over my mouth, eyes wide. Slowly I leant down and picked my phone up, and looked at the screen again.
“Your remaining balance is: £600,458.32”
Oh my God.
After gathering my thoughts, I realised I needed to get in contact with the woman who owned the holiday cottage.
The phone rang for an awfully long time.
Finally she picked up, which made me jump!
“Hello?”
“Oh erm, hello. I err...I don't, um...I don't know what to say” I stuttered, everything I had planned to say and ask had vanished from my mind.
“Can I ask who's calling?” She said kindly.
“Yes, sorry, um, sorry it's Name”
“Hello Name! What a nasty business all this virus stuff, eh? I'm not sure what to make of it all.”
The words didn't seem real as I said them “Uh, my um, my parents have died. I can't go home, I don't know what to do”
There was a long silence.
“Oh my dear, I'm so very sorry, but don't you worry, you can stay in the cottage for a while, until it calms down a bit”
Before I really knew what I was saying, I spoke “Can I buy it?”
“Eh? Buy what my love?”
“Can I buy the cottage? I know you were thinking of selling next year, but I can pay for it now. It was up for £250,000 right?”
“Well, I can say I wasn't expecting that. I don't know...”
“Please, I can't go home. They won't allow it. I don't think I want to go home anyway. I can send you all the money right now and sort out paperwork some other time. Please” My voice was quivvering.
“I don't really know what to say!”
I couldn't help but sob. I held the phone away from my face, but I knew she'd heard me.
There was another long silence.
The lady sighed “Ok”
“What?”
“Ok, we'll find a way to sort this properly, but if you're serious, you can buy it”
I couldn't hold it in and burst into tears, a mixture of grief and joy. “Thank you so much!”
The next week was bizarre, it felt like a dream, even though I didn't sleep much. I'd never thought I'd own my own home, let alone one with land and a loch practically on the doorstep! On a Wednesday afternoon, I sent my digital signature to the solicitors and I was the cottages new official owner! I was ecstatic!
Unfortunately, the ecstasy didn't last long. I missed my parents and I missed my friends. No one had really spoken to me, they were all dealing with their own problems, or they didn't know what to say, aside from “I'm sorry” and I was getting sick of replying “It's ok” because it really wasn't.
Being in nature was helpful, but I was painfully lonely. I was used to being around my interesting and artistic friends, but I didn't want to draw or paint any longer, I mostly stayed in bed and watched the wildlife and the fisherman on the loch. I only really left the house to get essential supplies, which seemed to consist of chocolate and other unhealthy snacks. Eventually, I stopped going out altogether. I stopped showering or taking any sort of care of myself. I lay in bed, wondering how long it'd take me to starve to death. They days passed so quickly, but each minute was so slow.
I wanted so badly to reach out to my friends and ask for help, but I didn't want to trouble them more than they already were. They were still dealing with the virus in the south. I was desperately skin starved, desperate for the comfort of a hug.
I looked out of the window and saw the fisherman again and wondered who he was and what he looked like and if he would be my friend. I found myself smiling.
Maybe I should? Maybe I should go and speak to him, he might be lonely too, no one else was ever with him.
For the first time in weeks, I put my jeans on, my walking boots and coatand wandered toward the loch. I felt weak, but slowly made my way to the waters edge. I'd never really noticed it before, but he was always facing away from the cottage and always had a wide rimmed hat or big hood. Must be shy, I thought. I made my around the rocky path to get a little closer and stepped out onto the small woodenjetty.
His small boat floated silently on the water and he sat perfectly still, his fishing rod resting on the side, with the line draped in the water. He was hunched over and looked almost inhuman, with his large brimmed hat and raincoat with the collar turned up, like a big black shadow against the shimmering water. I could certainly see how people mistook things like this for mythical beasts in the water.
“Hello” I called. He didn't hear.
“Hello?” He definitely heard me that time, I saw his head turn slightly, but he said nothing.
“I'm Name, you might have heard of me, I bought the little cottage...” Even though he still wasn't facing me, I found myself pointing. Silence.
“Have you caught much today?” Silence.
“Ok, well, I'm just up in that cottage...” I trailed off, frustrated. I stood for a few more moments before I scuttled back home, defeatedand embarrassed.
Against my better judgement, I thought since I was already dressed, I should at least try to get something done on the cottage. It was in good enough shape, but it needed some painting and small improvements. I found some tools in the shed and set to work. My first job was to fix the fence. Easy enough! Wrong. I bent most of the nails and hit myself on the thumb more than once. The nails that I didn't bend turned out to be too long and the pointed end stuck out in a dangerous manner. I wasn't going to cry, I wasn't going to let it defeat me! Being an artist, I thought painting the house would be easy, so I found the paint and started on the kitchen. Wrong again. With my hand in pain, I managed to drop the paint, which splashed all up the cupboards and fridge. I swore under my breath and slammed down the brushes. It was getting harder to fight back the tears now.
My hand hurt, I had no idea what to do with the bright yellow paint that flooded the kitchen and I was still cross about the fisherman being so darn rude!!
Nothing else went right that day. I burned my dinner, stubbed my toe, realised I'd left my bedroom window open in the rain and smashed a glass as I was heading to bed.
That night, I'd had enough. I walked down to the Loch and looked at the black water. I glanced back at the cottage and wordlessly walked into the water. As the cold water hit my chest, I realised I was making a mistake. What was I doing?! I gasped, but turned too quickly and slipped. My head went under and I swallowed the murky water, choking on it and sending it down the wrong way. I tried to take a breath, but all I got was more water. I couldn't feel the bottom and in the pitch black, I didn't know which way was up, I was drowning!
Suddenly, I felt the cold of the icy air on my face and precious oxygen in my lungs. But, it wasn't my own strength that had brought me to the surface, someone was helping me! The water stung my eyes and I was too disorientated to know what to say or do. The last thing I remember was the door to my cottage opening.
I woke up to a gloriously sunny day. The birds sounded beautiful and the wonderful smell of nature flooded the room. My chest hurt, the taste of the water still remained in my mouth and I even had some pond weed in my hair “Urg” I groaned as I sat up. I'd managed to cut my heel when I slipped in the water. What a mess. The house, myself and my life. All of it, a mess.
It was tempting to stay in bed, but I needed to wash the loch water out of my hair, so I put my fluffy warm dressing gown on and headed towards the bathroom. As I walked through the kitchen, I stopped and groaned “More mess” I muttered, when something caught my eye. It was fish. Why on earth is there fish in my kitchen? They were partially wrapped in paper, placed just inside the window, above the sink.
Events from the night before started to creep back into my mind “Oh, I wonder if the man who saved me left those?” I thought, as I wandered over to examine the strange gift “Surely I should be buying him fish? He was the one who saved me, or maybe that's just how things work around here” I shrugged and tried to relax with a nice warm shower. I stood in the shower, letting the hot water cover me completely, my mind was whirling “Who could it have been? Why on earth did I do that? What am I going to do with those fish? I have no idea how to prepare them! Maybe I'll give them to the fisherman...” I paused “Surely it couldn't have been the fisherman? But who else could it be? What was he doing around the loch at that time? How did he see me?”
So much to think about. So many questions!
I decided to try and get the fisherman to talk today.
I got dressed and walked down to the jetty again. The sun was shining high in the sky and the water looked a deep blue, rather than the black abyss of last night. The fisherman was further away today, he looked like an ant in the distance. I sighed. “Hm” I thought for a moment “I wonder If my camera zoom will work that far away...”
I quickly walked back to the cottage and grabbed my camera off the kitchen side, luckily only the case fell victim to the paint incident. So he wasn't suspect, I opened the kitchen window, where the fish still sat. “I should put them in the fridge...or freezer?” I pondered as I took the lens cap off and focused the long lens on the dark figure on the lake. No matter where I stood, he always had his back to me. Frustrating. I snapped a couple of photos anyway, and watched him a little longer through the view finder. He was so still in the boat, which bobbed gently in the water. He must have felt the chills up his spine of someone watching him, he turned his head just enough to look over his shoulder, and his left eye caught mine, directly down the lens. I gasped and let the camera slip from my grasp “Damn it!”I fumbled to pick the camera back up and align it with the fisherman. When I finally got it in focus again, he was already rowing away. “No...” I whispered to myself.