Page 9 of Hellisay Maybe

A stern-looking woman in her seventies was mopping the floor to the sounds of Gaelic voices on the radio. The fading red hair confirmed it: definitely Ealasaid. Behind the counter, a pretty but slightly harassed woman in her thirties was wiping down surfaces and wrestling with the coffee machine. Both of them looked up as a gust of wind slammed the door shut behind her.

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry!” Jenn said, jumping.

“Hello, Jennifer,” Ealasaid said, her expression as unreadable as ever. Jenn had never been able to tell if she was annoyed or just… like that. Being best friends with Auntie Peigi placed her firmly in the Formidable Women camp. As a child, Jenn had feared both the red hair and the scolding.

“Hello, Ealasaid. I thought I’d swing by and say hello before I got started. And iron out all the details and expectations.”

Ealasaid pulled out a chair and sat down. “Yes, good idea. Mairead, why don’t you come over here too,” she said to the girl behind the counter.

“I don’t suppose you two know each other, do you?” Ealasaid asked, glancing between them.

“I’m afraid not,” Jenn replied.

“Different sides of the island, I suppose. Mairead MacPhee, meet Jennifer Fraser. Jennifer Fraser, meet Mairead MacPhee.”

Classic island introduction—surnames always included.

On an island like Hellisay, you had to keep track of who was a cousin and all the once-, twice-removed etiquette. Jenn was probably related to a good fifteen percent of the population. That she knew about. Allowing, of course, for a reasonable risk of inbreeding.

“Mairead is one of our full-timers and has been here for a few years now. Jennifer, as you know, Mairead, will be starting in a couple of weeks. And helping with the baking.”

“Hey Jennifer,” Mairead said, shyly, “I’m looking forward to us working together.”

“Same here,” Jenn said warmly, “so what part of the island are you from?”

“I live down near Hellisay Bay. Grew up there—still there now, but with my husband and three kids—”

“Mairead’s dad is Murdo, who runs The Ghillie Dhu,” Ealasaid interrupted, referring to one of the pubs in Saints Bay.

“Oh right, yes, I think I know who you mean,” Jenn said, smiling politely.

“And she’s married to Scallops.”

“Scallops…?” Jenn frowned.

“Seanny,” Mairead said quickly, darting a nervous glance at Ealasaid. “My husband. He dives for scallops, so… Scallops.”

“Ah yes,” Jenn said, the penny dropping. “I’d forgotten the nicknaming conventions up here.” She smiled at Mairead.

“So, you’re Peigi’s niece from the mainland?” Mairead asked, growing a touch more confident.

“Yes, that’s right. I used to come most summers, but only really stayed around the village. It’s actually been a few years since I was last up,” Jenn said.

“Humpf!” Ealasaid snorted. “Yes. I heard about your gallivanting to war zones!”

“Not war zones,” Jenn quickly clarified at the horrified look on Mairead’s face. “I just like to travel.”

“I see. Well, I look forward to hearing all your stories,” Mairead said, a kind smile on her face.

“No time for chattering here, ladies,” Ealasaid said brusquely. “Plenty of work to be doing.”

Mairead scampered up quickly, “Yes, I’ll finish off the kitchen and be off then, Ealasaid. Lovely to meet you, Jennifer—looking forward to working with you.”

“Me too. And, please, call me Jenn,” she replied, as Mairead smiled and returned to her tasks. At least she had one ally here. Jenn glanced back at Ealasaid who was scrutinising her from top to bottom.

The rest of their conversation was all business: hours, shifts, expectations—and repeated and stern reminders to keep the baking ‘plain and simple’. It was the quieter season, so the café only needed two or three staff at a time. But once the bus tours, tourists, islanders, plane passengers, and their families started descending, that number would double.

The café was tucked into the airport’s waiting area. All the tables and chairs looked out onto the runway-beach. There was a no-frills approach to the décor and small maps and photographs of the island covered the fading blue walls. The kitchen was decently sized and surprisingly well-equipped. But most importantly, there on the counter sat a glass display case, waiting to be filled with cakes, scones, and biscuits.