At the end of the village was an old slipway that was now closed off with railings, and just in front of it was a white-painted building with sage green shutters and a tiled roof. The hand-painted sign above the left hand door readLifeboat Cottageand a similar but larger sign to the right hand section of the building readThe Lifeboat House Museum. The two halves were very different, with the left side appearing more homely; presumably it had once provided accommodation to the lifeboat crew when on duty. And whilst the roof line was continuous, the right-side floor of the building sloped away, mirroring the slipway; clearly the part that had once housed the lifeboat itself. There was evidence that windows had been added later, perhaps when it was turned into a museum.
Externally, the updates had been sympathetically done but Juliette wondered what it was like inside. Was the slope still in situ or had it been levelled to accommodate the displays?
For a moment, Juliette stood peering up at the scrolled lettering of the sign, her hand placed over her heart and a wide, teary smile on her face. Her mum had told her of the lifeboat house and the fact that her own grandfather had been a volunteer on the boat many years before. Now it was almost a monument to those who had put their lives at risk to save others.
There was a pretty stained-glass panel in the door that was made up of chunks of sea glass and coloured glass beads which depicted the old lifeboat. Quite an apt and quirky addition to the otherwise plain wood. Only above this was a sign that read ‘CLOSED UNTIL FURTHER NOTICE’, which saddened her. She would’ve loved the opportunity to have a glimpse into the past, and of possibly learning more about her ancestry.
As she turned to walk back along towards the pub, Juliette heard someone shout, ‘Chewie! No!’ and before she could register what was going on, she was knocked off her feet, the air exiting her lungs, and she landed on her back with awhumpand a groan.
Her face was covered in long wet strokes from a canine tongue and she scrunched up her mouth and eyes, trying her best to avoid the onslaught. ‘Get off me! Get off!’ she squealed in between licks. A horrid memory of being pounced on by her neighbour’s dog when she was twelve sprang to mind, the snarling, bone-shakingly deep bark as Buster, the Rottweiler cross, lurched for her, and then the relief as Shaun, the neighbour’s son, had tugged the dog back in the nick of time…
The dog was yanked back by the collar, enabling Juliette to sit up. ‘I’m so sorry! I’m so, so sorry, lady! Chewie, you bad boy. Bad boy!’ A young boy of around eleven fiddled with the lead in his hand and tugged it over the dog’s head. Once secured, he held it with a white-knuckled grip and a look of sheer horror on his face. ‘Are you okay? Please, say you’re okay.’
Juliette wiped the slobber from her face and scrambled to her feet. The gangly dog lurched forward again, tail wagging frantically and tongue lolling out of its mouth. She stepped back with alarm, not wishing for a repeat of what had just happened. ‘I’m fine, no thanks to your dog.’ She nodded towards the strip of red corded fabric in the boy’s hands. ‘Why didn’t you have himonthe lead?’
The boy’s cheeks flushed scarlet and he cringed. ‘He keeps slipping out of it. He’s only a year old and not trained very well yet. I-I’m working on it though!’ he insisted.
The dog had shaggy tan-coloured hair and amber eyes. If she were a dog person, she’d think it was cute, but as shewasn’t, it was simply a drooling menace that evidently couldn’t be controlled by its human. ‘Well, perhaps you need a different type of lead. It’s not good to have him running wild and attacking people.’ She swiped at her legs to brush off gravel and grass cuttings.
‘I really am sorry. He’s not vicious or anything. Just friendly. He loves to meet new people,’ said the boy by way of explanation.
Juliette wasn’t convinced. Pets were something she’d never had and never wanted, especially one as huge as this dog was but she didn’t want to be too hard on the boy. ‘It’s fine. It was shock more than anything.’
‘You can fuss him if you want. I think he likes you,’ the dark-haired boy informed her.
She cringed and held up her hands in protest. ‘No! Erm, thanks, I’m good.’
The boy pursed his lips. ‘You’re not a dog fan, are you?’
‘Is it that obvious? I can’t say I am, no. Bad experience when I was younger.’ She cringed as an involuntary shiver shook her.
The boy sighed. ‘That’s a shame. Dogs are such good friends, you know. They’re not all nasty. They don’t pick on you. They don’t steal your things, unless it’s food, of course, and they don’t say mean things about you. They just love you.’ An air of sadness took over the boy until the dog jumped on him and he giggled. ‘Chewie loves me, don’t you, boy?’ This brought a small smile to Juliette as she witnessed the two of them.
‘Okay, but they’re smelly and dribbly, and from what I’ve heard they have a thing about rolling in stinky patches and diving in stagnant water.’
‘Not Chewie. He’s terrified of water. Aren’t you, boy? He’s a Hungarian Vizsla and that’s a type of hunting dog, so swimming’s not really his thing. Ugh, you should see him when we bath him. Nightmare.’ The boy rolled his eyes and shook his head.
‘What kind of name is Chewie? Does he eat everything?’
The boy laughed. ‘Oh no. He’s quite good really. He’s named after Chewbacca fromStar Wars.’
Juliette tilted her head and assessed the dog. She could definitely see the resemblance in the size and colour. ‘Ah, yes. Good name.’
The boy held out his hand. ‘I’m Evin Mackinnon, by the way. I’m eleven, so I don’t usually talk to strangers, but seeing as my dog jumped on you, I thought I should tell you.’
She smiled and shook his hand, wondering if he was related to the Mr Mackinnon who rejected her for the job at the museum. ‘I’m Juliette. But most people call me Jules.’
‘Ooh, like the crown jewels?’
She laughed. ‘Not quite. Different spelling. So, do you live in the village?’
‘Aye, I do. I live with my dad. And Chewie, of course. Actually, I should get back. Dad will wonder where I am. I had to come looking for this doaty wee creature.’
‘I’d hardly call himwee.’
‘True. Doatymucklecreature, eh?’ The boy turned and ran away, waving as he went.
Juliette had no clue what he’d just said, so she smiled and waved back, then heaved a deep sigh. In the space of an hour, she’d almost knocked down a pedestrianandalmost been eaten alive by a space monster masquerading as a dog. She had come to Skye after adventure but it was turning out to be a little more eventful than she’d imagined.
