Scotland Street Volume 18, Chapter 58: A site of pilgrimage

By Alexander McCall Smith

Published 23rd Apr 2025, 07:00 BST

There were one or two people in Northumberland Street, but nobody seemed to take more than passing notice of Sister Maria-Fiore dei Fiori di Montagna walking purposefully along with her heavy blue bag. One passer-by recognised her, and greeted her with a friendly good-morning. She returned the greeting, but kept her eyes steadily on the pavement ahead: she did not wish to engage in conversation lest enquiry be made as to the contents of the bag.

Towards the end of Northumberland Street, just short of the junction with Dundas Street, Sister Maria-Fiore stopped for a moment outside the Wally Dug, a well-known pub into which she and Antonia occasionally dropped on Friday evenings. She was a welcome presence in this bar, and would engage in lively conversation with a number of the locals before returning for dinner in Drummond Place. There was always much to discuss, it seemed, and her views were generally listened to attentively. Several of her aphorisms had, in fact, been noted down and were quoted on the food menu or inscribed on the walls of the toilets, with due attribution.

That morning, Sister Maria-Fiore noticed that several workmen were busying themselves outside the Wally Dug. She had been told that work was being planned in the pub: a new floor was being laid – a stone floor, described as being a “floor of appropriate character”, was being installed and several other changes were being made to the décor. This work must now be starting, she thought, as she saw one of the workmen unloading the new flooring material from a van parked nearby.

The foreman, a stocky man in dusty overalls, greeted her warmly. “Nice morning for a walk, Sister,” he said. “If you feel like a drink, pop in and we’ll fix you up.”

“Bless you,” she said. “The work that we all do, in our various ways, can produce not just a spiritual thirst.”

“Aye,” said the foreman. “That’s true enough.”

It was at this point that Sister Maria-Fiore heard a cry from Dundas Street. Looking up sharply, she saw that a woman had tripped on the pavement and was sprawled out at the edge of the road. Without hesitation, she dropped her tote bag, gathered the skirts of her habit about her, and ran to the woman’s aid.

The casualty did not seem to be badly hurt – beyond a few scratches – and was soon sitting up, being comforted by Sister Maria-Fiore.

“I was being particularly careful,” said the woman. “But the pavement’s so uneven just there.”

“You’re absolutely right,” said Sister Maria-Fiore. “But the important this is that nothing seems to be broken. Can you stand up, do you think?”

She helped the woman to her feet. She asked her whether an ambulance needed to be called, but the woman was quick to discourage this. “I’ll be absolutely fine,” she said. “If you wouldn’t mind coming with me to the bus stop, I can get on a 23 and go directly home.”

Sister Maria-Fiore accompanied the woman to the bus stop. In the distance, they could see a 23 bus beginning to lumber its way up the hill. In no time at all it was with them.

“I think I should come with you,” said Sister Maria-Fiore. “Just to be on the safe side. I’ll see you to your door.”

“You’re very kind,” said the woman.

The bus set off, and it was only when they were approaching the stop on Morningside Road at which the woman said they should get off that Sister Maria-Fiore realised that she had left her Topping’s Bookshop tote bag, with the fragment of the Stone of Scone, on the ground outside the Wally Dug.

She saw the woman to her door, and then went out to Morningside Road to catch a bus back to Dundas Street. She tried not to panic. Stones would not be expected to go far. But when she arrived back at the Wally Dug, she found that the bag was nowhere to be seen. She spoke to the foreman, who scratched his head. “What was in it?” he asked.

“A piece of stone,” she replied.

He looked down into the pub, where the workman had already laid a large section of floor – with a hundred small pieces of stone.

Sister Maria-Fiore was aghast. “Oh, my goodness,” she muttered. “Desastro!”

The foreman was apologetic. “My Italian’s not up to much, but I gather that means disaster.”

“It does,” she said.

The foreman winced. “I’m afraid we can’t take that floor up now,” he said. “I can give you another piece of stone, though – if you like.”

Sister Maria-Fiore took a deep breath. She had always believed in the virtue of positivity. This was not an ideal outcome, but it could have been worse. At least this fragment of the Stone of Destiny was safe, and might be appreciated by those who might wish to come to view it. The Wally Dug could even become a place of pilgrimage – a shrine to an important part of Scottish history. It could have been far worse.