Katie Morag and the Struay Star Katie Morag

# Katie Morag

# Run away across the ocean

# Katie Morag

# Over the sea to Struay

# Katie Morag

# Run away across the ocean

# Katie Morag

# Over the sea to Struay. #

'My name is Katie Morag McColl and I live on the island of Struay.

'I suppose it's quite wee but it's ginormous to me

'and everyone looks out for me

'when I'm out and about having my adventures.'

# Katie Morag. #

I love reading stories and I love telling them too.

When I grow up, I'm going to write books like the Lady Author

or maybe I'll be a reporter flying all over the world

and bringing stories back from exciting places.

Oh, I take it you've finished your homework, then?

-What are we waiting for?

-Homework.

That's the one type of writing I'm not so keen on.

Angus, very good. Sasha, much improved.

Agnes, excellent as usual.

Katie Morag, how do you spell tomato?

T-O-M-A-T-O.

I'm going to stop you right there, that's perfect.

No more letters are required. Well done.

Right, now, next week's homework is a wee bit different.

Now, who here can tell me the name of the island's newspaper?

-Sasha.

-The Struay Star.

-The Struay Star.

A splendid publication indeed.

Now, the editor, Mr Ferriman, has been in touch

to ask each of you to send in a story.

Now, it can be an interview, an investigation,

anything you like, but he is going to print the best one

on the front page with the writer's name and photograph

right next to it.

So, I want you all to put your thinking caps on,

sharpen your pencils and go find a story that will knock his socks off.

BELL RINGS

What are you doing for next week's homework?

-Well, first of all I'm going to do my hair.

-Your hair?

Well, I have to look my best for the photo, don't I?

That's only if you win.

Well, I don't know about you, Katie Morag,

but I'll be very surprised if I don't win.

A story for the paper, eh?

It can't just be any story,

it's got to make Mr Ferriman take his shoes off.

-You mean knock his socks off?

-HE LAUGHS

Something like that.

Well, why don't you ask Mrs Baxter?

-I'm sure she's got a tale worth telling.

-Oh, please.

-What?

Mrs Baxter? Seriously?

She'll tell you what colour of wallpaper

the nurse is hanging in her bathroom

and you'll get an update on Mr McMaster's ingrown toenail.

But if it's anything other than gossip and tittle-tattle

you're after, I'd steer well clear.

-Well, I don't think that's very fair.

-You don't?

-No.

She does her fair share of gossiping, I'll grant you,

-but you should never judge a book by its cover.

-What does that mean?

It means there's usually more to people than meets the eye.

Now, I reckon Grannie Island's the cleverest person

in the whole entire universe but I didn't think she was right this time.

I'd never heard Mrs Baxter say anything

worth putting in a newspaper. Neilly Beag was a much better idea.

He'd be sure to have something interesting.

It's your lucky day, Katie Morag.

I've got something which will not only knock the socks off

Mr Ferriman, it will rocket them right into orbit.

Uh-huh, here we are.

-Take a look at this.

-A carrot?

But if you look at it from this angle,

it looks very much like a face.

In fact, it's the spitting image of Bobby Campbell who runs

the tropical fish shop up in Trotternish.

Now, Neilly Beag was famous for his amusingly-shaped vegetables

and some of them were really good

but this one just looked like a carrot to me.

-Do you know Bobby?

-No.

That explains it all.

It really does bear an uncanny resemblance.

'By now I was starting to get worried.

'What if I didn't get a brilliant story?

'What if Agnes won and got her picture in the newspaper after all?

'She'd go on and on about it for ever.'

-Katie Morag.

-Oh, hello, Mrs Baxter.

And what might you be up to?

'I didn't want to tell her but there was no avoiding it.'

-I'm trying to find a story for the Struay Star.

-Oh, really?

Oh, budge up.

-Don't you have a notebook?

-I do.

-Well, you'd better open it up, then.

I filled five pages with Mrs Baxter's stories.

She told me about the "holiday" man who had an electric bell on his bike

and the lady artist's new duvet cover which didn't quite match

her curtains and Mr McMaster's ingrown toenail,

which was a terrible burden

but he refused to see the nurse about it.

Five whole pages!

With hundreds of stories and not even one of them a little bit interesting.

-Not one.

-Och, it's a shame about Mr McMaster's toenail.

-KATIE SIGHS

-Bothered him for years.

-Well, I can see that's not the kind of story you wanted.

-Say that again.

-Well, did you ask her?

-Ask her what?

-If she had another story.

One that the newspapers might be interested in.

-She'd have told me if she had.

-Are you sure about that?

-She tells everyone everything about everything.

-A-ha!

That's not quite true, you know.

-Did you notice she never, ever talks about herself?

-How do you mean?

Well, she never talks about her toenails or her duvets

and if she had an electric bell on her bike,

I doubt she'd ever talk about that either.

Now, I don't know much about newspapers

but if I was a reporter I would be wondering.

I would be wondering what's lying under the surface.

Remember what I told you, Katie Morag.

Never judge a book by its cover.

There's more to people than you think.

I could see what Grannie Island was saying.

Mrs Baxter never did talk about herself.

But I couldn't help thinking the reason her book had a boring cover

was cos it really, really was a boring book.

The next morning I set off bright and early,

I only had a week to find a story which would blow Mr Ferriman's

socks off and I was determined to get one.

-What I'm doing today, that's a real story.

-Painting a shed?

This is the end of an era.

See, this shed has been unpainted since I was a boy.

And then, just the other day, I said to myself, "Mr McMaster,"

I said, "the days of having an unpainted shed are over.

"You can paint it any colour you like."

They tried to stop me, they said it was crazy but I didn't care.

I wanted a fresh start so I got three tins of periwinkle blue

and here we are, right at the moment of truth.

In fact, you should probably get a photograph for the newspaper.

Thanks, Mr McMaster. That was...

really interesting.

-Did I mention my ingrown toenail?

-I've already got that story, thanks.

-Picture the scene...

-'And then guess who I met?'

-I'm in the zone.

'Yup, Mr "holiday" man.'

Flying round the corner and there's someone ahead of me,

right in the middle of the road.

All I have to do is press this little button here...

BELL BLARES 'By then, I'd more or less given up.

'Agnes was going to find the best story

'and get her picture in the paper and that was that.'

Hi, Mrs Baxter.

-Oh, Katie Morag.

-What are you reading?

-It's just a letter from an old friend.

-Anything exciting?

Not really. Nothing you'd be interested in.

It was the weirdest thing.

I mean, normally Mrs Baxter tells you everything about everything

but it was almost like she didn't want to say anything at all.

-Well, did you push her?

-That wouldn't be very nice.

No, I don't mean actually push her.

Did you tell her you would be interested?

-Well, if she isn't going to tell you, then I will.

-Tell me what?

Let's take a wee walk.

Well, it was back when Mrs Baxter was a girl.

She was about 17 or 18 and there was a family here on holiday

by the name of Cruickshank, and the oldest boy Malcolm was

out on a boat one day when suddenly a wave came up and tipped it over.

Now, Malcolm was a very good swimmer

but they reckon he must have hit his head on something

-because he went under and didn't come back up again.

-Oh, my goodness.

Well, Mrs Baxter, or Jeannie, as she was known to us then,

she heard the commotion and before anyone could stop her

she kicked off her shoes, dived in and swam out.

Well, she must have dived a dozen times or more

but never found anything.

But she never gave up and on her final dive she grabbed hold

of something, and that something she grabbed hold of was Malcolm.

-Was he all right?

-Mmm, eventually.

So she saved his life?

Oh, and that's not all.

When Malcolm grew up he had five children of his own.

So, if it hadn't been for Jeannie, none of them would be here either.

Whoa.

-Whoa indeed.

-So that letter she was reading...

-That was from Malcolm.

Oh, he still sends her letters from time to time and in that one he

was writing to tell her he'd had his first grandchild, a wee baby girl.

So if it wasn't for Mrs Baxter, she wouldn't have been there either.

-No.

-She's sort of like a hero.

-She's a genuine 100% hero.

-Why didn't she tell me?

-Because it was about herself.

And she doesn't like speaking about herself.

Doesn't think folk would be interested. What do you think?

-Is it a good story?

-A brilliant story.

And I know a way to make it even better.

'It took ages to organise and a lot of help but I reckon my plan was

'absolute genius and, so far, it was going like clockwork.'

She's coming!

PHONE BEEPS

Yup, Katie Morag says she's on her way up.

-Good morning, Mrs Baxter.

-Good morning.

-What can I do for you today?

-Could you just post that for me?

-Thank you.

-Oh, I hear Mrs Bayview's feeling poorly.

-Oh, really?

-I'll pop in later and see her.

-You're not in a rush, are you?

I'm afraid so, I have a million things to do today.

-Interesting story in the paper.

-Really? What's that?

A peat thief near Ballantrushal they're warning people to be careful.

-Good advice.

-Kilmory did well in the shinty cup.

That's great news! Isn't that great news, Mrs Baxter?

-Well, for folk that live in Kilmory, anyway.

-I suppose.

-Well, best not hold you back. Have a lovely day.

-Right.

-Jeannie?

-Malcolm.

What on earth are you doing here?

There's someone I want you to meet.

-Oh, my word. Is this her?

-Sure is.

-Oh, she's beautiful.

-Have you got a name yet?

-Jeannie.

-No. For the baby?

Jeannie, we named her after you.

Me?

Oh, I...

I don't know what to say.

Oh. Yes, you're beautiful.

So I got my story in the front page of the paper after all

but that didn't seem so important in the end.

The really important thing was what I learned about Mrs Baxter.

She was gossipy and a busybody, but she was shy and kind too.

She was a 100% genuine hero.

Grannie Island was right after all.

But then, she usually is.