by Sarah Sundin
What do Scotland, lighthouses, and selkies have in common? For me, family.
When you’re an author, everyone gives you story ideas. “You really ought to write about (fill in the blank with your favorite topic).” I am no exception.
My husband is half-Scottish. His grandparents’ families emigrated to Canada in the early 1900s, and his grandfather had a delightful brogue.
“You really ought to write a novel set in Scotland,” said my husband.
An excellent idea. The story of Scotland in World War II is fascinating but not seen much in fiction, and I love to find fresh angles to a familiar topic.
My parents are lighthouse afficionados. They belong to the US Lighthouse Society and have been on multiple lighthouse tours, including to Scotland.
“You really ought to write a novel set in a lighthouse,” my mother’s voice said in my head.
An excellent idea. Lighthouses are inherently romantic. In my research, I found Dunnet Head Lighthouse at the northernmost point of mainland Scotland, in sight of the Orkney Islands and the great wartime Royal Navy base at Scapa Flow. Dunnet Head is one of the famous Stevenson Lighthouses, designed by the family of author Robert Louis Stevenson, and it’s perched on massive steep cliffs and surrounded by flocks of seabirds. Extraordinarily picturesque.
During World War II, all lighthouses in Britain were extinguished but still manned. Adjacent to Dunnet Head Lighthouse, the Royal Navy built a radar station to protect Scapa Flow.
In my mind, I saw a Scotsman serving in the Royal Navy at Scapa Flow, across the waters from his seaside family home near Dunnet.
Then my youngest son, who loves mythology, said, “If you’re going to write a story set in Scotland, you really ought to use the legend of the selkie.”
When at sea, the selkie appears as a seal. But when she comes to land, she removes her sealskin to reveal a beautiful young woman. If a young man falls in love with her, he can only trap her on land by hiding her sealskin. If that selkie finds her sealskin, she’ll flit back to sea, leaving the man heartbroken.
In my mind, I saw a female spy landing by boat at night on the Scottish shore. Of course, she isn’t loyal to the German cause but became a spy to escape the occupation—such things did happen. And in my mind, I saw my Scottish hero—in a kilt, naturally—chancing upon this woman and capturing her. A man of duty, he turns her in, knowing she’ll be executed.
But Britain’s MI5 “turns” her to become a double agent. They have “stolen her sealskin” and trapped her on land, but they believe that if given the chance, she’ll flit back to sea and to her German handlers.
MI5 sends Cilla van der Zee, my selkie heroine, to Dunnet Head Lighthouse, where she can send misleading messages back to Germany. They assign her a naval liaison from Scapa Flow to aid her—the very man who captured her, Lt. Lachlan Mackenzie.
Midnight on the Scottish Shore was a delight to write, my research trip to northern Scotland and the Orkneys filled me to the brim, and I got to write about kilts, bagpipes, and haggis.
Mock haggis, that is. There was a war on.
I have my husband, his grandparents, my parents, and my youngest son to thank.
Sometimes listening to your family actually helps.
About the Author
Sarah Sundin is an ECPA-bestselling author of World War II novels, including Midnight on the Scottish Shore. Her novels have received the Christy Award and the Carol Award. Sarah lives in Southern California and serves as program director of the West Coast Christian Writers Conference. Learn more at www.sarahsundin.com.
About the Book
As the Nazis invade the Netherlands, the only way Cilla van der Zee can survive the occupation is to do the unthinkable—train to become a spy. But her scheme is thwarted when naval officer Lt. Lachlan Mackenzie finds her along the Scottish shore. Rather than execute her, British intelligence employs her to radio misleading messages to Germany. If the war is to be won, Lachlan and Cilla must find a way to trust each other and work together.