Storm Over Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  ‘Ach, we both sewed you up between us—’ Babbie began, only to be interrupted by his shout of laughter.

  ‘What a nice sandwich that would have made! Me in the middle of two voluptuous women. If only it had happened that way. I would have found plenty to keep me occupied during my convalescence.’

  Babbie’s mouth twitched as she picked up the scissors. ‘Lie still while I snip the damt things out. Biddy – my predecessor – once said, “The Lord giveth and the Nurse taketh away” and if you don’t stop wriggling I’ll take things o’ yours away you wouldny like to be without.’

  ‘Hell,’ he groaned and lay back, one arm crooked behind his head, ‘what did I do to deserve you? God help your regular patients. At least I’ll soon be rid of you.’ He winced – these scissors were none too gentle. Bitch! Still, he admired her despite everything. If nothing else she was a good nurse – and probably a little spitfire in other fields despite that cool front – the stitches were out! He was free! He laughed again. An infectious laugh that made even Babbie smile.

  He was impatient to be up, to be out of the bed that had for too long been a lonely prison. He struggled to stand, supported by two pairs of feminine shoulders. The effort brought sweat to his brow – but he was upright at last. The sun streamed through the window, beat warmly on his lightly clad body, brought out the sweet clean fragrance of Megan’s shining hair. Something in him stirred, awakened – his hand came round to crook her chin, he pressed his lips to hers.

  ‘Don’t mind me.’ Babbie was almost as taken aback as Megan and felt foolish, standing there supporting a man who was kissing another woman.

  ‘Oh, I haven’t forgotten.’ His head swung round, impudently and briefly he claimed her mouth and very neatly her small sharp teeth pierced his lower lip. He staggered, fell back onto the bed, drawing his fingers over the puncture, examining them for a sign of blood. It was there, a tiny drop, as red as the colour which diffused his face.

  ‘Bloody little spitfire!’ he spat. ‘It was only fun. I felt so good – I wanted the whole world to share it!’

  ‘The whole world can, except me.’ Babbie knew she had overreacted but even so she spoke evenly and unrepentantly and without another word left the room. Megan, her eyes too bright, made to go after her but his hand came out to catch hers. ‘Megan, don’t go! For God’s sake, what have I done that’s so bad?’

  ‘Please Steve, let me go,’ she half sobbed, her voice no more than a whisper.

  ‘No, Megs, I’ll never let you go again!’

  He wasn’t a sick man any longer, he was the Steve Saunders she remembered, strong, in control, of himself – of her – of everything that she had tried to pretend she had regained in all those long, weary months away from him.

  She allowed herself to go to him, to curl down beside him like a small girl in desperate need of reassurance.

  ‘Megs,’ he murmured into her hair, ‘I thought I had lost you – not just while we were apart but here, on Rhanna, where I could see you and feel your presence – yet not have you at all.’

  His pyjama jacket was open right down to his navel showing his smooth, still-tanned skin, the furring of hairs on his chest, his gaze was on her, slightly mocking – and something else: passion, smouldering, setting the blue eyes of him on fire. They held her own for a long, breathless moment before they travelled over her face to her throat, lingering on the curving swell of her breasts. She was wearing only a light blouse and the smile in his eyes deepened when he saw the firm swelling of her nipples. The sunlight was on her hair, turning the silken brown wash of it to a golden chestnut. His eyes played with her, tormented her as they slid from the delicate arch of her throat, the fragile curve of her shoulders, then focused once more on her mouth: the pale rose of her lips; the white, even teeth which were biting on her lower lip to keep it from trembling. With delicate slowness he bent and kissed the warm hollow of her throat, teased and played with her mouth till she could stand it no longer and with a little helpless cry she captured his mouth before it could elude her. Over and over they kissed, swiftly, breathlessly, till she pulled away from him, as if in need of respite from the overwhelming desires that were engulfing her senses.

  ‘I’d better go down,’ she whispered against his throat, ‘Babbie will be waiting, we always discuss our schedules round about now.’

  ‘To hell with Babbie,’ his voice was harsh with longing, ‘we need this time together, Megs, there’s so much of it to be made up.’

  His body was hard beneath hers, hard and powerful in spite of his recent injuries. She could feel the thump of his heart against her cheek: how she had loved that wilful, impulsive heart: every precious beat had filled her with delight and wonder . . . She pressed her lips to the sound of it and quite without warning a vision of Mark James came to her once more: the smoky-blue eyes of him boring into her soul, as if he had known all along that this moment would come for her and he could have none of her as long as the obsession that was Steven Saunders imprisoned her heart.

  ‘Oh, Mark,’ she sobbed his name against Steven’s chest and some separate part of her begged Mark’s forgiveness even as she allowed herself to relax and give her mouth to Steven.

  ‘Don’t cry, Megs,’ he wiped her tears away with a practised finger, ‘I’m here, my darling, and we’re going to make the most of every second we have together.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  The evening boat brought Daniel Smylie Smith back to Rhanna, well pleased with himself as work on the Mermaid could now get started, and he had spent the last few days in Oban arranging for the relevant parts to be shipped over on the same steamer as himself.

  He was even more pleased when, on presenting himself at Tigh na Cladach, he discovered Steven to be up and about and sipping sherry in Megan’s homely little sitting room.

  ‘You look well on it, old son,’ Daniel enthused, ‘and you’ll feel even better when I tell you that work can begin on the Mermaid. I’ll arrange some local help and be on the spot to supervise and make sure the buggers get their fingers out. From what I’ve seen they’re not too keen on hard work in these parts though no doubt the finished efforts will be alright. That old geezer, Ranald, seems more than keen to let us continue using his boat shed so all in all everything’s worked out well.’ He winked. ‘Should all take a few weeks though, and I must admit this place has grown on me so I mean to make the most of my stay – as no doubt you will too.’

  Steven, somewhat pale after his first day up and about, held up a protesting hand. ‘Dan, old boy, slow down. I’ve just spent six weeks on the boards and am in no fit state for all this breezy talk. I’ll be taking my time getting myself shipshape again and a whole summer mightn’t be long enough to do it in. I’ve still to see this island, remember, and while I’m seeing the sights I want you to keep out of the way.’

  It was his turn to wink. The young men smiled at one another in complete understanding.

  Morning brought Eve, so overwhelmed to have Daniel back she rushed to the kitchen to sit at the table and nibble nervously at her fingernails while she stared tearfully and unseeingly into space. Megan had never known Eve to bite her nails before. She felt uneasy and wished Daniel hadn’t come back, and without more ado she went to find him and tell him he couldn’t possibly stay at Tigh na Cladach.

  Just a few hours after Daniel’s return the island knew about it. Tigh na Cladach was instantly labelled a ‘house of sin’, more so now that the two men in it were up and about and able to indulge in ‘all sorts o’ mischief’.

  ‘I told you she’s a Jezebel.’ Elspeth was emphatic in her condemnation of the doctor and this time her cronies were inclined to agree with her as their nods and ‘ay’s’ so amply implied. ‘No’ content wi’ corruptin’ herself she’s inveigled Eve into her web as well – and after all the tragedies that’s happened in that family too. Tina is beside herself wi’ worry as well as grief, Eve was aye a lass for the lads but she was careful wi’ herself. The Lord alone knows what trouble s
he’ll get into wi’ that cityfied young man. He’s just brimful o’ fancies and conceit.’

  ‘Fancy having to go there and have our ails seen to by a doctor wi’ soiled hands,’ Old Sorcha snorted, her wig, which was a startling auburn shade, falling over one eye through all her energetic noddings. ‘’Tis no’ decent, no’ decent at all. I’m thinkin’ maybe I’d rather die than be at the mercy o’ a scarlet woman.’

  ‘A scarlet woman indeed!’ hooted Kate. ‘Were you no’ the very wifie to have three men bidin’ under your roof at one time and none o’ them husbands or brothers!’

  ‘That was a different state o’ affairs altogether, Kate McKinnon,’ Sorcha replied with dignity. ‘These were just innocent lodgers wi’ nothing more wicked in their heads than their own state o’ health and how much better they would be breathin’ in the good, clean island air.’

  ‘One was a keep fit fanatic,’ reminded Isabel, ‘wi’ muscles on him as big as a house and strength enough in him to take on a dozen wimmen at a time. But of course, you were in no danger there, Sorcha, we canny very well compare the likes o’ yourself wi’ a bonny young woman like Doctor Megan.’

  ‘See you and keep a respectful tongue in your head, Isabel McDonald!’ warned Sorcha, with such an indignant toss of her head that her wig landed squarely in Kate’s lap to lie there looking for all the world like a dejected stray cat.

  The very next day Daniel booked himself into Kate McKinnon’s good auspices for an indefinite period and one month’s keep in advance. A delighted Kate immediately forgot all the things she had said about the young man, and set about making him feel most welcome in her house by giving him the best spare room with a view of the sea and even going to the lengths of putting a china jug and basin in the wee hoosie so that he could wash his hands when he had finished his ablutions.

  Many of the houses on Rhanna were still without indoor plumbing and Kate cheerily voiced this fact to Daniel along with the hope that he wouldn’t find it a great inconvenience (here she skirled with hearty laughter) after being used to ‘the fancy modern ways o’ the mainland.’

  ‘Of course not, Mrs McKinnon,’ he assured her with one of his wide lazy smiles, ‘I find it all very refreshing and am looking forward to a long summer on Rhanna.’

  Kate was completely bowled over by his winning ways and dark, good looks. ‘Ach, call me Kate, everybody does, and I’ll just call you Danny. It’s easier than thon awful mouthful you cry yourself.’ She threw him a sidelong glance. ‘You’re here for the summer then? I hope you’ll no’ find the time hangin’ wearily on your hands for there’s no’ an awful lot here for folks who have been used to bright lights and busy places all their life.’

  ‘Kate, you misjudge me. I hate cities. Boats are my life, they’ve run in our family for generations. That’s one reason Steve and I are such good friends. We both love the same things. I’m a sail designer. Steve a boat builder. We were trying out some new sails on the Mermaid when we got caught in the storm,’ he grinned engagingly, ‘so don’t worry about me and how I’ll spend my time here. I’ll have plenty and enough to do getting the yacht put to rights as well as sampling all the beauties of Rhanna.’

  ‘Including those wi’ two legs,’ Kate fished bluntly.

  ‘Oh yes, those as well, I would be a poor sort of chap if I had failed to notice the local attractions. I’ve never seen such lovely girls, so natural and easy to get on with.’

  Kate was entranced. Later she voiced her feelings to Tam, ‘He’s a fine young man, that he is, and I take back everything I said about him. ’Tis no wonder Eve fell for him. She’s a lucky lass to have the likes o’ him take notice o’ her.’

  ‘You canny mean Mr Smellie!’ Tam was frankly astounded. ‘And you canny stand there and tell me he will be living here under our very own roof. The man is all mouth and I thought you o’ all people would hae seen the truth o’ that.’

  ‘Ach, you’re just jealous and blind,’ Kate stressed forcibly. ‘He’s a grand lad and I’ll like fine having him here so just you be mindin’ your manners in front o’ him, my lad. You will no’ be taking off your jacket or loosening your shirt collars in the house and that goes for your braces too – and if I see one glimpse o’ holey socks or dirty feets I’ll take and throw you in the burn wi’ my very own hands and that is no’ a threat – ’tis a promise.’

  Tam groaned and wished with all his heart that Mr Daniel Smylie Smith had never come back to Rhanna, while Kate bustled about, clearing the table and stoking the fire preparatory to making potato scones and mealy puddings, both delicacies for which she was renowned the length and breadth of the island.

  The village was stunned when news of Kate’s turnabout leaked out.

  ‘The – the traitor! And the cheek o’ her – after all her talk!’ fumed Sorcha, clicking her teeth in agitation at the thought of one month’s keep in advance. What was wrong with her house? she wondered furiously. It was only a short distance from Kate’s own and she had in the plumbing. She could soon have had the bath cleared of coal and surely nobody would have minded the cloths of croudie cheese and the pats of butter she kept stored on the cool bathroom shelves. That Kate! Somehow she always managed to wangle things to her own advantage – and it wasny fair! It was simply no’ fair! Sorcha was so incensed she turned up her hearing aid by mistake so that a loud whistling noise accompanied the chatter following her own remarks.

  ‘Ach, ’tis only her mealy puddings the mannie is after!’ Todd the Shod declared stoutly, wincing pointedly at Sorcha’s hearing aid and moving out of her vicinity. ‘Kate was aye sought after for her puddings and her homemade tattie scones.’

  ‘Ay,’ nodded Robbie, ‘she might make rock cakes as hard as the Sgor Creags themselves but the towrists come back year after year to sample her breakfasts and that’s about all for she canny very well get up to mischief wi’ Tam bidin’ in the same bed as herself.’

  Fingal grinned lecherously, ‘Och, use your head, man. Tam’s that drunk half the time, he wouldny know the difference supposin’ a dozen big chiels climbed into bed between himself and Kate.’

  ‘You are right there, Fingal,’ Sorcha took up the cudgels with a vengeance, ‘Kate has aye been a very eventual sort o’ woman. I’ve seen her at it too, dancin’ and fleerin’ wi’ other men behind Tam’s back and makin’ no bones about her likin’ for the physical side o’ life either.’

  ‘Essential,’ corrected Molly, ‘and turn your deaf aid down, Sorcha, you are makin’ so much noise you are no’ even hearin’ what your own self is saying.’

  Sorcha twiddled a knob and everyone was suddenly so deafened by the ensuing silence that all voices dropped an octave or two.

  ‘I was saying,’ Sorcha confided in a bass whisper, ‘about Kate. You mind that time Rachel and Jon Jodl bought thon cottage over by Croft na Ard? Well, Kate was for taking a wee house-warming gift to give to Rachel and came to me to see would I like to come along too. When we got there, there was a very strange smell in the house, sort o’ spicy and scented and curlin’ round all the wee corners so you couldny help but sniff in the reek o’ it. I’ve never smelt the likes in all my life so I asked Rachel, quiet like, and she told me it was incest. I was too shocked to utter a single word but when I looked there was Kate, swayin’ about and actin’ all queer as if the incest had got into her blood and she couldny help showin’ her essentials to the world.’

  ‘Ach, it would be incense!’ Molly snorted derisively. ‘Rachel has got some gey fancy ideas in her head wi’ her being such a big name now and mixing among all thon long-haired musicians wi’ all their acting and palaver. She goes about the house dressed in naught but a flowery kimona, wearing clasps in her hair and Jon starin’ at her as if he could eat her, his eyes all glaikit and wet behind his specs. As for Kate swayin’ and showin’ her essentials, she will only have been caught up in thon provocative oriental music Rachel plays on her gramophone. You wouldny have heard a note wi’ you being so deaf, Sorcha.’

  ‘That might be
so,’ Sorcha sounded rather deflated, ‘but it doesny alter the fact that Kate has aye had an eye open for chance, and if sillar’s involved she’s far worse than Ranald any day despite all her talk about the grasping ways o’ others. She’s encouraging that Smellie man to bide here on Rhanna for as long as he fancies, and by doing so she is condoning everything that has been going on and will go on going on under Doctor Megan’s roof. Mr Saunders is up and about now from what I hear. There will be no holding him back and I for one will no’ set foot in that house till the de’il takes his leave o’ it.’

  She glanced round, her lips folding in her plump, pleasant old face. ‘Well?’ she demanded expectantly.

  Robbie shuffled sheepishly, knowing fine what Barra would have to say to him if she discovered he had been indulging in the idle chitchat which she found so distasteful. ‘But, Sorcha,’ he protested, ‘we canny very well blacklist Doctor Megan’s house. What about when we’re ill and need her to see to us?’

  ‘I’d rather die in my own bed than go into that house,’ Sorcha declared stoutly.

  ‘Or maybe go to old Annack Gow and see will she cure us wi’ her herbs and other potions,’ suggested Molly, her sensible nature strenuously rejecting Sorcha’s drastic measures.

  ‘Ay, Annack was aye a dab hand wi’ her natural medicines.’ Todd the Shod sounded immensely cheered for he had no intention of suffering unduly to please Sorcha or anyone else, also, since Annack was a great believer in the ‘water of life’ to cure anything from ‘flu to rheumatics, the idea of her administering to him was not only appealing, it was imperative.

  ‘Well, maybe none o’ us will need either the doctor or Annack,’ said Fingal as everyone began to disperse. ‘The good weather is here now and I myself have never yet died when the sun is shining over the islands.’

  Daniel’s departure from Tigh na Cladach did little to still the gossiping tongues, rather it caused them to wag more vigorously than ever.