Storm Over Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  ‘She’s alone in there wi’ her fancy man.’ The shock waves of this realization reverberated from Portcull to Portvoynachan, from Croy to Nigg. ‘There will be no stopping them now he’s up on his feets, indeed nothing at all. The disgrace o’ it is beyond belief.’

  ‘Mr James will have to talk to them,’ Holy Smoke was beside himself with pious indignation. ‘If he canny make them mend their evil ways the Lord will smite them down wi’ hellfire and they will smoulder in damnation ever after.’

  ‘Ach no, the doctor doesny smoke,’ Behag simply couldn’t resist the ludicrous remark and was amply rewarded by the look of sheer guilt on the butcher’s mournful features. ‘’Tis only liars who do awful things in secret and pretend to the world they are as pure as the driven snow.’

  ‘Ay, like you wi’ your innocent wee cough bottles hidin’ in the salt girnel!’ Holy Smoke bounced back in no mean manner. ‘I will no’ forget that day you swallocked raw spirits in a public place, Miss Beag, I had thought better of you.’

  ‘At least I did it in a public place,’ Behag’s eyes glittered like red-streaked marbles, ‘no’ hidin’ in some wee corner like a sly ferret.’

  They went at it hammer and tongs. Behag was secretly delighted. At last! Holy Smoke was on her ground! She could better deal with this side of him than she could with his insincere, ingratiating ways and she enjoyed every minute of the ensuing verbal battle.

  The talk concerning Megan was not long in reaching Babbie’s ears. Her first instinct was to agree with it, her second to rebel at every last word being bandied about, for had not she, at her own choosing, deliberately and stubbornly placed herself in the self-same position as Megan when she had nursed her husband-to-be all these years ago? She had insisted on spending her nights in the same room as him at the risk of her good name, and though other people had been in the house it all amounted to the same thing in the end.

  ‘I’m going to have a talk with Megan,’ she told Anton determinedly, ‘she’s maybe not even aware of the gossip going on behind her back.’

  ‘Liebling,’ he took her in his arms and nuzzled her lips, ‘of course she’s aware. You would have to be minus every one of your senses to be able to ignore it.’ Quizzically, he regarded her. ‘Has it ever struck you – she perhaps doesn’t care what people think?’

  Babbie flushed angrily and tossed her red head. ‘Then she’ll have to be made to care. The feelings of others are at stake besides her own!’

  ‘Babbie,’ tenderly he crooked a thumb under her chin and brought her attractive little face close to his own once more, ‘have you forgotten what it’s like – to be young and in love?’

  ‘No, Anton Büttger, I have not, and that is why I must talk to Megan – she’s in love with the wrong man and I must stop it before it’s too late.’

  ‘Liebling, perhaps it is already too late,’ he suggested softly. ‘They knew one another before, don’t forget. She’s had plenty of time to think things over and know if she still loves this man or not.’

  ‘No, she hasn’t made up her mind. That’s what’s been eating at her since she came here. I don’t think any of us has seen the true Megan yet, the sort o’ girl she was before she met this empty-headed charmer. She’s forgotten how to enjoy her life, some women are like that. They are in love with the idea of romantic love and canny see the real thing when it’s staring them in the face. I think Megan has enjoyed torturing herself over this man, but she’s a grown woman and will have to face up to reality sometime—’

  ‘Babbie, Babbie,’ he chided laughingly, ‘if I didn’t know better I’d say you’ve become more than just a little fond of our lady doctor.’

  She stared at him, surprised. ‘You’re right, Anton. I have, I really didn’t like her at all at first – now,’ she spread her hands, her generous mouth curving into one of her radiant smiles, ‘you aye see the truth o’ things before I do – and while we’re on the subject of truth, how dare you suggest that I’m too well past it to remember what it’s like to be in love? I’ve never grown out of that particular state – and if you come upstairs with me this minute I’ll prove it to you.’

  ‘Even though we’ve only just got out of bed?’

  She giggled, putting her arms around him and kissing the tiny fair hairs at the side of his ear. ‘Daftie, it’s mainly because o’ that. I haven’t made it yet and am far too lazy to suggest anything that might entail extra work!’

  Slowly Babbie stirred her tea, looked thoughtfully at Megan, and cleared her throat. ‘Have you a minute to spare? I want to have a talk with you.’

  Carefully Megan lowered her cup onto her saucer and held up one protesting hand. ‘I know what you’re going to say, Babbie, and it was good of you to think enough of me to want to broach the subject. But – to hell with the gossips! I can take it. After all, it’s not as if it’s anything new, far from it. I’ve had myself talked about ever since I came here so I don’t really have a great deal to lose.’

  ‘Maybe you haven’t—’ Babbie’s quick temper flared and she knew she would have to control it or she could do more harm than good in the present situation. ‘But what about Mark? I’ve never been much o’ a churchgoer but I like and respect him and hate to see him getting hurt.’ Her voice was so controlled it came out cool and rather flat. ‘I, in common with many others, know only too well how much he cares for you, Megan. If you go on as you’re doing he will have lost everything he’s tried to gain these last months.’

  ‘How can he lose what he’s never won?’ Megan’s voice was low, she kept her head averted as if by doing so she could avoid the subject of Mark . . . Beyond the window the proud structure of the Manse loomed up – as if reminding her of what she had tried so desperately to forget since Steven’s return to her life. Whichever way she turned Mark seemed to pop up. All the windows on this side of the house looked towards the hills; the Hillock; the kirk; the Manse. Pop! Pop! Wherever she looked the picture of a tall, commanding presence was there in her vision, compelling, persuasive, beseeching . . .

  ‘Oh, damn the man!’ she cried, facing Babbie now, her hazel eyes filled with misery. ‘I never promised him anything! He was there, always just there, from the minute I arrived. I didn’t want to notice him but he made me – and now Steve’s back and I can’t go on pretending to Mark any longer! Not that I ever did. I told him to go away, not to hope, not to bother me.’

  ‘But all the time you didn’t really mean that?’ Babbie said softly.

  ‘No, I didn’t mean it. I was lonely, he was lonely, we found a certain solace in one another but it was a dangerous friendship. He was too serious, I couldn’t handle it . . .’

  ‘Really?’ Babbie couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

  ‘Yes, really, so take that knowing look off your face, Babbie.’ She put her hand to her head in a confused gesture and said half to herself, ‘I wish – oh God, how I wish—’

  ‘That your precious Steven hadn’t come back! Is that what you wish, Megan?’

  A flush spread over Megan’s face. ‘You really should mind your own business, Babbie, you don’t want to become an interfering busybody, I’m sure. We have enough of them with Elspeth and Behag around the place.’

  Babbie pushed her cup away and stood up, unable to keep the temper from showing in her glittering green eyes. ‘Like it or no you have your reputation to think about! You’re the island doctor, an individual who deserves and needs the respect of a community like this and I’m going to see you have it – even if it means you never speak to me, other than in a professional capacity, for the rest o’ your life!’

  Megan stood up also, placing her hands on the table and leaning forward so that she was glaring into Babbie’s angry face. ‘If you dare to interfere in my private life you could very well find your words coming true . . .!’

  Babbie didn’t wait to hear more. Patting her hat briskly into place, she marched from the room.

  ‘I mean it, Babbie!’ Megan shouted, but it was to the stout tim
bers of the front door. Babbie was already halfway down the path, swinging her nurse’s bag in such a nonchalant manner it made Megan more furious than ever.

  ‘Trouble?’ Steven came up behind her to slide his arms round her waist and nuzzle her ear with his tongue.

  She shivered at the touch but moved away from him. ‘Yes,’ she said in a low voice, ‘there seems to have been a lot of it since you came here, Steve, and I’ve – I’ve been thinking, it might really be better if you moved out of Tigh na Cladach and went somewhere else till you are ready to go home.’

  ‘Like hell I will!’ His face was livid, and grabbing her roughly by the arm he swung her round to face him. ‘What’s gotten into you, Megs? You do your best to avoid me at every turn and I’m damned if I’ll have it! Don’t you feel anything for me anymore?’

  Wrenching herself away from him, she shook her head and said wearily, ‘I don’t know what I feel, Steve – except I’m very, very tired of your constant demands on my time and energy and of all the talk that’s been going around since you and Daniel came to Rhanna so if you’ll excuse me I – I have things to do.’

  With that she left him, picking up her bag and letting herself out of the house, very aware that his blazing blue stare burned into her back as she walked as steadily as she could down the path to her car.

  That very evening Babbie came back, coolly walking past Megan and Steve in the hallway and going straight upstairs. In her hands she carried two suitcases and these she took to the room recently vacated by Daniel. Laying them on the bed she calmly began to walk round the room, straightening an ornament here, twitching a curtain into place there, then, when she was quite satisfied that all was to her liking, she turned and made her way back downstairs, once more passing Megan and Steven, this time on their way up.

  ‘Evening,’ she nodded pleasantly, ignoring Steven’s outraged look, Megan’s angry white face, ‘I won’t be a moment. Just open the window a wee crack, Mr Saunders, Mr Smellie has certainly been living up to his name, the room will need to be aired for a week. Your new lady guest looks the particular sort, we must give her a good impression.’

  In those terrible moments of rage, something truly astounding hit Megan. Babbie was behaving as only a true friend would behave, outrageously, daringly, fully believing that she was doing what she thought was best in the circumstances. Megan had always known that she was only tolerated by the island nurse. Babbie had been perfectly happy working with Lachlan, so contented that she had taken the coming of a new doctor very badly indeed. Between herself and Megan there had been an atmosphere, their work together had lacked spontaneity, talk had been stilted and mainly confined to medical matters – now Babbie was her friend, and in amongst her turmoil of mind there came a feeling of such gladness she found herself laughing and crying at the same time.

  When Steven, his mouth twisted, demanded to know what she found so exquisitely funny, all she could gasp out was, ‘She’s my friend! Babbie’s my friend.’

  ‘Friend? Some friend! An interfering busybody more like. She deserves nothing better than to be banned from this house forever. She’s ruined everything between us, Megan, and all you can do is stand there bursting your sides laughing.’

  ‘Steve,’ she collapsed onto the narrow single bed and reached for his hand, ‘we’ll still have plenty of time together and at least this might stop the gossip, you won’t have to move out after all.’

  He had no time to answer. Babbie was coming back upstairs, accompanied by a genteel-looking, silvery-haired lady with a sweetly sculptured face and a refined, though rather loud voice.

  Introductions were made. Mrs Dolly Hosheit gazed round the room in approval then beamed fondly on Babbie, ‘I’m so grateful to you for finding me this delightful place, my dear. My poor departed husband was an American and most of our married life was spent in that country. His greatest desire was to visit Scotland and tour the islands seeking his roots but unfortunately it wasn’t to be. I’m his ambassador as it were, and I mean to go to all the places he used to speak about with such fondness. His Scottish blood was in his maternal side of the family – the Clearances you know, so long ago but one never lets go of such a turbulent and wonderful past – oh, the view! The view!’ she shrieked, clasping her hands together. ‘I just love listening to the sea, it lulls me to sleep and with me being such a light sleeper I’ll be glad to waken and hear the waves outside my window – oh, and you did say the church wasn’t far from here? I never miss Sunday worship if I can help it. My father was an English vicar, you know, and old habits die hard, yes indeed –’ she turned her smile on Megan, ‘so, it’s early to bed and early to rise – but you being a doctor will know all about that, poor dear.

  ‘Never mind, you shan’t disturb me – I’m up with the lark every morning and I’m so looking forward to a real Scottish breakfast – porridge, new laid eggs, buttered bannocks and of course, black pudding. Emmit, my husband you know, used to talk and talk about all the things he would see, and hear, and eat, when he came to visit the Scottish islands – but I’m talking too much. It’s just, I’m so excited by this marvellous island and this lovely old house—’

  Steven had had enough. With a disgusted snort, he left the room. Babbie caught Megan’s eye and fancied she saw a twinkle there. Leaving Mrs Dolly Hosheit to her raptures they moved out into the passageway, safely out of earshot.

  ‘And just where did you find her, I’d like to know?’ demanded Megan menacingly.

  Babbie, displaying great interest in a spider’s web stretched delicately in an overhead corner, said carelessly, ‘Oh, she had come off the steamer only to find the hotel full and all the B&B signs covered over. I found her seated on her cases at the foot of the Hillock looking very tired and woebegone so I just popped her in my car and drove her here.’

  ‘And if you hadn’t found Mrs Dolly Hosheit, what would you have done?’

  ‘I would have found some other poor soul – the island abounds with visitors looking for accommodation at this time of the year.’

  ‘Babbie Büttger – I should despise you.’

  ‘And do you?’

  ‘No – in fact I think it’s the funniest thing that’s happened in this house for many a long day.’

  Fresh laughter seized her. She collapsed against the banister, cupping her hands to her mouth in an effort to smother her mirth.

  Mrs Dolly Hosheit was singing. The strains of ‘The Skye Boat Song’ floated with great exuberance out to the landing.

  Babbie let out a huge snort, and sinking onto the top step she buried her head in her arms and laughed fit to burst.

  Part Three

  Summer 1966

  Chapter Fourteen

  Ruth’s novel had taken some time to filter through to the islands, and when it finally reached Rhanna it was greeted with a great deal of interest. The womenfolk sat into the ‘wee sma’ hours’ devouring its contents, much to the disgust of the men who denounced the book as ‘romantic nonsense’ without having glanced at a single word. Yet these same men sneaked away to secluded places to read and enjoy, to laugh and to cry, as heartily as had their wives, sweethearts, and sisters.

  All over Rhanna wee hoosies were commandeered for suspiciously long periods of time, and out would come the castor oil or the ‘skitter cure’ to send the menfolk running back to the wee hoosies, this time for longer periods and none of them spent in the pages of a book.

  People passing by on the roads would wonder why a horse waited patiently in its cart shafts at the side of a field, little guessing that its master was in the near vicinity, his back to the sunny side of a dyke, his nose buried in the first novel of Ruth Naomi McKenzie of Failte.

  Ruth walked tall, her limp forgotten, a euphoria in her that she knew would always remain now. It might fade a little, become pushed aside in the course of everyday living, but it would be forever a part of her life, there to boost her up when she felt low, lift her spirits whenever they flagged.

  In a drawer in her bedro
om reposed all the newspaper cuttings that had covered the launch of her book. She still couldn’t believe any of that had happened, and from time to time she reminded herself by taking the articles out and reading them over and over till she knew almost every word by heart.

  Lorn was so proud of her he bought her a little car of her own, and as soon as she was able to drive she felt herself to be on top of the world. In many ways she was still the Ruth everyone knew, quiet, reticent about her achievements, but the shy hesitancy was gone, in its place came a new confidence, she carried her golden head high, walked with a new spring in her step, smiled more and worried less.

  ‘She’ll be gettin’ big-headed,’ decided Behag vindictively, ‘all thon palaver and fuss she had in Glasgow canny have been good for the lass.’

  ‘Even though the palaver and fuss you had wi’ thon tin medal o’ yours was good for you,’ pointed out Kate. ‘At least we can all get the benefit o’ Ruth and her writing while you’re about the only one to get any sort o’ queer pleasure gazing at yon medallion in its frame on the wall.’

  ‘It is all a question o’ taste,’ Elspeth put in sourly, ‘I myself have felt no benefit at all from reading Ruth’s book. I might have known it would all be about lust wi’ men and wimmen thirsting after each other’s bodies.’

  ‘Love,’ corrected Barra firmly, ‘Ruth’s book is about love and I think it was beautiful just. There is a difference between love and lust, Elspeth. ’Tis just a pity you canny see it, if so you might be a more contented woman the day.’

  ‘All things come to she who waits,’ intoned Elspeth primly. ‘In all my years o’ marriage to Hector I never knew what love was like between a man and a woman, but there’s time and enough yet and I have neither the time nor the inclination to stand here indulging in idle gossip. If you’ll be excusin’ me, I mustny keep Isaac waitin’ any longer.’