Storm Over Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  In minutes he was back, arms full of juicy red rhubarb sticks which he thrust at the dentist mannie. ‘This is the best, the best you’ll ever taste,’ he explained earnestly. ‘It might no’ be very good for your teeths but it is a fine tonic for the bowels and will keep you busy for quite a whilie if you eat too much o’ it.’

  The dentist was lost for words. Making a strange half bow he went quickly away, clutching his bag and his rhubarb sticks and a bunch of yellow pansies that Dodie had thoughtfully placed in his hands at the very last moment.

  Old Joe was next on the agenda. Mr McQuarry had saved him to the end as he always enjoyed a lengthy chat with the old man. He had already taken an impression of the old man’s mouth and now it was just a case of getting the final bite in the dental wax he heated over the little Bunsen burner he had brought with him.

  ‘I see you’ve been to visit Dodie,’ commented Old Joe, grimacing at the taste of the hot wax in his mouth while he eyed the rhubarb and the flowers that Mr McQuarry had deposited on a table by the door.

  ‘Indeed I have,’ the dentist breathed heavily at the memory, ‘a very strange creature he is too, he seems to think his cow is some sort of ghost returned from the dead and looked queet bewildered when I told him she was alive and well.’

  Old Joe’s eyes twinkled. ‘You have to know Dodie to understand him, his cow did die on him last summer but the laird gave him another one recently together wi’ a crofthouse. He’s near beside himself wi’ the excitement o’ it all and canny explain things too well the now.’

  ‘I see, I see,’ the dentist was greatly relieved at the revelation, ‘I really thought he was – er – queet round the bend but now I see it was all just a misunderstanding – though of course, he is what you might call a very eccentric type of person.’

  ‘We have a few o’ them on Rhanna,’ Old Joe observed mischievously.

  ‘I quite agree with you there, Joe.’ The dentist spoke with feeling, still smarting as he was with humiliation over Sorcha and her wig.

  ‘Ay, you’ll have come across one or two in the last few days.’ Old Joe chuckled, then growing serious he said urgently, ‘I will have my new teeths in time, eh, Niven?’

  ‘Of course you will, Joe, I’ll get my secretary to send them by first-class post the minute they are ready. It may take queet some time but we have a very good dental mechanic at our disposal and he doesn’t waste time footering around.’

  ‘And they’ll be as happy lookin’ as your own, Niven? I aye liked the way your teeths went smilin’ themselves about, cheerin’ everybody up.’

  ‘Ay, Joe, as happy as mine,’ nodded the dentist, and left the house with a tear in his eye for he knew he would never see the old man again.

  Shortly after that he sailed away from Rhanna, leaving in his wake an array of filled, polished and shining teeth plus many assurances to the older Gaels that their dentures would be posted as soon as was humanly possible.

  In due course a large parcel arrived at the Post Office which, when opened, revealed a number of small boxes nestling snugly in their wrappings, each one beautifully wrapped and labelled in a tiny old-fashioned script that was very nearly indecipherable.

  ‘I canny make head nor tail o’ this writing,’ cried Totie, aghast. ‘Look, Doug, see if you can make out the names on these boxes.’

  Doug applied his specs to his nose and studied the writing. ‘As far as I can see there’s a lot o’ McKinnons here, on the other hand they might be McKnights or McLeans or any Mac you care to mention but as there’s such a lot o’ McKinnons on the island it must be that. As for the rest – well, I’ll have to study them a whole lot harder before I can even begin to guess.’

  Totie gave an exasperated sigh. ‘McKinnons, ay, but what McKinnons? I canny make out the initials – och, to hell wi’ this! I’m going to phone that mannie McQuarry and ask him what he expects us to do about this.’

  But Niven McQuarry was not available, his secretary answered the phone in a pale, small fluttery voice that identified itself as belonging to a Miss Victoria Bird.

  Miss Bird sounded rather hurt when Totie expressed her strong opinions regarding the handwriting on the boxes. ‘Really? Oh dear, I’ve never had any complaints before—’

  ‘Miss Bird’ (how appropriate, Totie thought), ‘have you ever had cause to send a parcel of dentures to the islands before?’

  ‘Well, no, you see I haven’t been here very long, though of course I have been doing secretarial work to doctors and dentists all my life and have considerable experience to my credit—’

  ‘But you’ve never sent dentures by post before?’

  ‘Well, no,’ Miss Bird pulled up her chin and straightened the revers of her neat grey suit. Totie could hear the rustlings and could almost see the tightening of the severe lips. ‘You see, Mrs – what did you say? – Donaldson, I have never had cause to post dentures anywhere, far less the islands. All my patients, you see, come to the surgery to have their teeth fitted and this is a completely new departure for me. Mr McQuarry,’ here she fluttered badly and cleared her throat, ‘Mr McQuarry has had several secretaries before me and now I can quite see why. A most unusual man, you would think it was enough for him to carry on his business here in the capital but no – off he jaunts every few months, trading his wares in the Highlands and islands, and for the life of me I cannot see why. It can’t be for the money, he is a well-to-do man from all accounts, but there you are – peculiar traits will out and of course . . .’

  ‘Miss Bird, can you help me at all with this matter?’

  ‘Oh, well, dear me, I don’t really see what I can do and it’s no use asking Mr McQuarry because he would just jump down my throat and tell me it’s my job – though mind you, I never realized when I took it on just how much would be involved and I simply cannot take on the responsibility of dispensing dentures to all and sundry if this is going to be the result—’

  ‘Miss Bird, could you no’ have typed the labels?’ suggested Totie patiently.

  ‘What? Typed? Yes well, that’s all and fine but I have always used a manual machine and I’m a wee bit wary of Mr McQuarry’s new-fangled electric thing – some strange golf ball affair which in my opinion is utter nonsense. Golf balls belong in golf courses, not dentists’ offices. The thing is utterly erratic. It whizzes about and makes all sorts of errors if one dares to tap a key by mistake and besides, I seem to have jammed the awful thing and don’t like to tell Mr McQuarry about it. He can be quite off-putting, you know, if one dares put a foot out of place and I have always been the sort of woman who likes to keep the peace. That was the reason I handwrote the labels, Mrs . . .’

  ‘Donaldson – and, Miss Bird, you could have saved us both a lot o’ time if you had mentioned all that in the first place.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t ask, just went on and on in such an excitable way. Oh dear, I feel quite faint. I am not used to this sort of thing, you see. I was brought up in a respectable home where I was taught never to engage in argument of any kind with people who will argue just for the sake of it. My father was a wonderful man, God rest him, a brilliant scholar you know and a professor of languages at Edinburgh University. He taught all three of his daughters at home though the boys of course were sent away to school when they were old enough. Mother too was an academician, owing to the fact that her father was a vicar who believed that girls as well as boys should have their chance in life. She too was taught at home and . . .’

  Miss Bird rambled off into a world of her own. Totie made several valiant attempts to get her back onto the pertinent track but it was a hopeless task.

  ‘Miss Bird – goodbye,’ she said eventually, and putting down the phone she collapsed with a fervent ‘phew’ onto the little stool that was so beloved by Behag, the indentation of her bottom was imprinted into the tapestry seat for all time. ‘That was a waste of time, Doug, we’ll just have to try and sort out these names ourselves and pray to heaven we get them right.’

  They were up half t
he night, painstakingly trying to decipher Miss Bird’s script with the aid of a huge magnifying glass and endless cuppies. In the end, still uncertain about their eventual conclusions, they arose, stretched, and repaired wearily to bed, telling each other they would just have to trust to providence and a whole lot of luck.

  Next morning a notice appeared in the Post Office window for the benefit of the residents of Portcull and District, while several of the packages were conveyed to various other parts of the island via Erchy and his post van.

  By the end of the day all those concerned had received a set of new dentures, and it was as well that the first fitting of these took place in the privacy of bedroom, bathroom, or water closet, for the apparitions that looked back from respective mirrors were grotesque enough to frighten the most level-headed Rhanna-ite ever to be born.

  Yet hardly a murmur of derision against the perpetrator of such an almighty blunder was heard anywhere. Some sighed, blamed age for its inflexibility in all things, and shoved the new dentures in beside ancient sets that had never fitted either; the more stoic persevered grimly, suffering much torture in the process, while some spirited members of the population gritted toothless gums and vowed to ‘get that dentist mannie’ next time he dared to show his face on Rhanna.

  Lachlan first suspected something was amiss when he tried one morning to engage Behag in a few pleasantries. Clapping her hand to her mouth she emitted a series of unintelligible sounds before scuttling away, red-faced with embarrassment. A similar experience overtook Babbie when she had cause to visit old Annack Gow of Nigg. The old lady, normally so garrulous that it took Babbie all her time to keep up, muttered and mumbled under the scarf she had tied round the lower part of her face. When Babbie asked if she was suffering from a sore throat, she seized gladly on the excuse and showed the nurse the door without even a mention of a strupak, the quality and quantity of which Annack was renowned for. Babbie had told Anton whom she was going to see that morning and had boasted that she would bring back the usual bag of seed cakes, a delicacy they both loved, and she was childishly disappointed to find herself empty-handed on the doorstep, gazing in bewilderment at the firmly shut door.

  ‘I don’t understand it,’ she confided in Lachlan, ‘old Annack has never done that before, in fact I can never get away from her house without taking half the larder with me, and though she agreed she had a sore throat she wouldny let me look at it, far less give her something to help it.’

  ‘Annack has her own cures,’ laughed Lachlan. He looked thoughtful. ‘You know, I experienced much the same thing the other day with Behag. She muttered something under her hand and went haring away like a scalded cat. I just hope we’re no’ in for a crop o’ sore throats or ‘flu though it seems a bit early in the year for either.’

  The same thing was happening all over the island, with normally gregarious old folk keeping conspicuously out of the way, even on the finest days. The situation remained so for several days until Lachlan overheard a strangely distorted conversation between Todd the Shod and Jim Jim down by the harbour.

  ‘I’ve lost three pounds in body weight,’ Todd was confiding mournfully, patting his rounded belly as if hoping to find all the loss from that quarter. ‘I canny eat, I canny sleep for hunger, and when Molly isny lookin’ I just take the damt things out and carry them in my pouch.’

  ‘Ach well, Isabel is in the same boat as myself so we both just take them out to eat and put them back in again for show – though what’s showy about teeths that hang down like thon stiff frills my granny used to put up at her windows, is beyond me!’ He was about to hurl a gobbet of spit to the cobbles but hastily refrained from doing so. ‘Damt things! I canny even spit in case they go fleein’ out and smash themselves to pieces though that might be no bad thing . . .’ He studied Todd’s face reflectively. ‘Here, how would it be if we was to try one another’s for size? Anything is better than this buggering agony.’

  So saying, he removed his dentures and swilled them round in Ranald’s rain barrel while Todd did likewise. Tentatively the respective teeth were inserted and clattered together experimentally.

  ‘Here! These fit!’ Jim Jim exclaimed with joy.

  ‘These too – like a glove! Well, is that no’ strange, Jim Jim? Very strange indeed. I’m thinkin’ maybe somebody has had our teeths mixed up – I didny like the look o’ the label on that boxie I got, it could have been anybody’s name.’

  Lachlan, realizing at once what had happened, vacated the scene with alacrity and hurried home to tell Phebie about it, Babbie too, the minute she put in an appearance.

  ‘No wonder the proud old rascals hid away in their houses,’ she giggled. ‘To some it wouldny matter one way or another since they’ve never worn teeth for years. Others wouldny be seen dead without dentures in their heads and would persevere even supposing their mouths were filled with lumps o’ cement.’

  ‘But, what’s to be done?’ Phebie wanted to know. ‘We can’t very well go around chapping the doors on a teeth sorting mission.’

  Lachlan’s eyes gleamed. ‘I have an idea. It will take some organizing but with a bittie luck it might work.’

  Within a short time, notices were posted in every shop window that the villages of Portvoynachan and Portcull boasted. When Totie and Dugald received theirs, they were utterly dismayed at the contents. ‘We never got them right after all,’ Dugald gulped guiltily.

  ‘Ach, it’s no’ our fault, Doug,’ comforted Totie, ‘if I could get a hold o’ that Miss Bird I would personally thraw her neck for her, but wishful thinking will get us nowhere. We’ll just have to put these notices up and hope to God Lachlan’s idea works.’

  It did, beautifully. As soon as it was clear that everyone had got the message, so to speak, Lachlan set up a denture sorting station in the Portcull village hall. From all the airts the old folk came, arriving in every kind of transport imaginable, furtively bearing little packages which were received by Phebie in an egg basket at the door. When all the teeth had been collected (‘all the wallies in one basket,’ Phebie couldn’t resist chuckling), everyone was directed to wait in a screened-off section of the hall while she bore the basket to Shona, who carefully unwrapped each packet. So well tied were some that they might have contained gold rather than dentures, but eventually the job was done. Shona went off to make tea for the waiting throng while Babbie, Lachlan, and Phebie laid out the teeth on a well-scrubbed table, taking care to keep the different sets together. Nobody could quite keep a straight face and it was amidst much banter that everything was arranged satisfactorily.

  One by one the islanders were bade enter, the comparative youngsters in their ranks squirming with embarrassment and the ‘shame o’ it all’.

  One after another the various sets were tried for size, and when eventually a pair were found to fit, the recipient went off, grinning mightily with triumphant relief, leaving ‘the teeth committee’, as they had mischievously christened themselves, to wash the remaining sets in bowls of fresh water which had been treated with antiseptic.

  Gradually the pile of dentures diminished so that before long the last ‘customer’ made good his escape, leaving the hall empty but for the four committee members sitting back to enjoy a well-earned cuppy. Only one set remained, and these Lachlan had wrapped carefully to deliver personally to Old Joe who had been ‘champing at the bit’ since the start of all the bother.

  ‘Do you know what I thought was the funniest thing of all?’ Shona choked into her tea at the recollection. ‘Old Annack Gow demanding to know who had been wearing which dentures in case she might be taking a set that had been used by one of her least liked cronies.’

  ‘I know, I know,’ Phebie chuckled. ‘And Behag wanting to be first in for the first try in case she got germs from the rest.’

  ‘And Fingal popping his into his peg leg where he says he aye keeps them to bite the ferrets who bite him.’

  ‘Ay,’ grinned Lachlan, ‘and old Jock of Rumhor saying he didn’t want the set
that looked like a horse’s—’

  ‘And finding they were his in the end!’ shrieked Babbie, laughing so hard she toppled off her stool to land plunk in the egg basket Phebie had used to collect the teeth.

  Over the next few days Holy Smoke’s shop had never been busier, with rump steak and pork chops tops for favourites. Dinner tables all over Rhanna sizzled with savoury meats and kitchens rang with the sound of much diligent chomping, made by those who had only partaken of soups and saps ever since Miss Bird’s packages had fallen into the wrong hands, or to be more accurate, into the long-suffering jaws of proud old Gaels who would never forget the summer of 1966, when the arrival of ‘the dentist mannie’ had set off a chain of events that was to be the talk of the place for many a long day to come.

  Part Four

  Autumn/Winter 1966

  Chapter Nineteen

  There was a smell of autumn in the air as Shona and Tina walked along to the Manse, their feet stirring up the first yellow leaves to fall from the elms that lined the driveway. It was a calm, damp evening, the smoke from the Manse chimneys spiralled up into an overcast, wet-looking sky, pockets of pearly mist lay in the corries of the hills and swirled in ghostly wraiths over the great wide stretches of the Muir of Rhanna.

  Shona gave a little skip as she went along, breathing deeply of the rich scents around her, playfully kicking the tiny, gnarled windfall apples that were lying half-hidden among the leaves. She savoured the few hours of freedom away from Mo Dhachaidh for, much as she loved her home, her babies and her animals, they could all be a handful at times, and she blessed Niall for insisting that she go over to visit Tina who had promised to show her how to make rum fudge.

  But Tina had left the recipe at the Manse along with some others and now they made their way there, Tina talking in her calm, unruffled way. As time passed, she had grown more like the Tina everyone knew. When she spoke of Matthew now it was not of how he had died but to recall some pleasant happening they had shared together. Only when Eve came into the conversation did the old worried frown crease her smooth brow as, since Daniel’s departure, her daughter had grown morose and moody and tended more and more to want her own company. She didn’t even have the stimulation of ‘seeing to Doctor Megan’, and often went alone to the house by the sea to unlock it and go inside to clean and polish and wander through the empty rooms.