Storm Over Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Shona at once applied her attention to Mark. He was unconscious but still breathing, and for a few shocked moments she could only stare in horrified fascination at his rain-pocked face, at the rivers of soot washing down from his thick black hair. Then her nurse’s training came flooding back, forcing the sensible, level-headed side of her to take charge and do for him everything she could.

  ‘Dodie’s gone back in!’ Tina said in horror, her head jerking round as voices came from below, heralding the arrival of a dozen or so village men who, having been alerted by Todd the Shod, had come armed with buckets and bags of sand and anything else that might come in useful for fighting a fire.

  Dodie came staggering back outside, holding in his arms the lifeless body of Mutt, his golden fur blackened by smoke, his big floppy paws dangling uselessly down, his head lolling, one long curly ear covering his eyes, his pink tongue hanging from the side of his muzzle. The men rushed past Dodie, carrying brimming pails which they had filled from the stream that wound its way through the Manse garden.

  Dodie collapsed to the ground, tears marking a grimy course down his face. Laying the dog down, he tenderly arranged the paws so that Mutt looked as if he lay in a composed and peaceful sleep, still of the earth and ready to awake to its joys when the hour of rest was done. The rain washed his fur, cleansing away the smoke so that the bright colour shone through and even his muzzle showed the little patch of white that had made Mark James pick him out of the litter in the first place.

  Dodie put his hands to his face and cried sorely. ‘I’m sorry I didny save him too,’ he sobbed, ‘he was aye such a good doggie and would meet me at the door wi’ a big happy smile whenever I came to the Manse to see Mr James.’

  Shona, who had covered the minister with her own coat, got to her feet to go to Dodie and put a comforting arm round him. ‘Dodie,’ she murmured soothingly, ‘you did a wonderful thing tonight – you saved a human life and are a very brave man.’

  ‘I didny save him,’ he choked miserably, ‘the doggie did. I heard him barking and went running up the brae – but it was too late for him, he was cooried into the minister’s arms when I found them but I couldny take two at the same time, I just hadny the strength – so I had to leave that bonny beast behind and I feel terrible just.’

  ‘Ach, come on, Dodie,’ said Tina kindly, ‘you mustny feel like that. Mutt was likely already dead when you got here, his lungs would be too wee to take much o’ they awful fumes so just you stop blaming yourself and be thankful to God you saved the life o’ our very own Mr James.’

  It took the men just half an hour to rid the kitchen of fire. Most of it had been confined to the bedding on the table and had given off more smoke than flame, so that the damage to property was minimal. By the time the men were finished, Lachlan and Babbie had arrived and Mark James was taken to Slochmhor where he received the best possible attention. A few days later he left Rhanna for a mainland hospital, accompanied by Shona and Tina, the only people he trusted enough to be near him for, on hearing that his beloved dog had died in the fire, he blamed himself and suffered a collapse.

  Mutt alone perished in the fire. The cats had escaped through the open window, leaving behind the smoke and the flames and a little dog who had stayed faithfully by his master’s side, and who had died so bravely in the arms that had held him so often in the good days of dreaming and peace and sweet happy contentment.

  Chapter Twenty

  Megan returned to Rhanna at the end of September without telling anyone she was coming, not even Shona with whom she had corresponded once or twice during her absence. She wasn’t quite sure herself why she did this but, deep down, something in her had to know that she had been missed, that the surprise displayed at her unannounced arrival would be of pleasure rather than mere acceptance that she was back.

  The golden leaves of autumn swirled about her feet as she walked along to Tigh na Cladach. She saw with fresh eyes the harbour and the bay, the white houses of Portcull whose chimneys were puffing peat smoke into the tangy air.

  In a surge of ecstasy she raised her head to sniff in the remembered scent of it and to gaze with appreciation at the bulk of Sgurr nan Ruadh, as red as its name suggested, furred with bracken that glowed like fire in the sunset. The slopes were scattered with rowans, so heavily laden with berries that their branches dipped down to amber grasses that were mottled with purple scabious and delicate blue harebells.

  And all around was the heather, miles and miles of it, spreading its purple haze over great tracts of moorland and all along the verges.

  Everything was muted in tones of blue, with the hill peaks receding back, back, growing paler as they went, their outlines further softened by pearly mists that rose up from the corries to wander wherever the gentle breezes took them.

  Megan wanted to hold out her arms as if to embrace it all to a heart that had pined for such glories, for so many things about this island she had grown to love almost against her will, and it was with a strange, breathless catch in her throat that her eyes travelled up the slopes of the Hillock to the kirk and the Manse chimneys silhouetted against the sky.

  But all was quiet and empty-looking up there, with not even a wisp of smoke to tell her that the man who had never left her thoughts these last long weeks was so near to her now that all she had to do was to climb the brae, knock on his door and he would be there.

  But of course it wouldn’t be that easy. There was so much to say, so much to explain. She would start by telling him that she and Steven had gone their separate ways as soon as the Mermaid had reached the mainland, and that she was now free in mind, heart and spirit to love him in the way he deserved to be loved – if he still wanted her. She could hardly bear to think otherwise, yet she was aware of how badly his heart had been bruised, of how much she had hurt him. She would have to try and make him understand her confusion at Steven’s return to her life, and that the only way she could sort things out had been to go away in order to get everything into its proper perspective.

  She sighed. She would have to prepare herself for that first meeting – and before she was ready to face Mark she needed time to settle in and familiarize herself again with her surroundings.

  Turning in at the gate of Tigh na Cladach, a pang of dismay went through her when she saw the garden. The flower beds were sodden, the grass awash with puddles of sea water. Great dollops of seaweed were draped about the walls or lay rotting on the tiny lawn; dahlias and chrysanthemums hung their heads for lack of support; her vegetable plot was choked with weeds. She had only been gone a matter of weeks yet already a sorry air of neglect pervaded the little garden that had been her pride. Her spirits lifted when she turned the key in the door and went inside. She was struck by the fresh smell of polish that met her. All the rooms were clean and bright, with not a single speck of dust or a spider’s web in sight and on the windowsills were fresh posies of wild flowers straight from the hills.

  With a little yelp of joy, she bounced down into one of the chintzy armchairs in the sitting room to gaze around her and absorb it all anew.

  It was lovely, so lovely to be home, for this was her home now, all it had needed to help her realize the fact were these long weeks spent away from it.

  Rhanna and all it meant was her reality, the place she wanted to be above all others and she could hardly wait to get started again, to begin afresh. Pushing back her hair with a carefree hand, she jumped to her feet and got busy lighting fires, something inside of her rejoicing in the jubilant thought that soon her smoking chimneys would proclaim to the island that Doctor Megan was back to ‘cure its wee ails’ once again. Her peat smoke would soon merge with all the other blue banners in the vicinity, marrying with them, blending and mixing and ‘no’ a soul able to do anything about it’.

  Giggling at her own frivolous train of thought, she said aloud, ‘See my smoke, Mark, know I’m home, and be glad – oh please be glad.’

  Her step was light as she went from room to room, checking on her
fires, renewing her acquaintance with her rose-sprigged bedroom, her bright little bathroom, the views from her windows. She danced up and downstairs on feet that seemed to walk on air, behaving in fact as the schoolgirl Megan had behaved on her holidays in Wales, when her mother couldn’t do anything with her until she had explored every last part of the old house in the valley as if to reassure herself that nothing had changed during her months away at school.

  And now she was that child again, a rosy bloom in her cheeks, her hazel eyes sparkling, singing as she went about the house, smiling as she lit the oil lamps, glad that for this one night she could live as she had lived before she had acquired a generator so cantankerous, it often cut out just when she most needed it and required the expertise of Todd the Shod to get it going again.

  But tonight she revelled in lamplight and firelight and found it quite a novelty to go into the kitchen and prepare her supper on the range, working by the flickering glow of candles and one paraffin lamp.

  And that was how Eve found her, sitting at the fire with her plate balanced on her knee, the teapot singing on the hob, the kitchen warm and welcoming with its soft lights and fire shadows dancing on the walls.

  ‘I saw the smoke and came as soon as I could,’ Eve explained a bit breathlessly, a smile of real pleasure lighting her face for she had missed the young doctor and was truly glad to see her home again.

  ‘Eve,’ Megan set aside her plate and, jumping up, hugged the girl warmly, ‘I expected dust and neglect on my return but instead found only one tiny wee cobweb cowering away in a corner.’

  ‘Oh, where?’ Eve cried in consternation, then relaxed and laughed along with the doctor who was holding her at arm’s length and studying her quizzically. ‘You look lovely, Eve, you’ve put on weight and are so happy-looking.’

  Eve’s colour deepened. ‘Pregnancy isny an illness, as no doubt you have told a few o’ your patients in your time.’

  ‘Pregnancy! Eve! You’re not!’

  ‘Ay, ’tis Dan’s bairn right enough. At first I wanted to die, especially when he went away and I kent fine I would never see him again. He was only playing himself, you see, my mother was right all along but I was foolish enough to think he was serious about me—’ she smiled her gentle smile. ‘It’s over now, Doctor Megan. I will cry no more tears for him for I know well enough now that he wasny worth a single one.’

  ‘And – Tina, your mother, does she know?’

  Eve’s head sank a little. ‘Ay, she does now. I was so moody and strange she sat me down at the fire one night and demanded to know what ailed me. It was very strange that, hearing my mother so firm and determined. She has aye been so calm and soft-spoken but since Father died there’s been a wee change in her. It doesny often show but it’s there, below the surface, and I suppose it will aye be there now. I hated myself for bringing more trouble on her but she was so understanding . . .’

  A tear misted Eve’s eyes at the recollection of how her mother had reacted to the news, without surprise, as if she had known all along and was prepared for it. For a good few minutes she hadn’t made comment then she had smiled, that oddly radiant smile of hers, a little catch in her throat when she had said, ‘Well, Eve, I canny say I’m pleased at you but I know well enough that rare is the lass who can go through life keeping her hand on her halfpenny all the time. You have done well in that respect for I was just a slip o’ a girl when I let go o’ mine, though of course I had your father’s wedding ring on my finger at the time and it would have been a bittie awkward, no’ to say painful, if I hadny got it out the way quick.’

  At that they had both collapsed on the sofa and laughed till they were sore, and though Tina had later talked seriously to her daughter there had been no tears or recriminations.

  Megan sighed. ‘I’m sorry you were treated so badly by Daniel, I know how much you loved him.’

  ‘How much I thought I loved him,’ Eve said quickly, taking the cup of tea Megan poured for her and sitting down to drink it. ‘I was never in love wi’ him, it was just a flame that burned for a wee whilie and if I saw him again I really believe we would have nothing at all else in common.’

  ‘I know exactly what you mean, Eve, only I wasn’t as clear-sighted as you. I hung on to memories and believed in my heart they were real and true until . . .’

  ‘Steve came back and you knew you had been clinging to dreams.’

  Megan smiled. ‘You’re also wiser than I am, Eve, I wish I had talked to you like this before.’

  ‘Ach, I’m like my mother. I read a lot o’ these romantic novels and get carried away by them. I was in love wi’ the idea o’ romance and Dan just happened to be in the right place at the right time.’ She gazed into her cup. ‘I hope one day I’ll meet someone who will want me – for what I am and no’ just for a bit of fun.’

  ‘Oh, you will, Eve, you will,’ Megan assured softly, real affection in her heart for the young woman who had always been there at Tigh na Cladach but to whom she had never really spoken till now. In just a short time a bond had sprung up between them, born of hurtful experiences for which they had both suffered in their own, individual ways.

  ‘You’re luckier than me,’ Eve went on, ‘you had someone who really loved you and would have died to have you for his own—’ she stopped abruptly, thinking she had said too much, but Megan was not offended.

  ‘You mean Mark of course and you’re right. He’s worth a million of Steve and I only hope I can make him understand that. I’ve hurt him so much and pray that it isn’t too late to let him know . . .’ She broke off, the look on Eve’s face filling her with sudden dread, ‘Eve, what is it? You seem—’

  ‘Doctor Megan!’ Eve burst out. ‘I thought maybe you had heard – och, but how could you? The minister has left Rhanna. There was a fire at the Manse, his dog died in it and the minister would have done too but for old Dodie and Shona and my mother.’

  The colour drained from Megan’s face. She stared at Eve as if unable to believe the evidence of her own ears. ‘Oh God no,’ she whispered, ‘not that, please not that! Oh, my darling, my dearest Mark. If only I could have spoken to him before I left but I couldn’t go to him, he was so strange, so changed from the man I knew. He shut me out – he shut me out, Eve . . .’

  It was a cry from the heart. Gently, Eve put a comforting arm round the other woman’s shoulders and said tearfully, ‘He shut everyone out, he just seemed to sink inside himself and grow more and more lonely. It wasny your fault, Doctor Megan.’

  ‘It was my fault, I should have gone to him, I ought to have been stronger but I couldn’t bear the way he looked at me, as if I was a stranger he had never known or cared about. Oh, please don’t tell me any more, Eve, I can’t stand it!’

  ‘I’ll stay with you tonight if you like,’ Eve offered unhappily, dismayed at herself for bringing the doctor such sad news on the first night of her return, yet knowing that if she hadn’t someone else would have and with no bones about it either.

  But Megan shook her head. ‘No, Eve, I’ll be fine, really. I need to be alone, you go along home, it’s getting late. The fire should have heated the water by now, I’ll have a bath and go right to bed, it’s been a long day.’

  That night she lay in bed, cold and afraid, all her exuberance extinguished as if it had never been. Lying on her back, she stared unseeingly into the dark shadows of her quiet room. Outside her window, the sea sighed and curled sleepily to the shore. It was a soothing sound but she felt that nothing could ever calm her again. Turning her face into her lonely pillow, she wept – and knew an echo of the pain Mark must have known in the long night watches when sleep had no dreaming that wasn’t of sorrow and loneliness.

  She rose at dawn, as unrested as she had been before going to bed. The things that had held such enchantment on her arrival home had lost their spell over her, and she gave only a cursory glance at the peaceful morning scene outside her window before going downstairs to make tea and sit at the empty grate, the cup warming her cold
hands but nothing at all warming her heart. Her thoughts were too bleak for that. She had lost Mark, as surely as if she had personally driven him from the island – and in many ways she had done just that. She had twisted the knife in that sensitive heart of his until he hadn’t been able to take any more.

  In the cold grey light of morning she cried for him, for all the things that might have been theirs if only she had paid more attention to what was happening to him instead of dwelling so much on her own problems.

  Eve had said she didn’t know where he was, that nobody knew, but Lachlan might and it was to Slochmhor she went when she knew morning surgery to be safely over.

  ‘Megan,’ he greeted her with pleasure, his warm smile lighting a face that had grown slightly thinner from coping with full surgeries, for it seemed that all the ‘wee ails’ had been saving themselves for him and he had never had one free weekend to call his own. ‘How truly good it is to see you, lass, and you’ve come back just in time too as I doubt if I could have carried on much longer –’ he shrugged and laughed – ‘I’ve become soft since my retiral and wonder now how I possibly ever managed it all.’

  They repaired to the kitchen where Phebie had the cuppies all ready and steaming on the table, but Megan had barely taken a sip of hers before asking the question that had been on her lips all morning.

  A frown furrowed Lachlan’s brow when she had finished speaking. ‘Mark? I’m sorry, lass, I don’t know. He just seems to have disappeared off the face of the earth. John Grey has taken over from him and might know something but if so he’s keeping it close to his chest . . .’

  ‘Shona knows,’ Phebie intervened at this point, ‘but wild horses won’t drag it from her. She and Tina went with Mark to the mainland and saw him into hospital but since then he’s been moved and that’s the last I heard.’