Return To Rhanna

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by Christine Marion Fraser


  He fell asleep with his head cradled on her breast and she had never been more at peace, more relaxed as now. Still joined to him she fell asleep and some time in the night when the fire died down and the room grew cold he pulled the fluffy quilt close around them so that they were cocooned in a nest of warmth which the bitter night couldn’t penetrate.

  Shona wakened first, feeling so good she thought at first she must be dreaming and that soon all the anxieties would come crowding back then she felt Niall’s arms around her, holding her close, making her feel safe, cherished beyond compare. Dawn was filtering coldly over the sky which had become overcast and even as she watched the first smirrings of powdery snow rasped against the window pane. She lay, too contented to move, looking at Niall. His skin was flushed, a shadow of fair stubble lay over his jaw, the curve of his lashes swept his cheek. She caught her breath, loving him so much there was pain in her heart. How he had cried last night, how many long hours of grief must he have endured to make him break down like that? The torture of it seared her soul and she closed her eyes and bit her lip. She couldn’t bear to think about it and she snuggled further against him, letting his warmth flood through her body.

  He stirred and opening his eyes he smiled at her, the sleepy smile of a man at peace with the world. ‘I knew you were watching me,’ he murmured, ‘I could feel your eyes devouring me and of course I don’t blame you for admiring good looks when you see them.’

  She giggled and smacked him playfully on the backside. Lazily he enclosed her tighter into the warm circle of his arms, a sensuousness in his stirring limbs. She lay against him, the condensing of her breath above the quilt changing her wakening resolve to get up and make tea. He nuzzled her hair and whispered, ‘Before you came along last night I was doing a bit of thinking. Do you want to hear it or would you rather lie here all day and make love?’

  ‘We’ve got all the time in the world, it might be a good idea if we had a wee talk.’

  ‘Well, I came to the conclusion that none of this travelling vet stuff ever really worked . . .’

  ‘But it’s got to!’ she cried aghast. ‘We can’t leave here – not now.’

  ‘Caillich Ruadh,’ he teased. ‘Will you be quiet a minute and let me finish? I meant it hasny worked me being away from home so much. At heart I’m a home-loving man and canny bear to be away from the girl who once chased me over the moors.’

  She gasped, ‘But – you chased me!’

  ‘Same difference,’ he returned. ‘I’m trying to tell you that all I want are my slippers, my pipe and my ain fireside.’

  ‘You don’t smoke a pipe.’

  ‘I can learn. I can learn to do a lot of things I’ve always wanted – such as being here with you all the time instead of gadding all over the place. I can still be a vet; there’s a surprising amount of work on Rhanna to keep me going, the bairns are always on about their ailing pets and the farmers and crofters are losing their suspicions about me. We could build an extension onto the back of the house, make a surgery and waiting room. In between times we can cut our own peat and I could also do a bit of lobster fishing. The Sea Urchin’s a goner now anyway and somehow I canny be bothered with that kind of life anymore. What do you say, Mrs McLachlan?’

  ‘Well, Mr McLachlan, I’d say it’s the best thing my glaikit wee Niall has ever come up with,’ she approved in delight.

  His arms tightened instinctively round her waist and he said softly, ‘I think we should make our first Christmas in this house a really special one.’ He saw her face and added quickly and firmly, ‘We should do everything that Ellie would have liked. It’s going to be our first Christmas without our wee girl and if we just sit back and think we’re going to torture ourselves. We’ll do as Ellie would have done during her first festive season at Mo Dhachaidh, we’ll throw a ceilidh, we’ll laugh and sing and somewhere Ellie will be laughing and singing with us.’

  ‘All right,’ she conceded huskily. ‘If you’ll let me invite Dodie over for Christmas dinner. I’ve hurt him in some way and want to make it up to him – though I wish I knew what I’ve done for him to take it so much to heart.’

  Gently Niall told her and she gave a little cry of anguish. ‘Oh God! Was it just Dodie, I wonder, or have there been others?’

  ‘As far as I know it was just Dodie—’ He grinned ruefully. ‘Go ahead and ask him. I’ll buy a sack of onions and hang them up on the tree. He’ll think they’re decorations.’

  ‘If he knows he’s coming here he’ll make an effort to clean himself up,’ she said with conviction and throwing off the quilt she donned her dressing gown and pattered speedily downstairs to stir the slumbering fire to flame and swing the kettle on.

  She was right. Dodie came on Christmas Day, confused, beaming, glowing brighter than a new pin. Carbolic fumes wafted from him in waves, mingling with the repugnant odour of hair oil which they suspected he had made himself.

  ‘Tincture of skunk!’ Niall decided, but set about making their guest feel entirely welcome. Dodie was touchingly grateful for everything, screeching with delight when a search through the tree rewarded him with a bulky parcel with his name on the label. He had come armed with presents for everyone, simple things, made from the treasures given up by the sea.

  Tears sprung to Shona’s eyes when he produced a gift for ‘wee Ellie’, another of his exquisitely painted stones which he placed beside her picture in Memory Corner.

  He departed in the late afternoon, well pleased with his day, his pockets bulging with goodies which he was determined to share with his beloved cow before darkness set in.

  Niall and Shona sat back for a brief respite before their respective families arrived for the evening, bringing with them Fiona and Grant who had come home on a surprise visit. They were a tonic, keeping everyone entranced with stories of their travels. Fiona had sailed with her husband on his Australian run earlier in the year and had remained on the Great Barrier Reef to study its marine life, along with a scientific team from one of the Australian universities. Grant had collected her on his next run and they had come back to Scotland for the festive season, much to Phebie’s joy, for she missed her daughter sorely and quietly looked forward to the day when she and her husband decided to settle down on dry land.

  While Ruth was ensconced in the kitchen with Shona, helping her to make tea, she confided that at last she had begun writing her book.

  ‘Och, I’m so pleased, Ruth,’ Shona said with genuine warmth. ‘I just know that one day you’ll be a successful novelist and unlike Rachel you don’t have to move away from your own fireside to pursue your ambition. How is she, by the way?’

  ‘She and Jon are in Vienna at the moment, having a wonderful time. He has a job there and Rachel is in seventh heaven studying and doing concerts. She writes often and is so good to Lorna, always sending her presents. She never talks about coming back to the island, even for a holiday – I suppose she’s too busy,’ she added rather wistfully.

  ‘Oh, she’ll come back when she’s ready, she has to allow herself time to forget Lewis, though I doubt if she ever will. She truly loved him, you know; I met her once over by Burg and all she wanted was for me to talk about him . . .’ She paused and went on in a rush, ‘Ruth, I’ve never really had a chance to tell you how sorry I am for all the trouble and heartache I caused you. You must have hated me at the time.’

  ‘Hush,’ Ruth held up her hand and shook her head vehemently. ‘I never hated you and we don’t have to talk about it ever again – except I really do understand what made you do it. If I had been in your position I might easily have done the same. Dear little Ellie, she’s gone, yet, somehow I feel she’s with us enjoying Christmas in that lovely enthusiastic way she had.’

  Shona’s eyes were brilliant with love for the child who was gone from her life now but who still lived and breathed in the hearts of all those who had loved her most and she hugged Ruth for showing so much sympathy and understanding.

  The festivities didn’t stop after
the revelry of the New Year. The ice on the lochans was bearing after continual nights of hard frost and everyone, young and old, took to the exhilarating pursuits of skating and curling. Nobody possessed skates but that didn’t matter. A variety of weird inventions took to the ice and the bens rang with sounds of laughter and frequent shrieks. Even McKenzie of the Glen, that proud, private man, joined in the fun, leading Kirsteen over the frozen surface of Sliach, his deep laughter booming out as they slithered about with everyone else.

  ‘McKenzie is a changed man from the old days,’ commented those who were too old or too lazy to join the throng.

  ‘Ay,’ nodded old Bob. ‘He has seen a lot o’ sorrow this whily back but himself and Kirsteen have had the courage to stand back and count the blessings that are left to them.’

  ‘They are people I am proud to know,’ said Mac, taking a warming swig of rum from his flask. He and Nellie were staying at Mo Dhachaidh for a holiday and Mac, though disappointed to know that his days as Niall’s skipper were over, was not surprised at the news, consoling himself with the thought that he could always help out with the lobster fishing. ‘If ever there was two families who have earned my respect it is the McLachlans and the McKenzies.’

  The rains and winds returned at the end of January and with the thaw everyone reverted back to more conventional pastimes. There was about Shona these days a serenity that brought back all her former zest for life. The extension to the house was going ahead as fast as it ever would on an island whose tradesmen only hurried when it was opening time at the hotel bar. Mo Dhachaidh had become a rendezvous for the island children and their pets and for old ladies whose cats were the solace of their old age. A back room had been hastily converted into a surgery, the hall was a temporary waiting room with the crofter’s bench placed at the widest spot but even then a row of toes made navigation through the house a considerable feat of skill and patience.

  Shona enjoyed the bustle around her, but looked forward to the evenings spent with Niall in the parlour when they could sit by the fire to talk or just be content to sit quietly together. Held in his arms, curled on the rug by his feet, she drew closer to him in spirit than to any other human being in the world. Each day, each night, her nightmare of the past was pushed a little further away and the sweet promise of the future came a small step nearer with each new dawn.

  Part Five

  Autumn 1962

  Chapter Eighteen

  ‘And was the honeymoon to your liking then, Barra?’

  Kate McKinnon lowered her voice to a confidential whisper but even so the shop suddenly went quiet and all eyes were turned expectantly on the blushing countenance of Barra McLean. More than the usual number of folk were crowded into the establishment which was still referred to as Merry Mary’s, though Dugald had taken over once more with Merry Mary agreeing to stay on till he could get somebody else to take her place. It was rumoured that wedding bells were in the offing for Dugald and Totie Little of Portvoynachan, a rumour strengthened by the fact that they were more and more to be seen openly together. But neither party was forthcoming on the subject so it was kept open to be discussed and pondered upon with much enjoyment.

  The ferry was due in the harbour in a few minutes and though this was always an event of importance, today it was doubly so, and even as everyone talked necks were frequently stretched to watch the comings and goings outside, though this occupation known as rubbernecking was temporarily abandoned and the attention switched readily to the discomfited Barra.

  She and Robbie had confounded everyone with their recent marriage and it had transpired that they had taken to each other from the start, with Ranald not even considered in the marriage stakes.

  ‘And to think she led us to believe it was Ranald she liked,’ had sniffed a peeved Kate.

  ‘Ach, it was you who led yourself to believe it was him, said Merry Mary with asperity, ‘Barra never gave herself away one way or the other.’

  But the irony of the situation had soon cheered Kate and she had set about wondering just how Behag would take to the idea of a wild city woman gaining an even stronger foothold in the family circle. But the wily Robbie had long been prepared for his sister’s reaction, mollifying her by going to Lachlan to find out how to go about recommending her for a long service award. Lachlan and the laird between them had set the wheels in motion. The Lord Lieutenant of the county had been Burnbreddie’s Commanding Officer and they had remained friends, Sir Gordon MacGregor coming annually to the island for the shooting and fishing. His letter of recommendation, together with one from the Postmaster General in London to the Prime Minister’s Principal Private Secretary, had resulted in Behag being awarded the BEM. Her chagrin at receiving a lesser award than Biddy’s had been short-lived. In her honour the laird had thrown a garden party in the grounds of Burnbreddie, during which Sir Gordon had made the award presentation. It had been a momentous occasion for her. A good number of Rhanna people had been there to see her mixing with dignitaries, newspaper reporters, and the gentry, all of whom had wanted to shake her hand and congratulate her. The sun had shone, the day had been perfect, and Behag, dressed in a printed silk dress, a splendid pheasant feather adorning her hat, her spindly legs scurrying hither and thither as she ingratiated herself with the laird’s entourage, felt herself to be on a par with royalty. Her ego was further boosted when she received an invite to a garden party at Holyrood House where she had shaken hands with the Queen Mother. So taken up had she been she’d had little time to spare for her brother and he and Barra had been able to slip away to be married in a Registry Office in Oban.

  Behag’s hours of glory were now in the past and when she had finally emerged from her euphoric state to the full realization of what her brother had accomplished under her very nose, she had been tight-lipped with disapproval, though her BEM medal, mounted in a frame hung above the fireplace, was a constant reminder of her own importance. She had stuck her nose in the air and pretended not to notice the smirks and giggles of those who, in her own words, ‘were just a bunch o’ jealous nobodies’.

  Robbie and his new wife had returned to take up residence in Barra’s harbour cottage and everyone was keen to discover the kind of welcome Behag would extend to her newly acquired sister-in-law. But that was something to look forward to in the future, the crowd gathered in Merry Mary’s shop were more interested in matters of the moment and Kate’s blunt question had given them the opening they needed. All eyes were focused on Barra and she stood nonplussed for quite some time, obviously reluctant to enlarge on the personal subject of her recent honeymoon.

  ‘Ach, c’mon now, Barra,’ coaxed Nancy persuasively, all her old vigour having returned in full after a long and anxious battle with illness. The doctors had pronounced her as good as new and Nancy had laughed and quipped, ‘Ay, like a new motor wi’ a few o’ the luxuries missing.’

  Barra looked round at all the interested faces and a dimple of mischief dented her cheek.

  ‘Well, now that you ask, Kate,’ she began then paused, making a great show of fastening a button on her coat.

  ‘Ay, go on, Barra,’ encouraged Kate, wondering if Barra was as embarrassed as she was making out.

  Barra raised her head and her eyes positively sparkled though still she hesitated before opening her mouth again. ‘My, thon’s an awful contraption,’ she finally admitted, her face made redder still with suppressed laughter. ‘I have never seen the likes in all my life – no’ even in my days at Art College when we had naked men posin’ as models. They always covered these bits o’ their bodies wi’ wee clooties.’

  ‘Ach, God!’ Kate doubled up in a paroxysm of mirth. ‘I must get my Tam to pose for you, Barra. I would give away a cask o’ the bonny malt itself just to see him wi’ a bit o’ spotted silk tied round his chookles!’

  ‘Weesht you now, Mother,’ warned Nancy. ‘Here is Robbie himself come to claim his bride from all you nosy vultures. My, the mannie is lookin’ as red as yourself, Barra, I doubt the men have
been on at him too.’

  Robbie’s round pleasant face was indeed a shade of violent pink, thanks to the recent teasings from Tam and his cronies. He had expected the banter and blushing furiously had finally admitted to finding the ways of women somewhat bewildering.

  ‘They are different from the beasts I have studied all my life,’ he had stated in some confusion.

  ‘Ay, and what way is that?’ asked Tam while his son, Wullie, had exploded with rude laughter and confided that his wife Mairi had always put him in mind o’ a clockin’ hen.

  ‘Ach no!’ protested Robbie, his face flaring to crimson. ‘That isny the kind o’ thing I’m meaning – it’s just – well, they are different to what I expected. You see . . .’ He had stopped, abashed.

  ‘Go on now, man,’ encouraged Todd. ‘You are no makin’ yourself clear.’

  ‘Well, it is just – they are aye in heat whereas wi’ the likes o’ a cow you have to wait till it comes on.’

  Tam’s eyes were round and quite a few moments elapsed before he said in astonishment, ‘But, surely at your age, you know that already?’

  ‘Ay, ay, of course,’ Robbie said suavely, wishing he hadn’t broached the subject. ‘But it is different living wi’ one and findin’ out that it’s there all the time when you want it and no’ just keekin’ at you from a wee dark corner o’ a hayshed.’

  His astounding observation had caused an uproar during which he had made good his escape only to see by his wife’s red face that she too had been subjected to merciless banter. ‘The boat is comin’ in,’ he announced in some discomfiture, ‘I saw her funnels comin’ round the bay just a wee minute ago.’

 

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