Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  She was strangely, awesomely quiet. She saw the future stretching without Niall and the whole world was bleak. All along she had known that he would leave the island one day but one day was always in the future in her child’s mind. Now that day was drawing nigh. A lot of Rhanna boys left school early to learn fishing and crofting, the two mainstays of the island. Some went away to the big cities like Glasgow and London, some to places like Canada and Australia, names that were other worlds to her, places on the big map in the classroom that she liked to hear about but they were foreign to her. Rhanna, the little green jewel in the Atlantic Ocean, was her birthplace and she loved it with every breath of her being. She would stay. Girls stayed on Rhanna – some went to take up nursing on the mainland but mostly they stayed. But she had known Niall would go. He hadn’t been full of fancy ambitions for his future but had always clung to one, to be an animal doctor.

  ‘I like them better than humans,’ he once told her. ‘They don’t moan but suffer in silence mostly. They’re nice to work with.’

  Shona felt herself grow cold though the sun was streaming through the cave. She shivered suddenly and turned slowly to look at his boyish anxious face. His hand tightened over hers.

  ‘I’ll be back,’ he said urgently, trying to dispel the dull look that had crept into her eyes. ‘It’ll be even better than when I’m here all the time because we’ll have so much to tell each other. Och Shona, don’t look so sad! ’Tis sad I am to leave. Think of the holidays! Every time I come home we’ll run to this cave and talk till we’re blue in the face. This cave will be our wee den! We’ll always come here!’

  He was so eager to please her he gripped her hand till it hurt, his tanned skin flushing with his need to make her understand how earnest he was. She put up a small brown hand and touched his golden hair briefly. ‘We will, Niall,’ she whispered in a small tight voice. She knew that if she gave way to her feelings she would explode. She would cry and shout and do all the things she tried never to do because they stamped her with the mark of her femininity and she wasn’t going to give in now, not after all the years of reining her emotions. She drew her hand away and he was surprised and a little hurt that she hadn’t shown more feeling. A lump came to his throat and he said defiantly, ‘Mother and Father will miss me anyway.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Shona and turned away to hide a glimmer of tears. Angry at herself she stamped out of the cave.

  ‘Are you in a bad mood?’ he called.

  ‘Yes,’ she said again, keeping a wobble from her voice.

  ‘Well you can just grow out of it!’ Hurt made his tone snappy. ‘You’re a wee baby and I’m fed up trailing you about ’cos you’re a girl! I’m sick of girls!’

  He stamped after her. She stared at his tall sturdy figure. The wind whipped his hair and his cheeks were red. He stood astride a moss-grown rock, glaring at her, his brown legs apart and his arms folded. Her pent-up emotions came out in a flood of temper.

  ‘Ach, away you go! You’re a stupid daft boy and I wonder I’ve tholed you so long! I’m sick of you telling me what to do! You’re glaikit, that’s what you are, Niall McLachlan, and I’m that scunnered I’m glad you’re going so I am! I hope . . . I hope a seagull shits on your head every time you travel on that boat – you deserve a whole flock of gulls shitting on your head for the rest of your days so you do!’

  She scampered wildly over the heather. Her hair streamed like the tail of a wild pony and her blurring eyes saw not where she was going but she plunged on recklessly, the deep heartrending sobs rising in her throat at last.

  Niall was left to stare after her. Now he knew how desperately she had fought to conceal her tears from him. The wild burst of words, the tempestuous flight all proved it. His lips quivered slightly as her terrible wishes touched the humorous side of his nature but he sobered on a more serious reflection of the scene. He realized it was the first time in years she had allowed her deeper feelings to come uppermost. She had tempers, yes; but nothing like the tremulous storm he had just witnessed. He cast his mind back, trying to remember that last time. It had been more terrible then because she had been very young and unable to restrain herself at all. When and where had it been? He searched his memory and it all came back: the Kirkyard, her mother’s inscription, the deep terrible sorrow that her discovery had caused her.

  Young boy that he was he felt sobered and very touched because she hadn’t cried like that till today – and this time the tears were for him.

  Two days had passed since then. He couldn’t go to Laigmhor. He had never gone there and he couldn’t very well start now. She wouldn’t go to him because she was so ashamed of her outburst. Also there was the matter of her pride: it was difficult for her to apologize even when she knew she was wrong. So she mooned around and got under everyone’s feet. Normally she was a good help to Mirabelle. She could do a lot of household chores and it had become her job to make the hens’ pot. She also milked the cows sometimes and every morning she cranked the handle to start the generator that pumped water into the farm. But now she snapped at Mirabelle and not even Alick’s cheerful chatter could dispel her gloom. A visit to Hamish’s cottage lifted her spirits a little. Maggie was a cheery woman and stepped over dogs and cats to fetch creamy milk and biscuits for her little guest. Hamish showed her a baby rabbit he had rescued from one of the cats. It was in a little hutch especially kept for injured creatures and was happily munching lettuce leaves. Hamish made her laugh and she tripped home gaily but her mood returned when she saw Niall with a crowd of boys coming back from the harbour. It seemed he wasn’t missing her at all, and she scowled. She didn’t even have Tot for company and felt no one really cared for her.

  Her father was surprisingly sympathetic. He knew what loneliness was like and could feel something of her sadness at having to part with the friend of her childhood. He saw how empty her life would be without the boy who had shared her innermost thoughts for so many years. She had made his mistake, that of attaching herself too devotedly to one human being. When that person went away the void that was left could only be filled by dreams and these were not things that made for a happy life. So he was gentle with her and for one lovely fleeting moment she allowed him to hold her close, his compassion over-ruling his fear of rebuff. He felt the warm smooth bloom of her cheeks against his and the sweet delicacy of her slim little body filled him with such overwhelming love that tears sprang to his eyes. She felt his dear rough face against hers. The smell of him was the night smell. His breath was fresh and his damp hair tickled her nose. He was stripped to trousers and vest and she could see where the brown weatherbeaten skin on his neck merged with the paler skin of his chest. His arms were warm and very strong and she held her breath with the ecstasy of his nearness. But the feel of his arms was so unreal to her she began to feel uncomfortable and she wondered how she could break away. She wanted the lovely moment to last forever but moments never did. She knew he had hugged her on an overpowering impulse but it was over now and he too would be feeling uneasy. She broke away and immediately felt she had stepped back into a world of lonely uncertainty. His eyes were hurt and she knew she had done the wrong thing but she couldn’t go back to him now. The beauty of the moment was over and they both knew it.

  The next day she was irritable and snapped at her father during breakfast. He had spent a sleepless night wondering what to do about Kirsteen and snapped back. Alick ate his boiled egg and searched for something to say to ease the tense atmosphere.

  ‘You two having love problems?’ he said cheerily and immediately knew he had said the wrong thing. Shona got up and with great dignity marched from the room.

  ‘Come back here and excuse yourself from table!’ yelled Fergus, but she pretended not to hear.

  ‘A good skelping she needs,’ muttered Fergus and he too left the table. Mirabelle sighed. ‘I wanted the bairn to help me this morning. I’m tired wi’ her tantrums so I am. It’s yourself to blame, Alick. Never could hold your tongue!’

  H
e put his arms round her plump waist.

  ‘Don’t fret so, my lady. Alick will be a good boy and help with all the kitchen chores this morning. They take too much for granted, Belle. How have you put up with us all these years? Haven’t you ever wanted a family of your own? You must have been a bonny lass in your day.’

  She giggled and pulled a lock of his brown hair.

  ‘Ach, away wi’ you. You’re a flatterer and a flirt into the bargain. You’re such a different laddie from Fergus.’

  ‘Aye, he was the big brother I worshipped and wanted to be like. But it didn’t turn out that way, thanks to Mother. She strengthened my weakness by pampering me and setting Fergus up as my guardian. Oh aye, I’ve thought about it a lot, Belle.’ His voice held an unusual note of bitterness. ‘I should have fought my own battles but Mother wouldn’t have it. Fergus was the strong one but just as much a pawn as myself. I think it was all wrong, Belle.’

  ‘Ach, your poor mother did what she thought best for you both, but it’s all in the past now, laddie.’

  His smile was rueful. ‘Aye, but it’s our past that shapes our future, dear Belle. I was made to lean on Fergus even though he didn’t want such a burden. All my boyhood days I needed that prop. Now, here I am, with a wife as flightly as myself. I’m just floating around like a cork in water. No bottle for me to fit into. I’ve lost my prop, Belle.’

  ‘Ach, you’re full of fancies, laddie,’ she said lightly; but she wondered if anyone had ever credited him with the deep sensitivity he covered so well with frivolous words.

  His mention about a family of her own had touched a chord deep in her heart. All day thoughts of the past came crowding in on her till she knew she had to be alone to think. Hers were very special memories but hers had been a very special family. She had a spare hour before tea so she folded her hands over her stomach and rocked herself by her window. A smile hovered at the corners of her mouth and a reminiscent dreaminess crept into her eyes. No one knew the secret she had kept in her heart for . . . how many years? She puckered her forehead. Fifty-four! It couldn’t be but yes, it was, she was seventy-three now and had been barely nineteen when her husband and little son were taken from her in that terrible tragedy of 1879. She could see the face of her husband John so clearly. In her mind’s eye she saw him smile, that jaunty gay smile of his, his boyish face alight with his love of life. And little Donald, just three months, beginning to smile his lovely toothless baby smile. She tried to remember his tiny face but couldn’t. Panic seized her and she rose hurriedly to rummage in a drawer. The box was there beside all her bits and pieces. It was full of old photos, of her parents and sisters. The familiar crushing pain in her chest took her breath away and she sat down heavily, the box in her lap.

  After a short rest she searched through the box, desperately eager to find that baby face that eluded her memory. There were several sepia photos of the child but she found her favourite, the one with John holding his tiny son. She looked gently at the young face of her husband and could see that he was bursting with pride, the sparkle of his eye and the upturned corners of his mouth gave him away but he had remained suitably composed till the photographer was finished. Now she could recall that day so clearly. When they got out of the studio he had burst out laughing, the sobriety of the occasion too much for his sense of fun.

  She studied the face of her little son. His eyes were roundly agape at some object placed so that he would face the camera. He had kept sticking his fist in his mouth and John had to constantly take it out. It was a sweet innocent little face with big eyes looking into a future that was never to be.

  Mirabelle sat back in her rocking chair and was transported back in time, far from Laigmhor and Rhanna. She remembered again that Christmas of 1879. It was a happy gay Christmas spent with her mother who dearly loved all her children and grandchildren. She was widowed, and Christmas was a time full of poignant memories for her, so Mirabelle had gone with John and little Donald to spend the festive season with her. She knew John would have preferred to stay in their own cosy little home for Donald’s first Christmas but his kind heart was easily swayed and the journey had been worth the happiness it brought. Three days after Christmas they departed for home but at the station it was discovered they had left a case behind containing a lot of things essential to the baby’s wellbeing. He was cutting a first tooth and wailing fretfully so it was decided that Mirabelle would go back for the case while John went on with the baby.

  But there was no next train over the Tay that Sunday night or for many nights to come. The high girders on the wind-lashed bridge had collapsed and both engine and train had plummeted into the foaming waters beneath. Not a single survivor came out of the disaster and Mirabelle collapsed. For many months she lived like a shadow, unable to cope with reality, and her mother had nursed her through days of unending darkness. A year later her mother, too, was taken from her and she felt she had lost everything that made life worth living. Oh yes, she knew how dear proud Fergus had felt when he had lost Helen. The marrow had gone out of him, he had told her, and described exactly the way she had felt all those years ago. But at least he had the gift of his daughter, although unable to appreciate the fact. She had saved nothing from the wreckage of her young days.

  Tears were coursing down her cheeks now but she wasn’t aware of them. She was seeing the young Mirabelle, drifting, unable to settle into any kind of niche. She had lived with a married sister for a time but her natural sense of independence made her go out and find a job and she had become housekeeper to a demanding crotchety old lady who never seemed pleased with anything but who must have appreciated Mirabelle because she had left her several hundred pounds when she died. After that, each post was worse than the last and every ounce of her strength was drained by large demanding families or old demanding ladies and she had come to believe her life would contain nothing but meaningless service to others. Then came Laigmhor and the lovely healing peace of Rhanna. She had been thirty-seven then but had felt she was starting life afresh. She had become so used to keeping her private thoughts to herself she hadn’t been able to change, not even on Rhanna. No one expected a housekeeper of many years’ standing ever to have a life of her own. She was expected to immerse herself in the running of other people’s lives and that had been easy enough at Laigmhor with two young children to love. But she had always felt herself to be part of the family, not just an outsider to be used as a convenience and she gave of herself every ounce of her loving heart. She had lost her own little son but the boys, then Shona, had fulfilled her motherly instincts. Two generations of children! She had been their mother really. When hurt or unhappy it was to her arms they tumbled. She thought of them as her own. She wiped away her tears and smiled, an inward happy smile of thankfulness for such a rich life.

  Shona rocked listlessly on her heels. It was hot and she got up to seek some shade under the apple tree. She glanced at the house and saw Mirabelle at the window. She put up her hand to wave but there was no response and she guessed Mirabelle was asleep.

  Miss Fraser was coming up the hot dusty road and she came through the gate and over to Shona. ‘Hello,’ she said warmly. ‘Is your father about?’

  She too had spent a sleepless night thinking about Fergus. She knew she couldn’t go on in the present position much longer. Two nights ago she had lain in his arms but last night she was alone again and she was now convinced he only came to her to appease his physical appetites.

  Shona nodded. ‘He’s in the big barn with Alick, stacking hay.’

  ‘Thank you, Shona. I’ll see you later.’

  Shona watched her teacher walk away. She liked the way she held herself. She was quite tall and very graceful and there was that dignified tilt of the chin that had earned her the label of ‘madam’ by some narrow-minded locals. Shona liked the proud chin and the way the golden head was held high. She liked Miss Fraser altogether and wished she and her father would marry – that might put an end to some of the spiteful jibes she end
ured at school.

  Kirsteen went into the barn. It was deliciously fragrant. Hens clucked lazily and poked for insects on the straw-littered floor. It was warm and quiet, and for a moment she thought it was empty.

  ‘Fergus!’ she called. There was a soft chuckle from behind a hay bale. She stepped inside and found Alick sitting beside a fat contented hen.

  ‘Will I do instead?’ grinned Alick. ‘Fergus was called away to look at a cow who has hurt her foot. He and Hamish will be gone for ages. You know what they’re like when they get talking about the beasts. I’m just resting from my labours. Brother is a hard taskmaster. He’s making sure I earn my daily bread.’

  ‘Oh . . .’ she hesitated, ‘well, I’ll see him another time. Don’t – don’t mention I called will you?’

  He looked at her standing poised for flight. She was wearing a very flimsy blue dress and her long legs were bare. He didn’t answer but patted the hay at his side.

  ‘Sit down and talk to me for a wee whiley. Och no, don’t go! They’re all in the doldrums here just now and I could be doing with a lovely lady to cheer me up!’

  He was being very charming and she knew his eyes were taking in every bit of her body. She had always managed to avoid him on her visits to the farm because she knew he was a lady’s man. Nevertheless she liked him and felt his cheery frivolities were just the tonic she needed to make her forget for a while all the problems her life held.

  ‘Just for a wee while,’ she acceded and sat, not in the spot indicated but on the other side of the hen. Before long she was laughing merrily. He had a way of making the most ordinary happenings sound funny. His dark eyes were sparkling. He knew his talent for making laughter had always been his greatest asset next to flattering women.

  Kirsteen was enjoying herself so much it was a moment or two before she realized his flow of wit had stopped and he was looking at her with open desire.