Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  ‘You’re beautiful, Kirsteen,’ he said in a low voice.

  ‘No – Alick – no!’ she cried and tried to scramble up. But it was too late. The fat hen ran squawking at Alick’s lunge forward. He was quick, so quick that Kirsteen was pinned helplessly to the warm hay while he kissed her, small swift kisses on her face and neck.

  ‘Let me go, Alick,’ she panted. ‘Please let me go!’

  ‘You’re too good for him,’ he mumbled. ‘He doesn’t deserve you. You’re the kind of woman who could have any man.’

  His mouth came down hard on hers and she fought for the breath to scream. His hands were caressing her body with such fierceness her flesh tingled with pain. Panic seized her. She couldn’t breathe. The more she struggled the more he seemed to enjoy it.

  ‘Will you give yourself or can I have the pleasure of taking you?’ he whispered. ‘Please let me, Kirsteen. I’ve dreamed of you every night since I saw you. Touch me, dear sweet Kirsteen. I’m on fire for you!’

  She screamed then, a half-sobbing sound that tore from her in a desperate succession of sound. The tall figure of Fergus darkened the doorway and he was tearing Alick from her while the cries were still choking from her throat.

  Alick hardly knew what hit him. Fergus’s sledgehammer fists were raining down on him without pause. He put up his hands to defend his face but he was useless against the fury of his brother’s onslaught. Kirsteen, wild-eyed and sobbing, could only watch while he was reduced to a bleeding mess.

  ‘Stop, Fergus!’ she cried. ‘You’ll kill him!’

  Alick lay for several minutes. Blood streamed from his nose and frothy saliva mingled with the blood of a split lip. His face was a mass of bruises and one eye was already beginning to swell.

  Fergus, his chest heaving, looked down at his brother with contempt. ‘Get up,’ he said softly, ‘and walk out of here like a man. You’ll get the next boat from Rhanna!’

  Alick stumbled to his feet. He drew the back of his hand across his mouth and looked at the blood on it.

  ‘A man!’ He spat thickly. ‘Oh yes, I’m that, despite the fact that you and Mother tried to turn me into a mouse! Not a man like you, Fergus, all fire and fury on the outside but soft like dung inside! People know what kind of man I am! Can you say the same, man? I show it when I feel afraid but you’re too bloody proud even to be human!’ He staggered outside and away over the breathless fields, swaying like a man drunk.

  Kirsteen’s eyes were full of tears. ‘Och Fergus, you were too hard on him! He’s not strong like you! He wasn’t able to fight back!’

  He looked at her, it was a strange look which she couldn’t fathom. She couldn’t know that he was seeing Helen again but this time as a lovely memory of the past. He would always see her because he knew he could never forget her. But the guilt he had felt, the uncertainty of being able to give his heart fully to another woman was gone and a burden lifted from him. He was certain now of his deep love for Kirsteen, the sight of her in his brother’s arms had proved it and he felt light-headed with the knowledge. He helds out his hands.

  ‘Kirsteen, will you marry me? Will you share my life and make me a happy man? I love you, Kirsteen.’

  The words were simple enough but they were the most beautiful she had ever heard. She ran to him and the whole world was at their feet in that magical eternal minute.

  ‘Fergus, my dear Fergus,’ she breathed. ‘I’ve waited so long to hear you say that.’

  He closed his eyes and held her close. Briefly he thought of his brother and felt both pity and gratitude. Pity because Alick was the unhappy, pleasure-seeking product of a pampered childhood, and gratitude because Alick had unwittingly brought him to a decision over which he had hesitated for so long. Later he would find Alick and make his peace with him, but not now when Kirsteen overwhelmed him with her dear sweet nearness.

  Shona heard the rumpus coming from the hayshed. At first she paid no heed till she heard her father’s angry voice followed by Alick’s high-pitched tones, then she ran quickly and was in time to see Alick reeling over the fields. She stood by the big doors and heard the murmur of voices from within. Her father was asking Kirsteen to marry him and they were so wrapped up in each other they didn’t notice her. She tiptoed quickly round a corner and leaned against the warm wood of the big shed. Hugging herself with joy she lifted her face to the sky. It was hot and hazy-looking with purple clouds piling on top of Sgurr nan Ruadh, the red mountain of the Fallan range. It was beautiful, everything was beautiful, Loch Tenee sparkling, the misty bronzed moors, the rough grass at her feet, even the midgie that landed on her hand, all were beautiful. But the midgie had a sting and had to be killed and her world of beauty was soon to turn to a devilish nightmare. But not now! Certainly not now when everything floated in such a happy haze. A bubble of joy rose into her throat and she knew she couldn’t stand for long. She skipped away, over the cobbled yard and into the house to find Mirabelle. It was teatime, yet strangely there were no lovely savoury smells in the kitchen. It was empty except for Tot and her pups. She bent and stroked the bitch’s silky ears. ‘I’ll tell you a secret, Tot,’ she whispered. ‘Father’s going to marry Miss Fraser and we’re all going to be happy. I’ll have to find Mirabelle, she’ll be pleased because she’s getting too tired to be my mother and needs a wee help with things. After that I’ll go and tell Niall, even though he’s a boy. ’Tis he can keep secrets better than anyone I know.’

  She looked into the parlour but Mirabelle wasn’t there. She wasn’t in the green taking in the washing that hung limply in the stillness nor was she searching the hen houses for eggs. Shona went back into the house. The grandmother clock ticked in the hall and the house had that strange empty feel when Mirabelle was out.

  ‘Mirabelle!’

  Her voice intruded into the peaceful house. Then she remembered – Mirabelle was in her room. She had been in her favourite rocking chair by the window and would be sound asleep forgetting all about tea.

  ‘Lazy Cailleach,’ chuckled Shona bounding up the stairs. Mirabelle’s room was at the end of the landing. It was light and airy with its white chintz curtains and gay patchwork cushions and covers. Shona knew it well. Mirabelle had often rocked her in the chair and crooned old Scottish lullabys. The room was full of knick-knacks but the reason she liked to go there was because it had a ‘mother’ air about it. Everything was homely and friendly, even the smell of the room. It had Mirabelle’s smell of lavender and mothballs.

  Shona giggled when she saw she had been right. Mirabelle was fast asleep, her chin sunk in her chest. She held something tightly and a box had fallen from her lap to scatter its contents on the floor.

  Shona tiptoed forward. ‘Mirabelle, wake up! I have something lovely to tell you. You’re not going to be so weary now for Father and Miss Fraser are to be wed!’ She shook the old lady gently by the shoulder. How fast asleep she was. Her head lolled strangely and there was something unusual about her face. It was all tinged with blue, nose, lips and cheeks, even her wrinkled eyelids, but her mouth was smiling and Shona sighed. ‘Dreaming again! Och, wake up, Mirabelle till you hear my news!’

  Mirabelle suddenly slid sideways against the arm of the chair. She looked like one of the limp rag dolls she stitched so often and the little girl’s hand flew to her mouth. She backed away, frightened now of the stout old figure that had always spelled security.

  ‘Mirabelle,’ she whispered then turned and fled from the room, downstairs and into the kitchen. Sobbing she ran outside. A cool breeze had sprung from the sea and she shivered. Her head was spinning and the cold hand of fear gripped her heart with icy fingers. The farmyard was empty. Where was everyone? Normally Murdy or Mathew were about and Bob always came in for a cup of tea about now. She raced to the hayshed where she had last seen her father but he was gone. She was crying, a small whimpering sound that could have come from a lost puppy. Everything was blurred in tears, and fields and sky wobbled together. Then she spotted several figures on the road to Po
rtcull. They were specks in the distance but she knew her father was there.

  ‘Father! Father!’ she screamed, knowing it was useless. The wind was strengthening and threw particles of dust into her brimming eyes. The masses of cloud over the mountains had changed to a muddy grey with wraiths of white mist sliding down over corries and scree. The sky was a slate-blue with curling smoky clouds creeping over the landscape.

  She felt small, helpless and very lonely and ran forward to look for some familiar figure but she was all alone. The sweep of her glance took in the farmhouse and there was the open window with Mirabelle slumped in such a way that her white mutch was like a beacon in the dark window recess.

  ‘No! No! No!’ The scream tore from the child’s throat in a series of anguished protests. She began to run swiftly like a terrified animal. She tripped half a dozen times but each time she got up and ran on, heedless that her arms and legs were grazed and bleeding. She had no notion of direction but her subconscious mind guided her tired legs to the haven of Slochmhor. She burst straight into Lachlan’s surgery hour. Her auburn hair was windswept, her eyes wild like a young animal caught in a trap. Familiar faces swam in her vision. She opened her mouth but the wild hammering of her heart robbed her of breath to speak so she just stood there whimpering.

  ‘Mercy!’ exclaimed Kirsty McKinnon. ‘The bairn hasny the wind to speak!’

  Old Shelagh nodded knowingly and emitted a small belch. ‘Ach the wind, a terrible thing just!’

  Nancy Taylor, heavy and awkward in her eighth month of pregnancy, heaved herself up and put her arms round Shona’s shaking shoulders. ‘There, there, my wee chookie,’ she soothed, ‘come and sit down beside Archie and me and tell us what ails you!’

  But the little girl shook her head violently. ‘No – no. Get . . . doctor – I think Mirabelle’s dead!’

  There was a stunned silence.

  ‘Ach no, she canny be.’ Nancy spoke as if she was convincing herself because she had a great affection for Mirabelle.

  ‘God rest her soul,’ said Kirsty piously and looked heavenward.

  Elspeth’s sharp nose hove into view in the dark passageway. The gathering clouds had brought early darkness and the small hall window gave little light. The people gathered for evening surgery looked like shadows and Shona’s news had turned several faces pale.

  ‘My, it’s like a funeral to be sure!’ barked Elspeth. ‘And who’s soul’s needin’ rested?’

  ‘The bairn thinks Mirabelle’s dead,’ quavered Nancy. ‘Could you fetch the doctor quickly?’

  Elspeth turned pale. Mirabelle was her friend, the best she had because there were few who could stand her sharp tongue. Kindly Mirabelle could always be relied on for a sympathetic ear.

  ‘Dead!’ Horror made her tone sharper than ever. ‘Are you sure, child? Did your faither send you for the doctor?’

  Shona shook her head. She felt like screaming. All those questions and Mirabelle lying dead! Niall hovered in the dark hall. The commotion had brought him downstairs.

  ‘Niall!’ Shona’s voice trembled with relief at seeing him. ‘Please fetch your father! Mirabelle’s dead!’

  But Lachlan, ushering a patient from his room, heard. He reached immediately for his bag.

  ‘You’ll have to wait a while,’ he told his patients. ‘Niall, take Shona to your mother. I’ve no doubt the lass needs a bit comfort.’

  But Shona broke from Nancy’s arms. ‘No, no, let me come! She might not be dead – she just looked it! Och, please let me see her! She’s my Mirabelle!’

  Lachlan rested his hand briefly on her head. ‘All right, mo ghaoil. You’re nearest her heart.’

  He took her small hand firmly and hurried away.

  ‘Ach, I’m goin’ too,’ said Elspeth whose features had softened with grief. ‘Belle’s my friend and if she’s dyin’ I have the right to say goodbye.’ She peeled off her apron, threw it on a chair and grabbed her hat from the stand.

  Nancy’s eyes were brimming with tears. ‘My, poor dear Belle! When I worked to McKenzie she was like an auld mither to me. Are you comin’ up wi’ me, Archie?’

  In minutes the hallway was empty except for old Shelagh who hadn’t the least idea what was happening. She shook her head and sucked noisily at her mint. The hall was warm and she folded her hands and dozed. Time meant nothing to her. She was quite content to wait in the doctor’s house. It was a friendly house and Phebie would give her a cup of tea if the doctor was too long.

  Mirabelle wasn’t dead. Lachlan could see she had suffered a massive coronary and was deeply unconscious. Shona looked at the dear old face and her heart was heavy with love for the woman who had tended them all so devotedly. Now she was so helpless, unable even to move one finger, but she was alive! At least she was alive!

  Lachlan had pulled the rocking chair over to the bed and was trying to lift the old woman.

  ‘Fetch your father!’ he panted. ‘Quickly, lass, I canna manage myself.’

  ‘He’s not here, nobody’s here! They all went away and I don’t know why!’

  There was a scuffle at the door and Archie fell into the room. A tight knot of Rhanna people were outside the bedroom all eager to help.

  ‘I’ll lift her wi’ you, doctor,’ offered Archie. Getting Mirabelle’s ample proportions into bed was no easy matter but after much heaving the task was completed.

  ‘Ach, my dear auld friend,’ said Elspeth gruffly, ‘can I help get her into a goonie, doctor?’

  But he shook his head. ‘She’s almost gone. Her heart has been weary for long but she wouldn’t rest.’

  Elspeth stared. ‘You mean she knew her heart was that bad and she never told a soul? Och, doctor, and her listenin’ to all my troubles and never a murmur about her own!’

  She sat on the bed and began to cry. No one had seen Elspeth cry before and they looked at each other uncomfortably. The realization that she had such human emotions was quite a revelation and Kirsty patted her awkwardly on the back.

  Mirabelle stirred and opened her eyes. She looked as if she had come back from a great distance. Everyone looked at her and Shona snuggled against the bosom that had always spelled security.

  ‘What way is everyone here?’ she whispered stiffly. ‘Why are you here, Lachlan?’

  Lachlan ushered everyone from the room. He knew that the old lady didn’t have long. Her breath was coming in quick gasps making each word an effort.

  ‘Weesht,’ he soothed, taking her knotted hand in his. ‘Don’t talk, lass. It’s come as I told you it would if you didn’t rest.’

  Shona didn’t know what he meant but his voice was so gentle, his face so beautiful in its compassion that she could feel the deep pain he was feeling. She knew the laughing boyish Lachlan who was Niall’s father. Now she was seeing the Doctor McLachlan whose love for his patients was so strong that the power of his love could reach out and comfort those in their last moments. Sometimes it was difficult for her to understand the world of grown-ups, the things they said were never easy to decipher, but at that moment, in the small dark room with Mirabelle dying, she understood one thing clearly. Niall’s father could ease the fears of a mind that knew it was going to an unknown world. He had the gift of healing the body and an even more wonderful gift of bringing peace to a body he could no longer heal.

  Shona could feel the peace in the room. Mirabelle’s face was grey and old, but peace had replaced the weary look in her eyes. Lachlan held on to her hand, his brown eyes steady and reassuring as he spoke.

  ‘There now, Belle, don’t be frightened. You wanted it this way. No pampering an auld chookie – remember?’

  She smiled. ‘Aye, lad, a gey auld chookie.’ She turned her head and looked deep into Shona’s eyes. ‘My ain wee bairn. Did I do right to bring you up and me too auld to see it through? I wish you could have had your own mother but it wasny to be.’

  Shona felt the taste of salt from the tears pouring down her face. ‘Och, Mirabelle you are my mother! The best in the world. Do
n’t die, Mirabelle. Father’s to wed Miss Fraser and we’ll all look after you. I’ll be a better help in the house and I won’t get into tempers the way I do!’

  A light came into Mirabelle’s fading eyes.

  ‘Fergus – to wed! Where is he? And Alick? My, these two laddies were a pair to rear. Alick was ay sae canty and Fergus – Fergus so proud but wi’ a heart as big as a horse. Och, I’m glad he’s to wed that bonny lass, but where is he? I’d like fine to see him before – before . . .’

  Lachlan squeezed her hand. ‘Don’t worry, he’ll be here in a whiley.’

  She closed her eyes. ‘If only you and he could let go of the past. He admires you, son, but he was ay too stubborn for his own good. Ach, the bothers we make in this life! It might be quite a wee change to get out o’ it for a whiley.’ She smiled but her eyes remained closed. ‘Now, my wee lass.’ She took the small hand in hers. ‘I’ve a bit money put by and I’ve left it to you for when you wed. My lawyer will see to it for you.’ She nodded smilingly. ‘Oh aye, it sounds grand . . . auld Mirabelle wi’ a lawyer, but even auld housekeepers can have their wee secrets. I never had need of money – not without John and wee Donald. It’s a strange thought to think I’ll see them in a whiley, John and my own bairn.’

  Shona looked at Lachlan in puzzlement but he had Mirabelle’s wrist between his fingers. She was breathing strangely. Shona could see the pulse beating under the thin skin of her neck but it was a funny beat, very jumpy and irregular.

  Suddenly she gripped Lachlan’s hand.

  ‘Hold on to me, laddie. Shona, my wee chookie . . . coorie doon beside me – like you always did – when – your wee heart was troubled . . .’

  She drew a shuddering breath and the pulse in her neck stopped beating.

  ‘Mirabelle!’ screamed Shona. ‘Please don’t leave me!’ She threw herself against the still figure in an abandonment of grief. There was the sound of sobbing outside the room and footsteps shuffling sadly away.

  Lachlan lifted up the child. ‘She’s gone, Shona,’ he said gently, ‘we must cover her. Put her arms under the quilt.’