Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Absently she fingered the locket at her neck and Fergus leaned over the table curiously.

  ‘That’s new,’ he remarked. ‘A present?’

  ‘In a way, an engagement present from Niall, instead of a ring. Oh Father . . .’ She sucked in her breath and her eyes swam with tears. ‘Niall wants to marry me – after the war! We love each other! I suppose we’ve known for a long time but today it all just came out! I think it was when he said he was joining the Army. I’m happy . . . yet at the same time my heart is all funny and achey! I’m so much in love I could burst, yet I’m so frightened I could cry and cry! You know how I feel, don’t you, Father?’ The tears poured over and she ran to him.

  ‘There now, my lassie,’ he soothed, stroking her hair gently. ‘Yes, I know how you feel – so well I know – only with you and Niall there’s so much youth and hope. I’m losing my hope – and my youth!’

  She tore herself away. ‘No, no,’ she cried fiercely. ‘You’re not getting old! You’re so big and strong and I’ve always thought you were like a big boy! Even when I was a tiny wee girl you were just such a boy. You’re not even forty yet!’

  He laughed. ‘Thirty-nine, mo ghaoil, but I’ve heard tell life begins at forty, so maybe there’s hope for me yet. But you are just beginning and have all the strength of your convictions I once had. I’m glad about you and Niall. He’s a fine lad and he’ll come marching out of the war with his head held high. I’m not surprised he joined the Army, he’s got Lachlan’s spirit.’

  She buried her face into the warm hairy flesh at the top of his neck. It was good just to feel his strength and listen to his soft lilting voice and by the time she had put eggs and cake into a basket and was walking to Shelagh’s cottage she was feeling much better.

  A gay whistle made her turn and Niall came up to her. They said nothing but their fingers entwined in an unconscious gesture of affection.

  Shelagh wheezed and grumbled at them but they knew she was glad to see them. She was eighty-three. Her hair was snowy white and her skin unblemished and smoothly pink though in the last six months she had failed rapidly, her once pear-shaped bulk thin and frail. She was dying of cancer. Lachlan had discovered it long ago and had wanted her to go to a mainland hospital for treatment but she was adamant that her pains were merely caused by her ‘winds’ and no force on earth would make her leave Rhanna.

  ‘I won’t be having a strange doctor prodding at my belly,’ she scolded Lachlan. ‘And I won’t be lying in some foreign mortuary like a lump o’ frozen meat and maybe gettin’ cut up like a yowe on a slab and me never there to do anything about it. No, no, laddie, it’s the Kirkyard for me beside the friends I’ve known all my days.’

  Niall seated himself on a raffia stool beside the old lady’s chair.

  ‘And how’s my lass these days? Still driving all the men crazy, are we?’

  ‘Ach, dinna be daft,’ she answered with asperity. ‘The only way I ever drove anybody daft was wi’ my farts! Mind you . . .’ Her old blue eyes twinkled. ‘There was a time when I had the lads at my skirts but the dirty buggers were all after the one thing!’ She chuckled wickedly. ‘I watched you two holdin’ hands outside. Is it in love you are?’

  ‘Yes, Shelagh,’ said Shona simply.

  ‘Ach well, keep a grip o’ your dock, mo ghaoil. This one looks a real buck.’

  ‘You know then, Shelagh?’ grinned Niall cheekily.

  Shelagh was enjoying herself enormously. ‘Aye, we all have our moments, and of course there’s the things I was after seein’ when I worked to the gentry. I could write a book but it would never be published for it would indeed shock the Sunday people!’ She giggled.

  ‘I brought you some eggs and a cake, Shelagh.’ Shona wanted to divert the conversation. It was strange. She had always enjoyed the earthy humour of the islanders but now she didn’t want to hear it in front of Niall. She felt embarrassed and a little angry that he obviously had no such reserve. His corn curls were almost touching Shelagh’s snowy locks as they laughed heartily together. The old lady’s high-pitched cackle filled the little cottage. A late sunbeam streamed through the open door and shone on the two heads, turning one to gold, and the other to silver. The anger left Shona and in its place came sadness. Shelagh had so little time, yet she showed no sign of fear and could still laugh merrily though she suffered constant pain. Shona’s anger was turned against herself for grudging the old woman a little pleasure. ‘I hope you like the cake, you daft Cailleach,’ she smiled. ‘I made it myself with a wee spot rum to warm you up.’

  Shelagh smiled coyly. ‘Oh did you now? And what would I be wantin’ wi’ rum in a cake? It’s a good measure in a glass I’m needin’ but I’ll eat a wee bit o’ your cake though it will likely give me a bad dose o’ the winds.’

  A spasm of pain twisted her mouth and Shona saw that she was very weary.

  ‘We’ll be going, Shelagh,’ she said gently. ‘Let you get on with that awful shocking book you’re going to write.’

  Shelagh gripped her hand. ‘I doubt if I’ve enough time to write a letter, my wee lass. Away you go now, it must be good to be young and to know that death is far away. I’m glad the pair o’ you have discovered each other. All those years . . . I’ve watched you both growin’ . . . never one without the other . . . it’s right you should fall in love. And thank you for the eggs, they’re grand so they are. I miss a fresh egg since I had to give up my own hens.’

  Old Joe came in, his cheeks as smooth and round as ever, and his sea green eyes twinkling but not quite so brightly when he looked at Shelagh.

  ‘How’s the whining old bugger?’ he greeted his cousin with brusque affection. ‘Still weathering the storm, is it?’

  ‘She’ll see the snows of many a winter yet,’ said Niall too brightly.

  Shelagh nodded her head calmly. ‘The autumn will see me out. I’ll go wi’ the leaves o’ summer.’

  Niall bent and kissed her on the cheek.

  ‘You young bull,’ she cackled but she was thrilled.

  ‘You’re fond of old Shelagh,’ observed Shona when they were strolling down to the harbour. ‘It was nice – the way you kissed her.’

  ‘I know she won’t be here when next I come back to Rhanna,’ he said quietly and when she glanced at him she saw the glaze of unshed tears in his brown eyes. She knew his heart cried for the dear, familiar people they had once thought immortal.

  It was peaceful at the harbour. The smell of tar hung in the air and the gulls mewed placidly as they rummaged in the seaweed for small marine creatures. The sky was pure blue with a touch of gold on the horizon and darkness would never fall completely on such a June evening. Hand in hand they ran over the wooden planks of the pier and stopped to look breathlessly at the unbelievably brilliant royal blue of the Sound of Rhanna.

  ‘Such a night,’ whispered Shona. ‘It’s perfect.’

  He drew her close and kissed her full on the lips. ‘I’ll never forget this day and I’ll always remember how you look now – with your hair on fire against the set of the sun, and a smudge of peat soot on your nose. Hold still till I wipe it off.’

  He took out a rather grubby handkerchief, wet it in a salty puddle, then scrubbed her nose till she giggled, ‘Och Niall, they’ll be peeking behind their curtains and thinking we’re daft. You know what they’re like.’

  ‘I want them to know about us. The world can watch me kissing you and washing your face with water from the sea. I want to shout to everyone that I love you. I don’t care what anyone thinks!’

  He grabbed her hand again and they ran to the end of the pier. A number of fishing boats were bobbing gently, shadowed waves slapping against their hulls. A dog barked from one; an old fisherman, pipe hanging from his mouth, worked with lobster pots on another, but several craft were deserted.

  ‘C’mon,’ said Niall and they clambered aboard the nearest to snuggle among tarpaulin and ropes. They lay in each other’s arms and the sea rocked them.

  ‘I love boats,’ s
aid Shona. ‘They’re lovely, smelly, exciting things.’ She propped herself on an elbow. ‘It’s lovely to see Portcull in the gloaming. The men will be eating supper and the children maybe having a scrub in the zinc tub before bed. Look at the reek from the chimneys – spiralling into the sky without a breath to blow it away.’

  He propped himself up to look at the picture she described but her nearness disturbed any attempt at concentration. He slid his arm round her waist to pull her closer. For a moment she was dimly aware of the cloudless sky above before his head blotted everything out and she was once again oblivious to all but his lips doing things with hers that made her feel she was drowning in a world of ecstasy. She knew she was responding to him with the desires of a full grown woman. That morning she had still been a child; tonight she was a woman and she knew her life would never be the same again. She would think of Niall but her thoughts would hold all these lovely intimate secrets that were happening now. For a moment she was afraid of the strength of his passion. Fleetingly she tried to remember what he had been like on his last visit home but strangely she was unable to visualize the boyish, mischievous Niall of yesteryears; not now, when he was groaning deep in his throat and she could feel the hardness of his young body pressed to her own. He was murmuring her name over and over and his brown eyes held a look she had never seen before. She ran her fingers through his hair, feeling the warm dampness at the nape of his neck. Again his hands caressed her breasts and she closed her eyes, wanting the night of warm desire and clinging bodies to last forever, but a screaming gull, and voices on the shore called her to reality. ‘Niall,’ she whispered urgently, ‘stop now please.’

  He fell back on the deck his breath coming quickly. After a while he caught her hand and kissed it. ‘I’m sorry, mo ghaoil. You make me forget everything when I’m near you. It’s as well you stopped me.’

  She kissed his warm forehead. ‘I heard people but – I think I would have stopped anyway. We – we don’t know each other well enough yet.’

  He saw that she was serious but he couldn’t suppress a yell of mirth. ‘You dear funny wee thing!’ He leaned on an elbow. ‘Look, the water’s lovely. Let’s go for a paddle, I need something to cool me down.’

  They were carefree again, divesting themselves of shoes and stockings to splash in the clear brown shallows. A few Portcull children watched longingly till, unable to resist, they too were dancing in the water, risking a scolding from parents for coming home with damp hems and wet knickers.

  Morag Ruadh came along, combing the beach for driftwood. ‘A fine night,’ she observed, looking disapprovingly at Shona’s skirt tucked into her knickers, but ’tis chilled you’ll get with the sea splashin’ up your backsides.’

  ‘Och, it’s lovely, Morag,’ laughed Niall. ‘It’s up with your skirt, off with your shoes, and in you should be yourself!’

  ‘Havers,’ sniffed Morag, ‘it’s stiff feets I would be getting and not able to get a note of sense out of the harmonium on the Sabbath, forbye the fact that I would not be able to spin my cloth and there’s some of us must work for a living.’ She glanced proudly at her long nimble fingers. ‘Without me our house would go to ruin. I tell you. My mother has hands like cow’s feets and my father just spends his days damping the peat with his spit. But the day will come . . .’ She was already drifting away . . . ‘when I’ll be after marrying and where will we all be then?’

  Shona giggled. ‘Poor Morag Ruadh, she’s waited for a man for years and thinks that the world will fall to pieces if she ever gets wed. I know for a fact Totie Little has waited years to get a chance to play the organ and poor old Mr and Mrs McDonald love when Morag’s out the house so that they can get a rest from her tongue.’

  Niall grinned. ‘It’s her red hair that makes her tongue go – just like yours. All you Caillich Ruadhs have bad tempers!’

  She bent to pick up a shoe to throw at him but he was already halfway up the beach, leaving a trail of footprints in the sand. She ran after him and they walked hand in hand through Portcull carrying their shoes. They took the path through the fields and the delicious fragrance of new-cut grass filled their nostrils. At the top of the field they stood for a moment, looking down at the roofs and chimneys of Laigmhor.

  ‘Father will be making cocoa,’ she said softly. ‘I’d better put on my shoes and stockings or he will wonder what I’ve been doing.’

  She squatted down on the grass and Niall sat beside her. He caught her hand and kissed her briefly. ‘We won’t give him any reason to worry,’ he said seriously. ‘We won’t give ourselves the opportunity for being alone very often. I love you too much to want to do anything to harm you so I think it would be a good idea to take Fiona with us. I promised her a picnic and a day in one of Ranald’s boats. She’s a wee pest I know but she’ll keep me in order. Do you mind?’

  ‘No, I don’t mind, Niall, it would be for the best and I don’t think Fiona’s a nuisance at all. She asks a lot of questions but so did I at seven.’

  He grinned. ‘You still do, and daft ones at that, but I can thole them now – because I love you.’

  She held his hand briefly, then she was flying downhill, her hair a mane of red in the setting sun.

  Fergus had the milk ready for the bedtime cocoa. He studied her flushed face as she buttered scones at the table.

  ‘You’re late in,’ he said lightly, trying not to sound as if he were interfering with her life.

  She giggled. ‘Do you know what I’ve been doing, Father? Paddling with Niall down at the harbour! It was lovely – the water so cool!’

  ‘Paddling?’ He laughed. ‘And not a finer night for it. I wouldn’t mind myself but could you imagine what Portcull would have to say about that?’

  She gave Tot milk, then sat opposite Fergus to sip her cocoa.

  He looked again at her face, which was partially curtained by her long hair and knew that the time had come for her heart to hold its secrets. ‘Take care,’ he said softly, ‘now that you’re a woman.’

  She looked up quickly but knew instantly what he meant. ‘Yes, Father, I’ll try.’ She shrugged her shoulders, looking at him pleadingly. ‘There’s so much that’s new – feelings I never knew existed. I know I still look the same – but – inside I’ve changed. I think I grew up today, it’s a wee bit frightening.’

  His strong, dark face relaxed a little. ‘You’re still such a little lass really. Mirabelle would have you in black stockings and blue ribbons.’

  ‘Do you remember these things, Father?’

  ‘You’d be surprised at what I remember. I see everything, though you might not always think it. I’m not old and feeble yet, you know.’

  She looked at his slim, powerful body, and burst out laughing. ‘Och Father! Do you think I see you as a withered old Bodach? You’re so good-looking I’d marry you myself if I could. Oh – if only Kirsteen could come back – we could all be happy.’

  He stopped laughing and the shadows of his loneliness veiled his dark eyes.

  ‘You know too much,’ he said angrily. ‘I can’t remember discussing my private life with you!’

  ‘Father, don’t shout so,’ she chided angrily. ‘Perhaps if you did talk to me of such things it would help. I’m old enough to understand now.’

  ‘I never could talk about myself,’ he growled, his voice tightly controlled, ‘and I don’t know what makes you think you’ll have a privilege no one else ever had.’

  She got up and touched his shoulder lightly. ‘It might be because I’m your daughter,’ she murmured and bent to kiss his bowed head before she turned and went upstairs to bed.

  The week flew past. Shona and Niall were seldom alone and never even managed a return visit to the cave. Niall’s original idea to take Fiona on an occasional outing turned sour on him because Phebie took a bout of summer ‘flu and had to take to bed. Elspeth was kept so busy managing the house and the surgery she had no time for anything else.

  Niall was assigned the task of shopping and each mor
ning left the house with Elspeth’s shrill orders ringing in his ears. He refused to carry a shopping basket. The first morning they set out Fiona skipped at his side, swinging the basket high in the air, and imploring him to give her some pennies for sweets.

  ‘Oh shut up, you wee nuisance!’ he rapped. He was in one of his rare tempers. Elspeth had nagged him since breakfast which he’d had to get for himself because he’d lain longer than normal and arose after everyone else had breakfasted.

  Tears sprang into Fiona’s eyes at her adored big brother’s sharp words. She was a tiny sprite of a child with straight brown hair cut in a heavy fringe and button bright eyes alive with mischief. She was the opposite of her brother, both in looks and temperament. He had always been easy-going but she was stubborn and had tantrums that were the despair of Mr Murdoch at school and a puzzle to her good-natured, placid parents. But despite her moods she could be angelic and loving when she wanted and Niall could always get the best from her with his easy calm manner and quiet affection.

  Now they were both out of spirits and trudged sullenly along the road. A twite uttered a note of alarm from its nest in the heather and a group of scaup crooned contentedly on the calm green waters of Loch Tenee. A frog hopped unhurriedly into the moss at the road’s edge and overhead, soaring in the wide blue of the sky, a skylark trilled notes of pure merriment. Normally, one of these things would have brought Niall at least from his mood, but not this morning, and the very fact that Fiona ignored the frog showed that her stubborn little heart was badly hurt.

  They trudged into the post office in disgruntled silence and while Niall purchased groceries Fiona made a face at Behag behind his back. Behag sucked in her thin lips and banged a packet of tea viciously on the counter. ‘Cheeky wee upstart,’ she sniffed. ‘Got your mither’s sense o’ humour, I see.’

  Niall looked up quickly. ‘What’s that about my mother?’