Song of Rhanna (The Rhanna series)

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Moors and fields sped away, the spruce hedge loomed, shutting out space, enclosing them all in a narrow dark tunnel. It fell away and once more there was light and emptiness all around except where the slopes of Ben Machrie spread down gently to meet them. Dugald breasted a rise and the chimneys of Fàilte appeared below, then they were descending the brae, slowly because of the bumps in the track. The children sensed home and stirred on Ruth’s knee. Ruth’s heart beat a little faster as she hoped that Lorn would keep his word and be pleasant to Rachel. The van swerved to avoid Ben cocking his leg on a tuft of grass, halted at last. The engine died and there was a momentary silence. The trees on the knoll rustled in the wind, the whinny of a horse came plaintively from the fields. The windows of the house were softly lit, welcoming. The door opened, spreading a larger oblong of light over the grass. Rachel’s heart beat faster than Ruth’s. Lorn stood motionless for a moment, silhouetted, a tall, powerful figure.

  ‘Favver!’ Lorna stirred and struggled to get up. Everyone seemed to move at once and all things intangible, fleeting, gave way to warmth, light, voices, laughter.

  Chapter Six

  ‘You look – well, Rachel.’ Lorn knew that the greeting was pitifully inadequate but they were the only words he could think of in those first hectic moments of Rachel’s arrival. The children were clamouring in the background, Dugald’s deep pleasant voice was droning on, telling Ruth about some incident that had happened in the shop that afternoon, Ruth was laughing, a nervous little laugh that told of her inner anxieties, the animals had risen, going from one new arrival to the next, sniffing and snuffling.

  Rachel and Lorn were left looking at one another, their eyes guarded, uneasy. Ruth had spent the whole of yesterday and most of that morning making the house as welcoming as possible. They had taken the visitor into the parlour, seldom used but now gleaming like a new pin. The brasses winked in the cheery grate, the fire leapt up the chimney, the chintz-covered sofa and chairs looked stolidly inviting, arranged as they were around the hearth, several of Dugald’s watercolours decorated the wall together with some of Ruth’s pastels of animals.

  Rachel glanced round at it all and felt a momentary sensation of panic. It was lovely, so lovely to be here on Rhanna, so good to be here at last in Ruth’s house with its air of homeliness and its old-fashioned furnishings – but it was Lorn’s house also and the realization came to her fully as she stood there looking at him, her heart beating so fast she couldn’t stop the quick rising and falling of her breasts. She had expected that he would have looked much the same as the last time she saw him but he had changed.

  He was taller, his shoulders strained against the white shirt he wore, his chest was deep and powerful, his shadowed eyes were darker, more intense than she ever remembered; so too was his hair, dark and crisp, a little tendril of it falling over his brow. He was as Lewis had been but he was something else, he had overtaken the twin who had died on the brink of manhood, he had left behind the boy and he was a man now, supremely virile and masculine, so self-contained she felt overpowered by him. His words, cool and clipped, fell on her ears. He didn’t raise his voice above the general din but she heard distinctly each clean-cut note, saw his black gaze sweeping over her so assessively she felt most uncomfortable. All her sophistication floated away like a mist before the wind leaving her feeling unsure and embarrassed. A stab of anger pierced her being. She had travelled the world, been the centrepiece for a million eyes, had been applauded, adored, fussed over wherever she went – and with just the flick of an eye Lorn McKenzie had robbed her of all the confidence she had thought was hers for all time.

  Lorn saw the anger in her dark vibrant eyes and it made him feel uncomfortable. She was more beautiful than he ever remembered, poised and confident, so perfectly groomed she seemed to him entirely out of keeping with her surroundings. Then he noticed her hands, the long sensitive fingers moving restlessly at her sides, the well-manicured nails nervously gathering little tucks in the expensive material of her skirt. It struck him that she was more than slender, she was thin, too thin, her wrists were delicate looking, the bones of her face so finely honed they endowed her with a sharpness that made her look too mature for her twenty-two years. He tried to pull his gaze away from her, but was too mesmerized by her beauty to do so. Her great dark orbs were on him, watching him, exerting a magnetism over him that was uncanny. Yet her eyes too lacked something that had been so essentially Rachel; the inner glow was extinguished, leaving them dull and rather tired looking.

  ‘You came back just in time.’ His voice was so low only she caught the words. ‘You look as though you could be doing wi’ a rest. You’ll have all you want of that here. No one will disturb you, you can be sure of that.’

  She knew quite well what he meant. He wouldn’t disturb her. He was telling her quite plainly that while she remained in the house he would make it his business to get out of it whenever possible. ‘So, nothing has really changed,’ she thought a little wearily. Lorn still resented her, had never forgiven her for what she did to his brother – ‘Well damn you, Lorn McKenzie, I’ll enjoy this precious holiday on Rhanna, despite you and your pig-headed attitude – you’re determined not to like me. Two can play at that game though I won’t even give you the satisfaction of letting you see that. It will sink in, slowly, and by then you will realize that I am the winner – in every respect.’

  ‘I can’t persuade Father to stay for his tea.’ Ruth broke into her musings. ‘It seems he has arranged to have it with Totie,’ she smiled in some bemusement. ‘Now that he has another woman in his life I will have to learn to take a back seat for a whily.’

  Dugald grinned. ‘Havers, lassie, you will always be my best girl and fine you know it.’

  Lorn couldn’t help comparing Ruth with Rachel. She looked so young, with her fair skin stained pink and her fine hair framing her small face in a silken cloud. She was slight and fragile looking, so utterly lacking in sophistication she seemed immature for her years, certainly too young looking to be a wife, let alone the mother of two sturdy infants. On impulse he caught her and kissed the tip of her freckled nose. Her face flushed and she looked at him askance for he was never demonstrative in company. ‘Will you behave yourself, Lorn McKenzie,’ she hissed in some embarrassment, although she felt warm and good, and there was a spring in her step when she escorted her father out into the fresh, windy night.

  ‘I’ll bring Rachel over to visit you, Father,’ she said as he folded his long frame in behind the steering wheel.

  ‘Ay, do that, Ruthie,’ he said warmly. ‘Better still, bring her over to have dinner with me and Totie. I know the pair o’you will have a lot planned and won’t want to waste time on an old fogey like myself but I’d like fine for you to get to know Totie better.’

  Ruth bent over to kiss the top of his silvery head. ‘Ach, I know her well enough as it is, certainly enough to know that she won’t turn out to be one o’ thon awful wicked stepmothers you hear so much about. As for you, you might be a fogey but you’re anything but an old one – you just said that because you wanted me to say otherwise.’

  Dugald ruffled her hair and banging the door shut was off with a cheery wave, the van groaning on its springs as it hurtled away down the steep track.

  When Ruth went back into the house it was to find Lorn in the kitchen getting the children into their night things on the rug by the fire. ‘Rachel wanted a wash,’ he explained briefly. ‘I showed her her room and left her to it.’

  Ruth looked worried. There was no proper bathroom in the cottage. On bathnights the zinc tub was brought before the fire and at other times the family just washed at the kitchen sink. Ruth had placed a china jug and basin in the spare room but now she wondered if such basic amenities would be adequate for such a sophisticated guest.

  Lorn saw her look and shook his head. ‘Ach, don’t fash. I put hot water in her room and filled the jug with cold. If she wants a bath at any time I’ll lug the tub into the parlour where she can ha
ve a bit of privacy. You mustny fret, I’m no’ going to sit back like an ornament and let you fetch and carry . . .’

  ‘Oh, Lorn, I haven’t . . .’ she began, but he put his finger to her lips and whispered, ‘Weesht, you’ve been dancing about like a scalded hen and fine you know it. Just relax; she might be a grand lady to look at, but deep down she’s still the wild wee lassie who roamed the island barefoot, washing her face in the burn and paddling her feet in the sea. And when you think what it was like for her at Annie’s – the wee hoosie in the bushes – the zinc tub at the fire on a Saturday night – and sometimes no’ even that. I mind fine Rachel and her brothers being scrubbed in the sink at the kitchen window for all the world to see.’

  Ruth giggled. ‘Ay, you’re right, it’s easy sometimes to forget these things.’ She hesitated. ‘Lorn – it will be all right, won’t it? She’s so pleased to be here. On the road up from Kate’s she was so eager to take it all in – and – I want her to enjoy her wee holiday so much.’

  ‘Ay, it will be all right,’ he assured gruffly.

  ‘She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Lorn? Such bonny clothes, I’ve never seen the likes in all my life.’

  There was a wistfulness in her voice that made Lorn look at her with deep tenderness.

  ‘I canny deny it, she is a bonny young woman – as for her clothes – I’d rather have my Ruthie any day in her simple frock and peeny. Can you imagine cleaning out the fire and looking after the bairns done up in all that finery? You would look like a tinker in no time.’

  ‘Daftie,’ she smiled but couldn’t suppress a little sigh as she went to put the finishing touches, to the table which she had set in the parlour earlier that day.

  The meal was a simple one, requested by Rachel herself in her last letter when final arrangements were being made. Ruth felt nervous as she brought the dishes to the table, wondering if her friend was just being polite asking for a traditional island dish to be served. But Rachel, her face shining from its recent wash, looked positively delighted and clasped her hands as if in anticipation of a big treat. She had changed out of her red suit into a simple white polo-necked jersey and fawn slacks and she had tied back her raven curls with a red scarf. All at once she wasn’t a sophisticated town girl anymore but the Rachel that Ruth remembered and felt at ease with. With shining eyes she removed the lids from the dishes and gazed with joy at mounds of fluffy mashed potatoes and at the piping hot rolls of herring sprinkled with toasted oatmeal. Closing her eyes she sniffed and sniffed the tempting aroma as if she could never get enough of it and the children, who until then had been gazing at her in silent, round-eyed appraisal, began to laugh, their peals of childish merriment ringing out to break the rather formal silence which had filled the house since Rachel’s arrival. Lorn looked at Ruth. Simultaneously they both let go of their breath in unconscious relief and Ruth felt the little knot of nerves which had lain in her belly all day slowly dissipating.

  The rest of the meal passed in lighthearted mood, though little Lorna could hardly take her eyes off her godmother, a frown on her brow as she watched the lively exchanges between Rachel and her mother. Only Ruth could understand such rapid sign language and Lorn kept his attention on his plate, annoyed to find himself embarrassed and at a disadvantage. A lot of unexpected emotions were besetting him. He had been surprised at how utterly peaceful it could be in the presence of a person without speech. He had expected an awkwardness in the atmosphere but watching Rachel’s expressive eyes speaking the volumes her lips would never utter, seeing the grace of her slender hands flashing out word after word, he knew that his embarrassment came strictly from his own inability to understand the girl’s mute conversation. There had been a time when he could follow her sign language, but that had been long ago and now he had forgotten most of what he had ever learnt. He noticed that Ruth’s face was animated as she followed each rapid move and spoke eagerly in return, for though Rachel couldn’t speak she could hear perfectly, and it was an easy matter to hold a conversation with her – as long as you understood what her hands were saying.

  Glancing at his daughter he couldn’t suppress a smile. Frowning in concentration, she was following Rachel’s every move whilst trying to copy them with her chubby little fingers. Douglas was too engrossed with the contents of his plate to take much notice of anything else but Lorna had almost forgotten her food in the new challenge before her. Rachel turned and saw the little girl’s actions and her face broke into a smile of radiance which swept away all its weariness.

  ‘We must all learn your language, Rachel.’ Lorn spoke for the first time since the start of the meal. ‘If not, I can see night after night stretching ahead with me being forced to sit watching you two women gossiping.’

  ‘Oh, Lorn, would you?’ Ruth’s skin was pink with the excitement of that first evening at Fàilte in the company of Rachel. ‘It’s really very easy – look – start with the simple words first.’

  Lorn’s tanned skin flushed. He felt a surge of annoyance at Ruth for pinning him down like this, and rather moodily he watched as she took him through some of the basics. The children too were entranced by this new and unusual ‘game’ and an oddly peaceful silence pervaded the room. Ben sneaked through from the kitchen and proceeded to mop up the crumbs that were always to be had near Douglas’ little chair; Bracken sat in rapt attention on one of the spare chairs by the table, large green orbs gently panning the remainder of the herring in the dish; Mallow rolled on the rug by the fire, her purrs filling the silence; a shower of sparks crackled in the chimney breast; the clock ticked lazily.

  Rachel sat back in her chair watching all the fingers working furiously and a smile lit her face at the sight of Lorn’s big masculine hands trying gamely to keep up with Ruth’s. Rachel’s gaze travelled to her god-daughter and she caught the child’s eyes on her in wide-eyed assessment. All at once, and to Lorna’s utter astonishment, Rachel pulled a truly hideous face, pushing the tip of her nose back with her middle finger, with the others slanting her eyes till the whole effect was totally horrific in one who had only moments before been a picture of loveliness. A slow smile spread over the child’s rosy features, she began to chuckle heartily, attracting her baby brother’s attention to Rachel’s face. The little boy showed his pearly white teeth and then he began to laugh, a fat, deep, hearty laugh that made Ruth and Lorn look at him in anticipation. From an early age Douglas had shown himself to have a well-developed sense of humour, matched by a laugh so infectious it was a joy to hear.

  Rachel pulled one funny face after another and the child’s throaty chuckle, so deep it might have come from his tiny boots, continued to grow in volume till he shook, wobbled and rolled in his seat. He paused for breath, while everyone else held theirs and then he was off again, gurgling, giggling, chuckling, his little pot belly wobbling, his crinkled eyes fixed on Rachel’s face in unending fascination. In the end he laughed so much he lost control of everything. He began hiccuping uncontrollably and at the same time a great surge of wind broke from his layers of pants with such gusto he was momentarily stunned. For a few seconds it looked as if he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry then the sprite came back to his eyes and he was off again, looking like a jolly little friar with the baldy patch on top of his fair head and his chubby fists tucked into his sleeves.

  Rachel got up from the table to go through to her room, emerging with her arms filled with presents for everyone, toys for the children, a neat little portable typewriter for Ruth, and a new fiddle for Lorn. Ruth was speechless with delight, Lorn once more swamped by an embarrassment that made him awkward and brusque in his thanks. The children were in raptures over the new toys, but Lorn went over to take his son in his arms. ‘Come on, young man, bed for you, you’ve had enough excitement for one night – you too, Lorna. You can take the toys through and play for a wee whily in bed. I’ll tuck you both up and tell you the story about the fairy folk that live in the caves by Burg Bay.’

  But for once Lorna was not swayed by suc
h temptations. She hovered shyly by Rachel’s side and holding up her hands made little gestures that were recognizable as letters in the sign language. A strange, indefinable expression touched Rachel’s face. She gazed down at the tiny girl and her hand came out to touch the mop of curly hair, fair in babyhood but now turning a rich, glowing brown. A smile took away the strangeness of Rachel’s look and standing up she plucked Douglas from Lorn’s arms, held out her hand to Lorna and went with them out of the room. Like lambs they allowed her to take them, not even a murmur of protest from Douglas who normally liked his father to take him to bed.