‘I had thought better of you, Lorn.’ That was all she said. It had been a brief judgement but one which made him feel more sorrow than any bitter outpouring. Shona hadn’t said much either but there had been an odd expression on her face, as if in some strange way she hadn’t been greatly surprised by the news. He had been glad of Niall’s support. He had taken him into his study and made him swallow a good dram of whisky.
‘These things happen to the best of us.’ His brown eyes had been full of compassion and had reminded Lorn of Lachlan. ‘You’re no worse or no better than many, so stop going around as if you and you alone were the perpetrator of this particular situation.’
Despite his kind words Lorn did feel that he was worse than anyone else. Lying there in his lonely bed he felt small and mean, and his heart hurt so much for the wrong he had done he wanted only to curl up into a tight ball and die.
Down below in the cobbled yard, Ben lifted his nose to the night sky and howled. It was as if he knew what had happened and was commiserating in his own particular way, as if he was aware that the secure routine of his life was in jeopardy and he sensed that he might not live long enough to see the return of people and things which had been part of his life for so long.
Lorn stood in the cluttered homely kitchen of Dungowrie Farm and faced Jean Jackson with pleading in his eyes. ‘Please, can I see my wife?’ His voice was soft, frayed with the anxiety he had endured on his long journey to Ayrshire.
His father’s optimistic predictions about Ruth coming back to him had not come to fruition. A month had elapsed. In that time he had waited every other day for Erchy the Post to bring some news that would let him know that his wife was safe, that Lorna was well, but nothing, not even a note, came. He had gone from moods of despair and sorrow to anger, bitterness, self-pity. He argued with himself continually, convinced himself that Ruth had never loved him, if she had she wouldn’t have done this to him, couldn’t let him suffer so heartlessly. He loved her one minute, hated her the next, longed for her, rejected her fiercely.
But through all his various emotional swings, the knowledge was always there at the back of his mind that he was the cause of all that had happened and he grew weary to the point of exhaustion from endless nights of broken sleep. And the gossips were starting to get suspicious about Ruth’s absence even though it had been put about that she had gone off to recuperate from her illness, taking Lorna with her for company.
Whenever he had reason to go to the Post Office, Behag eyed him in knowing disdain while everyone else asked after Ruth’s health till he was driven to distraction. To make matters worse, Merry Mary had witnessed Ruth’s early morning departure from the island and, more from genuine concern than maliciousness, had broadcast the fact far and wide.
‘The poor lassie looked so peakit and ill and that bonny wee bairnie was so quiet and miserable looking. I could have run after her and hugged her to my bosom – and never a soul to see them off – and she only had two wee cases, as if she had packed them in quite a hurry and couldny wait to take more.’
And then Dugald and Totie had come home, the former bright-eyed, with a spring in his step. Lorn had tried to break the news gently but had instead blurted it out, and the stunned look on Dugald’s face had brought all his guilt and self-hatred flooding back. He had hoped that Ruth had written to her father, but there was nothing, not even a postcard. It had been a fine welcome home for a couple just starting a new life together, yet Dugald had wasted no time in useless accusations. Instead he had regarded Lorn for long thoughtful moments then finally said, ‘You were feart something like it would happen – that day Ruthie told me you and she had argued about Rachel coming to stay I knew you had a good reason for not wanting the lass in your home.’
‘That doesn’t make any of this easier,’ Lorn had said bitterly.
‘No, no, lad, it doesn’t, but we mustny waste time arguing, we’ll have to see this thing through together for we’re the only two people in the world who really love our Ruthie. What you did was shocking and shameful and if I was a younger man I might have given you a good hiding for it, but I’m old enough to know that you love my lassie despite what you did. I also know you’re going to do everything in your power to make her forgive you and come back to you.’
The three of them had discussed the matter well into the small hours, exploring all the possibilities of Ruth’s whereabouts, but there had been so few of them they had been in despair. Outside her family Ruth had few contacts. Lorn mentioned the possibility of reporting her missing to the authorities but both Dugald and Totie rejected the suggestion. This was a family affair – God knows what Ruth might do if she learned the police were after her. In the end Lorn remembered Jean Jackson whom his wife had spoken of with such enthusiasm and the very next morning he left Rhanna to find Dungowrie Farm.
His heart beat fast as he spoke to the tiny, grey-haired woman with her kindly face, rotund figure, and eyes the colour of cornflowers. They had twinkled when she had come round the corner of the byre and saw him standing at the front door of the big, untidy farmhouse looking sheepish and unsure but they weren’t twinkling now on hearing why he had come.
‘Sit ye doon, laddie,’ she directed kindly. ‘You’re big and I’m wee and I’ll get a sair neck squintin’ up at ye.’
Lorn sat himself on the edge of a well-patched sofa and she sat down near him. ‘I’m glad ye’ve come,’ she nodded. ‘I ken what happened between the pair o’ ye. I’m no’ one to judge so I’ll no’ bother tellin’ ye what a silly laddie ye’ve been for by the look o’ ye, ye ken that already.’
‘Is Ruthie here?’ he broke in roughly, unable to bear the suspense any longer.
Jean nodded slowly. ‘Ay, she’s here right enough, but a very different lassie from the one I knew in hospital. Oh, she’s a grand help about the place though I don’t let her tackle anything too heavy. Davie – that’s my man – likes her fine for she knows a lot aboot runnin’ a farm and was able to help him wi’ a calving the other night. But och, she’s no’ a happy lass. I hear her greetin’ in her room at night – and the wee one, my, but she’s a quiet wee thing – nary a word to say for herself.’
Lorn’s heart plummeted. Lorna, quiet? That happy child who gave him such joy with her singing and her whimsical ways. From the corner of his eye he saw Ruth and Lorna coming across the yard towards the house. He stood up, his big frame tense, a coil of nerves in his belly as he waited for the door to open. She came in slowly, as if somehow she had expected him. She was thin and pale, her face expressionless as she saw him standing beside Jean’s diminutive form.
‘Ruthie.’ Her name was a mere breath on his lips. Lorna’s eyes had grown big at sight of him, an expression of disbelief flitting over her face.
‘Favver!’ She sang out the name, joyfully, lovingly, then she was flying across the room, a tiny blur of delight. He caught her and gathered her to his heart, awash with love for this little mite with her soft brown hair and her huge violet-blue eyes. Her arms went round his neck and then she held his dark head between her two small hands and said again softly, shyly, ‘Favver,’ as if she couldn’t believe he was real and might disappear at any moment. A rush of love overwhelmed him. Kissing her petal-soft cheek he murmured, ‘My babby, my babby,’ and all the while he was aware that Ruth’s expression had barely changed though there was such burning resentment in her eyes he could almost hear her saying, ‘Why are you here? I warned you not to come looking for me.’
‘Could we – talk, Ruthie?’
The lilting voice fell on her ears like the purling of the burn that ran through Fàilte’s green fields. She looked at him, at his strong, handsome face pale with misery and guilt, at the deep cleft in his chin that had entranced her from the start, at his big powerful male body, so tall his head almost touched the low-beamed ceiling, and her heart twisted with a renewal of the pain she had endured since her departure from Rhanna’s shores. She had almost convinced herself that she hated him and now here he
was, so big and real she was overwhelmed by him, by his blue eyes piercing her soul with their expression of pleading.
She saw the change in him a few short weeks had wrought, he was thinner, his young face was strangely gaunt.
She despised herself for being weak enough to want to take him in her arms, to tell him that she still loved him, that all she needed was time to get over the hurt and humiliation he had caused her . . .
‘I told you not to come, Lorn.’ Her voice was so brittle it was a surprise even to herself and she knew she could never forgive him for what he had done. In coming here he had just made matters worse – he should have stayed away. Suddenly she had a mental picture of Rachel touching the bronzed exciting body that she had thought was hers alone – of him touching Rachel . . .
Jean Jackson murmured something about tea and made to withdraw from the room, taking an unwilling Lorna with her, but Ruth stayed her by saying, ‘No, Jean, don’t go, what my husband has to say isn’t important.’
She ignored the pleading in his eyes, the message that said plainer than words, ‘Don’t do this to me, Ruthie – to us.’
Her face was set and hard, so unlike the girl he knew he felt she was a stranger, someone he had never known – never loved.
Jean’s plump face showed her embarrassment. Shaking her head sorrowfully, she went from the room, closing the door softly behind her. The last thing Lorn saw of his daughter was her beseeching gaze turned towards him, making him more determined than ever to try to persuade Ruth to come back to him.
The door had hardly shut when she faced him angrily and said through gritted teeth, ‘Get away from here, Lorn, I warn you, if you don’t, I’ll do something far worse than just leave you with Douglas – I’ll make it so you’ll be left with nothing and you’ll wish you had never been born a McKenzie! You’re all the same, every one of you, lustful, deceitful – weak . . .’ She halted. That wasn’t true. From the beginning Lorn’s strength had been the quality that had struck her most. In the early days when he had fought one battle after another with ill health, his strength had come to him from within. Later, when he had overcome his physical weaknesses she had admired every aspect of his strength – yet all that had been swept away in one weak moment of his life – but it was that moment that mattered most, it scattered everything that went before as easily as gossamer threads before the wind.
He spread his hands. ‘Ruthie, if you ever loved me, forgive me – if not for my sake then for the children. Douglas is only a baby. He needs you, Ruthie.’
Her head went up. ‘In that case I’ll come back and get him. It will no’ be easy coping with two bairns but . . .’
‘That’s not what I meant and fine you know it!’
She heard the break in his voice, his effort to imbue firmness into his tones. She thought of her little son, asking for her, wondering when she was coming back and she couldn’t stop the tears welling into her eyes. She longed for him, his bonny baby face, his hearty, pot-bellied laughter. She forced the tears back – she couldn’t – she must not weaken.
‘Your father is back, Ruthie – he was happy till he found out that you were gone.’ It was his final weapon, a last desperate effort to get her to come home. But it was his undoing. Her fist flew to her mouth, she took a step backwards, an awkward heavy step that emphasized her limp.
‘If my father’s unhappy it’s because of you,’ she accused bitterly. ‘Don’t use him against me. Tell him I’ll write – I didn’t before because I couldn’t thole the idea of a letter like that waiting for him – and because I was so ashamed of what had happened. I hate you, Lorn,’ she continued, her voice flat, lifeless. ‘Go away from here now. I never want to see you again. You’ve taken everything from me I ever loved – my family – my home. I’ll suffer more than you will because you still have all that. The only thing I can wish on you is a humiliation as deep and as sore as mine. It will serve you right if the cailleachs rant on about you till you feel you can never hold up your head again, for whatever excuses you have made up about my leaving will soon go like a puff of wind.’
She laughed, a high hysterical laugh that cut him to the bone. ‘As for Rachel – if ever she has reason to come back to Rhanna without Jon – just think, you and she can lust together all you like and no one there to deceive or lie to—’
‘For God’s sake, Ruthie, you make it sound as if I had made a habit of going with other women! Rachel was the only one . . .’
‘Once is once too often,’ she spat at him maliciously. ‘Go home and dream about your one and only mistress! If you play your cards right you and Rachel can have a really good time to yourselves in future – and just think – the poor dumb cratur’ will never be able to nag you or ask you who you are with when you’re no’ with her!’
Her eyes were wild, staring. Lorn looked at her in disbelief. Had he done this to her or had it always been there just waiting to come out? She wrenched the door open, almost bumping into Jean with her tray of tea things. At sight of the two heated faces Jean’s kindly face fell. She had hoped for a reconciliation between the two young people, had hoped to see smiles instead of fury.
‘My husband is just going, Jean.’ Ruth looked at him, challenging him to say otherwise. He straightened, lifted his head, squared his shoulders. ‘Write and let me know how Lorna is.’ His tones were clipped.
‘I’ll write to my father – ask him if there’s anything you want to know.’
He brushed past her, murmuring his thanks to Jean who put out her hand and touched him sympathetically on the shoulder. He stumbled outside, unable to see for tears. The golden fields of Ayrshire rolled into the blue distance; a tractor purred; a blackbird sang from a nearby tree – and far far away the cuckoo was calling, as if it had followed him here and was letting him know that his place wasn’t in the flatlands of Ayrshire but among the hills and glens of Rhanna.
He didn’t look back once at the rambling farmhouse, didn’t see Lorna gazing forlornly from the window. He couldn’t think straight, wasn’t even certain where he would stay that night, he had visualized a reconciliation with Ruth, a night at the farm, a journey back to Rhanna with Lorna and Ruth at his side.
He went to the nearest hotel to drink himself insensible before falling into a strange bed, too anaesthetized with liquor to be able to care about anything or anyone.
When he got back to Rhanna he went straight to Dugald to tell him the news then he went home to put money in an envelope which he addressed to Dungowrie Farm. If Ruthie wouldn’t allow him to have his little girl back at least he could send money to ensure that she was properly clothed and fed. He paused with his pen in his hand and remembered the joy in her face when she had beheld him standing in Jean Jackson’s kitchen. A tremor went through him. He could send as much money as he liked but that could never buy the security that an intelligent, sensitive child like Lorna needed – and for the first time fear gripped him – fear that he might never know the joy of watching his daughter grow up – and all because he had allowed a moment of weakness to overrule the sagacity that had been with him all his life.
Part Three
Summer 1964
Chapter Thirteen
‘She is a woman! A young one at that!’ Todd cried aghast, staring in disbelief at the slender figure walking on the road below Kate’s cottage. ‘I will no’ have a woman lookin’ at my private parts!’
‘She will be a foreigner likely,’ expostulated Jim Jim in dismay. ‘She will no’ be able to understand our ways!’
‘Ach, she is not foreign, she is Welsh – Doctor Jenkins to you seeing you’ll just be her patients. She told me to call her Megan wi’ me being part o’ the family so to speak.’ Elspeth puffed out her scrawny bosom importantly, a pride in her because she had been introduced to the new doctor in common with the rest of the family. It made her feel that she was one of them, not just the housekeeper, an outsider who had to be kept in her proper place. They were all having a blether outside Kate’s cottage. A few of the
m had met to keep each other company on the walk over to the doctor’s surgery where they were heading in just a few moments. The sight of the new doctor, also making her way to Lachlan’s house, had induced a temporary unanimity among them, for Behag was in their midst, her usual grumbles having caused a few spicy remarks to fly before the diversion created by Doctor Jenkins.
‘From what I can see o’ her at this distance she looks a bonny young woman,’ Kate observed.
Tam, still dwelling on Todd’s remarks, rubbed his hands together with anticipatory fervour. ‘She can look at my private parts all she likes – she is a bonny one and no mistake.’
‘Ach, she’s too skinny,’ said Ranald in disgust, while Kate damped Tam’s ardour with a well-aimed swipe at his face with the soapy cloth she had been using to clean her windows.
‘Skinny or no’,’ nodded Kate, ‘it will be a change for us womenfolk to have a lady doctor to look to our ails. Lachlan is a bonny doctor, but there were times when I didny like showin’ him the kind o’ things I’d rather show a woman.’
‘That’s all very well but what about the rest o’ us?’ grumbled Jim Jim. ‘I have been havin’ a wee bitty bother wi’ my bladder this whily back but I’m damty sure I’ll no’ be showin’ it to that slip o’ a lassie.’
‘You will have no need to worry yourself for a whily yet,’ Elspeth imparted sourly, her manner most unsympathetic towards Jim Jim and his bladder ever since she had caught him emptying it behind a bush. Instead of showing embarrassment he had waved at her most offensively ‘and it wasny wi’ his hands’, she had stressed meaningfully. ‘Doctor Lachlan will no’ be giving up the practice right away. He will be showing the new doctor the way things are done here and they will be working together for quite a few months before she is on her own.’
Jim Jim breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Ach, that is indeed good news. I will get along to Lachlan’s wi’ an easy mind and see what he is going to do about it. I am getting to the stage where I want to stop at every bush I see.’
Song of Rhanna (The Rhanna series) Page 22