Stranger on Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  There was indeed a great stir of excitement at the pier. First Otto Klebb had arrived in the minister’s motor car. Mark drew Thunder to a squealing halt and felt quite gratified that the engine kept ticking over after he had removed his foot from the accelerator.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and help?’ he enquired of his passenger, but Otto shook his head and gave a wry little smile.

  ‘You are very kind to ask but the village stalwarts were very keen to offer their services when they heard that I was expecting an important shipment to come off the boat. It was good of you to bring me down in your car, I could easily have walked.’

  Mark threw back his dark head and laughed. ‘You’re too polite, Otto. After a run in poor old Thunder most people tell me they wished to God they had walked! It is an experience that takes a bit o’ getting used to but never mind, you’re here, and I will bid you good day and good luck getting Tam and the others back up to your house.’

  ‘But, it is they who are taking me back to the house to help me unload the lorry.’

  Mark grinned. ‘It is well seeing you’re new here, Otto, but you’ll learn, you’ll have to if you’re to survive living on Rhanna.’

  With a cheery wave he revved up and rattled away, leaving Otto to make his way down to the crowd that had gathered on the pier to watch proceedings. On the way Otto passed Rachel. Briefly their eyes met and held; awareness sprang between them. It was her first encounter with the man whose name had touched many pairs of lips since his arrival. Those black, intense eyes of his were compelling in their power. Her heart beat a little faster. So, this was ‘The Stranger’, this big bear of a man with his distinguished demeanour that suggested great strength of character and a magnetic personality. He gave the distinct impression of one who was used to having his commands obeyed and from all she had heard of him he had already gained a reputation on that score by sending everyone scurrying to obey his will ‘wi’ just the snap o’ a finger’.

  Executing a polite little bow he dismissed himself and she watched him walk away, something telling her that her stay on Rhanna was to be one that she wouldn’t forget in a hurry. The thought brought that strange little shiver to her spine again and she couldn’t tell if it was one of apprehension – or anticipation.

  The sight of the enormous crate swinging on the end of the crane had brought forth much speculation from the onlookers.

  ‘It could be a bed,’ hazarded Graeme Donald, who had abandoned his net-mending in favour of the latest diversion. ‘Folk can be very queer about beds and like to sleep on their own instead o’ one that dozens o’ people might have used.’

  Fingal McLeod agreed thoughtfully. ‘Ay, people do some terrible things in bed. I wouldny like to sleep on one that wasny my own in case somebody else had done worse things on it than I had done myself.’

  ‘A bed that size!’ Todd the Shod expostulated. ‘No, no, it canny be a bed – unless Mr Klebb is planning to ship over an elephant to sleep on it.’

  ‘Here, maybe he is Count Dracula in disguise,’ suggested Ranald, who, as well as being a keen reader of mystery and adventure stories was also a devotee of horror films and went to see as many as he could when he had reason to visit the mainland. ‘I saw a picture once where Dracula shipped himself over the sea in a coffin which was stored in the hold. His henchman kept a tight watch on him and made sure his master was always back in his coffin before sun-up.’

  Ranald’s eyes gleamed. ‘It was terrible just, by the time the boat touched dry land he had drunk gallons o’ blood. Half the folk were dead or dyin’ and a whole new batch o’ vampires were busy sharpening their fangs ready to do business the minute they went ashore.’

  ‘Ach, you and your horror stories!’ Captain Mac said scathingly. ‘How can Mr Klebb be a vampire when he walks the daytime hours the same as the rest o’ us . . .?’

  The arrival of Otto on the scene effectively quelled further comment. Tam too arrived, looking puffed and important, for had not the ‘stranger mannie’ more or less implied that he was to direct proceedings that day? Tam was full of himself, though he was also rather peeved that he hadn’t been told just what it was that was arriving on the boat.

  ‘All in good time, Herr Tam,’ was all Otto would say, and Tam would have argued further if he hadn’t been so tickled at being referred to as ‘Herr Tam’, which to his ears sounded very much like an honorary title.

  Aaron was leaning against Ranald’s boatshed while he watched proceedings from a safe distance. Aaron had always watched anything of an energetic nature from a safe distance ever since he had been called to help with a flitting which he claimed had racked his back so badly it was a wonder he hadn’t landed up an invalid for the rest of his days. Not that that would have worried him greatly. Mo, his brother, had spent his latter years being pushed around in a huge baby carriage, his excuse being that his legs were incapable of carrying him, and there might have been some truth in that since he was ‘legless wi’ the drink’ half the time and the other half he passed sleeping off his excesses.

  It was a blue, blue afternoon; the sea was aquamarine, the sky azure, and the two met and married in a tranquil celebration of coming spring. Thus thought Aaron in his rather poetic way. He liked poetry, did Aaron, he liked to read it and listen to it and sometimes he enjoyed making up little verses when he felt the inclination to do so.

  He liked Rhanna; it was good to be back on the island with all the long days of summer ahead.

  His glance fell on Rachel who was on the fringe of the crowd looking on, an onlooker like himself, never quite belonging but seeing more and hearing more because of it. Creative people like him and her were like that, they had to stand back in order to see everything from a wider angle than mere ordinary mortals. He was glad that Mo had given her his violin, Aaron had never grudged her that though he knew for a fact that a few of the others had, in particular, Paddy, whose resentment over the affair had been simmering for years.

  Aaron’s languid gaze shifted to Paddy who was sitting on a rock idly playing with pebbles. Aaron sighed, he hoped there wouldn’t be any trouble with Paddy that summer. Paddy somehow always managed to make trouble and the other travellers were kept on their mettle whenever it looked as if something was brewing in his mind.

  Ranald was backing the lorry as far down to the landing pier as he dared. There was much loud shouting and instructions. The big foreign-looking man was in the midst of it all, giving out orders which everyone seemed only too eager to obey.

  Feeling safe amidst all the diversions, with everyone’s attention centred on loading the crate on to the lorry, Aaron slunk to the back of Ranald’s boatshed to relieve himself against the wall.

  ‘My, my, would you look at that now,’ observed Hector the Boat who was diligently if messily slapping tar on the upturned bottom of a big clinker dinghy. ‘That shed will be floatin’ away if he’s no careful and one o’ they days its founds will be that rotten it will come crashin’ down about Ranald’s ears. I’m surprised it’s lasted so long, for if it’s no’ dogs peein’ against it, it’s some dirty old bugger who hasny the decency to use the bushes like every other body.’

  ‘Ay, ay, terrible just,’ agreed Jim Jim, who was bothered with a weak bladder and who had, on countless occasions, been one of the ‘dirty old buggers’ as well as watering just about every bush and tree this side of the island.

  Aaron was barely halfway through his ablutions when he was joined by two small boys who, without preliminary, solemnly undid their trousers to add their contributions to the wall.

  The large visitor lady, not in the least interested in the arrival of the crate but totally fascinated by the tinkers despite having been taken in by them, had, after a minute or two of indecision, made up her mind to follow Aaron to see what he was about.

  When she saw the trio of masculine figures rowed against the wall, letting off steam as it were, her face was a picture of shocked surprise.

  ‘Really!’ she exclaimed forci
bly. ‘How utterly disgusting! There are places for that sort of thing, but then I expect people like you must be used to behaving like animals!’

  Aaron, his back bristling with embarrassment, remained rigidly facing the wall, but his young confederates had no such reservations. With mischievous grins splitting their merry faces they turned round to vigorously shake their small appendages at the aghast lady.

  Her face crimson with outrage, she made a hasty exit from the scene much to the boys’ disappointment as they had been hoping to squeeze some more fun from the incident.

  Jim Jim and Hector roared with laughter. ‘Tis a miracle she saw them at all for all the stoor and the steam,’ Hector said in delight.

  ‘Ay,’ Jim Jim agreed, ‘and if the poor wifie but knew it, she herself might be forced to behave like the animals when she realizes there is no proper water hole at the pier or anywhere else for that matter. The council lads on the mainland are in no hurry to build a wee hoosie and it might be years before they make up their minds.’

  Hector grinned. ‘And by that time, Ranald’s shed and all who sail in her might just break from her moorings and slip into the sea leaving no survivors.’

  Chapter Seven

  Otto was beginning to realize what Mark had meant when he wished him luck getting home. Just when it seemed the lorry was at last about to move off, Ranald glanced in his wing mirror and what he saw there made him jump yelling from the cab to chase after Aaron who, disliking trouble as much as he disliked work, took to his heels and went pelting energetically in the direction of Glen Fallan.

  ‘Come back!’ Ranald roared, standing in the middle of the road and shaking his fist at the disappearing Aaron. ‘I know what you were up to! You were fouling my premises again. If I catch you at it once more I’ll have the law on you, that I will!’

  Since the law was safely ensconced several miles over the ocean in Stornoway, Aaron knew well enough that it was an empty threat, even so he had had experience of Ranald McTavish’s temper and he kept on running till he had put a good half-mile between himself and the village. Feeling very hard done by he sunk himself on to a heathery knoll, there to regain his breath and wait for the rest of his band to catch up with him.

  ‘My good man, you have my sympathies,’ the large lady visitor threw at Ranald as she passed by. ‘Why these people can’t use the public conveniences like everyone else is beyond me but as I have already said, they have no shame or any sense of self-respect at all.’

  ‘Public conveniences?’ Ranald stared at her in surprise then glanced behind him as if to ascertain for himself that a public toilet hadn’t miraculously sprung up on the pier. ‘Towrists – mad – the lot o’ them,’ he muttered, before going back to the lorry to vigorously kick it into life once more.

  Four men were perched on the back of the lorry, one more was in the cab beside Ranald and Otto. Tigh na Cladach was reached without further interruption; at the gate two more of the village men were waiting to help with the unloading and Otto breathed a sigh of relief when at last the crate was sitting at the gate ready to be unpacked.

  Armed with jemmies and hammers, the men set to with a will, for it could be safely said that each and every one of them was agog to see what would finally be revealed. The metal bands that held the wood fell away, then the wooden slats themselves were removed and finally, with many warnings from Otto ringing in their ears, the men peeled away layers of packing and padding.

  At last, at last, it stood there in all its naked glory, a Bechstein baby grand piano, its rich dark wood gleaming in the sun.

  ‘My, my, she is beautiful just.’ Reverently Tam removed his cap, as if he was in the presence of some grand lady.

  ‘Ay, a fine piece o’ workmanship indeed,’ added Ranald, who had, all of his days, loved working with wood and enjoyed the challenge of restoring battered sea vessels to something of their former glory.

  Wullie looked at the piano then at the house. ‘She’ll no’ go in there,’ he stated with conviction. ‘Yon doors are narrow and there’s that funny wee bit turn as you go from the lobby ben the room.’

  ‘She will go in.’ Otto was already, and quite unconsciously, adopting the islanders’ habit of bestowing male and female genders on all sorts of inanimate objects. ‘Myself, I have measured and made certain before sending for my piano. It is a big enough house, the doors are good and wide: up on her end in a very undignified fashion, my Becky will go in. One inch, two inches at a time, you will carry her and I will be here guiding you every footstep of the journey. Wullie, will you be so good as to hold her here and you, Herr Tam, be so kind as to come to this end. Gently, gently now, Becky is very precious to me and I will not like it if there is one single scratch on her when finally she is settled.’

  ‘Herr Tam’, beaming from ear to ear at being singled out as the leader, went willingly to do as he was bid but the smiles soon left him during the marathon task of getting the piano through the narrow gate and up the path to the house.

  Vienna came out to sit on the step and daintily wash her white bib before settling back to view proceedings in a very statuesque manner.

  Bit by bit, little by little, the procession made its slow and painful way up to the house. The men sweated and puffed, they cursed and they groaned and all the while Otto hovered, making sure that not one single mark broke the perfect skin of his beloved baby.

  At one point he even took out his hanky to flick away a speck of dust and accidentally gave ‘Herr Tam’s’ nose a wipe in the process.

  After the door had been negotiated with great difficulty and the men had paused to gulp in air, Wullie was rash enough to lean his arms on ‘Becky’ and brought upon himself a sharp rebuke from her owner.

  Otto had already enlisted the services of Mark and Megan to help him clear a space over by the back window of the sitting room which looked out to the sea and the sands and the great bastion of Burg rising sheer out of the ocean, a view which never ceased to enchant the new resident of Tigh na Cladach.

  On this spot Becky at last came to rest and with one accord the men gave vent to rasping gasps of relief now that the ordeal was over.

  Vienna, her tail waving in the air, came over to sniff and examine the latest addition to the household. Otto threw her an indulgent smile, his dark eyes snapping as if at some private joke.

  ‘The little cat, she is thirsty,’ he told the men, ‘and you, you must also be ready for something to drink.’

  Again Tam removed his cap, this time to scratch the sweaty red band it had left on his forehead. ‘That is indeed kind o’ you, Mr Klebb,’ he intoned with admirable restraint since, at that moment, he could have drunk a bucket of beer to himself and still have come back for more.

  ‘Very well, here you wait; Vienna shall have her milk and you, gentlemen, I have the very thing to quench your thirst.’

  He went out of the room with his cat at his heels. Todd looked at the red faces of his cronies with gleaming eyes. ‘Ach now, is he no’ learning fast, our stranger mannie? Wait you! He might have brought a crate o’ thon strong spirits they drink in his country. You mind Anton had some sent over from Germany last New Year and everyone that had a taste o’ it were falling about the island for days afterwards. Saps I think was the name he put upon it and, by jingo!, it fairly sapped the good out o’ my liver. For a whole week I couldny touch the meat Mollie put on the table before me and she was that angry she near brained me wi’ my plate and called me an ungrateful bodach but I was so ill I wouldny have cared if I never saw food again.’

  ‘Schnapps that would be,’ Graeme Donald corrected Todd. ‘I mind o’ it fine because wee Lorna McKenzie said her father was over playing a game at Anton’s house and it sounded like the one she played with cards at her granny’s.’

  At that moment Otto came back, bearing in one hand a kettle full of hot water, in the other a tray set with eight mugs, which he placed on the coffee table near the fire. ‘Now, gentlemen, if you will just come over here and make yourselves comfort
able.’

  Mystified, the men went to array themselves round the table, as they did so eyeing one another with raised brows and some discomfiture.

  From his pocket Otto extracted four Oxo cubes. Solemnly, and with more than a little ceremony, he split them with a sharp knife and then placed half of a cube into each of the surrounding mugs. Making great play with the kettle, he held it high so that the water gushed into the cups to produce a weak brown concoction topped by frothy foam. Picking up a spoon, he proceeded to stir the beverage vigorously so that little circles of bubbles swirled around merrily.

  The men swallowed hard, the expression on each face was one of misery and disappointment.

  ‘Ay, ay now, that is indeed kind o’ you,’ Tam, electing himself as spokesman, muttered the words faintly while he licked his dry lips, not daring to look at the others for fear of what he would see on their faces. ‘An Oxo cube is just the job on a thirsty day like this.’

  ‘Ay, and half an Oxo cube is even better,’ Ranald mouthed sarcastically, a wonder in him that anybody else could surpass himself for the meanness that he preferred to call thrift.

  ‘Ach well, I’ll get away home for a drink o’ plain water.’ Todd shuffled to the door. ‘It will slake my thirst better than the salty stuff you have there in the cups.’

  Todd must certainly have been upset as never, never had he been known to drink water which he said gave him the belly-ache. The others followed him, their footsteps as heavy as lead, the conviction growing in their hearts that ‘furriners’ were indeed difficult to understand with all their strange habits and customs.

  An Oxo cube might be fine in Austria but on Rhanna it was unthinkable – nay, unheard of – for anyone to offer the likes to thirsty, hardworking men.

  Otto looked downhearted though a smile quirked one corner of his generous mouth. ‘So, you go, you do not wait for my next trick – and I had truly believed that I could persuade you to stay and drink some of this.’