Beautiful Just!

by Lillian Beckwith

  The Bruachites were aghast. A ‘Wee Free’ minister reading a Sunday paper was such an unthinkably wicked thing to do they were as agog to hear the rest of Flora’s tale as they would have been to hear the final denouement in a detective story.

  ‘ “Well, Flora,” says he, an’ this is his story. “It somehow got posted along with some other letters I was postin’ at the same time an’ now has come this telegram today to say I’ve won first prize.” ’ No one spoke and Flora continued, ‘I could see he was in a right mess with the Church Assembly no doubt wantin’ him thrown out of the Church an’ his wife no doubt wantin’ him thrown into the sea but what I couldn’t see was how it had to do with me. Then he points out that not only have we the same surname, himself an’ me, but we have the same initial too. “You’re Flora an’ I’m Farquhar,” says he. “So Flora,” he begs me, “if you will say it was yourself won the competition an’ have your name go in the papers then you’re welcome to every penny the devil has tried to tempt me with.” ’

  ‘An’ you took it?’ asked Morag with faint disapproval.

  ‘I did indeed,’ replied Flora. ‘It was worth gettin’ acquainted with the devil for it to my way of thinkin’.’

  ‘But you had to leave your place through it?’ asked Murdoch.

  ‘Aye, indeed,’ replied Flora. ‘A Godly man like him couldn’t go on having a sinner like me that did competitions in Sunday newspapers livin’ under the same roof as himself now, could he? Not once my name got into the paper?’

  ‘An’ were you no sorry at all to leave?’

  ‘Not a bitty,’ asserted Flora. ‘I was kind of fancyin’ comin’ back to the croft anyway. Ach, the minister himself wasn’t so bad but his wife was such an old fright the poor man would hardly dare to look at a flower in his garden on the Sabbath. I’m tellin’ you without a word of a lie she was that mad with religion she used to go sniffin’ round the house in case I’d been wicked enough to bring in a bit of scented soap to wash myself with.’

  I found myself wondering why Flora should have chosen to work at a ‘Wee Free’ manse and had I not been aware of the old people’s indoctrination of their children with the idea that if they went away to be servants they must go either to the manse or to the laird’s house I would have suspected she had a masochistic streak in her.

  ‘In a way I’m after seein’ now why you’re so keen to get to this fancy dress dance,’ said Tearlaich. ‘But neither the minister nor his wife is goin’ to be seen anywhere near that, surely?’

  Flora let out a ripple of laughter. ‘No, what I’m hopin’ is there’ll be a photographer there from the paper so that maybe I’ll get my picture in it for the minister to see. I know the mannie that does the pictures,’ she added, ‘an’ I believe when I tell him what I want he’ll be well pleased.to do it for me.’

  ‘Why, what will you be dressin’ yourself up as, then?’ asked Erchy.

  Flora treated him to a brazen smile. ‘I’m goin’ to dress myself up as one of these nuns,’ she told him, ‘an’ I’m goin’ to be carryin’ a big bundle of Sunday papers under my arm.’ She stood up and while dusting some crumbs of scone from her skirt enjoyed the varying expressions of amusement, admiration and disapproval. ‘Think about what I’ve been sayin’ now an’ make up your minds in good time,’ she instructed them. ‘You’lI have a good time, I promise you that.’ She winked at them.

  ‘I can tell you right now,’ said Erchy. ‘I’m damty sure I will come so long as somebody promises to see me safely home again afterwards.’

  ‘Didn’t I tell you I’m hirin’ a bus,’ she reminded him.

  ‘Ach, no, but what I’m meanin’ by safe is nothin’ to do with the bus. See now,’ he explained, ‘when I’m at a dance I’m likely to take a good drink an’ it’s then the women get at me.’ The ‘women’ hooted with laughter.

  ‘I’ll promise to protect you from the women,’ Flora assured him.

  ‘Hell!’ parried Erchy ungratefully. ‘Who will be protectin’ me from you then?’

  ‘Away with you, man,’ Flora teased. ‘I’ve not worked for ministers all these years without learnin’ to keep myself to myself.’ She opened the door. ‘It’s a grand night,’ she called as she stepped out into the still golden twilight. ‘Oidche Mhath!’

  ‘Oidche Mhath!’ we called after her.

  I started to laugh. ‘Flora’s certainly given you all plenty to think about, hasn’t she?’ I said. ‘And this fancy dress dance sounds as if it might be a lot of fun.’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind goin’ myself,’ said Johnny. ‘That’s if Miss Peckwitt here will fix up somethin’ for me to wear.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ I promised.

  ‘An’ what about me?’ joked Murdoch. ‘Will you no find somethin’ for me to dress up as so that I can go?’ He wheezed with laughter.

  Erchy grunted. ‘You, you old bodach! Why if you’re thinkin’ of goin’ Miss Peckwitt will no be needin’ to find somethin’ for you to dress yourself up in. All you will need to do is put in your new teeths an’ go as a horse.’

  Urgent Ernest

  ‘Ach! I’m as tired as an old horse,’ declared Morag as I drew near. She had been collecting driftwood along the shore and the roped bundle lay beside her while she rested before carrying it up the brae. Nearby Hector and Erchy were painting and patching their boats in preparation for the coming season and since it was the spring holiday a troop of barefoot children skipped nimbly from rock to rock, pelting one another with crabs and limpet shells and brandishing stems of ‘staff’ from which every now and then they bit large chewy mouthfuls. Unlike town children who seem unable to enjoy themselves without the accompaniment of discordant yelling Bruach children were astonishingly quiet in their play. They teased as much, taunted, chaffed and goaded as much, as their town counterparts, yet their undulating Gaelic voices were no more intrusive than bird song. Even when missiles found their targets or when feet slipped on wet rocks their protests were muted; only small explosions of laughter occasionally broke the bounds of their restraint.

  I dropped my sack on the shingle beside Morag and sat down.

  ‘I’m thinkin’ what you have there makes a softer seat than driftwood,’ she observed, indicating my sack. I nodded. There had been several drums of kapok washed up on the shore and the men of the village had chopped open some of them so those of us who fancied making cushions or eiderdowns from the kapok could take along our sacks and fill them. Of course officially the drums were the property of the Receiver of Wrecks but Bruach had its own strict code of practice so far as flotsam and jetsam were concerned. Bodies and explosives were reported to the police; useful items were finder’s property while those of no use but likely to bring in salvage money were notified to the ‘Customs mannie’; the rest was left to come and go as it pleased. The kapok was about a mile away along the shore from Bruach but since a sack stuffed tight full made only a light burden the necessary journey to collect it was a pleasure rather than a chore. ‘Behag was after gettin’ herself some of it yesterday,’ Morag informed me.

  ‘I know,’ I admitted. ‘I met her there. I got a sackful yesterday too. And another one the day before,’ I added.

  ‘Whatever will you be wantin’ with all that?’ asked Morag. ‘I thought you were sayin’ you needed enough for a cushion or two just.’

  I smiled ruefully. It was true that I needed and had intended to get only enough kapok for a few cushions but life in Bruach was making me acquisitive: the constant frustrations one encountered when trying to obtain the things one needed at the time one needed them was responsible for my hoarding a variety of articles which I was unlikely to have any use for but since I hated to see anything going to waste whether it was a trawl bobbin or a tin of shaving cream my pile of treasures from the shore continued to mount steadily over the years until it threatened to take up as much space on my croft as did my henhouse. And now, here I was carrying home my third sack of kapok when already I had amassed many times the quantity needed to stuf
f a few cushions and since kapok requires to be stored in a dry place and the dry places in and around my home were already packed to capacity with far more vital supplies than cushion filling Morag’s question made me suspect, not for the first time, that perhaps my acquisitiveness was becoming something of an obsession.

  ‘Oh well,’ I said defensively, ‘it’s a grand day for beach-combing.’ It was indeed a grand day, not just for beach-combing but for sitting and staring and listening and chatting in the warm sunshine. The sky was veined with thin cloud like the grain in old wood; the sea was netted with silver; the tide rustled among the rocks, and a low seeking wind harried shreds of dry seaweed along the shingle.

  ‘You would think there must be plenty of fish out there,’ observed Morag, her eyes on a turmoil of gulls which was concentrated on a patch of sea about halfway between Bruach and the island of Rhuna. She turned and called to the men at their boats. ‘The gulls is findin’ fish, I doubt.’

  Erchy and Hector looked up and screening their eyes against the sun focussed their attention on the birds. ‘Aye, it’s sooyan, likely,’ Erchy called back. Glad of the flimsiest excuse to stop work Hector sprackled over to sit on the shingle beside us.

  ‘I think if some of these scientist fellows would watch the gulls an’ find out more about them they wouldn’t be needin’ to invent all these machines they have for findin’ the fish,’ said Morag. ‘They would need just to train the gulls to find it for them.’

  ‘Aye,’ agreed Hector. ‘Tse gulls would find tse fish all right but would folks want to eat tse sort of fish tse gulls found?’ He screwed his face into an expression of distaste. ‘I mind seein’ gulls eatin’ some mighty queer fish at times.’

  Erchy came over to join us. ‘I’ve not seen so much of you since you were back from your tour,’ he told Morag.

  ‘Indeed an’ that’s true,’ returned Morag. ‘I’m that tired since I was back I believe I could sleep on a plank on edge. That’s what my tour has done for me.’

  Morag had recently spent three weeks’ holiday visiting various relatives in and around Glasgow and having returned to plunge immediately into the spring work on the croft neither she nor anyone else had found much time for ceilidhing.

  ‘I’m hearin’ you enjoyed yourself, then,’ Erchy’s voice sounded almost accusing, justifiably perhaps since Morag was in the habit of disparaging not only Glasgow but most of its inhabitants.

  ‘I enjoyed myself fine but for the last week of it I was in Glasgow. I believe it was that took the strength out of me. It’s a gey fast city,’ she added disapprovingly.

  ‘It’s fast right enough,’ agreed Hector. ‘When I was tsere lookin’ for a boat I seen tse folks rushin’ at everytsin’ like hens to a feedin’ bowl; tsen as soon as tsey were in tsey were wantin’ out an’ pushin’ one another tse same as sheep through a gap when tsey has a dog at tsem. I used to stand an’ watch tsem just tryin’ to make sense of it all.’

  ‘Aye well,’ rejoined Erchy, ‘there’s one thing nobody will ever see you do an’ that’s rush.’

  Hector smiled blandly. ‘No indeed,’ he replied. ‘Why would I rush when tsere’s plenty to do tsat for me?’

  ‘An’ the drinkin’!’ Morag resumed, cutting short their chaff. ‘The drinkin’ was terrible just! I’ve never seen the like.’ I slid a glance at Erchy who, given the opportunity, could himself give an impressive drinking performance but he affected not to notice and continued staring at the feeding gulls. ‘An’ not just the men,’ Morag went on, her tone growing more sanctimonious. ‘I was invited to take tea with a swanky friend of Ina’s at three in the afternoon an’ when we got there didn’t the woman bring out a bottle of whisky an’ pour out a dram for each of us?’ She turned to me. ‘Whisky!’ she repeated. ‘For a woman, at three o’clock in the afternoon. Can you believe that now?’

  I hoped my expression was suitably scandalized. ‘Did you refuse it?’ I asked.

  ‘Indeed I did not then, seein’ it was set out for me I couldn’t very well not drink it for fear of offendin’ the woman,’ she countered virtuously.

  ‘Whereabouts did you go when you were away then?’ Erchy asked.

  ‘All kinds of places,’ said Morag. ‘We went to what they called a ceilidh but the singin’ was on the stage mostly.’

  ‘Were they good singers?’ asked Hector.

  ‘Oh, right enough some of them were good,’ she conceded with some reluctance. ‘But I believe I’ve heard better here in Bruach.’ Morag secretly believed that Bruach was bursting with every sort of skill and talent. She paused. ‘An’ they had a fiddler there on the stage that was so long sharpenin’ his strings before he would start to play I was thinkin’ he’d wear through them first.’

  We were interrupted by one of the children who came skipping over the shingle calling and beckoning. ‘Are you wantin’ to see a killer?’ he asked, looking directly at me. ‘He’s right inshore there.’ I leapt up and clambering on to a rock was in time to see the bulk of a rounded body and a long sword-like fin disappearing beneath the water but though I continued watching for some minutes the whale did not break surface again and I returned to my companions.

  Accustomed to such sights they had not bothered to stir from where they sat. ‘It was huge!’ I told them excitedly. ‘Honestly, I’d say the fin was six foot high above the water.’

  ‘Aye.’ Erchy’s tone was indulgent. ‘It would be a bull likely.’

  I continued to gaze fascinatedly at the sea. ‘What strange creatures there could be down there without our ever having seen them,’ I mused.

  ‘Maybe a mermaid or two,’ suggested Erchy with a faint smile.

  ‘If there was mermaids there surely Hector here wouldn’t be for stayin’ on the shore,’ said Morag.

  ‘No, nor me,’ Erchy was quick to add. ‘I would be out there with a net soon enough.’

  ‘And what would you do supposing you caught a mermaid?’ I asked.

  ‘I wouldn’t be tellin’ you,’ he replied flippantly.

  ‘No, seriously,’ I persisted. ‘Supposing one day you did actually catch a mermaid in the net and haul it aboard your boat what would you do with it?’ Erchy looked self-conscious.

  ‘We’d make our fortunes out of it, tsat’s what we’d do wis it,’ said Hector. ‘We’d have all tse papers an’ tse fillums payin’ us good money just to get a look at it.’

  Erchy drew up his knees and hugged them. His expression had become thoughtful. ‘No, I would not then,’ he said. ‘If I was to get a mermaid in the net then I would put her back in the sea again.’

  ‘Never!’ protested Morag.

  ‘Aye,’ insisted Erchy.

  ‘You would surely try an’ get hold of a camera an’ take a picture of her first?’ challenged Morag.

  ‘I don’t believe I would do even that,’ asserted Erchy.

  We all looked at him but he ignored us and continued to stare reflectively at the sea.

  ‘Why?’ I asked him.

  ‘Ach, mermaids is mermaids an’ people is people,’ he said evasively but I repeated my question. He shifted uneasily. ‘The way I see it then is if I was to get a mermaid in the net I’m damty sure she would be scared enough without a lot of strangers after excitin’ themselves over her. An’ if the papers an’ the fillums got to know of it she would get not a moment’s peace from then till the day she died.’

  ‘But, man, it is you would get tse money,’ expostulated Hector. ‘You would be a millionaire likely.’

  ‘I wouldn’t care about that,’ said Erchy. ‘I wouldn’t even take a camera to her unless I could make the picture without anyone else seein’ it.’

  ‘You would make plenty of money from a picture of her just,’ Morag assured him.

  ‘Aye, an’ wouldn’t a picture of her bring every boat in the country here with nets searchin’ for her?’ Erchy demanded. ‘No,’ he repeated, ‘the day I catch a mermaid will be the day I throw a fortune back into the sea an’ there’s no one but myself will be the wiser
.’

  ‘The Dear help you then,’ murmured Morag. I slanted her a wry smile and recalling how these same Highlanders had once scorned the fortune offered by the English for the capture of Bonnie Prince Charlie I suspected that faced with the problem her reaction would be the same as Erchy’s.

  It was decidedly pleasant sitting and chatting in the sunshine but I had much to do at home so picking up my sack I made a move to go. Morag struggled to her feet, intimating that she too must be on her way. I had gone only a few paces when Erchy called after me. ‘You must have more than enough of that stuff!’ He nodded at my sack. I confessed I had. ‘I don’t know why you bother with it at all then when there’s plenty other things you could be gatherin’ on the shore an’ maybe earnin’ yourself good money doin’ it,’ he informed me.

  ‘What sort of things?’ I asked sceptically. From time to time I had heard stories of lucrative finds on the shore some of which stories I suspected to be wildly exaggerated but I had never been lucky enough to come across anything that could be considered of even scant market value.