‘I will buy you an umbrella for a wedding present,’ he offered.
‘No, no, you shall not!’ she forbade him. Surely he realised how useless an umbrella would be on a windswept Island? But he was already selecting an umbrella and paying the assistant.
‘I have not yet bought you a wedding present Bheinn Ruari MacDonald,’ he bent to speak into her ear because of the street noises and the chattering voices of shoppers around them. She felt her cheeks grow warm but made no comment. Through her wet gloves she twisted the gold ring on her finger. Bheinn Ruari MacDonald! She liked the sound. The wife of Ruari MacDonald. No longer would she need to describe herself as ‘Kirsty MacLennan, spinster’. The knowledge seeping into her mind made her oblivious of the rain seeping through her clothes until her new husband said, ‘Will you not put up your umbrella?’
‘It is too wild to risk that,’ she objected. ‘I will put on my macintosh.’ He held the umbrella while she struggled with her macintosh, and when he handed it back to her their eyes met for an instant and they exchanged a wisp of a smile.
‘You would like to go into a teashop and have a wee strupak?’ he coaxed, but she would not.
‘We must not risk being seen together,’ she reminded him. He nodded. The weather was worsening rapidly and she went on, ‘I’m thinking we would be wise to go back to ISLAY.’
‘Not to a hotel?’ Her startled expression made him add, ‘for a meal just.’
‘The weather could be even coarser in a couple of hours,’ she warned him.
‘Very well,’ he accepted. ‘We will go back to ISLAY.’
And that is how the man and the woman came to be walking in their silent separate-togetherness through the wind and the rain and the sleet, the woman with a new gold ring on her finger, her only wedding present – the umbrella – still tightly furled under her arm and her mind still wondering if there were many women who had received – and accepted – such a strange proposal and had experienced such a singular wedding day.
Chapter Six
The morning after her wedding Kirsty rose at her usual time and went down to the kitchen to begin her morning chores. She was making the breakfast porridge when the kitchen door opened and the errant Meggy appeared.
‘Here I am!’ Meggy announced and then straightaway went on to ask, ‘Was Her Ladyship in a terrible dander when I didn’t turn up yesterday?’ Her tone was in no way contrite.
Kirsty looked at her searchingly. ‘She was certainly not very pleased,’ she said. ‘But what happened to stop you coming? Are you all right? I was worried about you, fearing you’d had an accident of something.’
‘Oh, I’m all right,’ Meggy assured her. ‘But I had to stay at home because of this boil on my dad’s bum. No, honest!’ she continued, aware of Kirsty’s raised eyebrows. ‘You remember I was telling you about it the day before yesterday? Well, it was swelling so big he had to have the nurse come twice a day to treat it, and he couldn’t go to work because she said he must lie in bed until it burst. Then yesterday morning just as Mam was setting off for her job at the laundry he gave a great yell to say the thing was near bursting and he must have the nurse come straight away to see it. Well Mam always managed to be at home when the nurse came before but she said she daren’t take any more time off for fear she’d get the sack. She said right enough she’d call and tell the nurse on her way to the laundry but that I’d have to stay home because she wasn’t going to have the nurse treating her man’s bum when he’d be in the house by himself.’ She studied Kirsty’s expression. ‘Well, I did have to stay, didn’t I?’ she pleaded.
‘I suppose you did under the circumstances,’ Kirsty allowed with a grin. ‘But I’m just surprised he needed the nurse at all. I’d have thought your mother could have done all that was necessary. I know a boil is a nasty, painful thing but it’s not very serious at all.’
‘It is when it’s on a man’s backside,’ argued Meggy. ‘And it was a terrible big one,’ she enthused. ‘Mam was feared it might disable him or something. Anyway Mam’s not much good when it comes to first aid. She can’t stand the sight of blood and she’d have been more like to faint right off if she’d tried to do anything with it – even supposing he’d have let her go near it. He’s a right coward himself sometimes.’ Meggy tied on her apron and filled the cutlery basket ready to take through into the dining room. She paused by the door. ‘Was the old scarecrow really blowing steam about me not coming in yesterday?’ she pressed.
‘Of course she was,’ Kirsty told her. ‘You wouldn’t expect her to be anything else would you? She’ll probably give you a row and threaten the sack but we managed quite well without you so she doesn’t really have much to grumble about.’
Meggy tossed her head. ‘I’m well used to her giving me a row,’ she said.
‘Actually the worst upset was because your not being here stopped them from going to a film they’d planned to go and see.’
‘How would that stop them?’ Meggy queried, a puzzled frown creasing her brow.
‘You weren’t here, were you, to see to the hot water bottles and the late teas.’
‘But you were here, surely?’
‘Oh, indeed I was but it was my evening off, remember.’
‘Yes, I know it was but you hardly ever take your evening off and you wouldn’t have minded doing those two little things if they’d asked you? I mean, you’ve never minded before.’
‘That’s just the point,’ Kirsty enlightened her. ‘I wasn’t asked last night, I was just told to do it so I turned thrawn and insisted on having the whole evening off. Isabel herself had to stay and see to the guests.’
Meggy’s mouth dropped open with shock. ‘You never did!’ she ejaculated, plonking the cutlery basket down on the table as if she needed all her strength to take in Kirsty’s disclosure.
‘I did indeed,’ Kirsty affirmed. ‘I just felt I’d had enough of the pair of them taking it for granted that I’d be willing to give up my free time whenever they wanted to go off and enjoy themselves. Never once have they spoken a word of thanks to me so I decided it was high time they were taught a lesson.’ She became aware that simply telling Meggy what she’d done had given her a small feeling of elation. She almost wished she could divulge the rest of the news.
Meggy’s eyes glinted with excitement. ‘Hurrah!’ she rejoiced. ‘I never would have thought you had it in you.’ She was still chuckling as she picked up the cutlery basket and tripped off into the dining room.
A moment or two later Mac, clad in his working clothes, poked his head around the door of the kitchen. ‘Has that wench come into work this morning?’ he demanded in a voice that was roughened by smoker’s croak.
‘She’s in the dining room,’ Kirsty told him.
‘Isa’s got a headache,’ he announced. ‘She’s staying in bed for a whiley till she feels better. See that wench doesn’t go banging about upstairs and upsetting her.’ Kirsty threw him a distasteful glance and let his remarks pass without comment. Treating her to a baleful glare he banged the kitchen door shut and hurried out to the backyard gate.
When Meggy came back into the kitchen she asked, ‘Was that the Hooligan I heard you talking to a minute ago?’ Meggy invariably referred to Mac as the Hooligan.
‘It was indeed,’ Kirsty admitted flippantly. ‘He came to say Isabel’s got one of her headaches and intends to lie abed this morning. He says we’re to be careful not to make a noise when we go upstairs so we shan’t disturb her.’
‘Oh dear,’ sniggered Meggy. ‘Was the poor thing overdoing the whisky last night and now thinks she’s hearing elephants plodding around the bedroom? Likely it was the whisky that gave her the headache and she’ll be taking more to cure it. My, but have you ever seen the number of bottles she hides under her bed?’ Kirsty nodded. ‘She’ll drink herself daft,’ declared Meggy with great satisfaction.
‘More than likely,’ agreed Kirsty.
When Isabel eventually appeared Kirsty and Meggy were having their regular
morning break for a cup of tea. She scowled at Meggy. ‘Where did you get to yesterday I’d like to know?’ she asked sharply as she poured a cup of tea from the pot.
‘I stayed at home to look after my dad,’ retorted Meggy. ‘Kirsty says you managed okay without me.’
‘You should have let me know,’ carped Isabel.
‘I couldn’t since you haven’t got a telephone and my brother would have been late for school if I’d sent him with a note.’
Kirsty thought Meggy sounded unusually defiant.
‘And what’s the matter with your dad that your mother couldn’t look after him?’ Isabel demanded to know, scepticism already edging her tone.
‘My dad’s in bed and my mother had to go to her job at the laundry,’ said Meggy.
‘And your mother’s job at the laundry is so much more important than your job here?’ Isabel asked cuttingly.
‘Oh, yes,’ Meggy retorted. ‘She gets much better pay than I get here, and she gets more time off.’
Kirsty was baffled by the girl’s brazen manner. She’d always been under the impression that what Meggy earned at ISLAY was desperately needed to supplement the family income, but now she appeared to be oblivious of the risk of offending her employer and losing her job. Kirsty grew tense as she waited for Isabel’s reaction.
‘That’s enough of your cheek,’ Isabel exploded. ‘You can take a week’s notice as from today. I can easily find someone to do what little work you do here – and do it better.’
A flash of consternation drove Kirsty to protest, ‘Oh, Isabel! Do think again. Meggy’s a good worker and I …’ she curbed her tongue only just in time to stop herself from revealing that she herself would be leaving ISLAY the following Tuesday morning. Guilt attached itself to her consternation. She really should have given Isabel fair notice to look for another cook, she reproved herself but in the next instant Isabel’s reply dislodged all traces of guilt.
‘As for you, you can just shut your mouth and keep it shut so long as you’re under my roof or you’ll get the same treatment,’ she raged. She emptied the dregs of her tea into the sink and put down her cup and saucer with such clumsy haste that Kirsty wondered they didn’t shatter.
‘You couldn’t do without her even if you can do without me,’ Meggy challenged as Isabel strode out of the kitchen and when there was no response she ran to the kitchen door and shouted upstairs, ‘You’d be a fool to try!’
‘Meggy!’ Kirsty admonished her. ‘For goodness sake don’t make things worse for yourself. Jobs aren’t all that easy to find.’
‘I’ve got another job already,’ Meggy boasted. ‘I was only waiting until Monday to give her my notice.’
‘But if you upset her even more she might not give you a reference,’ Kirsty pointed out.
‘My Mam got me a job at the same place as herself so I don’t need a reference.’
‘You’re going to work at the laundry?’ Kirsty asked her. ‘Will you like that?’
‘Not much I daresay but don’t like my job here, so what? I’ll miss your good cooking though,’ Meggy added. ‘The wages are better but you don’t even get a cup of tea at the laundry, Mam says. All the same I’m going from here as soon as I get my wages.’
‘When are your wages due to you?’
‘Tomorrow, the end of the month,’ Meggy gloated. ‘And once I’ve got them in my pocket she won’t see me again in this place.’
‘You’re planning to leave tomorrow?’ There was a note of panic in Kirsty’s voice.
‘I’m going the minute I get my wages, notice or no notice,’ asserted Meggy. ‘You won’t split on me, will you?’ Seeing Kirsty’s hurt expression she added repentantly, ‘No, of course you won’t – I’m daft to ask.’
The ringing of the Smoking-Room bell sent Meggy hurrying from the kitchen and, left to herself for a moment, Kirsty had time to think of Isabel’s predicament when, on Monday morning, she would discover she had neither a maid nor a cook-housekeeper. Meggy, Kirsty thought would be easy enough to replace. There were plenty of young girls who would be glad to get a job which also included a good dinner every day, but finding a new cook might taker longer. Or had Isabel already someone in mind she asked herself. Could that be the reason for her increasing hostility? She shrugged the query from her mind. She would soon get used to the fact that it no longer mattered.
When Meggy returned to the kitchen she said, ‘I think you were right about that Mr MacDonald leaving early next week because he’s just brought in two portmanteaux and taken them up to his room. I reckon he must have been doing a fair bit of shopping while he’s been here.’ She added after a moment’s thought, ‘I suppose he’d need to wouldn’t he?’
‘They have only the bundles the tinkers bring around once or twice a year to choose from otherwise. Either that or buying from the catalogues,’ Kirsty confirmed.
Meggy wrinkled her nose. ‘I wouldn’t fancy buying stuff from tinkers’ bundles,’ she said.
‘Oh, but they have quite nice stuff very often. Mind you, it’s carried from house to house and village to village for so long it can be quite shop-soiled before you get a look at it. But my Granny always bought her nighties and semmits from the tinkers and my Uncle Donny’s long underpants and my knickers. Folks looked forward to the coming of the tinkers. They were a sure sign that spring was coming. Every crofthouse welcomed them and every wife bought something from them, whether it was a new kettle or a new pair of breeks. It tempted them to buy when they could get a look at the things before they bought them. Much better than just seeing illustrations or reading descriptions in dull catalogues. And you see Meggy, the tinkers brought not only their bundles full of goods but tongues full of news and gossip from the other places they’d visited on their travels, so folks found them sort of refreshing.’ ‘I could never abide to live on an Island where there were no shops, could you? I know you did when you were young but you wouldn’t want to go back now you’ve got so used to living in the city, would you?’ Meggy enquired.
‘I sometimes wonder,’ Kirsty temporised, again suppressing a near-compulsive desire to acquaint Meggy with her own plans.
On the Saturday after the evening meal had been cleared away and the kitchen tidied, Isabel came into the kitchen and put Meggy’s due pay on the table. ‘I’ve a good mind to keep this back until you’ve worked your week’s notice,’ she said grudgingly to Meggy. ‘But see and don’t you be late in the morning to serve the breakfast or I’ll not reconsider and you’ll get no wages for the week.’
Meggy looked at Kirsty and gave her a cocky smile from behind her hand. She made no mention to Isabel of her impending desertion. Evidently Meggy’s mind was made up. With her wages safely in her pocket she was simply going to walk out of ISLAY and never come back. She shed a few tears when she took her leave of Kirsty that night but otherwise appeared as happy as a lark at finishing her job at ISLAY. Kirsty would have liked to think that when Tuesday morning came she herself would be able to leave ISLAY with a light heart.
On her way up to her bedroom that night Kirsty tapped lightly on the door of her new husband’s bedroom. They had not had a chance to be alone nor even to speak to each other for more than a few snatched moments since they’d returned to ISLAY on their wedding day, and those few moments had been mostly hamstrung by embarrassment, but Meggy’s reference to the two portmanteaux gave her the courage to seek a few words with Ruari now. The door opened and he shyly invited her into his room to inspect the portmanteaux and when she’d smiled her approval he carried one of them up the short flight of stairs to her attic room.
‘I have made the last of the arrangements,’ he told her in an undertone. ‘The driver of the taxi has said he will surely be here by ten o’clock on Tuesday morning.’
‘A taxi?’ She was surprised at his extravagance but did not question it.
‘Indeed,’ he confirmed. ‘You can be ready by that hour? It will cost more to keep him waiting on us,’ he added shrewdly.
‘I shal
l be ready. Even more than ready,’ she promised him and after a whispered, ‘Oidhche Mhath!’ a brief handclasp and an equally brief moment of eye contact, he turned and went back down the stairs.
As soon as the door had closed behind him she began to pack her clothes into the portmanteau along with the few cherished possessions she wished not to leave behind: her bible which had been give to her by the minister’s wife; an old sepia photograph of a troop of gloomy looking uniformed soldiers captioned The Wet Review, which her Granny had bade her treasure because one of the soldiers had been a relative of hers; a purple glass netfloat which her Uncle Donny had given her and a lump of wood which had been either carved or moulded by the sea into a shape that was curiously like a kneeling man bearing a heavy burden on his back. She herself had found the figure washed up on the shore but her Granny had told her it might be a ‘wicked idol’ that would bring bad luck and had wanted her to throw it back in the sea. Unaccountably she’d kept it, and by the time she’d left for the city the figure had acquired an air of permanency so she’d taken it with her wherever she went.
Tracking around the room, her eye lit on the small wireless set which Mrs Ross had given her and which had been her main source of relaxation. The earphones lay neatly beside it. With a slight catch of her breath she stared at it. Would Westisle be too remote to have wireless reception? Would she be able to get accumulators charged there? She sighed. It was just another of the questions she had omitted to ask Ruari, but their meeting had been so restricted, and the time for questioning and cross-questioning so limited, she excused herself.
As she had vowed, Meggy did not put in an appearance on Sunday morning but since there were only three boarders Kirsty coped easily both with breakfast and with dinner, which was always served mid-day on Sundays so as to enable staff to attend church. Isabel and Mac never came down for Sunday dinner so Kirsty decided that staying to do a batch of baking and so lighten Isabel’s task, if only for the time it would take her to find a new cook, might do more to salve her own conscience than going to church. She was in the middle of cooking when Isabel, sour-faced and smoking a cigarette, came into the kitchen. Kirsty gave her an abrupt ‘Good morning!’ She had taken Isabel and Mac their morning tea at the usual time but they had been too sluggish with sleep to be aware that it was she and not Meggy in attendance.
An Island Apart Page 7