A Rhanna Mystery

by Christine Marion Fraser

  ‘Maybe you’re aiming too high to start with,’ Ruth said bluntly. ‘I myself started off with short stories and articles before I even thought o’ writing a novel. Why don’t you try doing an article first and submit it to a newspaper or magazine? If they like it they might ask for more and you could take it from there. Walk before you run in other words.’

  He looked at her and his brown eyes were alight with gratitude. ‘Ruth, you’re a genius! Why didn’t I think o’ that?’

  ‘Because you aren’t a genius – yet – but you will be, once you pick up that magic pen.’

  They both burst out laughing and chinking their mugs together they wished one another health, happiness, and success.

  Fergus stood for a moment at his own gate, wondering whether he should go inside or if it might be better to go for a walk in order to calm the coils of tension that were winding ever tighter in his belly.

  He didn’t know why he should feel like this. It wasn’t like him to be so unsure of himself. He was cool, calm, collected, McKenzie o’ the Glen, always in control, always the master of any event that chanced along. In just two short days everything had changed and he had changed with it.

  That girl! That beautiful, young, witch of a girl had upset everything by coming to his house the way she had! Disrupting the routine, unsettling everyone, creating a situation that he had no desire to be entangled in. No doubt the tongues would already be wagging, the jungle drums steadily beating, from croft to cottage, village to village, port to port, till soon everyone on the island would know that Fergus McKenzie had a strange young woman living in the same house as himself and his wife not there to keep an eye on him. A muscle worked in Fergus’s jaw. Let them talk! He had weathered worse storms. None of this was his doing. It was just something that had – happened.

  The cool night air washed over him; he filled his lungs with it and gazed at the dark shapes of the hills standing clear against the night sky. In the distance the lights of Portcull winked and sparkled; he gazed beyond them to the silver-grey sheet that was the ocean and he thought about Kirsteen, how far away she seemed, how curt he had been with her on the phone.

  ‘Mo cridhe,’ he said softly, ‘I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you – about her – but she’ll be gone soon anyway and everything will be back to normal.’

  Heinz was snuffling and sniffing in the bushes, lifting his leg with single-minded enthusiasm at various favourite watering posts. He was solid, real, and uncomplicated, and somehow he transferred some of his implacability to his master.

  Fergus pulled back his shoulders and without further hesitation he opened the gate and strode purposefully across the yard to yank open the kitchen door and go inside, feeling as he did so that he was entering the portals of some strange house where dangerous destiny lurked amid an orchard of forbidden fruits.

  Chapter Seven

  The minute Fergus walked over the threshold he knew instantly that he should not have come home so early. The room smelled of steam and perfumed soap and was lit only by firelight which cast a soft, mysterious aura over everything.

  In the centre of this ambience of light and shade and quietly dreaming shadows was Fern, newly emerged from her bath, the droplets of water that adhered to her body looking like a myriad dazzling pearls in the fire’s glow. Fergus had never seen anyone so stunningly beautiful. There was about her a gypsy-like quality that seemed to enfold her in a mantle of colour; her thick wavy hair hung round her slender shoulders like a glossy blue-black curtain; her golden skin was satin smooth; her body willowy yet tantalisingly curvaceous; her dark eyes were luminous in her perfectly sculpted face; her mouth, though pale, was enticingly full and trembled just enough to make it look child-like and utterly innocent.

  As Fergus stood there, drinking in this figure of entrancing loveliness, he experienced a rush of fierce longing. He wanted to crush that wonderful mouth to his, he ached to touch the satiny smoothness of her skin, he wanted nothing more than to hold her and run his fingers through those shining black ringlets of hair . . . he wanted . . .

  His heart thumped, his legs felt weak . . . he knew that he had to get out of here, away from her, before . . .

  ‘Fergus McKenzie! What are you doing back so soon? This is no place for a man to be at a time like this. You’ve caught me wi’ my breeks down!’

  He became aware then that Tina was also in the room, coming at him, or so it seemed to him, from some hidden corner, with her ‘breeks’ perfectly intact, though of course, knowing Tina, her words made absolute sense to him. She was hot and pink and puffing a bit; coils of baby-soft hair had escaped their anchorage on top of her head, kirby grips swaying gaily around her ears like little tribal ornaments.

  Plunking herself very firmly between Fergus and the zinc tub, she surveyed him with mild annoyance and more than a tinge of embarrassment. ‘You should have chapped the door,’ she stressed, motioning behind her back for Fern to take the bathrobe she was holding. ‘You know how long it takes to heat the water for a bath and the girl needed a good scrubbing. I myself was up to the eyes in soapsuds and running about daft trying to find something clean for her to wear. I never heard a thing till you just came barging in like a bull wi’ the skitters.’

  ‘It is my house, Tina,’ he asserted himself breathlessly, ‘and I think I have a right to come and go from it when I please.’

  ‘That’s as may be,’ she conceded, while she prodded a few hair grips back into her head, ‘but you knew fine how busy I would be and surely to goodness you should have knocked before you came in.’

  The lass in question had omitted to do anything with the garment that Tina had all but thrown at her. She just stood there with her back to the fire, surrounded enchantingly by its amber glow, staring at Fergus as if she was mesmerised.

  ‘Enough o’ this!’ cried Tina in a burst of exasperation, glaring at the girl as if she would like her to disappear through the wall. ‘Put that goonie on at once and make yourself decent or I’ll take it and wrap it round your lugs wi’ my very own hands!’

  With a shrug the girl retrieved the robe from the floor and slipping her arms into the cosy folds she wrapped it round herself and tied it loosely round her waist. The colour of it was blue and it suited her to perfection. Her long hair flowed down her back, a million secrets seemed locked in her flashing dark eyes, while her tremulous mouth promised delights beyond compare.

  Fergus felt there was more to this young woman than met the eye; she was hungry for affection and she was letting him know it. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from her and she, interpreting the look in his burning black eyes, tossed her head a little and allowed the robe to fall open so that her shapely legs were revealed to him.

  ‘It’s one o’ Kirsteen’s own goonies,’ Tina’s voice, homely and practical, broke the spell of taut silence that had fallen over the room. ‘I found it hanging behind the door. I hope you don’t mind, Fergus?’

  ‘No, no, of course I don’t.’ With an effort he brought himself back to reality, ‘And I’m sure Kirsteen wouldn’t either.’

  ‘Right, I’ll make us all some nice hot cocoa, then I’ll have to be going. Eve will be wondering what in the world has happened to me and I promised Doctor Megan I would go over to the Manse in the morning to see to my usual duties.’

  ‘No, you mustn’t go!’ Fergus, coming completely to his senses, took Tina’s arm, and steering her out of Fern’s earshot he said urgently, ‘You can’t leave me alone wi’ – wi’ her. The cailleachs would have a field day if anything o’ the sort got to their ears and besides, she hasn’t quite recovered from that knock she took and I – wouldn’t know what to do wi’ her.’

  Tina’s dimples showed. ‘That wasny the impression I got just a few minutes ago . . . I thought you were going to eat her the way you were gawping at her.’

  His brow darkened. ‘I just got a surprise, that’s all, it isn’t every day that a man finds a naked young woman in his own kitchen. Come on, Tina, you’ve got to help me. Th
is will all get to Kirsteen’s ears eventually and I’ve had enough woman trouble to be going on with.’

  ‘Ach, alright,’ she relented with one of her radiant smiles, ‘I did say to Eve I might no’ be home and no’ to wait up for me. But only for tonight, mind. Grandma Ann and Granda John like me to be around the village to go their messages and the minister relies on me to keep house for him wi’ himself and the doctor being such busy people.’

  Fergus breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Right, that’s settled, you get the cocoa while I go upstairs and tidy myself up a bit.’

  Tina looked at him in surprise; the Fergus she knew didn’t speak that way but she made no comment as he left the kitchen with the faithful Heinz very firmly at his heels.

  A short while later, when they were all sitting round the fire partaking of supper, Fergus looked directly at Fern and said softly, ‘Don’t you think it’s about time you told us a bit about yourself? So far we only know your name and that’s all. I for one would like to know where you come from and why you showed up here at Laigmhor the way you did.’

  A wary look came into the girl’s great dark eyes and turning her head away she murmured in a low voice, ‘Myself was cold and hungry and needing to find a bit o’ shelter. I saw your house, I went into your barn and bumped my head on a rafter. That’s all I can remember.’

  ‘But why were you here on Rhanna in the first place?’ Fergus persisted. ‘Have you got family here? Were you coming to visit friends? People don’t just arrive on an island in the middle o’ the night with nowhere to go.’

  ‘Please,’ the girl shook her head, her tumble of hair falling about her face with devastating effect. Fergus was struck anew by her quality of gypsy-like beauty, by the unbidden thought that here was a wild thing, one who needed light and air and freedom, in order to function properly. ‘Please don’t be going on at me,’ she continued in a pleading voice, ‘I don’t want to talk about anything yet. I need time, just give me a bit o’ that and I’ll try and tell you everything there is to tell.’

  ‘Och, poor lass, you’re tired and upset and needing your bed,’ Tina’s voice was warm with sympathy. Bending down she placed on her feet the pair of battered slippers she had brought with her, before scliffing over to the sink to run a kettle of steaming water over the supper dishes. ‘I’ll just be filling you a nice hot bottle,’ she told Fern, ‘then we’ll go upstairs together. I’m about dead on my feets from all the rushing about I’ve been doing today.’

  Fergus had to hide a smile since Tina, ‘born in a sleeping bag’, according to Kate, had never been known to rush anywhere except once, when her daughter’s son had entered the world, and in her excitement she hadn’t known whether she was ‘coming or going’ and had omitted to ‘don her breeks’ for the doctor when she came even though it was a safe bet that neither the doctor nor anyone else would have cared if she had been wearing a fig leaf at the time!

  Fern didn’t answer Tina. She was gazing into the fire, lost in thought, her chin propped in her hand, her golden-skinned face pensive and sad as she absently stroked the head of a large tabby cat who had commandeered her knee. There was something very, very sensuous in the way she was fondling the animal; in fact, every move she made reminded Fergus of a creature of the wild; lithe, graceful, watchful.

  With a sudden movement he got to his feet to damp the fire with dross and put the guard over it. ‘I’m away to bed,’ he announced as soon as his night jobs were finished. ‘It’s been a long day and in the morning we’ll have to decide what to do about you, young lady.’

  He gazed at Fern but she avoided his eyes. He was seized with the notion that there was a great deal she was hiding from him and he determined he would get her to speak about herself the next day. By hook or by crook he was going to uncover the mystery surrounding her even if he had to shake the truth out of her!

  ‘We’re coming too.’ Tina seized the hot bottle and taking Fern’s arm she guided her upstairs. ‘I’m in the spare room,’ she told the girl. ‘If there’s anything you need just let me know, though mind, you’ll have an awful job waking me. Once I hit the pillow I’m dead and auld Nick himself could have his way wi’ me and I’d be none the wiser.’

  Fern smiled faintly at that, all three wished one another goodnight, and softly closed their respective doors.

  For several minutes Fergus stood behind his own door, every fibre in him alert and churning. He stared at the bed, it looked vast and empty, and with a sigh he got undressed and slipped between the sheets.

  It took him a long time to get to sleep, his mind just wouldn’t be still. He thought about Kirsteen and wondered what she was doing. The bed was cold without her in it, snuggled up beside him, smelling of fresh air and roses, whispering in his ear the way she always did before falling asleep in his embrace. He wished she was here, longed to tell her how much he was missing her, how much he loved her.

  A terrible sense of guilt gripped him. What would she think of all this? A strange young woman in her house, bathing in her kitchen, wearing her bathrobe . . . a young woman called Fern, tormenting him with her grace and her beauty and that wonderful body of hers. He remembered how she’d looked fresh out of the tub and he broke out in a sweat. Kirsteen must never find out about that! It would cause ructions and no mistake and it had been through no fault of his. How was he to know she’d take all that time to bathe herself? He had been at Lachlan’s a good hour and had thought the bathtime ablutions would be over with by the time he got back. Tina should have locked the door, anyway! Anyone could have walked in on the same scene he had witnessed! To ease his conscience he conveniently forgot that people seldom locked their doors on Rhanna and that it had just been a matter of habit that had made Tina forget to bolt theirs.

  He spent a good few minutes blaming Tina for what had happened, then he gave a groan and turning over he shut his eyes and willed himself to go to sleep.

  Eventually he drifted into a light, uneasy slumber only to wake during the night, feeling that some sound had disturbed him. He strained his ears, listening. Was that a tiny furtive click that he heard? Followed by a faint rustling and creaking?

  The moon was shining in the window, bathing the room with its ghostly light. Getting up he padded over to the door in his bare feet, recoiling a little as the cold from the wooden floorboards seeped into him. Opening the door a crack he peered out. Nothing stirred, nothing moved. Everything was dark and secretive in those dreaming night hours. All the doors on the landing were closed, all was quiet, except for a faint snorting and snoring coming from the spare room.

  He smiled to himself. Tina was enjoying her repose, having obviously ‘died’ the minute she had hit the pillow, and a visitation from auld Nick himself would no doubt have been a waste of his time.

  The grandmother clock in the hall began chiming out the hour. Fergus counted the strokes. Three-thirty. Just three-thirty! How would he ever get back to sleep now? He was wide awake – and he was freezing!

  Softly he closed his door and went to the window just to make sure that no one was out there who hadn’t any business to be. The whole of Rhanna seemed spread before him as he stood there, looking out. It was a calm clear night, the hills rising up starkly on either side of the glen, shearing up into a pewter-coloured sky where the stars winked and the moon cast its heavenly light over land and sea.

  The undulating fields were filled with shadows; the trees that lined the riverbank looked like gnarled old men hunching their backs against the cold; the pale grey ribbon of the road snaked away into the distance and beyond all was the moon-silvered expanse of the Sound of Rhanna, ethereal and timeless in its cold, remote beauty.

  Fergus stood at the window for a long time, drinking in the quiet splendour of the countryside. Only when he began to shiver did he crawl once more under the covers to curl himself into a tight ball and eventually drift off into a fitful sleep.

  He was wakened a short time later, or so he imagined, by someone shaking him. With a start he opened his e
yes to see Tina gazing down at him with a worried expression on her plump, pleasant face. ‘Fergus, ’tis sorry I am to wake you but it’s Fern, she’s gone. I looked into her room to see was she needing anything but the bed was as empty as my belly is before breakfast.’

  Dazed with sleep, Fergus struggled to make sense of all this. ‘Gone? By that do you mean – vanished? From the house?’

  ‘Into thin air, from the room, from the house, from the planet. I’ve searched and searched everywhere and nary a sight o’ her have I seen. Mind you, she’s gone off wi’ some o’ the warm woollies Shona keeps in her wardrobe. I know them off by heart because I myself helped her to arrange them in their places no’ so long ago.’

  Fergus’s mind began racing as he wondered where on earth the girl was and what she was up to. The noises he had heard in the night must have been made by her leaving her room, but why had she gone about it so stealthily? And why leave the house in the middle of the night when there was no possible means of getting off the island?

  Then he remembered how anxious she’d been to get away from the house. How she had pleaded with both him and Tina to let her go, her referral to some man who would be ‘waiting and watching’ and that soon it would be ‘too late’. It was obvious that she was a young woman with an unhappy past and it was equally obvious that she was living in fear of someone from that past life catching up with her.

  Fergus was secretly relieved that Fern had gone. Her presence in his home had caused him too many dilemmas, both moral and physical. He told himself that he had done all he could for her and shrugged off the notion that he had perhaps been too hard on her with all those probing questions he had asked her last night.

  ‘She wanted to go, Tina,’ he said at last, ‘nothing we could have said or done would have kept her here against her will.’