Ruth arrived while Fergus was on the phone. He could hear her and Lachlan in the kitchen, chattering away about books and writing. He found their voices distracting and at first didn’t fully take in the fact that Kirsteen was telling him she wouldn’t be arriving home as planned.
‘Aunt Minnie isn’t coming along as fast as we thought. The doctor says it’s her age and wondered if we would mind staying on a bit longer. Fergie, are you listening to me? I said . . .’
‘Ay, I know what you said . . .’
His mind began racing as he thought about the complications that her delayed homecoming might evoke. How could he continue living under the same roof as Fern and manage to remain detached from her? It was a dangerous situation, one that was growing more difficult with the passing days. His mind rejected involvement with the girl even while his body cried out for her with all the raw emotions of a man who was fast approaching a crisis point.
He couldn’t go on resisting her – he just couldn’t! It was too much to ask of any hot-blooded man. He couldn’t stand any more of this aching, terrible yearning that gnawed at him day and night. Even with the children in the house, there was plenty of opportunity for him to go to Fern if he allowed himself to give in to his desires. And Kirsteen was unwittingly making it easy for him – the fates seemed to be aiding and abetting this devil that had taken possession of him!
His heart began to beat strangely. Something terrible had happened to him. If he was honest with himself, he had to admit that he was glad – glad – that Kirsteen wasn’t coming home just yet. In the next instant a black tide of deepest guilt swept over him and he asked himself how could he? How could he ever think such a thing? His Kirsteen! The woman he had once loved with a passion beyond endurance! The woman who had borne his children, who had shared his life so sweetly for so many years. The woman who not only owned his heart but his very soul and one he would do anything for.
Yet, despite the knowledge of these things, despite his love for his wife, his voice, when he spoke, uttered words of deception that seemed not to come from him. ‘Kirsteen, I don’t know what to say about this,’ he began hesitantly, ‘I’m missing you, mo cridhe. I was all prepared for you coming home. I want you here beside me . . .’
‘Oh, Fergie,’ her voice was immediately filled with loving concern. ‘I’m sorry, I should have considered you first. I won’t stay here after all, I’ll come home, Phebie can manage without me, my place is with you on Rhanna . . .’
‘No, Kirsteen, I’m the selfish one, the old lady needs you more than I do. I’m managing fine here, the womenfolk are making sure o’ that, and the wee ones watch over me day and night. Lorna reads to me . . .’ he chuckled, ‘tales that she thinks I’ll understand and that are befitting to a man of my tender years, and Ellie Dawn sings to me in her tiny little elf of a voice. They’re like a couple o’ bookends in bed, one on either side o’ me in case I fall out, at least that’s what Lorna told me. They fight like a pair o’ shrews and try to get me to take sides but they’re great bairns and Fern likes having them around.’
‘Oh, yes, Fern, I’m glad she came back, poor lass. How is she? I was so sorry when you told me she had run away from her husband because of his cruelty to her.’
Her voice was warm with compassion and Fergus answered her quickly, ‘She’s fine now, and she keeps herself busy around the place. She’s a good cook too and aye has my meals on the table, even Bob approves of her cooking.’
‘I see, I’m beginning to feel I’m not needed there anymore. What about Shona? Doesn’t she feel ousted from her position as head daughter o’ the house? Surely her nose must be out o’ joint just a teeny weeny bit?’
He didn’t reply immediately to that. Shona had not accepted Fern’s presence in the house, rather her resentment had strengthened and she hadn’t taken kindly to another woman in Laigmhor’s kitchen in her step-mother’s absence. But he wasn’t going to tell Kirsteen that. She might start asking too many questions and his life at the moment was complicated enough as it was.
‘She has her own lot to see to, but she mucks in with Fern when the need arises and she and Ruth, Fiona and Grant, make a point o’ coming along to keep an eye on me and make sure I never feel lonely.’
‘Sounds like a full house. Will there be any room for me when I finally get back?’
‘Mo cridhe, you’re the one who keeps us all together and well you know it. But you can’t let either Aunt Minnie or Phebie down so just you bide where you are for as long as you’re needed. I’ll be fine, and I’ll keep in touch, I promise.’
They said their goodbyes and Fergus turned gladly away from the phone to go to the kitchen, where he discovered that Erchy the Post had arrived to swell the ranks, thus giving Fergus no chance to tell Lachlan that the return of their respective wives would be delayed for a while longer.
‘I don’t know why I’m so thirsty this morning,’ Erchy said ruefully, dumping a sheaf of letters on the table as he settled himself on a chair. ‘I am just after delivering the mail to Croft na Beinn. While I was there I had a wee blether wi’ Nancy so maybe that’s why my tongue is sticking to the roof o’ my mouth. She can talk the hind legs off a donkey, can Nancy Taylor.’
‘And I suppose you just sat there like a mouse and listened,’ suggested Lachlan with a twinkle.
‘Ach well, I did put in the odd word or two but in the end it’s the womenfolk who have the biggest say.’
Wetting his lips, he picked up a cup to peer into its empty depths and Ruth laughed. ‘Hint, hint! Why can you no’ just come right out wi’ it and ask for a cup o’ tea, even though I’m sure you got one at Nancy’s. It’s a wonder to me you ever manage to deliver any mail with all that liquid you consume on your rounds.’
‘Ay, it can be a problem,’ Erchy agreed, ‘but nothing that a wee tin under the driver’s seat canny cure.’
‘Spare me the details,’ Ruth said and went to put on the kettle.
‘I’ve brought you a letter, Lachlan,’ Erchy announced rather cryptically, peeping at Lachlan from under the brim of his hat.
‘Well, you don’t say, now? And here was me thinking you were delivering daffodils. If I’m seeing right, you’ve brought me not one, but several items of mail.’
The conversation was suspended for a moment as Ruth came back with the tea which she dispensed into cups and passed round.
‘Ay, but this one’s special.’ Erchy picked up the threads of the conversation as he sipped contentedly at his tea. ‘I had a quick glance at it as I was coming along and I just happened to notice it had a wee address printed on the back o’ the envelope.’
‘You never fail to amaze me,’ interceded Lachlan sarcastically.
Erchy crunched noisily into a gingernut biscuit. ‘Ay, and I was after seeing it was from that very magazine that is so popular wi’ everyone. The one that has these nice pictures o’ Scottish scenes on the front cover.’ He delivered this last piece of information with great aplomb, calm sounding and seemingly more interested in the plateful of tit-bits that Ruth had placed on the table in front of him.
But for all that, his words had the desired effect. Lachlan and Ruth just stared at him, Fergus paused with his cup half-way to his mouth, even Heinz, who was under the table waiting for crumbs, popped his head up to look at everyone with comical expectancy.
‘Well, let me see it, man,’ Lachlan found his voice. ‘It is my letter we’re talking about, after all.’
With maddening calm Erchy picked up the bundle of mail from the table and slowly removed the elastic band surrounding it. ‘Let me see now, some o’ these are for the new bungalows, these two are for you, Fergus, this one’s for Murdy, just one o’ they circulars that clog up the rubbish bins. I didny have time to sort them all out at the post office and just stuck them all together in my rush . . .’
‘For heaven’s sake!’ Lachlan exploded. ‘I’ll clonk you over the head wi’ that plate o’ biscuits if you don’t get a move on, Erchy McKay!’
�
�Oh, well, now, there is no need for threats o’ that nature, Lachlan.’ Erchy looked hurt, nonetheless he knew when he had gone far enough and at last delivered Lachlan’s letter into his waiting hand.
There was silence at the table as he tore it open, a hushed, waiting silence that lasted for fully ten seconds till Lachlan broke it with a wild whoop of joy.
Waving the letter in the air he yelled, ‘Subject to editorial adjustment my article’s been accepted and will appear in the July issue o’ the magazine. It will have a little column all to itself and, if it takes off, they want it to be an ongoing thing! To cap it all, they’ve enclosed a nice little cheque in advance of publication!’
‘Lachlan! That’s wonderful news!’ Ruth rushed round the table to give him a resounding hug, while Heinz barked with excitement and Fergus uttered his congratulations.
Erchy, waiting till all the fuss had died down, grinned at Lachlan and dared to say, ‘I don’t suppose you’ll be telling us how much they paid you, will you now?’
‘You suppose correctly, Erchy,’ Lachlan returned promptly.
Erchy remained unperturbed. ‘A pity, a great pity. A writer’s income has aye been a wee curiosity o’ mine. Take Ruth here, for example, none o’ us are knowing if she’s a millionaire keeping a low profile or if she’s just keeping a low profile hoping to become a millionaire.’
He looked hopefully at Ruth but she just laughed and set about clearing the table while Lachlan, still floating on air, disappeared into the parlour to regale Phebie with the news over the phone.
‘Lachy! That’s wonderful!’ she cried. ‘Och, I’m so proud o’ you! I would love to be there to give you a hug but it will have to wait now till Aunt Minnie’s feeling better.’
‘Eh! I thought you were coming home tomorrow or the next day?’
‘Didn’t Fergus tell you? He’s not long off the phone to Kirsteen.’
‘Erchy came in, Ruth was here too – in all the excitement he probably didn’t get the chance.’
‘Och well, it won’t be for all that much longer, and it’s maybe just as well, it will give you time to get cracking on your next article. It’s marvellous news, Lachy, darling, wait till I tell Kirsteen and Aunt Minnie. I’m going to have a marvellous time basking in all the reflected glory so don’t you dare sit back on your laurels. I have a reputation to keep up and you’d better not let me down.’
When Lachlan got back to the kitchen it was to find Ruth gone and Erchy just leaving, grumbling in his good-natured way because he still had a whole load of mail to deliver before going on to his part-time job as driver of the island bus, a ramshackle Bedford O.B. he had purchased some years ago to supplement his income from the post office.
‘My regular passengers will kill me if I keep them waiting,’ he predicted cheerily, and went off whistling, his steps more hurried than usual, eager as he was to regale everyone with Lachlan’s good news.
Fergus remained to chat briefly to Lachlan before he too departed into the sunny glen, his mind brimming with a million thoughts and mixed emotions. As he neared Laigmhor his footsteps faltered a little and he wondered if it would be wise to go home rather than return to work in the fields. The children were at school, only Fern would be in, and she would be alone, dangerously and excitingly – alone . . .
His black eyes glinted, he pulled back his shoulders. It was his house – and it would soon be dinnertime. It would be silly to turn back now, he wasn’t used to calculating his every move and he was damned if he was going to allow his life to be ruled in this way! Despite his decision, his progress along the farm track was as slow as he could make it. Visions of Kirsteen kept tormenting him, her smile, the way she held her head, the love in her blue eyes when she looked at him, how she had cherished and cared for him all these years.
By the time he reached the back door of the house he was feeling miserable and mixed up, yet he couldn’t resist the forces that were leading him on – into certain self-destruction.
But the house was empty. Fern had gone off on one of her lone wanders. He told himself it was a reprieve from something that he wanted no part in, even while a torrent of disappointment raged through him and he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry as he stood there alone in the deserted kitchen, hearing only the ticking of the clocks and the sad lost bleating of an orphaned lamb in a basket beside the fire. Fern had found the frail little creature lying beside its dead mother and had carried it home to tuck it into the wickerwork basket that had been bed for generations of canine pets in the Laigmhor household.
Heinz himself had occupied it as a pup and he had been intrigued when the new arrival had been deposited in it and wrapped in a blanket. Now he went over to the motherless baby to sniff at it and give it a good wash with his big floppy tongue.
The lamb was happy to see this great mutt of a face so close to his own little white one and emitting a milky burp he rolled over and tapped the dog’s nose with one small hard front foot. Heinz blinked and let out a squeak of surprise, his tail beginning to swing in an apologetic fashion as the lamb reached up and tried to suckle his nose.
This time Heinz was not amused. Backing off he knocked over a footstool and slipped on the rug and Fergus forgot all about his feelings of vexation, so entertained was he by the antics of the animals in a house that was definitely far from empty.
Chapter Fifteen
Several days later, a red-nosed Elspeth presented herself at the Manse, still sniffling a bit after her bout of flu but in reasonably good fettle for all that.
‘Come in, come in,’ invited the Reverend Mark James in his warm hospitable manner, ushering her into his study as he spoke. ‘You must forgive the mess,’ he went on, ruefully glancing at the pile of paperwork on his desk and the mountain of books stacked up beside a scuffed green leather armchair by the fire. ‘I was doing some research work and I’m afraid I’m not one o’ those tidy people who clears everything away after them.’
To herself, Elspeth wondered why on earth he employed the services of Tina if she didn’t even have the decency to lift a finger to dust the place. Elspeth was not familiar with the cleaning arrangements of the Manse. Only in extreme circumstances did Tina enter the workrooms of both the minister and the doctor, usually when the dust could no longer be ignored; other than that she applied her gentle administrations to the bedrooms and those parts of the house which were ‘open to public inspection’.
Both Megan and Mark were entirely satisfied with Tina and her methods and wouldn’t have had it any other way. Elspeth, on the other hand, prided herself on her housekeeping, and when she beheld the jumble in the minister’s den she told herself it was a disgrace, taking good money for keeping the place like a boorach and Tina herself creating such a fuss about ‘working to the Manse’.
The two dogs, Muff and Flops, who never allowed their master to go anywhere without them, were decorating a couple of lumpy armchairs near the fire, opening one eye each at the intrusion of the visitor, the remainder of their anatomy cascading over the cushions in a hotch-potch of ears, paws, and tails. Inspection time over, they displayed no further interest in the newcomer and promptly went back to sleep. But their repose was short-lived, and their indignation great, when they found themselves being decanted from their favourite chairs and deposited out in the lobby.
With an apologetic grin, Mark James dusted the hairs from the cushions with a few flicks of his hand, and politely bade Elspeth to ‘take a pew’.
Elspeth did not appreciate this flippancy, especially from the minister himself, and when she condescended to lower herself into the chair indicated it was to sit stiffly on the edge of it, her back as ramrod straight as her shoulders.
Her eyes roved round the room, coming to rest on the mantelpiece where sat pictures of the minister’s first wife, Margaret, and his small daughter, Sharon. Both of them had been killed in a car accident some years ago and Elspeth, for all her sour ways, had become quite sympathetic over his loss and was able to see now why he had married ag
ain. The child in the photo was laughing, her eyes sparkling with the joy of living. Elspeth had always wanted children herself and she thought how awful it must have been to have had such a beautiful child taken away – in the midst of life . . .
Loneliness was a terrible thing, as she herself very well knew, and she found her eyes growing a little misty as she realised how alone Mark James must have felt when first he had come to Rhanna.
‘Relax, Elspeth,’ smiled the minister, mistaking her silence for disapproval of his untidy ways. ‘I’m not going to eat you . . . I leave that sort o’ thing to the dogs,’ he added, his smokey grey eyes twinkling with devilment.
Elspeth lowered her shoulders a fraction and permitted herself a watery smile. ‘I doubt that, Mr James, they look as if it takes them all their energy to eat their own dinner.’
‘Oh, they soon waken up when it comes to mealtimes,’ he assured her with a laugh. ‘Talking o’ which, it must be nearly time for elevenses. I’ll get Tina to bring it to us in here.’
He disappeared for a minute, but was soon back, rubbing his hands in his enthusiastic fashion as he said, ‘We’re in luck this morning, Tina’s just made a batch o’ muffins, piping hot straight out of the oven.’
As if on cue Tina came in with the tea, laying it on top of an occasional table after first scooping magazines and papers off its surface with the edge of the tray. ‘Now then, Elspeth, how many spoons o’ sugar do you take?’ Tina enquired with great decorum.
Elspeth didn’t immediately answer, so incensed was she with annoyance at the sight of the newspapers lying where they had fallen on the worn Axminster rug.
‘I don’t take sugar, thanking you,’ she returned with equal politeness, all the time wishing she could teach Tina a thing or two about good housekeeping. ‘And just a thumbnail amount of milk, if you would be so good.’
A smile flickered across Tina’s face. Having poured the tea she stood back and eyed Elspeth’s blotched countenance. ‘Ach my, poor soul, you look terrible just,’ she observed sympathetically as she folded her hands over her ample stomach, an indication that she was getting set for a good gossip. ‘It isn’t the minister you should be seeing, it is the doctor.’
A Rhanna Mystery Page 15