Rhanna at War

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Anton had noted all these facts long ago and he sat in the midst of the Rhanna folk and wished that he could stay with them for the rest of his days, to discover the secrets that made for contented minds and to be rewarded with the elixir of youth that the simplicity of life on Rhanna seemed to bring.

  Tam had brought along a good supply of ‘the water of life’ and glasses were filled with the amber liquid, chinked together solemnly in those first sober moments, while cries of ‘Slainte’ filled the room.

  Babbie had not wanted to come down but had been persuaded to do so by Shona, and now she sat in a corner, hardly daring to look up for fear she would meet Anton’s blue, questioning gaze.

  The fiddles began to play and soon the room was filled with haunting melodies that spoke of the ocean and of young men who had died in treacherous seas while out with the fishing boats. After the fiddles came the rousing tunes of the pipes and soon everyone was up dancing, ‘hooching’ with wild abandon, a swirling mass of tartan kilts, fine hairy legs and flouncing skirts.

  Fergus whirled Kirsteen round in a gay eightsome reel, his deep laugh booming out, so unlike the Fergus of yesteryear who had sat alone in corners during times like these, brooding over the girl he thought he would never see again. Now, here she was, one minute out of his reach, the next, warm and desirable in his grasp, her golden hair shining, her white teeth flashing.

  ‘Don’t whirl me so fast, Fergus,’ she protested at one point. ‘I’m dizzy enough as it is.’

  ‘Do you think it’s true then?’ he murmured delightedly, ‘the thing you told me on the thirteenth night of last month?’

  ‘If it isn’t then my name is not McKenzie!’

  Everyone seemed to have a partner and the two who might have made the happiest partners of all sat miserably alone in their respective corners, pretending to be enjoying themselves, smiling without the smiles reaching their eyes – apart, yet so aware of each other’s presence they might have been locked in the other’s arms, whispering the words of love that so overflowed in their hearts.

  ‘You’ll be having another dram, Mr Bugger?’

  Anton smiled up at Tam and accepted a fill of the Uisge-beatha. ‘Thank you – Tam, and please, don’t call me that – my name is Anton. You are Tam, I am Anton.’

  ‘Ach, of course you are, son. Slainte, Anton, and get up off your backside and dance. There’s a fine wee lass over there in the corner. Our very own Nurse Babbie.’ Tam leaned forward confidentially. ‘I would ask her myself but Kate would have me out of here by the skin of my lugs before you could blink.’

  But just then everybody flopped down exhausted and it was time for the Seanachaidhs to tell their strange tales of myth and legend. Jim Jim had been watching his daughter with Dugald Donaldson and as soon as the red-faced Erchy stopped to gather breath, he spoke in a voice so mysterious that all eyes in the room turned towards him.

  ‘I am thinking of a very odd story told me by Black Ewan that time I was over in Barra helping wi’ the mackerel shoals.’ At the very mention of Black Ewan the atmosphere in the room was charged with a subdued excitement. Black Ewan of Barra was well known throughout the Western Isles for his strange powers of second sight and his spine-chilling tales that went hand in hand with his ‘seeing eye’.

  ‘It was a gey queer tale but true – true according to Black Ewan,’ Jim Jim went on, pausing to let his words take effect in the intervening hush. Erchy’s heavy breathing and the sparkling of the peats in the grate were the only sounds that filled the silence for a few moments.

  ‘Go on now, Jim Jim,’ Bob encouraged, his curiosity getting the better of his resentment of Jim Jim’s taking the limelight away from himself and Andrew, the two recognised Seanachaidhs in the room.

  ‘Well, it was about the time o’ the Great War,’ Jim Jim continued slowly. ‘And you mind Black Ewan was out at sea wi’ the Naval Patrol vessels?’

  ‘Ay, ay, that was the time he found the barrel o’ rum floatin’ in the sea,’ Ranald supplemented with a beaming smile, ‘and was so drunk on it his mates tied him to a chair in the wheelhouse because it was the safest place for him.’

  ‘Look you, that has nothing to do wi’ my story,’ Jim Jim said scathingly. ‘It is about one o’ the lads on the boat who was always boastin’ about the amount o’ women he managed to have and never after marryin’ one o’ them. Black Ewan warned the chiel to stop his mischief and with his seeing eye he foretold the man was going to seduce the daughter o’ a witch. If he wasny after marrying her he would have a fate that no mortal could foretell it would be so evil. Well, it happened right enough and worse than anyone imagined. Out at sea, with no land expected for miles, an island just appeared out of nowhere. On it was marooned a lovely young maiden, hair black as night and eyes like the black peats on the moor. All the men on the vessel were terrified but no’ the seducer. He landed on the island an’ promised himself to the maiden if she succumbed to him. Well, she did right enough, the bad bad lassie, but then he was all for leavin’ her to go back to the ship. Just then a fearful hag rose out o’ the sea, green wi’ slime and black wi’ warts. She screeched an evil curse on the seducer that was terrible to hear. He remembered his mother tellin’ him “Never look into the eyes of a Green Uisga Caillich and their curses might no’ work”, but he was so taken aback he stared straight at the hag. There and then he was turned into a lump o’ black rock, all twisted like he had died in agony. On the top was a black skull wi’ two empty sockets where his eyes had been.’

  Jim Jim paused for breath and a round-eyed Mairi said wonderingly, ‘Och my, the poor mannie, it must have been sore on him.’

  ‘Ay, but that’s the kind o’ things that happens to men who go around seducing innocent women then leave them in the lurch,’ Jim Jim nodded with a meaningful look at Dugald Ban, named so because of his mop of white hair.

  Morag Ruadh threw back her head and gave a shout of laughter. ‘Ach Father, you’d best stick to damping peats with your spit for you’re no use at all as a story-teller . . . as Bob and Andrew will be after tellin’ you from the look on their faces.’

  ‘I did not understand it all but I think it is a very interesting story,’ Anton said courteously.

  ‘Will you tell us a story about the legends of Germany?’ came eagerly from Ranald. ‘I was reading a book about it and there’s a lot o’ strange things happen there . . . other of course than thon funny wee man, Hitler.’

  Anton smiled. ‘Not a story about Germany, Ranald, but something that I remember and always brings my home back into my thoughts.’ He sat with his hands between his knees and slowly looked round the company. ‘I am not one for too much talking and never could I tell a story like Jim Jim. These are memories I tell you now. When I was a little boy back home in my father’s farm in Berlin, he used to say to me – round a fire like this, “Love each season for they are God-given. Love each day for each day is a gift. Love each moment, like moments in heaven . . . love, never hate for life is too swift.” I have never forgotten these words and though I did not fully understand them at the time, I do now. I have not always found it easy – never to hate – but here, tonight on Rhanna, among people who have become my very dear friends, I understand fully the meaning of my father’s words. Tomorrow I leave you all and never have I been so loath to leave a place as I am now.’

  There was complete silence with all eyes on the young German whose boyish figure was outlined against the glow of the fire. He raised his head and smiled warmly at Lachlan and Phebie standing together. ‘To you I raise my glass and say, “Slainte” – good health in return for mine. If all doctors were like Lachlan and all doctors’ wives were like Phebie, then the world would be filled with health, and peace . . . and, most important of all, love. To Shona and Niall I give thanks for many things – friendship, companionship, for laughter when I didn’t want to laugh . . . to my little Fiona I am deeply indebted for keeping me supplied with pets till my bed jumps with them and I almost undo all of Lachlan’s good work le
aping about after them. Frau Morrison I thank for her Benger’s food and for keeping my bed so tidy I am almost afraid to lie in it – and . . .’ he looked straight at Babbie, ‘to Babbie, who nursed me like an angel, I give thanks for memories that will go with me for the rest of my life. To you all I give my gratitude for making the days of a German airman those that he will never forget. To all of you I say, “Slainte” and God bless you all!’

  The silence in the room had deepened till it was something that could be felt. The islanders did not like sentiment openly displayed and were always careful to hide their deeper emotions in frivolous words and happy banter, but at that moment there was hardly a dry eye in the room. Elspeth rose hastily and rushed into the kitchen to stand with her hands planted firmly on the table in an effort to stop her gaunt frame from trembling with all her suppressed tears. Lachlan and Phebie held on to each other and smiled with eyes that were too bright. The rest of the gathering shuffled in embarrassment. And when Anton looked at Babbie’s corner he saw that she had fled, taking his heart with her.

  ‘Ach, you are a good laddie, right enough,’ Biddy sniffed gruffly. ‘The Lord will spare you wherever you go, I’m damt sure o’ that.’

  ‘Ay, indeed just,’ was the general murmur round the room.

  Niall jumped to his feet, raising his glass to the ceiling. ‘Slainte to you, Anton! I never thought I’d ever say that a Jerry was – is – one of the best friends I ever had – but I’m saying it now – tonight! To Anton I say, haste ye back for auld lang syne!’

  The room rose as one. ‘To Anton, haste ye back!’

  ‘And God bless you, Anton Büttger,’ Phebie whispered shakily and buried her face in Lachlan’s shoulder.

  The island gave Anton a good send-off. Cries of good wishes for his future well-being filled the harbour at Portcull. He stood for a few moments, observing it all, the spring green on the mountains, the smoke that drifted as dreamily as the people of Rhanna, the bronzed slopes of Sgurr nan Ruadh that reminded him of a girl with hair the colour of a fiery sunset. He looked at the water remembering eyes that were like pools of amber-flecked sea, and he smiled and felt like weeping. In his pocket were several packages, one a bottle of Tam’s Uisge-beatha, the other a small parcel which Elspeth had pushed brusquely at him when he left Slochmhor for the last time.

  ‘Some tablet to put strength in your feets,’ she had told him sourly. ‘With the sugar on rationing it wasny easy but we must all share what we have – after all – we are all alike in the eyes o’ God though sometimes I think He must be needin’ specs.’

  He had surprised her by taking her hand and saying quietly, ‘Mein Frau – thank you – and it is not God who is needing the spectacles – it is ourselves. He will bless you for your thoughtfulness – Elspeth.’

  His pronunciation of her name was beautiful and, with crimson staining her cheeks, she had hurried quickly into the house to dab at her eyes with the corner of her apron.

  Fiona also had given him a present, a glass jar containing a large hairy spider. ‘For luck,’ she said briefly for it had cost her a lot to part with her most prized specimen. ‘His name is Geallachas, which is the Gaelic for faithful, so mind you take care of him. Keep the jar open so’s he can catch flies and get a parcel of midgies together. Mind give him a drop of water too for spiders get gey thirsty.’

  Anton had laughed and stooped to look into the child’s bright eyes. ‘Thank you – jungfrau – that is the German for maiden. I know Geallachas will bring me luck – perhaps enough for me to come back to this island and marry a beautiful princess called Fiona McLachlan!’

  ‘Ach, you’d be too old!’ she told him, but her smile was coy and she threw her arms round his neck to kiss his forehead.

  The military escort were impatient to be on their way but Anton’s blue eyes were scanning the harbour hoping to catch a last glimpse of Babbie. She hadn’t said goodbye to him, she had barely spoken a word to him since yesterday. There was no sign of her at the harbour and his heart lay like a pebble in his breast.

  He extended his hands to Shona and Niall who had come down with him. ‘Fräulein Shona,’ he whispered, ‘my beautiful maiden who rescued a monster in distress.’

  ‘A monster who changed into a handsome young airman,’ she said as lightly as she could, hardly able to bear looking at the pain of hurt in his eyes.

  ‘Hey, enough you two,’ Niall laughed, ‘jealousy is rearing its ugly head again!’

  Anton turned to him. ‘Thank you, my friend, for yesterday. It is a day I will remember. Will you tell Fräulein Babbie I give to her my love. Thank her also – for healing my body – just say that, Niall.’

  Niall gripped Anton’s hand so hard he winced. ‘I’ll tell her, Anton.’ Desperately he tried to think of something comforting to say but there was nothing. ‘She couldn’t come to see you off,’ he said as the young German turned away. ‘She said you would understand.’

  A pink stain touched Anton’s pale cheeks. ‘Perfectly,’ he said shortly and walked quickly to the waiting boat.

  In the distance a figure came flying down Glen Fallan. Shona saw it first and hope fluttered in her breast. A few seconds later she saw the unmistakable gleam of red hair as Babbie ran past the War Memorial near Murdy’s house.

  ‘Anton . . . wait!’ Shona’s voice was a strangled little sob of sound.

  Anton turned and in that split second the despair in his eyes was replaced by a jostling welter of emotions, with hope, that bright spark which buoys up the spirits in their most flagging state, struggling upwards from the depths of his being.

  ‘Babbie.’ He murmured the name huskily. ‘Babbie.’

  She came fleeing towards him without pause, straight into the water to wade towards the boat, without heed for anything or anyone.

  ‘Anton!’ His name soared towards the heavens. ‘Anton! I love you!’ she yelled in an ecstasy of joy. She fell into his arms and he caught her, laughing into her hair, burying his face into her breasts. Their tears mingled as they kissed and the military turned discreetly away.

  ‘Anton, I couldn’t let you go,’ she sobbed almost incoherently. ‘I thought about you all night long . . .’

  He smothered her words with another kiss and she struggled to say breathlessly, ‘I have so much to explain to you, Anton – all the reasons why I thought I couldn’t love you – but I do – I do! You must send me your address and I’ll tell you all in a letter . . . and I’ll wait, I’ll wait my darling . . . forever if need be!’

  ‘I don’t think the war will last that long!’ he said, sparks of joy flashing from his blue eyes. ‘And time will go quickly. I’ll write you twice a day . . .’

  ‘Once will be enough,’ she laughed. The engine started up and they clung together. ‘Oh, my darling, I don’t want to let you go,’ she cried. ‘I want to hold you and love you and touch you.’

  They drew apart, hands clinging, eyes saying a million things as yet unvoiced. Briefly he touched her hair, her face, then almost roughly he pushed her away from the boat. His eyes sought out Shona and Niall on the shore. ‘Goodbye, my friends,’ he breathed, while the man in him fought back the tears of such a bitter-sweet parting.

  The boat’s engines whirled the water into foam and pulled it steadily out of the harbour yet still Babbie stood up to her knees in the sea with tears coursing down her face. Anton’s head was now a golden crown, a minute later just a bright gleam far out in the water. ‘I love you, Anton, I love you,’ she sobbed into her hands.

  Niall waded out to fetch her back to shore. ‘That’s right,’ he said gently. ‘Greet your heart out. It will do you good, myself and Shona found that out a whily back. Take my hanky and give your nose a right good blow.’

  She obeyed with such ardour that the sound of her blowing her nose was like a miniature foghorn and all three burst into subdued laughter.

  Babbie gave a watery sniff. ‘Fiona told me she gave Anton a spider for luck – and it worked – that and the pair of you going off yesterda
y and leaving me alone with him.’ She twisted round to look at the boat which was now just a black speck in the water but Shona took her firmly by the hand and led her past a gaping throng of islanders towards Glen Fallan and the welcoming banner of smoke from Laigmhor’s chimneys.

  Part Six

  Rhanna

  Summer 1941

  Chapter Sixteen

  Rhanna droned lazily in the heat of high summer and Shona ran swiftly over the green fields of Laigmhor. Out on the Sound of Rhanna the ferry sounded its deep mournful horn and she stopped to watch it gliding into the harbour before she walked into the cool, silent woods that skirted the road. Pine needles rustled beneath her feet, the sunlight dappled the rich brown earth. She sat down on a mossy tree stump to hug her knees while she waited for Niall the way she had waited countless times before. She was wearing a dress of palest green which was a perfect foil for the deep gold of her suntanned limbs and the luxuriant auburn hair which she had swept upwards and pinned carefully into place.

  She had taken overly long to get ready that morning, exasperating both Kirsteen and Fergus by running downstairs during breakfast, deciding to change from her white dress into a yellow one before the meal was over, deciding she liked neither and changing to the green. She had wondered whether to wear her long hair up or down and when Fergus said, ‘I like it flowing down your back the way it was when you were a wee girl,’ she had answered, ‘I am eighteen, Father!’ and had gone immediately upstairs to pin up the thick waving curls.

  ‘You’re too grown up for me to talk to now,’ Grant told her disgustedly.

  ‘And you’re too much of a baby for me to care!’ she had snapped at him. She was tense and irritable as so often happens when a keenly anticipated event is nearly reality.