Sealskin

by Su Bristow

  ‘You’ll come when I say!’

  ‘Leave me be!’ The shout took them all by surprise, and even the crying children fell silent. Jessie Bain, who never fought back, had found her voice.

  Aly raised his free hand and slapped her, open-handed. Around Donald, men looked away. It was not their business. But even then, Jessie did not give in.

  ‘I won’t come with you! Another child would kill me – she told you that to your face!’ Jessie looked around for Bridie, seated with the older women. ‘You said so!’

  Bridie got up then, leaning on the women next to her for support, but when she spoke her voice was as clear and strong as ever. ‘I did say so. Shona, you were there, and Mairhi too.’ She looked around, and both of them nodded. ‘It won’t do, Aly.’ She spoke directly to him, just as she had done after the birth of the child; but she did not shame him by reminding him of that now. Even so, he had gone too far to back down. Jessie screamed as he dragged at her arm again, and then Mairhi was on her feet and facing him.

  It might have been only a trick of the firelight, but she seemed to be smiling. She reached out a hand towards him, and he let go of Jessie and stumbled backwards as though he had been burned. Children scrambled out from underfoot, and men made way for him. None tried to hold him back. A wild gust of wind blew in as he threw open the door, scattering smoke and sparks from the fire, and then he was gone.

  Children began to wail again, but no-one else spoke. Most people looked away, but Jessie was on her feet now, not hiding her face among the women. She had hold of Mairhi’s hand. She said into the silence, ‘I won’t go back with him. I’m not going back, ever.’

  ‘Well said, Jessie!’ That was Shona, standing among the men and wielding the ale-jug like a weapon, daring any of them to challenge her.

  Bridie said, more quietly, ‘Not before time,’ and then sank down again as though the effort had taken all her strength.

  Somewhere among the women, a new song began, a rowing song with a strong beat. The sound swelled as others took it up, growing deeper and louder as, one by one, the men joined in. At Donald’s side, Shona sang out, facing Andrew Bain across the table. Andrew shook his head, but Euan, her husband, raised his ale-mug to her. And over by the fire, Mairhi took Jessie by both hands and began to dance, slowly at first as Jessie hung back, laughing and crying all at once, and then whirling into a wild jig. Donald watched, enthralled, as others joined in. There was James dancing with Catriona, and Euan with Shona, and all the children capering around them.

  It seemed she could do anything, this woman, and where she led, they would follow. Donald waited until the dance began to slow, and when he caught her eye, like Euan, he raised his ale-mug and drank to her. Then the dance whirled her away, and he took up the rhythm with the others around him, beating time on the table and shouting encouragement. Euan joined in with his pipes again, a skirling reel that seemed to lift the dancers off their feet and set them flying. Even the old ones were clapping and swaying in time; and then suddenly there was a little island of quiet around him, as Mairhi came to a standstill right in front of him, and held out her hand.

  He started to shake his head. He never danced, everyone knew it – not since he was a child and everyone had laughed when someone tripped him up. But at the same time he was standing up, reaching out to take her hand, and other people moved out of the way. As soon as they were clear of the table she took both his hands, just as she had done with Jessie, and he held her gaze and let himself be swept into the reel. At the edge of his awareness, people were cheering and shouting encouragement, but for Donald there was only Mairhi, leading him surefooted through the throng, turning around and around, shining-eyed and laughing for joy.

  47

  ‘Well, what are we going to do? We can’t keep them.’ Donald faced Bridie across the table, keeping his voice low. Shona had taken the children home with her, but Jessie refused to be parted from Mairhi, and they were asleep now in the bedroom. Donald had slept on the floor.

  ‘I don’t know, Donald.’ In the morning light, Bridie looked drawn. ‘But she can’t go back, and she can’t stay in their cottage without him. None of the children is old enough to work. She’s got no other family. I haven’t an answer.’

  He stood up. ‘How did it come to this? Why can’t the Bains look after their own?’

  She had no answer to that either, only looked down at her hands, clasped around a mug of tea. He said, ‘I have to get down to the boat. We can’t miss this tide, and Rennie’s still not back.’

  ‘I doubt we’ll be seeing him for a while, now,’ said Bridie. ‘The word is, he’s courting a lassie down the coast.’

  ‘I know what the word is. But he’ll never settle to it. You know Rennie. And Hugh can’t work so long just now, with his back the way it is. It’s just me and James with Hugh, today.’

  She smiled, then. ‘On you go, now. We’ll be down later.’

  Out in the freshening wind, he felt taller, bigger. Even burdened down with newly mended nets, facing a long, hard day, that tingling aliveness had not left him. She was magnificent! In his mind’s eye, he saw again the wild dance, the way she had looked at Aly. For all the problems it might bring, he would not choose to undo one second of it.

  The boat, though – that was another matter. He and James worked well together, that was true. They’d be hard pushed today, but he realised that he was looking forward to it, and smiled. So this was what she’d brought him to! He slowed a little as he passed by the Bains’ cottage, but there was no sign of life. Now the harbour was in sight, and there was James, already aboard.

  ‘Is Hugh not with you?’

  James grimaced. ‘He could barely move this morning. Catriona sent me packing. We’ll just have to manage somehow.’

  ‘Is there no-one else we can call on? I won’t go out with just the two of us, a day like this. It’s too big a risk.’

  ‘Then we don’t go at all. Every man and boy who can stand will be out today. Most of them are out already.’ James glanced along the almost empty harbour. ‘We could take the rowboat, maybe.’

  Donald shook his head. ‘Might as well save our strength; we’d never catch enough to be worth the effort.’ He paused. ‘Listen. There is one who might come, but I don’t think you’ll like it.’

  James frowned. ‘Who would that be, then?’

  ‘If you say no, that’ll be the end of it. There’s no room on the boat for that sort of trouble.’ Donald cleared his throat. ‘It’s Aly Bain.’

  48

  ‘But you can’t abide the man!’ James put down the rope he was holding and stared at Donald. ‘And he’s never had a good word to say for you, even before … He’d never come! Not with us. Not with you, anyhow. He won’t even set foot on a boat since … well…’ He let the wind take his next words. ‘And would you want to work with him?’

  Donald held out a hand, and James helped him aboard; a simple gesture that they did now, without thinking, almost every day. They stood face to face on deck.

  ‘Things are different now,’ Donald said slowly. ‘Those children will starve if he’s not working. What Jessie did last night, that was because of Mairhi. And the other thing, too; that happened because of her. The man’s lost everything, and everyone saw. Even his own brothers have had enough of him. There’s no coming back from all that, unless someone gives him a helping hand.’

  James looked steadily at him. ‘And you’d do that for Aly Bain?’

  Donald took a deep breath. ‘I would. But only if you’re willing.’

  ‘Well, now. We work well together, you and I; and that’s no small thing, out there. I’d be sorry to lose that. But we do need another man.’ James paused, thinking. ‘I’ve a notion that working with his brothers doesn’t bring out the best in him.’

  Donald nodded. In his mind’s eye, he saw the Bain brothers long ago on the strand, tossing a ball to and fro between them, and their father joining in. He’d throw the ball hard, and laugh when it hit one of them,
or went high over their heads. The two elder boys tried to please him, braving it out when they hurt themselves, and mocking each other’s mistakes. And all of them took it out on Aly, the youngest and smallest, until he broke down in tears and ran away, followed by their taunts. Donald, watching from a safe distance, had thought only of his own loss. He had no father to play with, no brothers or sisters to keep him company. And then Aly, stumbling up the path to the harbour, had come upon him.

  At the time, after Aly had kicked over the sand he was building in and scattered the shells he’d gathered, it had just been one more blow from an unkind world. But now, he thought he understood.

  ‘It’s not good for a man to lose his pride like that. Maybe with us, he’d get a fresh chance.’

  ‘I suppose we all deserve that. Even Aly Bain. Well, who am I to stand in the way?’ James laughed. ‘I never thought I’d see the day. And if we can get him out on the water, that’ll be another thing worth seeing. But we’d better get a move on, or we won’t get out at all today.’

  ‘I’ll go. Better just me.’ And before he could change his mind, Donald was back on dry land and walking up the hill towards the harbour cottages. He could feel James’ eyes on him, but he did not look back. The thing had to be done now, or not at all.

  When he came to the Bains’ cottage, the door was still closed. Donald raised his hand and knocked, perhaps more loudly than he had intended. The men might all be out on the water, but women and children were about, and some had already come out to watch. It could not be helped. There was no answer, so he knocked again, and finally he pushed the door open.

  The wind whirled in, raising ash on the hearth. If Jessie’s housekeeping had improved since he had last been in this house, there was no evidence of it now. The place smelled stale, musty. As he hesitated on the threshold, the bedroom door scraped open, and Aly stood in the doorway. He stared for a moment, as though not recognising who it was. Then Donald saw that he did know, that he remembered everything about the night before, and that he would have to be the one to speak first.

  No turning back now. ‘Aly,’ he said.

  Still the other man did not speak. Donald took a step or two into the room, closing the door behind him. The last thing Aly needed was more witnesses.

  ‘It’s a fine, fresh morning.’ What could he possibly say? Aly made a small noise in his throat, and Donald took this for some kind of acknowledgment. ‘Listen,’ he said, and took another step forward; ‘I’ve work for you, if you want it.’

  Aly laughed then, and it was not a joyful sound. ‘Get lost,’ he said.

  This, at least, was familiar territory. And as usual – as though anything could be usual about this moment – Donald ignored the words. ‘We need another man on the boat today. Will you come?’ His hands were curled into tight fists. Slowly, deliberately, he opened them. Another step, palms open. Everything in his body was crying out against it, but as he got to within a few feet, it came to him that he was the taller and stronger of the two. Perhaps he always had been.

  Aly darted a sidelong look at him, like a lizard testing the air with its tongue. ‘I can go on our own boat if I want. Why would I want to go with you?’

  Donald shrugged, uncurled his hands again. ‘Andrew’s already out of harbour. You need to be working, to put food in the mouths of your children. Come out with us. The fish are still running, and there’s more than we can handle.’

  Aly looked away. ‘I don’t fish, now. I’ll be away down the coast soon, find work there. Then you’ll be rid of me.’

  ‘Or you could stay and look after your own. Come out with us.’

  Aly spat into the ashes. ‘I don’t fish,’ he said again.

  ‘You’ll be fine with us,’ said Donald. It was just words, just something to say, but the effect on Aly was startling. His eyes widened.

  ‘Will I so?’ He stared, not at Donald but at some vision only he could see, and Donald felt the hairs on his neck rise. ‘I’ll be fine with you,’ he repeated, sing-song. ‘She looks after you, eh? Stay close to Macfarlane, you’ll be fine with him.’

  Now Donald was truly at a loss. For all he knew, it could even be true in some way – that Mairhi could keep him safe when he was at sea. He doubted it, though. Whatever it was she did, it worked on people very close to her, and no more than that. If anyone had ever found a way to charm the sea, he would have heard of it, surely. But what if Aly believed it? Would that be enough to get him back on board again?

  ‘Maybe she does,’ he said softly. ‘I wouldn’t know. But you’d be welcome to crew with us, if you’ll come.’ An idea came to him then, and he spoke without thinking. ‘But only if you let Jessie be.’

  Aly’s head came up, and Donald almost stepped back from the other man’s buffeting wind of rage and hatred. ‘Get out,’ he said, and somehow it was worse than a shout. ‘You – here in my own house! What more do you want? Take it all, why don’t you?’

  Donald had expected stinging words, ready fists; he’d thought he could deal with that. But this was something else, something as familiar as his own heartbeat. He stooped, and picked up a piece of oat straw from the unswept floor.

  ‘There’s this much between you and me,’ he said, holding it up. ‘I’ve no right to be laying down the law for you; none at all. But if you hurt Jessie, or the children, Mairhi will know. Think on that.’

  For a few more moments, neither man moved. Donald saw that Aly’s pride would not allow him to give in while he stood there.

  ‘We’re leaving on the tide,’ he said, and turned and went out, closing the door behind him. He had no word for the little group of children who waited outside, eager for more drama, but made his way straight back to the harbour.

  49

  ‘Almost ready,’ said James as he reached the boat. ‘Will he come?’

  ‘I can’t tell.’ Donald took a deep breath and shuddered. ‘Did I do right?’

  James laughed. ‘We’ll see. Not the crew I’d have chosen, but we’ll make the best of it.’ He stopped, looking directly at Donald. ‘You’re a better man than he is, you know that? You did well.’

  Donald looked down at the dry oat-stalk that he still held in his hand. He opened his fingers, and the wind snatched it away. James was watching him curiously.

  ‘Just those baskets to load, now.’

  They were almost done when James, looking back along the harbour, said, ‘Ah, now we’ll see.’ He held out a hand to Aly, saying only, ‘Watch your step.’ A few minutes later, they were on their way out to sea.

  As Bridie had said, just over a year ago, nothing stayed secret for long. By the time they made harbour again that evening, everyone seemed to know about the changes aboard the Macfarlane boat. No-one remarked on it, not out there in the open; that was not the way. But as soon as they were out of earshot, making their slow way homeward, Bridie said, ‘Well! You’ve given them all something to ponder tonight! So how was it, out on the water?’

  Donald walked on a few paces before answering. He looked sidelong at Mairhi and Jessie, trudging along with their burdens. ‘Oh, I daresay we’ll get used to each other,’ was all he said eventually.

  But later, when the babies were settled and Nancy had fallen asleep by the hearth, he got up to see to the beasts in the barn, and then stopped by the door. ‘Jessie?’ he said.

  Jessie looked up at him, surprised. ‘What’s the matter?’

  He came back into the room, and spoke softly, though there was no-one but his own family to overhear. ‘When I asked Aly to come aboard, I told him…’ Here his resolve almost failed him; he cleared his throat and tried again. ‘I made a condition. He’s not to hurt you and the bairns. He’s not to touch you, unless you wish it. Do you see?’

  Now all three women were staring at him. Nancy too, with her sure instinct for trouble, was awake, crouching by the fire like a wild creature, ready to flee. Then Jessie laughed. ‘And why would he listen to you, do you think?’

  The scorn in her eyes almost stung h
im into a sharp reply, but he only looked at her steadily until she dropped her gaze. Then he said, ‘Why would he, indeed? Though he took orders from me well enough today.’ He stopped, and cleared his throat again. ‘Mairhi?’

  From across the room where she was tending to the fire, she looked up at him.

  Donald said, ‘It’s you he fears. He came out with me today because he thinks you protect the boat. And if he harms Jessie or the children, he thinks you’ll be after him. And I let him think it.’ He waited a heartbeat or two, but she made no answer. No-one spoke, or moved at all. ‘Did I do the right thing?’ he asked.

  Nancy sprang up and ran, not to her mother, but to Mairhi. ‘You will, won’t you? If he hurts us, you’ll punish him! But we don’t want to go back. He can’t make us! We’ll stay here, with you.’

  Throughout all of this, Bridie had not moved, but now she lifted her hands a little, and let them fall again. Donald had never seen her look so weary. For the first time that he could remember, he found himself speaking for her, rather than the other way round.

  ‘You can’t stay forever, Nancy. What about your brothers and sisters? And if your da makes a good crew member, he’ll be able to keep the roof over your heads and food on the table.’ But she only clutched at Mairhi, mutinous and utterly unconvinced. He could not blame her; he was far from convinced himself. Mairhi held her for a moment, gently stroking her hair, and then she let go and gave her a little push towards her mother.

  Jessie stood rigid, not laughing now. ‘You want us to go back, don’t you?’ Fists clenched, she turned on Bridie. ‘You said if I had another child, it would be the death of me. And you spoke up for me in front of everybody. How can I go back now, even if I wanted to?’

  Bridie raised her head. ‘Jessie Bain,’ she said, ‘I’ve taken you in, you and your children. I stood up for you against your husband, and that’s a thing I rarely do, at least not openly. There are ways to help women like you without tearing things apart, and God knows we’ve all tried. And you’ve thrown every one of them back at us, and so it’s come to this. So now, for once in your life, use the sense you were born with.’ She got up, pushing against the arms of the chair for support, and went over to Mairhi. Laying a hand on her shoulder, she went on. ‘Don’t you see? It doesn’t matter what Mairhi can or can’t do to protect you, or Donald, or anyone else, come to that. But it does matter that your miserable excuse for a husband thinks she can. And if that’s the only thing that can make him behave as a man should, then so be it. Mairhi, my dear, I bless the day you came to us!’