by Leah Fleming
She was glad when he was transferred back to the mainland transport depot now that there was a build-up of troops going south. Ken wanted to be sent over to France but his bouts of asthmatic wheezing spoilt any chance of an overseas posting. Phetray was as abroad as he was going to get. As their marriage failed so his wheezing seemed to be getting worse.
The gaps between his leave visits grew from cracks into chasms. Each time he returned hoping for some miracle when he stormed her fortress, but it was as if her whole body froze and tightened against him; her teeth were clenched as he tried to approach her with a kiss even, his breath reeking of whisky and desperation. If only there was someone whom she could confide in, but any whisper of physical contact between a man and woman however married was not a subject even to be discussed with the doctor.
There was no one at the canteen whom she felt she could talk to. The girls were cheery conscripts out for a good time and a laugh. She was not part of their gang. It was such a terrible shame and she felt such a failure.
Sometimes after another night of arguments she rose early in the darkness and took herself to Ardnag Point, to the rocks that had dashed out Agnes’s life. If only she had the courage to throw herself into the sea. They said that drowning was quick. What was there to live for here?
She cried out to the moon and the water. Is this my punishment for a hasty marriage to a man who I cannot love? What am I to do? There was never any answer but sighs from the sea.
Ken never took her back to Wigan on leave. The very thought of that house and those sisters with their prying eyes made her shiver.
Sometimes he would sneer at her, ‘I think you wanted out of this dreary place. That’s why you married me, isn’t it? You just wanted some poor sucker to whisk you away on a white horse to his palace, but you were too posh for Wigan. My mam was right about you. All you’re after is a meal ticket! Well you and your mother can rot here for eternity for all I care. I’ve had about enough of this mullarky. Believe me there are plenty of lassies willing and able to dance on my arm. We should never have wed.’
His last letter had stung her to the core, for in some ways every one of his words was bruising and honest.
Ken Broddick was a comforting arm at first, a kind young man now turned bitter by her coldness. If only she was stronger. There must be something dreadfully wrong with her. Perhaps the Macfees were cursed indeed. It was all her fault that their lovemaking was a disaster, and she deserved his anger.
Now in the exciting aftermath of D-Day and the slow crawl of the Allies across Europe, the war was at last on the turn. The forces of the Coastal Command were already deployed elsewhere and winding down the aerodrome’s operations. The sorties still went out each day to record the Atlantic weather but the whole base was contracting.
Soon Phetray would return to its sleepy ways and Minn would find herself washed up on the shore, out of work and only half married. Even Uncle Niall against all the odds had survived. He would return to his armchair by the fireside. The future was looking bleak. Perhaps she should make one more effort to revive their marriage, seek help from the doctor and try to make the best of her lot.
Ken had tried his best after all, now it was her turn. Divorce was out of the question.
Minn wrote one last conciliatory letter pleading with him to come back one more time and promised to talk over her difficulty with old Doctor Murray, however embarrassing she would find it.
She promised to try to please him and be a good wife. There must be a future for them on the mainland away from sad memories, she argued. His reply was prompt and more hopeful. He gave her the date for his next leave.
Minn dressed carefully in her tweed suit and best hat on that fine October morning when she would go down to the harbour and wave the ship such a welcome home.
At first the SS Hebrides bobbed over the horizon like a puff of smoke. Soon it was looming larger, lurching over the rough water, and the usual crowd gathered with trucks and carts while the seagulls screeched and the wind howled and tore at her skirt, whipping her hat up and away across the harbour. The troops were hanging over the side, air force blue with a sprinkling of khaki and navy waving at anything that moved and laughing as she chased her hat right into a puddle.
Minn’s heart was thudding at the thought of Ken’s arrival. She must be warm and generous. He had gone out of his way to return to her. He hated the sea and would be queasy with the motion of the steamer ploughing through the waves. The men were coming down the gangplank and then she saw him and her heart stopped in horror.
*
He was walking down the gangplank, tall and suntanned. Time stood still as he strode nearer and nearer, grinning; her heart was bursting at the sight of him. She had forgotten how tall Ewan was, how dark and how handsome. He was coming towards her, his cap plonked jauntily on the back of his head. How many times had she dreamt of this moment, cried in her dreams for this moment, prayed for this moment.
Ewan had come back from the dead. Minn’s eyes were wide with terror, as if she had seen a ghost.
‘Minn, my darling Minn… How could you be waiting for me? I’ve dreamt of this day for so long!’ Ewan flung down his kit bag and raced towards her, lifting her up and flinging her around and round again.
‘Dearest heart, I’m home at long last… I wanted to surprise you all but the news had flown before me… Minn! Let me look at you. You’ve no idea how good it is to see you… dear heart.’
Minn stepped back dizzy. ‘Ewan! Ewan dubh… Oh, Ewan, we thought you were dead but you’re alive. Oh God, you’re alive! They wrote to your parents. I saw the letter. It’s nearly two years since we heard from you. Oh, Ewan, why have you come back now and not a word from you for two years?’ Minn edged away from him with tears streaming down her face, bumping right into Ken, who was hurrying to rescue her from the unwanted attentions of some randy sailor.
‘Is this chap bothering you, love?’ Ken had seen all the action from the gangplank.
‘No, This is Ewan… my old friend Ewan dubh, returned from the dead. I’m sorry, Ewan Mackinnon… this is Sergeant Kenneth Broddick, my husband,’ she said, spitting out each syllable slowly.
The two men eyed each other up warily. ‘Not Mackinnon, the dead fiancé?’ said Ken, and Minn nodded, not able to look either of them in the face. ‘Oh dearie me, sorry old chap, tough luck! You may have been the old boyfriend, Lieutenant, but she’s my wife now so kindly keep your mitts off her in future. I’m the one that does the handling of her.’
Ken was staking his claim and Minn saw Ewan blanch as his words struck home, his dark eyes flitting to hers for confirmation.
‘It’s true,’ said Minn wearily. ‘We’ve been married over a year. I was told you drowned at sea and there was no hope. I’m sorry. Ask your father, or did they know all along of your coming?’
‘It was a rush jobbie.’ Ewan shook his head, spluttering, hardly able to take in her words. ‘I thought I’d give you all a surprise. I thought you all knew I was holed up in France behind enemy lines. The resistance said a message would get through. It obviously didn’t. I’m so sorry.’ There was an awkward silence.
Minn spoke softly seeing his distress. ‘I don’t know what to say. You’ve been hidden all this time? How could you be so cruel not to send word and put us out of our misery? Do you expect us to believe that no one knew you were alive? Oh, Ewan… there’s nothing to be done, is there? What can I say? You’ll have to excuse us now, Ken’s on short leave. We’ve a lot to catch up on too. I’m sorry, Ewan but two years is too long for silence.’
Minn dared not look up at him, sensing the shock and hurt in his voice. This was all too much for her mind to take in and she felt faint. All the old feelings were roaring through her body like a flood tide. He was so close but so utterly out of reach now.
‘We’re glad that you are safe, of course. It’s a pity no one thought to inform your folks…’ she muttered, holding on to Ken’s arm to stop her legs from collapsing beneath her. He gr
abbed her round the waist, steering her away from the crowds who were gathering to congratulate the minister’s son on his safe return.
She dared not look back, sickened by the cruel fate that had torn them apart, stumbling across the harbour grass towards the welcome waiting at the cottage door, feeling sick to the stomach. You didn’t wait for him and it serves you right, cried her heart!
*
‘The whole of Kilphetrish is cracking with the news o’ the minister’s son. There’s to be a service of thanksgiving. ’Tis a pity sure it is… and you not able to welcome him,’ said her mother with a shrug. ‘You canna milk the coo and sup its milk, that’s for sure… Still what’s done is done.’
Minn could not concentrate on anything now for Ewan’s accusing eyes kept flashing into her mind. All she knew was that they must speak again in private. She had to explain her actions to him in private.
It was all so unfair, she cried. If only she hadn’t written to Ken begging him to come one more time.
Ken was infuriating, trying to pretend that nothing momentous had happened, that Minn had no feelings for the sailor and could carry on as if she hadn’t been swung in his arms. To him it was simple, she had promised to be his proper wife. But now it was worse than ever.
There was no hiding the joy when the maid from the manse brought a letter requesting that Ewan should have a private meeting with Minn, but Ken was furious.
‘I’m not letting my wife be seen out alone with another man. It’s not on, our Minn. I know he was your fella and him being a prisoner an all, but Lord love a duck! It’s just not cricket. He just can’t take up where he left off!’ Ken was studying the note brought by the minister’s maid.
For once Mother stepped in to defend this unusual action. ‘Now, laddie, the poor man was away at the war. It’s no his fault his messages got all twixted up, now is it? The ways o’ the Almighty is strange in our eyes! They two have things to be explaining to each other. It is said he’s to away abroad again and the minister has organized this meeting so there’s no saying against it. I shall take ma knitting and walk with them so none of you can say they were up to no good, now can they?’
Ken shook his head, unconvinced. ‘I suppose so, but we’re not wasting another precious leave in argy-bargy. An hour… it can all be said in an hour, surely, and then I want you home!’ he ordered as if his wife was his corporal.
*
Ewan and Minn stood side by side at the end of the harbour jetty looking out to sea while Eilidh Macfee sat on the wooden memorial bench knitting socks on number three needles, in sight but out of earshot of the couple.
‘I had to see you, one more time, to know you’re happy in your new life.’ Ewan spoke formally as if he was talking to a stranger.
Minn was searching for an honest reply but the words were choking in her throat. ‘I waited for a year. I knew in my heart that you weren’t dead. I was the only one who wouldn’t give up hope, but your father… I wouldn’t believe what I was told, not for many months.
‘Life goes on, your father preached to me over and over again, so I took a chance with Ken.’
‘Has he made you happy? Your eyes look lifeless and sad to me.’ Ewan was peering into them closely so Minn lowered her gaze.
‘Things could be better. This surprise hasn’t helped either of us. Ken is jealous.’
‘I’ll no be hanging around for long. I’m going overseas again. Now that… Oh, Minn! If only my message had got through. What a mess! All those broken promises, how I’ve let you all down.’ He was trying to explain about his escapes but she was not taking any of it in.
Minn stayed silent then whispered, ‘At least your mother must be dancing with joy at the sight of you. She has not been a well woman since you were gone.’
‘Not that you’d notice. She can’t believe it’s me. She holds back from the touching of me. And while I thought we’d be standing at the pulpit together, you and I, my own father married you off to a Sassenach! If only…’ Ewan punched the air with his fist.
‘If only doesn’t help any of us, Ewan. I don’t know what to say. This is agony for me too.’
‘Why?’
‘You know why. To have you so close and know we’ll have to part soon, never to kiss or touch as we used to do. I’m going to have to walk away from you back to Mother, but I just can’t bear the thought of it.’ She was trying not to cry.
‘I asked if you were happy. I know now you’re not. You don’t love that Ken and I can’t bear to think of his hands over you in the bed. It’s not right,’ he said.
‘No it’s not right and it’s never been right between us, not ever. I hate it but I’m married now and that’s that. We’ll just have to make the best of it somehow. The sooner you’re away from Phetray, the sooner both of us can start afresh and leave these yearnings behind us. Our time’s nearly up. Mother is waving.’
‘Let her wait! I’m so sorry, mo ghaoil.’ Ewan turned again and stared her full in the face. ‘I’ve not given up hope yet. If you need me, you know where you’ll be finding me. There must be something we can do to ease this hurting.’
‘There’s nothing, Ewan, not now, not ever. It’s all too late, my dear heart. How can I be walking away from you, but I must. Wherever you go you’ll never be out of my heart, I promise. It’s the only promise I can keep for you. Bye the now.’ Minn turned from his face to speed back to the Tulloch Bar and the bench where her mother rose up to greet her.
‘Well?’
‘Well what? All that’s needed to be said has been said. Time to go before Ken is champing at the bit, thinking we’ve eloped to Gretna Green on the high tide. Come on, there’s nothing here now.’ Minn turned her face into the wind, trying not to cry. In truth she didn’t care a jot what her husband was thinking, her heart was dead and she would never care for anyone again.
Nine
Beach of the singing winds
‘So what did you say to the sailor? Told him he’d missed the boat?’ Ken whispered, leaning over Minn in the iron bed that creaked with every move.
Minn turned her back on him. ‘I told him that I was married and what’s past is past. What else do you expect me to say?’ She hunched the thin blankets over her head but Ken was restless.
‘Did he tell you he loved you? Do you still love him? I have to know!’
‘What’s the point?’ Minn muttered, wanting to blot out his face and his smell and his gloating. Ken yanked back the bed covers.
‘I’m sick of you turning your back on me. Look at me when I’m talking to you!’
Minn could smell the whisky on his stale breath. ‘There’s nothing left to say, is there?’
Ken pulled her roughly. ‘Oh yes there is. I’m not putting up with this state of affairs any longer. There’s more than one way to skin a rabbit. On your back… Open your legs. I’ll show you whose head of this household. No more delay tactics, I’m sick of your tricks,’ he threatened, pushing her hard into the mattress.
‘Shush! Mother will hear! I can’t, you know I can’t…’
‘Shut yer bleeding mouth! I don’t care if the whole of bloody Phetray hears what’s happening in this bed. Open your legs or do I have to prise them open with my fists, you whore! I’m sick of rubbing off on you like some tuppenny tart. You’re my wife, for God’s sake. How will we ever get a kiddie with this palaver?’
‘I don’t want a bairn,’ she whispered, struggling against him in the darkness.
Ken slapped her head. ‘I’m sick of what you want and don’t want. Shut up, open your legs or I’ll ram it up your backside good and proper.’ He was pinning her down underneath him, shoving his hand on her face, twisting it into the pillow until she could hardly breathe.
She bit his fingers and he yelled. ‘You bitch! If it’s a fight you want… You’ve asked for it now. There’s more than one hole down there and you can scream for your mammy all you like. She won’t interfere if she knows what’s good for her…’
‘No, please,’ whispered
Minn limp with exhaustion. ‘I’ll try. Be gentle with me, but it hurts so, Ken.’
This time he held her fast forcing himself inside, thrusting himself over and over as she struggled against the burning pain and humiliation. ‘Think about lover boy… if it makes you feel any better. I’m giving you one for him!’ Ken was panting, excited by his power.
‘No! Stop! It really hurts!’ Minn could not move from the agony as he finally broke into her, spilling himself with relief.
‘There! That’s what you’ve wanted all along, a bit of force. That’s what you ladies like. We’ll have to do that again to teach you a lesson.’
Minn turned her face from him, weeping into the bolster. The pain was like a burning fire. Only over her dead body would she let him do that to her again. Soon he was snoring evenly and she slipped from the covers to wipe off the blood and the mess.
Never in her life had she felt so dirty and used, so shocked by this side of her husband. Her stomach wanted to throw up at the thought of what he had just done to her. For a second she was numbed and unbelieving but as the shock subsided a cold fury fired her resolve.
For a second she saw the heavy fire irons by the hearth and wondered if she could smash them over his head, but her surge of rage was tempered with reality. That would be a hanging offence. Ken was not worth dying for.
She raked the fire for a glimmer of warmth and searched for a thick plaid shawl, gumboots and an old mackintosh. She must get out of the house away from the smell of him and cleanse away the dirt of the night. He had raped her like an animal and she hated him now. Her tormented spirit needed fresh air and pure water to wash away his soiling.
How she wished she had the courage to throw stones at Ewan’s window at the manse and call him to her defence, but this was her secret shame and punishment. ‘How can I live after this? What did I do to deserve this?’ she sobbed.
Only thoughts of Ewan kept her sane as she walked through grass in the early light, her nightdress soaked in the dew. ‘I have to see him again. I can’t sleep for the want of him,’ she whispered to herself.