‘Ach, Ally could always kill one of his sheep,’ Wee Ruari said offhandedly. ‘Will I get my jersey now? It is what you say is Christmas, isn’t it?’
‘It is indeed, tomorrow,’ she confirmed, pleased that he had remembered. ‘And you’ll get your jersey fresh to put on in the morning. You’d best take a wash tonight seeing there’s a good fire.’
‘Will it need to be a tub wash?’ he asked sheepishly.
‘Seeing it’s Christmas,’ she soothed. ‘I think you need it.’
‘I’ll not be needing to take another for Hogmanay?’ he demanded combatively.
‘No, no, I reckon this one will do for you Until the sea gets warm enough for you to go into it.’
Grumpily, he dragged the half wooden tub from out the back, set it in front of the fire and sat watching disapprovingly as she tipped hot and then cold water into it. His complaint against taking tub washes, even once a year was, he said, because it made him feel different from all the other children he knew. Clachan scholars would have been scornful if they’d heard he had to submit to an annual tub wash; he himself suspected she was trying to make him too English in his habits. However, when she indicated that the water was at the right temperature, he got into the tub quickly and, crouching down, commanded her to stand by with a towel so that he could nip out instantly at the first sound of Jamie coming. His ablutions were done swiftly and splashily but thoroughly arid he was already into his warmed nightshirt before Jamie came into the kitchen.
‘It looks as if it’s been a wet night,’ Jamie observed, glancing at the floor.
‘I’ve had my tub wash,’ Wee Ruari told him. ‘Now will you measure me against the door frame to see how much I’ve grown?’
‘I doubt you will have grown since you were last here for the potato lifting. More likely you will have been smallened by the muck that’s washed off you. But surely I’ll mark your height if that’s what you want.’
‘Mam says she thinks I’ve grown,’ insisted Wee Ruari.
Jamie studied the measurements on the doorframe. ‘My! I believe she’s right,’ he asserted. ‘Are you sure the Widow Fraser isn’t after putting manure in your boots every morning to make you grow?’
Wee Ruari shook his head in solemn denial. ‘No, it’s not manure she uses, it’s the stuff she gathers on the moors to wash my stockings. She reckons it makes everything grow. Even her hens lay bigger eggs than anyone else’s.’
‘Aye well, we’ll take her word for that,’ Jamie allowed.
Kirsty slid hot potato scones off the girdle onto a wooden slab, along with a chunk of butter and a bowl of crowdie. She brewed a pot of tea and, after an enquiring glance at Jamie, filled his mug. She filled another one for herself and a mug of milk for her son. Neither of them seemed to be in their usual hurry to eat.
‘Nobody interested in food?’ she asked.
‘Not so,’ said Jamie at the end of a long yawn. He got up, stretched himself and then sat down again. ‘I’ll take a scone just, and then I’ll maybe go and lay me down for a wee whiley,’ and continued, ‘Euan Ally’s Uncle Lachy would have us go up to his house for a Hogmanay dram and then his aunty put out a kind of crusty bun and told us we must eat it and then we had to have another dram to wash it down and then the shepherd arrived with his bottle. Ach! you know the way things take on just,’ he explained. ‘I reckon I was ready for a lie down well before we left Clachan.’
Kirsty smiled understanding. ‘I’m thinking I’ll maybe take this cup of tea just and then I’ll be making for my own bed. Ill have a world of work to do tomorrow.’ She glanced enquiringly at her son.
‘What about bed now?’ she urged, and as he raised his head in dazed enquiry, pursued. ‘Are you no hearing Jamie saying he’s away to his bed?’
There came a grunted reply. Since Euan Ally and Enac had settled in their ‘Castle’, Wee Ruari had proudly announced he was going to sleep in Jamie’s bedroom; he seemed to think it made him more grown up. He stood up and stretched as Jamie had done, mumbled a sleepy ‘Oidhche mhath’ and lumbered off in Jamie’s wake.
Kirsty was left alone to finish wrapping her son’s presents ready for the morning. Satisfied, she finished her tea, turned down the lamp and took it into her own bedroom.
Before the dawn the snow had come, falling meekly it seemed, as if offering contrition for the savage spell of weather that had preceded it. Kirsty awoke to a white and silent world. She could see a few identifiable rabbit imprints near the house but the snow near the hen-house appeared undisturbed and she guessed the hens, or maybe only the cockerel which always led them out, had been reluctant to leave the shelter of the shed. Instead of the morning assembly of speculative hoodies there were only one or two birds stationed on the tops of the hay and corn stacks overlooking the feeding area and ready to swoop the moment they espied the possibility of food. Shivering, she encouraged the still hot ash in the kitchen grate to flames and with the aid of bellows and a pail of dry peats soon had two big kettles beginning to steam promisingly.
Pulling on thick stockings and gumboots she then tied an ancient overcoat over her thick homespun skirt with a length of rope, crammed on her ancient black beret, shrunken now after many drenchings, and pulled it down well over her ears. Knowing there was a spade handy within reach of the door, she set out to clear the snow so as to be able to feed the hens. It seemed that it was only a moment later that she heard a shout and turned to see Wee Ruari, barefooted and wearing only an old jacket over his nightshirt, shuffling hastily after her and exclaiming delightedly as he gathered handfuls of snow to throw at her. Lightly reproving him for his bare feet she aimed handfuls back in his direction. He responded eagerly, his cheeks glowing fiery red, his laughter seeming to invigorate the morning.
‘I’m going to make a big, big snowball and throw it at Jamie to wake him from his bed,’ he gloated excitedly.
‘You’d best get well out of his way first,’ she cautioned as he ran back to the house.
She’d finished feeding the hens before Jamie came out propelling a protesting Wee Ruari by the scruff of his neck and the seat of his pants. She noted with satisfaction that her son now wore boots and stockings.
‘Jamie’s going to make me a slidey,’ he cried exultantly as he was hustled towards the barn where there was always a stack of driftwood and old fish boxes.
‘You’ll both need to come and take your porridge first,’ she stipulated. She was not expecting them to comply but they were back and eager for breakfast within a surprisingly short time.
‘My slidey is ready,’ Wee Ruari announced between eager gulps of porridge. ‘Jamie says it can be a Christmas present from him like I get from you. Will I get my new jersey now and will I bring in my new slidey to show you?’
‘No, you will not bring your slidey indoors,’ Jamie interrupted firmly. ‘Slideys are not for indoors.’
‘I’ll come outside and take a look at it directly,’ Kirsty was quick to console. ‘And you’ll get your new jersey as soon as you’re back from telling Euan Ally and Enac that they’re to be sure to come ceilidhing this evening and share our Christmas feast. That is the time you will be getting your presents.’
She looked at Jamie. ‘I will be best pleased if he will be going along with you,’ she said.
Jamie nodded. ‘He can be coming along with me to the cows first,’ he agreed.
‘I can take my slidey,’ offered Wee Ruari immediately. ‘They’ll maybe wish to ride back on it like those people on the card you got from the English couple.’
‘No, you will not take your slidey,’ said Jamie, stifling the expected protest by saying, ‘Even if they would like a ride, it would not stand their weight and you yourself would not be strong enough to drag it over the moorland. It is best left here till we get back.’ He pulled an oilskin over his jacket.
‘Come on now. Let’s be away,’ he commanded hurriedly. ‘I’m thinking there’s more snow to come shortly and the shepherd over in Clachan was saying he reckons there’s a d
eal of it back of the hills waiting for wind or darkness to unload it on us.’ Taking a cromach from beside the door he and Wee Ruari went trudging companionably through the snow.
Kirsty had of course realised that Euan Ally and Enac were likely to be just as unfamiliar with Christmas as she herself had once been and indeed as Jamie had been. Jamie, however, had become progressively more tolerant of, if not partial to, the relatively small celebration she and Wee Ruari had managed to contrive each year. She hoped perhaps Euan Ally and Enac would become equally tolerant. She’d mentioned nothing about Christmas to Enac, but one day when Euan Ally had called in and had found her involved in putting the first icing on the cake he’d taxed her, almost accusingly, ‘It’s way past time for you to be doing that surely? Wee Ruari’s birthday was a while ago, surely.’
He was accustomed to seeing her ice cakes for her son’s birthday each year but, as he’d always managed to be with his folks in Clachan for the Hogmanay period, he had never before spent Christmas on Westisle.
‘This one’s for Christmas,’ she’d explained, and in answer to his baffled look she’d told him, ‘It’s a week before Hogmanay just, but it’s an English festival. I believe they have special church services and carol singers go round to the houses and then there’s feastings with turkey and something like our black bun but they call it Christmas pudding. They have a cake and the children get presents from someone dressed up and called Father Christmas and they have parties in their houses and a tree decorated with baubles.’
He’d still looked puzzled. ‘What like of parties?’ he’d asked. ‘Are they as good as our Halloween with dancing and such?’
‘I wouldn’t know; I’ve never been to one myself,’ Kirsty admitted, ‘but the shops were getting to take notice of some kind of event round about that time, but I thought it was coming up to Hogmanay just.’
‘I’ve never known of such a thing,’ he’d said disparagingly.
‘Indeed, I’d never even heard of it myself till I was in Glasgow and working in the boarding house. I got used to hearing the occasional English visitors telling one another about happenings at Christmas-time and it all sounded so much fun that after Wee Ruari was born I thought I’d try and tell him about what I’d heard of an English Christmas so he’d know what to expect if he ever went there.’
‘Ach, me and Enac have never been brought up to such things,’ Euan Ally had been unimpressed. ‘Halloween and the good times at Hogmanay were excitements enough for us and always have been.’ He pulled on his jacket. ‘I’d best be away then.’
Shortly before Christmas however, he’d arrived with a large cockerel already plucked and dumped it on the table. ‘Enac says I’m to tell you that should help with your Christmas feastings, and she’s making a good big dumpling ready for Hogmanay.’ He’d left so hastily that she’d hardly had time to thank him.
With Jamie and Wee Ruari out of the way, Kirsty started preparing the Christmas dinner. The cockerel went into the oven, a large turnip went into the biggest pan, the potatoes scrubbed of their covering of earth into another one. The black bun, mixed and wrapped in a well boiled flour sack joined the cockerel in the oven, and while they were cooking she brought in the greenery from outside. By the time Jamie and Wee Ruari had returned, the kitchen was already redolent with smells of fresh greenery and savoury food.
‘My! My! But this place is kind of shouting a welcome to anybody that’s near it. I believe the gulls themselves are wanting in for a bite,’ Jamie exclaimed as he divested himself of his oilskin.
Kirsty was adding the decorative coconut kisses to the icing on the cake at the time and Wee Ruari, arms on the table, was almost drooling at the sight.
‘And what of Enac and Euan Ally?’ she demanded.
‘Ach, they’d like fine to come,’ Jamie assured her. ‘I reckon they’ll be here in a wee whiley. Euan Ally was back from his sheep and Enac had only the hens to feed just.’
Wrestling with what seemed to be a deep pocket in his jacket, he triumphantly produced a bottle of whisky and then two bottles of Irn-Bru which he set on the table.
Kirsty’s brows rose in astonishment. ‘You didn’t get those out on the moor,’ she accused.
‘No indeed. I got them the last time I was on the mainland but I’ve managed to keep them from himself here till now.’ He tousled the boy’s hair as he spoke.
Wee Ruari squeaked with delight as he saw the bottles of Irn-Bru.
‘My but aren’t you the lucky one today?’ Kirsty complimented her son who had by now found the bag of shortbread shapes and was already opening it. ‘And that’s your new jersey,’ she said, handing him the package. He tore off the wrapping, and pulled the jersey over his head, puffing out his chest the better to display the pattern.
‘I’ll take a drink now, I’m awful thirsty,’ he said, reaching for a bottle of Irn-Bru.
‘No, no, not now,’ Kirsty reproved. ‘Best wait till Enac and Euan Ally get here.’
‘But Ally likes Irn-Bru,’ Wee Ruari protested. ‘He keeps it on the boat. He might be drinking it all if he gets the chance.’
‘Indeed he might so,’ Kirsty agreed easily. ‘But I doubt he’ll not drink much Irn-Bru seeing as there’s whisky,’ she soothed and, conscious of his disconsolate expression added, ‘And does not the Good Book say we must offer food and drink to the stranger within our house?’
Wee Ruari’s lips puckered. ‘Ally’s no stranger,’ he muttered.
Kirsty and Jamie exchanged covert glances.
‘Come you now and help me make a Christmas table to surprise Enac and Euan Ally,’ Kirsty cajoled. ‘You must mind that this will be the first time they will be having what we have come to call our Christmas dinner.’
When she arrived Enac enthusiastically praised the decorations, complimenting Kirsty on the attractiveness and the appetising smell of the food before joining Euan Ally and Wee Ruari at the table. Jamie opened the bottle of whisky along with one of the bottles of Irn-Bru for Wee Ruari and, as if by doing so he had uncorked a latent exhilaration, they were all raising their glasses and murmuring indiscriminate toasts before partaking of the grand but nevertheless mysterious feast several days before the more exciting time of Hogmanay.
After the meal had been cleared away, Euan Ally produced a mouth organ and began to play one or two Gaelic tunes; Enac, who had a lovely voice, encouraged them all to join her in singing. The evening steadily grew more festive.
‘Will you no come and dance a step or two with me?’ Enac urged Wee Ruari. A little reluctantly he rose and held her hand as they jigged about the kitchen where Jamie had moved chairs to clear a space, but the jigging had to cease when Enac rested her hands on her stomach and claimed she was too full of food to carry on.
‘Ach, it’s too full of babby you are, that’s what you’re saying,’ taunted Euan Ally.
‘Maybe, but I’ve eaten enough tonight to need to starve for a day or two,’ Enac retorted.
Kirsty was suddenly shocked into realising how heavily pregnant Enac was.
‘I reckon you’d best take a bed here for tonight and not go trudging back to the “Castle” through all that snow,’ she advised. ‘Maybe it will be a wee bit of a strain.’
‘No, no indeed. We’d best get back. The bairn will not be ready to come for the best part of a month and the walk back is maybe what I need just. Tapadh leat all the same.’
Kirsty glanced at Euan Ally seeking his approval. He seemed unperturbed. ‘Aye, right enough we’d best be getting back to our own bed,’ he supported. ‘If there’s snow to come as they say maybe we’ll not find it so easy to walk back in the morning.‘
‘Aye, that’s wise enough,’ put in Jamie. ‘Everyone’s reckoning on more snow and so long as you’ve got plenty peats to keep you warm you’ll be safe enough in your own place.’
‘And we’ll not go empty bellied,’ confirmed Enac. ‘We’ve got the venison, and there’s more than plenty of oatmeal and salt herring to tide us over a long while. And I’ve a
dumpling that’s big enough to feed both families for Hogmanay.’
‘Only if you’re sure you’ll be all right,’ Kirsty attempted to dissuade them.
‘Surely,’ said Euan Ally, helping Enac into her jacket and wrapping his own muffler round his neck. ‘She’ll likely be dancing her way back.’
‘I’ll be following you with a lantern the best part of the way,’ Jamie reassured. ‘I missed seeing one of the stirks earlier on so I want to make sure it’s still around.’
There was a chorus of ‘Oidhche mhaths’ as the three of them set off into the silent night.
Chapter Twelve
Hardly were the celebrations of Christmas and Hogmanay over than the end of Wee Ruari’s school holiday was signalled by the calendar and it was time for him to return to Clachan. Though Kirsty always felt a little dispirited when the time for her son’s departure loomed close, he at least never seemed in any way reluctant to return to school. Quite evidently he looked forward to rejoining the other scholars. Down at the shore she gave last minute cautions and reminders while Jamie coaxed the outboard motor into life and, in no time at all it seemed, the Katy was spearing out into the Sound to the accompaniment of a number of cheerful farewells and unconstrained waving.
Back at the house Kirsty flopped down on her chair in the kitchen and poured herself a cup of tea from the still warm pot. Only then did she let herself be plagued by a feeling of disquiet over her son’s future.
More than a year before Wee Ruari had been due to start school Jamie had once or twice hinted that the boy might not be getting enough opportunities to fraternise with other children. His hints had nudged her into an appraisal of the situation. She’d debated with herself whether or not she was perhaps being too possessive in keeping him alone on the island when he was clever enough to go to school but on reflection she had decided it would be as good for him to stay on Westisle until he’d reached the statutory age for starting formal education. He did meet other children she told herself, though her subconscious argued that it was only occasionally; such as when Clachan children had been allowed to accompany older relatives on a rabbit-shooting expedition, but then the seriousness of the event usually had meant that the youngsters were so well disciplined that any attempts at more than the most superficial acquaintance, were negated by overwhelming shyness on both sides.
A Breath of Autumn Page 11
