Megan shot daggers at her tormentor and a fresh argument might have sprung up between the two had not Phebie drawn to a sudden halt. ‘Wheesht you two, I’m hearing something funny back there. A noise like thunder. Can you hear it?’
They held their breath, listening. The hill peaks were covered in great fat rolls of yellow-grey cloud. They looked muffled, huddled into themselves in dour, silent secrecy. Shona frowned. ‘It’s as quiet as death up there on the hills. There’s no thunder about, just a wheen of juicy plump snowclouds,’ she chuckled, ‘it’s likely just the gurgling of my belly you’re hearing. Whenever I drink tea these days it makes a terrible noise going down, as if everything inside was being squeezed by this huge bairn I’m carrying.’
They had only taken a few more paces when, with one accord, they all stopped, ears straining, eyes searching the rapidly whitening road behind them. Sure enough, far in the distance there came a sound like an echo of drums and in a short while a large dark mound hove into view, growing closer and more discernible with every passing second.
‘It’s only Croynachan’s bull,’ Phebie said in some relief. ‘I wish Tom would see to these fences o’ his, that damt cratur’ breaks loose whenever the mood takes him. It’s no’ the first time he’s roamed the island. We’d better try and stop him before he reaches the village.’
The bull came closer, great swirls of stoorie snow churning round his rushing legs. He was a Department bull, given the fanciful name of Venus by Tom Johnston who had acquired him in the spring of that year. He was a brown and white shorthorn, a magnificent creature, young, highly strung, full of vigour and lust, but as easily frightened as a kitten.
Shona retired to the roadside with Ellie, leaving the others to wave their arms in the air and try to head the bull into a nearby field. When he saw the womenfolk in his path he skidded to a halt, nostrils dilated, saliva trailing from his frothing mouth to billow in glistening streamers over his massive neck.
Sporran took over then. He had no fear of farm animals, having come across many while accompanying Niall on his rounds, and with more enthusiasm than expertise he somehow guided the bull towards the gate which Shona was pushing open. The wet ground was treacherous, covered as it was with new snow. Her feet slithered away from her and she fell heavily, all the breath knocked from her lungs.
Venus forgotten, Phebie and Megan rushed to help Shona upright. The child within her gave a tremendous jolt and seemed to turn right over, at the same moment pain seared through her.
Megan saw the sudden pallor on Shona’s face. Annie’s cottage was nearby and to this abode Shona was led, thankfully to sink into the nearest chair the moment they were inside. Nobody ever locked their doors on Rhanna, least of all Annie and Torquill Andrew whose frequent ceilidhs made their home a very popular rendezvous.
‘I’ll be fine when I’ve had a rest,’ Shona tried to speak calmly but Was unable to stop gasping when another pain seized her. ‘You two get along, I’ll wait here with Ellie and follow on when I catch my breath.’
‘Indeed we will not,’ Phebie spoke briskly. ‘We’ll all catch our breath and then go on to the hall together. It isn’t far so we can all take our time.’
Outside the snow was falling thicker and faster; Venus lingered uneasily beside the still-open gate, Sporran lay watchfully outside the cottage; a growl like thunder sounded on the hill slopes. Shona placed her hands over her stomach as if to protect the life within. She didn’t say anything but she knew that she was going into the first stages of labour.
Chapter Three
‘By God, she’s a cold one right enough, eh, Mr James?’ Tam’s nose was as brightly red as the scarf he wore tightly wrapped round his neck, but he sounded cheery enough as he fell into step beside Mark James on the way to the village hall.
‘Indeed she is, Tam,’ agreed the minister who knew well enough by now that the islanders bestowed genders on almost everything under the sun.
‘Ay, she is angry the night.’ Canty Tam leered in his vacant fashion at the foaming sea, as if hoping to see the Green Uisge Hags riding to shore atop the crashing waves. ‘This is the sort o’ night the Hags like best, the sea all a-thunder and the snow smothering the land in ghost blankets.’
‘Ach, you’re havering, man! I’ve been out in every kind o’ sea and never yet seen a Uisge Hag.’ Hector the Boat spat scornfully into the snow but even so his watery blue eyes were uneasy as he strained them landwards. ‘Now, if you had told me the Snow Bochgans would come a-hauntin’ us I maybe would believe you. They have a rare old time to themselves in this weather.’
‘The Snow Bochgans?’ Canty Tam’s eyes slid abruptly from the sea to look in awe into the old fisherman’s whiskery walnut face.
‘Ay, you’ve surely heard o’ them? They’re ghostly pale hobgoblins who hide in caves in the hills, all dead and silent till the snow comes and wakes them up wi’ a frozen kiss. Then they come fleein’ and screechin’ down the braes, slitherin’ about and laughing.’ Hector was warming to the tale he had made up on the spur of the moment, and was well rewarded by the dawning of a new kind of horrified delight on Canty Tam’s face.
‘I suppose we just might get a visit from them this afternoon?’ Mark asked, keeping his face as serious as he could.
‘Oh ay,’ nodded Hector vigorously, ‘sometimes they come on their own but I’ve heard tell there’s a bloody great Ullabhiest lives up there in the caves wi’ them,’ Hector forgot to mind his language so carried away was he with his story, ‘if it takes it into its head it flees along beside them, a huge de’il o’ a beast wi’ bloodshot een and six horns on its head that it uses to shove boulders and trees out o’ its way . . .’
At that precise moment, Shona and the others appeared from Glen Fallan out of a curtain of snow that folded about their bodies and that of Croynachan’s bull trotting along behind them in a rather spirited fashion.
The pipe fell from Hector’s mouth, Canty Tam emitted a crazed screech and began scuttling towards the hall, yelling as he went, ‘The Snow Bochgans are comin’, the Snow Bochgans are comin’!’
Hector the Boat was frozen to the spot, hardly able to believe the evidence of his own eyes. ‘I only made it up, it’s no’ true, it’s no’,’ he muttered as if in prayer.
The minister and Tam said nothing. They saw at once that the womenfolk were in a state of distress and rushed to help.
‘Thank God,’ gasped Phebie, ‘I thought we were never going to make it.’
Quickly they explained what had happened and without more ado the two men took hold of Shona, and supporting her between them made off for the hall.
There came shouts on the Glen Fallan road. Tom Johnston and his son came pelting along, closely followed by Fergus and Davie McKinnon. Confused by all the noise, the bull let out a bellow, kicked up his heels and with head down slewed off in the direction of the bay leaving everyone far behind.
Supporting Shona, Tam and the minister staggered up the hall steps only to be met with the stout resistance of the closed door.
Canty Tam had done his work well. Everyone was well used to his tales of witches and monsters, but no one had ever seen him in such a state before and some of his terror had transferred itself to the more superstitious islanders.
‘Something must have scared the shat out o’ him,’ Todd the Shod stated rather fearfully and had then rushed to bolt the door.
When Megan and Phebie put their fists to the door and began banging on it, Canty Tam in a state of near hysteria screamed, ‘’Tis the Bochgans! They’re here, I tell you! Clawin’ and slaverin’ at the door to get in and kill us!’
Molly McDonald pursed her lips at such utter nonsense and made her way over to look from a window. ‘’Tis no’ the Bochgans, you silly man! ’Tis the doctor and the minister and Shona McLachlan. Near dyin’ they are by the look o’ them.’
Todd the Shod put his face next to Molly’s. ‘It’s the minister and the doctor right enough and poor wee Shona as white as the driven snow.’ Hi
s eyes roamed into the distance and saw Venus heading for the shore with the men from the glen fast on its heels. ‘God – it’s thon bloody great bull o’ Croynachan’s – it must have chased the lassies.’
There was a shamefaced stampede to open the door. The women catapulted inside, Shona and Phebie to collapse on hastily fetched chairs, Megan, with Ellie in her arms, to lean against the waiting ones of Mark James. For a moment she was glad to melt into their steadying embrace, then, as she felt his arms tightening around her, she pulled herself away to look round dazedly. ‘Is Shona alright? Bloody hell, that brute had to come along when it did! She’s hardly fit to walk, let alone run!’
There was a surprised raising of a few eyebrows. The new doctor had never been so publicly flustered before and never had she been known to swear.
Elspeth, lips folded in disapproval, dug her elbow into Kate’s side and intoned meaningfully, ‘That’s the true Doctor Megan coming out. She’ll never have Lachlan’s dignity, never.’
But no one had ears for Elspeth and her opinions just then. The excitement going on outside was much more tempting than the attractions inside the gaily decorated hall. Everyone rushed for vantage points at the windows, and it was quite a mêlée with children trying to worm their way in and the adults themselves behaving no better as they jostled and elbowed one another, Behag Beag even going to the length of perching herself on a chair the better to gain an uninterrupted view.
‘Would you look at these legs,’ hissed Captain Mac to Wullie McKinnon, ‘I’ve seen better-shaped porridge spurtles and that’s a fact.’
‘It’s no’ her legs I’m seeing,’ sniggered Wullie, ‘it’s her breeks. I aye kent she would wear them down to her knees but never did I dream they would be as red as a winter sunset.’
‘Ay, ay, the cailleach is showin’ her true colours right enough.’ Captain Mac’s face was redder than Behag’s bloomers with suppressed mirth. ‘Maybe we should carry her outside and wave her at the bull. We would all see red then and the big bugger would be that busy chasin’ her it would maybe run itself to a standstill. Just look at it out there. If it doesny stop chargin’ about soon, it will go right into the water and get drowned.’
‘My, my, he’s a spirited one that,’ nodded Kate, elbowing Elspeth’s sparse shoulders out of her line of vision. As mischievous a cratur’ ever to set foot on the island forbye the fact he’s all balls and no brains.’
‘Kate McKinnon!’ admonished Elspeth in disgust, while Jim Jim smirked and observed, ‘Ach well, Kate, there’s a few like him on the island and no’ just four-legged cratur’s either.’
‘Ay, and you were maybe one o’ them in your time,’ answered Kate smartly. ‘’Tis a pity they canny castrate menfolk the way they do the beasts, we might all get a bittie peace then.’
‘Ach, c’mon now, Kate,’ Tam grinned slyly at his cronies. ‘You wouldny want the like o’ that to happen. You enjoyed your bit of fun as much as the rest o’ us, no matter how you like to pretend otherwise.’
‘Fun! I’ll fun you, Tam McKinnon! I spent half my married life lying on my back birthing bairns because o’ you and your fun.’
‘Ay, and the other half just lying on your back.’ Tam’s whispered words were meant for the benefit of his cronies, who were showing suitable appreciation of his bold remarks in grins and nods. But to a man they stopped laughing when Elspeth turned round to glare at them so fiercely they all wilted away from her as, with a flounce of her severe grey head and using her elbows like battering rams, she dug her way out of the crowd to go and pour her belated sympathies into Phebie’s ears.
‘Fancy spendin’ the night wi’ that one,’ growled Tam. ‘She’d hack you to ribbons and come back later to lick up the pieces.’
‘Ay, ’tis no wonder her Hector went and died on her,’ grunted Todd, rubbing a big hand over his old appendix scar where Elspeth’s bony appendages had dug in. ‘If she had been my cailleach I’d have died too just for the sake o’ a minute’s peace.’
‘Ach, she’s no’ that bad,’ observed Captain Mac thoughtfully. ‘She’s a lonely body, and uses her tongue to cover up her feelings – I hear tell she’s a good cook too,’ he added obliquely.
‘Ay, and maybe you’ve taken leave o’ your senses,’ hooted Tam derisively. ‘What good would her cooking do to the likes o’ you – unless you’ve just gone mad altogether and are thinkin’ o’ marryin’ her? You’ve no’ been like yourself at all since that Hanaay widow told you she wouldny marry you if you persisted in the idea o’ livin’ in a houseboat.’
‘Look you, stop your blethering and get outside to help wi’ that bull,’ ordered Kate. ‘If he goes in the water there will be no gettin’ him out and Tom would have a fine job explainin’ that away to the Department.’
Rather unwillingly the men abandoned the warmth of the hall and made their way out into the bitter day. Venus had worked himself into quite a state and had gone galloping along the bay to the treacherous finger of Port Rum Point, there to make his way over the tiny fringe of white sand that separated the rock from the swirling waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
‘Get ropes!’ yelled a frantic Tom. ‘We’ll have to try and head him off. If he tries to go any further he’ll slip and I’ll have lost him forever.’
There was a general scramble to fetch ropes and anything else that might be needed to haul the wayward Venus to safety. In a state of terror he was standing on the slippery rocks, bellowing his fright to the world, all the fire gone out of him as quickly as it had come.
‘Ach my, would you look at the sowel.’ Tina was standing at the door, her voice heavy with sympathy as she watched the attempted rescue of Venus. ‘The poor cratur’ must be sorry he ever broke free. He’s no’ really a bad bull, just young and full o’ life.’
‘He’s sorry! I hope he drowns out there and if he doesn’t he deserves to be shot!’ the doctor rounded on the minister’s housekeeper. ‘You’re a foolish woman, Tina. He’s caused a great deal of trouble and all you can do is stand there and sing his praises!’
Tina recoiled, hurt and surprise showing in her soft brown eyes. Mark James left Shona’s side and strode over to pull Tina gently away, not glancing once in Megan’s direction. She stood where she was, dismayed and angry at herself. She hadn’t yet recovered from the fright she had recently experienced, she was worried about Shona and the effect all this might have on her, and she had shown herself in a bad light in front of people she was only just beginning to win over. Now she felt herself back at the beginning and a great sigh escaped her as she wondered for the umpteenth time if she had done the right thing coming to this island. To make matters worse, twice in just one day she had incurred anger in a man whose good opinion she had come to need very much indeed – even if it wasn’t very apparent to him that she needed him at all. If only he could keep his feelings on a more even level, how she would have enjoyed just talking to him, just being with him . . .
Fergus brushed past her at that moment, too anxious to find out how his daughter was faring to assist any further in the rescue of Venus.
‘Shona, are you alright?’ he demanded urgently, bending down to put his strong right arm round her shoulders. He had lost his other arm in a terrible accident near the Sgor Greags, but it had happened a long time ago and he was used to his disability now.
‘Father,’ Shona greeted him breathlessly, ‘I don’t think I’m going to be able to wait to get to that mainland hospital. I’m . . .’ She let out an involuntary groan of pain that brought Megan hurrying over to order her to lie back and breathe deeply.
‘No,’ Shona forced herself to sit upright. ‘I’ll be fine in a wee minute. It might just be a stitch though I think it might be better if I went home.’
She bit her lip and turned very pale and without further argument lay back in the hard wooden chair.
A knot of people had gathered to watch the little drama with interest and Megan whispered to Phebie, ‘Hardly the most private place for anyone to go into labour,
we’ll have to get her home as quickly as possible.’
Phebie, having been well fortified with hot tea from the kitchen urn, had recovered both her wits and her equilibrium, and she stared at the young doctor’s worried face sympathetically. ‘You really think she’s started then?’
‘Undoubtedly. All that exertion would put anyone into labour – pregnant or no. Oh, I’ve no doubt with her being a McKenzie she’ll take it all in her stride but – will the rest of us?’
Phebie showed some surprise. ‘Och, Megan, Lachy delivered hundreds of babies on the island in his day, it was the natural way o’ things then.’
‘Then – but not now. Far better a maternity hospital with all the proper facilities.’
‘Well, all I can say is, doctors these days are getting soft,’ Phebie spoke quietly but firmly. ‘A lot of the island women would far rather have their bairns at home instead o’having to trachle miles away over the water wi’ hardly the sight o’ a loved one to see them through the loneliness of being in a strange place wi’ strange people. As for facilities, all you need is a bed and a cot and plenty o’ loving care, the mother does the rest.’
‘All very fine, Phebie, but what about complications? I believe Shona’s own mother died having her and there must have been other like cases.’
‘Complications can arise in hospital too,’ Phebie sounded unusually stubborn, ‘and despite all the modern facilities as you call them, mothers still die, babies too. It ought to be a matter o’ choice. I wouldny have missed having my own two in the comforts o’ my own home, not for all the tea in China, and I happen to know Shona feels exactly the same.’
‘I see you’re the old-fashioned type,’ Megan’s face had grown red, ‘but we all have to move with the times, even an island like this one where everyone seems hellbent on clinging to the old ways whether they’re good for them or not.’ Her hazel eyes were snapping, her very ears red with chagrin. This just wasn’t her day, everything and everyone seemed to be against her, even Phebie whose placid nature had always soothed and comforted her. Impatiently she clicked her tongue. ‘All this talk is getting us nowhere and my damned car had to break down just when I need it most – sorry, I’ve cursed more today than in the whole of my time here – does anyone on the island have a vehicle that works? Could someone go and look for Niall? He ought to be here.’
Storm Over Rhanna Page 4
