Return To Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  ‘For Biddy’s picture, that nice one you keep in your bag, the one where she’s wearing her teeths. I mind the day you took it. She was moaning because it was such a hot day and you told her she was too grumpy looking to have her picture taken and made her go into the house to put in her teeth. She came out smiling because Woody had sneaked them into his bed and had chewed away a wee corner. Biddy said it proved even the cat didn’t think much of artificial teeth.’

  Shona paused with the serving spoon in mid-air. ‘Ay, I mind that day fine, how strange that you should have taken in every little detail like that.’

  ‘I couldn’t help it,’ choked Ellie. ‘She looked so funny trying to smile and keep the chewed denture in at the same time – and – in the end they fell out and we all had to get down on our knees and look for them in the grass.’

  She finished her account on a shriek of mirth which was echoed by her parents who could so easily conjure Biddy’s whimsical ways to mind.

  ‘I think it’s a lovely idea,’ Shona said at last, wiping her eyes with a corner of her apron. ‘And I also think Biddy deserves to have something nice to make up for our intrusion into her peaceful home. We’ve been here only one day and already it’s like bedlam.’

  ‘Biddy wouldn’t mind.’ Niall pulled in his plate and scooped a generous helping of pie onto his fork. ‘She liked to have life about her and the house has been empty for so long it needs a lot of laughter to waken it up.’

  ‘You’ll waken it up all right if you choke on that mouthful you have on your fork. Honestly, it’s a miracle Ellie has any manners with a father like you as an example.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have a father at all if I starved myself to death,’ Niall said, unperturbed, winking at Ellie who with great self-restraint was taking dainty mouthfuls and trying hard not to laugh.

  It was fun that first evening at Mo Dhachaidh, washing dishes in the bright, airy, newly painted kitchen. Afterwards they walked arm in arm down to the harbour, taking up the width of the road, Niall whistling, Ellie and Shona humming a gay little tune.

  ‘I ought to get a wee car for you,’ Niall said. ‘My own will be over in a few days but you’ll only have the use of it when I’m away. You could be doing with something to get you around.’

  But Shona shook her head decisively. ‘Not yet, I want to walk over the hills and moors the way I used to. I didn’t need a car then and I don’t now – and don’t you dare look at me like that, Niall McLachlan! I know what you’re thinking, that I was younger then and more up to it. Well, I’m good for a few years yet and I’ll get myself in trim again, living on the mainland made us all soft – besides – who needs a car when Biddy’s old bike is lying in the wee shed at the back of the house just crying to be used.’

  Niall grinned. ‘But it’s ancient, almost as old as Biddy was herself. It’ll fall to bits at the first pothole.’

  ‘Ach, stop havering, these old bikes were built to last and I’m going to make use of it so that’s the end of the matter.’

  There was quite a bustle at the harbour. The fishing boats had just arrived, watched with interest by the old men who spent their days exchanging sage gossip and occasionally giving the young fishermen the benefit of the knowledge they had reaped during their own years at sea. The children were playing on bicycles or pottering about with old tyres and home-made rafts in the shallows, watched placidly by the cattle who were often to be seen standing in the water in an effort to ward off the perpetual flies which had come out early that year because of the mild weather. Many of the fisherwives were in their gardens, arms folded on dividing walls as they enjoyed a blether with their neighbours, but by far the greatest number of people were hovering round Ranald’s craft shop, curiously watching a queue of village men at the door.

  ‘Daft, daft they are,’ was the opinion of Canty Tam who was pursuing his favourite occupation, that of staring vacantly out to sea as if in the hope of catching a glimpse of the Green Uisge Hags who were reputed to lie in wait beneath the waves for the unwary boatman who ventured out too far.

  The McLachlans went over to join the queue and were greeted with enthusiasm by the village worthies.

  ‘You have come to learn it too,’ grinned Fingal McLeod, nodding vaguely into the dim interior of the shop.

  ‘Learn what?’ asked Niall innocently.

  Fingal removed his pipe from his mouth, stooping to tap it out on the scratched surface of his wooden leg. ‘The art of farting, of course. Have you no’ seen the advert?’ He winked meaningfully and showed broken teeth in a wide grin. ‘Mind you, I am hoping myself we will be practising out of doors for I wouldny like to be inside when that lot get going, the cailleachs have been feedin’ them up wi’ pans o’ broth and we all know what that does to the insides.’

  There was a commotion from within and Ranald appeared, pulling Tam by the scruff of his neck. ‘Just you show me what you have done to my bonny sign,’ cried Ranald angrily, ‘I knew there was something funny goin’ on this mornin’ but I was so busy I had no time to spare to see what it was all about!’

  ‘Ach, c’mon now, man,’ protested Tam jovially. ‘Are you no’ after admitting that you have had a fine busy day – busier than you ever hoped to be in a lifetime. Your fingers must be red raw from bangin’ away at that till all day.’

  ‘What have you done to my sign?’ persisted Ranald grimly.

  Tam looked greatly discomfited. ‘Ach well now, me an’ the lads were just after thinkin’ that you had a very fine sign there, Ranald, very fine indeed but too severe – ay, much too severe and ordinary like so we thought it would do no harm at all if we added one o’ they wee gimmicks they big businessmen use all the time in advertisin’.’

  ‘No harm at all,’ echoed Todd the Shod, his round, craggy face the picture of benevolence.

  ‘Get on wi’ it, you bunch o’ mealy-mouthed dumplings!’ ordered the seething Ranald, giving Tam a shake to show he meant business.

  ‘Well now, if we could just take one o’ your wee boats to the mouth o’ the harbour I’ll be showing you,’ suggested Tam, striving to remain calm in the face of Ranald’s ire.

  Without a word Ranald led the way down to the rocks where his boats were lying and in minutes a small dinghy was in the water. Giving Tam a none too gentle shove he made him scramble to the thwart and directed him to man the oars. The crowd on the shore watched with interest as the boat bucked out of the bay to the mouth of the harbour. For a short time it remained there before a great screech of indignation floated over the waves, sending the gulls soaring up from a sandbank in a flurry of beating wings.

  ‘That was Ranald,’ nodded Jim Jim. ‘I wonder will he maybe drown Tam while he has him out there.’

  Canty Tam grimaced at the sky. ‘The Uisge Hags will be waitin’ for him,’ he prophesied with fiendish certainty. ‘If they get their claws on the like o’ Tam McKinnon there will be no mercy for him. My old mother calls him the De’il’s Disciple and warned me a long time ago no’ to have anything to do wi’ him for it’s like as no’ he’ll come to a sticky end.’

  ‘Weesht, you glaikit bugger,’ warned Jim Jim, prodding him in the ribs. ‘It’s you and that old witch you call a mother will come to a sticky end – right in the middle o’ your very own dung midden too. It’s near as high as that old Sgurr back there and if you didny waste so much o’ your time on silly fancies, you and the cailleach would be out spreadin’ it on your land.’

  Ranald and Tam had arrived back on shore, the former scrambling with agility over the rocks and running to his shop to put his head inside and bawl, ‘Barra! Barra! Would you believe what they have done to our sign! It is no wonder we were gettin’ some gey queer looks from the towrists and all that other smirkin’ and laughin’ behind our backs.’

  Barra appeared, her plump face flushed after a hectic day, her grey curls mussed attractively over her brow. Rapidly Ranald explained what had happened but before he was halfway through she dumped herself on a nearby rock, threw up her hands a
nd gave vent to gales of laughter.

  ‘This is serious, woman.’ Ranald looked at her in dismay but she was beyond hearing him, the tears were pouring down her face and she could do nothing but wave her hands and occasionally manage to splutter, ‘Outdoors, weather permitting,’ before she was off again, clutching her wobbling stomach and mopping her face with her hanky. So infectious was her laughter that very soon everyone joined in. The harbour rang with the sounds of merriment and the children giggled at the sight of all the adults in various poses of prostration.

  ‘Ranald! Ranald!’ gasped Barra at last, her shoulders still twitching. ‘Stop wetting your breeks for a minute – and listen to me. Tam has done you a favour today. I have never seen a new shop having such instant success. Ach, ach! Stop gaping like a dead fish and thank Tam McKinnon this very minute.’

  ‘Thank him?’ yelled the astounded Ranald.

  ‘Ay, thank him. Because o’ him you have made pounds instead o’ pennies and have sold nearly all the trinkets in the shop. You will have to get a hold of Dodie and old Hector to see if they can gather more shells – after you have paid them for the last lot of course.’

  Tam rubbed his hands together and cocked a beady eye. ‘I’m thinkin’ I maybe deserve a cuppy and some o’ that fine home bakin’ o’ yours, Barra – and I wouldny say no to a wee droppy o’ the good stuff either.’

  ‘You can all have a strupak,’ beamed Barra, bustling to her feet, aided willingly by several pairs of hands whose owners grinned delightedly at the feel of amply rounded flesh rolling over their fingers.

  Ranald was left speechless at the door as everyone made a bee-line inside and Todd shook his head as he walked up to the Smiddy with the McLachlans. ‘That’s a turn up for the books right enough. She’s a good soul is Barra and if it wasny for this damt cow o’ mine I would have had first go at that whisky Ranald has been hoarding like a miser since Ne’erday – after all, it was me who risked my neck gettin’ up to his roof to paint on that big F for him,’ Todd finished in aggrieved tones.

  It took Niall only five minutes to diagnose and treat Foxglove’s malady and much to Ellie’s disappointment the cow had no need of a suppository or anything else so dramatic. After a strupak with Mollie, Todd accompanied the visitors outside with the pretence of seeing them off.

  ‘I will just walk wi’ you a wee way along the road,’ he said loudly and obviously for Mollie’s benefit for he was no sooner two seconds outside than he sprachled away with agility in the direction of Ranald’s craft shop.

  Niall took Shona’s arm. She felt cool yet warm, the shy smile she threw at him filled with the secret intimate promises of things yet to come, things which he knew were for him alone when the time finally came for them to shut the world away.

  His fingers probed the warm hollow of her palm and she shivered in anticipation of their first night alone in Mo Dhachaidh, but she said nothing, instinctively knowing that no words were needed to convey that his message had been received and understood. He had changed into his Rhanna clothes, a lovat jersey and a McLachlan kilt and he felt hard and masculine, the narrow lean edge of his hips brushing hers with every step he took.

  ‘Will you always love me?’ The question was as sudden as it was unexpected.

  Through the gathering darkness she studied his face, looking for a sign that would tell her he was only half in earnest but she saw only seriousness in the intent lines of his expression. The wind was ruffling his fair hair, blowing it over his brow and she felt an overwhelming urge to take him there and then into her arms.

  Ellie was out of sight, the shore was deserted, the sigh of solitude breathed over the Hebridean landscape.

  Without hesitation she wound her arms round his waist and pulled him in close to her. Despite the rugged maleness of his body she was aware of an unexpected vulnerability in him that night, a strange uncertainty that reached out to her and pierced her heart. In the darkness she gave an odd little smile. Men were like that, her Niall was like that, he gave the impression of always being in control, of containing within his virile body a supreme strength that could never falter – but it could – sometimes it could, and then he was like a small boy seeking reassurance.

  Leaning forward she kissed him on the lips. ‘Of course I will always love you, darling, darling Niall. But what makes you ask a thing like that? These are the sort of questions I usually ask.’

  ‘Sometimes men have to ask them as well,’ he said and his voice was low. ‘Maybe it’s because everything today is new and different and I want you and me to always stay the same.’ His fingers explored the warm satin skin at her nape before he bent his head towards her and took possession of her lips, his tongue making a little circle of fire against hers. ‘We’ll make tonight a night to remember,’ he murmured huskily into her ear. ‘So that we can always look back and smile our secret smiles whenever we think about it.’

  She felt warm and confused and very aware of the passionate flame that had kindled between them and she was reluctant to relinquish the sweet intimacy of the moment even though she spotted Behag’s face spying on them from her window. Mischievously she thought of prolonging the interlude for Behag’s benefit, but Ellie appeared on the shore by the Fallan bridge and Captain Mac was down by the water’s edge preparing to take the dinghy out to The Sea Urchin which he had earmarked as sleeping quarters, and she stepped out of Niall’s embrace, contenting herself by taking his hand and holding it tightly.

  As if by magic half a dozen children materialized beside Captain Mac, clamouring to help the popular old sea dog, and under his bellowed orders the dinghy was afloat in no time. The whole proceeding was watched with interest by old Joe who at the grand old age of a hundred and one was still able to participate in marine activities. When he wasn’t on the water he was usually to be found pottering about on the shore and at sight of Niall he scrambled to his feet and walked over the shingle with the easy rolling gait of a veteran sailor.

  ‘That’s a fine boat you have there, lad,’ he observed, prodding his pipe towards the harbour, his sea-green eyes bright with admiration. They were strange eyes; children looked into them and saw a kaleidoscope of memories. It was as if patterns of light were refracted into swiftly changing scenes and with a little imagination it was possible to look into his eyes and see sunken treasures, mermaids and other fabulous creatures who inhabited the magical lands under the waves. Old Joe had a fund of sea adventures to relate and whether they were real or imaginary generations of children had never tired of hearing them. ‘I was too busy lookin’ at her to notice you two kissin’ up there,’ the old man went on innocently and Niall’s fingers tightened on Shona’s as a smother of mirth escaped her.

  Niall gazed with pride at the trim white hull of The Sea Urchin rocking elegantly on the waves. ‘Ay, she’s a good-looking boat right enough, Joe, but more importantly she handles well in the water. Mac has had her over to Barra in a swell and he was singing her praises.’

  ‘I would like to be havin’ the feel o’ her planks under my own feets,’ hinted old Joe gently and Niall glanced at Shona.

  ‘What do you say, mo ghaoil? Will we all take a wee trip over to The Sea Urchin?’

  ‘Why not? We can do anything we like tonight and the water is fine and calm.’

  To show his delight old Joe made a faultless spit into a rock pool some distance away before plodding off to catch Captain Mac who was getting ready to set off.

  It was cool and peaceful aboard the boat. The men went down below to sample some of Captain Mac’s Jamaican Rum Cocktail, a potent concoction which he claimed could ‘ca’ the feet from an elephant’. Shona stayed on deck with Ellie, gazing at the dark drift of the Rhanna hills etched against the smoky blue velvet of the eastern sky. The cries of the newborn lambs echoed from the fields; the barking of a roe buck bounced from the hill corries to drift plaintively over the mysterious silent plains of the Muir of Rhanna; an oyster catcher piped a melancholy tune from the calm secret inlets which nestled below th
e great brooding cliffs of Burg; the lights from the cottage windows shivered down into the black water of the harbour, piercing tentatively into the splashes of spray beating against the treacherous rocks of Port Rum Point. It was a fresh cold night with a bite in the breezes singing in from the open sea, and to Shona the tang of peat smoke had never seemed sharper, the haunting peace of the amber-flecked sea had never before invoked such contentment; the elusive quality of the misted night hills had never been more filled with the solitude of lonely high places.

  ‘Oh, Ellie, I love it so,’ she breathed passionately. Reaching out she put her hand on her daughter’s slight shoulder. ‘You’re young, my wee lamb, and although I knew at your age that I liked solitude I can’t exactly remember the emotions it brought so you tell me what you feel.’

  Ellie rubbed her cold arms. ‘I feel strange – in here—’ She placed her hand over her heart. ‘I feel very small and yet I also feel big – as if I could touch the hilltops and push my pinkie through the middle of that big golden moon sailing above Sgurr nan Ruadh . . .’ She shivered suddenly. ‘I also feel a bit cold and all sort of itchy and scratchy.’

  Shona burst out laughing. ‘You daft wee thing! I can understand the cold but not the itch.’

  Ellie wriggled and reaching inside her jersey pulled out a tiny black sleepy kitten. Niall appeared in time to see the latest arrival. ‘You wee wittrock – where did you get that?’

  Ellie giggled and kissed the kitten’s moist nose. ‘Todd gave her to me in return for what you did for Foxglove.’

  ‘Oh, did he now?’ Niall’s eyes gleamed. ‘We’ll see about that – we’ll never earn a living if we get paid in kittens.’

  Ellie’s smile trembled between disappointment and hope and he relented. ‘All right, you conniving wee devil, you can keep the kitten but I’ll get over to Todd’s in the morning and collect what’s due me – and I don’t mean a barrowload of dung or another kitten either.’

  Ellie lifted the kitten to the warmth of her neck and whispered in its ear, ‘I’ll call you Woody. That was the name of Biddy’s cat and every time I call on you she’ll feel really at home.’