Return To Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  ‘His ring!’

  ‘Ay – and make sure the bugger has the weddin’ soon after. Some men think an engagement ring is as good as a passport to the bedroom and once that happens you can just forget about the weddin’.’

  ‘That’s true, that’s true,’ supplemented Merry Mary sadly, her own personal experiences on the subject having led to her own state of spinsterhood, of that she was certain. ‘Just you keep your finger on your halfpenny till your weddin’ night and you will never regret it.’

  Barra, still taking it all as the joke she was sure was intended, grinned affably, ‘And I suppose wi’ me being a virgin woman it will not be unseemly to go up the aisle in white carrying my lilies and the white Bible my mother gave me when I was twelve.’

  ‘You have every right of all that,’ Merry Mary and Kate assured her in unison. ‘And just think,’ added Kate, ‘thon nice new minister who came yesterday will be the one who will get the pleasure o’ marryin’ you. Yours might be the very first weddin’ he will get to perform on the island so we’ll have to make it a special day for the pair o’ you – and seeing you are no’ as young as the usual kind of bride we will maybe only ceilidh for two nights instead of four, though of course you’ll be too busy enjoyin’ yourself on your honeymoon to care how long we ceilidh.’

  Barra glanced from one earnest face to the other and was seized with an irresistible desire to laugh but having made such notable headway with two of the island’s worthier characters, she daren’t risk giving offence and managed to compose her plump face into serious lines.

  ‘You know, ladies,’ she said soberly, ‘I’m beginning to look forward very much to the pleasure the new minister will get when he marries me. A friend of mine always suspected that men of the cloth only wear a dog collar for one very good reason.’

  ‘And what would that be?’ asked Kate eagerly.

  A grin split Barra’s rosy face. ‘To hide the ravishes of passion that wanton women like myself have laid upon them. The marks o’ love are no’ easy things to disguise so what better than a dog collar to cover them up.’

  Both Merry Mary and Kate erupted into skirls of laughter but then the talk turned to more sober things with Kate for once looking unusually worried as she talked about her daughter Nancy who had recently undergone major surgery.

  ‘Ach, my, the poor cratur’,’ said Barra sympathetically. ‘But she has you to look to her, Kate, and Lachlan forbye, and no doubt the new minister will be payin’ her a few visits – what is his name by the way?’

  Kate supplied the information and Barra said almost to herself, ‘Mark James. I know the man – so he has come to Rhanna to forget – poor, poor soul.’

  ‘What is that you say, Barra?’ asked Merry Mary curiously. ‘You say you know the mannie?’

  Barra straightened, and said hastily, ‘Not at all, I was just thinking the name was familiar, that is all. I hope the folks here will be kind to him; it is never easy coming to a new place as fine I know myself.’

  The two women looked shamefaced. ‘We will treat him as we would our own kin,’ vowed Kate, ‘never you fear, Barra. It will be hard for him when he takes his first sermon this coming Sabbath but the christening of wee Lorna McKenzie will maybe ease matters. There is nothing melts the heart more than to see an innocent babe being received into the kirk for the first time. We are all lookin’ forward to it.’

  Barra cocked her head to one side and said rather breathlessly, ‘Robbie is coming, I would know those steps o’ his anywhere.’

  Robbie padded shyly in, the stealth of his walk attributed to the years he had been ghillie to Burnbreddie and also to the years Behag had made him walk in stockinged feet through the house, claiming that his slippers gave her a headache. Mostly it was reasoned he had acquired the catlike tread during his endeavours to sneak out of the house in order to be away from his sister’s watchful eye.

  He twisted his cap in his hands and glanced awkwardly at Barra, his blue eyes unblinking in his pleasant round face. ‘It is yourself, Barra,’ he acknowledged in a breathy whisper.

  ‘Ay, it is that, Robbie,’ she nodded, keeping her eyes averted from his penetrating stare. ‘And I’m away now before Ranald thinks I have got lost.’

  The door swung shut behind her. Kate shook her head. ‘She is a fine wee body and she has a sense o’ humour into the bargain.’

  ‘Indeed, she’ll be all right now that she is finding her way around better.’ Merry Mary looked at Robbie. ‘Is that not so, my bonny mannie?’

  Robbie pulled a thread from his cap and seemed unaware that the peak was now just hanging from a frayed edge. ‘Ay, that is so,’ he agreed, gazing rather forlornly at the door from which Barra had just departed.

  Babbie settled herself comfortably into the big old armchair that had been Biddy’s and gratefully accepted the cup of coffee which Shona handed her. They had both gone over to Rumhor that morning in Babbie’s car and Shona had thoroughly enjoyed the opportunity to stop for a crack in the crofts and cottages she had known so well as a child. Yet she had felt saddened at the changes the years had brought to the people who had been young to middle-aged the last time she had seen them. In a strangely childish way she had expected that they would have remained the same and was seized with the notion that her return to the island wasn’t going to be at all as she had pictured in her mind.

  A visit to the Taylors of Croft na Beinn had helped cheer her up considerably. Nancy Taylor was Kate’s eldest daughter. She had worked at Laigmhor when Shona had been an infant and some of Shona’s earliest recollections were of buxom Nancy shocking Mirabelle into gales of helpless laughter with her colourful descriptions of her courtship with Archie Taylor. Many of Shona’s first words had been gleaned from Nancy’s unique vocabulary much to the dismay of Mirabelle. When anyone came to the house she hastened to whisk the infant away lest she exercise her new words in front of her more prim friends. Mirabelle too had been prim in her own way, but she certainly hadn’t been prudish and had laughed at Nancy’s sayings till the tears rolled down her smooth, plump cheeks.

  Nancy was now a grandmother but she had retained the zest and mischief of her girlhood and so ably had she entertained Babbie and Shona they had spent the time in her company laughing. Yet Nancy had recently had an operation for breast cancer and anyone else in her position couldn’t have been blamed for feeling self-pity. But not Nancy.

  ‘Ach, it has taken a weight off my chest,’ she grinned irrepressibly. ‘I was always well endowed with big breasts. Mither swore blind I was born wi’ them and she might be right for I can never mind a time when I was without the buggers. When me and Archie were courtin’ he said he could always tell me from the other lassies by the way they bounced up and down wi’ an extra shoogle to the side for good measure – ach, poor Archie,’ she said fondly. ‘He was aye a one for breasts – the things he did wi’ mine is nobody’s business—’ Unconsciously her hand moved over the flatness of the left side of her chest. ‘He will only have the one to play wi’ now but och – it’s maybe as well – at his age it should be more than enough. Besides, the next best thing for him is legs and I’ve got plenty and enough meat on them to keep his passions going for a whily yet.’

  Giggling she had slapped her ample thighs before sinking into a chair to accept the strupak Shona had made for her. ‘Ach, it’s good you are.’ She studied Shona’s face. ‘My, my, you’re as bonny as the day you were born. I mind it fine though I was just a slip of a girl, your poor mither upstairs in labour, your father near demented wi’ worry, Mirabelle clumpin’ upstairs wi’ hot water for the doctor and bakin’ sody for auld Biddy.’ Her cheery face grew sad. ‘It was a dark dark time for everybody, that it was, but then you popped your wee face into the world and suddenly it was morning and the storm was over and though your bonny mither had drawn her last breath you were bawlin’ out wi’ all the buggering strength in your wee lungs. My, you were a bugger betimes. Poor auld Mirabelle was near demented but och, she thought the world o’
you, that she did and her heart was brimful o’ pride for McKenzie o’ the Glen – poor Alick too for all he was a wild, wild laddie.’

  Shona had been enthralled by Nancy’s revelations. Often in the past she had experienced an impatience with the eternal prattlings but now she realized that, with the exception of her father and Lachlan, Nancy was the only person left who could give her a first-hand account of those early days at Laigmhor.

  Babbie had smiled indulgently at the look of interest on her friend’s face and she had listened patiently as both Nancy and Shona plunged into long reminiscences about things dear to their hearts. From her experience with people Babbie knew that the chatter was beneficial to both women, especially Nancy whom she suspected was hiding a lot of apprehensions behind a cheery facade.

  At the door she glimpsed a little of the real Nancy. Shona had braved the elements to go outside and pick some cuttings for the garden she was presently cultivating and Nancy was bending over to move wellingtons and shepherd’s crooks out of the way. A spasm of pain twisted her face and she clutched at the pathetic flatness of her chest. ‘The bugger is sore betimes,’ she gasped and her black eyes fastened on Babbie’s face, the fear in them stark and naked. ‘I don’t want to know what is ahead o’ me,’ she stated bluntly. ‘Whatever it is I will fight it wi’ every last breath that is in me.’

  Babbie laid a comforting hand on her arm. ‘Ay, you will that, Nancy, you have spirit,’ she uttered with conviction, her admiration strengthened for this brave, gentle McKinnon, who, despite all her boisterous ways, was one of the kindest people that she had ever met.

  ‘I didny want to let Shona see how I was feeling.’ Nancy was herself again, a beaming smile spreading over her smooth attractive face. ‘I have always thought o’ her as a wee lass. It’s easy to feel that way about her for there is something in her that has never really grown up. No’ that she isn’t brave and proud like all the McKenzies – oh no – ’tis just that she shies away from reality and is more inclined to think of life as a fairy tale—’ She paused. ‘It will take her a whily to find her feets on the island, she has come back as the young lassie she was when she left. She will expect too much too soon and will be disappointed many times before she learns that she will have to let go of the past if she wants things to work out for her and Niall and the bairnie.’

  It was a profound observance. Babbie was taken aback but had no time to orientate her thoughts. Shona was coming back, fighting her way through the squalls of rain which blotted out the hills and the sea, and they had to make a mad dash to the car to avoid a drenching.

  Babbie sipped her coffee thoughtfully, one green eye fixed on Shona who was arranging a dewy bunch of late primroses in the vase in Memory Corner.

  ‘What a lovely idea that was of Ellie’s,’ Babbie said and Shona turned a sparkling face.

  ‘I know, she’s a deep thinker for such a young lassie. I’ve looked out a lot of tiny picture frames and when she comes home she can arrange them to suit herself.’

  ‘She’s coming back on Friday, isn’t she?’

  ‘Ay, and don’t I know it. She’s written me every other day this week reminding me. As if I could forget. It will be so good to have her here for company and she’ll be in time for Lorna’s christening on Sunday. She was afraid she would miss it even though we all kept telling her we had arranged the date to suit her.’

  Babbie watched her friend for a few thoughtful minutes. ‘You’re missing Niall, aren’t you?’ she said eventually.

  Shona flicked her hair carelessly over her shoulder. ‘Ay, it’s natural. Wouldn’t you miss Anton if he had to go away every other week?’

  ‘Like my right arm,’ said Babbie fervently, ‘I’m used to having him around.’

  Shona rounded on her, eyes flashing blue sparks. ‘Then why ask such silly questions if you know how I’m feeling?’

  ‘It is called making polite conversation.’ Babbie’s tones were dry.

  Shona was immediately sorry for her outburst. ‘Och, Babbie, I’m a bitch, I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m not sleeping. I miss Niall at every turn and it’s so strange not having him in bed beside me. I lie awake hearing every rafter creaking and the mice squabbling in the heather. It’s making me a bitty irritable. Oh please don’t think I’m unhappy, I love being back on Rhanna, I adore this dear old house – it’s just – when Niall’s away I find myself counting the days till he gets back.’

  ‘You’ve got too much time on your hands,’ said Babbie bluntly. ‘You ought to think seriously about taking on a job. You enjoy coming with me, I know, but let’s face it, Shona, you’re doing it more for the company really. It seems a shame to let all that good nursing experience go to waste, so why don’t you consider becoming my assistant? The Lord knows I could be doing with some help.’ She ended with a weary sigh.

  Shona studied her friend’s face and for the first time noticed the tiny lines etched on her clear pale skin. For a few moments she argued with herself. Babbie must be in her early forties now, a few lines were to be expected – on the other hand they could have been prematurely brought about by the demands her job made on her – she shrugged. ‘You’re havering, Babbie Cameron – sorry – I mean Büttger. There is no such thing as a post available for an assistant. If I’m minding right you made it plain to the Medical Authorities you didn’t need one.’

  Babbie grinned ruefully. ‘I was young and full of enthusiasm then. I’m sure a post could be created for an assistant if I made an issue of it.’

  Shona examined her nails. ‘It’s good of you to think of me but I don’t want to be tied down to anything – not yet – I’ve got so much I want to do – so much to catch up on. I’ll always be on hand if you need me of course, but right now I’m perfectly happy the way things are.’

  Babbie knew it was useless to pursue the subject. She was well used to Shona’s stubbornness. When her mind was made up only Shona herself could change it and with a resigned nod Babbie changed the subject.

  ‘Elspeth tells me the new minister has arrived and from all accounts he doesn’t fit into the usual concept of how a minister ought to look. Elspeth has already condemned him as being too modern looking though she grudgingly had to admit that he has, what she calls, a good honest bearing. The poor soul will have his work cut out with the Elspeths of the community.’

  ‘He certainly sounds different from our own John Grey,’ mused Shona. ‘It will be interesting to see what his sermons are like. When I was a wee lassie I mind how terrified I was by all the hellfire and brimstone that flowed over the kirk every Sabbath. It was years before I finally realized that the Reverend Grey was a human being and not the awful ogre he made out.’

  Babbie laughed. ‘No doubt the Rhanna folk had a hand in converting him. To see him pottering about in his garden you would never think that such a pink-faced, silvery-haired gentleman kept the old folks in terror of losing everlasting salvation.’ She put down her cup and made to rise. ‘Not that any of it ever bothered me. I’m too fond of my Sunday long lie-in to care if all the demons in hell came skirling about my lugs. You’re different, you always went to kirk.’

  ‘Old habits die hard. I’ve rarely missed a Sunday from the day Mirabelle hauled me along for the first time complete with black woolly stockings and a clean hanky tucked into my pouch. I was always scared to use it in case I would ruin the beautifully ironed creases.’

  Above the hissing of the rain on the panes Shona heard a movement outside and she glimpsed a tall fair-haired man at the door. For a joyful moment she thought it was Niall coming home sooner than expected but it was Anton who came into the kitchen, the rain streaming down his handsome bronzed face. ‘Ah, liebling, I thought it was your car at the gate.’ He embraced his wife, grinning as she protested at the wetness of his garments. ‘I was over seeing Johnston of Croynachan and stayed to have a wee strupak with them.’

  Over the years he had adopted much of the island ways and his charming broken English, liberally sprinkled with
Scottish words, was a delight to the ears. He was an excellent farmer, the well-tilled fields of Croft na Ard bearing testimony to the long hours of labour he lavished on the land. Though he was a man who guarded his privacy he wasn’t jealous of it and the door of the croft was always open. In the months of summer he organized horse-riding events on the wide flat fields above the cliffs and he had made it his business to learn the language of the Gaels. As a result he could converse with the old people in the tongue they knew best and was able to listen to the wonderful tales that had been handed down from generation to generation. During the course of his learning he had taught some of his own language and the Rhanna folk took a positive delight in slipping the odd German word into a Gaelic conversation, especially when being asked directions by a wandering tourist. It all added to the fund of tales to be related at the ceilidhs with everyone vying to recount the best ‘towrist tale’.

  Anton greeted Shona, his keen blue eyes appraising her slender figure appreciatively, a look which wasn’t lost on Babbie.

  ‘I knew I should have stuck to my resolution not to use the car,’ she wailed. ‘I’m getting fatter and losing my husband’s attention to my best friend. I think I’ll have to go on a diet.’

  He slapped her playfully on the bottom. ‘Do that and I’ll lock you up in the house and force feed you. I love you as you are, liebling. If you were to lose your nice plump bottom where would I warm my hands on a cold morning?’ He winked at Shona. ‘It is the nicest time, just before rising, snuggled into my soft little dumpling, all warm and steamy – as if she had just come out the oven.’

  ‘Anton Büttger! What did Tom Johnston put in your tea?’ demanded Babbie.

  ‘Well, it certainly wasn’t bromide – I can’t wait to get you home.’

  Despite herself, Shona had to laugh at Babbie’s outraged look. Seeing the two of them together made her long for Niall all the more and when Babbie issued an invitation to come over for dinner that evening she hesitated. It would be strange going anywhere without Niall, she might feel left out, Anton and Babbie wouldn’t do it deliberately but their very closeness made it unavoidable. She declined the invitation with the excuse of getting Ellie’s room ready, avoiding the reproach in Babbie’s eyes.