Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Three days later, on a morning of gentle sun and mellow amber tints, she passed peacefully away. Everyone who had loved the kenspeckle old sprite who had spent her entire eighty-three years on the Hebridean island, toiled up the leaf-strewn path to the old kirk.

  Old Joe watched his cousin laid to rest. ‘Gone with the winds right enough,’ he chuckled but there was a mist of tears in his green eyes and he blew his nose loudly on a spotted red handkerchief.

  Dodie, resplendent in a black coat and grey soft hat no one had seen before, wept quietly into his big tobacco-stained hands. ‘He breeah!’ he said in a funny choked voice. He was conscious of the strange hat on his head but proud that he had managed to dress decently to see his old friend off. He had ‘borrowed’ the clothes from Burnbreddie many years before and was pleased of the chance to wear them, even if it was for such an unhappy occasion.

  He looked at Biddy, who was standing by the open grave saying a beautiful Gaelic prayer that brought the tears to the eyes of all the Gaels present, and his broken teeth showed for a moment. It was nice to see her wearing the gift he had given her a number of years ago. She too was wearing her very best in honour of old Shelagh.

  THIRTEEN

  Shona rubbed at a pair of thick woolly socks with an energy that had nothing to do with enthusiasm. Mrs McKinnon had been unable to come to Laigmhor because of a bout of sciatica and Shona had had to contend with all the chores both in and out the farmhouse for nearly a fortnight. She had been so busy she had deliberately ignored the pile of washing, but when Fergus came down to breakfast that morning, with no socks to wear under his wellingtons, she was so ashamed she set about the tasteless task after lunch was over. Soapsuds spilled out of the tub to the floor and Tot, who had skated the length of the kitchen twice, was now taking refuge under the table.

  The kitchen was warm and the door was thrown wide to let in the few stray breezes from the Indian summer day outside. Sunlight streamed over the flagstones and Shona sighed, raising her head for a moment to look at the russet gold shoulder of Sgurr na Gill outlined against the deep blue sky. She longed to be outside to feel the sun on her skin. The outdoor sounds were enticing, a Hebridean song-thrush ‘tchuck-tchucked’ from the apple tree, cows lowed gently from the fields, and the hens clucked peacefully and every so often wandered into the kitchen, combs waggling and beady eyes bright. Shona rushed at them with a besom and they flew clumsily outside, shrieking indignantly amidst feathers and droppings.

  ‘Silly fools!’ Shona spoke vehemently to the empty kitchen, and the ticking of the grandmother clock from the hall, and Tot’s snoring, only served to heighten the silence.

  She sighed again and rubbed her nose with a soapy hand before going back to the sink. Clothes slopped once more and she looked absently at the calendar. October was halfway through and it was three and a half months since Niall had left Rhanna. She had been parted from him for longer spells but it was different now; now that their love was no longer the secret of the other, the months apart were like years.

  Her hair fell over her face and she was so engrossed in her thoughts that she didn’t notice the shadow that loomed on the sunlit flagstones.

  ‘Is this the wee hoosie where the wash wife lives?’ Niall’s voice was full of suppressed joy. She looked up, her expression one of startled disbelief. His strong young figure filled the doorway, a handsome stranger in his Army uniform. With a few quick strides he crossed the room and lifted her high; then the warm firm mouth she had dreamed of was on her own and she gasped for breath.

  ‘You smell and taste of soap,’ he grinned, holding her away to look at her. She wiped her hands on her apron and backed away from him, trying to take in the fact that the suntanned young man in the neat uniform, his hair severely cropped under his cap, was really the same person who had left her months before.

  ‘Hey!’ he laughed, ‘it’s me – Niall! Remember – the glaikit wee laddie you played with!’

  ‘You look so different, it’s difficult to believe you’re Niall McLachlan!’

  ‘I’m just the same, it’s the uniform that’s different – aye, and the Indian crop! C’mon! Are you not pleased I’m here?’

  She went into his arms then. ‘I’ve missed you so,’ she whispered into his ear, ‘and I imagined when you came home I would be beautiful and perfect and instead you’ve caught me with my peenie on.’

  ‘You are beautiful and I’ve longed for this moment so much I wouldn’t care if you’d nothing on.’

  They burst out laughing then she grew serious. ‘How long, Niall?’

  ‘Seven days but I’ll miss two of them because of travelling so it leaves only five. I’m being posted to France.’ She turned pale and went quickly back to the sink but he was at her back, turning her face gently towards his. ‘We must make the most of the time, mo gaolach, so it’s off with your peenie and out with me. I’ve been home and sent my folks crazy with delight at sight of my bonny face. Mother has made me a big parcel of sandwiches so we can go off for the whole afternoon.’

  ‘I can’t,’ she wailed. ‘I look like a spey wife and I’m in such a guddle with the washing! Father hasn’t a single pair of socks to wear!’

  He slapped her gently on the bottom. ‘Give me your apron and you get along and clean yourself up.’

  She left him wrapping the apron round his uniform and she could hear him singing while she washed and tidied herself in her room. She surveyed herself in the mirror and sparkling eyes and rosy cheeks looked back at her. She put on a blue dress and brushed her hair till it shone. For a moment she stood still and thought, ‘Five days, five precious days with Niall. I’ll hold on to every minute and turn them into hours.’ She put down her brush and flew downstairs, chuckling when she looked outside and saw Niall hanging out the washing, his singing somewhat distorted by the rows of pegs sticking from his mouth. She didn’t dare inspect the newly washed clothes too closely. They were hanging in comically unusual positions but looked clean enough in the searching rays of the sun.

  Niall came back to the kitchen and threw his apron on to a chair. ‘All set?’ he said, crooking his arm in a dashing manner.

  She nodded breathlessly. ‘I’ve left a note for Father in case he comes in and wonders where I am. I just said you were home.’

  They went outside. ‘Where will we go?’ she wondered though she knew what he would say.

  ‘Where else but our own wee hideaway?’

  It was a day borrowed from summer and Niall took off his jacket and threw it over his shoulder. He put his arm round Shona and they walked with their heads together, their feet light and swift on the dry moor grasses.

  They hadn’t been to the cave since June and it was full of cobwebs. Shona dusted them away and made tea on the spirit stove while Niall washed the cups in the nearby burn. It was too warm to stay in the cave so they spread a rug outside and sat on it to drink tea and eat chicken sandwiches. The ruins of the Abbey made a perfect sun trap. Through the crumbling walls held together in places by an overgrowth of tree roots and fern, they could see the moor stretched for miles, a sheet of golden ochre merging with the blue-green mists of the sea.

  Shona looked far into the distance and felt frightened, knowing that Niall was soon going to a place where the serenity of Rhanna would be very far away. She shivered and snuggled against him.

  ‘Hey, why all the shivers?’ he asked gently. ‘The sun’s warm enough for July.’

  ‘I’m afraid, Niall. You are too – I can feel it. It’s happened – I’ve tried not to think about it but now the time has come – you’re going off to fight and you might get hurt.’

  ‘I am a wee bit scarey, Shona,’ he admitted. ‘I think most of the lads are, but we’re not going out there with the idea we’re going to get hurt. We’re going to fight and probably not even right away. I’ll maybe get a chance to come home if things aren’t too bad.’

  She pulled herself away from him angrily. ‘When are you going to give me peace of mind? When will you stop l
eaving me? I can’t deny it any longer, Niall! I’ve always hated you leaving but I didn’t want to behave like a silly wee girl so I pretended not to care every time you went. It’s different now! I love you! And you’re supposed to love me but how can you when you worry me so with all your stupid ideas about adventure? War’s not an adventure. You might get killed, Niall and have you thought – you’ll have to kill other people if you want to stay alive!’

  She burst into a torrent of tears. Niall’s face had turned white with anger. ‘I know it’s not an adventure, Shona,’ he said harshly. ‘I’ve lain nights in the billet sweating when I think about it. I don’t want to kill anyone but you’re right – if I don’t, they’ll kill me, even though they might not want it either. It’s the whole conception of war that’s rotten and evil but if I don’t fight, and thousands like me, there would be no freedom for anyone! Everything would be swallowed up by all the greedy little Hitlers of the world! Do you want that to happen, Shona? Would you like to see Scotland taken over by the Nazis?’

  She had never seen him so angry. She hadn’t realized his convictions were so strong and she wanted to run to him and hold him but her stubborn nature wouldn’t allow it. The sun was still shining, but the beauty of the day was ruined for both of them. She began to gather up her things while he watched miserably.

  ‘Will I see you tomorrow?’ he asked.

  She flounced about, her chin set in the determined lines he knew so well.

  ‘I really don’t know,’ she answered, coldly polite. ‘I have so much to do with Mrs McKinnon not well. You’ll be about no doubt and know where to find me if you need me!’

  She hardly dared look at him because she knew if she did she would melt. From experience she knew how he was looking. From the side of her eye she saw him sitting dejectedly, his hands hanging over his drawn-up knees. What she couldn’t see, but could guess, were deep brown eyes, dark with growing misery, and tanned skin flushed with fading anger. A lump came to her throat but she forced herself to walk away, her head high and her step nonchalant. He didn’t come after her and her face was pale with hurt when she arrived home. Tot wheezed to greet her but it was still too early for anyone else to be about.

  She held the old dog close and went to the cobbled yard then through the little gate to the drying green. Niall’s washing, a gay jumble on the line, made her cry out with remorse and shame. She wanted to run back over the moor to tell him how sorry she was but instead put potatoes and turnip to cook on the range and laid the table with a precision calculated to pass time quickly.

  Fergus came in smelling of dung and he stripped to the waist and ran water into the sink. ‘I hear Niall’s home,’ he called through a lather of soap. ‘Well, you can go off and enjoy yourselves while he’s here. Mrs McKinnon sent a message that she’ll be here in the morning.’

  He reached for a towel and wiped the water from his eyes, expecting to see his daughter’s radiant face. Instead she was at the stove, her back to him while she furiously mashed turnip and potatoes.

  ‘Clapshot tonight, is it?’ he asked, wary of her mood.

  ‘With salt beef,’ she snapped.

  ‘I’ll mask the tea then.’ He poured boiling water into the teapot and set it on the range. He sat down, still wearing only his trousers, and drew his plate towards him. ‘I hear tell Dodie’s ram’s been going at the yowes up on the hill,’ he said conversationally. ‘The crofters from Nigg will be moaning about it though they know fine none of their rams can compare with Dodie’s. He should be charging a fee, so he should.’

  ‘He should have sold that ram,’ said Shona sullenly. ‘And you should never have given him that old yowe in the first place. One of her lambs just had to be a ram and one of these day’s there’s going to be a fine stramash over the whole thing – that’s if the old ram doesn’t drop dead first from all its matings!’

  ‘There’s already been a stramash, I think. The sun’s gone out of your eyes, my lass.’

  She lifted her head, an angry retort on her lips, but the look of caring in his black eyes made her instead jump to her feet and go to him. His body was warm and still damp from his wash, and she bent over to put her arms round his neck.

  ‘Oh Father, I’m a bad-tempered bitch and deserve a skelping! Niall’s going off to France and all I could do was shout at him that he thought it was all just an adventure. I’m afraid for him and when I’m frightened I get crabbit.’

  He smiled strangely. ‘An inheritance from me! It’s a devil of a thing to control and even worse if there’s a bit of thrawn pride alongside it. You’re the one who should apologize but I know how hard that can be.’

  ‘You understand so much, Father.’

  ‘I’ve been through it all, that’s why. When I was your age I could never bring myself to admit being wrong. Now I see all the time I wasted with my pride and it’s too late to be sorry. Don’t make my mistakes, Shona, or you’ll live to regret it. How long has Niall got?’

  ‘Five days – and one of them nearly gone.’

  ‘Precious hours,’ he said briefly and turned back to his meal.

  That evening she wanted to run over to Slochmhor but she didn’t. Her father was going up the hill to old Bob’s biggin for a night of chess and when he had gone she curled herself on the inglenook and gazed into the leaping flames in the hearth. Minutes passed, then a tap at the door made her leap up, her heart racing. Niall had come to her! But it was Nancy on her way to Portcull to visit her mother.

  ‘I’m just dropping in for a crack,’ she dimpled, her merry dark eyes full of life. ‘Archie brought me over in the trap and now he’s away to Ranald’s for a dram and a game o’ cards. Och – but you and that bonny Niall will make a fine pair. If you just let me put Jeemie down and give me a cup o’ tea I’ll give you a few hints for your weddin’ night.’

  Shona listened to the busy tongue and felt that Nancy’s vivacity could be somewhat overpowering at times.

  Half an hour later she left in a whirl of laughter and Shona sat down thankfully, feeling tired and unhappy. At nine o’clock she took her cocoa, her hot water bottle and Tot up to bed and lay gazing at the small damp patch on her ceiling. She had loved the patch from childhood because it was shaped the way she imagined Jesus’s head would be. The slates of the roof had been fixed and her ceiling repapered but still the little patch came through till the paper was stained in the gentle profile that always brought her a certain measure of comfort. She turned and snuggled into Tot who groaned in ecstasy. It was the time the old dog loved best; the dregs of cocoa from the saucer, the cosy bed, and the warm loving arms of her mistress hugging her close.

  Shona pictured Niall sitting in the homely parlour at Slochmhor. Fiona would be in bed and he would be talking with his parents in that intimate close way they had with each other.

  A tear slid on to Tot’s ear and Shona whispered, ‘Oh dear God, let Niall know it’s because I love him I’m angry he’s going away and – and I’m so frightened.’

  Tot snored and Shona heard her father come in. It was comforting to hear him moving about. The light from his lamp illuminated the crack under her door. She knew he had stopped and she could picture him, a tall lone figure surrounded by the darkness of the house, listening for a sign from her that all was well. He wouldn’t say anything for fear she was asleep, and he would go to his empty room, with its masculine traces of untidiness, without the comforting sound of a human voice bidding him a good night.

  ‘Goodnight, Father,’ she said gently.

  His soft lilting voice floated back. ‘Goodnight, Ni-Cridhe.’

  ‘Ni-Cridhe’. My dear lassie! The unaccustomed endearment made her heart swell with love for him and feeling oddly comforted she buried her face into Tot’s silky ears and slept.

  The next morning was one of calm mists and damp dewy grass. Mrs McKinnon came and talked incessantly while she made bread and prepared vegetables. It was good to hear her earthy tongue and Shona laughed despite her restless mood.

 
; ‘Are you not going out?’ asked Mrs McKinnon, looking from the window to fields and moors now bathed in mellow sunshine. ‘I hear tell Niall’s home for a wee while before going off to fight. You should be making the most of your time together. When I was your age the blood was leapin’ in my veins – rearin’ to be off I was.’ She chuckled. ‘Aye, and look where it got me – a man that could still teach a young buck a thing or two about ruttin’ and a gift for breakin’ everything he touches. Still, I’m happy with my Tam, no brains he has but he’s done not bad without them. Yon Niall’s got brains – and a fine handsome laddie into the bargain. He’ll go far, will young McLachlan.’

  ‘If he stays alive,’ said Shona, unable to keep the bitterness from her voice.

  ‘Och havers! You mustny think so! Bide a wee – he’ll have the Germans runnin’ like gowks and thon wee man Hitler will be frothin’ like a bull without its balls, mark my words. Now, away ben and get me some dripping from the larder.’

  The morning passed quickly, thanks to Mrs McKinnon, but when she departed after lunch and the house was quiet again Shona still had not thought of a way to make amends with Niall. She didn’t want to go to his house because that would make her appear too anxious. He hadn’t come to her so she knew he was still hurt and angry and was making it clear that the first move must come from her. But it was so hard to apologize when stubborn pride seethed within. Unable to bear the house any longer she threw a cardigan over her shoulders and went outside.

  It was another day stolen from summer and the heat from the sun made her shed the cardigan quickly. Tot had opted to come out too and the golden dog and her slim, golden-skinned mistress walked together over the shaggy amber moors. Without conscious intention Shona was breasting the Hillock of Dunuaigh and looking down at the ruins of the Abbey nestling in the hollow. There was still a good half mile to go and Tot, pink tongue lolling, was tired and lagging behind. Shona picked her up and went on down the hill. The ruins of the Abbey loomed against the blue sky and she paused for breath, hoisting the sleeping old dog higher against her shoulder. Through one of the crumbling windows of the Chapel she suddenly saw Niall. He was sitting in the same place she had left him the day before and she might have thought he had spent the night there but for the fact he had changed from his uniform into his old kilt and jersey. Her heart pounded and she felt faint with her love for him. How dearly familiar he looked in his Rhanna clothes. He was disconsolate and sullen-looking and idly threw pebbles into the foaming little burn that wound its way from the mountains.