Rhanna

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Something black and ragged flapped in the distance. She recognized Dodie coming from the hill track, obviously bent for the village. She almost screamed his name but for a moment he appeared not to hear, then she realized he’d slipped on the hill and couldn’t stop for a time but his arm was raised and she heard his familiar, ‘He breeah!’ with something akin to hysterical laughter. He loped up, dusting snow from his coat, his stained teeth showing his pleasure at being hailed.

  ‘He breeah!’ she greeted him swiftly. ‘Could you take a message to Biddy for me, Dodie?’

  His face fell and his peculiar mourning eyes brimmed with tears. It was obvious he was disappointed and she suspected he’d been hoping to partake of a cosy Strupak at Slochmhor.

  ‘It’s a fair walk,’ he pointed out sadly, ‘and Merry Mary was keeping my baccy.’

  ‘Father will give you some later and . . .’ She gripped his arm impulsively. ‘Come over tomorrow for a bite of Christmas dinner. I’m cooking it myself though Kate McKinnon made me the dumpling but – hurry now to Biddy and tell her Tina’s baby is coming.’

  His face lit with joy. Christmas dinner for Dodie was hardly different from any other day. People were kind and gave him tit-bits but other than that his festivities were sparse. He flapped away with his giant lolloping gait.

  She scrunched back through the snow to the cottage. A squadron of hens raced helter-skelter to meet her and she realized they probably hadn’t yet been fed.

  ‘Where’s the hens’ pot, Tina?’ she called.

  ‘On the bunker,’ answered Tina through clenched teeth.

  Shona spent the next half-hour washing up and boiling pans of water. She was glad to be doing something because the moans coming from the sofa frightened her more than she could have believed. She piled peat on the fire and removed a skelf from Donald’s finger.

  ‘Muvver’s greetin’,’ he observed in his childish lilting voice. ‘Muvver’s belly sore.’ He drew his hand across his eyes and screwed his nose with the back of a dirty hand. The threatening tears spilled over to be scrubbed away on Dot the collie’s floppy ears.

  ‘Weesht,’ soothed Shona. ‘We’ll get mother cooried in bed. Doctor will be here soon because there’s going to be a new baby. Biddy will be here too.’

  ‘Biddy,’ beamed Donald who loved the green-cloaked, kenspeckle figure. A visit from her meant a boiling to suck and spectacles to play with and the most amazing teeth that simply lifted from her mouth in two whole pieces.

  Tina didn’t want to go to bed. ‘A nice cup o’ tea first, mo ghaoil. I’ve such a drouth on me.’ She got up and began to pace again, her hands gripping her back, her legs splayed wider than ever.

  Shona got the tea and wished someone would come. She looked from the window and saw a blanket of whirling snowflakes.

  ‘Is anyone coming at all yet?’ asked Tina who had collapsed again on the sofa, her face very pale and her eyes showing her pain.

  Shona shook her head wordlessly.

  ‘God, make them hurry,’ prayed Tina aloud. ‘The pains are coming so fast now, I don’t think it will be long. ’Tis hell so it is, lass, just hell!’

  She let out a sharp cry and both Donald and Shona stared wide-eyed.

  ‘Muvver’s dyin’,’ yelled Donald and his nose frothed profusely.

  Shona ran to the door and looked out along the path. Nothing moved in the swirling snowstorm, only the trees stood like sentinels on the fringe of the fields. Another cry came from within and she hurried inside. Tina was writhing and the sweat stood on her brow. Shona felt sick and giddy but she took Tina’s hand. ‘They won’t be long, Tina. It’s just the snow’s so heavy and walking will be difficult. I’ll put on my boots and go up the track for a wee bit. I can give Biddy an arm though Lachlan will most likely be there . . . pray God!’ she ended in a fervent whisper.

  But Tina kept hold of her hand. ‘Stay wi’ me, Shona. Och please! The bairn’s coming, I can feel it! It’s been making me push for the last two pains. Could – could you have a wee look? Just a quick peep. Biddy could tell me the colour o’ Donald’s hair at this stage.’

  Shona’s heart was racing and she pushed copper strands from her eyes. ‘I’ll – I’ll get a bowl of water first! I think I’ll bathe your brow.’

  Her hands trembled as she lifted a heavy black pot from the fire. The fact that she had to step over cats and dogs, strewn uncaringly on the rug, made her task all the more difficult, but she held the steaming bowl aloft and went to Tina.

  Donald sat solemnly amidst the animals, his thumb in his mouth, watching the bulk of belly, all that he could see of his mother, heaving on the sofa.

  ‘You’ll need some sheets and cotton wool,’ whispered Tina, her eyes dark and pleading. ‘It’s all in a wee bag under the bed. The – baby’s shawl is in there too.’

  Shona’s eyes were very blue in her white face. ‘Tina – I – I – can’t. I’ve brought forth a lamb before and helped my father pull the calves from the cows but never – never a baby!’

  ‘It’s the same thing,’ urged Tina. ‘Easier than a calf. I’ll do most of it but you’ve got to help a wee bit. I’ll tell you what to do. Och – mo ghaoil – one day you’ll have a bairn, of your own and you’ll need all the help you can get.’

  Shona looked down at the young woman and said gently, ‘Tina, tell me what to do for I’m shaking like a newborn lamb.’

  ‘Have – a wee look and tell me how much you can see o’ the bairn’s head.’

  Donald sucked his thumb and rocked himself, looking calmly up the dark tunnel of his mother’s legs ending in a pit of blackness where, from his position, nothing was visible. But Shona saw a crown of fine hair and the sight made her draw in her breath and feel unaccountably thrilled.

  ‘Your baby’s got fair hair, Tina.’

  ‘Never! Och, it’ll be a girl, I know – I wish I could see the other end.’

  Shona tucked the sheets over the sofa then bathed Tina’s face and gave her sips of cold water. She was panting and pushing and gripping Shona’s arm till it was red and bruised.

  Half an hour passed. Shona went to the door again but the snow was heavier and she could see nothing. Mathew will be home soon, she thought. Father won’t keep him in weather like this.

  The cottage was unbearably warm and she wished she hadn’t piled the fire so high.

  ‘Shona!’ Tina’s cry pierced the air. ‘The bairn’s coming now!’

  She was pushing, her face red and her lips clamped in a straight line. Her legs were spread, one braced against the back of the sofa, the other waving in mid-air. She grabbed the limb and held on to it, uncaringly displaying the huge pale dome of her belly with its untidy sprinkling of pubic hair. Donald looked up from the absorbing pleasure of licking butter from a scone.

  Shona had no time to be afraid. She stared breathlessly at the gleaming circle of the baby’s head. Tina’s whole being was absorbed in getting the child out from her body. Her face was upturned, her eyes were closed, and elbows dug into the couch to further the terrible, supreme effort a woman has to make in childbirth.

  The small circle grew bigger. Tina gave a mighty push, her voice catching in her throat in a half sob. Suddenly the small head was expelled and with it a rush of amniotic fluid. Instinctively Shona supported the warm slithery little head. She was still apprehensive but now a sense of wonder held her and she wanted to help the small thread of life all she could.

  Tina lay back exhausted and the baby’s head hung helplessly. Tina gathered her remaining strength and strained for a moment. The baby shot out in a rush of fluid to lie still and lifeless in the pool that had buffered it for the last nine months. The waxy white coils of the umbilical lifeline were yet attached to the placenta inside Tina and Shona stared helplessly at the awesome sight.

  ‘The – the baby’s a funny blue colour,’ she whispered.

  ‘So was Donald, it’s natural, hold it up by the feet and smack its wee bum.’

  But there was no need. The ti
ny form jerked and gasped, its mouth opened, and it cried loudly and clearly.

  Donald toddled over and pointed. ‘Doll’s crying!’ he reported happily and clapped his hands. Tina lifted her head to look and the tears of joy sprang to her eyes. ‘It’s a wee lass, och, wrap it in the shawl away from the mess. Everything else will keep for a whiley.’

  Ironically, everyone arrived at once. Biddy, supported by Mathew, slithered in, her coat hem soaked and her spectacles askew. As always she was slightly indignant about everything. Dodie’s rude awakening of her cosy afternoon nap had given her ‘bellyache’ and he’d been no help at all on the treacherous Glen road. She was soaked and frozen and needing a ‘cuppy’ but as always the sight of the newborn softened her kindly old face and brought forth as much excitement as the new mothers felt themselves. She stared at Tina’s new baby and threw up her hands. ‘Mercy! It’s come! And the deliverer wee Shona McKenzie none other! Mathew, get the whisky. We’ll all be needin’ a dram, I’m thinkin’!’

  She went to cut the birth cord and deliver Tina of the placenta. When Lachlan arrived he found a clean mother and baby and a slightly inebriated old midwife, minus teeth and spectacles, reclining beside two cats in the armchair. Donald peered from behind spectacles and grinned at him with a mouth grossly misshapen by its burden of extra teeth.

  Mathew, overjoyed by his tiny daughter’s arrival, was in danger of collapsing on Biddy’s knee as he refilled her glass from the almost empty whisky bottle. ‘It’s a wee lass,’ he greeted Lachlan, ‘a bonny wee lass. I couldny have given Tina a nicer Christmas present if I’d tried – eh?’ He grinned in a gluttony of self-satisfaction and knocked Biddy’s hat off for the third time.

  Lachlan had to smile. It was usual for new fathers to take most of the credit for their offspring till sleepless nights and cold meals, served late by a disgruntled wife, brought them quickly to their senses. Mathew was wallowing in his hour of glory and Tina, only slightly weary looking, was letting him have his way. She was quietly radiant and it wasn’t easy to believe she had just endured an afternoon of agonizing labour. Her daughter slept warmly and peacefully by her side and she stared at the tiny red face in wonder.

  Lachlan went over to admire the newborn infant. ‘A bonny wee lassie right enough and she arrived on the eve of Christmas. She’ll be a blessed bairn.’

  ‘Doctor, you have just given me her name, I’ll call her Eve.’ Tina’s satisfaction was complete. ‘It’s a bonny name for a bonny wee lass.’

  ‘And thank Biddy for getting here in time to deliver her,’ said Lachlan. ‘It’s a treacherous road over the Glen today and myself out with the family would never have got here in time.’

  ‘Och but doctor, it was not Biddy either! Wee Shona McKenzie brought my bairn forth and the Lord be thanked for her. I don’t know what I would have done without her. She fetched and carried and saw to Donald.’

  Biddy staggered upright holding her glass aloft. ‘Praise be to the Lord for Tina’s safe delivery and thanks be to our Shona.’

  Lachlan turned his dark head to look at Shona and saw that she was fast asleep on a small hard rocking chair. She looked very young with her smooth flushed skin and long tresses of silken hair hanging over her shoulders. Biddy’s words brought back the long ago night at Laigmhor with the storm freezing his marrow and the terrible tragic aftermath of the weary struggle with the dark angel of death. The results of that night had been many but the most loving and lasting had been Shona. She and his son loved and because of them the lives of all of them were inextricably bound together. He knew she was missing Niall badly. Despite her vivacity and spirited nature there had always been an aura of contentment about her; now he sensed a restlessness and looking closer he thought there was a weariness in the youthful shadows of her face. She stirred and uttered a small cry but smiled when she realized where she was.

  Lachlan took her hand. ‘Doing me out of a job, I hear. It’s proud I am of you, lassie, and thinking you deserve a cuppy. If our new father would care to stop patting himself on the back he might make us all one. After all – though he did most of the work according to what I’m told – there were other parties who just might have helped a wee bitty.’

  Mathew reddened and hastened to put on the kettle and Biddy, toothless and barely able to see, nodded with satisfaction. ‘Just what we all need. The daft bugger might have given the bairn birth himself the way he’s carryin’ on. Ach well, I suppose it’s only natural.’ She fixed her dim eyes on Shona who was yawning and stretching. ‘It’ll be the same wi’ you my wee lass when your time comes. Young Niall will take all the credit – it’s the way o’ things.’

  For a moment Shona’s arms remained in mid-air. She wondered wildly if the cunning old midwife could possibly have guessed her secret. But Biddy was toasting her feet and had apparently forgotten her surroundings. Her smile was very toothless and alcohol appeared to have taken her mind faraway.

  Shona held her breath because she wanted to cry. She was beginning to misconstrue innocent remarks and knew she would go on doing so till the truth was out. She glanced at Lachlan and wondered sadly if she ought to unburden herself to him. He was always so fair about everything and wouldn’t be likely to fly into a rage like her father. But telling Lachlan would be the easy way out and something in her make-up had always prevented her taking the easier course. She was proud and stubborn but above all else she was true to herself and that had always meant being true to those she loved most. No matter how nasty or unpleasant, her father was the person to know first. She fingered Niall’s letter in her pocket. If only he were coming home that would solve a lot but his leaves were not long enough and the war was getting more serious which meant young men like Niall were desperately needed in the fight.

  She sipped her tea and felt very scared because she alone carried the burden of her knowledge. The man she loved could do nothing to help her. She wasn’t even going to tell him about the baby, not until it became more real to herself. At the moment it was all like a dream. She looked at Tina crooning over her baby but the sight did nothing to cheer her. Her baby wasn’t real like Tina’s and she couldn’t imagine herself going through the ordeal she had witnessed that day.

  Childlike, she turned her mind away from herself and thought about Christmas. The snow made it all very real and created just the right atmosphere for presents, turkey, and plum pudding, Christmas trees and carols. Alick and Mary were coming with the twins: the thought of their cheery, lively presence at Laigmhor made her smile.

  She jumped up. She had a lot to do and she had to get home. Biddy groaned and began pulling on her boots. Everyone was making a move to go and she wasn’t letting Lachlan away so easily when he might offer to take her home in the trap. She didn’t relish the thought of plodding up the Glen in the snow. She sighed and wondered how long she could go on. She was seventy-three and beginning to feel it but she would be lost without her patients and her babies. She was greying and old-looking, with her grizzled thin hair escaping her hat and her cheeks wrinkled and sunken, but there was still a dignity about her bearing. She gently prised her belongings from Donald and went through to the kitchen to rinse her teeth.

  ‘Let’s go, mo ghaoil,’ she said to Shona, grinning resplendently. She took the girl’s arm and wanted for a moment to hold her close and tell her not to worry. She wasn’t going to find the months ahead easy and the old woman prayed that Niall would come out of the war alive so that Shona’s child would have his name.

  Her throat felt tight with sorrow for all the torrential emotions that girls like Shona must bear alone. She had given herself away so easily, the reddening of the face and the long silence at Biddy’s words. Oh, they had been innocent enough until they were uttered, but the reaction to them had caused the seemingly unobservant old midwife to note all the usual signs, the thickening of a normally diminutive waist, the pinched face, the tired pallor, all so plain to an expert looking for them.

  Biddy sighed again and hoped that Helen McKenzie’s
daughter would give birth easier than her mother had done all those years ago.

  PART EIGHT

  1940

  FIFTEEN

  The swelling sounds of spring filled the air, the most compelling being those of the newborn lambs. Shona, coming from Portcull with a laden basket, paused to catch her breath and gaze at the lambing fields. She saw her father with some of the men, dark specks in the distance, with two smaller dots that were sheepdogs frisking busily.

  Biddy was coming down the hill-track from Nigg, her green cape lifting in the gentle breeze from the sea. She was panting and slightly askew as usual. A smile lit her face when she saw the girl leaning by the dyke.

  ‘It’s yourself, lass? My, I’m damty tired so I am. Been sitting with Mamie McKinnon for three hours so I have and then the pains go – just like a puff o’ wind. It happens sometimes. How is it with you, my wee one?’

  Her scrutiny appeared careless yet she took in everything.

  ‘I’m fine, Biddy,’ answered Shona pulling herself up quickly. Her clothes were loose-fitting and she was neat to be in her sixth month of pregnancy but nevertheless she knew she couldn’t hide her condition much longer.

  ‘Aye,’ Biddy gazed into the distance, ‘fine you look too, mo ghaoil – for a lass so far gone with child.’ She heard the surprised intake of breath but stayed the stammered protestations with a gentle touch of her hand. ‘Weesht, lassie,’ she whispered kindly, ‘I’m an auld hand at the game – remember? I was tendin’ pregnant lasses afore you were born and I know the signs fine. I’ve known for a long time about you and I’m thinkin’ it’s high time you told your father. You haven’t yet, eh?’