Song of Rhanna (The Rhanna series)

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Ruth’s lips tightened. ‘She is very tired and badly needing a rest. Jon’s mother is ill and he has gone to Germany to be with her, so Rachel is coming home to Rhanna – I have asked her to stay with me as I knew fine you didn’t have the room.’

  ‘Well now, that is kind o’ you, Ruth,’ Annie’s tones were cold. ‘If she had written to ask me I would no doubt have found a corner for her, but you are solving all our problems.’

  ‘That’s settled then.’ Ruth stood up, avoiding the questions in Shona’s eyes. ‘She’ll be here in a week or two and will likely be along to see you when she’s settled.’

  ‘Tell her to come and see me as well,’ directed Nancy good-naturedly. ‘I like fine when Rachel comes home. It’s exciting to hear all about the furrin parts she’s visited. If I’d known I could have had her stay wi’ me though she would have had to share a room wi’ Janet. I’m sure Janet wouldny have minded, she loves to know what’s going on in the world.’

  The door burst open and Kate came breezing in, skirling with pleasure when she saw the roomful of people, sweeping the children into her strong capable arms. Her two daughters obviously had much to tell her. They both started talking at once and the babble of voices, mingling with a high-pitched, pitiful wailing from the dog whose tail had been trodden on, was deafening.

  Close on Kate’s heels came Dodie, the island’s old eccentric, whom Kate had invited in for his afternoon strupak. When he saw the roomful of womenfolk he was temporarily nonplussed and stood nervously in the middle of the floor, stretching his lips and fiddling with the frayed edges of his greasy cuffs.

  ‘Here, Dodie, drink this,’ Ruth pushed her untouched whisky into his cold hands. ‘It will warm you up. Go and sit on that wee stool by the fire and toast your feet. You could be doing with a good heat I’m sure.’

  In making for the indicated spot Dodie did not melt unobtrusively into the background. He lunged for the fireplace, by some miracle missing the cats and the tortoise, but tripping over the hen so that he arrived on the lumpy contours of a fireside chair much sooner than intended. Clucking with indignation the hen rose up in the air; the children shrieked; the tortoise withdrew into its shell; the hen came back down to earth with ruffled feathers and took refuge under the table where it went to sleep roosting on a cross-spar; the dog moaned quietly under its breath then went to plant its muzzle on Dodie’s knee, sensing that there was sympathy to be had there. Closing his eyes, Dodie stretched his wellington-clad feet to the fire while his big hands gently fondled the mongrel’s remaining ear. Within minutes the heat had coaxed the trapped smells from the old man’s boots but he sat on happily, oblivious to both the odour and the innuendoes cast at him by all three McKinnon women.

  Shona and Ruth smothered their giggles and seizing their respective offspring made good their escape. A roomful of McKinnons was an overpowering and often a rather frustrating experience, since they all tended to talk at once making it difficult for anyone else to get in a word, ‘no’ even edgeways’ as Torquill was wont to complain to his companions.

  Once on the glen road the smiles left Shona however and turning to Ruth she demanded, ‘What did you mean back there when you said you had invited Rachel? It’s the first I knew of it.’

  The wind whipped Ruth’s hair over her eyes and she pushed it away with an impatient hand. ‘Och, I had to say that, Shona. You heard Annie, going on about Rachel as if she was a stranger. She never could thole her and now Rachel’s made a name for herself things are even worse. I know she’s proud of her in her own way but she never understood her and with Rachel away so often they’ve grown further apart than ever.’

  ‘Are you going to ask her to stay with you?’ Shona asked bluntly.

  Ruth hesitated, thinking of Lorn, what he would have to say on the matter. Casting him out of her thoughts she squared her shoulders and looked Shona straight in the eye. ‘Ay, Shona, I am. It will be lovely to have her, I could be doing with the company and Rachel could be doing with a break. She won’t get that at the hotel or at her mother’s, and Nancy’s place is just as bad – so is Kate’s.’

  ‘Lorn won’t like it,’ Shona warned, her blue eyes full of an unusual disapproval.

  Ruth lifted Douglas up and put out her hand to Lorna, trying to appear nonchalant as she said, ‘He’ll just have to, won’t he?’

  ‘I’m sure Babbie and Anton would be pleased to have her.’ Shona wasn’t going to let the matter rest so easily. ‘You said they had asked both Rachel and Jon to stay.’

  ‘Only when Jon comes back from Germany. Rachel doesn’t want to go to Croft na Ard without him. Babbie and Anton are out a lot and she would be left on her own. She’ll enjoy it better with me.’

  ‘With you, ay, but not with Lorn. He throws daggers at her every time they meet.’

  Ruth tilted her chin while her violet eyes grew dark with determination. ‘It’s high time he got over all that, he’s behaving like a baby and I’m not going to give in to his sulks this time.’

  Shona had to smile. ‘You know, you grow more like a McKenzie every day, Ruth. I thought I was the only stubborn female in the clan.’

  Ruth smiled back. ‘I am a McKenzie in case you didn’t know. I have learned that to survive living with one you have to become one and not just in name either. McKenzie o’ the Glen fathered a fine brood of dour-tempered, pigheaded bairns but they are no’ the only ones to stand in front o’ the wind and dare it to stop blowing.’

  Shona gave vent to a shriek of merriment. ‘You know, Ruth, there was a time when you would hardly say boo to a goose, but you’ve changed, mo ghaoil, that you have. ’Tis proud I am to have you for a sister-in-law.’

  The wind was whipping the roses into Ruth’s pale cheeks, but at Shona’s words they bloomed to a fiery red. Shona had always been her friend, her ally in times of trouble, her comforter in times of stress – yet she had always stood slightly in awe of the beautiful, wilful daughter of the McKenzie household, had always felt that she was too shy and serious to ever be on a par with such a vibrant personality.

  But now she lost some of that awe and the knowledge grew within her that one day she would walk as tall as any McKenzie – she had to if she was to survive as the wife of Lorn McKenzie whose pride and stubbornness sometimes worried her. When he was in one of his blacker moods, he refused to see anybody’s point of view but his own and she was always the first to back down and say she was sorry. But this was one time she was going to stand firm – she wouldn’t let him come between her and Rachel – too many people had tried to do that – first her mother – now Lorn.

  They had reached the track that led to Fàilte and she paused. ‘I’ll get along now, Shona.’

  ‘Ay, let me know how you get on with Lorn.’ Shona waved and walked away, her steps light, a good warm feeling in her breast as she hugged Ellie Dawn close to it. She was looking forward to Niall coming home that evening and she forgot about Ruth as she made her way homeward. Ruth watched her go and a sigh escaped her. Shona was lucky having a husband like Niall, a very understanding and sensible sort of man, rarely prone to rages or unreasonable behaviour, good-naturedly letting Shona have her way in the things that meant a lot to her.

  Ruth thought of her tall, handsome husband and a tiny smile hovered at her mouth. Would she change him if she could? No, she decided, she loved him just as he was – if only he wasn’t so strong-minded. She might be able to handle him better if he hadn’t inherited so much of his father’s difficult ways.

  Chapter Three

  The cottage was warm and welcoming as Ruth let herself in. The fire slumbered in the hearth; the clock on the mantelpiece tick-tocked the lazy minutes away; Bramble sat atop the oven washing his face; Ben thumped his tail in welcome but didn’t open his eyes; Mallow, the dainty little white female cat, rolled on her back and opening her pink mouth squeaked out a half-hearted miaow.

  But the tranquillity of the house failed to find an echo in Ruth’s heart. On the walk up the track some of her earlier r
esolution had dissolved and a glance at the clock further weakened what was left. Lorn would be home in an hour and she knew if she still felt as she did when he appeared she would have no courage left to face him with her decision about Rachel.

  Peeling off her coat she settled the children and spent a busy hour, filling it with numerous domestic tasks in order to keep herself occupied and keep her mind off the confrontation with Lorn. He came home in a cheery mood, ravenously hungry, complimenting her on her cooking, in fact doing and saying all the right things to make her even more reluctant to shatter what she knew would have been a happy evening.

  But her mind was made up and when the children were in bed and she and Lorn settled cosily by the fire, she cleared her throat and said as firmly as her fast-beating heart would allow, ‘I went over to see Annie this afternoon and one look at that boorach of a house made me realize why Rachel would rather stay anywhere but there.’

  Mallow was stretched comfortably on Lorn’s knee, her great purrs of contentment filling the room as his fingers raked the silky fur at her neck. Lorn appeared to be engrossed with the cat and merely grunted at Ruth’s words. She looked at him, at his lithe body stretched out on the chair, at the fire-shadowed hollows of his darkly handsome face, at the firm, rebellious set of his mouth – and she fancied she saw a hint of mockery in the glance he threw at her from under his brows. Oh, he was like his father all right! No, more than that, the image of him, not just in looks but in nature – and she had heard many stories of what Fergus had been like at Lorn’s age. A flicker of anger kindled inside her, giving her the spur she needed for what she had to say.

  ‘I’m asking Rachel to come here to stay. It will only be for a wee whily – till Jon comes over, and it will be company for me. I could often be doing with someone to blether with when you’re out all day.’ The words came tumbling out breathlessly and she was angry at herself because she had wanted to sound firm, sure of herself.

  ‘No!’ Lorn’s hand came crashing down on the arm of the chair, startling Mallow, who fled from his knee to crouch under the table. Ruth’s head jerked up to stare at her husband in disbelief. She had expected opposition, but nothing quite so violent as this. He was glaring at her, his eyes glittering beneath lowered brows, his body tensed as if ready to spring.

  ‘Why? Och, why are you saying that? Without giving me a chance to explain?’ The protest was torn from her, her voice high and agitated in her throat.

  ‘You don’t have to explain!’ He threw the words at her, black fury in his icy tones. ‘I canny bide Rachel and fine you know it. I will not have her in my house!’

  ‘It’s my house too!’ she tossed back at him. ‘And I don’t see what makes you think you have the right to order me about. I will not be browbeaten, by you or anyone else. Rachel’s my friend. Oh, I will admit I was angry at her too after what happened between herself and Lewis, but it was all a long time ago and I’ve forgiven her. It’s high time you did too. You’re behaving like a spoilt baby and I won’t stand for it. I am going to ask Rachel to stay here whether you like it or not.’

  Slowly he uncoiled his lean frame and got up to stand over her. ‘Do that, Ruthie, and you’ll only have yourself to blame for the consequences. I will not bide under the same roof as Rachel McKinnon – or Jodl – whatever she calls herself. You and she can have a nice cosy time on your own, for I won’t be around to share it; there’s plenty of places I can go to get out of the road.’

  She drew in her breath painfully, hearing only the dull thudding of her heart in her ears, seeing only his black menacing shadow dancing on the wall opposite the fire – for she didn’t dare look up at him, the very power of his presence being enough to turn her insides to jelly. She twisted her shaking fingers together and, getting up, pushed past him to place another lump of peat on the fire, her legs so strange beneath her she felt as if they didn’t belong to her body. Leaning against the mantelpiece she laid her head on her arm and spoke slowly and deliberately, knowing if she didn’t she might never get the words out.

  ‘Very well, Lorn, if that’s what you want . . .’

  ‘It isn’t what I want . . .’ Seizing her roughly by the arm he spun her round to face him. ‘It’s what you want, isn’t it, Ruthie, to have Rachel here regardless of my feelings on the matter?’

  She pulled her arm away and turned her face away from him. ‘You’re talking nonsense, Lorn, and you know it,’ she whispered. ‘There’s absolutely no need for you to behave like this. Why don’t you give Rachel a chance? Please, Lorn, for my sake if not hers.’

  ‘No, Ruthie.’ His lips were very close to her ear and she shivered. ‘I don’t want Rachel here upsetting everything . . .’ She jerked her head round to voice her disbelief in his words, but before she could open her mouth he went on forcibly, ‘That’s right, Ruthie, upsetting everything. We’re fine as we are, we don’t need Rachel here, she – she’s a strange lass, she rubs people up the wrong way . . .’

  ‘Ay, rubs you up the wrong way, you mean,’ she accused him bitterly. ‘If I didny know better, I’d say you were jealous of her, ay, that’s right, Lorn, jealous. You want it all your own way; your house, your bairns running to welcome you, your dear obedient little wife always here at your beck and call, always ready and willing to please. You’re jealous of anyone who might come and disrupt the nice cosy wee routine of the Lord and Master – and most of all you’re jealous of Rachel because with a few exceptions she’s the only other living person I care truly for.’

  Catching her arms he pinioned them to her sides, rendering her powerless to move. His jaw was tense, his eyes black with anger. ‘Ruthie, you’re a fool,’ he rasped harshly. ‘Sometimes I honestly believe you still see yourself and Rachel as bairns, giggling your wee secrets into her ears, whispering your fairy tales at her. You’re not a bairnie anymore, Ruthie, and neither is Rachel. You’re both grown women now and it’s high time you, at any rate, started to behave like one. I’m asking you for the last time to get this nonsense about Rachel out of your head.’

  But she wasn’t listening. She was laughing, an incredulous, mocking laugh that rang eerily round the firelit room. He was telling her to grow up, when all the time he was the one who was behaving like an unreasoning infant.

  She struggled to free her arms. ‘Let go of me this minute, Lorn, I’m going to bed. I won’t stay here another second and listen to your childish nonsense. Let go of me, Lorn!’

  Yet the more she struggled the tighter he held her and she saw from the fiery gleam in his eye that he was enjoying his feeling of power over her. Ruth seldom got into the kind of rages that were commonplace in the McKenzie clan, but now a burst of fury seized her, giving her the strength to wrench her arm away from his vice-like grip. Blinded by anger and frustration she lashed out at him, her nails digging into the flesh of his face to leave a trail of bloody ragged furrows along the length of one cheek. He let her go, so abruptly she almost fell backwards into the grate. He was breathing heavily, the corner of his mouth stained with gathering blood, a depth in his anger she had never seen before.

  ‘Away you go then,’ he spoke roughly and contemptuously. ‘When this is all over and done with, we’ll find out who the child is among us. Go on then, go and hide yourself in the bedroom: women are all the same when it comes to the bit – they simply run away when the truth is staring them in the face and they canny see it for looking.’

  She went hurriedly out of the room, her limp pronounced as it always was when her mind was in a turmoil. She half thought of going to sleep in the little spare room but decided no – she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing how much he had upset her. She stood for a moment in the hall, forcing herself into a state of calm before going through to take a last look at the children.

  ‘Mam,’ Lorna’s voice came sleepily. ‘I fink Douglas did it on himself. He’s smelly.’ Ruth went into the bedroom with its bright walls and polished wooden floor. Lorna was sitting up in bed, cherubic-looking in her fluffy pink nightdr
ess, her big eyes questioning as she said, ‘Why were you and Favver shouting?’

  Ruth tucked her up and planted a kiss on her rosy cheek. ‘Go to sleep, my babby, you and Douglas get angry at each other sometimes and your father and I have our wee rows too. It’s nothing for you to worry your wee head about.’

  Douglas was gurgling contentedly in his cot, his long silken lashes caressing his plump baby cheeks like twin fans. Ruth changed him with as little fuss as possible, knowing only too well that once properly wakened he was quite capable of keeping the rest of the household in the same state till the early hours.

  Ruth was dismayed to find that Lorn had beaten her into bed as she had hoped to be under the blankets and pretending to be asleep by the time he came in. She got undressed quickly, shivering as she shrugged herself into her night things. In the cold nights of winter it was lovely to snuggle into her husband, to feel the heat of his body beating into her, his strong arms holding her close. But there would be none of that tonight. As soon as she slid under the big fluffy quilt, Lorn heaved himself round so that the rigid column of his back was to her. They lay as far from one another as possible, thinking their separate thoughts, each acutely aware of the other but neither making the move that would begin the process of making up.

  Ruth felt utterly miserable, telling herself over and over that nothing was worth this. But after a few minutes of tense, wakeful silence her anger returned and she told herself fiercely that this was one time she wasn’t going to make the first move. The silence of the dark room enshrouded her, emphasizing her feelings of desolation and she couldn’t suppress a little shiver.

  Lorn moved, seemed closer than before, she could feel his heat radiating over her back, he made a small sighing sound, then came a tiny snore and she realized with horror that he was asleep. Tears of frustration squeezed between her tense eyelids. Oh God! Were all men like Lorn? Able to sleep and be utterly and boorishly normal under any circumstances?