There were cheers and whistles, many of the womenfolk held hankies to their eyes.
‘Mercy, mercy me,’ Kate blew her nose loudly. ‘Is he no’ a bonny mannie just? I’d like fine to run up there and throw my arms about his dear, kind shoulders.’
Elspeth was crying hardest of all, quite unable to help herself she burst into loud sobs and spluttered out, ‘Never the likes o’ him will we see on this island again, never, never. ’Tis glad I am that he and Phebie are allowing me to carry on working to them. Wi’ me being one o’ the family they just couldny bring themselves to let me go.’
‘Here, look,’ Mollie nudged Kate. ‘He is asking Doctor Megan up to the platform.’
Lachlan had gone down into the crowd, from it extracting a red-faced, protesting Megan, leading her up to the platform and holding up his hand. She was looking exceedingly attractive that evening in a softly flowing blue dress that showed her slender figure and shapely legs to advantage. The men looked at one another and commented favourably on her appearance but it was Mark James, the minister, who was most appreciative of all. He stood tall above the crowd, his eyes seeking Megan’s, throwing glances of reassurance that helped in some measure to steady her shaky legs.
Lachlan took Megan’s hand and smiled at her affectionately, then he looked all round the hall, taking in all the faces so that they felt personally included in what he was about to say. ‘I give you your new doctor – Megan Jenkins. I know from personal experience how hard it is to come to an insular community like this and to try to be accepted.’ His brows came down and he glared with mock severity at the gathering. ‘You all gave me a buggering hard time of it and Phebie an even worse one because she didn’t have a word of the Gaelic. You’ve done the same with Megan . . .’ A murmur went round and Lachlan grinned. ‘Oh yes you have and you needny try to deny it but I also know that in the short time she’s been here she’s made more progress than I did in several years, and I for one think that is an achievement which deserves three hearty cheers.’
The hall cheered willingly, swept along on a tide of delighted enthusiasm. Lachlan called Babbie up beside him and the cheers became deafening roars. Grace and Joe were recalled to the scene and stood holding hands and blushing much to the delight of everyone.
‘Charge your glasses everyone,’ Lachlan cried and there was a rush as everyone willingly obeyed. He held up his glass. ‘Here’s to our newly married couple, may they have a long and happy life, here’s to you all and may all your ails be little ones so that Megan will have a long and happy life.’ There were smiles and nudges. ‘And here’s to all our departed friends – in particular one who sat on this very same platform not so many years ago to receive her MBE, a reward she so richly deserved for her services to this community – will you join me in a toast – to Biddy.’
‘To Biddy!’ echoed the laird and the beloved and well-remembered name rang and bounced round the hall. The hankies were out again, tears and laughter mingled.
Seizing her chance to escape, Megan retreated from the platform, helped gallantly by a waiting Mark James.
‘Here, do you see that?’ Behag’s beady eyes were riveted on the two, trying to melt unobtrusively into the background.
‘I have thought as much this whily back,’ supplemented Kate eagerly. ‘They were just a mite too cool to each other for it to be natural.’
‘Well, my my,’ nodded a round-eyed Todd. ‘Who will be marryin’ the minister? He canny very well marry himself.’
Further speculation was drowned in a burst of singing that suddenly soared to the rafters. All faces were turned to the platform as the strains of ‘Keep Right On to the End of the Road’ rang forth. It was a moving and never-to-be-forgotten moment. Phebie’s eyes were wet, Lachlan’s shiny with gratitude.
Lorn took Ruth’s hand. ‘I think the time has come for us to make that trip up to Brodie’s Burn.’
She watched him propping his sticks in a corner and nodded her flaxen hair. ‘Ay, I think you’re right,’ she agreed softly and held out her arm to him.
As they left the hall the well-known notes of ‘Will Ye No’ Come Back Again’ soared up from within.
‘We’re no’ goin’ anywhere,’ hiccuped Tam who, with a few of his contemporaries, was lounging lopsidedly on the steps at the door.
It was a warm, fragrant evening, with cottonwool clouds sailing in a blue, endless sky. Lorn looked up and smiled. Lewis would have called it a fluffy cloud night. He seemed very close as Lorn walked with Ruth up to the green slopes that led to Brodie’s Burn. Lorn took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. His face, now bronzed and healthy as it had been before his accident, was lit with a glow that came from deep within his soul. He felt strong and happy, Ruthie was by his side, her hair a sheaf of gold against the great ball of the sinking sun. The hills and woods were carpeted with so many bluebells they looked like blue grass from a distance. Ranks of them flanked the banks of the burn tumbling down from the bens, onwards they marched, blue scented, beautiful. Lorn climbed steadily, feeling that he could never tire.
When they reached the Seanachaidh’s Stone they sat on its sun-warmed surface and holding hands gazed down at the panorama spread below. The dear green land that was their home lay stretched out in undulations of purest greens and misted blues; the Sound of Rhanna sparkled like a sapphire; little puffs of peat smoke spiralled from the chimneys of the white sugar lump cottages around the bay; the purling of the burn was music that blended with the tumbling song of the skylark; fish jumped in the umber-coloured trout pool beneath the stones; the dew-fresh fingers of young ferns were slowly unfurling among the massed white flowerets of wild carrot which fought the bluebells for supremacy.
‘Ruthie, Ruthie,’ Lorn put his arm round her and drew her in close. ‘I feel truly blessed to have all this – and above all – you.’
Ruth put her head on his shoulder and hugged her knees. Lorn was warm and hard beside her, the hills of her home were at her feet. Far, far in distant glens a cuckoo was calling, the evocative sound of it mingling with the bubbling song of the curlew from the meadows down below. A bubble of pure happiness burst out of her heart, and it seemed to her, as she sat on the Seanachaidh’s Stone with the man she loved, that a haunting melody pulsed against the hills. A little cry of joy escaped her for she knew, as surely as she knew night from day, that the song which was borne to her on the summer breezes whispering down from the hilltops could only be the poignant, unforgettable strains of the Song of Rhanna.
Song of Rhanna (The Rhanna series) Page 34
