‘Ay, go on,’ Todd urged, his eyes like saucers in his ruddy round face.
Ranald, who was thoroughly enjoying himself, dropped his voice even lower so that his cronies had to lean forward to hear what he was saying. ‘When it was over, the lass was found, living in a lair like a wild animal. Her hair was matted and long, her nails like cat’s claws, her teeths worn to the gum from living on the raw flesh o’ mice and rabbits. She fought her rescuers tooth and nail for she didny want to leave the haunts she had grown used to. The only way they could get her off the hill was to wrap her in a straight-jacket bound round wi’ the toughest rope they could find. She was never the same after that and would crouch in a corner, only eating uncooked meat and raw fish. Her parents were heartbroken for they said they had lost their daughter as surely as if she had died out there in the snow.’
‘Och, the poor, poor lassie,’ Todd’s voice was husky with the suspense he was enduring. ‘But what happened to her, Ranald? Surely she didny live the rest o’ her life like that?’
‘Oh ay, she did.’ Ranald’s voice was triumphant, he had a captive audience and he was making the most of it. ‘When her mother, then her father, went to an early grave, she went back to live in her lair in the hills. As time went on she became more and more like a wild beast, vicious and snarling if anybody dared to go near her.’
At that point Ranald appeared to sink into a trance-like state, staring into the fire, sipping absently at his beer.
‘Is that the end o’ the story?’ Tam asked in disappointed tones.
Ranald started; he seemed to come back from a long way. His face was composed into serious lines, his eyes were sad. ‘Indeed no, Tam, I was shocked, shocked to the core when I read the next bit o’ the story. There is worse, much worse to come.’
‘Ay, ay, get on wi’ it, man!’ encouraged Tam, almost beside himself with anticipation.
Ranald gazed round at all the expectant faces. ‘This is hard for me, lads, very, very hard, for when I was reading the end o’ the book I was greetin’ like a baby and I don’t want to be doing that in front o’ my friends.’
‘For God’s sake!’ exploded Erchy. ‘We’ll no’ care if you drown yourself in tears! Just tell us what happened next!’
Ranald swallowed hard. ‘Well, you asked for it and here goes. It doesny really bear thinking about but the truth is this, the lassie ended up living wi a family o’ foxes! Untamed and as cunning as they were, she hunted alongside them and was sometimes seen, tearing at carcasses o’ dead animals, her teeths dripping wi’ blood, as savage as any beast o’ the forest. When she died she was eaten by the very foxes she had befriended, and only her skeleton was found. But – and here is the strange and terrible crux o’ the matter – it wasny a normal, human skeleton that was found. When the experts examined it they discovered that her incisors had grown into fangs and her nails into claws – and also . . .’ Here Ranald’s face positively glowed, ‘. . . she had grown a tail – a big, bushy red tail – exactly like a fox’s brush!’
‘But how could she have a tail on her if she had turned into a skeleton?’ Tam clamoured. ‘It would have dropped off along wi’ her skin when the foxes got her!’
‘Ay, and how did anybody know the foxes had eaten her unless they were there to see it?’ Erchy said scornfully. ‘It could have been a wild cat or rats or – or even whole batches o’ worms and grubs that had hatched out on her rotting corpse.’ The picture that his own words presented appeared to upset Erchy greatly and he sat back, looking stunned and disgusted.
‘Ach well,’ Ranald shook his head. ‘It just goes to show, every story has its weaknesses, and I have often thought I could do a better job o’ writing books myself, if only I had the time to do it in.’
‘You certainly have the imagination for it.’ Todd sounded aggrieved. He had begun to feel somewhat queasy and couldn’t face the last dregs of beer in his glass. ‘I’ll bet you ten pounds you made the last bit o’ that story up. Next time I come to your house I want you to show me that book so I can see the truth o’ it for myself.’
Ranald looked faintly worried by this. ‘Och no, Todd, you’ll no’ be able to do that. I got it from the library and had to give it back after I had read it.’
‘There is no proper library on Rhanna.’ Todd said triumphantly. ‘Only the one run by the Wimmen’s Rural in that wee hut attached to the kirk. I’ve had a good look at it myself and it’s mostly thon romantic novels and cookery books that’s in it. There’s nothing much for men at all except old Gaelic bibles and do-it-yourself magazines, so you must have the book in your house and I’ll be round tomorrow to have a wee keek at it.’
‘And then there was the question o’ her teeths,’ Tam was off on a slant of his own, still poking and prying into the all too obvious gaps in Ranald’s story. ‘You said they were worn to the gum from eating raw meat, so how could she have had those fangs you spoke about? Human people are no’ like sharks. Sharks have rows o’ new teeths growing all the time, shunting around in their jaws like they were on a conveyor belt. Folks like us canny grow new teeths to order, so how . . .?’
Much to Ranald’s relief Bull Bull put paid to further argument by coming up to stare pointedly at their empty glasses, whereupon they rose as one and made their way home to their respective dinner tables.
Huddled into his jacket, his collar pulled around his ears against the biting wind, Fergus trudged up the Glen Fallan road, reflecting moodily on his actions over the last few days. He wondered what had possessed him to go looking for a young woman he knew so little about.
She meant nothing to him, nothing! All she had done was make a damned nuisance of herself by coming to his house, infiltrating his life, upsetting his routine, and having everyone running to her beck and call. And then she had just walked out! Without a word to anyone! Never a by-your-leave nor a word of thanks for all the trouble she had caused. If she was still on Rhanna she was making a damned good job of hiding herself! If she had left, then all his efforts had been in vain, and he had made a bloody fool of himself and wasted his time into the bargain! He had only allowed her to stay at his home out of common decency, and the only reason he had tried to find her was because he had felt himself to be responsible for her in some obscure way.
There was only one course open to him now: he would have to inform the police about her disappearance. More than likely they would send P.C. George McDuff, commonly called Clodhopper because of his clumsy great feet. What good he would do in a case like this was anybody’s guess. Convinced that certain islanders were always up to mischief, he revelled in any excuse to come over to Rhanna so that he could have a go at trying to uncover unlawful misdemeanours.
One of his tricks was to hide behind the bushes near the hotel and pounce on the locals if he thought they’d had too much to drink. His other favourite game was trying to book people on drink driving charges, excelling himself on one occasion by stopping old Angus McBain on his bike and asking to see his driving licence!
Fergus had reached the track leading up to Laigmhor. It was growing dark; the hills rose up behind the white farm buildings, aloof and mysterious in the fading light. The highest and most rugged tip of Ben Madoch still wore its winter cap of snow, and the peaks of Ben Machrie were lit by the pink afterglow of sunset.
His gaze travelled back to the sturdy big farmhouse, sheltered from the prevailing wind by a grove of trees, surrounded by dykes and runs and an assortment of outbuildings. Normally he loved coming home to Laigmhor with its welcoming warmth and a hot meal waiting to be set on the table. But Kirsteen wasn’t here! She was away in Glasgow. The house would be empty and unwelcoming . . .
Why, then, was there a light shining softly in one of the downstairs windows?
Perhaps Kirsteen had come home early . . .
Perhaps . . .
His heart began to pound in his breast and for reasons unknown to him he felt like a man hypnotised as he began to walk towards the beckoning light in the window.
&nbs
p; Chapter Eleven
With his heart in his throat Fergus pushed open the door, almost afraid of who he might find waiting for him in his own kitchen.
At first he could see very little; only one lamp spread its glow over the room, combining with the firelight to create an aura of mystery that made his heart beat all the faster as he stood there, letting his eyes adjust. And then he saw her, huddled in a chair by the fire, silent, watchful, wary, that wonderful hair of hers framing her face, falling down her back in a waterfall of rich waves and curls.
‘Fern – Fern Lee.’ Her name escaped his lips, like the opening notes of a song, lyrical and sweet. He shook himself, as if awakening from a dream, and when next he spoke his tone had changed to harshness. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he demanded. ‘I’ve looked everywhere for you – I was just about to call the police . . .’
‘Please,’ she shook her head, her voice was frightened and pleading, ‘don’t be shouting at me. It’s sorry I am for wandering off like that but my thoughts were in a whirl and I didn’t seem to know what I was doing. I walked a lot at first and then I found myself in a derelict cottage and stayed there for a while. All of it happened in a daze but I kept thinking of you and it seemed only right – to come back here. It’s wonderful to be in your house again, to feel the homeliness – the warmth. I’m so . . . cold.’
She couldn’t go on, she was pale and exhausted-looking and she was shivering. Striding to the cupboard he took out a bottle of brandy and pouring out a generous measure he went back to the fire and shoved the glass into her hand.
‘Drink it, every drop,’ he ordered.
She glanced up at him, her eyes meeting his. He felt strange and breathless and going once more to the cupboard he poured himself a stiff dram and drank it down in one gulp.
He heard her coughing a little as she swallowed her brandy and without turning he said, ‘That should make you feel better. Medicinal, that’s what Mirabelle called it. She was housekeeper here for years and we all did what she told us.’
‘I’m thinking I owe you an explanation for all this,’ her voice came to his ears, low and subdued. ‘I came to this island to get away from my husband who is a brutal and abusive man. He is never done drinking and fighting and hitting me if I dare to say one word against him. I just couldn’t take any more of him so I smuggled myself aboard a fishing boat, never knowing or caring where it was going. I ended up here on Rhanna, staying hidden on the boat till I thought it was safe for me to be coming ashore. I only wanted a bit of shelter for the night and that was the reason I was after hiding myself in your barn. That was where you found me, having knocked myself out climbing up into the hayloft.’
Her voice faltered. ‘I’m truly sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused, but I have to admit how glad I am to have found a man like yourself, so different from my own in every way that I can see. I knew you were special from the minute I clapped eyes on you – that’s why I came back, why I’m here now. Let me be hearing from your own bonny lips that you’re just a wee bit pleased to be seeing me again – after all, if you didn’t care about me, you wouldn’t have gone out looking for me, would you now?’
He turned slowly to look at her. ‘You really canny expect me to answer that. I’m a married man – a happily married man – and I won’t let anything or anyone jeopardise that. You do understand what I’m saying, don’t you?’
She didn’t answer. For reasons of her own she had to have Fergus on her side and she uncoiled herself gracefully from her chair. As she stood up her eyes were fixed on him, dark and compelling. Her body swayed as she came towards him, and the movements of her limbs were cat-like, flowing, sinewy, deliberate.
Before he could stop her she had wound her arms round his neck, ensnaring him in a circle of feminine softness, gazing up at him appealingly as she whispered, ‘Please, Fergus, don’t be angry with me any more, I couldn’t bear it if I thought you hated me for all the bother I’ve been causing you.’ Her eyes held his for a long moment, then she drew his head down till their faces were almost touching. ‘Special man,’ she murmured. Her lips touched his and then their mouths merged together, deeper and deeper, in a kiss that was warm, lingering, inviting, and utterly sensuous.
Temptation washed over him like a tide. He heard her voice in his ear, low and husky, begging him to let her stay with him. ‘I feel safe here, Fergus. It wouldn’t be for long, I am just needing a little bit of time to decide what to do with my life. I promise you won’t regret it.’
Her breasts were soft and provocative against the hard wall of his chest, and he felt himself drowning in a dangerous sea of desire and longing. He fought against it, he couldn’t do this, to himself, to Kirsteen, to his family. Even as he argued with himself he was aware of his mounting passions, his arousal, his overpowering need to make love to her even if it was the last thing on earth that he did . . .
And then he looked up to see his granddaughter, seven-year-old Lorna Morag McKenzie, standing watching him, her big gentian eyes filled with solemn wonderment.
‘Lorna!’ he cried, pushing Fern away to take a few deep shaky breaths. Striding over to the little girl he dropped on his knees beside her to ruffle her dark curls and gaze into her small sweet face. ‘What are you doing here?’ he questioned gently, all the while wondering just how much the child had witnessed. ‘Surely – surely you didn’t come on your own?’
Lorna was a young creature possessed of an intelligence that went far beyond her years. Her instinct for assessing the feelings of those around her had been born in her and she seemed to know just when to be silent and when to speak. Her eyes when she looked at him held a message and he knew without asking that she wouldn’t make a fuss about what she had seen.
‘Mother and Father and Douglas are just coming,’ she informed him, her small fingers twisting nervously together as she spoke, the only sign of the agitation she was feeling at catching her adored grampa kissing a woman who bore no resemblance whatsoever to her equally adored gramma. ‘We all came in Father’s van to make your tea and I ran in first.’
The next minute the door opened and the room was filled with people all talking at once, while the youngest member of the family, five-year-old Douglas, screeched with delight at sight of Heinz, whom he regarded as his playmate.
‘I thought it would be nice if I brought the tea and we all had it together here,’ Ruth explained to her father-in-law, removing her coat as she spoke and shaking out her mane of golden hair. ‘Douglas, don’t pull the dog’s tail,’ she added in the same breath, rushing over to grab her son and smack him for his misdemeanour. It was then she saw Fern, who had returned to the fire to bathe herself in its warmth.
‘Oh,’ Ruth recoiled a little. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know there was anybody else here.’
At this point Fergus hastily intervened. ‘This is Fern Lee, the lass who’s been the talk o’ the place since she arrived. She went away for a whilie but she’s back again and needing her tea as much as anybody else here.’
With one accord everyone stared at the girl by the fire. Despite the discomforts she must have suffered over the last two days she still managed to look stunningly beautiful. Her skin was golden in the fire’s light, while her beautifully formed body looked relaxed and peaceful.
But it was only an illusion. Her great dark eyes were burning like lanterns in the sculpted perfection of her face, her head was proudly tilted, her blue-black hair cascaded round her shoulders, all combining to endow her with that gypsy-like quality that had so enchanted Fergus from the start. Heinz had fallen hopelessly in love with her and sat with his head on her lap, gazing soulfully up into her face with his big mournful eyes.
Everyone else, including the children, seemed mesmerised by the woman and Ruth experienced a pang of unease when she noticed that Lorn could hardly take his eyes off her.
‘Right!’ Ruth was the first to speak. ‘It’s high time we all had something to eat! Lorna, you set the table, Lorn, you can make yourself usefu
l by unpacking the foodstuffs and putting them over there by the stove.’
Her voice was brisk and business-like, but Lorn knew his wife and when she was busy cooking the meal he went over to her and said quietly, ‘What ails you, Ruthie? You’re like a hen on a hot girdle and you’ve got that funny look in your eye.’
‘Nothing ails me!’ She flounced about, throwing bacon into one pan, breaking eggs into another. ‘I’m just hungry, that’s all, and needing my tea.’
‘That isn’t all.’ Lorn’s handsome features darkened, his brows came together. ‘You’re looking and sounding like a damt wee spitfire! Yet when we left home to come here you were like a bairn in your eagerness to surprise my father.’
‘Ay,’ her eyes flashed, ‘if we’d come a bittie sooner we might have surprised him even more. He was all hot and bothered looking when we came in and she was just acting too cool for words.’
‘So, that’s it, eh? You’ve got it in for her and you don’t even know her.’
Ruth rounded on him. ‘Oh, I know her alright! That sort o’ woman is as easy to read as a book. And don’t think I didn’t notice the way you looked at her! As if you could have gobbled her up in one gulp and then gone back for more.’
‘Ruthie,’ he said warningly. ‘If you go on behaving like this I’m going home.’
‘That’s right!’ she flashed back. ‘Run away, like you did the time you and Rachel had that affair. Don’t think I’ve ever forgotten it! All men are the same when it comes to the bit!’
‘I didn’t run away, you did, and if you’re going to start all that again then I really am going home and leaving you to explain to Father.’
She calmed down then and gazed at him with her huge expressive eyes. ‘Oh, Lorn, I’m sorry, it’s just – I can never forget the way we all suffered when you and Rachel did what you did. Deep inside I’m afraid it might happen again wi’ somebody else. I couldn’t bear to lose you – yet . . . I know I couldn’t forgive you . . . a second time.’
A Rhanna Mystery Page 11
