A Rhanna Mystery

by Christine Marion Fraser

  ‘And I’ve learned a new song specially for him,’ Ellie Dawn added importantly.

  ‘He is a busy man and he had to go out again but I’ll send him up the minute he comes in,’ Fern promised, dropping a kiss on each of the rosy cheeks before crossing the landing to her own room.

  Much later, when the children had exhausted themselves entertaining their beloved grampa and the room had grown still and quiet, Fergus, in an equal state of exhaustion, threw himself into a wickerwork chair near the window and closed his eyes.

  The even breathing of the children filtered peacefully through the silence, the ‘grand old lady’ in the hall chimed out the hour of eleven o’clock, and the wind sighed soulfully through the windbreak of trees round the house. He opened his eyes and turned his head to stare at the silhouette of the dark night hills outside the window. Rugged, powerful, eternal, they stood sentinal over the land, hills that he had gazed upon since boyhood and which had always given him a restful sense of security.

  But he could find no solace in them tonight. His senses were in a turmoil, his mind wouldn’t be still; all sorts of thoughts were crowding into it, the uppermost being the scene with Bob in the fields, to be quickly followed by the cause of it all, the unsettling interlude with Fern in the kitchen.

  Try as he might he couldn’t rid himself of visions of her and he moved restlessly, wishing his stomach would unwind, wishing all sorts of things but most of all wishing to God he’d never clapped eyes on the girl! All she had ever done was disrupt his peace of mind and destroy the very things he had worked all his life to build up.

  Because none of it seemed to have much meaning anymore, nothing mattered as much as it had. All he could think of was her, lying there in the next room, waiting for him to come to her . . .

  He was damned if he would give in! How could he even contemplate such an act with his grandchildren here in the house, lost in their innocent repose, trusting that he would be there should they waken and need the comfort of his presence.

  Fern could wait forever for all he cared! She meant nothing to him! Nothing!

  The touch of her mouth on his swam into his mind. It was as if she was there in the room with him, the sweetness of her perfume drowning his senses, her lips tempting him beyond endurance, her eyes beckoning him, her lithesome body swaying seductively as she moved slowly towards him. Sweat broke on his brow. Getting up he paced the floor in his stockinged feet. Up down, up down, he padded, like a caged animal yearning for its freedom, wanting only to escape the bondage that held it captive, to break away from a life that was repetitive, dull, and meaningless . . .

  Abruptly he stopped pacing, knowing that he would have to do something, anything, to rid himself of this turmoil of mind and body. He would go down to the kitchen and make himself a cup of tea.

  Mirabelle had been a great believer in tea as a remedy for a great many maladies. ‘It’s good for sleeplessness as well.’ He could hear her voice now. ‘Just get up and make yourself a good hot cuppy, it’s the finest night nurse of all and afterwards you’ll sleep like a babe in arms.’

  Soundlessly he went downstairs to throw open the kitchen door. It was warm and drowsing; the clock on the mantelpiece ticked, the cats lazed and stretched and purred on top of the oven, the lamb was in its basket. Heinz was in his usual place on the hearthrug, his muzzle resting on his paws, one eye opening under the wrinkled canopy of his brow, his tail beginning to flick lazily as he prepared to welcome his master into the domain that normally belonged to himself and the cats at this hour of the night.

  But tonight wasn’t normal; human beings had infiltrated the sanctuary, seriously disrupting the well-deserved slumbers of a good honest dog who was tired out after his labours of the day. But these were people that he loved to have in his world, no matter the hour, and he was puzzled that neither of them was paying much heed to him, particularly his adored master who seemed suddenly to have turned to stone as he stood framed in the doorway, not saying a word.

  As for Fergus, he could hardly believe the sight that met his eyes as he was about to enter the room, and for one stunned moment he wondered wildly if he was witnessing a re-enactment of that other memorable night when he had come home from Lachlan’s to find Fern emerging from the bathtub.

  For here she was again, newly bathed, towelling herself briskly in front of the fire, her hair a mass of damp black ringlets that fell about her face and shoulders to almost touch her slender waist. She was leaning forward. Her breasts, her buttocks, those lovely long legs of hers, all were silhouetted against the soft, enchanting glow of firelight. She was like a golden statuette in all her perfection for she too had frozen into immobility soon after the opening of the door.

  All she could do was stare at him, he at her. Time hung suspended, and everything in the room seemed to fade into another sphere. It was as if they were the only two people on earth, gazing transfixed at one another.

  She was the first to break the spell. ‘Fergus.’ His name came out, husky and low. ‘I was just coming up . . .’

  He didn’t let her finish. Unable to contain his feelings a moment longer, he covered the distance that separated them, in a few quick strides. And then she was in his embrace, he was smothering her in kisses, her mouth, her neck, his breath rapid and harsh in his throat.

  Her own breath caught. Tearing open his shirt she moulded herself into him so that the perfect young breasts he had dreamed of were pressed excitingly against the hardness of his chest. She moved even closer; those supple, shapely legs of hers were wrapping themselves around him, holding him captive, forcing him ever closer to those warm, damp, secret parts of her body, driving him crazy as she allowed him to do as he would with her . . .

  Now there was no turning back, not till he had found his release with her, not till he had assuaged this aching, burning heat that surged through every fibre of his being. Heart pounding in his breast he gasped and moaned and whispered her name – and then he turned his head and caught sight of a picture of himself and Kirsteen on the mantelpiece, heads close together, laughing out at the world, safe and happy in their love for one another.

  Something snapped in his mind. Sanity returned. It was as if he had been doused with ice cold water. Dazedly he struggled to regain control of his emotions, feeling as he did so that he was spinning back from some alien place, travelling towards a light shining at the end of a tunnel.

  Kirsteen! His Kirsteen! The light of his world. The love of his life. With her he had shared every meaningful moment of his existence, to her he owed his allegiance and everything else that was precious and good between them.

  The enormity of what he had been about to do was like a physical blow to his brain. He had very nearly betrayed his darling wife’s trust in him. All for a few moments of pleasure with this young woman, whose tempting beauty had mesmerised him as easily as if he was a simpleton with no mind of his own.

  With a snarl of shame and rage he hurled Fern away from him to say in a tightly controlled voice, ‘Enough! I want no more of you! It’s finished! Tomorrow you’ll get out o’ my house. And by God! I mean every word I say! Get out and never come back again! Ever!’

  She was staring at him, her huge, dark eyes filled with disbelief, her breasts rising and falling in rhythmic time to her breathing. ‘But, Fergus,’ she faltered, ‘I thought . . .’

  ‘I know what you thought, but it’s over. I was a fool to let you bide here in the first place. You’re a dangerous young woman, Fern Lee. I have a feeling that you’ve cheated and lied to me ever since you got here but I tried to be fair to you because, fool that I am, I was drawn to you against my better judgement. All that is over with, tomorrow you go. You’ll find somebody else to take you on, all you have to do is bat your eyes and wiggle your hips, you’re an expert at both.’

  Throwing her clothes at her he ordered her harshly to get dressed and then he blundered away, a man torn apart by guilt, regret and self-loathing. He had said some terrible things to Fern, had more or
less accused her of being a hussy, but he was only too well aware of the darkness lurking within his own soul and he didn’t like the feeling one bit.

  ‘Fergus,’ Her voice followed him from the room. ‘Surely you must know I can’t leave here, I – I won’t leave. I have nowhere else to go, nobody else to turn to. Will you not take pity on me and let me be staying till all my bothers are sorted out?’

  At the foot of the stairs he paused. There was pleading in her words, pathos in her voice – all mixed up with another factor. He recognised it for what it was. She was afraid – of something – or somebody. The man she had escaped? Or some other matter entirely? Something so terrible she would do anything, anything at all to avoid facing the reality of it, even if it meant ruining the lives of other people in the process . . .

  Fergus hesitated; he shivered slightly. Where would it all lead? How would it end? Because he knew for certain that tonight was somehow only the beginning of his troubles where Fern Lee was concerned. He was caught up in a situation that wasn’t of his making, yet like it or no he was one of the main players in the drama.

  Somehow, sometime, somewhere, everything would come to a head and God alone knew what would happen then. People were bound to be hurt and it was up to him to try and protect his own family as much as he could. He had made a start by ordering the girl out of his home and his life. It was final; there was no turning back now. Having made that decision, he went on up to bed, feeling weary and oppressed, a chill in his marrow that did not owe itself to the cold.

  The next morning events took an unexpected turn when Kirsteen arrived home, bubbly and excited, calling, ‘Surprise, surprise!’ as she rushed into the kitchen to throw herself at Fergus, who was sitting at the table finishing his breakfast.

  At sight of her he experienced an overwhelming sense of relief. ‘Mo cridhe,’ he whispered, staring at her as if she wasn’t quite real. ‘You look wonderful, but I don’t understand, you never said . . .’

  ‘I know, I know,’ she laughed, ‘I thought it would be fun to just sneak home and catch you getting up to mischief!’

  He looked at her quickly, wondering if she had already been exposed to gossip concerning himself and Fern. There was plenty of that going around, some of it was bound to reach Kirsteen’s ears . . . He didn’t allow his thoughts to wander further, he would deal with such eventualities if and when they arose, Right now, all he wanted was to enjoy these precious moments of just savouring her presence, taking his fill of her nearness, seeing the joy on her face as she gazed into his. Her arrival couldn’t have happened at a better moment and he felt as if a weight had been lifted from his heart; the whole world seemed lighter and brighter.

  ‘Mo cridhe,’ he said again, pulling her towards him to kiss her tenderly, ‘it’s grand to have you back, it’s been – so strange here without you.’

  She snuggled against him, her blue eyes shining. ‘Perhaps I should go away more often, it would be worth it to get a welcome home like this every time. As a matter o’ fact, Aunt Minnie’s decided to release the moths from her purse and wants to take me and Phebie on a cruise this autumn. Phebie, the besom, did hint at something o’ the sort while we were there and out o’ the blue the old lady announced that she needed a holiday and thought a cruise to sunny climes would be just the thing. She enjoyed our stay with her and put up quite a tearful scene when we announced to her that we were leaving.’

  ‘A cruise?’ he frowned. ‘Away from your own country? Away from the island? To strange places you know nothing about?’

  She giggled. ‘Fergie, Fergie, home-loving man that you are! You just can’t understand anyone wanting to leave Rhanna to visit foreign lands, can you? I myself felt a bit like that when I left to go to Aunt Minnie’s and that was only to Glasgow! I see it now from a different angle, it was good to get a change of scene and it’s made me appreciate my home all the more.’ She kissed him on the tip of his nose. ‘Stop fretting, it’s months away yet. Right now . . .’ she gazed around the familiar room, ‘. . . it’s wonderful to be back, I’ve missed it all so much.’

  Fern chose to enter the kitchen just then. At sight of Kirsteen she paused for a few seconds, then she came forward, hand outstretched, a smile lighting her face. ‘Sure now, and you must be Mrs McKenzie, I couldn’t be mistaking you for anyone else for I’ve heard that much about you and of course seen pictures of you in the house.’

  For a few moments Kirsteen could only gaze wordlessly at the vision of youth and beauty that Fern presented, before hugging the girl to her and saying warmly, ‘And you must be Fern Lee, I’ve been hearing about you too, though I must say,’ here she glanced at her husband, ‘no one told me you would be quite so young and bonny.’

  Fern’s dimples showed, ‘Ah, men, they’re a strange breed of folk to be sure. They’re always so busy with their own concerns it’s a wonder they notice anything that goes on outside their own wee worlds. Would you be agreeing with me about that, Mrs McKenzie?’

  ‘Mrs McKenzie!’ Kirsteen laughed. ‘I’d almost forgotten I had such a title. Everyone calls me Kirsteen and I hope you will too, or I’ll feel a stranger in my own house.’

  Fergus watched the two women. Their faces were animated as they chatted; they might have known one another for years instead of just the few minutes that had passed since Fern’s appearance. The girl was being at her most charming and it soon became apparent that Kirsteen had rapidly fallen under her spell.

  To swell the ranks even further Tina popped in on one of her goodwill missions, bearing a freshly baked currant loaf and an apple tart, knowing how much Fergus liked them. She was thrilled to see Kirsteen again and greeted her affectionately before plunking herself down at the table, declaring that she was ‘fair wabbit after the walk and gey thirsty into the bargain’.

  Fern, knowing the routine by this time, fetched the kettle to make another pot of tea. All three women settled themselves around the table to laugh and blether, to drink tea, and devour a greater portion of the apple tart and half the currant loaf.

  Fergus’s brows knitted darkly. No one was paying much attention to him, not even Kirsteen, and feeling unwanted he went off without a word, uneasy in his mind, unsure of how to handle matters as they stood.

  His authority was slipping further and further away from him. He was no longer his own or anyone else’s master. Fern had no intention of obeying his wishes of the previous night. That much was obvious from the way she had immediately taken advantage of Kirsteen’s timely return, using it to strengthen her position in the Laigmhor household.

  Fergus gave himself a little shake. It was a beautiful day, the sights and sounds of early summer were everywhere; a Hebridean song thrush was singing its heart out in a wooded glade; furry golden bumble bees were prodding busily into the spring flowers growing along the wayside; a lizard darted under a stone; a tiny frog blinked sleepily amongst the uncurling ferns; in the sky above, a skylark was trilling out a song of pure ecstasy while near at hand a little stream-let burbled musically over the stones, much appreciated by a blackbird who was making a great fuss with his morning bath, splish-splashing water everywhere, shaking the sparkling droplets from his wings and digging his bright orange beak in and around his feathers to make sure every part of him received attention. Somehow the beauty of the morning brought everything into a clearer perspective for Fergus. He told himself that time would resolve everything, that nothing was as bad as it seemed; and Kirsteen was home – that alone was enough reason for rejoicing. He hoped and prayed that she would never discover the guilty secrets that hung so heavily on his conscience. The knowledge that Kirsteen herself had indirectly saved him from that final act of betrayal made him feel weak with relief.

  Calling on Heinz, who was sniffing curiously at the frog, he went to join Bob and Donald who were driving the cows onto the pastures on the lower slopes of Ben Machrie. Newly released from their winter byres, the animals were in a frisky mood, kicking up their hooves as they ran, jostling and butting one anothe
r, releasing torrents of dung and steaming rivers of urine in their excitement at being free. Gaffer, taking advantage of the situation, nipped at a few passing heels, Bob swore and wielded his crook at his dog, Donald grinned, so too did Heinz, and Fergus laughed because suddenly he felt good and right with a world that was as familiar to him as the very air he breathed.

  When the children came home from school they screamed with delight at sight of their gramma and hurled themselves into her arms.

  ‘I’ve been looking after Grampa,’ Lorna announced proudly.

  ‘Me too!’ Ellie Dawn piped up.

  ‘You’ve both done a great job,’ Kirsteen told them as she cuddled them. ‘In fact, I think you’ve been overfeeding him, he looks so well and happy.’

  ‘I can’t tell you how pleased I am to see you, Kirsteen.’ Shona, who had collected the girls from school, spoke with feeling and took her step-mother’s hands in both of hers. ‘The place has been going to the dogs without you.’

  ‘Eh?’ Kirsteen glanced around her in surprise, ‘It all looks fine to me.’

  ‘Och, no, I don’t mean that . . .’ Shona glanced first at her father then at Fern, who was standing watching her with a strange expression on her face. ‘It’s just that – well – it will be lovely to have everything back to normal again, just you and Father here at Laigmhor, the way it always was before.’

  It was Kirsteen’s turn to look quizzically at her step-daughter but she didn’t pursue the subject and said with a laugh, ‘I can’t promise it will always be like that. You shouldn’t have chased me away to Glasgow like you did because now that I’ve had a taste o’ the big bad world I’m going to be spreading my little wings even further afield.’

  She went on to explain about the proposed cruise, the news of which brought an unexpected reaction from Shona who commented, ‘Ach well, it won’t matter so much if it’s later on in the year, as long as you bide where you are till things have sorted themselves out at Laigmhor.’