I felt encouraged by the factor’s words and believe I took an involuntary step towards his desk. I then related, at some length, how Lachlan Broad had at the first opportunity reduced the extent of our land, had later denied us sea-ware to fertilise our crops which were now failing, and had then fined us for the poor upkeep of our croft.
The factor listened intently, his eyes all the time upon me. ‘Is there anything else?’ he said.
I wished to tell him also of the general atmosphere of oppression under which we lived, but I could think of no means of expressing this. Nor did I think it prudent to describe the incident I had witnessed with my sister, if for no other reason than it remained a secret from my father.
The factor looked disappointed when I had nothing more to add.
‘And this you describe as a “campaign of harassment”?’ he said.
‘Yes, sir,’ I replied.
‘So your true objective in coming here is to slander, for whatever private motives, an official who, from what you describe, is doing nothing more than performing his duties conscientiously. I shall indeed make note of what you have said and when I next meet with Mr Mackenzie, I shall offer him my congratulations on the manner in which he has conducted himself.’
I felt a dreadful sinking in my stomach, but I saw nothing to gain by protesting.
The factor then addressed my father. ‘I hope you will not see fit to call on me in this manner again. I remind you that your tenancy continues at Lord Middleton’s discretion. And at the discretion of his deputies.’
He then shook his head and waved us out of the study.
My father did not speak on the way home, nor did his expression betray his thoughts. The rain had ceased. That evening I stayed about the house, awaiting the arrival of Lachlan Broad, but he did not appear. Nor did he come on any of the subsequent evenings and I concluded that he was leaving us to stew on whatever retribution was to be loosed upon us. A few days later, I was working in the ditches beside the road to Aird-Dubh when Lachlan Broad passed by. He stopped and watched me work for some minutes, but said nothing before going on his way. Following our interview, I had imagined the factor taking the first opportunity to report what had occurred to his constable, but when it appeared he had not done so, I realised that to these important men our actions were of simply no consequence.
* * *
Some days later, after supper, I stepped out of the house for no other reason than to escape the black atmosphere. My father’s mood at that particular time was so dark that it cast a pall over the entire household. I had not seen Jetta smile for days or weeks and she seemed to daily shrink further within herself, so that she carried herself with the bearing of an old crone. If the infants played at all, they did so silently and in ways mysterious to all but themselves. When Jetta addressed them, it was in a whisper, calculated not to remind my father of their existence. I myself, due to my longing to see Flora Broad, had been labouring under a cloak of despondency, which only augmented the general gloom.
On stepping out of the house, however, my mood immediately brightened. Flora was sitting on the dyke at the junction of the Toscaig road. I was tempted to break into a run, but a moment of circumspection led me to forsake the track through the village and instead make my way down through the rig, before climbing the dyke and joining the road some two or three hundred yards from where Flora sat. I affected a manner intended to suggest to anyone who might be observing that I was merely wandering neither here nor there with no particular destination in mind. In this way I imagined that when I encountered Flora our meeting would appear to be a matter of chance. Flora never once looked up as I approached and seemed to be occupied with something on her lap. As I drew nearer, I was struck by the delicacy of her features. Coils of hair blew unnoticed around her face in the breeze. I stopped a few paces away, but Flora was quite absorbed, or pretending to be so, in the methodical destruction of a dandelion, the yellow petals of which littered her skirts.
I greeted her and she looked up from her activity.
‘Hello, Roddy,’ she said.
I was to unable to engage in any prevarication. ‘I have been looking out for you these last days,’ I said. ‘And was sorry not to have seen you.’
‘Is that so?’ she said.
A faint smile played on her lips and she cast her eyes down towards the petals on her skirt as if my statement had pleased her.
‘I have been working at the Big House,’ she said.
I was pleased that Flora saw fit to furnish me with this explanation for her absence.
I nodded and stepped a little closer to her.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked.
‘I am not going anywhere,’ I said.
‘Then it is a fortunate thing that you happened to be passing on your way to nowhere when I was sitting here.’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘A very fortunate thing.’
‘Perhaps I could walk to nowhere with you,’ she said.
She pushed herself off the dyke, brushing the petals from her clothing. We walked a little way in silence and, without discussion, took the turning to Aird-Dubh. It pleased me that this custom seemed to have been established between us, as if we were a long-married couple. The breeze dropped and the water of the Sound was entirely still. We walked in such close proximity that it was not necessary to raise our voices above a whisper, and I had the feeling that we were proceeding through a world which had for the moment set down its tools to take pause. If I could by some magical means suddenly transport myself to the house, Jetta and my father would be quite frozen in their activity and the infants’ play would be all suspended.
After some time, I asked Flora what she had been doing at the Big House. She described how, on account of a large shooting party, extra hands had been needed in the kitchen and to serve at the banquets. She described the dishes of meats, vegetables and sweets which were brought to the guests, and the great quantities of wine that were imbibed at the table. It was, she said, a most wondrous sight. She then described the fine dresses of the ladies, who were one more beautiful than the next. There was a most handsome gentleman with flowing dark hair to whom all the ladies cast their eyes and who seemed the leader in toasting the hospitality of Lord Middleton. It had been a splendid week, said Flora, and she had earned two shillings for her labour. Then, feeling that there should be no secrets between us, I told Flora of my short-lived employment in the service of Lord Middleton. She did not laugh, but looked at me quite gravely and said, ‘That was not a very clever thing to do, Roddy.’
‘It was not,’ I replied, ‘for my father gave me the soundest thrashing I have ever had.’
Again Flora did not seem to find this amusing and I was dismayed that she seemed to frown on my behaviour. I told her that I only acted as I had because I did not wish to see a fine stag destroyed for the amusement of the gentry. Flora then said that the deer were on the mountain for the sport of the gentlemen and that Lord Middleton’s livelihood depended on such pursuits. I replied that Lord Middleton’s livelihood was no concern of mine. Flora retorted that it should be my concern as it was the estate that provided the people with employment.
‘Without the beneficence of Lord Middleton,’ she said, ‘we would all be scratching a living from the land.’
Her reply made me feel quite foolish and, not wishing to sour the atmosphere between us, I said no more on the subject. We continued in silence to Aird-Dubh and I felt that the closeness between us had dissipated a little. We strolled through the scruffy jumble of houses and outbuildings of the village. The Onion was seated on a bench outside her house, sucking noisily on a small pipe. Flora paused and bid her good evening.
‘Have you no eggs for me?’ said the old woman.
Flora shook her head and said she was sorry but she did not. She then enquired about the state of the old woman’s health. Mrs MacLeod ignored her question, instead,
taking her pipe from her mouth turned her gaze upon me, her flabby lips all the while making a sound like the slapping of the sea against a rock.
‘And this is the Black Macrae’s boy?’ she asked.
‘Yes,’ said Flora.
The crone continued to eye me disapprovingly.
‘Has the Devil got your tongue, Roddy Black?’ she asked eventually.
I could think of no sensible answer to this question, so I merely stared back at her. She stuck her pipe back in her mouth and sucked noisily on it. It was not lit.
‘I have lately seen your sister,’ she said.
I could think of no reason for my sister to have been to Aird-Dubh and said as much.
‘Well, she has been here. Or her fetch has. A pretty girl, very much like her mother.’ These last words were spoken in a sly tone, and if her intention was to rile me, I confess she succeeded. Had Flora not been by my side, I would have told her that she was a wicked old hag, but I held my tongue.
‘And you are very much like your father,’ she said.
‘You do not know my father,’ I replied.
‘I know him well enough,’ she said. ‘Tight as a knot of wood.’ Then she started cackling to herself. Not wishing to hear any more I moved away and Flora followed me, having first bid the crone good evening.
‘Tell your sister, I hope she finds her condition improved,’ she called after us.
I pretended I had not heard, but when we were some distance away, Flora asked what she had meant. I replied that she was nothing but a mad old woman and she should pay no heed to her.
We passed Murdo Cock’s hut and the sound of our footsteps brought him to his door. He stared at us as we passed, his mouth twitching so that the single tooth in his head was prominently displayed. Then he made a sound like a gull and disappeared back inside, like an animal down its burrow. Flora gave a little shiver. I drew closer to her and allowed the back of my hand to graze against her sleeve, hoping that she would hold it, but she did not do so and I withdrew to my former distance. We found ourselves at the point and sat down on the rocks there. A number of boats pitched gently on the swell. I told Flora the story of my father’s fishing vessel and about the incident in which the two Iains were drowned. I described how my mother would go to the pier in Toscaig to watch my father bring in the boat. I cannot say why I related this, except perhaps that I thought to rouse her pity, so that she might like me better. When I had finished, she said that it was a very sad story, and I regretted telling it.
In order to break the silence which grew between us, I asked if she soon would be working again at the Big House.
‘If I am required and if I acquitted myself well,’ she replied. I then remembered the girl I had observed at school, forever anxious to please Mr Gillies, and I felt that she had perhaps not changed so much after all. She then told me that the following year, when she was sixteen, she was to be sent into service at a merchant’s in Glasgow. Her mother had secured a position through the housekeeper at the Big House. Flora asked me if I had ever been to Glasgow and I said that, on account of my father’s fear of water, I had never been so far as Kyle of Lochalsh. She told me a great many tales of the grand streets, emporiums and townhouses in the city. She asked whether I did not plan to leave Culduie, and I told her that my father needed me for the croft and, in any case, I did not wish to go anywhere, for Culduie was where I was from and where I wished to spend my days. Flora expressed the opinion that there was a great deal more to the world than Culduie and that I must surely want to see a little of it. I did not reply, for since I had made her acquaintance I had wanted nothing more than what was on my doorstep. Flora told me how she hoped that when she was in Glasgow she would catch the eye of a fine young man who might make her his wife. I replied that I was sure that there were plenty of young men in Culduie who would wish to do the same.
Flora looked at me with an earnest, puzzled expression. ‘You do not mean yourself, do you?’ she said.
I looked away from her, out towards the sea.
‘If you did not mean yourself, who did you mean?’ she persisted in a playful tone.
I turned to face her. Then without thinking I thrust my face towards hers and for a moment my lips brushed her cheek. Flora drew away and got to her feet.
‘Roddy Black!’ she said. Then she giggled stupidly and I laughed as well, to show that I had only acted in jest.
After a few moments, she sat down beside me. We neither of us said anything. I wanted nothing more than to run off and burst into tears.
Flora pushed me playfully on the arm and said that I was just a silly boy who knew nothing of the world. There were in any case, even in Culduie, Kenny Smoke’s six daughters who I might run after. I did not say what was on my mind, as I had no wish to expose myself to further ridicule.
As we walked back to Culduie, the knowledge that Flora meant to leave Culduie weighed heavily upon me. I realised that, quite unbidden, I had conceived of a future in which she and I would be together. I cannot say when these thoughts came first to my mind, but certainly before our meeting in the barn I had never once entertained the notion of taking a wife. My life up to that point had been with father and Jetta, and until I met Flora I had never wanted for any other company. I cursed myself for having harboured such thoughts. I saw that to Flora I was nothing more than an amusing distraction who she would forget the moment she set foot in the city.
Flora must have seen that I was downcast, for she attempted to make conversation about trivial matters and nudged me playfully with her shoulder, but I pushed my hands deeper into the pockets of my breeches and made no response.
* * *
None of us were in the proper humour for the summer Gathering when it arrived, but Jetta had knitted a great number of shawls to sell at market, so there was no question of not attending. Father declined to accompany us, satisfying himself with a muttered warning that I should keep myself out of trouble. I assured him I had no intention of getting into any trouble, and his absence did something to lighten our mood as we set off.
Jetta’s goods were piled into a hurlie and the twins, to their delight, were set on top of these. The road was thronging with similar parties and there was singing and a general air of festivity. Jetta joined in the singing for the sake of the infants, and, to an onlooker, we must have loosely resembled a happy family. For my part, I remained burdened by melancholy feelings about Flora Broad, but I resolved for the sake of my siblings to put these to one side. As we approached Camusterrach we passed the Onion, moving at such a slow pace that I remarked she must have left home two days before. Jetta quickened her pace as we passed her, then pinched her nose and pulled a face. The twins laughed and mimicked her gesture. Further on, we fell in with the Smokes. Jetta conversed in hushed tones with their eldest daughter. Carmina Smoke enquired after my father and I told her that he had stayed behind to tend the croft. She looked at me in a sceptical manner, but did not say anything more. For the remainder of the journey I dawdled at the back of the party, not speaking to anyone.
The road between the shore and the row of cottages which constituted the village of Applecross was crammed with trestle tables displaying cheeses, wood carvings, pipes, gimcracks and items of clothing. Jetta found a place towards the end of the village and arranged her wares on the cart, before taking a seat on the low shore wall. The twins played at her feet. I loitered awhile before wandering back along the village. The entire parish seemed to have packed into the narrow road. The womenfolk were dressed in their finest clothes. The girls’ hair was arranged prettily and adorned with flowers. I wondered if I might see Flora Broad, but was sure she would take no interest in me. Crofting folk mingled with guests from the Big House, who conversed in loud voices and pointed rudely at the goods on display.
I fell in behind two well-dressed gentlemen and eavesdropped on their conversation. The first declared in a loud voice, ‘It is easy
to forget that such primitives still exist in our country.’ His companion nodded solemnly and wondered aloud whether more might be done for us. The first gentleman then expressed the view that it was difficult to assist people who were so incapable of doing anything for themselves. They then paused to drink from a flask and watch a knot of girls pass by. I did not wait to hear what remarks they passed and continued along the street.
I spotted Archibald Ross leaning at the threshold of the inn. He was dressed in a fine tweed outfit with brown brogues and breeches tucked into his stockings. I stood and stared at him for a few moments. He looked every inch the young gentlemen from a shooting party. Although I was standing only a few yards from him, he did not appear to recognise me. I recalled that almost a year had passed since we had met and took a step or two closer to him. He had a pipe in his right hand, which I saw was now filled and alight. I thought perhaps that following my exploit on the hillside he would not wish to associate with me, but a look of recognition crossed his face and he thrust out his hand and exclaimed, ‘Roddy, old chap!’ We shook hands warmly. I was gratified that he seemed to bear no ill feelings towards me.
‘I thought you might be in Canada by now,’ I said.
‘Canada?’ he said.
‘With your cousin.’
He made a flamboyant gesture with his pipe. ‘There’s nothing for us in Canada these days. Things are worse there than they are here. Besides, I’m now with the ghillie.’
I nodded and told him that he looked very well in his outfit. He waved his pipe ostentatiously to dismiss my comment, before returning it to his mouth and puffing heartily on it. I dearly wished at that moment to have a pipe of my own. Then he took me by the arm and steered me inside the inn. I glanced over my shoulder, fearful that one of our neighbours might see me. I had never before set foot in the inn. My father considered it a den of iniquity and regularly declared that those who frequented it were on the path to the eternal bonfire. Inside a great deal of men in their shirtsleeves were crammed together, bellowing cheerfully in one another’s faces. Archibald manoeuvred us through the throng to a tiny table in the corner, upon which two stone tankards of ale were presently set by a sturdy woman in a checked dress. Archibald grabbed one of the vessels and, clanking it noisily against the second, declared, ‘Here’s to the health of them that like us.’
His Bloody Project Page 12
