Rhanna at War

by Christine Marion Fraser

  Niall looked up suddenly, saw her standing there, and pushed Babbie, who hadn’t seen Shona, gently into the house. Then he came dashing back to grab Shona’s arm. ‘Listen, something’s happened. I can’t tell you now because I want this morning to be special for everyone.’

  Shona looked into his honest brown eyes and wanted to tell him that she knew, that he didn’t have to pretend, but instead she said, ‘All right, Niall, let’s make it special. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Just behave normally, that’s all . . . No, listen, Shona, we’re all going away for the day . . . you, me, Babbie and Anton. We’re all going over to Portvoynachan in Father’s car. Babbie wants to go to Aosdana Bay.’

  ‘The Bay of the Poet again. Yes, Niall, I understand, but who will drive the car? Anton isn’t quite up to it with half his fingers gone.’

  ‘I will – I learned in the army.’

  ‘But – your arm . . .’

  ‘Never mind my arm, I’ll manage.’ He looked at her pleadingly. ‘You saw me with Babbie just now but I want you to trust me, darling – and – and no matter how you feel right now act as if you’re having the time of your life! Laugh, sing – anything. I’ll tell you why later!’

  They collected the bulging picnic hamper Phebie had left on the kitchen table and then went to the shed where Lachlan kept the car.

  ‘Does your father know you’re taking it?’ Shona asked quietly while a strange feeling of dread squeezed icy fingers round her heart.

  ‘No, it only really occurred to me after he left and Babbie mentioned Aosdana Bay. I had intended getting one of Ranald’s boats out for the day, but don’t worry about Father, he’ll understand – he always does.’

  Babbie came out of the house with Anton leaning on her arm and she remembered suddenly the first day she had got him out of bed, surprised at how tall he was, how the trusting feel of his thin arm round her shoulder had made her quite suddenly want to cry. He had laughed a little and been embarrassed at having to rely so much on her help. His smile had reminded her of another young man, the fleeting, anxious smile of a very new and youthful husband leaving her behind at the station, the sight of his beloved face at a window, a million years of love in his eyes . . . mixed with fear and doubt as they both wondered if that farewell kiss might be their last . . . then the whistle blowing, his eyes gazing into hers wordlessly as the train pulled away . . . his hand raised – and soon the face that she loved just a dim little white blur framed in the carriage window of the train taking him out of her life. His body had been hard and strong – as Anton’s was now, now that he was recovering his strength a little bit more every day . . .

  ‘I will give you money for your thoughts.’

  His voice brought her out of her reverie and she forced a laugh. ‘Only a penny. They might be worth more, but only to me.’

  They all piled into the car, Babbie and Anton in the back, Shona beside Niall at the front.

  ‘I’ll steer with my left hand,’ Niall told Shona laughingly. ‘And you can work the gears . . . Don’t worry,’ he stemmed her protests. ‘Fiona could do it, it’s so easy. I’ll be working the clutch with my foot. It’s a simple matter of coordination, mo ghaoil.’

  She forced the laughter he had requested, but as they got going on the journey she found herself responding to him with a spontaneity that was entirely natural. Niall was in a wild, abandoned mood. His head was thrown back, his brown eyes sparkling as the car hurtled over the rough moor road. Just outside Portcull, the road was no more than a horse track over high cliffs whose basalt columns dipped into the swirling sea far below. At times the way was so narrow it seemed a certainty that the offside wheels would career into thin air. Natural corrosion had eaten away the soft crumbling earth on the clifftops, which were now held together by only a tangle of roots. To the nearside was a deep soggy ditch flanked by stony turf, and on the narrow grass verges groups of cud-chewing sheep stared unblinkingly into the distance. Rhanna sheep gave no precedence to anything on wheels. The island was theirs to roam as they liked and the noisy motor car was just another intrusive object to bleat at with disdain.

  Niall weaved the car around potholes and seemed not to notice the horrific drop to the sea. For a time everyone was silent but soon the road began to wind over the moors and they all began to sing, the jolting of the car distorting their voices and choking the merriment in their throats. Anton and Babbie clutched each other, the former lapsing into German in his excitement. His pale, handsome face sparkled, and he chuckled as Babbie, thrown against him time after time, finally gave up the effort of trying to stay upright. She leaned against him and they both jolted in unison.

  Niall began to sing a Gaelic song and immediately everyone else took up the tune despite the fact that they didn’t know the words. It was a discordant mêlée but no one cared. They were all mad and young together, their voices careering out over the moors, tossed by the fresh spring breezes into a wild concoction of sound. Crofters stopped work to watch the passing ‘contraption’, and rosy-cheeked children stood by the wayside to wave at it solemnly.

  ‘This day will last forever!’ Anton cried, his arms embracing the world.

  ‘Forever and ever!’ Babbie echoed, while tears of sadness and joy clouded her mysterious green eyes.

  Soon they reached Aosdana Bay, which was drowsing in the quiet of morning, its silver-white beaches inviting them towards the effervescent blue sea.

  ‘C’mon, I dare you all to have a paddle!’ Niall said sitting down on a rock to pull off his boots and stockings, and in minutes a variety of footwear dotted the sands and everyone was dancing to meet the foaming surf, shrieking in agonised ecstasy as the freezing water splashed their naked skin. They joined hands and ran to meet each wave, and though skirts were tucked into knickers and trousers rolled to knees, the hems were soon soaked.

  For a time the world was theirs to command. Blue sky and sea reeled round as they danced. Aosdana Bay belonged to them. The beauty of youth reflected gloriously in each bright face in those carefree moments. Two fiery-haired girls, two fair young men, pranced together like children and though one of them was a German it mattered to none of them.

  ‘Oh, I’ll have to stop,’ Babbie gasped eventually. ‘Remember, you’re just babies compared to me. I can’t keep up.’

  ‘I am twenty-four, Fräulein, older than you,’ Anton pointed out soberly.

  Babbie smiled carelessly. ‘Men are slower to grow up. To me you’re just a boy.’

  ‘The day I joined the Luftwaffe I became a man,’ he said with dignity but she merely smiled because he looked like a small boy in the huff. When Niall went with Anton to retrieve the hamper they had left in one of the cool caves, Shona said quietly to Babbie, ‘You’ll miss Anton when he’s gone, won’t you? You’ve been closer to him than anyone else these past weeks.’

  ‘He has to go sometime,’ Babbie said before turning away to spread a rug over the sand.

  Niall and Anton returned shortly, and then they all feasted on chicken sandwiches and fluffy scones, and afterwards lay down on the warm beach. Shona turned her head to look at Niall and his hand came out to squeeze hers till it hurt, the strength of his love reaching out to her, but a moment later he jumped to his feet and pulled her up with him. ‘C’mon, lazy,’ he said lightly. ‘You know we said we would pay Alasdair Robb a visit.’ Shona began to protest but he led her away, saying casually over his shoulder, ‘We’ll see you two about an hour from now. Don’t be running away, Anton. Remember you’re in my charge.’

  When they reached the top of the cliff Shona turned on him. ‘Niall, if I didn’t know you better I’d say you were going a bit daft! I thought we were out for a picnic.’

  ‘And it seems I don’t know you at all, Shona McKenzie. I credited you with a pretty keen sense of perception.’

  ‘You mean – it’s true about them then?’

  ‘It’s so obvious I thought the whole of Rhanna knew. Mother and Father saw it long ago. They’re daft on each o
ther though neither has yet admitted it to the other. She’s mad on him – yet her heart is breaking because – of circumstances.’

  ‘Oh God, I love you, Niall!’ she breathed, drawing him into her arms and laying her warm cheek against his.

  ‘We’re lucky, my darling,’ he said softly. ‘We’ve had time to know what love is like. And how much better it will be with the passing of each day . . . They have only a little time left, which is why I wanted them to make the most of it. Can you imagine what it’s like? To be in love and never to be alone together?’

  ‘There is something else, though, isn’t there? That letter in Babbie’s hand earlier? It brought back a memory to me, one I want to forget . . . a letter in a buff envelope telling me you had been reported missing, believed to be killed. I was in Slochmhor alone, it was quiet and deserted, the way it was this morning when Babbie got her news . . . It was about her husband, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Ay, it was to tell her that he had been definitely classified as killed in action. The waiting for her is over but it doesn’t stop her feeling as if she is breaking in two – one part of her crying for the young husband who is dead now – the other loving Anton but everything in her fighting against it because to admit it will make her feel a traitor. She’s got a lot of loyalty in her has Babbie.’

  Shona felt drained with sadness. ‘And we thought we had troubles,’ she whispered.

  He kicked the ground fiercely. ‘Life can be a damned cruel thing sometimes. She comes to a remote Hebridean island to nurse her hurt and anxiety over her husband and ends up falling in love with a German airman. Ironic, isn’t it?’ His brown eyes were dark pools of compassion and she drew him into her arms once again. They clung together in the warm, sweet heather and cried for two young people with so little time left to love.

  Anton watched Shona and Niall disappearing over the line of the cliffs and then twisted round to take Babbie’s cool little hand. ‘You are shivering, Fräulein. Are you cold?’ he asked in his attractive broken English.

  She shook her head, her oddly mysterious eyes clouding with the sting of tears. ‘Not cold – happy in a sad sort of way. It’s been a wonderful day . . . thanks to Shona and Niall.’ She looked down at his hand resting in hers. The three little stumps of his lost fingers had healed beautifully but the sight brought a sob to her throat. ‘What will happen to you, Anton?’

  He shrugged. ‘I do not know. A camp, in Scotland or England. It doesn’t matter. My home was in Germany with my family. I don’t pine for a place where they are no more.’

  ‘Poor Anton,’ she breathed softly.

  Anger flashed out of his blue eyes. ‘I hate pity! Please don’t pity me!’

  ‘I don’t pity you, Anton, I was thinking how strange everything is. In a way we are both orphans. No family for either of us to go home to.’

  ‘Babbie.’ His voice was soft again. Very gently he touched her hair where the sun turned it to fire. ‘Your hair, it is like summer. Whenever I think of you I will think of a summer sun blazing red at the end of the day. These weeks you have nursed me like an angel.’ He smiled. ‘You also make jokes like a little devil. I have laughed – and looked – and – loved . . . Liebling.’ The endearment made her heart beat rapidly and she couldn’t trust herself to look at him. ‘Liebling,’ he said again, his voice barely audible. ‘I love you and you know it. Niall gave us this time alone together – you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘It – it looks that way. He came to Rhanna like a young warrior – now he plays at Cupid,’ she whispered, looking up then at the clear-cut structure of his handsome young face so that she would remember it for the rest of her life.

  Slowly, he leaned towards her and she shut her eyes to feel his lips caressing her eyelids and when his mouth came down on hers she made no resistance. Instead she put up her hands to trace the curve of his ears, tenderly urging him to kiss her harder. They were timeless moments. The gulls mewed softly, the sun beat down warmly, the creamy foam of the incoming tide rattled the tiny shells of the smooth white sands.

  He undid the top of her dress and played absently with the little gold ring attached to a chain round her neck. ‘Did it belong to someone you loved?’ he asked tenderly. ‘My mother had a ring her grandmother gave her and she, too, wore it round her neck on a chain.’

  ‘Yes, someone I loved,’ she said tensely.

  ‘Liebling.’ His voice was taut with passion. He touched the softness of her breasts and she cried out, wanting him to love her but afraid that he would hurt himself. A soft dew of tears shone on his fair lashes. ‘Please, Babbie, let me love you – tomorrow I go away – let today last forever.’

  She was unable to resist his pleas. ‘All right, Anton, but gently – for your sake.’

  With trembling legs they walked to the great columns of rock beside the caves. There, in the shadow of the sentinel pillars, he made love to her with such tender devotion she had to press her knuckles between her teeth to stop from crying out in those exalted moments. When it was over they lay quietly, Anton in Babbie’s arms, his head pillowed on her breasts. The peace of Aosdana Bay, that had, in years gone by, inspired love, hope and finally tragedy in a lovelorn young poet, washed into the souls of the two lovers with so little time left to love. They listened to the timeless wind and tide that had swept the Bay for aeons past and both of them knew these were the memories they would carry into eternity.

  But their time together was coming to an end and Anton finally broke the spell of silence. ‘Babbie, I want to ask you to be truthful to me. Our acquaintance has been very short yet my feelings for you are so deep it seems you have always been in my heart. If I am lucky enough to be sent to a Scottish camp then we wouldn’t be so far apart. Could you – would you – wait for me?’

  The welling of her tears drowned out the world for a moment and it was while she couldn’t see the love shining in his eyes that she managed to say lightly, ‘Och, c’mon, now, Anton, be realistic! You’ll forget all about me in a little while. Young men always fall in love with their nurses. It’s a part of convalescing.’ Still she couldn’t see him but she heard the deep hurt in his reply.

  ‘Forget you, Babbie! How can I forget today – yesterday? You can’t forget love! But perhaps – I just imagined that you loved me too.’

  ‘You will forget, Anton, and some day you’ll meet a really nice girl.’

  ‘I don’t want a nice girl – I want you!’ he cried passionately.

  She smiled through the mist of tears. ‘That’s not very complimentary, Anton.’

  He was angry now, his blue eyes bewildered. ‘You know very well what I mean! Good God, Babbie . . .’ He spread his hands in appeal. ‘Don’t play games with me now. Tomorrow I must leave this island – I want to know what you feel for me!’

  She turned away from him because the pleading in his eyes was taking away all the resolution in her breaking heart. ‘I – my dear Anton – I feel a great affection for you, but . . .’ Her voice broke on a sob. ‘That’s not enough for the thing you ask of me.’

  He slowly got to his feet and stood looking down at her. ‘Thank you, Babbie, at least you are truthful,’ he said huskily. ‘I will always remember today – even though you may forget.’ He lifted his head proudly and she stared up at him outlined against the blue sky, tall, slim, fair threads of hair glinting in the sun, already a million miles away from her.

  Niall and Shona appeared on the skyline then and Anton cried brightly, ‘Hey there, you two, you are just in time! I was beginning to miss my escort. You have grown on me like a bad habit!’

  It seemed that the whole of Portcull was crowded into the parlour at Slochmhor for the ceilidh. Most of the menfolk had donned kilts for the occasion, anxious to show Anton what a real island ceilidh looked like. Todd had recovered sufficiently from his appendix operation to be there complete with bagpipes though Lachlan warned him not to blow on them too hard or he would do himself an injury.

  ‘Ay, and we’re no’ wantin’ any more
of the Ballachulish bagpipes for a whily,’ put in Biddy who had hobbled along on sticks and was back to her usual grumbling good nature.

  Todd looked uncomfortable. The ‘Ballachulish Bagpipes’ was Biddy’s quaint way of referring to an enema, and the memory of Nurse Millar ‘wi the tubes’ was still keen on his mind.

  It was a laughing, carefree gathering and Anton looked round at all the faces that had become so familiar and so dear to him and he felt a lump rising in his throat. This ceilidh tonight was in his honour and he felt like laughing and crying at the same time. The room was cosy with a peat fire leaping in the hearth and lamps burning softly, giving a glow to the colourful array of tartans. The womenfolk had changed out of rough homespuns and were wearing dresses of softest wool in a variety of rainbow hues. Some wore tartan shawls, caught at the neck with Cairngorm stones encased in silver. The skin of these island women was, in almost every case, soft and dewy, flushed into rosiness by generous amounts of good, clean Hebridean air which was about the only ‘cosmetic’ that any of them had ever known. Even the men had this fine complexion, a sparkling look about them that made their faces come alive and their eyes glow with the joy of their living. The freshness was not taken away by advancing years and indeed many of the old ones had only snowy locks and wisdom in their eyes to show for the years they had been on earth. Agility was another thing common to both old and young and it was no surprise to anyone that old men of ninety still worked a croft and old women of the same years ran a home with complete thoroughness and tended their animals into the bargain. If one of their kind was taken from their midst at the comparatively young age of sixty, heads would shake sadly and they would tell one another, ‘And him in his prime, wi’ all his life in front o’ him.’