An Island Apart (18 page)

‘There's talk of asking Padruig to bring some of the folks on an evening cruise,' Mairi Jane told her. ‘You'll not say no to that?'

‘A cruise to Westisle?' Kirsty echoed. ‘I certainly wouldn't say no.' She caught her breath for a moment. ‘I suppose even the two Ruaris would welcome it.'

‘Ach them!' Mairi Jane derided. ‘They'd no doubt be glad of some company to take a look at their beautiful Island. They think there's no place like it.'

‘I'm beginning to feel the same way about it myself,' Kirsty confided. Mairi Jane flashed her an enigmatic smile.

‘When is the cruise likely to be?' Kirsty asked.

‘I would say the first calm evening when Padruig has nothing better to do,' was the reply.

‘I just want to make sure I have plenty of scones baked,' Kirsty said. ‘But tell me, Mairi Jane, is it likely to be a boatload or just a half dozen?'

‘I would say more likely a boatload,' Mairi Jane informed her. ‘But you will have plenty of time to put the girdle on the fire when you see the boat coming, or even when you hear the laughing and singing. There's plenty of that goes on when there‘s one of these evening cruises.'

‘Will you be coming?' Kirsty asked eagerly.

‘I will certainly come and see what you have made of your home,' Mairi Jane promised.

‘I shall be looking forward to it,' Kirsty said warmly.

The two brothers had already heard about the proposed evening cruise and as soon as they got back from fishing the next day they started to hide anything that was likely to be ‘borrowed' by members of the cruise party. Kirsty looked enquiringly at her husband. ‘Ach, they see a thing they'd like to try out and then they ask if they can have a lend of it. When you come to use it yourself it's not there but when you ask them where it is they think they've returned it. It makes Ruari Mhor fairly cross at times so it's best not to leave things where folks can see them. That way they don't ask for a lend of them.'

As Mairi Jane had predicted, they were able to hear the cruise boat approaching before they could see it.

‘They're on their way,' shouted her husband, coming towards the house. ‘And there's a good load of them.' His voice was unusually excited.

The evening was calm and sun-goldened; gulls were winging lazily towards their chosen night haunts; from somewhere on the Island came the sound of snipe drumming and as Kirsty set out to welcome her visitors she could hear a chorus of happy voices mingling with the late calls of the gulls. The boat was well down in the water with its load of bodies. I hope it doesn't blow up before they go home, she thought as she greeted them and helped some of the older ones over the rough shingle. There were loud splashings as several of the younger ones, in a hurry to be first ashore, missed their footing but their plights produced even more shouting and laughter.

Kirsty led the way to the house where there were kettles simmering on the range, teapots warming on the fender and piles of buttered girdle scones, oatcakes, bannock and shortbread covering the table. The women sat on whatever chairs or benches were available, the men on the floor and the younger people either did likewise or brought three or four dry peats from the stack and used them as stools. Inevitably the teasing and chaffing, the gossip and the storytelling prompted the desire to break into song and soon the kitchen was filled with singing, chanting and humming voices; not loud but mellowed as if in deference to the serenity of the evening. And then came a voice she could recognise. She'd been so busy seeing that people were well looked after that she'd not paid much attention to the youngsters in the party, but when the boy she knew as Jamie Eilidh began to sing she was captivated. When he'd sung one song it was she who called for more. She spoke directiy to him. ‘You have a splendid voice, Jamie Eilidh, and I could listen to you for many an hour without getting tired of it.'

He blushed but did not answer.

Her brother-in-law stirred himself from where he had been standing by the open door. ‘The tide is right and the breeze is rising. I'm thinking you'd best be on your way if you're not going to stay here till morning.'

‘My, my,' they chorused and began making their way towards the door. As they departed they were full of praise for Kirsty's baking and when she invited them to fill their pockets they left the table quite bare.

She accompanied them to where the men of the party were gathered around the boat.

‘We'll be back,' they promised as the boat left.

‘Oh, you must do that,' she cried fervently. ‘I've enjoyed myself so much.'

Someone on the boat began to sing ‘Will ye no come back again?' And Kirsty, who had never considered that she had a pleasing voice, joined in, holding out her arms in an ecstatic way in response to their waved farewells. ‘They'd best not do much of that or they'll sink the boat,' said Ruari Beag. ‘You'd best not encourage them by staying here.'

Reluctantly she followed him along the path until they reached the higher ground where she paused to feast her eyes on the breathtaking beauty of the scene. The sea was turquoise; the sunset seemed to be in possession of the whole wide horizon while oven the gaunt dark hills of the mainland a slim crescent of moon peeped like a young breast emerging from a torn gown. Whoever would want to live in a city, she asked herself.

On fine Saturday mornings it was now the custom for the two Ruaris to take their catch early to the mainland, putting Kirsty ashore to dispose of her basket of eggs while they stayed around the fish pier to watch their lobsters being auctioned, to supervise the boat being tanked up with fuel ready for the following week's fishing, and to make a leisurely inspection of other boats and their catches, after which they adjourned with the other fishermen to discuss prices over a dram at the hotel.

Quite often on these Saturday visits Kirsty might meet Mairi Jane, and if there had been no warning to hurry back to the pier they would go for a session to the local tearoom. On the Saturday following the cruise party she was hailed by Mairi Jane and a group of her friends and it was only a minute or two before they were heading for the tea-room. It was then that she heard about Jamie Eilidh's plans for the future.

‘Wasn't he with your brother-in-law outside your house while the ceilidh was taking place, and then only this morning my man was saying the boy was going to learn about fishing from the two Ruaris.'

They could see from her surprised expression that she knew nothing of the proposal. ‘Are you saying that Jamie Eilidh is going to be a fisherman in
The Two Ruaris?
' Kirsty exclaimed. ‘Does he want to be a fisherman?'

‘What else would he be fit for after being taught by nuns?' one of the women asked aggressively.

‘Really,' Kirsty countered, ‘I've heard nuns make very good teachers. I've met lots of scholars who could boast of being taught by nuns.'

‘Not young fellows with stammers,' the woman derided.

‘Oh, be quiet!' Mairi Jane reprehended the woman mildly. ‘No, the trouble is that the boy's stammer is not likely to help him find work in these parts except at the fishing, and it's in these parts he wishes to stay. Folks tell me he has a good brain and is good with his hands. They say he can sort things like broken cameras and broken wireless sets given the chance – but what use are skills like that in this kind of place?'

‘I could do with someone to sort my wireless set,' Kirsty muttered.

‘Likely he'll do that,' Mairi Jane proposed.

‘Has he left school?' Kirsty asked

‘Didn't he leave school last week just, at the beginning of the holidays? That's why he's round about the pier a lot.'

‘Is his home here, then?' Kirsty probed.

‘Not here just,' one of the women replied. ‘He has an uncle at Rubhana that he stays with when he's not at school. But there's talk that the uncle's thinking of marrying again and taking himself off somewhere. His new wife doesn't want to have Jamie with them.'

Mairi Jane permitted herself a short sigh. ‘Though he's been brought up a Papist I can find it in my heart to feel sorry for the boy. Since the day he was created he's never been wanted.'

They finished their tea, collected their various bags and went their separate ways. Kirsty met the two Ruaris on the pier. She was surprised neither of them had mentioned to her that Jamie was to join them on the boat, but since she'd never had anything to do with the boat she assumed they'd taken it for granted she was not interested.

When they were back on Westisle in the late afternoon the boat was moored and since neither of the brothers would set foot on her again until after the Sabbath was safely over, they tackled odd jobs which had accumulated during their time at sea. Ruari Beag was over by the barn mending creels. Ruari Mhor was working on the fence for her vegetable garden. Seeing it was a bright calm day Kirsty began to clean the windows. She called to her brother-in-law, ‘Ruari Mhor, I was shamed just by the state of these windows when the folks were here last night. It was that wind earlier in the week that drove the rain and spray up from the sea and I was too stupid to notice it until the sun had dried it. It is not easy scrubbing it off with cloths and I have not yet found this special kind of moss you yourself use.' When there was no response she ventured to ask, ‘Will you not bring some for me next time you are near it?'

When he turned to look at her she thought his face looked grey and drawn and suspected his back was troubling him.

‘I will not get moss for you,' he said curtly. ‘But you will tell me when you wish the windows to be cleaned and I will do it.'

‘I know I'm not a good hand at cleaning windows but I'm not trying to get out of doing it,' she argued.

‘I have always cleaned the windows,' he snapped.

Kirsty shrugged her shoulders and went inside to start baking for the Sabbath.

She herself was no longer the strict Sabbatarian she had been brought up to be and though she still shunned the idea of sewing or knitting or doing other handicrafts on the Sabbath it was more superstition than religion that disallowed it. But she had, during the years in the city, become used to cooking a good midday meal on Sundays. On Westisle it seemed practical to continue doing so and since there was no hint of a grumble from her husband or her brother-in-law she'd simply carried on. She got the impression they liked the experience of enjoying a long lazy afternoon and using a full stomach as an excuse for their inertia. But for Kirsty, Saturday baking evenings had also become a kind of ritual and this again seemed to fit easily into her weekly timetable. There was no doubt the two Ruaris enjoyed her baking. Her husband sometimes asked her to make ‘another of those sweetie tarts' or ‘some of those jammy rolls' or other delights she had produced from the now well-behaved oven. Both men proved they were incredibly ‘sweet-toothed' and it gave her pleasure to see them reaching for goodie after goodie until the plates and tins were almost empty.

It was not until they were finishing their Sunday dinner next day that she mentioned casually, ‘I heard yesterday that the boy Jamie Eilidh is to come aboard
The Two Ruaris
to learn about fishing.'

The two men locked glances for a second before Ruari Mhor answered, ‘That is so.'

‘Will he be useful to you, or are you just offering him the chance of work?' she asked.

‘He will be useful,' Ruari Beag answered positively.

‘If he is not seasick he will be useful,' confirmed Ruari Mhor. ‘And if he is not clumsy enough to fall overboard.'

‘Can he swim, d'you know?' she queried.

‘He says he's got certificates for swimming.'

‘He might prove to be an asset on the boat,' Kirsty said. ‘Will he be starting tomorrow?'

‘Maybe, maybe,' Ruari Beag allowed.

It was plain they were not intending to discuss the matter further, and though she would have liked to ask if they would be bringing Jamie to the house for his evening meal, she forebode from putting the question. She stood up and started to clear the table. The brothers wandered outside and hearing their fading voices she guessed they had gone to find their favourite sites to lie down and look at the sky while they digested their dinner. Kirsty washed the dishes, changed into her black dress and then taking a book, a rug and a pillow, sought her own favourite spot behind the barn.

The following Saturday morning when she took her basket of eggs down to the boat she found Jamie already aboard. ‘How?' she asked her husband.

‘Jamie sleeps aboard,' he said. ‘There are good bunks that are not used,' he added, ‘and it is handy to know there is somebody on board when she is left, in case of trouble.'

‘What sort of trouble?'

‘Oh, she might drag her anchor or she might …'

‘But what could Jamie by himself do about such things?' she interrupted.

‘Ach, he could throw out another anchor to keep her, while he swims ashore to get us.'

‘He can swim then? You know that for sure?'

‘He's a great one for the swimming,' he assured her. ‘He talks of trying to swim across the Sound before he's much older.'

‘Maybe he's aiming to be a champion swimmer and become famous,' she suggested lightly. She would have liked to talk to Jamie but thought it would perhaps be cruel when he was too confused even to acknowledge her smile.

She said when they had returned to the house, ‘I think it would be a good idea to bring Jamie here for a bite to eat in the evenings. He would not be able to cook aboard the boat, would he?'

‘There is a Primus aboard,' Ruari Beag said. ‘And there is plenty of bread and butter and tea. He does well enough.'

‘Maybe it's fine in the good weather but when the autumn comes it will not be much of a home for him. Can we not turn the small room where the packing cases are stored into a bedroom so he can live with us here? I shan't complain at having a little extra cooking to do.'