‘That was a near escape.’ said Murdo later on.
Màiri smiled. ‘You all got safely away then? That tall young man, I’ve never seen him before. Is he from round here?’
‘Ah, you mean Anndra’.
‘That’s an unusual name.’
‘Aye. He’s from the south of the island. His family were thrown off their land.’
‘And where does he stay now?’
Murdo grinned, ‘So many questions. Why do all young women want to know about him? He’s in Portree at the moment, living on a poor bit of land and doing some fishing.’
Her thoughts were already flying far off like migrating swallows. It wouldn’t matter if he didn’t have any money or land. He could live here, on their croft. They would manage, even if they had a nest full of children. That would be a small price to pay for having him in her bed, warming her body inside and out.
Murdo laughed, ‘You should see your face’.
‘How do you mean?’ She frowned.
‘Standing there licking your lips and your eyes all dreamy like a dog having its belly rubbed. I’m in your debt, so I’ll see what more I can find out. But I imagine he’s got a sweetheart already.’
She bristled at the edge of pity in his voice, ‘I was just curious.’
A few nights later she heard a thud outside, followed by muttered swearing. She hurried out to find her brother, who had tripped over in the dark. He was swaying on his feet and she hustled him away from the house towards the well.
‘We can’t have Mamma seeing you in that state,’ she hissed. ‘Walk up and down while I get you some water to drink.’ She lowered the bucket.
‘We’ve had a wee dram or two to celebrate. I’m not going back to Glasgow. I’m going to Fort Augustus.’
‘I’m not surprised. It’s what you’ve always wanted. The army’s better than emigrating, but Mamma will take it hard.’
‘Aye. That reminds me…’ He put his hand to his mouth, grimacing.
‘Reminds you of what?’
‘N… nothing.’
She shook his collar, ‘What won’t you tell me?’
He sighed. ‘Anndra’s going too.’
‘As a soldier?’ She could feel her heart sinking, but still he would come back one day.
He wouldn’t meet her gaze. ‘No.’
‘What’s he doing then? Spit it out.’ Her fingers clenched on the handle of the bucket.
‘Australia. He’s emigrating.’
Murdo lurched to one side but he was too slow to avoid the swing of the bucket. He howled as the cold water struck him. She hurled the bucket down, tears glinting in her eyes and overflowing down her cheeks. ‘That’ll sober you up,’ she screamed.
The rainbow had vanished in the instant she had glimpsed it. Everyone’s life seemed to be changing, except hers. Anndra gone for ever. Murdo in the army. All the young women of her age away working in the Lowlands. If not working they were married, with several youngsters around their skirts and another in the belly. As Màiri grew into her twenties Mamma became more tight-lipped about her refusal to consider the few offers of marriage that came her way.
‘You should be more modest, not making up verses. That’s not fitting for a woman wishing to marry. Mind you, I’ve heard that George Beaton is looking for a wife. He’s a godly man and a hard worker. You could do worse.’
Màiri had been horrified. George Beaton indeed! He was at least twice her age and bandy legged. She had caught him gobbling her up with his greedy, parched eyes. She knew well enough that she was no beauty, her features were too strong, her body too broad and tall. Even her feet didn’t fit a ladylike pattern; they were so large that only men’s brogues would fit them.
‘How come that men, no matter how ill-favoured they might be, imagine that they could be a suitable match for a young woman?’
‘A woman needs to marry and she can’t always be too choosy. When God told Noah to build the Ark He commanded him to bring aboard a male and female of every creature. A woman on her own is against nature.’
The anxious creases on her mother’s face made her hold back an angry retort. Instead she paused before laughing and saying, ‘You’d marry me off to that grubby old bachelor, Donald MacKinnon?’
‘No, indeed, there are limits even to my matchmaking.’
At least I made her smile, Màiri thought, and that happens all too rarely these days. But despite her joking she felt uncertain about her future. She was determined to stay a spinster rather than settle for an old man. There were plenty of songs that warned about sad young girls betrothed to greybeards. The thought of a wizened bodach sniffing around her, then thrashing and gasping on top of her in bed, like a fish caught on a hook, it was unbearable. Imagine being expected to kiss a putrid mouth full of blackened stumps of teeth. No, she would rather endure the neighbours’ pity for her unwed state. If only Anndra had not gone away.
What was the answer? Her parents hadn’t pressed her to go down to the Lowlands to work and she was grateful for that. She knew that her help on the croft made life easier for both of them. She knew too that Mamma was terrified of her last child sickening and dying in a damp, grimy tenement.
One summer evening she went outside where her father was watching the sun’s lifeblood staining the sky. Seeing him there, unaware of her presence, made her heart jolt. His back was bowed and he leant heavily on a stick. Was this her Pappa who used to rail against injustice and was so fearless of authority?
‘Mamma thinks I’m not docile enough to find a husband. Do you think I frighten men away with my opinions and my verses?’
He threw his head back and laughed his old confident rumble. He was silent for a time before replying.
‘Do you remember the story about the MacCrimmond piper and the Fairy Bridge?’
She nodded. It was one of her favourites.
‘Well, when the piper found his way to the Fairies’ underground kingdom through the cave at Harlosh he met a beautiful woman there. Some say she was the Queen of the Fairies herself. He was enchanted by her and stayed there for what he thought was a short time. But as you know Fairy time is different from ours and in truth he was away from his people for many days. When he was ready to leave she offered him a present of his own choosing. He wanted a silver chanter. She gave him a magic one that made his fingers move like quicksilver when he played it. He stirred the hearts of everyone who heard the music he made on it. She told him, “When you dance everyone will dance with you and when you play a lament the whole island will lament with you.”
‘But, as always, when we have dealings with the Fairies there’s a reckoning to be made. She told him the day and the time when he would have to return through the cave to her and never leave her again. That time was some years ahead and MacCrimmond, being young, believed that the day would never dawn. So he agreed to her terms, returned home and became the most famous piper of his day. His sons and grandsons followed him as pipers for MacLeod of MacLeod, although it’s said that none of them had fingers as nimble as his own.
‘Eventually the day arrived that had been marked for his return. He bade his wife and children a last farewell and with a few companions walked back to the cave. Then he turned his back on all human kind and, playing his chanter, walked alone into the darkness without a backward glance. His wee dog, though, trotted in to follow his master. Everyone else waited silently at the cave’s mouth and strained their ears to catch his playing. They could hear both the chanter and the dog’s barks rising up from below the earth. At a spot near the Fairy Bridge the chanter fell silent but they could still hear barking. Suddenly the dog shot out from the cave with his hair all black and singed.’
Màiri waited but he said no more. ‘I always enjoy the old tales but why have you told me this one now?’
He smiled, ‘Like me, you’re impatient to change the world. We both protest like the wee dog. As you know barking at the minister got me singed in my youth. I was nearly exiled across the seas and had to pay a penance of living in Glasgow. I lost a good croft and had to settle for poorer land when we came back.’
‘So you’re advising me to do what’s expected and become a dutiful wife, even if it makes my heart shrivel within me?’
‘No. At least, not yet. You’re the Benjamin of my old age. I don’t want to lose you and Heaven forbid I’m no minister to preach to you about your duty. Maybe you’re MacCrimmond in the story, rather than the wee dog.’
‘How so?’
He drew on his clay pipe while he considered his answer, ‘No doubt the minister would disagree but I believe the Fairies are the spirits of the old folk who lived in the hills before our people came here. You can’t refuse a gift from the Fairies or they will turn against you. MacCrimmond had to take the silver chanter, whatever the cost to him. Now you’ve the gift of poetry. You have to use it. You shouldn’t become as pious as those miserable folk who’ve been converted and stop singing. That would be spurning their gift.’
He laughed and tapped her arm. ‘Anyway, we’d better go inside or your mother will believe we are plotting something.’