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
‘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
Similar Books
