Graeme Burnet - His Bloody Project

‘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.