Heather Song (6 page)

“I don’t know. We were young. All I know is that she could make the rest of us tremble with the kinds of things she said. Alasdair—the duke, I mean, he never took her seriously. It enraged her when he laughed at her pranks and sayings. That’s why through the years I’ve wondered…” Her voice trailed off.

“Wondered what?”

“Nothing, never mind…It’s ridiculous. I’m sorry for bringing it up, Mrs. Reidhaven.”

“Alicia, what?”

“Nothing. I was just going to say that I’ve wondered if his ailment, his condition…I don’t really know anything about it, but if it might have been caused…But,” she added, shaking her head, “it’s something genetic, they say, isn’t it? She couldn’t have had anything to do with it.”

“What did Olivia say about me, then, Alicia?”

“I would rather not go into it, Mrs. Reidhaven, if you don’t mind,” answered Alicia a little timidly. “That’s all over now, with Olivia gone and you and the duke married. What came before doesn’t matter anymore. ‘Look behind, lose your mind.’”

Alicia was talking in such peculiar phrases!

“Then tell me about Adela,” I said, steering the conversation away from this weird turn it had taken. “So she wants to take up the harp again?”

“Yes.”

“Well, tell her I would be delighted,” I said. “You arrange a time when she can come—tomorrow if she would like. Tell her I shall look forward to seeing her.”

A
dela Cruickshank came to the castle the following day to resume her harp lessons. She was reserved, timid, a little awed to be in the castle for something as mundane as a music lesson. More than once as we made our way up to my studio and as she looked about, she made comments like, “’Tis jist as I remember it…Aye, there’s the Drawing Room…Aye, an’ the portrait o’ the auld duke an’ his green lady…Oh, aye—an’ the tapestry o’ the stag.”

She was obviously well familiar with the place.

“You must have spent a great deal of time here in the past,” I said.

“As a girl, my lady,” Adela answered. “I was a frien’ wi’ Olivia, ye see.”

“Oh…so you and Alicia must have been close, too.”

“Aye…middlin’—but no’ for some years noo. Not after she came tae the castle tae work. Olivia didna like her workin’ for her brither the duke, ye ken.”

“Well, maybe that will change with your coming regularly.”

I needed only a small place to teach. The castle had dozens of rooms that would have sufficed perfectly. But Alasdair wanted to show off my harps and wanted them in the Music Room. So we set up the small end of it as my harp studio, where the dividers could be in place if I wanted the feel of a smaller room, or could be folded back to make the whole huge expanse into a magnificent concert hall.

And so began Adela Cruickshank’s lessons. She was thrilled when I offered to let her borrow one of the harps so she could practice at home. I told her that Nicholls and I would be happy to bring either the
Aida
or the
Shamrock
to her house that afternoon, but the idea was too intimidating. However, she would be delighted, she said, to use either of the two lap harps. After an hour I sent her on her way with the
Limerick
, telling her she could come by the castle any time she liked to practice on something larger.

Obviously I didn’t charge her for the lesson or the use of the little harp. In my former life, my teaching had provided a good portion of my income. Now I was married to one of Scotland’s wealthiest men, if the stories were true. Good heavens, what was I going to do…charge twenty pounds (or
quid
) for an hour of my time?! I knew Alasdair’s money wasn’t technically mine. I had made sure of that fact with the prenup I’d insisted on, to prevent any unpleasant stories circulating about either of us. But Alasdair was so unbelievably generous with everything. In the same way I had insisted on a prenup, he now insisted on my having an account in Clydesdale Bank with £100,000 in it. It was twenty times—or more!—what I could possibly need, but he insisted and had followed through over my objections. Therefore, it was clear that henceforth my teaching would be more a hobby than an income, and that was just how I wanted it.

The next Sunday afternoon’s open house on the castle grounds occurred on a lovely warm day, and I decided to take the
Queen
outside to play for a while as people came and went. Alicia was busy acting the part of hostess in my stead, with Alasdair entertaining the men and enjoying Stella with several local farmers. As word got around that Stella was nearly always on hand—chilled and with no limit, the bottles protruding from two great ice-filled half-casks from former distillery use sitting on the lawn beckoning thirsty palates—more and more of the local men turned up to visit with the duke. Alasdair loved it. The discussions were always animated, the topics of discussion ranging from cattle, pigs, and football to the price of barley, the weather, the good old days when fishing was king, the immigration problem, the nanny state, and the loss of jobs in Scotland.

As I played I saw a woman I recognized talking to Alicia, then noticed her staring at me. I didn’t look toward her at first. As she moved imperceptibly closer, I could tell that she was mesmerized by the music and sound of the harp. Five minutes later she was standing nearly beside me, her eyes transfixed by the strings. I drew “MacPherson’s Lament” to a close, then glanced toward her.

“Hello, Cora,” I said. “It is nice to see you again. I haven’t seen you since that evening at the Crannoch Bay Hotel. I didn’t know you were interested in the harp.”

“Oh, yes, my lady,” replied my acquaintance from the co-op. “I’ve always loved the harpie, though yer’s isna a wee harpie like the ballad makers use, but ane the likes o’ the angels maun play.”

That is often how it begins—the shy glances…the staring at the instrument with all its unique and historical and spiritual allure…the timid approach.

The next question I ask when I see the familiar pattern unfolding always catches people off guard, just as it did on this day.

“Would you like to try it?”

Before Cora knew what to think, I was on my feet and urging her to sit down in my chair and showing her where to put her fingers.

“I dinna ken…,” she began as she flushed crimson.

Before she could finish her sentence, her fingers were touching the strings and she gently began to pluck at them.

The magic of the harp did the rest. Without either of us yet knowing it, I had just enlisted my second student.

“Would you like to learn to play a song?”

“I doobt I could, Yer Grace. I’ve ne’er been too smart at sich things. Adela says she’s takin’ lessons fae ye, but she was always mair o’ a musical bent nor me.”

“I think you could do it, too,” I said. “Would you like to try?”

Cora nodded sheepishly.

“Then in an hour or two, after everyone leaves, why don’t you come back? You and I will go inside and I will teach you a song.”

“I’d be pleased, Yer Grace. But are ye sure ye dinna mind? I dinna want tae cause ye no bother.”

“There is nothing that gives me greater pleasure than to see someone learning to play the harp. Come to the front door, and Alicia will bring you to me.”

The next two women who asked me about learning to play the harp were also friends of both Cora MacKay and Alicia Forbes. At first it struck me as coincidental, until I remembered that in Port Scarnose everybody knew everybody. Their names were Tavia Maccallum and Fia Gordon. I had met Tavia at Isobel Gauld’s B and B when I first came to Port Scarnose, and I had visited with her a few times when out walking. She worked for Mrs. Gauld part-time, and she also worked from home doing some kind of computer research. Fia now lived in Portsoy and worked at the bakery on the square and had seen me playing during the boat festival. The two of them had talked about me. Even before Fia had spoken with me about lessons, with Adela, Cora, and Tavia coming regularly to the castle once a week, I realized my supply of available practice harps was nearly exhausted. With the addition of two more students, I would no longer have enough to go around.

I began researching harpmakers in Scotland besides the one in Ballachulish, with an eye to purchasing more practice instruments as well as having information on availability for those who might want to buy their own. With the bank account Alasdair had given me, money wasn’t a problem. But I was frugal by nature, and I wanted to find the best harps for the money, especially for those who would purchase their own. The nearest harpmaker, of course, was nearby in Fordyce, only five miles away, but his tended to be specialty harps not especially well suited for beginners.

My thoughts also turned to Ranald Bain. I might be able to borrow his harp on occasion—temporarily, of course…I would not want to deprive
him
of it for long! Or even send one or another of the ladies up the Bin, either to practice on Ranald’s harp in his cottage or have a lesson with him. He had become accomplished enough in a short time to be able to help them work on the basics of technique and the same songs I would be teaching them.

I said nothing to the others about involving Ranald for the present, however. Until I actually needed another harp, it was best to keep the ladies practicing as much as possible every day in their own homes. I must admit my little studio looked suddenly bare with only the
Queen
,
Journey
, and
Ring
. But it gave me such a good feeling that the other three harps were out in the community being played upon.

After several weeks, I asked the ladies if they would like to come to the castle and bring their harps all at the same time and, along with their regular lessons, begin working together as an ensemble. I usually tried to involve my students in both avenues whenever possible. Being forced to play in rhythm and harmony with a group sharpened awareness and skills, and nearly always accelerated individual progress. All three women were enthusiastic, and so it was arranged. It was about that same time when Fia asked me one day in the bakery in Portsoy if I gave harp lessons. I suggested she come and have her first lesson just before I had arranged for the ensemble’s first meeting. Then she could stay and meet the others.

I didn’t realize beforehand that the four had known one another most of their lives. Nor until they arrived did the rest know that Fia had just had her first lesson. None of the other three had seen her in years. The unexpected reunion of their girlhood friendship was yet the more remarkable as our first ensemble lesson was breaking up and Alicia came in with tea. I had met Fia at the door earlier and until that moment, Alicia had not seen her.

“Fia!” she exclaimed. “I didn’t…How do you come to be here?”

“I came for a harp lesson,” replied Fia. “That’s right…I had forgotten. So you are still the housekeeper here?”

“Still here,” replied Alicia.

She set down the tea things. The two women embraced warmly. “And look who else is here!” said Fia. “Adela and Cora and Tavia. I couldn’t believe it when I walked in—all together again at last.”

“I knew they were coming,” Alicia said with a nod. “I see them all regularly now, but you…It is so good to see you!”

“And you! You look so good—you’re not a day older.”

“And you’re still as big a liar as ever!” rejoined Alicia. “But thank you. You look well, too.”

“No’ quite
ilka ane
is here,” said Adela in a more somber tone as she walked over to join the other two.

A few glances went about that seemed to carry more significance than I was aware of.

“Has anyone seen Olivia recently?” asked Fia, obviously reminded of my sister-in-law by Adela’s cryptic comment. “I heard she and Max moved to Aberdeen, but I haven’t seen her in years.”

“She is in Aberdeeen, ’tis true,” said Adela. “But I wasna referrin’ tae
her
.”

A silence followed, with another few curious expressions that successfully put a damper on the conversation.

“I am so glad you all came,” I said, trying to disperse the sudden cloud. “I thought you all did great. As soon as Fia has a few more lessons, we will be a regular fivesome ready to take our show out on the road!”

“Let me hear you play something while the tea is cooling,” said Alicia, pouring out tea in six cups.

“You heard her, ladies,” I said. “Back to your harps—how about ‘The Shearin’s No’ for You’? Fia, right hand only. Oh, but wait just a minute…I’ll run up and get
Journey
and join in. I was playing in my room before you came and left it there.”

I hurried from the room, ran upstairs, and returned two or three minutes later. As I walked in, the five women were gathered together in a small circle, talking in hushed tones. The exuberance of their reunion had been replaced by secretive whispering. I managed to catch only snatches of a few phrases.

“…what aboot…dinna ye mind…”

“…the foreigner…”

“…married her brither…not anymore…”

“…what she said…aboot beware…”

“…jist mair o’ her nonsense…”

“…wud she think…ken we were here…”

They clammed up and moved apart the moment I entered. We limped through “The Shearin’s No’ for You,” then set aside the harps for tea, with Alicia joining us. However, the mood remained subdued for five or ten minutes.

It was a curious gathering. After the enthusiasm of their first greetings, I expected them to talk and laugh and babble like ladies do, catching up on their lives. Yet finding themselves all together so unexpectedly had just the opposite effect. The odd glances and peculiar bits of conversation continued. No matter how I tried to bring up subjects I thought would prompt more talk, and in spite of all the questions I asked about what it was like to grow up in Port Scarnose, they remained subdued. I felt more like an outsider than I had in a year. I couldn’t help thinking the peculiar change in mood had something to do with Olivia.

“There is one other harper nearby,” I said after a while. “When we have had a few more times together and you are all several months into your lessons and know more songs, I thought we could invite him to join us. He also plays the violin, so there would be all sorts of possibilities for music we could make together. Maybe some of you know him…He lives up toward Crannoch Bin—his name is Ranald Bain.”

The words fell like a stone in our midst. The room went dead silent. I looked around at the others. Everyone sat with blank expressions, with wide eyes and white faces, hands holding cups arrested halfway to their mouths. I couldn’t imagine what had caused such a reaction. Gradually they began to glance at one another, full of unspoken question. But no one uttered a peep.

My suggestion put an even greater damper on the rest of the afternoon. After tea and a little more awkward small talk, gradually the women left.

When they were gone, I found Alicia in the kitchen cleaning up the tea things.

“Alicia,” I said, “do you mind if I ask you a question?”

“Of course not.”

“When I came into the room after going upstairs to get my harp, you and the others were talking quietly. It’s none of my business, I know, but I heard Adela saying the word
beware
—”