The Tangling of the Web (6 page)

BOOK: The Tangling of the Web
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Often Harry vividly recalled that when the train stopped at all the stations with the grand-sounding names, like Pitlochry, Kingussie, Aviemore and Daviot, with its quaint little church, he would count the number of people who got off the train and how many got on. He also liked to see everyone who would be boarding with hens, chickens and ducks in cages.

Harry loved going to visit his granny. Her croft house front windows looked down over the Black Isle, and a short five-minute walk through the woods at the back of the house meant Harry could be standing on the Culloden battlefield. It wasn’t the tourist attraction then that it would become later, so in solitude he could play among the tombstones that marked the graves of the brave clansmen – his ancestors who were slaughtered there. Often he wondered about the stones that marked the graves of ‘mixed clans’. Was it that they were from different clans or was it that parts of mutilated bodies were buried there? After pondering this, he would go and run and whoop over the place marking the fallen English.

There were so very many other things about Granny’s that Harry loved, like her home-made bread, scones and pancakes, and his favourite, a large, warm, steaming clootie dumpling that she always made for him coming. For the three days it lasted, and he didn’t mind if the delicacy was served hot, cold or fried.

Of course, Granddad always had chores for Harry to do and he looked forward to being kept busy on the croft, seeing to the hens, ducks, sheep and cattle.

The only thing that Harry didn’t like about Smithton was he had to visit his aunt and her husband, whose croft house adjoined Granny’s. This peculiar set-up came about because Granny had been left the holding by her father, who had gone to his grave lamenting that he had never been blessed with a son.

Granny had had the large house and land divided in two, knowing both that her days were numbered and that Aunt Shonag would need to support her husband. Shonag got her part immediately, and when Granny died the remaining half would go to Harry’s mother, Flora, who, Shonag’s husband said, should get no part of the land or house as she had made a life for herself in Edinburgh.

Aunty Shonag was so different from her sister, Flora, in that she gave the impression that, like her husband, she was very holy. She also dressed the way he thought respectable women should. This meant her continually donning, even in summer, a hat that Harry was sure was an old, badly hand-knitted tea cosy. The balaclava-type helmet was rammed so fiercely down on her head that not only were her brows and ears never seen but neither was her chin. To add to her submissive and unattractive appearance, she was always kitted out in a long black skirt, which brushed her stout shoes and thick, hand-knitted stockings.

Given pride of place in Fergus and Shonag’s home was a painting that terrified young Harry. The likeness was of one of Fergus’s malevolent great-grandmother. So high in esteem did Fergus hold his ancient Bible-bashing foremother that he had turned Shonag into her living image. Always when she was faced with Harry, she would chant, ‘Children should be seen and not heard. Not heard.’

Harry would sigh and think, ‘And who would want to speak in this horrible, off-putting place anyway?’

From a very early age Harry was able to assess situations and detect where there was disharmony in relationships. He therefore realised that Fergus was a man who allowed no one an opinion that was different from his. His wife, who through her inheritance provided everything, obeyed his every command. She even chased after their cockerel on a Saturday night and made sure he was locked up in a shed by himself until Monday morning. This was done because her husband declared that he wished no ugly, wanton hens to be enticing his handsome rooster to dishonour himself on the Sabbath.

William, the only son of the family, was a different kettle of fish from his parents. Whereas his father was a strict disciplinarian, somehow William, who was five years older than Harry, viewed the world differently and always went about his day whistling.

As the years went by, Harry fell more and more in love with Smithton. He felt made welcome there by all except his aunt and uncle. Nonetheless it would always be a memory of great sadness for Harry that after blowing out the candles on his birthday cake, eighteen-year-old William blew away forever the pretence that his family was happy and united.

Harry always shook his head when he remembered how with a devilish smile and a cock of his head William stood at the top of the table and declared to the assembled family that he didn’t wish to go a-courting Kristy McLeod, who had been specially invited to the celebration.

Rising to challenge his son, Fergus demanded, ‘And why not?’

William smiled broadly to Kristy, who was blushing deeply. ‘Look,’ he began, ‘try and understand that I’ve nothing against Kristy. In fact, if I was going to be interested in any girl it would be her.’

‘What exactly are you saying?’ Fergus bellowed.

‘Just that …’ William hesitated before adding, ‘… I’m simply not interested in girls.’

‘Not interested in girls. Then who in the name of the good Lord are you interested in?’

‘Donald – you know, the blacksmith down at Culloden House!’

A deep, ominous silence filled the room, which was only broken when Fergus banged his fist repeatedly into the middle of the celebration cake. The assembly just sat mute as the cake showered down and round about them.

Suddenly Fergus, eyes bulging out of his head, roared directly into William’s face, ‘An abomination in the sight of God: that is what you are!’

William stepped back and gave a nonchalant shrug, which further infuriated his father.

Dumbfounded by his son’s attitude, Fergus now turned to face Shonag. ‘And you, woman,’ he screeched, causing her to flinch, ‘do you
now
see what allowing him to take Highland Dance lessons has resulted in?’

Shonag tried to respond but was silenced by a flick of her husband’s hand. ‘Now tomorrow,’ he spat with such ferocity his saliva sprayed onto his wife’s face, ‘by the first train to leave from Inverness,
you
make sure that that …’ he paused to turn and point to William, ‘… freak you spawned is on it. And he is never, ever to return to
my
home again as long as I live. Do you understand?’

No matter what she thought, Shonag would normally just agree to what her husband wished. Not today. Grabbing the neck of her balaclava, she whipped the hat from her head. Harry gasped when the most beautiful, wavy blonde-ginger hair he had ever seen on a woman cascaded down. Running her hand through her now free locks, Shonag whimpered, ‘No matter what he is or isn’t – he is my son and he has been the only warmth and joy I have ever had in my life.’ She paused, gulped in some air, looked her husband straight in the eye and further spat, ‘Now, my dear husband, listen and listen good, because if he goes … then so do I!’

Granny jumped up and grabbed Shonag by the arm. ‘How often have I told you that it was you who made your bed so you have to lie in it? Ogre he may be, but he is your chosen ogre, and because divorce is something no one in this family will ever sink to you’ll just have to stay put.’ What Granny didn’t add was that there was no way she would allow the croft she had bequeathed to Shonag to be solely occupied by detestable Fergus, her wily son-in-law who had persuaded her weak daughter to put it solely in
his
name.

Harry remembered being taken aback that his gentle and fun-loving granny, as he had always seen her, was in fact the matriarch who ruled her family with an iron fist in a velvet glove. He was further surprised when Granny turned to his mother and stated, ‘Flora, you and Harry will also be on the first train tomorrow and you will take William with you and give him a home in Edinburgh.’

‘But …’ Flora began to protest, but she was silenced when Granny took charge again.

‘In the port side of Edinburgh where you have put yourself now, William will be quite at home.’

‘He will?’ screeched Flora.

‘Sure. Do you know only last week Rena the milk was telling me that when she was down in Leith visiting her sister last month she lost count of the number of folk who didn’t know which way to turn. So that means our William will not be out of place there.’

Fergus’s coarse laughter echoed around the room. ‘And her man,’ he bellowed, pointing to Flora, ‘if he is a man at all will not give houseroom,’ he now signalled with a backward jerk of his thumb to William, ‘to that poof!’

Shonag, who Harry thought had turned into a magical, beautiful person, looked pleadingly at Flora. Nodding her head, Flora went over to Shonag and whilst lovingly stroking her hair she whispered, ‘My man is a good man. For sure I know my Colin will take your laddie in and not only welcome him into our home but he will also treat him as if he was our own son.’

Harry and his mother did return to beloved, beautiful Smithton but only twice after the family row. Their last visit was for the funeral of Granny. After the service, Flora approached Fergus and begged him to relent and allow Shonag to see her son, but he remained adamant. Unable to hide her contempt for him, she abruptly turned away, but she did vow to herself there and then that she would never, ever set foot in Smithton again as long as he breathed. The croft she had inherited was now to be rented out.

Harry never regretted William coming to stay in his home and, up to a point, Colin, his father, didn’t either. It was just that when Flora truthfully told Colin why Fergus had banned his son from Smithton that Colin seemed to ponder before saying, ‘The lad is welcome, but I don’t think our Harry and he should share a bed.’ This statement seemed to irk Flora, so to soften its effect Colin drawled, ‘And tomorrow, if we all agree, that is …’ He paused and looked Flora straight in the eye before continuing, ‘… I’ll take him with me and get him a start on the railway.’

At first this decision about the sleeping arrangements annoyed Harry because William, being older and now a working man, was given his spacious bedroom and he found himself crammed into the box room.

Harry was never sure whatever way it happened, but as the years passed by he forgot about being inconvenienced by William and the two of them bonded as close as brothers. Harry would always be so grateful to William for the help and support he gave to his mother and himself when Colin had a fatal fall at work.

Up to that time, seventeen-year-old Harry, who had stretched to five feet nine inches and was fortunate enough to have his slim, athletic form complemented by lightbrown wavy hair, twinkling blue eyes and a infectious smile, had never envisaged that his parents were mortal.

When his father was killed, it seemed to Harry that it was an unnecessary cruel blow and he found himself questioning God’s wisdom. Why, he wondered, did the Almighty take such a good man as his dad before he had enjoyed the full biblical threescore and ten years?

Thinking that only weak men wept, Harry had sought out times and places where he could weep in solitude. One of these places was in William’s bedroom, until William surprised him by coming home early. Harry was surprised then when William, instead of berating him, said, as he offered Harry a handkerchief, ‘Here son, cry your heart out. If Colin had been my dad, I would be suicidal at his loss.’

To everyone’s surprise, Shonag came down for the funeral. She had just got in the door when Flora said, ‘Don’t you be telling me you brought Fergus with you. I won’t be responsible for anything I say to him today.’

Going over and firstly embracing her son, she replied, ‘No. He is where he belongs – on his own.’

Cradling his mother closer to him, William, in a voice choked with sobs, managed to croak, ‘But Mum, how did you mange to persuade him to let you come?’

Releasing herself from her son, Shonag went over to sit on the arm of her sister’s chair, where she gave a triumphant laugh. ‘Well, as you all know, he is a man of strict religious beliefs and principles, so he never allows alcohol in his mouth. So when he forbade me to come down to pay my respects to a man I am indebted to, I just asked him to accompany me out into the cow byre, and going over to the back wall I removed one of the stones and lifted out the half-bottle of Johnnie Walker whisky that he keeps secreted there.’ Everyone in the room was dumbfounded. Shonag then continued with a wicked little laugh, ‘And handing Satan’s brew to him I said, “Here, throw it right down and over your throat like you usually do. That way you can continue to say honestly that alcohol never touches your mouth!” I then threatened to tell the minister his secret and suddenly he was adamant that coming down here was the right thing for me to do. He was so pleased to let me catch the early train he even accompanied me to Inverness.’

Harry was still grieving the loss of his father when he went into the bakers at the end of Halmyre Street to buy a Scotch pie. The young lassie behind the counter smiled warmly to him before saying, ‘Sorry about your dad. Nice man he was.’

Nodding, Harry felt his eyes well with tears, which spilled over when she added, ‘No need to pay for the pie. Eat it right away because it’s warm and it might … well, it just might help.’

Immediately Harry started to devour the warm delicacy, and when he had finished eating he lingered on in the shop so he could get a better look at Sally. He liked the way she had tied her light-brown hair, her best feature, up in a red ribbon that matched her rosy cheeks. Although she was not as beautiful as some other lassies he had fancied, he did like the fact that she was always smiling and that the smile seemed to reach her twinkling crystal-blue eyes. All in all, she had a captivating inner loveliness.

Every day after that Harry called in for a pie, and every day the lassie smiled at him. After the first day he asked her what she was called, and after a week he got up the courage to invite Sally Mack to go to the pictures with him.

Sally knew that
Lorna Doone
starring Margaret Lockwood was showing in the Laurie Street Picture House and she was dying to see the film. She was also desperate to be asked by handsome Harry, but she was only fifteen, and what if he discovered that she was two inches smaller when she took off her high-heeled shoes? Throwing caution to the wind, she just nodded in agreement.

BOOK: The Tangling of the Web
9.46Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub
ads

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