Free A Rope--In Case by Lillian Beckwith Page B

stone hearth. A steaming kettle stood to one side.
    â€˜Will I fuse the tea?’ asked Morag helpfully. Mairi with a nod of her head directed her to the biscuit tin on which Johnny was seated and she disturbed him to scoop out handfuls of tea into the large, smoke-blackened metal pot.
    â€˜An’ how’s bothyin’ agreein’ with you, Mairi?’ enquired Anna Vic.
    â€˜Ach, I like it fine,’ replied Mairi. ‘It makes like a holiday for me.’
    It is unusual to find a woman in residence in a watcher’s bothy. Normally the men fend for themselves while they are watching, hence the sketchiness of the accommodation. However, when Mairi’s husband, Padruig, and her son, Sandy, had taken the job of watchers for the season, she, being a conscientious wife and mother, had insisted on sharing their life at the bothy. She had also brought their one cow and their hens, maintaining that the change had made like a holiday for them too.
    One of the Americans was looking puzzled. She was tall, bespectacled and pimply and she had a loud, insistent voice.
    â€˜Don’t you have any room but this one?’ she asked.
    Mairi admitted that this was their only accommodation.
    â€˜You mean the three of you share this room—even for sleeping?’ asked the girl.
    â€˜There’s not three of us sleepin’ at the same time,’ Mairi told her. ‘My husband and my son are here to watch, not to sleep.’
    â€˜What about the mails? Do you get any mails here?’
    â€˜Indeed yes!’ There was more than a trace of indignation in Mairi’s voice. ‘Once or twice a week the man comes over. When there’s anythin’ worth bringin’ to folk such as ourselves. We wouldn’t expect him to come all this way with somethin’ that didn’t matter.’
    â€˜But what about supplies? How do you manage for food and things?’
    â€˜We brought them when we came.’ Main nodded proudly towards the line of full sacks and tins. ‘With that an’ the milk we get from the cow an’ eggs from my few hens. An’ with the sea full of fish an’ a salmon for the takin’ why would we be needin’ supplies?’ Mairi was very patient. ‘Are there no parts of your country, mo ghaoil, where they have river watchers that cannot get to the shops?’
    The girl looked a little subdued. ‘I guess so, but they wouldn’t have to manage without a telephone nearby and electricity.’
    â€˜Aye,’ said Mairi, ‘I believe in your country they’re great ones for the electric.’
    â€˜Where’s Sandy away to?’ asked Erchy.
    â€˜He’s away collectin’ gulls’ eggs,’ Padruig told him. ‘He’ll he back in a wee whiley I doubt.’
    Erchy inclined his head in the direction of Ealasaid. ‘I’m thinkin’ you’re right,’ he said knowingly.
    Ealasaid gave no indication that she had heard either question or reply and continued her chatter with her friends.
    â€˜Are you hearin’ me?’ Erchy called to her.
    She gave him a pert glance. ‘I’m hearin’ you,’ she replied with a toss of her head. The company exchanged winks and grins.
    Ealasaid was the shepherd’s daughter and she was extremely beautiful; tall and slim and creamy-complexioned with hair that glowed red as a heather fire on a dark night. All the men of the village paid tribute to her beauty but it was only Sandy who could make her blush. She was a kindly girl, gentle and yet always ready for fun, admirably suited one would have said for the career of nursing which she had chosen to follow. Unfortunately for Ealasaid, however, soon after commencing her training her mother had died and Ealasaid had thought it only right to come home and look after her father and the croft. She expressed no regret at having to forsake her career and I wondered sometimes if perhaps the necessary