The Last Rose

Còig

Maili immediately sprung to my aid and pulled the man's hands off me.

'Father!' the young man shouted, taking his father by the elbow.

The old man shook his head and pointed at me.  His eyes were the size of apples and his skin as pale as milk.  'She'd dead!  They killed her.  I saw her corpse!'

My heart hammered so hard against my ribs I feared they would break.  I had no idea what to do, so I just stood as still as a rock.

'Forgive my father,' the young man pleaded.  'He is old and has had too much deoch.'  He tugged his father back to the cart.  'You're scaring the poor girl, athair,' he said.

Maili was once again arm in arm with me, pulling me away from the men.  She muttered about madness and the curse of drink, but I was too caught up with the man's words to pay much attention.

'Ceitidh MacDonald is dead,' the old man croaked.  'She's dead.'

He was shoved into the back of cart and the horses were set going.  They sped away with great cracks and squeaks.

Maili took hold of my elbows and turned me to face her.  'Are you okay?' She asked.  Her light grey eyes were wide with concern.

I waved a shaking hand haphazardly.  'I'm fine.'

And I was.  He was a drunk old man who had mistaken me for someone he use to know.  Yet I couldn't shake the feeling of uneasiness that his outburst had caused.  There must have been hundreds of MacDonald's killed in his time and that didn't mean I was involved in any of them.

But his face still remained in my mind.  That look of absolute amazement and terror when he saw me.  It was as if he'd seen a ghost.

We continued down the pebbled road with our arms locked.  Maili chatted about every little thing that came into her head, from the quality of potatoes that month to the gossip whisping through the kitchen about Ishbel MacIver.

Then we came to a fork in the road where Maili left for the village and I headed down a dirt path to my more remote home.

'I'll walk home with you. It's been a while since I saw your mother for more than a few seconds,' Maili said, already pulling me in the direction of my house.

'I'll be fine, Maili. Get home to your sister and look after her instead of me,' I replied. I detached our arms and gave Maili a kiss on the cheek. 'I'll see you tomorrow.'

Before Maili could think up another excuse I was traipsing down the uneven path.  Sharp stones stabbed the soles of my old shoes and damp flat rocks sent my sliding.

The trees grew thinner until there were scarce one or two on the hillside.  Heather was everywhere, brown and dull now that the vibrant purple flowers had passed.

I tried desperately to concentrate on the songs of birds, the light whisper of the wind and the soft gurgle of the burn but my mind was full of that old man's words. 

Smoke rose from the cluster of thatched stone houses that sat beside strips of crofts brimming with life.  Small girls and boys ran around the houses squealing and laughing while women in white bonnets sang waulking songs around a table with a length of cloth in their hands.   Flora lifted her head and grinned widely at me as I walked past the table.  There were gaps where teeth had fallen out and a scar that ran through her top lip, but the smile was infectious all the same.

'Will you be joining us?' Flora shouted over the singing.

The light was dying and there would not be much time left to work.  Already the sun was poked by the sharp pinnacle of Beinn na Caileach that loomed over the glen.