Love and Music Will Endure by Liz Macrae Shaw Page A

towards what would await her at home. The girls would have coped well she was sure but no doubt the
cailleach
, that bed-bound brooding presence, would punish Màiri for daring to escape.
    ‘What a wonder she is, almost one hundred now, as old as Methusalah,’ Màiri’s neighbour would declare, shaking her head in amazement while Màiri grimaced, thinking her great age more a curse than a wonder. Although the old woman wasslowly sinking she still seemed to be immortal. No matter how much her body weakened, that complaining voice never lost its strength, resounding through the house and throbbing in her ears. How unjust it seemed that this old hag was called Flòraidh, the same given name as Mamma, dead now for some years, such an anxious soul who had tried to tread carefully through life. Now that she was older herself, Màiri could understand how trampled Mamma had been both by herself and Pappa, big heedless beasts who churned up her hopes and plans. Now, mother-in-law Flòraidh was a different matter. She caused trouble deliberately, using her tongue as a bludgeoning sword. When Isaac had first introduced them she had snorted, ‘So this is the lassie from Skye who thought herself above calling on us when she arrived.’
    ‘Well Mother, there’s no harm done. We met each other in our own time.’
    But the harridan wouldn’t be silenced. ‘She’s no beauty and she’ll need to be broken to the bridle. Still she looks as strong as a mare. She should breed healthy children.’
    When Màiri felt her first child quicken within her she knew that she could not endure having this woman near her when her time came.
    ‘I know you want to go back to Skye to have the first baby,’ Isaac said, ‘but it’s too far. You can’t travel on your own when you’re near your time and I can’t afford to lose you. Surely my mother will be enough help for you. She’s had plenty children and knows what it’s about.’
    How like a man to imagine that any woman would do as a support, as if helping with a birth was only about knowledge rather than trust and affection. Her fears had swelled alongside the growing baby and in the end she confided in Morag, who listened quietly and then asked, ‘Would your mother be able to come down if you got word to her?’
    ‘I’m sure she would but how can I get a message to her? I would need Isaac to write it and give it to someone travelling to Skye. I don’t think he would be willing to do that. He would be afraid of what the old witch his mother would say.’ Màiri felt disheartened.
    ‘So we’ll have to get someone else to write it.’
    ‘But who can we get to do that?’
    Morag smiled shyly, ‘I could write it for you.’
    ‘You can write, and read too?’ Màiri gawped as her friend nodded.
    ‘I’m rusty but I’ve never forgotten. My parents sent me to the church school. I was the only one of their children left alive and they wanted me to have more chances than they did. I learnt to read Gaelic first so that I could read the Bible to them. Then I started to learn English too.’
    ‘So why are you just a washerwoman? I’m as ignorant of learning as a bird on the wing but you …’
    ‘It all came to an end when my Pappa died suddenly. I was ten years old and my mother had no money. She sent me to my aunt in the town to earn my living. How I railed against my poor mother. I’d loved the school and I didn’t notice how thin my mother was getting. She died within a year, poor soul, and by then I was a kitchen skivvy.’
    ‘Did anyone know that you could read and write?’
    ‘No. I kept it secret. Masters don’t like servants who know too much.’
    The message was safely delivered and so was she. Her mother had coaxed and cajoled her through the ordeal of Flora’s birth.
    ‘How did you know when to come for Màiri’s lying-in?’ Isaac asked her.
    ‘Now you’re descended from Skye folk. You shouldn’t need to ask that question.’
    ‘Second sight?’
    ‘Of course,’