The Three Cannels
by Patrick Hutchison
Genre: Horror/Supernatural
Swearwords: None.
Description: Hope against evil.
Swearwords: None.
Description: Hope against evil.
The aal fishermin stood at the heed o the cliffs lookin oot at the sea. He shuddered as the caal ween blasted roon him. A win that cam straacht aff the Polar icecap an wi little land atween here an there. As it wiz, the barefaced chill tried tae find its wye atween the faisteners o the aal naval dufflecoat he wore.
If onybody hid been there tae speir at him fit wye the watter wiz streamin doon his chiks he wid’ve tellt them it wiz only the caal ween but it wisna the ween ava. The streamin watter wiz saat tears that he cast for his laddie that lay oot there in the freezin watters o the Arctic Sea.
He watched as the waves crashed against the Devil’s Peatstack in a mash o foam near hittin the tap o’t. It spread ower Loch Craig and Tarlair sweemin pool wi a boomin crash that vibrated up his legs even though he wiz nearly a hunnder feet abeen. In reality though he wisna takkin muckle in, his mind wiz oot there faar his laddie lay. He’d seen mony men die at sea in the Great War and it wisna clean nor brave the wye they tried tae tell the mithers, fathers or wives it wiz.
It wiz cruel, disgustin and terrifeein tae see men burnt tae the daith,biled by escapin stame or tae hear the skirls o them trappit ablow as the freezin watters rose tae choke the life oot o them.
Fit wye did his ain laddie die? Fit een did he get?
Maybe he’d been lucky and ended up in the sea wi the sky abeen him and died bit by bit as his body froze until the watter poored doon his throat an teen awa his misery. He shook his heed an wiped his face wi his sleeve, “This wisna getting ma onyplace!”
There wiz a squall comin in aff the Moray Firth so he turned an winched as the pain lanced up his legs fae the puckered skin that’d been left fae the burns he’d gotten fae the mined shippy in the Aegean durin the Great War. He made his wye slowly back tae Macduff tae keep his breeks fae rubbin the skin tae the raw flesh.
Fin he got in the door their neebour wiz in comfortin his wife. His wife’s een were fair reed wi greetin like they’d been ivver since they’d gotten the telegram fae the Admiralty. She rose up dichtin her een tae pit the kettle on the fire but he stoppit her sayin he’d mak a cuppy for her. There wiz little he could dee bar comfort her wi normal things. He wiz glaid now that he’d nivver spoken aboot the things he’d seen during the war. She kent that their laddie hid been killed an wi nae mair knowledge than that it wiz for the best.
She could see the pain on his face, though he tried sair tae hide it fae her. It wisna the normal pain she’d seen for the past twinty odd years as the skin grafts rubbed raw ower half his body. No this pain wiz much different. For the first fyowe years aifter the war he’d waaken up in the middle o the nicht skirlin and covered in swyte as if gan throwe the terror o the burnin shippie aa ower again. He nivver spoke aboot it, only funny things that hid happened or places he’d been till. Noo though aifter aa the years the nichtmares hid started again. This wiz the fourth time this week that he’d wint awa for a walk and she wiz getting feart incase he’d nae come back tae her. She’d eence follae’t him athoot his kennin an saa him staanin at the heed o the cliffs lookin doon at Tarlair an oot ower the Moray Firth. She’d wintit tae gyang up tae him an hud his haan so they could be strong thegither but she hidna deen that oot o respect for his need tae face his ain demons his ain wye.
Ower the last few years their life hidna been gyan affa weel. At first it wiz jist silly wee things like lossin keys or scorchin clyse. then slowly it began tae get bigger things. The scullery reef hid collapsed, the gear shed oot the backie got brunt tae the grun wi aa Michael’s fishin gear, then their wee skaffie boat hid wint adrift an wiz wrecked roon at the Sclates. Then tae cap it aa the the navy hid stoppit his pension for some reason. The pension wiz a pittance but the fyowe pound a year hid made an odds.. If it wisna for her gettin a jobbie at the fish yard they’d be destitute. Noo tae feenish aathing aff they’d lost their only laddie tae anither war. She’d lost the man she knew in the last yin for he wiz nivver the same aifter it and noo her bairn wiz lost tae this yin. Bad luck fairly seemed tae hae follae’t them ower the past fyowe years an she wiz beginin tae winder if somebody or something held an ill will at them?
Aboot a fortnicht later her man wiz teen intae hospital at Banff. Some o his scars hid gotten badly infected. She’d kent fine something like this wiz gan tae happen for he waakit tae Tarlair ilka day noo an fyles twice fitiver the weather. He’d jist staan there for oors lookin oot at the sea. He’d come hame in an affa state – fyles soakin o weet an blae wi the caal. She’d get him dried an gie him hot food ready for the next time he’d waak tae Tarlair. It wiz as though he thocht their laddie wid come hame on the tide.
Lizzie visited him at Chalmers Hospital and spoke tae een o the doctors faa tellt her he wiz affa nae weel. The doctor thocht he wiz developing septicaemia wi the infection. A nursie took her tae faar Michael wiz and she sat hudin Michael’s hand. She spoke tae him aboot onything she could think o. He hardly even kent she wiz there an fin he did spik it wiz disjointed stuff aboot their laddie or fishin or the wee boat that nae langer existed. She jist sat there wi her hairt brakkin as she watched the last link in their chyne o life get waiker an waiker.
The ward sister came inaboot an tellt her visitin time wiz ower. In her despair she hidna even heard the bell. She leaned ower an kissed him for fit could be the very last time. His een opened an he smiled up at her. For a moment he wiz back tae her, then his een cloodit ower wi delirium again.
As she left the hospital, instead o makkin her wye hame tae Macduff she waakit Wast alang the coast tae Fitehills aboot fower miles distant. She wiz makkin for Beannie Rannie’s hoose oot the tap o Fitehills. The locals caad her ‘The Witchie Wife’.
Beannie Rannie wiz famed among the fisher fowk for her knowledge o ‘The Blaick Airts’ an how tae look intae the unknown. So wi little left tae loss in life noo she’d decided tae speir at her if somebody hid indeed pitten the evil ee ontae her and her faimily.
The hoosie wiz a wee bit ‘but-na-ben’ and the yard wiz fulled o figures carved fae driftwid in weird shapes as if tortured Devil’s imps in the depths o despair hid carved them athoot the help o a mortal haan. As weel there wiz wee raised beds o fit lookit like herbs: anither thing Beannie wiz famed for. It wiz said locally that she could tak a corp back tae life an hae it dancin the Reel o Tulloch wi some o her concoctions. She chappit at the door, an gey nervous wiz she for she’d nivver met Beannie Rannie an only heard aboot her bein a ‘witchie wifie’.
A voice shouted fae inside, “Come in lassie the door’s open!”
She liftit the latch an steppit intae the wee lobby tae be met wi the fine smell o scones cookin on a girdle. The door tae her left wiz half open an wi a quick nervous tap at it she walked intae the kitchen. An aal woman stood at the table rollin oot scones. An sic a bonny wee wifie wiz she. Her facie lichtit up fin she saw Lizzie staanin there an wi a “Ae me quine sit yersel doon, ye look exhausted!”
Lizzie wisna aware o foo bad she really lookit but she thankfully sat doon on the settle she’d been shown till. Beannie workit at the fire: she turned the scones then swung the hotterin kettle farrer abeen the coals, speirin as she did faar aboot she cam fae?
Lizzie wiz fair trickit tae tak the wecht aff her feet for a meenit. She noticed the room wiz deckit oot like the wardroom o a navy ship. Fin she’d been at the skweel they’d been teen doon tae the hairbour tae visit a wee warship and this is how it hid lookit wi aa the fancy varnished widden panels polished like glaiss. She noticed as weel that the fire grate wiz blackleedit tae perfection an the braiss rails abeen it were shonin like gowd.
“Whit a bonny room!”
Lizzie hidna meant tae say it oot loud.
Beannie smiles. “Aye it wiz deen by my faither back in the aichteen aichties: he wiz a vricht tae trade.”
“Michty but it’s affa bonny!” says Lizzie.
Beannie laached wi a memory. “Aye but it teen him a lang time tae get it richt though, my peer mither wiz deeved wi aa the sotter.”
Lizzie got a laach at that but it didna laist lang afore the twist o misery landed in her guts eence mair.
Beannie tootered wi a tray an teen it ower tae the settle an laid it on a wee folding table aside it.
“Here noo ma quine. Get some o that doon ye!”
On the tray wiz a bowlfae o tay wi a plate o fresh buttered scones an hame made cheese. Lizzie teen a moothfae o tay fae the bowl an felt its waarmth gyang doon tae her belly. It wiz sweet as honey and she could feel her body takkin the gweedness fae it. She’d nae been takkin care o hersel ower the past fyowe wiks, being far mair concerned aboot Michael. Beannie stood lookin doon at her and kent fine that the deemie sittin there, for the want o a better expression, wiz at the eyn o her tether.
“Come on noo quine help yersel tae a fine scone. It’ll dee ye good.”
But Lizzie jist shook her heed an says, “I’m sorry I jist hinna the appetite but I’ll tak anither bowl o that fine tay if there’s ony left in the pot!”
Beannie smiled and fulled the bowl wi tay, milk an plenty sugar again. She kent that Lizzie wid tell her fit wye she wiz here in her ain time. But first she’d need tae get some mait in her belly. Syne oot o courtesy and Beannie’s priggin, Lizzie pickit up a scone an half hairtedly teen a bite. She’d nivver thocht foo little she’d been aitin but she seen stuck in an cleared the plate.
The warmth fae the fire and her belly full for the first time in weeks Lizzie wiz sair made tae keep her een open. Fin Beannie saa this, she speired at her if she’d like tae hae a forty winks on the settle. Whether it wiz the kindness she’d been shown or the absolute comfort o the room that did it, she began tae bubble an greet.
“Oh ye peer lassie!” said Beannie an teen Lizzie intae her bosie. “Let yer pain oot lassie!” said she as she rubbed atween Lizzie’s shooders. Beannie kent despair fin she saa it an tears aftimes helpit tae clear the system. Sabbin fit tae brak yer hairt. she tellt Beannie her story.
Aifterhins fin she’d sattled doon a bittie Lizzie wiz affrontit aboot sic a show o emotions. Beannie shook her heed sayin, “Na na quine we aa maun needs tae let things oot fyles!”
Lizzie nivver saw her glance up at the photo on the waa o twa bonny laddies in naval uniform. They’d been killed on the approaches tae Scapa Flow fin H.M. Drifter Ben Struan they were on hut a mine. That’d been back in nineteen fifteen so she kent only ower weel fit Lizzie wiz gan throwe. Quickly she said, “Come on noo lassie I’ll mak ye a fine supper then ye can get yer heed doon on the settle!”
Lizzie protested aboot imposing on her… but Beannie wid tak nae nonsense, tellin her, “It’s comin doon dark so ye maun bide the nicht here and the morn I’ll show ye how tae find oot if somebody’s put the ee on ye!”
Early the neist mornin Lizzie waakened up slowly an she lay cosy an contentit for a meenit as she lookit aroon the bonny room while the daylicht filtered in throwe the wee windae at the side o the settle. Drowsily she couldna mine fan she’d last felt this at peace an wi that very thocht the despair tore its wye through her hairt again as reality struck her. She gasped wi the pain and that’s fin she got win o the fine smell o ham fryin as it wafted throwe the room. She wiz surprised tae see Beannie eence mair at the table rollin oot scones for she’d nivver heard her gan aboot.
“Yer waakened ma quine? I hope ye got a gweed sleep wi the herbal tea?”
Lizzie yawned an rubbed her een sayin it wiz the best sleep she’d hid in a gey lang time.
Aifter a fine braakfist o ham an eggs Beannie tellt Lizzie foo tae find oot if the ‘Evil Ee’ hid been cast on her. Lizzie teen her leave o Beannie wi hairtfelt thanks and a big bosie. There wiz tears in baith their een at this fareweel an wi Beannie tellin her tae let her ken foo she gets on an nivver tae pass her door athoot comin in.
Lizzie left wi a rolled up news paper deen up intae a wee parcel. Inside there wiz three plain white cannelss an nine iron nails o the kind used by smiddies tae nail on horsesheen. On her wye throwe Banff she wint inby Chalmers Hospital tae speir foo Michael wiz. She wiz in luck! The nursie she saw let her throwe tae see her man even though she wisna allooed tae visit at this early oor.
Michael wiz far worse than yestreen, his body covered in big reed blotches an his breathin gey sair made. She teen his haan in hers an whispered her love and that she’d find oot faa hid cast the ill luck ontae them.
That nicht she teen the three cannels fae the parcel an put them oot as Beannie hid tellt her. Ilka cannel wiz three inches high an each inch stood for ae pairt o the Holy Trinity. They were tae be placed three inches apairt and at the bottom o each a wee card wi a word ontae it wiz tae be placed. The left haan yin wiz ‘Fate’, the middle yin wiz ‘Malediction’, the richt yin wiz ‘Destiny’ an fitivver cannel burned oot first that wiz the answer.
Lizzie lichtit the cannels on the strike o nine that wiz three times the Holy Trinity and she sat and watched. In the event the clock struck midnicht as the middle cannel burned oot, the ither twa still hid a wyes tae gyang. It wisna fate nor destiny aboot which little can be deen because baith are intertwined. It wiz ‘Malediction’ and for that something can be deen. Lizzie kent noo that the ‘Evil Ee’ hid been cast on them. She’d hiv tae wyte twentyfower oors afore she could dee the next bit. Beannie hid geen her the nine iron nails tae use if ‘Malediction’ wiz the problem and find oot faa wiz responsible. That wiz gyan tae be the hardest bit.
Lizzie gid tae her bed but nae sleep could she get for thinkin aboot faa wid’ve pitten the evil ee on them. The only person she could think on faa micht’ve deen it bade alang the shore. She wiz an aal woman that got a bad name amangst the fishermen. If ony o them happened tae meet in wi her as they gid tae the boat they jist turned aboot an wun their wye hame again. They’d tak aff their clyse, gyang back intae bed, bide there for a wee meenit rise again an get riggit. This wiz supposed tae hae broken the spell as they’d started again. Her name wiz nivver mentioned at sea. She’d a t-name that fyles wiz used but I winna mention it here jist in case.
Onywye Lizzie couldna see it bein her, she wiz jist a peer aal woman that happened tae hae a ringle ee. Besides she’d nae reason tae pit the ‘comehither’ ontae her faimily for neen o them hid ivver deen her ony ill.
Neist day Lizzie wint tae see Michael at the hospital. The doctor tell her he wiz fully worse. The septicaemia wiz slowly spreading an if it cairriet on like that he’d be lucky tae see a couple mair days.
She sat a filie wi him an dichtit his broo wi a damp cloot the nurse gave her. The blood fever wiz raging throwe him and his breath rasped like an aal winded horse. Wi tears trippin her Lizzie left the hospital and slowly made her wye hame tae Macduff, a teem feelin in her guts. By the time she wun her wye hame the licht wiz beginnin tae lower ower the Moray Firth but the beauty that used tae mean so much tae her hid lost aa its pleasure. She kent the reed sky abeen the sea wiz bonny but she couldna feel that beauty onymair. Aathing she loved wiz being teen fae her, even the very beauty o her beloved Moray Firth.
Eence hame she lichtit the fire an soon hid the kettle hotterin awa an aifter a welcome bowlie o tay she set tae deein fit Beannie hid tellt her.
First she shut an bolted the shutters on the windaes. They were gey stiff at first but she got some ile for the hinges. The saat air didna half roost ony iron, an aifter a fair bit o a chaave she got the fower windaes shuttered. Next she bolted the back and front doors, then sat doon at the fire wi a bowl o tay an wytit.
Afore midnicht she opened the wee parcel she’d gotten fae Beannie an teen oot the nine iron nails an placed them ontae the shovel at the side o the fire. On the strike o twal she laid the shovel and the nails ontae the coals and slowly let them warm and wytit. As they began tae get hot she heard a saft knock at the door and her neebour askin tae come in. Lizzie stood up an gid tae open the door fin she mined on Bannie’s words.
“Faaivver comes tae the door, nae maitter faa they are dinna for onysake let them in!”
As the knockin got mair desperate Lizzie wiz tempted tae let her neebour in for they were gweed freens, Afore she did it though and jist for her ain ill-fashence she opened the bottom o the fire tae mak it lowe. The nails began tae really get hett an that wiz fan the chappin at the door got even mair desperate. Then her neebour started on the shutters tryin tae pull them aff. The foul language that came fae her mooth wid’ve made a trooper blush and Lizzie could hear the scrattin as she tried tae claw her wye throwe the shutters.
By this time the nails and the shovel were glowin bricht reed syne aathing gid silent. Nae a sound tae be heard apairt fae the crack-crackin o the reed hett iron fae the fire. She let it be for a fylie, then teen the shovel fae aff the heat and put it on the binkie at the side o the fire.
Lizzie sat doon greetin her hairt oot. The anger and fear she’d first felt fin she’d heard her neebour clawin at the doors and shutters hid geen awa, tae be replaced wi an overwhelmin sadness at her ain loss but for her neebour ana faa’d seen fit tae tae pit a curse on her and her faimily. Beannie hid tellt her if the person that cursed her came tae the door an couldna get in they’d lift the curse and nivver again cast yin nor get anither tae curse ye.
As directed she awytit the comin mornin licht afore she unlocked the doors and opened the shutters. Lizzie felt seeck tae her guts fin she saw the bloody scratch marks faar her neebour hid tried tae claw her wye in. She thocht she’d better see if her neebour wiz aaricht but something stoppit her fae gan. If she could dee that tae a shutter fit could she dee tae her? Onywye the hoose lookit deserted so she decided tae leave weel aleen.
Aifterhin Lizzie traachled back tae Banff Hospital an gid in wi a sinking feelin intae her guts. The fine nursie met her in the lobby fair beaming. She hurried Lizzie throwe tae the ward an losh wiz she trickit fin she saw Michael sittin up in the bed haein a big bowelfae o porridge.
The doctor came inaboot grinnin and sayin it wiz a miracle for the septicaemia wiz completely gone. Lizzie speired at him fit time he’d gotten better and wiz tellt the fever broke nae lang aifter midnicht. Lizzie felt the goosepimples on the back o her neck shuzz and she’d tae sit hersel doon. Even wi aathing that hid happened the nicht afore it could’ve still only hae been a coincidence but this proved athoot ony doot that last nicht she’d been in the presence o pure evil.
Ower the next fyowe days Michael improved that much he wiz allowed hame. A couple o wiks later a telegram hid cam fae the Admiralty tellin them their son wiz a prisoner o war in Norway and wiz in good health. Oh me they rejoiced at the news and jist held eenanither an let the tears poor oot.
Aboot a month or so later a man fae War Pensions fowk came tae see Michael in person and tae apologise for his pension bein stopped. The man said that he’d been grossly underpeyed for the wounds he’d received ower the last twintyfive years so they were gan tae backdate his pension and gie him ivvery penny he wiz entitled tae.
The neebour noo?
She wiz found walkin aboot the hill o Doune completely oot o her mind and wiz tae spend the dear days o her life in an asylum nae kennin day fae nicht. The Deil tae his ain, I suppose.
If onybody hid been there tae speir at him fit wye the watter wiz streamin doon his chiks he wid’ve tellt them it wiz only the caal ween but it wisna the ween ava. The streamin watter wiz saat tears that he cast for his laddie that lay oot there in the freezin watters o the Arctic Sea.
He watched as the waves crashed against the Devil’s Peatstack in a mash o foam near hittin the tap o’t. It spread ower Loch Craig and Tarlair sweemin pool wi a boomin crash that vibrated up his legs even though he wiz nearly a hunnder feet abeen. In reality though he wisna takkin muckle in, his mind wiz oot there faar his laddie lay. He’d seen mony men die at sea in the Great War and it wisna clean nor brave the wye they tried tae tell the mithers, fathers or wives it wiz.
It wiz cruel, disgustin and terrifeein tae see men burnt tae the daith,biled by escapin stame or tae hear the skirls o them trappit ablow as the freezin watters rose tae choke the life oot o them.
Fit wye did his ain laddie die? Fit een did he get?
Maybe he’d been lucky and ended up in the sea wi the sky abeen him and died bit by bit as his body froze until the watter poored doon his throat an teen awa his misery. He shook his heed an wiped his face wi his sleeve, “This wisna getting ma onyplace!”
There wiz a squall comin in aff the Moray Firth so he turned an winched as the pain lanced up his legs fae the puckered skin that’d been left fae the burns he’d gotten fae the mined shippy in the Aegean durin the Great War. He made his wye slowly back tae Macduff tae keep his breeks fae rubbin the skin tae the raw flesh.
Fin he got in the door their neebour wiz in comfortin his wife. His wife’s een were fair reed wi greetin like they’d been ivver since they’d gotten the telegram fae the Admiralty. She rose up dichtin her een tae pit the kettle on the fire but he stoppit her sayin he’d mak a cuppy for her. There wiz little he could dee bar comfort her wi normal things. He wiz glaid now that he’d nivver spoken aboot the things he’d seen during the war. She kent that their laddie hid been killed an wi nae mair knowledge than that it wiz for the best.
She could see the pain on his face, though he tried sair tae hide it fae her. It wisna the normal pain she’d seen for the past twinty odd years as the skin grafts rubbed raw ower half his body. No this pain wiz much different. For the first fyowe years aifter the war he’d waaken up in the middle o the nicht skirlin and covered in swyte as if gan throwe the terror o the burnin shippie aa ower again. He nivver spoke aboot it, only funny things that hid happened or places he’d been till. Noo though aifter aa the years the nichtmares hid started again. This wiz the fourth time this week that he’d wint awa for a walk and she wiz getting feart incase he’d nae come back tae her. She’d eence follae’t him athoot his kennin an saa him staanin at the heed o the cliffs lookin doon at Tarlair an oot ower the Moray Firth. She’d wintit tae gyang up tae him an hud his haan so they could be strong thegither but she hidna deen that oot o respect for his need tae face his ain demons his ain wye.
Ower the last few years their life hidna been gyan affa weel. At first it wiz jist silly wee things like lossin keys or scorchin clyse. then slowly it began tae get bigger things. The scullery reef hid collapsed, the gear shed oot the backie got brunt tae the grun wi aa Michael’s fishin gear, then their wee skaffie boat hid wint adrift an wiz wrecked roon at the Sclates. Then tae cap it aa the the navy hid stoppit his pension for some reason. The pension wiz a pittance but the fyowe pound a year hid made an odds.. If it wisna for her gettin a jobbie at the fish yard they’d be destitute. Noo tae feenish aathing aff they’d lost their only laddie tae anither war. She’d lost the man she knew in the last yin for he wiz nivver the same aifter it and noo her bairn wiz lost tae this yin. Bad luck fairly seemed tae hae follae’t them ower the past fyowe years an she wiz beginin tae winder if somebody or something held an ill will at them?
Aboot a fortnicht later her man wiz teen intae hospital at Banff. Some o his scars hid gotten badly infected. She’d kent fine something like this wiz gan tae happen for he waakit tae Tarlair ilka day noo an fyles twice fitiver the weather. He’d jist staan there for oors lookin oot at the sea. He’d come hame in an affa state – fyles soakin o weet an blae wi the caal. She’d get him dried an gie him hot food ready for the next time he’d waak tae Tarlair. It wiz as though he thocht their laddie wid come hame on the tide.
Lizzie visited him at Chalmers Hospital and spoke tae een o the doctors faa tellt her he wiz affa nae weel. The doctor thocht he wiz developing septicaemia wi the infection. A nursie took her tae faar Michael wiz and she sat hudin Michael’s hand. She spoke tae him aboot onything she could think o. He hardly even kent she wiz there an fin he did spik it wiz disjointed stuff aboot their laddie or fishin or the wee boat that nae langer existed. She jist sat there wi her hairt brakkin as she watched the last link in their chyne o life get waiker an waiker.
The ward sister came inaboot an tellt her visitin time wiz ower. In her despair she hidna even heard the bell. She leaned ower an kissed him for fit could be the very last time. His een opened an he smiled up at her. For a moment he wiz back tae her, then his een cloodit ower wi delirium again.
As she left the hospital, instead o makkin her wye hame tae Macduff she waakit Wast alang the coast tae Fitehills aboot fower miles distant. She wiz makkin for Beannie Rannie’s hoose oot the tap o Fitehills. The locals caad her ‘The Witchie Wife’.
Beannie Rannie wiz famed among the fisher fowk for her knowledge o ‘The Blaick Airts’ an how tae look intae the unknown. So wi little left tae loss in life noo she’d decided tae speir at her if somebody hid indeed pitten the evil ee ontae her and her faimily.
The hoosie wiz a wee bit ‘but-na-ben’ and the yard wiz fulled o figures carved fae driftwid in weird shapes as if tortured Devil’s imps in the depths o despair hid carved them athoot the help o a mortal haan. As weel there wiz wee raised beds o fit lookit like herbs: anither thing Beannie wiz famed for. It wiz said locally that she could tak a corp back tae life an hae it dancin the Reel o Tulloch wi some o her concoctions. She chappit at the door, an gey nervous wiz she for she’d nivver met Beannie Rannie an only heard aboot her bein a ‘witchie wifie’.
A voice shouted fae inside, “Come in lassie the door’s open!”
She liftit the latch an steppit intae the wee lobby tae be met wi the fine smell o scones cookin on a girdle. The door tae her left wiz half open an wi a quick nervous tap at it she walked intae the kitchen. An aal woman stood at the table rollin oot scones. An sic a bonny wee wifie wiz she. Her facie lichtit up fin she saw Lizzie staanin there an wi a “Ae me quine sit yersel doon, ye look exhausted!”
Lizzie wisna aware o foo bad she really lookit but she thankfully sat doon on the settle she’d been shown till. Beannie workit at the fire: she turned the scones then swung the hotterin kettle farrer abeen the coals, speirin as she did faar aboot she cam fae?
Lizzie wiz fair trickit tae tak the wecht aff her feet for a meenit. She noticed the room wiz deckit oot like the wardroom o a navy ship. Fin she’d been at the skweel they’d been teen doon tae the hairbour tae visit a wee warship and this is how it hid lookit wi aa the fancy varnished widden panels polished like glaiss. She noticed as weel that the fire grate wiz blackleedit tae perfection an the braiss rails abeen it were shonin like gowd.
“Whit a bonny room!”
Lizzie hidna meant tae say it oot loud.
Beannie smiles. “Aye it wiz deen by my faither back in the aichteen aichties: he wiz a vricht tae trade.”
“Michty but it’s affa bonny!” says Lizzie.
Beannie laached wi a memory. “Aye but it teen him a lang time tae get it richt though, my peer mither wiz deeved wi aa the sotter.”
Lizzie got a laach at that but it didna laist lang afore the twist o misery landed in her guts eence mair.
Beannie tootered wi a tray an teen it ower tae the settle an laid it on a wee folding table aside it.
“Here noo ma quine. Get some o that doon ye!”
On the tray wiz a bowlfae o tay wi a plate o fresh buttered scones an hame made cheese. Lizzie teen a moothfae o tay fae the bowl an felt its waarmth gyang doon tae her belly. It wiz sweet as honey and she could feel her body takkin the gweedness fae it. She’d nae been takkin care o hersel ower the past fyowe wiks, being far mair concerned aboot Michael. Beannie stood lookin doon at her and kent fine that the deemie sittin there, for the want o a better expression, wiz at the eyn o her tether.
“Come on noo quine help yersel tae a fine scone. It’ll dee ye good.”
But Lizzie jist shook her heed an says, “I’m sorry I jist hinna the appetite but I’ll tak anither bowl o that fine tay if there’s ony left in the pot!”
Beannie smiled and fulled the bowl wi tay, milk an plenty sugar again. She kent that Lizzie wid tell her fit wye she wiz here in her ain time. But first she’d need tae get some mait in her belly. Syne oot o courtesy and Beannie’s priggin, Lizzie pickit up a scone an half hairtedly teen a bite. She’d nivver thocht foo little she’d been aitin but she seen stuck in an cleared the plate.
The warmth fae the fire and her belly full for the first time in weeks Lizzie wiz sair made tae keep her een open. Fin Beannie saa this, she speired at her if she’d like tae hae a forty winks on the settle. Whether it wiz the kindness she’d been shown or the absolute comfort o the room that did it, she began tae bubble an greet.
“Oh ye peer lassie!” said Beannie an teen Lizzie intae her bosie. “Let yer pain oot lassie!” said she as she rubbed atween Lizzie’s shooders. Beannie kent despair fin she saa it an tears aftimes helpit tae clear the system. Sabbin fit tae brak yer hairt. she tellt Beannie her story.
Aifterhins fin she’d sattled doon a bittie Lizzie wiz affrontit aboot sic a show o emotions. Beannie shook her heed sayin, “Na na quine we aa maun needs tae let things oot fyles!”
Lizzie nivver saw her glance up at the photo on the waa o twa bonny laddies in naval uniform. They’d been killed on the approaches tae Scapa Flow fin H.M. Drifter Ben Struan they were on hut a mine. That’d been back in nineteen fifteen so she kent only ower weel fit Lizzie wiz gan throwe. Quickly she said, “Come on noo lassie I’ll mak ye a fine supper then ye can get yer heed doon on the settle!”
Lizzie protested aboot imposing on her… but Beannie wid tak nae nonsense, tellin her, “It’s comin doon dark so ye maun bide the nicht here and the morn I’ll show ye how tae find oot if somebody’s put the ee on ye!”
Early the neist mornin Lizzie waakened up slowly an she lay cosy an contentit for a meenit as she lookit aroon the bonny room while the daylicht filtered in throwe the wee windae at the side o the settle. Drowsily she couldna mine fan she’d last felt this at peace an wi that very thocht the despair tore its wye through her hairt again as reality struck her. She gasped wi the pain and that’s fin she got win o the fine smell o ham fryin as it wafted throwe the room. She wiz surprised tae see Beannie eence mair at the table rollin oot scones for she’d nivver heard her gan aboot.
“Yer waakened ma quine? I hope ye got a gweed sleep wi the herbal tea?”
Lizzie yawned an rubbed her een sayin it wiz the best sleep she’d hid in a gey lang time.
Aifter a fine braakfist o ham an eggs Beannie tellt Lizzie foo tae find oot if the ‘Evil Ee’ hid been cast on her. Lizzie teen her leave o Beannie wi hairtfelt thanks and a big bosie. There wiz tears in baith their een at this fareweel an wi Beannie tellin her tae let her ken foo she gets on an nivver tae pass her door athoot comin in.
Lizzie left wi a rolled up news paper deen up intae a wee parcel. Inside there wiz three plain white cannelss an nine iron nails o the kind used by smiddies tae nail on horsesheen. On her wye throwe Banff she wint inby Chalmers Hospital tae speir foo Michael wiz. She wiz in luck! The nursie she saw let her throwe tae see her man even though she wisna allooed tae visit at this early oor.
Michael wiz far worse than yestreen, his body covered in big reed blotches an his breathin gey sair made. She teen his haan in hers an whispered her love and that she’d find oot faa hid cast the ill luck ontae them.
That nicht she teen the three cannels fae the parcel an put them oot as Beannie hid tellt her. Ilka cannel wiz three inches high an each inch stood for ae pairt o the Holy Trinity. They were tae be placed three inches apairt and at the bottom o each a wee card wi a word ontae it wiz tae be placed. The left haan yin wiz ‘Fate’, the middle yin wiz ‘Malediction’, the richt yin wiz ‘Destiny’ an fitivver cannel burned oot first that wiz the answer.
Lizzie lichtit the cannels on the strike o nine that wiz three times the Holy Trinity and she sat and watched. In the event the clock struck midnicht as the middle cannel burned oot, the ither twa still hid a wyes tae gyang. It wisna fate nor destiny aboot which little can be deen because baith are intertwined. It wiz ‘Malediction’ and for that something can be deen. Lizzie kent noo that the ‘Evil Ee’ hid been cast on them. She’d hiv tae wyte twentyfower oors afore she could dee the next bit. Beannie hid geen her the nine iron nails tae use if ‘Malediction’ wiz the problem and find oot faa wiz responsible. That wiz gyan tae be the hardest bit.
Lizzie gid tae her bed but nae sleep could she get for thinkin aboot faa wid’ve pitten the evil ee on them. The only person she could think on faa micht’ve deen it bade alang the shore. She wiz an aal woman that got a bad name amangst the fishermen. If ony o them happened tae meet in wi her as they gid tae the boat they jist turned aboot an wun their wye hame again. They’d tak aff their clyse, gyang back intae bed, bide there for a wee meenit rise again an get riggit. This wiz supposed tae hae broken the spell as they’d started again. Her name wiz nivver mentioned at sea. She’d a t-name that fyles wiz used but I winna mention it here jist in case.
Onywye Lizzie couldna see it bein her, she wiz jist a peer aal woman that happened tae hae a ringle ee. Besides she’d nae reason tae pit the ‘comehither’ ontae her faimily for neen o them hid ivver deen her ony ill.
Neist day Lizzie wint tae see Michael at the hospital. The doctor tell her he wiz fully worse. The septicaemia wiz slowly spreading an if it cairriet on like that he’d be lucky tae see a couple mair days.
She sat a filie wi him an dichtit his broo wi a damp cloot the nurse gave her. The blood fever wiz raging throwe him and his breath rasped like an aal winded horse. Wi tears trippin her Lizzie left the hospital and slowly made her wye hame tae Macduff, a teem feelin in her guts. By the time she wun her wye hame the licht wiz beginnin tae lower ower the Moray Firth but the beauty that used tae mean so much tae her hid lost aa its pleasure. She kent the reed sky abeen the sea wiz bonny but she couldna feel that beauty onymair. Aathing she loved wiz being teen fae her, even the very beauty o her beloved Moray Firth.
Eence hame she lichtit the fire an soon hid the kettle hotterin awa an aifter a welcome bowlie o tay she set tae deein fit Beannie hid tellt her.
First she shut an bolted the shutters on the windaes. They were gey stiff at first but she got some ile for the hinges. The saat air didna half roost ony iron, an aifter a fair bit o a chaave she got the fower windaes shuttered. Next she bolted the back and front doors, then sat doon at the fire wi a bowl o tay an wytit.
Afore midnicht she opened the wee parcel she’d gotten fae Beannie an teen oot the nine iron nails an placed them ontae the shovel at the side o the fire. On the strike o twal she laid the shovel and the nails ontae the coals and slowly let them warm and wytit. As they began tae get hot she heard a saft knock at the door and her neebour askin tae come in. Lizzie stood up an gid tae open the door fin she mined on Bannie’s words.
“Faaivver comes tae the door, nae maitter faa they are dinna for onysake let them in!”
As the knockin got mair desperate Lizzie wiz tempted tae let her neebour in for they were gweed freens, Afore she did it though and jist for her ain ill-fashence she opened the bottom o the fire tae mak it lowe. The nails began tae really get hett an that wiz fan the chappin at the door got even mair desperate. Then her neebour started on the shutters tryin tae pull them aff. The foul language that came fae her mooth wid’ve made a trooper blush and Lizzie could hear the scrattin as she tried tae claw her wye throwe the shutters.
By this time the nails and the shovel were glowin bricht reed syne aathing gid silent. Nae a sound tae be heard apairt fae the crack-crackin o the reed hett iron fae the fire. She let it be for a fylie, then teen the shovel fae aff the heat and put it on the binkie at the side o the fire.
Lizzie sat doon greetin her hairt oot. The anger and fear she’d first felt fin she’d heard her neebour clawin at the doors and shutters hid geen awa, tae be replaced wi an overwhelmin sadness at her ain loss but for her neebour ana faa’d seen fit tae tae pit a curse on her and her faimily. Beannie hid tellt her if the person that cursed her came tae the door an couldna get in they’d lift the curse and nivver again cast yin nor get anither tae curse ye.
As directed she awytit the comin mornin licht afore she unlocked the doors and opened the shutters. Lizzie felt seeck tae her guts fin she saw the bloody scratch marks faar her neebour hid tried tae claw her wye in. She thocht she’d better see if her neebour wiz aaricht but something stoppit her fae gan. If she could dee that tae a shutter fit could she dee tae her? Onywye the hoose lookit deserted so she decided tae leave weel aleen.
Aifterhin Lizzie traachled back tae Banff Hospital an gid in wi a sinking feelin intae her guts. The fine nursie met her in the lobby fair beaming. She hurried Lizzie throwe tae the ward an losh wiz she trickit fin she saw Michael sittin up in the bed haein a big bowelfae o porridge.
The doctor came inaboot grinnin and sayin it wiz a miracle for the septicaemia wiz completely gone. Lizzie speired at him fit time he’d gotten better and wiz tellt the fever broke nae lang aifter midnicht. Lizzie felt the goosepimples on the back o her neck shuzz and she’d tae sit hersel doon. Even wi aathing that hid happened the nicht afore it could’ve still only hae been a coincidence but this proved athoot ony doot that last nicht she’d been in the presence o pure evil.
Ower the next fyowe days Michael improved that much he wiz allowed hame. A couple o wiks later a telegram hid cam fae the Admiralty tellin them their son wiz a prisoner o war in Norway and wiz in good health. Oh me they rejoiced at the news and jist held eenanither an let the tears poor oot.
Aboot a month or so later a man fae War Pensions fowk came tae see Michael in person and tae apologise for his pension bein stopped. The man said that he’d been grossly underpeyed for the wounds he’d received ower the last twintyfive years so they were gan tae backdate his pension and gie him ivvery penny he wiz entitled tae.
The neebour noo?
She wiz found walkin aboot the hill o Doune completely oot o her mind and wiz tae spend the dear days o her life in an asylum nae kennin day fae nicht. The Deil tae his ain, I suppose.
About the Author
Patrick Hutchison was born in New Deer, Aberdeenshire, in the mid-Fifties and has lived all his life in the North-East of Scotland. Now retired, he loves the stories and folklore of the area and writes all his own stories in the Banffshire Doric. His first collection of stories, Sanners Gow’s Tales and Folklore of the Buchan, is available in paperback from the unco online bookstore.