Bruar's Rest

Bruar returned to Scotland the freedom of moor and glen would be his domain. The tiny piece of affection she felt for this grim place was that it held her man in safety, but now at last she would take him home. ‘Can I see my husband?’ she asked quietly.
    ‘As soon as Doctor Cunningham has finished his rounds he’ll speak with you,’ said the nurse. ‘Meanwhile I’ll fetch you both a cup of tea.’ He walked off, leaving Sandy and Megan to wait. ‘Lassie,’ Sandy laid a hand on hers and continued, ‘far be it from me to pour cold water on this day’s meeting, but I think the doctor will try to put you off.’
    ‘If he does then I’ll slit his throat. Surely he’ll let me see my man?’
    ‘He’ll tell you that within these walls your man will be safe, whereas outside he may react differently.’
    ‘Sandy, no doctor breathing will separate us. I promise you this, if I can’t take Bruar home then I’ll set fire to this place, if that’s what it takes to free him. Do you have any idea what a place like this does to tinkers? My flesh is crawling as we speak, man.’
    In due time a small man sporting a tartan bow tie, metal-rimmed glasses and wearing a white coat far too big for him came in and sat by her side, took her hand and shook it warmly. ‘My dear girl, I’m so glad you’ve found him at last. Now what do you think of his condition? Fine, isn’t he? Oh yes, we look after our lads in here. They want for nothing, not a thing. Wholesome food and a warm bed, that can’t be bad, now?’
    Sandy stopped Dr Cunningham because he could see Megan’s eyes narrowing. ‘She’ll thump him in a minute,’ he thought. ‘Excuse me interrupting, doctor, but Mrs Stewart hasn’t seen her husband yet.’
    ‘Have you not? I was under the impression you came yesterday.’
    Sandy again interrupted, ‘She was unable to sign the documents.’
    Just at that moment the nurse came in with two teas. Rather than speak to the doctor, Megan drank hers down, an easy task because the tea was half-cold. She thought, ‘If that’s included in the good food, then Bruar will kick the walls down if he’s a spark in him.’
    It was obvious she was impatient, so the doctor rose to his feet and said, ‘Well, best go to see your man, then.’
    She stared at Sandy, then back to the doctor. Was this is it, then? After all this time they were to come face to face! Her hand reached out for Sandy’s; quickly he grasped it, linking her arm through his. She seemed unsteady.
    The walls of the narrow corridor streamed past. She stared up at the winding metal staircase, feeling her head swoon. Grasping Sandy even tighter, she counted the clanking of their steps on the metal stairs.
    Her heart sank like a river stone when Sandy pointed to the door. She looked into his eyes pleadingly, yet not knowing why. Perhaps she wanted him to wave a magic wand and bring Bruar smiling into her arms. As the doctor turned the brass door-handle she stopped him.
    ‘It would take a week to tell you all I’ve suffered to reach this moment. Can you give us privacy?’
    ‘Of course,’ the doctor assured her, ‘but just a little word of warning, if I may. War can leave scars of dark and ugly scenes where once beauty and happiness reigned.’
    ‘I have recently witnessed dark and ugly scenes, doctor, but behind this door is all the beauty and happiness I need.’
    She waited until her companions’ footsteps were reduced to a whisper on the stairs before turning the shiny brass handle. It was difficult; she didn’t imagine it would be, yet why was her arm feeling stiff? For all her love and devotion, would Bruar’s reaction be hostile? The experts made him sound like a lunatic. One final push of the door and it would be too late to turn away.
    Quickly she stepped inside. The door was a welcome support for her back. She closed her eyes, then opened them. Sitting like a school child on a wooden chair, his hands on his knees, staring through the iron bars of the narrow window was her lost husband. At long last, here was her Bruar in all his wonderful glory. Mind sleeping or not, here he was—safe.
    Apart from a haircut he’d not changed at all. She approached and turned him to her. Cupping his big chin with shaking hands she kissed him full and passionately. ‘Would you look at you, my bonny proud laddie, what are things coming to when Bruar Stewart sports a bowl haircut! Love, my love, I thank all that’s divine for bringing us together. Nothing