Bruar's Rest

morning she rose before everyone else. She broke a small hole in the frozen ice of the burn and washed her face and hands with carbolic soap, then set off without breakfast. Older and wiser in her hurt, she went in the hope of hawking an odd scourer or two.
    Money was scarce, though, on account of the war. The lack of food was apparent in and around the hill houses of Kirriemor. Children appeared thinner, old folks sicker. Not one single penny was to be had, so with a full basket and empty belly she set off to visit the only person who would give her a welcome, Doctor Mackenzie.
    ‘Come away in, Megan, how nice to see you. I hope there’s no ill health among you during this cold spell.’
    ‘No sir, we are doing away fine under the circumstances.’
    ‘Something is troubling you, though. Is it the lack of news on Bruar?’
    ‘Oh aye, he is never far from my mind, but it’s more his father’s carry-ons that perplex me.’
    ‘I saw him and O’Connor stumble from the pub last night, but in times like these it’s understandable. Poor man, the loss of a son is hard.’
    ‘I know what you’re saying, doctor, but big Rory has a demon in him, one that only drink releases. I don’t have to tell you, surely?’
    ‘Men have difficulty displaying their feelings, lassie, sometimes they drink to forget. You and Rachel, being from the Macdonalds, do the chanting, and if it works for you and you believe in it then fine, but remember that the Highland Stewarts are different.’
    ‘I always feel the better of seeing and speaking with you. I’ll go home now and worry no more on the men; if they want to drink and fornicate then that’s their own business.’
    Mackenzie laughed at her comment and said, ‘I’m curious why you should use a word like that. Surely drinking alcohol doesn’t involve sleeping with women?’
    ‘Oh, I’m not stupid doctor; last night the men took two whores into their beds, and you should have heard the moans from that tent. I call that fornicating.’
    He whispered to his visitor not to tell anyone in the town, for fear that the females concerned were cheating on their husbands, them being away at the fighting, or ploughmen working elsewhere. It might bring bad feeling from other women if they found out, so it was better to say nothing.
    Megan assured him, ‘If neighbours found they were slipping off their knickers under a tinker’s canvas, they’d be tarred and feathered, doctor, never mind bad feelings.’
    A loaf of bread and a quart of butter were pushed into her bag before they bade each other goodbye. As he watched this fiery lassie walk briskly up the road, the doctor thought on how wise and faithful she was; it was hard to imagine she’d not even left her teen years yet.
    As she turned the last bend in the road out of Kirriemor, a woman she recognised as the housekeeper of Cortonach Castle called out to her. ‘Are you one of the tinker girls? Do you want a job at the castle?’
    Megan went over and said that yes, she was a tinker, and what manner of job did she have in mind?
    The housekeeper told her that several workers, including two stable boys and three house staff had left to take up arms. Because of this there was a dire shortage of good working hands and they were sorely missed from the castle. ‘If you know anyone, there’s a small wage with board and lodgings of course. I have to go, the lady of the house has this very day received news that her beloved husband, Sir Angus, has lost his life in Belgium, a terrible thing, just awful. Of course, you tinkers wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?’
    Megan felt the anger tighten around her chest, her throat dried.
    ‘Madam, my heart is sad for the mistress of the castle, but my sister’s man Jimmy was killed over two weeks ago, and my own young man as we speak is also fighting with his comrades for the freedom of this fair land. So you see, missus, we’re all suffering, from her ladyship in her rich castle to us in our tents. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. It turns my gut to spend a moment longer in your starch-faced company.’
    The woman hadn’t meant to offend. Megan turned with a swish of her shawl and hurried off. The housekeeper watched the winsome youngster disappear round a sharp bend in the road, leaving her with a faint smell of carbolic soap and a feeling of shame that one with her years should need to be told off by a young lass.
    On arriving back at the tent, Megan threw down a