We are going to read an excerpt from a short story written by Màiri E NicLeòid.
This story can be found in the book A’ Ghlainne agus sgeulachdan eile.
You can read the rest of the story in 9B Duilleag Obrach.
Shuidh Anna sìos air mo bheulaibh agus chuir i truinnsear bhriosgaidean ann am meadhan a’ bhùird a bha eadarainn.
“Siuthad, gabh briosgaid,” thuirt i a’ bruthadh an truinnseir gam ionnsaigh.
Cha robh ach an dithis againn nar suidhe anns a’ chidsin ach bha an truinnsear cho làn bhriosgaidean ‘s gur soilleir gu robh i an dùil ri còignear eile.
Chan ann à pacaid a bha na briosgaidean seo mar a gheibheadh tu nam biodh tu a’ tadhal ormsa.
‘S i fhèin a rinn iad.
Cha bhiodh i dol a–mach gu obair ach ‘s cinnteach gun robh i trang gu leòr a’ coimhead às dèidh a cuid cloinne, an duine agus an taigh.
Bhithinn a’ tadhal oirre aon latha gach seachdain agus bha i an–còmhnaidh ann am meadhan rudeigin: còcaireachd, nigheadaireachd, glanadh – bha i an–còmhnaidh trang.
Thachair mi rithe a’ chiad turas nuair a chaidh mi sìos dhan bhùth airson bainne agus bha e dùinte.
Bha Anna a’ cur litir sa bhogsa–phuist agus mhothaich i mise a’ feuchainn ris an doras fhosgladh; cha robh soidhne an–àirde ag ràdh gun robh e dùinte.
Dh’iarr i orm tighinn dhan taigh aice; bha ise na h–aonar oir bha an duine agus na balaich air falbh ag iasgach agus bha i ag iarraidh companach.
Nam bithinn air tachairt rithe latha sam bith eile gu cinnteach bhithinn air cantainn gun robh mi ro thrang, ach an latha ud, air adhbhar air choreigin, thuirt mi gun rachainn ann gun smaoineachadh mu dheidhinn.
Cha robh mi ag iarraidh companach ach feumaidh gun robh mi a’ lorg rudeigin agus aig cùl m’ inntinn bha guth ag ràdh gun lorgainn an siud e.
Cha robh mise air a bhith a’ fuireach sa bhaile ach còig mìosan agus a chionn gun robh an dithis againn gu math prìobhaideach, bha tòrr air nach robh sinn eòlach mu dheidhinn a chèile fhathast.
Bha Anna rud beag na b’ fhosgailte na mise agus bha e follaiseach an–diugh bhon chiad cheum a ghabh mi a–steach an doras gun robh i ag iarraidh bruidhinn.
Bha mi air fòn fhaighinn bhuaipe an oidhche roimhe ‘s i a’ toirt cuireadh dhomh tadhal oirre.
Mar bu tric bhithinn a’ tadhal oirre Disathairne ach ‘s e Diardaoin a bh’ ann an–diugh.
Anna sat down in front of me and put a plate of biscuits in the middle of the table between us.
“On you go, have a biscuit,” she said pushing the plate towards me.
There were only the two of us sitting in the kitchen but the plate was so full of biscuits that she was clearly expecting five more people.
These cookies were not from a packet as you would get if you visited me.
She made them herself.
She didn’t go out to work, but she was busy enough looking after her children, her husband and the house.
I would visit her one day a week and she was always in the middle of something: cooking, washing, cleaning – she was always busy.
I met her for the first time when I went down to the shop for milk and it was closed.
Anna was posting a letter in the postbox and she noticed me trying to open the door; there was no sign above saying it was closed.
She asked me to come to her house; she was alone because the husband and the boys were away fishing and she wanted a companion.
If I had met her on any other day I would certainly have said that I was too busy, but that day, for some reason, I said I would go there without thinking about it.
I didn’t want a companion (friend) but I must have been looking for something and at the back of my mind there was a voice saying that I would find it there.
I had only been living in the town for five months and because we were both very private, there was a lot we didn’t know about each other yet.
Anna was a little more open than me and it was obvious today from the first step I took in the door that she wanted to talk.
I had received a call from her the night before, inviting me to visit her.
Usually I would visit her on Saturday but today was Thursday.