The Legacy of Lochandee (9 page)

‘Conan?'

‘Yes. Beth and Lucy believe he can do no wrong, but he always brings out the worst in me. He makes me want to argue with him whatever we discuss.'

‘Oh that's Conan all right, but I don't suppose Beth expresses any opinions to oppose his own. That would get a bit boring for you and me, I think. Anyway Beth's known him nearly all his life. Her grandfather first got him interested in mending and making bicycles. When old Mr Turner died, Harry and Beth got married and took over the shop, so Conan spent his spare time with him after that.'

‘Harry really dotes on Lucy, doesn't he? I hope she never lets him down. I mean, she may not want to be a teacher, or she may not get good enough grades – though I must say, she seems a bright child, as well as very loveable. It's just such a big responsibility being an only child. You may inherit all your parents' worldly goods, but you are the only one they have to pin their hopes on.'

‘I never thought of that, Fiona. Even Beth is a bit anxious, in case Lucy doesn't live up to Harry's expectations.'

‘Few people realise what a responsibility it is …' Fiona sighed. ‘At night, when I'm on my own, I feel so guilty about leaving my own mother. I can't get her out of my mind.'

‘I don't think you've anything to feel guilty about. You gave up a promising career because you felt she needed you. You weren't to blame that she had less time than everyone expected.'

‘No? I wish I could be sure about that.' Fiona mumbled and turned away, but not before Bridie had seen a glint of tears in her eyes. ‘I'll make some coffee.' She disappeared into the kitchen. Bridie sensed Fiona needed to gather the control which she prized so much.

Rachel felt Bridie was more subdued than she ought to be for a girl looking forward to her wedding in a few months' time and she guessed it was the thought of leaving Glens of Lochandee and her beloved cattle. She felt sick at heart when she thought about her high hopes when she had packed up her vase and put it into the care of Mr Murray. Her only wish had been to make all her family happy, and keep Ross from being overworked. She had judged Mr Murray to be a man of integrity and he had let her down. She wished she had never let him take away her cherished vase, never allowed herself to be won over by his tale of riches beyond her dreams. She had wanted nothing for herself. The vase had reminded her of her childhood and the love and kindness old Minnie Ferguson had shown her, after the death of her own mother.

At last, she admitted her doubts and suspicions to Ross.

‘I never did believe a vase could be worth anything like Mr Murray told you, Rachel, my love, but I know it had great sentimental value for you, and for that alone it makes me angry that he tricked you into parting with it. I believed him to be a genuine man myself but it seems he deceived both of us.'

‘That's the hardest thing to accept. If he'd written to say the vase was worthless, I wouldn't have minded so much. At the least I might have got it back, yet we've heard nothing from him since he left.'

‘Fiona seems to have benefited from his advice,' Ross mused. ‘According to Bridie, the collector he recommended paid good prices for her father's jade and ivory figurines, and a chess set.'

‘I know, and the local antiques dealer gave her a decent price for her furniture, once he realised she understood the proper value, and she said that was only due to Mr Murray's advice. I just hate to think we were so wrong about him.'

‘Well, at least some good came out of it – your idea of building the house at Nether Rullion, instead of at the garage. Nick seems happy with the new site. I really believe he's looking forward to living there.'

‘Nick's looking forward to getting married and I don't think it would matter where he lived, so long as he has Bridie to himself. He's a good lad. I just hope they'll be happy together.'

‘Dear Rachel, you worry too much about all of us. Bridie will be fine.'

‘I hope you're right, but I'm not so sure …'

An unexpectedly bitter wind at the beginning of May sent the young lambs scurrying for shelter and Bridie was extra diligent in her shepherding, in case any were starving from lack of their mother's milk.

‘Mum has taken the car to get Ewan and Lucy home from school,' she said to Beth, when she joined her in the byre at milking time. ‘I wouldn't be surprised if we don't get some trees blown down, it's so wild. If it hasn't calmed down by the time we're finished milking, I'll give you and Lucy a lift back to the village. We'll tie your bicycle on the back of the car. It's almost impossible to walk against the wind when it takes away your breath.'

‘Thanks, Bridie. It's more like midwinter, and it was such a lovely weekend. I just hope Harry remembered to put his waterproof cape back in his bicycle bag. He and Lucy had it spread on the grass in the garden on Sunday to have a picnic tea.' Beth grinned. ‘He's just a big bairn at heart, my Harry. He enjoyed it as much as Lucy.'

‘It's lovely that he takes time to play with her though,' Bridie smiled.

‘Oh he does that, whenever he's not out earning money to educate his “wee princess”, as he calls her. I don't know what he'll do if she ever lets him down. She's coming on really well with the accordion, so he hadn't the heart to refuse to keep on with the lessons. Mr Urquhart has great hopes for her and he's convinced Harry that music would be an advantage if she does become a teacher.'

It was still bitterly cold when the milking was finished, so Bridie kept her promise and drove Beth and Lucy back to the village.

‘Harry is usually home before us but I don't see any smoke coming out of the chimney. ‘Maybe he'll be later tonight if the wind's against him,' Beth remarked as she climbed out of the car and unloaded her bicycle. ‘I shall need my trusty old steed to get to work in the morning. Run in, Lucy, dinna stand there with your teeth chattering, lassie.'

Bridie had only just washed and changed and sat down at the table when Ewan shouted, ‘Fiona Sinclair wants you on the phone, Bridie. She sounds all funny.'

‘Are you all funny …' Bridie grinned as she aimed a pretend fist at her young brother's head.

‘Not “funny” funny. Queer, like.'

‘Fiona?'

‘Oh Bridie! C-can you come? It's Beth. She's hysterical. I-I don't know what to do … It's the shock, I think.'

Chapter Nine

‘I
DON'T UNDERSTAND, FIONA?
Why is Beth hysterical? What's happened?'

‘It's Harry. He's d-dead, Bridie! Two men found him by the roadside. With his bicycle. On the brae leading up to Lochandee.'

‘Harry! Dead? Fiona, are you certain?'

‘Yes. I heard Beth screaming. I was just getting out of the car. I-I've called Doctor MacEwan. I-I didn't know who else to contact.'

‘Beth's like family to us. I'll come right away.' Bridie's face was white.

‘I'll come with you,' Rachel said immediately.

‘Oh my God! Harry? I can't believe it.' Ross stared at his wife and daughter. ‘I can't believe it!'

‘Somebody will have to stay with Ewan, Ross. You'll get him to bed if we're not back?'

‘Of course, but if there's anything Beth wants me to do … I'll start the car for you. Wrap up, Rachel.'

‘Yes. Phone Conan and Nick. Tell them what's happened.'

Doctor MacEwan had already confirmed Harry's death by the time Rachel and Bridie arrived at Beth's cottage.

‘I warned him a few months ago. He had a heart condition known as angina. The exertion of cycling uphill against such a bitter wind has proved too much. I'm so sorry, Mrs Mason.' Beth was quiet now but she stared at the doctor, white-faced, disbelieving. She was shivering. He looked at Rachel, standing beside her, a comforting arm around her. ‘I'll leave something to help her sleep,' he said quietly, ‘but she ought not to be left alone.'

‘I-I could stay,' Fiona volunteered, her face even whiter than Beth's.

‘That's all right, lassie,' Rachel said. ‘Beth and I have seen each other through troubles before. I'll stay with her tonight.' She turned to look at Bridie who was cuddling Lucy on her knee and trying to comfort her. ‘It might be better if you took the bairn back to Glens of Lochandee with you, Bridie. Ewan's company will help her as much as we can. Ask your father, or Conan, to come down here in the morning. There'll be – be things to do …'

Every family in the village, and many beyond it, were represented at Harry Mason's funeral. Fiona was astonished. While she had not known Harry for long, she knew he had always been cheerful and willing to help. Even so, he had seemed such an ordinary, unassuming family man in every way. Five of his ex-army comrades had travelled many miles to pay their last respects, and the shop in Annan, where he had worked, was closed for the afternoon. Customers and colleagues attended his funeral. Beth was quietly overwhelmed and thankful for the generous funeral tea which Rachel and Bridie had provided on her behalf.

Doctor MacEwan had advised that she should return to the routine of her work at Glens of Lochandee without delay. He felt it might help her come to terms with the shock and the awful loss, and he knew how vital it would be to earn whatever money she could, with a child to feed and clothe. He'd heard Lucy was a bright wee thing at school and old Mr Urquhart said she was the best music pupil he had taught for years.

So, a few evenings later Beth and Bridie talked quietly together, as they put the first milking machines on the cows, with the rhythmic pulsing a familiar soothing sound in the background.

‘Your friend Fiona is proving a wonderful help,' Beth confided. ‘She understands everything. She's done it all so recently for her own mother and she's promised to deal with Harry's insurance policy for me. I dinna understand all the wee writing they put on the bottom o' the pages. She's only young but she's that calm and capable, and easy to talk to, in spite o' her fine education.'

‘Fiona will be pleased to help you, Beth, as we all are. She told me what a good friend you'd been, helping her settle into her new house, and introducing her to folk in the village.'

‘Aye, I never knew how much we all need friends ‘til now. Carol and the two lassies have been champion … But Bridie, I dinna ken how I'd manage without you, and your mother and father. I'll need my work …' Her voice broke on a choking sob, as Bill Carr came into the byre to see whether the first milk was ready to take to the dairy for cooling.

‘You know there will always be a place for you with this family, Beth.' Bridie tried to reassure her, when Bill had trundled the milk churn away. ‘Actually, we shall need you more than ever when Nick and I move to Nether Rullion.'

‘Aye, that's what your mother said. It's really worrying her, you moving away, I mean. She's afraid your father might do too much …'

‘Harry's death has given us all a shock. He was too young to die.'

‘The minister said it was the Lord's will,' Beth said flatly, ‘but that's not much comfort when you're on your own at the fireside of a night. Your father asked if Lucy and I would like to move in to the farmhouse, to save paying rent on my cottage, but …' She shook her head in a bewildered fashion.

‘I know, Beth. We don't blame you for wanting to keep your own wee house, and Fiona agrees it would be better if you can. She looks at situations differently from the rest of us, almost as though she anticipates things we never dream of.'

‘Aye, she has an old head on her young shoulders – that's what my grandfather would have said.'

Building the house at Nether Rullion was not progressing as fast as Nick had hoped. He knew some materials were scarce and his home was not considered a priority, when there was a greater need to house the thousands who had been rendered homeless during the bombing. Even so, he was growing impatient with the builders' progress.

‘Nothing will persuade me to postpone the wedding,' Nick whispered urgently as he held Bridie in his arms after taking her to the cinema. ‘I've waited too long already. I shall have to share your bed at Lochandee after all.' He chuckled at Bridie's blush.

‘I hardly like to mention the wedding when Beth is still grieving for Harry, but I know she was pleased when I first asked Lucy to be a bridesmaid.'

As it happened it was Beth herself who mentioned the wedding.

‘I'm glad my poor bairn has something to look forward to,' she said wearily. ‘She's been ever so good and I know how much she misses Harry. The other day, when she came in frae school, she said, “Dinna worry, Mam. I'll look after you. I've told Mr Urquhart I'll be stopping accordion lessons.” I'd been fair worried about telling her I couldna afford them after the term finished.'

‘Lucy seems to have grown up all of a sudden,' Bridie said slowly. ‘She was doing so well with her music too.'

‘Aye, but Mr Urquhart says she'll get on fine if she keeps at it now, and if she gets stuck she's to go and ask him. He said he wouldna charge because she's a lassie with real talent and he'll be proud to help her.'

‘I'm glad. It's strange how these things crop up in families. Harry said there was no music in his family and I know your family are not musical either, Beth,' Bridie mused. ‘It's a gift.' She was surprised to see the colour rush into Beth's pale face, then recede as swiftly, leaving her whiter than before. She would have been shocked if she had known Mr Urquhart's thoughts in that direction. He had noticed how many of her mannerisms were identical with those of Ewan Maxwell. The old man had lived long enough to know there were skeletons in the cupboard of most families and he was convinced Ross Maxwell must have sired both the bairns.

‘Your mum seems to be worrying about the wedding,' Beth said, deliberately changing the subject. ‘She's always liked Nick so it can't be that, and nobody can say the two o' ye have rushed into it. I'm surprised Nick has been sae patient.' She gave a wistful smile at Bridie's blush. She missed Harry dreadfully and she didn't think she would ever get used to being without him, whatever folk said about time healing.

Rachel was not worried so much as sick at heart over her failure to pay for the house at Nether Rullion. All her plans had come to nothing. Mr Murray had let her down badly and left her with neither her vase nor the money.

‘Don't worry,' Nick consoled, ‘I never really expected you would be able to buy the house and I intend to keep it well within my bank loan. This is a lot better site than I would have had beside the garage, so some good has come out of your ideas,' he said cheerfully. ‘And it will be a good investment for me. I shall sell it to Ewan at double the price!' He gave a teasing grin, but then he sobered. ‘I'm really pleased we never raised Bridie's hopes of staying at Lochandee though.'

‘Yes. I feel so let down by Mr Murray,' Rachel muttered. ‘And I know Ross ought to be here, at Nether Rullion, carrying out his improvements. He spends most of his time here already and I don't think he realises how much responsibility Bridie takes for the dairy herd and the day-to-day running at Lochandee.'

‘No, I suppose not,' Nick said slowly. His own dreams for Bridie's future, and his own, were more concerned with rearing a family than rearing calves. He loved children and he knew Bridie did too.

A week after her chat with Nick, Rachel had a far worse cause for concern. They were only beginning to come to terms with the consequences of Harry's death when another blow befell them all.

Bill Carr was a conscientious stockman and he had never ceased to be grateful to Ross and Rachel for giving him a job when none of the other farmers dared risk arousing the Factor's anger and spite. Bill and his young daughter, Emmie, with her frail infant, had made their home in the little cottage at the back of the farmstead and he had been there ever since. When the war finished Emmie had married Sandy Kidd's son and the pair had moved to a farm on the other side of the glen.

Whenever Ross had an engagement to play the fiddle at one of the concerts, Bill always volunteered to make the nightly check of the cattle and the two remaining Clydesdales before he went to bed.

He had traversed the farmyard hundreds of times during his time at Lochandee, but on this particular night his heel slipped on a smooth granite cobble as he was closing the upper half of the stable door. It was such a simple thing but Bill fell awkwardly and his temple hit the sharp corner of a brick protruding from a wall at the side of the stable door. He was a strong man but the blow on the side of his head knocked him out. The wound at his temple bled freely.

The night wind stirred the dust of the farmyard in little flurries. A farm cat padded softly on his nightly prowl. Later, an owl called eerily as he hunted in the darkness. His victim squealed in pain and terror. Bill Carr was oblivious to the night sounds, and to the increasing chill of the cold stones where he lay, and to the rain which began to fall just before dawn. His life's blood ebbed steadily away.

It was Bridie, first out to the byre and the milking as usual, who came across Bill's inert body. She ran at once for warm blankets and Doctor MacEwan lost no time in coming. One glance at his face told Bridie and her parents that Bill's condition was serious.

‘He has lost a lot of blood. I'll phone for an ambulance. We need to get him to hospital immediately.' He turned to Rachel. ‘He has a daughter, I remember. Can you contact her?'

‘He is so bad?' Rachel's low voice reflected her shocked dismay.

‘I'm afraid so,' Doctor MacEwan nodded. ‘If you can give me the number of the farm where his daughter works, I'll phone myself and explain to the farmer. It's imperative she should get to the hospital without delay.'

Bill clung to life for nearly 24 hours before finally succumbing to death's clutches. He did not regain consciousness and Emmie was distraught. Strangely, it was Beth who found the strength and the words to comfort her. Rachel remembered how Beth had taken Emmie under her teenage wing when Emmie had first come to Glens of Lochandee, a frightened, bewildered girl, far too young to have been forced into motherhood, and later stricken with grief when her baby died during the diphtheria epidemic.

Bill's death was a sad blow to them all. He had been a hard worker all his life and a gentle and caring man with people and animals. The summer season was rapidly advancing to harvest time and each long day was busier than the one before, or so it seemed to Ross, and to Bridie. Sandy Kidd was no longer young and his pace was slower. His wife had once helped with the milking, but that was in the days before the war and before the milking machine had been installed. She had helped with turnip hoeing too but she was no longer fit for such tasks.

Ross was worried. The traditional farm workers still moved on term days at the end of May and November, and the end of November seemed a long time away. Moreover, there were fewer people wanting agricultural work since the war. Men no longer wanted to toil from dawn to dusk, and longer, every day of the week and in all kinds of weather. They had been awakened to other ways of earning a living, shorter hours and easier tasks, often with better pay. Ross could scarcely blame them when his own son had refused to return to work on the farm. Conan wanted the best of both worlds, Ross reflected, with a flash of the old bitter disappointment in his first-born. He wanted to live amid the peace and beauty of the countryside but he took the changing scenes and seasons as his God-given right. He never considered the labours needed to plough and sow before a harvest could follow, the sweat and toil of fencing, ditching and laying hedges. Year after year as spring followed winter and a new flock of lambs adorned the grassy knolls the rigours of winter were forgotten, except by those who had rescued starving animals from snow storms or waded through muddy fields to give them food. Ross sighed and did his best to ignore the gnawing discomfort in his stomach. He knew it was aggravated by his present anxiety, yet even when farming was at its hardest he had never wanted any other way of life himself and he knew he would never understand how any son of his could be so different.

Nick, on the other hand, seemed happy just to be alive, and to have put the hell of war behind him. Although his work was at the garage, he took a lively interest in everything that went on at Glens of Lochandee and all the other farms round about.