Hope began opening cupboards, trying to memorise where everything was kept. The kitchen was dominated by an old cream Aga, which had not yet been relit. Everything was functional, but well past its first flush of youth. Hope rather liked it, although Susie tutted over the lack of such essentials as a toaster and a microwave.
‘At least there’s an electric kettle,’ said Hope. ‘And look at these lovely cups and saucers. And what a wonderful old teapot!’
‘That’s a Wedgewood Blush Rose,’ said Susie, who knew about these things.
‘Is it valuable?’ asked Hope, putting it back down quickly.
‘No more so than many of the other things here. Mr Jackson’s wife, Millie, always said nice things were here to be used and I presume he’s carried on the same way. Oh dear, what was that?’ she said as a loud bang could be heard from the hallway. ‘I do hope they’re all right …’
‘They’re fine,’ said Hope firmly, when the crash wasn’t followed by shouting or swearing. Robbie Mackenzie was being remarkably restrained, she had noted, even when he trapped his thumb between a wardrobe and the wall.
Hope carried the refreshments into the front sitting room and Susie went to summon the men. This sitting room was lovely, south facing with a massive bay window flanked by rather faded but still grand green velvet curtains. There were a number of settees set around a generous coffee table. Glass display cabinets and fancy hard-backed chairs were set around the walls. Yes, thought Hope, looking about. She was going to enjoy staying here.
Robbie and Simon looked a little pink after their exertions, but soon recovered their breath and were happily helping themselves to gypsy creams and cups of tea. Lucy settled down at Robbie’s feet. After a thorough examination of the house the collie had reluctantly accepted that her master wasn’t home.
‘How’s Luke getting on?’ Susie asked Robbie. ‘Wedding preparations going all right?’
Robbie let out a gusty sigh. ‘I’m trying to keep out of it, so I’m probably not the right person to ask. All I can say is they seem to be taking up an awful lot of time.’ He turned to Hope. ‘Luke is my older brother. He and his fiancée Clare are getting married in September.’ He sighed again. ‘I’m his best man so Mum is forever on at me for my opinion on one thing or another. But really, what do I know?’
Hope couldn’t help smiling. ‘Maybe your mum just likes to involve you?’
‘You can say that again,’ he said gloomily. ‘In everything.’
‘It’s so exciting,’ said Susie. ‘We haven’t had a big wedding in the village church for a while now.’
‘They hold weddings there every other weekend,’ said Simon, puzzled.
‘Yes, but they’re not proper village weddings. Not for someone who has lived here all their lives and who everyone knows. This is going to be special. And with Clare growing up in Midbie she almost counts as local too.’
If Hope remembered correctly, Midbie was less than three miles from St Ann’s Bridge. How close did you have to live to count as local?
‘Your parents married in the church,’ Susie said reminiscently, turning to Hope. ‘You’ll have seen the photos?’
Hope frowned. She wasn’t sure she had, which was strange. It was all part of her mother not liking to talk about the past. And when she had died Hope had been only too glad to pack up everything and put it into storage, too upset to sort through it. ‘I don’t remember.’
‘I’m sure I’ve got copies somewhere. I’ll look them out for you. I was maid of honour, of course. But that was a small wedding compared to the one the Mackenzies are planning.’
‘Unfortunately,’ said Robbie, still looking gloomy. It was an expression which didn’t sit well on his tanned face. So far, Hope had only seen him smiling. ‘I suppose I’d better get back. Mama wanted to talk seating plans and I promised Luke I’d be there to give him some support. Although what he thinks I’ll know about it I’ve no idea.’
‘Remind your mum not to put the Gurney family anywhere near Mrs Slater. They haven’t spoken since Tommy Gurney ran over her cat in 1979.’
‘I’ll remind her,’ said Robbie as he rose to take his leave.
‘You’re not serious, are you?’ said Hope, amazed.
‘Of course I am. In a small community like this, feuds run deep and can be very long-lasting.’
‘Like the secrets,’ said Simon, but was silenced by a glare from his wife. Hope wondered what sort of secrets there could be in this quaint little place. Someone had cheated in the egg and spoon race? Swapped their flowers for an opponent’s in the annual fete competition? She couldn’t imagine it would be anything worse than that.
Chapter Five
Robbie didn’t know why he was hurrying back to help his brother. Luke hadn’t been very supportive during Robbie’s latest run-in with their father. But old habits died hard, and the two had always joined forces when Mamma was on her high horse. It was the easiest way to survive. Two of them against one of her, diminutive though she was, was just about an even match.
His heart sank when he entered the farm kitchen and found that Clare was also there. She sat next to his mother on one side of the table, as though they were joining forces, so it was two against two.
‘There’s coffee on the stove,’ said his mother, nodding in that direction. ‘Help yourself.’
‘Thank goodness you’re here; I thought you were never coming.’ That was Luke.
‘How did Lucy take to being left?’ asked Clare, but hardly listened to his answer. She tapped the end of the pen against her lip and said, ‘Now, we were just about to start on your family, so it’s a good thing you’ve arrived.’
Robbie met his brother’s eyes nervously. Clare’s turn of phrase was ominous.
‘Get your coffee and come and sit down,’ said Luke, sounding as though he personally could have done with something more sustaining than caffeine.
Robbie almost felt sorry for him. He was exchanging his interfering mother and controlling father for a woman who seemed just as keen on organising him, despite her slight frame. Perhaps Luke was the sort of man who liked to be organised? It hadn’t occurred to Robbie before, but now he suspected it might be true.
‘There are only fifty-three coming from my side of the family; I thought it would be more,’ said his mother mournfully. ‘Leo and Freddie and their families are coming from Glasgow.’
‘Yes, we know who’s coming, they’re all on the list,’ interrupted Robbie quickly. He didn’t need yet another run-down of who was and was not attending. And Mum hadn’t even started on his father’s side of the family, which generally made her even more voluble. ‘I thought we were going to talk about seating today? Have you got a copy of the floor plan?’
Clare nodded at him with approval. ‘It’s here. We’re having round tables, as you see, ten at each one. Your mum and I favour mixing people up a bit, my family and yours, but Luke says we should sit people with who they know. What do you think?’
Robbie felt unnerved with three pairs of eyes turned to him. ‘Oh, people they know, surely,’ he said. ‘As long as you’re sure they get along.’ He remembered Mrs Slater and her poor cat but decided not to mention that now.
Clare produced another sheet of paper. ‘OK, so who shall we put with who?’
Robbie tuned out. They really didn’t need him here. He was wondering how Lucy was getting on with strangers in her home, and how the girl Hope was settling in. Susie Ashbury would no doubt be telling her what to do, but he suspected the girl had backbone and would do what she wanted, when it came to essentials. He liked that idea. That was what he should do, too.
‘So what do you think, Robbie?’ said his mother, recalling him to the conversation.
‘Erm …?’
‘They want to know if you’re bringing a partner,’ said Luke helpfully. ‘As you haven’t got a girlfriend at the moment, unless there’s something you aren’t telling us, I’ve assumed you’re not. But as Ma’s ambition in life is to see us both married off she�
��s keen that you find someone.’
‘I am not keen to have you both married off,’ said their mother sternly. ‘I only want you to be as happy as your father and I are.’
‘Yes, Ma,’ said Robbie, rolling his eyes.
Clare put her hand across the table to touch Luke’s and at the same time he reached out to her. The way they smiled at each other gave Robbie a jolt. Maybe there was something he was missing out on?
‘So, do you want to invite a partner or not?’ said his mother.
‘I hadn’t really thought about it.’ Robbie cast his mind over the girls he had been friendly with when he lived at home. As far as he knew, they were now either married or had left the area. For some reason, Hope McIlroy came to mind, but he pushed the idea aside. The wedding was weeks away, the girl probably wouldn’t even be here by then. ‘Who are the bridesmaids? Won’t I be busy looking after them?’
Clare giggled. ‘My chief bridesmaid is my sister Molly. She’ll be seven months pregnant and have a very protective husband hanging around so I don’t think you’ll need to worry about her. The flower girls are my twin cousins. They’re only ten so they will need looking after if you’re willing to take them on …?’
‘I’m sure there’ll be people better qualified than me to do that,’ said Robbie quickly. ‘Look, do I have to decide about a partner now? The wedding is ages off and you still haven’t had all your replies to the invites.’
‘Six weeks off,’ said his mother. ‘And the deadline for replies is next Friday, so we’ll give you until then.’
Robbie wasn’t sure whether to be pleased with this respite or not. And how had the wedding got to be so close so quickly? That meant he’d better get a move on with the stag weekend he was (supposedly) arranging for Luke. Why hadn’t someone reminded him?
Hope was wandering from room to room in Kirkside, anxious to make sure everything was perfect for Mr Jackson’s return. She loved the house already and had enjoyed a couple of days here on her own. Now came the big test. Mr Jackson was due to arrive by ambulance in the next half hour. What would he think of the arrangements she had made? And more importantly, what would he think of her?
Susie had offered to be with her when he arrived, but Hope felt this was something she should do on her own. Besides, Susie’s daughter Sarah and the grandchildren had arrived, so Susie had quite enough to do.
Hope reminded herself she and Mr Jackson seemed to be getting along all right. She had visited him again in the hospital and she thought he liked her company, although he never said so. He was certainly keen enough to see Lucy again.
‘He’ll be here any minute,’ said Hope to the dog, who was following her from room to room, as though she knew something was about to happen. ‘Not long now,’ said Hope, bending to rub the shaggy head. ‘In fact, I think that might be them.’
She swallowed hard and went to open the front door, hoping she looked more confident than she felt.
To begin with it was all bustle, the two ambulance men keen to transfer Mr Jackson to the house in their own way and refusing to listen to his insistence that he could walk.
‘No’ up they steps you cannae,’ said a burly man in his forties, restrapping the belt on the wheelchair.
In a matter of moments the men had transferred the chair from the van to the house, along with the rather small case containing Mr Jackson’s possessions.
‘Straight into the bed now, is it?’ asked one of the men of Hope.
They had already wheeled the chair into the room Hope had indicated as the bedroom. ‘Er …’
‘Definitely not,’ said Mr Jackson. He had been ignoring them all, concentrating on greeting Lucy. The dog couldn’t bear to be away from his side, giving little whimpering noises and rubbing herself against him again and again.
Hope frowned, sure this couldn’t be good for her patient, but Mr Jackson didn’t seem to mind. ‘That’s my good leg,’ he said, when he saw her staring at him. ‘I see they’ve brought a wheelchair here for me like they said. I suppose you men can help me move over to that and then you can let me be. Can’t you see I want to look around my house, not be put straight into yet another bed?’
The men looked doubtfully at Hope. ‘If you could help Mr Jackson into the other chair that would be very kind,’ she said, adding in an undertone, ‘I think there’s a nurse coming around later, she’ll help him into bed.’
‘Nurses, bah! I’ve had enough of them and all,’ said Mr Jackson, proving he wasn’t nearly as hard of hearing as he claimed.
All too quickly the ambulance men had completed their tasks and driven away. Hope and Mr Jackson were left alone in the house.
‘Would you, er, like some tea?’ she asked hesitantly. What on earth was she supposed to do? She didn’t even know this man. She could quite see why he wouldn’t want her in his home, and yet it was her job to look after him.
‘No’ just the now,’ he said. ‘I’m going to look around.’ He began to move the wheelchair experimentally and banged the door frame as he turned. ‘I could walk fine, you know, but I’m a wee bit tired.’
‘Would you like me to help?’
‘No I wouldn’t. Leave me alone. Haven’t you got something else you can do?’ He manoeuvred the chair through the doorway, bumping it again with one of the back wheels. ‘Stupid thing! There, Lucy, that’s right, you show me what’s been going on here.’
Hope watched as he turned the chair, just managing to miss the door frame. She wished she’d thought to remove some of the furniture: there wouldn’t be much room for the wheelchair in there.
She waited to see if he would call her but he didn’t. He pushed the door closed and she heard him moving about, and all the while he was speaking to his darling dog.
He was fine. She went to sit in the kitchen and wait until she was wanted.
She had prepared a simple lunch of salad and cold meats. She’s asked Mr Jackson if he wanted anything in particular but he had said he didn’t mind as long as it didn’t come on a plastic hospital tray. Hope felt she could guarantee that, at least.
In the early afternoon the nurse arrived and then Mr Jackson agreed to go for a lie down. Hope began to relax a little. She had seen he was quite mobile and wouldn’t need as much help as she had feared. The nurse left Hope a leaflet explaining what Mr Jackson should or shouldn’t do, and she settled down to read it.
Apparently sitting or lying for any period of time was not a good idea. He had been given a set of exercises by the hospital physiotherapist. Hope looked over the list and when Mr Jackson rose from his nap she set about encouraging him to try them.
‘No’ just now, lass,’ he said when she first made the suggestion.
Hope decided to wait until after he had had his afternoon tea, then she tried again. ‘The nurse and the physio were both saying how important it is for you to move around. Why don’t you just try …?’
Mr Jackson banged his hand on the table, making his cup and saucer rattle. ‘Leave me be! Can’t I make up my own mind what I want to do in my own house? I’ve been nagged to death for weeks now. You just leave me be.’
He manoeuvred the wheelchair out of the kitchen, leaving his tea unfinished.
Hope sat her on her own for a while. She found she was shaking.
She was only trying to do her best. After a while she went up to her room and tried to distract herself with a book. Mr Jackson was tired, that was why he was so irritable. Things would be better tomorrow, really they would.
Chapter Six
To Hope’s relief, Mr Jackson’s temper improved slightly over the next few days. He even patted her hand one evening and told her not to mind him when he was grumpy. But he was still reluctant to do the exercises, and only picked at the food Hope prepared. He seemed more interested in Lucy than in people.
Hope found she was starting to feel lonely, which was ridiculous. Susie and her daughter and grandchildren had popped in and invited her out with them, but she felt she couldn’t leave Mr Jackson for too long.
She was more delighted than she should have been by the appearance of Robbie Mackenzie late one afternoon. Many of the villagers had, of course, come to see how Mr Jackson was and had chatted politely to Hope, but this was different. This was someone she almost knew.
‘He’s a bit crabby today, isn’t he?’ said Robbie cheerfully when he joined Hope in the kitchen after spending time with Mr Jackson and Lucy.
‘He’s still in quite a lot of pain,’ said Hope, immediately keen to defend her charge.
‘Didn’t the hospital give him something for that?’
‘Yes.’ Hope pushed her long hair back and sighed. ‘But he won’t take it as often as he needs. Says he’s had enough pills to last him a lifetime and he’d rather feel what he’s meant to feel.’
‘He’s a tough old stick.’
‘Yes.’ Hope smiled. Despite everything, she was growing to respect the old man. ‘He certainly is.’
‘What have you been doing?’ asked Robbie, looking around the old-fashioned kitchen. ‘I’m sure the deal wasn’t that you would spend all your days slaving away in here.’
‘Of course not. I’ve just put a casserole on for supper.’ Hope took the cups off the tray which Robbie had carried through. ‘I’ll tidy these away and then I’m free for a while. Mr Jackson is very good about it. In fact, I think he’s keen to get me out of the house, but I feel worried if I leave him alone too long.’
‘A walk to the farm wouldn’t take too long, would it?’ Robbie smiled encouragingly. He had beautiful dark eyes that sparkled as though this was an excellent idea.
‘I don’t know …’
‘Come on. My mum is worried about you here on your own so much, she’d love to see you.’
Hope felt disappointed it was Robbie’s mother who wanted to see her, but at least that made it easier to agree to. ‘All right. As long as it’s OK with Mr Jackson.’
Robbie grinned again. ‘It is. I already asked him.’ For the second time in a few minutes Hope’s spirits lifted. Perhaps he really did want to spend time with her? In any case, it would be good to get out of the house.
Family Matters Page 3
