‘We’ll take the scenic route,’ said Robbie, turning left out of Kirkside’s drive. As far as Hope knew, this led only to the church, but she followed obediently. They walked past the old stone wall that surrounded the churchyard, across the rough parking area and down to the river. Hope had never thought to push her way through the long grass and brambles but Robbie seemed to know what he was doing.
‘There used to be a path here somewhere … Aye, here it is.’ He stamped down the grass to make it easier for her to reach him and held out a hand when she almost overbalanced avoiding a bramble that seemed determined to cling to her skirt. She didn’t really need his help, but it was kind of him to worry. He continued to hold her hand for a moment as he drew her to the water’s edge and she was sorry when he let go.
‘It’s lovely down here,’ she said. There were willows overhanging the slow-moving water and the banks on both sides were overgrown with nettles and reeds and masses of wild flowers.
‘The water’s low at this time of year. In winter it can be a torrent. It’s a good river, though, not much polluted and I hear the salmon are better than ever this year.’
Hope looked around with new eyes. She had heard from Susie that Robbie worked as some kind of countryside warden. He would know about things like that. To him the river was more than just a pretty sight.
‘It doesn’t look like pollution was ever a problem here.’
‘Oh, believe me, it has been. There used to be a small animal-feed factory upstream which was forever discharging waste into the burn that fed into the Kinnen Water here. If you have too many nutrients you upset the whole ecological balance. And more recently there have been problems with silage run-off. Not from our farm, we don’t have silage, and I have to say Dad is very particular about not causing pollution. Unfortunately, there are others who just don’t care.’
‘Gosh,’ said Hope, realised how little she knew about country life.
‘Sorry, I shouldn’t bore you. Come on, I’ll show you where this path goes and I promise no more lectures.’
‘You weren’t lecturing.’ Hope hurried after him along the narrow path, pulling her skirts in to avoid thistles. They came to a fence which must mark the beginning of the Mackenzies’ farm. A Hessian sack had been fastened over the barbed wire to make it easier to climb. At least, it was easier for Robbie with his long legs and old jeans. Hope looked down doubtfully at her crushed velvet skirt with lace petticoat peeping beneath. It really wasn’t ideal for country walks.
‘I’m not sure …’
‘Gather all the loose fabric in one hand and step over. You’ll be fine, and if you’re not, I’ll catch you.’
Hope didn’t want to seem useless, so she did as instructed. It wasn’t easy, but somehow she managed to get over.
‘I really should look into finding some more practical clothes.’
‘No, don’t. I’ve never seen anyone wear things like you do. They’re amazing.’
‘Why … thanks.’ Hope was unreasonably pleased. She thought he had hardly noticed her, never mind the clothes she wore. ‘I make most of them myself. At first it was just to save money, but then I found I really loved it.’ She stopped. He wouldn’t be interested in that.
Robbie smiled across at her. They were now in a field and there was room for them to walk side by side.
‘Didn’t Susie Ashbury say something about you having your own fabric shop? That must have been fun.’
Hope waited for the familiar cloud of despair to descend. It did, but this time it wasn’t quite so bad. Maybe Susie was right: putting some distance between herself and the disaster was helping.
‘It had to close down,’ she said softly. ‘I loved that place and I thought we could make something of it, but … it didn’t work out.’
‘What happened?’ Robbie seemed genuinely interested, sympathetic rather than judgemental.
‘I made a mistake with the business partner I chose.’ She swallowed, hoping this wasn’t going to make her cry. It was still so hard to talk about what had gone wrong. ‘A big mistake. Amy and I were at college together and she was fun, a little crazy but with so many fantastic ideas, I thought we would be an ideal partnership. I was the more down to earth one and she was …’ Hope thought of the pleasure they had had in the first months of their new business. She had been desperate to keep herself busy, still reeling from the loss of her mother a year earlier. Amy had insisted they ‘think big’ and take on larger premises and more stock than Hope had wanted. But there was no one else to advise them and at first things seemed to go well. Maybe it would have continued to do so, if Amy hadn’t let her down.
‘She was?’ prompted Robbie.
Hope stopped suddenly, the grass brushing her bare legs and the breeze blowing through her hair. She took a deep breath. It was the first time she had said this out loud. ‘She was a liar and a crook.’ And then as soon as she said it she felt bad. ‘I don’t think she meant to behave like she did, maybe she didn’t even see it as dishonesty …’
It had started with Amy taking stock out of the business for her own use and not paying. Hope had suspected this but hadn’t known how to challenge her friend. Then it had moved on to her selling stock privately and keeping the money for herself. Hope had only found out about this later. And then, worst of all, Amy had emptied the till, taken what was left in the joint bank account, and simply disappeared.
‘I was left with nothing,’ Hope said slowly, shaking her head as she remembered the shock of finding no money at all, and no Amy. ‘I should have suspected, but I didn’t.’
Robbie pulled her into a hug. ‘Don’t look like that. You’re not responsible for someone else’s dishonesty.’
It felt good to be held by him, even though Hope was unable to believe his words. ‘I should have known,’ she said. ‘I put half the money my mother left me into that business. I should have been more careful.’
And it wasn’t just her dream she had lost, she had also let down so many other people. The accountant was still trying to work out how much money was owed.
‘You poor thing,’ said Robbie, giving her another hug and keeping hold of her hand as they began to walk on. ‘It must have been awful. So you came up here to make a new start?’
‘I came up here because Aunt Susie suggested it. She seemed to think it was a good idea. And I didn’t know what else to do.’
‘Well I for one am very glad you came.’
Hope blushed. She extricated her hand from his as they entered the farm yard. All the same, his words brought a warm, happy feeling to her she hadn’t known for a long time.
The visit to Holm Farm was fun, and not just because of that walk through the fields with Robbie. It was a chance to get to know his exuberant mother a little better and to meet his brother and father.
His father was a taciturn man with greying ginger hair who only popped in for a short while. His brother, Luke, was a shorter, stockier version of Robbie. He came in as they were drinking their coffee and began raiding the cake tins.
‘You see what I have to put up with?’ said Maria Mackenzie happily. ‘No matter how often I bake, those tins never seem to stay full.’
‘You shouldn’t make such delicious things, then we wouldn’t be forced to eat them,’ said Robbie, helping himself to a second scone.
‘I don’t see anyone forcing you.’
‘We need to keep our strength up,’ said Luke, spreading butter lavishly over a slice of fruit loaf. ‘You wouldn’t want us to fade away.’
Maria looked fondly at both her boys. Hope wondered what it was like to be part of such a busy, happy family.
She smiled to herself all the way home. They were so funny, with their teasing and their plans, but what she liked most of all was their obvious affection for each other. She hoped she would see more of the Mackenzies during her stay.
Chapter Seven
Hope’s life was settling down into a routine. She rose early each day, let Lucy out into the garden, and helped M
r Jackson to the bathroom. Then she made tea for them both and they waited for the first visit from the district nurse. After that came breakfast and any cleaning chores she could manage to do without Mr Jackson being aware of them. He didn’t see why she should do any of them when he had a cleaner coming in twice a week, but Hope felt she needed to earn her pay.
Susie had thought she would be good company for Mr Jackson, but he liked to keep to himself. He had enough talking with all the visitors who called by, he didn’t need any more jollying along from Hope.
She could see that he was finding it very tiring being home from hospital. She was rather pleased with herself for managing to persuade him to take a rest each afternoon.
‘I don’t need to rest; ridiculous idea,’ he had said after the first couple of days.
‘I know you don’t need to. But if I told people that you had a little lie down every day after lunch, maybe that would stop them calling in to see you?’
He eyed her thoughtfully. His face was more gaunt than ever. He really did need to rest. She was sure he wasn’t sleeping well, but he wouldn’t admit it. ‘That’s no’ a bad idea,’ he said at last. ‘Folk in this village would kill you with kindness.’
And so it was agreed she would fend off visitors in the afternoons. Mr Jackson retired to his room to lie on the bed.
One afternoon at the end of the second week, she found herself at a loose end. The evening meal was already prepared. She didn’t like to leave the house in case Mr Jackson woke. And then the phone rang. It was Tommy Grainger, the accountant in charge of liquidating Material Things.
Hope’s good mood evaporated. Tommy was a nice enough man, always pleasant when Hope had dealings with him, but he was in charge of winding up her lovely business. Every time she spoke to him she was reminded of her failure, and that it didn’t just affect her but all those people she owed money to as well. Perhaps he had finally worked out what all the debts of the partnership were.
At first he chatted about the weather and asked how she was enjoying Scotland, but this just made her more tense. She was glad when he turned to business matters.
‘I think we’ve managed to wind everything up now. I’m fairly confident I have got hold of all the outstanding paperwork.’
‘That’s good.’ Hope held her breath, waiting to hear how bad the situation was.
He named an amount that was large, but actually not as bad as she had feared. ‘That’s the total of your creditors. Now, I can try to come to a voluntary arrangement with them, but I fear we may have to formally liquidate the partnership. That way they take any assets that are left but can’t touch anything that belongs to you – or Miss Amy Jones, if she ever reappears. It’s lucky you set up a limited liability partnership.’
Hope took his word for that; she didn’t really understand these things. ‘So there will definitely be people whose bills won’t be paid?’
‘I’m afraid so. Also, if the business is liquidated, it will make it difficult for you to ever start a business again, which is something you might want to consider.’
‘I’m not thinking of starting a business again,’ said Hope with a wry smile. ‘But I’m not prepared to have all those people who supplied us and supported us go without their money. I can afford the amount you said. I’ll pay them myself.’
‘But you can’t do that!’ The man sounded horrified. ‘The whole point of limited liability is that you don’t have to lose everything you have. Really, Hope, I wouldn’t advise this …’
‘I won’t lose everything,’ said Hope brightly. She would be left with a few thousand pounds, which was more than many people had, wasn’t it? Tommy Grainger tried to talk her out of it, but she insisted.
When the conversation ended, she felt unreasonably cheered. She had made the right decision, of that she was sure.
She went up to her room, leaving the door open in case Mr Jackson called, and almost without thinking she lifted her sewing machine onto the table and took off its case. She ran her hand over the creamy surface and realised it was dusty. That needed seeing to. The machine had been her twenty-first birthday present, not long before her mother died. It was a little gem. It didn’t deserve to be neglected.
After she had polished it, she pulled out the material samples that had lain in the bottom of her suitcase. She certainly wasn’t short of material. All the unsold roll-ends from the shop had fallen to her. Most of them were still in storage in Brighton but despite everything she hadn’t been able to travel without a few bits and pieces.
She fingered the pale blue ruched cotton. It wasn’t something she was likely to wear herself but it would make a lovely dress for Susie’s six-year-old granddaughter Megan. She hadn’t been able to do much for Susie, to thank her for all her help. She began to page through her book of patterns. She could make a start now and do a proper fitting when she next saw the child.
Within minutes she was lost to the world. It was so wonderful! Should she do a high bodice or a low waist? Long sleeves or short? A little broderie anglaise fitted in at the neck would be perfect for a little girl who loved pretty things. This was such fun!
The next afternoon she intended to get straight back to her sewing, but was disturbed by Susie herself. Her godmother phoned just before lunch to see if Hope wanted to go for a walk.
Hope wondered why. Susie didn’t normally go for walks.
‘Aren’t Sarah and the children with you?’ she asked as they set out.
‘No. They’ve gone to spend the day with a school-friend of Sarah’s. It’ll be a nice change for them and I thought it would give me a chance to see you. I feel I’ve been neglecting you since they arrived.’
‘Of course you haven’t! It’s been fun to meet Sarah again, but mostly I’ve been busy with Mr Jackson. He’s not hard work but I don’t like to leave him too long.’ Hope worried he would try to do too much if she wasn’t there to stop him.
‘We’re not going far. I just wanted to show you Cleughbrae … and here we are.’
They had once again followed the winding road away from the village and had now come to a stop at the head of the dark track Susie had pointed out a couple of weeks before. Hope had considered going to look at the house herself, but something held her back.
‘Why do you want to show me?’
‘Aren’t you interested?’
‘Well, yes.’ Hope was also uneasy. Susie seemed so serious, unlike her normal self.
She turned and led the way down beneath the trees. It was quieter here and smelt of damp soil and leaves. Despite the warm summer, nothing seemed to have dried out.
The track sloped towards the river, veering to the right. It became rougher. Water rivulets had cut their way through the soil and no one had bothered to make repairs. Susie’s silence was beginning to weigh on Hope.
Eventually they emerged into a small clearing with a tumbledown red-sandstone cottage in the centre. The grass around it had been roughly cut and there were curtains at the windows, so Hope presumed the place was lived in, yet it had a forlorn air, as though unloved. She looked at it for a long time.
‘It’s, er, not what I expected,’ she said at last. She really couldn’t picture her neat and tidy mother growing up here.
‘It didn’t used to be like this,’ said Susie, peering around. ‘The local estate bought it when your grandmother died and they’ve been using it to house various workers. No one seems to stay here long. They don’t seem to have taken much care of it.’
They began to walk around.
‘Is there anyone in now?’ said Hope. ‘Will they mind us being so nosy?’
‘The family who were here moved out last month. No one will mind. It’s a pity I didn’t ask for the key, actually, and you could have had a look inside.’
Hope wasn’t sure she would have wanted to look inside. The place was depressing. On the northern side the stone was stained green. The windows were unwashed and paint was peeling from the frames. It was small. When they peered through the window
s, the rooms looked cramped. With the trees gathering so close around it would be dark inside, and almost certainly damp.
‘I can’t picture my mum here,’ she said.
‘It was different then,’ said Susie. ‘They used to have hens around the back here. And a vegetable garden, yes, look, you can see where it was. Your grandfather was a keen gardener.’
‘He was?’ Hope peered at the faint evidence of raised beds at the side of the house, now covered in grass and weeds. She tried to picture her mother here, an adopted child of elderly parents, and failed.
‘Yes. He was a lovely man, your grandfather. He never quite recovered from what happened to him in the war, the Second World War, you know? He was missing, presumed dead for many years. It turned out he was in a prisoner of war camp. That was a difficult time for your grandmother. Did you know they were engaged when he went off to the war? When she thought she’d lost him she moved to Glasgow to do war work there.’
‘That must have been awful.’ Hope had never heard any of this. She looked around at the funny little house once again, beginning to feel a connection. This was where her family had lived – except, of course, that it wasn’t. Her mother was adopted, so there was no blood connection.
‘Yes, it must have been a very difficult time for Jane.’
‘Jane?’
‘Jane Elspeth Calvert, nee Irving. Your grandmother. Your mother was named for her.’
Hope frowned. This didn’t seem right. ‘But how could that be? I thought Mum was adopted when she was three. Did they change her name then? That would be so confusing for a child …’
‘No, they didn’t change her name. She had always been Elspeth.’ Susie sighed. ‘I wanted your mother to tell you but she didn’t, did she?’
‘No. Tell me what?’ Even as Hope asked the question, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Susie took a deep breath. ‘Your mother wasn’t adopted at all. At least she was, officially, but Jane and Joseph were also her biological parents.’
‘They were … what?’ Hope’s words sounded faint even to her. What had Susie said? It didn’t make sense.
Family Matters Page 4
