‘OK, I’ll go back for a while. But I’ll leave the phone beside you here, and I’ll keep checking my mobile. Call me at once if you need me.’
‘I’m going to sleep,’ said Mr Jackson firmly, removing his hearing aid. ‘Put the light out. You can pop Lucy in here before you go.’ His voice softened, as always, when he spoke of his dog. Hope took the old girl for a wander around the garden and then slipped her back into her master’s bedroom.
She walked slowly back up the hill to the village hall. There were no street lights out here but the faint moonlight was enough to see by. She didn’t feel at all nervous walking alone in the near-darkness. There was something about St Ann’s Bridge that felt safe. Not always happy, but safe.
She could hear the music long before she reached the hall. Lively tunes she didn’t recognise lilting across the quiet night. She quickened her step. It sounded like they were having fun in there.
The hall was a different place from the one Hope had left an hour or so earlier. The lights had been dimmed and tables moved back to clear a large space for dancing. And a large space was needed! More than half the guests seemed to be on their feet, ranging from toddlers to sprightly pensioners. Hope slipped into a seat where she guessed the Ashburys had been sitting – all of them were currently on the floor – and settled down to watch.
The dancing was great fun. It reminded Hope of barn dances she had been to at college. There was a definite structure to the dances and most people seemed to have some idea of what they were supposed to be doing. If they made mistakes, it didn’t seem to matter. These were treated with good natured howls of laughter.
Hope enjoyed watching. A man on the stage announced the dance and gave instructions on the number of people in a set. Then he made them walk through the dance without music. Then they went through it again with the music, the man still calling out instructions. After that people were left to do their best, until the next dance began.
On the stage were three men; the tall thin one calling the dances, one at the back on drums, and Robbie Mackenzie with his violin. He was amazing. He seemed totally engrossed in the music, communing with his instrument, and playing the most amazing jigs and reels that had Hope tapping her feet. She noticed Maria watching her son with pride and relief on her face, and applauding loudly at each change of dance. Hope applauded too. She wondered why Robbie’s father wasn’t looking more pleased.
When the caller announced the next dance would be a ‘Dashing White Sergeant’ Sarah appeared at Hope’s side.
‘Come on, we need you.’ She took her hand and pulled her to her feet.
‘But I don’t know how to do it.’
‘Never mind, it’s easy. And you have to dance in threes so come and join Steven and me.’
Hope allowed herself to be towed along. She really wasn’t sure she could do this. She didn’t even understand half the words the man on the stage called out. What did it mean, set to your partner?
‘Just copy what we do,’ said Sarah. ‘And don’t worry if you make a mistake: so does everyone else!’
‘You’ll be fine,’ said Steven cheerfully.
And Hope discovered, after a tentative start, that she was. The pattern of the dance was repeated over and over again, so once she got the hang of it she didn’t have to work so hard at remembering. She could just enjoy the clapping of hands and stamping of feet, the twirling of the other dancers as they linked arms, and the fun of running through the archway of hands and joining up with another threesome.
After that, the only time Hope stopped dancing was when she went to check her mobile in case Mr Jackson had called, or when she needed a drink. She was having such fun. It was a shame Robbie was up on the stage and not down here dancing with her, but even that had its positive side. It was wonderful to see him playing, relaxing into the rhythm, his kilt swinging as he tapped his foot. Previously Hope had thought he looked very un-Scottish, with his dark colouring, but this evening he seemed the embodiment of the country, with his tartan and his music.
‘Right, we’re taking a break,’ said the thin man who had been giving instructions. ‘I believe the cake is going to be cut, then the bride and groom will take their leave. After that, if anyone wants to dance a wee bit more, we’ll be back on stage.’
Hope made her way to where the Ashburys were sitting. She watched Robbie exchange a couple of jokes with the other band members and then jump down from the stage. She thought he would go back to his family, but he didn’t. This time he came over to her.
‘You were brilliant,’ Hope said, as she pulled out a chair for him. ‘I didn’t realise you could play the violin, at least I did, but not like that.’ She felt this evening had revealed a whole new side to him.
Robbie held out one hand towards her and she saw it was trembling. ‘I didn’t know I could play like that, either,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘And I’m not sure I can do it again, if they want us to play another set. Phew! That was hard work.’
‘But amazing. I loved it,’ said Hope. She wanted to keep him to herself, but already the Ashburys were leaning in, offering their own congratulations.
‘Excellent music,’ said Simon.
‘What happened to the usual fiddler?’ asked Susie. ‘You don’t normally play with them, do you?’
Robbie began to explain how one guy had fallen ill and he had been drafted in as a last-minute replacement. Steven came back from the bar with a tray of glasses and handed Robbie a pint.
Hope sat back with a glass of orange juice, enjoying the banter.
They fell quiet whilst the cake was cut and pictures taken of Luke and Clare, still looking blissfully happy. Then the couple slipped away to change, and Robbie pushed the thick hair back from his forehead and said, ‘It’s hot in here. I think I’ll take the chance to go outside and cool down.’ He hesitated and then said more softly to Hope, ‘Do you want to come and keep me company?’
Wishing she didn’t blush so easily, Hope nodded. ‘That would be nice. I’m pretty hot myself, from all the dancing.’
She saw Susie smile approvingly as they stood up to leave. She wondered what on earth her godmother was thinking. They were far too old and sensible to be slipping outside for an illicit kiss. They were just good friends, and it was kind of Robbie to invite her.
It was completely dark outside, once you moved outwith the circle of the hall lights. The soft breeze brought with it the scent of autumn, leaves newly fallen, a heavy dew. Hope looked up at the sky and saw so many stars it was as though someone had scattered sand up there.
‘The Milky Way,’ said Robbie, seeing where she looked. ‘It’s not often so clear.’
‘I didn’t see the stars much when I lived down south.’
‘You don’t when you live in the city. Too much man-made light. That’s why I love it out here.’
‘A lot of people would feel nervous, with so much darkness.’
‘Do you?’
‘No.’
They were silent for a while. Robbie had taken her hand to lead her to a bench at the back of the hall, facing out across the fields.
‘What will you do when Mr Jackson is fully recovered?’ he asked. ‘Go back down south?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Hope, shifting uneasily. ‘I wish everyone wouldn’t keep asking me that.’
‘Sorry. It’s just …’ He paused and she felt him turn towards her. ‘I’d like to ask you out, for a drink or a meal. But I don’t know if you’re going away soon. Or if there is someone waiting for you back there.’
Hope could feel her heart begin to thud. ‘There’s no one waiting for me.’
‘So we could go out sometime, if you’re not disappearing just yet?’
‘I’d like that.’
‘Good.’ He stroked her hand with warm fingers.
Hope was usually so cautious with men, never feeling quite at ease with them, but sitting here with Robbie seemed right.
And then there was a shout from around the side of the buildi
ng. ‘Hey, Robbie, where are you? We’re about to start again.’
‘I suppose we’d better go in,’ said Robbie with a sigh. He pulled her to her feet and they walked back towards the lights of the entrance. Hope freed her hand.
As they rounded the corner, Hope saw there was quite a crowd of people, mostly young women, gathered by the steps. Then she realised why.
Clare and Luke were standing on the top step, dressed smartly in their ‘going away’ clothes, and Clare held her bouquet in one hand.
‘Do you want me to throw it?’ she was saying teasingly to the women.
‘Throw it!’
‘Hurry up!’
‘To me!’
The calls came from all over, young and old giggling and trying to attract Clare’s attention. Hope hung back, amused. She’d seen this happen in films, but never in real life.
‘You have to turn your back on them,’ said Luke, turning his new wife with the arm not holding his crutch. ‘OK. One, two, three, throw!’
Clare made a valiant attempt to toss the bouquet of roses and lilies into the crowd behind her, but either she had a very poor aim, or she had been confused by being swung around.
Instead of going straight, the bouquet spun off to Clare’s right, missing the gathering of laughing people completely, and sailing out towards Hope and Robbie.
Hope instinctively took a step backwards, not wanting to be hit, but Robbie stuck out a hand and caught the flowers by the neatly wrapped stems.
This feat was met with cheers and catcalls.
‘Your turn next, brother,’ shouted Luke, grinning from ear to ear.
‘Now why on earth did I do that?’ muttered Robbie, trying to hand the bouquet to Hope, who hid her arms behind her back. ‘You take it. I can’t walk inside with a bunch of flowers.’
‘No way,’ said Hope firmly.
Chapter Fifteen
Susie was very pleased with the way the wedding had gone. It was heart-warming to see the community enjoy themselves together. Only John Mackenzie had looked a little glum during the speeches, but even he had cheered up in the end.
Now Susie felt she needed to turn her attention back to Hope.
‘We need to find Hope another job,’ she said to Simon as they enjoyed their first cup of tea of the day.
‘Hope needs to find herself another job, or decide what she wants to do next,’ said Simon. ‘It’s nothing to do with you.’
‘Of course it is,’ said Susie, refusing to be depressed by his tone. ‘I love helping people out. Steven would have been so much better off if he’d taken my advice about moving back to Scotland. I haven’t given up on that yet, but I’m leaving him be for the moment.’
‘If you ever persuade Steven to do something he doesn’t want to do, I’ll be surprised.’ Simon even managed at small smile at the thought.
‘That’s the point. You’ve got to make people think they want it, then they do the right thing.’
‘Susie, far better to let people run their own lives.’
‘I only interfere if it’s needed,’ said Susie happily. ‘And my feelings about Robbie Mackenzie and Hope are proving right. Did you see them holding hands at the end of the dance? I just need to make sure Hope stays around long enough for them to realise it’s serious.’
‘If Robbie and Hope are meant for each other, they’ll sort things out themselves. People can travel, you know.’
‘Mmm,’ said Susie. ‘You wouldn’t mind if she moved back in here with us, would you?’
‘Of course not. But only if that is what she wants.’
‘She could easily make enough money for her everyday expenses by taking in sewing. She’s got a real talent as a dressmaker. That would mean she would be all right financially, but I’ve a feeling she wouldn’t want to be beholden to us for accommodation.’
‘She needs to get the liquidation of the shop sorted out. Once that’s wound up, she can move on.’
‘That’s true. I think I need to talk to her about that.’
‘And don’t push her too hard,’ said Simon. ‘She strikes me as the sort of girl who likes to make up her own mind about things.’
Susie shook her head. ‘She needs to accept who her family are: that’s important too.’
‘Why is it so important she knows about Elspeth’s family? What about her dad’s family?’
‘There was nothing complicated there, nothing hidden. Elspeth was always happy to talk to Hope about them. We need her to be as at ease about her mother’s side.’
Simon looked doubtful, but there was no time for further discussion now. She could hear the grandchildren running around downstairs and, as this was the last day of their visit, she intended to make the most of it.
Robbie’s father wasn’t speaking to him. He didn’t know what he’d done to make things worse than usual, but he must have done something. The silent treatment was only reserved for the very worst occasions.
He put up with it all the first day after Luke and Clare’s departure, but by late afternoon on the Monday he had had enough. He found his mother alone in the kitchen and asked her outright, ‘What’s wrong with Dad? What have I done now?’
His mother looked around cautiously, to see if they were alone. ‘Well, it’s not so much what you have done.’
‘Huh?’ Robbie pulled out a chair and sprawled back into it. He wished his mum would look at him, but she was busying herself with the pots and pans on the Rayburn. ‘What on earth have I not done? I thought he would at least be pleased I helped out with the ceilidh band.’
‘You were brilliant,’ said his mother, flashing a smile at him over her shoulder.
‘Dad obviously didn’t think so. What’s got in to him?’
His mother gave a long sigh. She put aside the spoon she was holding and came to sit down beside him. ‘It was your speech.’
‘My speech?’ Robbie thought he had done pretty well there. And he couldn’t recall saying anything untoward about his father. ‘But I never mentioned him in my speech.’
‘Exactly. That’s the problem. You had jokes and thanks and I don’t know what for everyone from Gran to me to Luke, even Clare’s sister, but you never said a word about your father.’
Robbie stared at her. She was right. When he thought back over his words, he hadn’t made a single reference to his father. It hadn’t been intentional. It just hadn’t occurred to him. ‘But …’
‘He’s hurt,’ said his mother gently. ‘Luke managed to mention him once or twice, to thank him, but even he didn’t say much. You said nothing at all.’
‘I didn’t do it on purpose,’ said Robbie. Goodness, who would ever have thought his father could be hurt, and by something like this?
‘Does your father mean so little to you, you don’t even think about whether you mention him or not?’ His mother’s expression was serious, unusual for her. ‘Over the last few years I’ve tried not to interfere between you boys and your dad. I thought it was up to you to sort out whatever needed to be sorted out. But you just don’t see it, do you? Your father loves you and it hurts him when you are so cold and distant.’
‘I’m cold and distant?’ Robbie was having difficulty taking all this in. ‘I’m the one at fault?’
‘You’re not the only one at fault, but you are at fault.’
‘Why don’t you say something to Dad about the way he is? About the constant criticism, the harping on about the least mistake?’
‘As I said, I thought you should try and sort things out between you. It’s not up to me to act as some kind of link. He and Luke have found a way of getting on. But you and he never did see eye to eye. You’re too alike. But you’re both grown men; do you really think it’s my job to sort things out between you?’
Robbie just looked at her. She seemed very upset. Not her usual shouting and excitable upset, but a deep-down sadness.
‘I just thought he didn’t really care,’ he said after a long silence.
‘Oh, yes, he cares.’
‘Then why doesn’t he show it?’ Robbie ran his fingers through his hair, frustrated and confused.
‘Why don’t you?’ said his mother in return. ‘Why don’t you make an effort? See if he wants to go out for a pint with you?’
‘But what would we talk about?’ said Robbie, appalled.
‘You could tell him about your work as a countryside ranger. Or ask his advice about how to get the farmers to co-operate with you. Or talk about your music, your friends. It doesn’t all have to be arguments about the farm.’
Robbie wasn’t sure it was possible to talk about anything else with his father. He wasn’t at all convinced his mother’s interpretation of the situation was the right one. But she looked so unhappy, and he hated to see that. Maybe he should give it a try.
After a long pause he said, ‘OK, I’ll suggest we go out, say after tea tonight. Do you really think he would come?’
‘Not tonight. It’s the village bowling on a Monday. Maybe tomorrow?’
‘I’ll, er, do my best,’ said Robbie. He was relieved he had at least one day’s respite. An evening out with his father? Goodness, he couldn’t think of many things he’d rather avoid more.
‘And don’t, whatever you do, say it was my idea,’ said his mother, rising to her feet to check once more on her cooking.
He heard his father’s footsteps in the back kitchen, so he couldn’t respond to that.
Hope was on her way to the Ashburys’. Susie had phoned and invited her for afternoon tea, saying she had found the photographs she had promised to show her. Hope was still torn between anger at the secrets that had been kept from her, and an increasing desire to know more about this strange family of hers.
‘How’s Mr Jackson?’ asked Susie cheerfully as she ushered Hope inside. ‘I think he really enjoyed the wedding, don’t you? It did him the world of good to get out.’
‘He did enjoy it, but it tired him. He’s lying down at the moment and I had real problems getting him to do his exercises today. He said his leg was sore. I wonder if I should call the doctor?’
‘He never was keen on those exercises; I wouldn’t worry. If he’s still not right in a couple of days you can think again.’
Family Matters Page 9
