Moorland Mist

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘That would be a big help. We could beat for ever and still the dust comes out, or so it seems. Anyway, we have plenty to keep us busy if we are to wash and polish all this furniture before we bring it in again. Mother suggested we leave churning the butter until tomorrow.’

  ‘We shall need to bake bread tomorrow,’ Emma reminded her.

  ‘So we shall, I’d forgotten. You know, Emma, you will soon be able to run this house as well as I can.’ Maggie smiled again.

  ‘I only know what you’ve taught me, Maggie. Mother says I’ve been lucky to have you to show me what to do.’

  She was down on her hands and knees, scrubbing the floor when Jim and William came to take the carpet out to the orchard.

  ‘You’re only just in time.’ She grinned saucily up at them. ‘One more strip of floor to scrub and I shall be up to the carpet.’

  ‘Cheeky young minx,’ William teased. ‘I reckon we should give you a beating along with the carpet.’ These days they treated her as her own brothers did and she no longer felt shy in their presence.

  ‘It would take a real man to try that!’ she quipped, holding up the wet floor cloth as a threat if William dared to come closer.

  ‘Now then, you two,’ Jim cautioned. He lowered his voice but his eyes were sparkling. ‘Here’s Mother coming with her chamber pot. You’d better behave or she might empty it on the pair of you.’

  After dinner, James Sinclair suggested Jim should take a turn with the plough to give him a rest so it was Emma and William who ended up beating the carpet. It was not often it was just the two of them but William chatted pleasantly as he wielded the cane beater.

  ‘When will the first lambs be born?’ Emma asked. He grinned at her.

  ‘You love the lambs, don’t you, young Emmie? They’ll be starting any day now. I was up on the hill gathering up the stragglers yesterday. You’d love it up there. All the world seems to be spread out before you. You can see for miles on a clear day. It’s so quiet and peaceful with only the birds and a fox or two, and the rabbits of course.’

  ‘I think Mistress Sinclair would have something to say if I went wandering off to explore the hilltops.’ Emma smiled. ‘But it sounds wonderful.’

  ‘It is. You’ll have to come with me sometime when it’s your day off. Would you like to do that, Emmie?’ It always gave her a warm feeling when any of them called her Emmie instead of Emma, and William often used the name these days.

  ‘I’d love to explore and stand on the very tops of the hills and look down on everything,’ she said as eagerly as a child.

  ‘Then we’ll do it sometime when you have a day off and I’m doing the shepherding up there.’

  The lambing started and ended. The turnips were sown and hoed and hay gathered for another summer but William never mentioned taking her to the top of the hills and Emma felt disappointed, thinking he had forgotten.

  Later she would learn that William rarely forgot anything – good or bad. Bonnybrae had one field of oats to harvest every year, and Maggie and Emma were always called upon to help with stoking the sheaves.

  ‘Maybe when these are all gathered in we’ll take that walk to the top of Bonnybrae.’ William grinned as he worked beside Emma. ‘Or have you changed your mind about walking so far?’

  ‘Of course not. It can’t be any further than walking home to Locheagle.’

  ‘It’s not as far but it’s a lot steeper, especially when you get near the top.’

  ‘Are you trying to put me off, William Sinclair?’ Emma demanded primly. ‘Maybe you’re afraid I shall climb up the hills quicker than you.’

  ‘What? With legs scarcely bigger than matchsticks?’ William teased.

  He broke off as his father moved into the row next to theirs. Although she had learned to regard Jim and William as surrogate brothers, teasing when they teased her, scowling at them when they scolded without good reason, she was always in awe of Mr Sinclair. He gave her praise occasionally when she had done a good job, or a kindness for his wife, but he always seemed stern. Of all the family she was most at ease with Maggie. She was always patient and kind and she had taught her to do things she had never dreamed she could manage.

  The September days were getting shorter when William came into the dairy where Emma was singing ‘Bringing in the Sheaves’ as she churned the butter.

  ‘It’s the last day of the month tomorrow. Is it your day off, Emmie?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’

  ‘How about that walk up the hill if the weather is dry? Do you still want to come?’

  ‘Yes, I’d love to, if the views are as magnificent as you promised.’

  ‘Well, I think they’re worth the effort, but you can please yourself. I shall be gathering up the ewes and lambs anyway.’

  ‘Ah I see, you’re just wanting me to help!’ she teased. ‘All right, I’ll come then. When and where?’

  ‘I’ll meet you where the track branches. If you change your mind, you can continue down to Locheagle to see your folks but if you want to come with me, we’ll follow the burn up from there to the bottom of the hill land.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ Emma said firmly. She vowed she would not slow him down and maybe she could even help him round up the sheep. She lifted the ridged wooden hands and began to work the butter, humming happily as she worked the water out and fashioned the blocks as Maggie had shown her. It never occurred to her that her parents might object to her going into the hills alone with the son of her employer. He was just another young man like her brothers.

  Three

  Maggie always gave Emma a few provisions to take to her parents on her day off and she had left them in a carrier on the kitchen table. Afterwards, Emma wondered why she had not mentioned to Maggie that she was going with William but she expected she would have time to go home for a short visit when she returned from the hill. She lifted the bag and peered inside. There was a loaf of bread, a bottle of fresh milk, a piece of boiled ham and a pat of butter. Maybe they could have some of it for a picnic high on the hilltop, she thought, with all the eagerness of a child.

  ‘What’s that you’ve got?’ William asked with a smile when he saw her walking towards him. He was leaning against the fence, wondering whether Emma would have changed her mind and he was surprised how pleased he felt when he saw her. He enjoyed her company and the banter they shared. Now that she was used to him and Jim, they had discovered she had a ready wit and a fine sense of humour, something, he realized, his mother did not possess and did not encourage. His spirits rose.

  ‘Maggie left these for me to take to Mother.’ She blushed rosily. ‘I–I suppose I should have told her I wasna going home yet. I–I wondered if we might eat some of it for a picnic if there’s time?’ she said diffidently.

  ‘We’ll make time,’ William promised with a grin as they began their walk. ‘I picked four apples from the orchard as I came by. I thought we might get a bit hungry before tea-time, but that will be even better.’ He took the apples from his pockets and slipped them into the paper carrier, then took it from her. ‘I’ll carry this. It’s a glorious autumn day. I’ll cut you a good stout stick like mine when we reach the clump of hazel by the burn. It will help when the going gets steep. We should get a good view today. We might even see the Clyde in the distance if we get to the top of Muckle Torr on the neighbouring hill.’

  ‘Where’s Mick? Isn’t he coming to help round up the sheep?’

  ‘He got a thorn in his paw and it’s festered a bit.’ William frowned. ‘I don’t want him to make it worse.’ Emma knew he thought a lot of his dogs. ‘Queenie will have to manage today. She’s young but she’s coming along nicely. I’d have brought Misty but she’s getting old for a long run.’ Queenie wagged her tail at the sound of her name and Emma bent to pat her. ‘Right then, Emma Greig, this will be your first lesson in shepherding. You’ve had a go at nearly everything else since you came to Bonnybrae.’

  ‘I haven’t tried ploughing and I can’t harness the Clydesdales,’ Emma
said. ‘They’re so big. I can harness the pony to the trap now though, and Maggie let me drive him home the last time we went to the village.’

  True to his word, William took out his knife and selected a stick for her with a small knob at one end, which he shaped for her small hand to grasp. After a while they crossed the burn and left the lower fields behind. The ground grew rougher as they climbed. There were marshy patches and sometimes little shelves where bare rock jutted out of the hillside.

  ‘I love the little patches of wild flowers sheltering in the crevices,’ Emma said with delight, ‘and the heather is beginning to bloom.’

  Her pleasure and enthusiasm pleased William but he didn’t forget they were there to shepherd and as they climbed towards the peak, he stopped a couple of times to take a closer look at a lame sheep, and one which he saw was infected around her tail with maggots from the blow flies.

  ‘We must take a closer look at that tomorrow when we get them gathered. We’ll start at the top and Queenie will help us bring them down.’

  Emma was young and fit but William had longer legs and he was used to walking up the hills. Mr Sinclair had insisted that all his sons should be able to do every job there was to do on Bonnybrae, from milking to ploughing, and shepherding to killing and plucking a goose or curing a pig.

  ‘I think we’ll have something to eat in the shelter of the boundary wall,’ William suggested. ‘If you still have enough energy, we’ll climb to the top of the Torr before we start gathering the sheep.’ He knew his father would not approve of him wasting time going higher to get a better view but he was enjoying the fine day and Emma’s cheerful company.

  ‘I’d love to go to the top now we’ve come this far,’ Emma said, ‘but I love the view from here. The cows in the Bonnybrae field look like toys, and the farms and the cottages across the glen look tiny tucked into the folds of the grassy slopes. I can even see the kirk in the village in the distance.’

  She turned slowly round in a circle, drinking in the sights and sounds. She gazed up into the sky as she watched a skylark soaring high above them and William admired the pale smooth column of her neck and smiled at her pleasure. She was like a child on an unexpected holiday. He was glad she shared his appreciation of the wild beauty of their native countryside.

  ‘It’s always a bit cooler when you get this high up,’ he said, choosing a sheltered knoll for their picnic.

  Queenie lay down obediently to wait for them to eat, looking up hopefully for a tit bit every now and then. They tore chunks of bread from the loaf and William wiped his knife on his clean handkerchief before cutting each of them a slice of ham and a knob of butter. He insisted Emma should have the first drink from the bottle of milk before he took a good swig himself. They sat propped against a smooth rocky slab munching their apples, then had a competition to see who could throw the core the furthest.

  ‘I never knew food could taste so wonderful,’ Emma sighed.

  ‘It’s the fresh air and the exercise,’ William grinned. ‘Now I’ll lift you over the wall and you can relieve yourself if you like before I join you.’ He laughed when Emma blushed. ‘Nobody would guess you have three brothers, Emma. I promise not to look.’

  He lifted her as though she was no more than a sheaf of straw and let her slide out of his arms on the other side of the wall. Shortly afterwards he joined her and they climbed higher still. It grew more hazy as they climbed higher. The sky seemed to be coming down to meet them.

  ‘I hope it’s not going to rain,’ Emma said. ‘It was so beautiful when we set out. I didn’t think it could change so quickly.’

  ‘I don’t think it will rain,’ William said slowly, standing still, looking all around. A small frown creased his brow. ‘But I hope the mist doesn’t come down. It can happen swiftly up here. Maybe we shouldn’t go any further today, Emma. I’m sorry. I know I promised to show you the river Clyde in the distance but maybe you’ll come with me another day, in the spring. I think this may be an autumn mist rolling down on us.’

  Emma was disappointed but they turned and began to make their way back down towards the Bonnybrae boundary.

  ‘I hope we manage to get most of the ewes and lambs gathered before the cloud thickens,’ William muttered anxiously.

  ‘Oh look! The peak of the Torr has disappeared already!’ Emma said, looking behind.

  ‘Aye, the mist is coming down right enough. We’d better get a move on. It will probably be clear down in the bottom.’ But the ground was rough and steep and it was not easy to hurry. Queenie kept running on ahead and then coming back as though to make sure they were still following. Emma noticed it didn’t take long for her to become invisible in the gathering gloom. It was hard to believe the sun could still be shining only a few hundred feet below them.

  ‘We shall be in terrible trouble if we don’t get the sheep gathered and down to the yard,’ Emma said.

  ‘Aye, Father will have some choice words to say.’ William grimaced, but a more worrying thought than the sheep had occurred to him. ‘Once, when I was about twelve,’ he said, ‘I came shepherding with him. It was about this time of year and the mist came down fast.’ His brows were knitted together and he was speaking slowly. Emma realized he was genuinely concerned now. She wished they hadn’t come further up into the hills so she could see the view.

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘We couldn’t find our way back. When the mist is thick you lose all sense of direction. Mountain mists are nearly as bad as a snow storm for that. We didn’t know whether we were going round in circles or east or west. In the end, we ended up further along the boundary wall instead of further down the hill. We settled down in a hollow to wait but I went to sleep, cuddling one of the dogs. Father stayed awake and when the wind came up the mist cleared but it was daybreak by then. I hope that’s not going to happen today.’

  In his heart he feared that was exactly what was happening and he wished he had never suggested bringing Emma. His father would be furious if he ever found out he had brought his mother’s maid up here on her own, and he worried what Emma’s parents would think.

  ‘I hope you’ll not be in trouble if we don’t get the sheep to the low pastures before evening. Your father will blame me.’ She chewed her lower lip. ‘It will be awful if he – he sacks me.’ Her voice wobbled.

  ‘Don’t worry, Emmie. It hasn’t come to that yet. I’ll see you back safely if I can. The sheep can wait for once. But it would be better if none of them miss you.’ He reached out and took her hand. His own was large and calloused, but Emma found it warm and comforting. ‘What time do you usually get back when you’ve been home, Emmie?’

  ‘Oh, anytime in the evening. It’s usually late evening in summer so I come through the orchard from the closet and in through the washhouse. I never disturb anybody with my room being off the kitchen. When it’s winter, Richard or Father always walk to the bottom of the Bonnybrae track with me.’

  ‘Aye, they take good care of you, your family.’

  ‘Richard says it’s because I’m a girl but Joe says I’m spoiled because I’m the youngest.’

  ‘Aye,’ he chuckled, ‘that’s what Bess and the others used to say to me, but Maggie always defended me. I think that’s our boundary wall we’re coming to,’ he added, peering through the swirling mist.

  ‘It’s really getting thick,’ Emma said anxiously.

  She had long since lost her awe of William and Jim but she never forgot they were the sons of her employer. Now, in the isolation of the thick damp mist, they were just two people lost on the hills. It was impossible to think the sun might be shining down below. She shivered.

  ‘At least we’ll be on home ground once we’re over the wall again, but I don’t think there’ll be any sheep gathered today.’ William paused and took out his silver-coloured pocket watch and clicked it open. ‘It’s half past two. We shall be lucky if this lifts before evening.’ He turned to lift Emma over the dyke and felt her trembling. ‘Are you cold, Emmie?’
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  ‘N-not really, but I’m afraid. I keep thinking I can see a sheep and it’s just a rock and Queenie keeps disappearing.’

  ‘She’ll not leave us. We’ll make our way home as fast as we can. We’ll head in the direction of the sheep fank.’

  ‘Is that the stone circle we passed on the way up?’

  ‘Aye, it gives the sheep a bit o’ protection in a snow storm. I know we’re heading towards home and not our neighbour’s place if we reach it.’

  Long before they reached the stone circle, the mist had closed in like a wet grey blanket. Queenie stayed close to them now. Emma had been wearing a thick shawl tied around her waist for ease of carrying it but she untied it and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders and chest. She was glad of her stick to prod the uneven ground. They seemed to have walked for a long time when William stopped and peered through the mist in every direction.

  ‘I can’t see a damned thing,’ he muttered.

  ‘We are going downhill, though,’ Emma said tentatively but she had no sooner spoken than a slight incline appeared before them. William clasped her hand in his again.

  ‘We’ll keep going for a wee while longer but I reckon we’ve missed the sheep fold.’ He bent and stroked Queenie’s head. ‘Home, girl,’ he urged. ‘Take us home …’ but the young collie refused to leave his side. She gazed up at him with trusting brown eyes. Emma had often heard tales of dogs refusing to leave their masters during snowstorms or after an accident and Queenie obviously intended to stay.

  Quarter of an hour later, William stopped again and peered around.

  ‘We don’t seem to be getting anywhere. If we’ve walked in a straight line, we should have reached the fence between the low pastures and the hill by now. We could be anywhere.’

  Emma sighed. She was tired and hungry. William looked down at her.

  ‘I’m sorry, Emmie. This is not how I meant it to be. I thought you would really enjoy being out on the hills and seeing Queenie working. It’s a marvellous sight to see the dogs gathering sheep. They’re so intelligent.’