Auld Acquaintance

by Ruth Hay

* * *

  It was impossible to know how much time had passed since the phone call.

  Anna had drifted in and out of a feverish dream state. She was standing in the wind, in the centre of McCaig’s Folly. Darkness surrounded her but the stars, glittering through the arches above her, were brilliant in a cloudless night. She was planning how the building would benefit the people of Oban by providing work for the town’s unemployed men. This would be a fine way to use the riches she had earned in business. But, wait.............she was not Anna Mason, it was McCaig himself who stood on the hilltop.

  Anna was on a much higher place planning another project; a scheme to bring someone from a distant country to live in Scotland. Anna could feel the keen mind checking over the complex steps in this scheme and wondering if it would succeed. Long silver hair blew across her face and she held a walking stick that was moulded to the shape of her hand from long use. Once again Anna understood she was not the woman on the hill.

  It was Helen Dunlop who stood there.

  The shock made Anna step away and she fell backwards off the hill, screaming through the icy air to her death.

  Before she hit the ground, she opened her eyes and gasped in fear. She was shaking from head to foot in terror and someone was in her kitchen.

  * * *

  “Here she is. Thank God. This place is like ice. The poor thing will freeze to death.

  Put the kettle on Alan and get a fire going. I’ll help the lassie up the stairs and get her into bed, then I’ll come down to see what else we can do.”

  Alan Matthews nodded and followed his mother’s instructions as quickly as possible.

  George McLennan’s phone call had prompted the two of them into instant action.

  A neighbour needed help and despite the lateness of the hour, Allan knew his elderly mother would follow the Highland traditions she lived by, and do whatever she could to help out.

  They had driven to the farm house at top speed, fearing what they might find. George had sounded very worried about Anna Mason on the phone.

  Everyone in Britain had been warned about the symptoms of swine flu. The newspapers and the television were full of stories about those who had contracted the disease, and words like ‘pandemic’ were being bandied about in what Alan’s mother considered to be a foolhardy manner.

  Now that he might be facing contamination himself, and had seen the current dire state of the handsome, confident woman he had met in this very kitchen not long ago, Allan was anxious to leave as soon as he could. If anything happened to him, the burden on his mother would mean the loss of their family farm.

  He was making a start on washing the dishes when his mother returned.

  “Good, Alan. The place is warming up already. I’ll make tea for all of us. We’ll need to keep Anna warm. She spoke for a wee bit. She is worried about Fiona and Dr. Moir.

  She says they were here last night for a meal and she wants to know if they are ill also.”

  “I can call them, mother, but it will have to wait until the morning. It’s too late to be disturbing people. What do you think is wrong with her? Is it swine flu?”

  “Dinna fash, Alan. I don’t ken what is the matter with the lassie yet, but she is strong.

  We’ll know more in the morn.”

  Alan finished the dishes while his mother rummaged around in the pantry. She returned holding aloft an earthenware bottle in triumph. “I was sure there would be one of these beauties in a house this old. When I was a girl no one went to bed without a jug like this wrapped in cloth at their feet.” She filled the sturdy bottle with boiling water and screwed the rubber and metal stopper firmly in place.

  “I’ll away up and put this in her bed. You make sure there’s enough wood and coal for the night and then get yourself to home, Alan. You’ll be up before the dawn with the cows and the sheep to see to. I’ll bide here with the lass and make porridge for her breakfast.”

  Alan Matthews knew Anna would be in safe hands with his mother in charge. She had always been the most capable woman he had ever known. Bringing up a family of six in a cottage was nothing to her. She had ruled the roost and kept farm and family up to scratch, never faltering until his father’s death five years before. Even then, she was back feeding chickens and hand-rearing orphan lambs before the year was out. She always said, “There’s nae use complaining about life. We’ll all be a lang time dead.”

  * * *

  Anna tried opening her eyes but there seemed to be a heavy weight on her lids.

  She managed to raise them a fraction and saw a white-haired woman in the room, holding a cup in her hand.

  “Mom, is that you?” Anna knew vaguely that her mother had been dead many years, but she was still disoriented enough to think her mother had come to her aid in her illness as she had done so often in Anna’s childhood.

  “No, lass, it’s Alan Matthews’ mother from the croft nearby. We came last night when you were so ill.”

  Anna tried to process this information but her head was full of wool or something and her thinking was not clear.

  “Alan’s mother, you say. Do I know your name?”

  “It’s Kirsty Matthews, my dear,” answered a gentle voice.

  “Kirsty? That’s an interesting name.”

  “Well now, it’s a name from the islands. My people came from Skye.”

  Kirsty placed her hand on Anna’s forehead to check her temperature.

  “That’s enough talking for now, dearie. I’ll help you sit up a for bit and drink this hot tea. Then we’ll see how you are.”

  Anna was happy to let herself be cared for. Truthfully, she thought she didn’t have the strength to resist this cheerful, round woman wearing a flowered apron over a dark sweater and skirt.

  When the tea had been sipped and no further sickness resulted, Anna was encouraged to attempt a bowl of porridge prepared by Kirsty.

  “I’ve stirred brown sugar in it because you are sick,” she explained. “We usually have it with salt, but there’s a goodly drop of cream in there to add richness for you.”

  The porridge slipped down easily and felt soothing to Anna’s throat. The warmth in her empty stomach was comforting and the headache had lessened to a dull ache instead of a

  furious roar.

  Anna looked around the room, with the minimum of head action, and saw that Kirsty had lit the fire. She could hear the sound of running water in the adjacent washroom and Kirsty’s voice humming as she worked. She came over to Anna and said softly, “I’ve put a chair in front of the sink for you to have a wash. There are clean clothes there and I will change and wash your bedding. It’s a fine drying day outside.”

  Anna was overcome with gratitude for this kindness from a stranger. To stop herself from crying again she asked, “Don’t you have to get home, Kirsty? I am very grateful for your help but I don’t want to keep you from your own work.”

  “Och, Alan will manage for a day or two on his own. He’s a grown man and fit as a fiddle. He’ll contact the doctor and bring medicine for you later today, as well as finding out how young Fiona and the vet are doing. You’ve not a thing to worry about, my dear, other than getting well again.”

  This capable woman reminded Anna more and more of her own mother whose nursing skills were so central to her family’s survival in Canada.

  Anna ventured to ask Kirsty the question that was predominant in her mind now that all the others had been taken care of.

  “Kirsty, do you think I have swine flu?”

  “Och, I am sure you have the flu, lassie, but I doubt it’s thon swine variety they talk about on the news. We’ll see how you go on today. How does your chest feel?”

  Anna swallowed and tried a deep breath. She broke into a coughing fit immediately but once she had cleared her throat, she did not feel worse.

  “I don’t know, Kirsty. I guess time will tell, as you say. I’ll have that wash now, I think.”

  Kirsty’s predictions were correct. Anna felt so much better afte
r a wash and change of clothes. When she returned to the bedroom fresh sheets were folded over a duvet Kirsty had unearthed from somewhere, and a tartan blanket on top brightened up the whole room. The pillows had been plumped up and it all looked so inviting that Anna almost succumbed to tears again.

  “Just have another wee sleep, dearie, and you will feel better when you wake. I’ll have a nice boiled egg and toast for you, if you can fancy it.”

  Anna obeyed happily. She could not tell if it was the weakness or if she was revelling in a lack of responsibility she had not experienced since childhood, but following Kirsty’s orders was quite the nicest thing that had happened to her in ages.

  * * *

  Muffled voices woke her some hours later. For a moment she could not tell if it was another dream, but then she recognized Fiona’s tones coming from downstairs.

  There was a man’s voice also. Anna panicked when she remembered how dangerous it would be for any young person to come in contact with her while she was ill.

  She was trying to disentangle her legs from the bedcovers when she heard footsteps on the stairs.

  “Stay back!” she croaked.

  “It’s just me, lassie.” Kirsty Matthews’ soft Highland voice calmed Anna’s fear.

  “Don’t you worry. I’ve sent them away. Fiona wanted to tell you she is fine and so is Dr. Moir. They both send their best wishes to you for a speedy recovery.”

  “Oh, good! That’s a relief.” Anna sank back onto her pillows. “What did the doctor say?”

  “My Alan has spoken to the doctor. He says we are doing everything right at the moment and he will keep in touch but not pay a visit to you, in case it is the swine flu.”

  Anna visibly tensed up at this information but Kirsty added quickly.

  “Now, he does not think you have the swine flu. He says there are a few cases of ordinary flu at the school this week and Fiona might have carried it to you, Anna.

  He says, as you are a foreigner, you likely don’t have much immunity to the Scottish germs.”

  “I suppose that could be true.” Anna felt better now that she had an alternative to the swine flu nightmare that had been scaring her. “Did the doctor recommend any medicine?”

  “Alan brought a prescription for you to help with the congestion and some pills for the headache but bed rest and plenty fluids will do as much good, if you ask me.”

  Kirsty delivered this verdict with a sniff and a grimace. It appeared she did not trust doctors very much.

  “I’ll be downstairs making some soup for you, lassie. Fiona delivered fresh vegetables and a nice wee bit of ham on the bone along with new-baked bread from her Granny. Now, lass, sleep and you must call me if you need anything at all.”

  With this admonishment, Kirsty disappeared through the connecting door to the washroom and Anna was left alone with her thoughts.

  It was rather pleasant to be addressed as ‘lass’ or ‘lassie’ and seemed appropriate in the circumstances. Anna had no idea of Kirsty’s age. She had the clear pink and white complexion of a Scot who spent time out of doors and if she was typical of the elderly women in Scotland, she was an excellent advertisement for their way of life.

  * * *

  When Anna woke again, it was night. The fire still burned brightly and the washroom light was on.

  Kirsty must have been busy while Anna slept, as the unmistakable smell of home cooking was wafting up from the kitchen. Anna soon realized she was hungry, and took that as a good prediction of an early recovery. Encouraged by this thought, she found her slippers and robe and made her way cautiously down the stairs.

  The sight that met her eyes was reassuring. Kirsty Matthews was washing dishes at the sink and humming along to music on the radio. The kitchen was cozy from the fire’s glow and clothes were drying on the wooden frame.

  Kirsty seemed right at home in this scene and Anna could not help wondering if Helen Dunlop had been equally comfortable when this was her home for many years.

  “Oh, my! You are looking better, Anna dear. Come away in and have some of this soup with fresh bread and plenty butter. I’ve had mine already but I’ll have a cup of tea with you, after I tidy up here.”

  Now that Anna felt well enough to chat for a while, she asked Kirsty if she had known Helen Dunlop at all. The answer surprised her. Although Alan had not had the opportunity to talk to Helen, his mother had struck up a friendship with her neighbour and, over time, they had confided in one another.

  “I wouldna tell this to another living soul, Anna,” she said, “but you are family and Helen would want you to know.”

  Anna sat back with a second cup of tea and listened intently as another part of the Helen Mystery was revealed in the lilting accent of Kirsty Matthews.

  Helen’s marriage to Harold Fraser was not a happy one. He was older than the young girl and so involved in his family’s construction business that Helen had felt neglected and alone from the beginning.

  Hearing this, Anna felt a surge of sympathy for the young woman. She, too, had known loneliness in her marriage.

  On reflection, Helen had confessed to Kirsty, she did not make a good marriage partner. Her early life had been fraught with pain and she grew up with the suspicion that everyone would eventually disappoint her and probably abandon her.

  Helen had never wanted children. She felt she had spent enough time with the Dunlop family as an unpaid nursemaid to their ‘real’ children, and she was unwilling to take up that role again. This drove another wedge between Harold and his wife.

  Harold took solace in drink. He found business acquaintances who also preferred to spend hours at the pub rather than to go home to wives and children, and this became his daily pattern.

  Helen grew more and more disconnected from her husband until their large and elaborate home was little more than an armed camp where they both lived separate lives.

  Helen felt she had no alternatives.

  Applying to the Dunlops for help was unthinkable and, although she had been told she was an orphan, her misery drove her to ask an investigator to track down any remaining family she might still have.

  When she discovered her closest family had emigrated to Canada, her despair grew insupportable. The life of secrecy imposed on her by a husband who resented her dissatisfied attitude, and did not want it known outside their home, meant that she had no real friends of her own. The few social acquaintances who only saw Harold’s young, trophy wife across the dining room table on rare occasions were never her friends.

  Harold’s family detested this cold, uncaring wife and made it clear to Helen that they wished Harold would divorce her.

  In the end, Harold’s death was a relief. After the funeral, Helen was approached by the Fraser family. In return for her silence about Harold’s drunken condition on the day of his heart attack, and the consequent accident, she was given the guarantee that she could keep the money from Harold’s will that had not been left to his family and their business concerns.

  The senior family members agreed to a generous financial settlement for Helen, provided she did not speak to the press, or contest the will.

  She left the house and its valuable contents intact, departing the Stirling area forever.

  Helen was glad to flee the situation she had been trapped in for so many years.

  She left the Fraser name and all its associations behind her. Although she had no place to go where she could feel at home, she was overjoyed at the freedom she had acquired for the first time in her life. She travelled around the United Kingdom as a tourist for a few years, living in hotels and looking for a suitable spot where she could settle down, on her own.

  Anna could not wait to ask Kirsty why Helen had chosen the remote area outside Oban.

  “Well, now, she said she had grown tired of busy places and curious people who wanted to know her for her money, and were not interested in her as a person. She really wanted to be alone, as she felt she had always been, and this old farm house suited her w
ith its simple style and lovely surroundings.”

  “Did she spend all her money buying this place?” Anna wondered why Helen had left the fixtures in her house in their basic state and not modernized them for her own comfort.

  “I wouldna ask that kind of question,” replied Kirsty in an offended tone.

  “That was private business, but she did go to Edinburgh a few times and buy some nice things for the house like paintings and ornaments. Personally, I would not have tolerated that antique of a cast iron stove there.”

  Kirsty threw a baleful look at the black stove taking up so much space in the kitchen.

  “I have a fine new Aga at home, myself, but Helen liked the old-fashioned ways best.”

  Silence fell on the kitchen as the two women thought about Helen, in their different ways.

  “It’s a sad story,” said Anna eventually.

  “Now, now!” admonished the older woman. “Helen was happy here for many years, Anna. She told me her story a little at a time and I think it made her all the more content that she had come through such troubles and found peace at the end.”

  Kirsty nodded and sighed, then glanced up at the clock.

  “You’ve been out of bed long enough, my dear. Off up the stairs with you. I am thinking you are over the worst now, so I will go back home tonight and you will call me tomorrow and let me know how you are doing.”

  Anna agreed and gave the older woman her heartfelt thanks.

  Anna thought she would dream of Helen after hearing this latest episode of her story, but she slept well and when she woke in the morning, she had remembered the decision she had made in the middle of the night before her illness.

  She would visit the Osborne Residential Home and find out what they could tell her about Helen Dunlop’s final months.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  It was another week or so before Anna felt recovered enough to venture into Oban with Fee again. She had progressed steadily, and received a clean bill of health from the doctor, but she continued, with Fee’s assistance, to eat well and rest frequently.