by Dee Yates
It was exhausting work. They were wading through snow that was thigh-deep. Every step was a struggle. But every time they came across a lone sheep, they gave a whoop of joy as they pulled it out and encouraged it into the circle they had cleared to make an indifferent meal. There were some casualties of the weather, but their action had saved the majority of the flock from perishing on the hill.
The brothers arrived back to an empty cottage. Their mother must have gone out and joined their father in his search. Tam ladled out for each of them a generous bowl of soup for they had had nothing to eat all day. It wasn’t until five o’clock, when the evening light had faded into darkness, that they heard their father’s heavy footfall as he approached the door and swung it open. He was clearly exhausted. He stepped inside and looked round the kitchen.
‘Where’s your mother?’
Tam felt fear clutch at his stomach. ‘We assumed she was with you.’ He looked over at the fireside chair which still guarded the box of Elizabeth’s clothes and toys. Douglas followed his gaze.
‘I havenae seen her since I left first thing this morning,’ Douglas spluttered. ‘If she’s been out in this all day…’ He left the sentence unfinished. For a second or two each of them thought his own horrific thoughts.
The snow had stopped now and the clouds had cleared away. A scattering of stars was peppering the dark sky. It was bitterly cold and there would be a hard frost, but at least the snow lent its own light and they were able to proceed in relative safety. There were no marks to guide them, the winds of earlier in the day having further drifted the snow to obliterate every sign that anyone had trodden the ground that day. They fanned out, covering different areas in the hopes of finding some clue that she had passed in that direction. But there was nothing.
Douglas thought that maybe she had decided to visit Morag Murray and that gave them some solace, though Tam had reservations that this was the solution. They gave up trying to search more, realising how useless it was this late at night. At this rate, they would all be too exhausted to do any fruitful searching in the morning. They resolved that at first light Douglas would go to the Murray cottage to enquire whether Nessie was there. The two lads would continue their search, going in opposite directions and looking for any clue that might lead them to their mother’s whereabouts.
By dinnertime the next day, Tam was walking along the crest of a hill, from which he could see a wide expanse of white sloping down to the river. The snow was thinner here, the wind having scoured the tops and dumped it in the valley below. He followed the line of the river from where it entered the valley at its western end and wove its way eastward below where he was standing. He hesitated, staring down to a point straight below him where something caught his eye. Then he began to descend the slope in great strides, running as he neared the river, trepidation increasing with each thud of his boots. It was a bundle of clothes, half in and half out of the freezing water. He reached the river to see his mother’s eyes staring up at him. She was quite, quite cold.
He carried her all the way to the house, where he found his father and the Murrays, who had all been out looking. His brother was still not back. Tam laid his mother on the kitchen floor and they did their best to revive her, but it was no use.
It was like his baby sister’s funeral all over again. The snow was so deep that the minister, when he eventually managed to make his way through the drifts, said that they would go ahead as soon as the snow had melted sufficiently. But it was to be another three days before the tracks were clear enough for them to reach the church several miles down in the village. And in the meantime she lay, just as her beloved daughter had lain, cold and isolated in the bed in which she had given birth to her two sons and her Elizabeth, the daughter with whom everyone hoped she was now united.
If only, Tam thought, if only he had done something earlier… kept a closer watch on his mother… refused to go out that day searching for sheep when he should have stayed with her. He didn’t for one moment recognise that this might have happened long before, were it not for his loving care and his understanding of what his mother was suffering. So Tam blamed himself all over again and from then on determined that he wouldn’t let himself get close to anyone when the result was nothing but anguish.
10. The Land Girl
August 1939
Jeannie arrived at the farm the first Monday in August. The room she was given was an attic, one that had little to recommend it apart from a magnificent view up the valley. In the space, she spread out the few possessions that she had brought with her – a photo of the family, taken when she was about fourteen years old and her brothers preparing for university, a glow-in-the-dark lamb that had been hers for as long as she could remember and the poetry of Rabbie Burns, an edition which had been given to her by her parents for her last birthday. Given what she knew of Burns, she was surprised that her father was so willing to promote the poetry of someone with such a colourful love life.
She had assumed that the village of her upbringing was as rural as it was possible to get, but the land through which Rob Cunningham steered the wagon after meeting her at the station was more isolated than even she could have imagined. Cottages were few, circled by evergreens for shelter. Sheep grazed the lower slopes of round-topped hills. Cows cooled their feet in the shallows of a meandering river that snaked its way through the narrow flat base of the valley. At one point, the cottages came together clustered around shops, a post office, a grocer’s, the noisy activity of a blacksmith’s, and then the road climbed slowly uphill before dipping once more into the valley. A couple of miles out of the village, they pulled up in a farmyard.
‘This is it.’ Rob turned to her. ‘Welcome home!’
‘It’s… well, it’s a long way from anywhere,’ was all Jeannie could say.
‘Aye. That’s why I need help. Anyway, you’ll soon get used to it, and there’s plenty of us around to talk to and show you the ropes. Let’s go inside and meet Agnes and have a cup of tea. And then I must get out to the fields and leave Agnes to show you your room. I’ll give you this evening off,’ he added cheerfully, ‘You can start work in the morning.’
But in her small room she felt suddenly homesick… homesick, not for her parents’ home but for her recent one, for the bustle of Glasgow and the companionship of her Auntie Christine. For a minute she sat on the side of the bed, remembering with a smile the way her aunt had shared with her the memories of her own time as a land girl. She looked at the thick trousers and knitted socks and jumper that made up her uniform and were spread out on the bed. She placed the hat at a jaunty angle on her head, pulling a face when she saw her reflection in the dressing table mirror. But no, this was a winter uniform, much too hot for the good spell of weather with which they were currently blessed, so she hung it in the wardrobe and closed the door against the thought of having to wear it the next day. Then, picking up the wellington boots in their bag, she carried them downstairs to where Agnes Cunningham was preparing vegetables in the kitchen.
‘OK if l go and look round the farm, only it’s much too nice to be indoors?’
‘Of course you can. Neil will take you, won’t you, Neil? Have you met my boy?’
Jeannie turned to see the man sitting at the end of the table with a large mug of tea in front of him. He was less well-built than his father, though as tall, and his face was long and thin, his eyes grey. A stretched-out version of the older man.
‘How’re you doing?’ he said, nodding his head towards her. ‘Aye, give me a minute and I’ll show you round.’ He looked her up and down. ‘Going dressed like that, are you?’
‘I thought I would. Just for today.’
‘Please yourself, hen. It’s dry, right enough.’
Jeannie followed Neil Cunningham outside and across the farmyard to a big barn. From within came the sound of singing. Neil pulled a face.
‘My father! Why does he always have to be so confoundedly cheerful?’
They entered the barn. Ro
b was halfway through shearing a ewe. She lay on her side, black legs stuck out inelegantly in front of her, and looked dispassionately at Jeannie… a look not unlike that of Neil, who was still standing next to her. Rob saw them, stopped his singing and gave Jeannie a grin. She watched as he finished the ewe and released her, and laughed as the animal scrabbled to find her feet and shot off across the barn to the freedom of the open door.
‘Keen to start, are you, hen? Neil, roll this fleece, will you. Show the girl how it should be done.’ Rob grabbed a rag and wiped his hands vigorously. ‘We’re nearly finished with the clipping now. Just a few stragglers left. A week or so should see us done. And then there’ll be this barn to sweep out and tidy. That will be your job, ken.’
‘She wants to look round, so I said I’d show her the rest of the farm.’ Neil took hold of Jeannie’s elbow to steer her out of the barn.
‘Aye, pal. I’ll come with you.’ Throwing the rag into the pen, Rob followed the pair outside.
‘Can’t leave me alone to do anything,’ Neil muttered under his breath.
Sheep littered the fields surrounding the farm and the slope of the hills that formed a backdrop to the buildings. There were cows too, and calves, gathered by the river that ran to one side of their pasture.
‘The daddy of the herd’s in there,’ Neil said, indicating the entrance to another shed in the far corner of the farmyard. ‘He’s a bad-tempered beast. You don’t want to turn your back on him.’
Jeannie looked round the open door of the barn, where the bull was penned up in a stall by himself. He turned his head slowly and fixed her with small mean eyes. She looked over her shoulder and laughed uncertainly. ‘It’s a bit hard on him being kept in like this when the weather is so good, isn’t it? No wonder he looks so grumpy.’
‘He’ll be out soon. There’ll be plenty enough then to keep him occupied.’
‘Why? What will he be doing?’
‘Taking his pick of the ladies, that’s what. The calves will be older and the cows coming back into season.’
‘And this,’ Rob interrupted, ‘is where we keep Rosie.’
A huge head was extended towards her over the stable door. She stepped back abruptly and bumped into Neil, who was standing just behind her. Through her mind flashed a picture of the recruiting picture she had seen in Edinburgh.
‘It’s all right. She won’t hurt you… she’s gentle as they come. She’s resting up, apart from her trip to fetch you from the station, but she’ll be out soon, helping to harvest, won’t you, Rosie.’ Rob stroked her nose affectionately. ‘Come and say hello, Jeannie.’
Jeannie approached gingerly and put a hand out to stroke the long muzzle of the Clydesdale. The horse whinnied softly and put her nose down to investigate Rob’s pockets for titbits.
‘You’ll be riding her out in the fields next week,’ Neil said solemnly.
Jeannie looked askance at him.
‘Don’t tease the girl,’ his father said. ‘She’ll be wishing she hadn’t come. No, but Neil’s right. She’ll be out in the fields in a week or two for harvesting the corn, such as it is. Then in late September and into October, there’ll be the potato harvest and then the turnips.’
‘And there’s the sheep to dip and the tups to put out to the ewes and the cows to bring in,’ Neil continued.
‘They look happy enough in the field. What more needs done?’
‘The cows’ll no’ stay in the fields all winter. It’s too cold for them. We bring them into the barn around the end of October, depending on the weather. Then they’ve to be fed all winter and mucked out every day. Just the job for a city girl like you. You’ll soon be wishing you were back in Glasgow with your pretty knees tucked safely under a desk.’
‘Och, just ignore him. You’ll pick it up soon enough. Neil thinks farmers are the only people who work in this world.’ Rob opened a farm gate and they began to follow a track uphill. ‘The reason I’ve asked for help, hen, is because of the two labourers who’ve had to go for military training. If the war starts, as everyone says it will, then they’ll no’ be coming back. They’ll likely have to stay in the army and fight. So that’s why I applied for a land girl. I’ll likely need one or two more, like yourself, in the New Year, when we start to get busy with lambing. We’ll see how we go. But it’s steady in the winter months, at least with the sheep, apart from buying and selling at market. Which brings me to the last job for today. We need to look over the ewes in the far field and see which we need to get ready for the next market. As Neil says, never a dull moment.’
*
Breakfast was a noisy business. Jeannie couldn’t help comparing it with her previous experiences of family breakfasts. At her aunt’s, both she and her uncle were always late and ate with one eye on the clock. Her parents had eaten in near silence, following her father saying grace, which took so long that the porridge was congealing in the plate by the time they were free to begin. In the Cunningham household, she was greeted by the smell of cooking as she descended the stairs, Agnes having put her head round the bedroom door half an hour before and followed that by a bellowed call ten minutes later.
Rob Cunningham had just come in from the farmyard and was washing his hands at the kitchen sink.
‘Ah, Jeannie. That’s what I like to see. Punctual and raring to go. Sit yourself down, hen, and Agnes will give you some porridge. You need to eat well. We’ve a busy morning ahead of us.’
She was halfway through a huge bowl of porridge when the door slammed and Neil entered. He glanced at Jeannie, then gave a longer look and began to laugh.
‘Well now, how long are you going to last in that uniform? It’s going to be like an oven today! You’ll be melting after half an hour’s hard work.’
Jeannie looked down at her thick trousers and even thicker socks. ‘I know… but this is what I’ve been told to wear, so I’d better get used to it. It said in the instructions that sometimes the women in charge can call in to make sure we’re behaving as we’re meant to.’
‘I’d be surprised if they come this far out of their way, just to check on you,’ Rob laughed. ‘But I agree… you had better stick to the rules. We don’t want you disappearing again as soon as you’ve arrived.’ He sat back for his wife to place a large plate of bacon and square sausage in front of him. There was silence for a minute or two as they all concentrated on their substantial meal. ‘Eat up, lass,’ Rob said as she pushed the half-empty plate away from her. ‘We’ve a lot of work ahead of us this morning. Neil, you take Kit and go up to the far field and bring down the last of those ewes. We can keep them in the big barn overnight if necessary and work through them gradually. I’ll take Jeannie and we’ll get on with those that are penned up. She can learn how to keep the sheep coming through and how to roll the fleeces.’
Within an hour, Neil had been proved right. Jeannie’s all-weather uniform was sticking to her back and sweat was trickling down her cheeks and dripping off the end of her nose like tears. The ewes, fed up with being penned in when the sun was beckoning outside, were skittish and recalcitrant. She chased them round the pen in an attempt to grab one and direct it along the run towards where Rob was waiting. Why they wouldn’t respond in the way she wanted, she couldn’t understand, because they seemed all too relieved to be free of their heavy coats when Rob had finished with them and they went skipping and running out of the barn to the in-bye field. But she soon got the hang of rolling the wool and stacking it neatly in huge hessian sacks. As her back grew sore from the repeated bending and stretching, so her hands grew soft with the lanolin that the wool contained.
At ten o’clock, Agnes Cunningham appeared with a mug of tea, but it was a further two hours before they broke from work and made their way across the farmyard for dinner. Neil had just arrived back with the last of the ewes who were now safely enclosed in a nearby field. His return meant that the afternoon was even busier, because Neil worked with his father on clipping. This meant Jeannie had to keep each provided with ewes as
well as continuing to roll the wool neatly, so the barn was kept as orderly as possible. She envied them the way they could strip off their shirts, while she continued to swelter in her heavy uniform,
At four o’clock, Rob called a halt and Jeannie sank gratefully onto the sacks of wool.
‘That was hard work today. Is it always like this?’
‘Och, we’ve not quite finished yet. These that we’ve done today need to be dipped before we can let them back onto the hill.’
The dip was already set up on one side of the farmyard, having already been in use for the sheep now browsing contentedly out on the surrounding hills. By the time they were finished, a further hour later, they were all as wet as the sheep. She watched as the last of them made off across the farmyard and up the steep bank onto the field.
‘Won’t they get lost if you don’t take them back to their field?’
‘Nay, lassie. They were born out on the hill and they know exactly which hill to go back to. There’s no need for us to take them back. You’ll see when it comes to lambing, the lambs are born out on the hill. They know it from the start of their lives and don’t ever get lost. We call it hefting.’
‘You can come with me tomorrow, can’t she, Dad, and see how the sheep have gone back to their own heft?’
‘Aye, I reckon so. It would do her good to get the lie of the land.’ Rob turned to Jeannie. ‘Just sweep up in the shed, will you, lass, then you can go and get cleaned up. Agnes will have the tea ready by the time you’ve done that.’
*
Jeannie lay in the bath for a long time, intent on easing the ache in her back and shoulders and thinking of her previous job in the library at Clydebank. It seemed like a million miles away. She had never been this tired after a day’s work and never been as satisfied as today with a job well done. She lay there so long that she was drifting off to sleep and came to with a jump as there was a loud rap on the door.
