by Dee Yates
‘Tea’s ready… unless you were waiting for me to come and dry your back.’
She sat up so abruptly that water sloshed over the side of the tub. ‘I’ll be down immediately… and I can manage perfectly well on my own, thank you.’
*
When Agnes knocked on her bedroom door the next morning, Jeannie groaned and turned over in bed, wondering why her body ached so much. With a jolt, she remembered where she was… and that she was meant to be walking out onto the hill with Neil. She crawled out of bed and drew back the curtains. Although early, the sun was high in the sky. It looked as though it was going to be another hot day.
‘Neil’s seeing to the dog,’ Agnes said, as Jeannie came downstairs. ‘He said to join him outside. But come and have something to eat first, else you won’t have the energy for the walk.’ Agnes turned back to the range and ladled out a bowl of porridge. ‘Here you are, lass. Have this before you go. I know what it’s like out on those hills.’
‘Do you help with the sheep as well?’
‘Not now. I used to though, before I had the children.’
‘Your daughter… does she farm as well?’
‘Sarah? Aye. She married two years ago, a farmer’s son from the Borders. They’ve taken over the farm now. His father’s very bad with his back and is no’ able to do so much. Aye, they’ve just had a wee lad… my first grandson. I wish they were nearer, so I could see the wean a bit more… but that’s in the nature of farming. The children are either on top of you or miles away.’ The farmer’s wife joined her at the table. ‘What about yourself, hen? Do you have brothers and sisters?’
‘I don’t have any sisters, but I’ve three brothers. They’re all away studying, though my father says that, if war starts, they will probably have to fight.’ She took a sip of her tea and continued, ‘What about Neil? Will he enlist too?’
‘Apparently not. Farming is what they call a reserved occupation. The eldest lad is expected to stay on the farm to provide food for the country. You probably don’t know this, but towards the end of the Great War the country nearly ran out of food. I don’t know about younger sons. New rules are being brought in month by month. There may come a time when younger sons have to enlist.’ She paused and gave a small shrug. ‘Makes me glad for once that I only had the one.’
Neil stepped through the open doorway into the kitchen. ‘Right, if you’ve finished, we’ll be off. See you at lunchtime, Mother.’ He turned with unusual eagerness and grinned as Jeannie followed him out to the farmyard.
The walk through the valley followed the path of a small stream that chattered and sparkled over its bed of coloured pebbles. When they set off up the hill, Jeannie’s muscles began to tense. After a while she stopped and looked back over the way they had come. The hills were bare, but there was beauty in their barrenness. They were green, turning to brown, with, here and there, a hint of purple as the heather responded to the unaccustomed sunny weather. She took a deep breath of the peaty air and walked on with a smile.
‘It’s a beautiful part of the countryside. I didn’t realise it was so lovely here.’
‘Nobody does. It’s lovelier since you arrived, mind.’
Jeannie turned to look back over the way they’d come, hoping to change the subject. He was a nice enough lad, but she didn’t want that kind of talk.
‘Where are these sheep then? We seem to have been walking a long time.’
‘Oh, we’ll see them soon enough. As I was saying, it’s nice having you around.’
‘Well, I hope I’ll be of use. That’s what I’m here for.’
‘I’m sure you will. For a start, there’s a dance on in the village in a week or two. I’ll take you if you like.’
‘Maybe,’ she replied. ‘What else happens round here?’
‘Not a lot really. There’s church on a Sunday, if you’re that way inclined. There’s the Women’s Rural. Mother goes to that… but it’s not for the likes of you. They’re all middle-aged… and older… and spend their time comparing dumplings and sponge cakes and the like.’
She laughed. ‘Yes, my mother goes to that in our village. But not my Auntie Chrissie. She and Uncle Cameron live in Glasgow. It’s a lot different there.’
‘I bet it is.’ Neil sounded envious. ‘I bet you get up to all sorts there.’
‘Well, not exactly. She still keeps a close eye on me.’ Jeannie paused and looked up ahead. ‘Oh, I see sheep. Are these the ones we are taking down?’
‘Aye, that’s them.’ He gave a loud whistle and the dog, who had been sniffing around in the bracken, pricked up his ears. He gave a sharp command and Kit sprang into action. Jeannie watched in admiration as Kit ran up the hill at speed and rounded up the sheep into a close-knit bunch and began to chivvy them down the hill with the help of a variety of whistled commands from Neil. She turned and followed. The dog knew what he was doing, needing only an occasional word of command to keep the flock going in the right direction.
It seemed no time at all before the farm buildings reappeared in the distance.
‘Remember what I said,’ Neil turned to her, as the ewes passed through the gate into the farmstead.
‘About what?’
‘The dance. You’ll not find anything else to do around these parts. Or a better partner to do it with.’
Rob was sitting at the kitchen table when they walked in. ‘Did you get them down without any problem?’
‘Of course. They’re in the in-bye field.’
‘It’s beautiful up there,’ Jeannie added. ‘The heather’s just coming out and there are birds everywhere.’
‘You certainly look as though the fresh air is doing you good, even after a few days. You’d better make the most of it. The wind is picking up from the south-west and the barometer’s falling. This dry spell looks as though it’s coming to an end.’
*
Blackford Farm
County of Lanark
Sunday, 13th August 1939
Dear Auntie Christine,
Well, here I am, a real Land Girl! The farm is owned by Robert and Agnes Cunningham. They keep cows and sheep and grow corn as well. There’s plenty for me to learn and this is the first time I’ve stopped since I arrived at the beginning of the week. It’s very hilly here and far from anywhere – very different from Glasgow!!
Mr and Mrs Cunningham have a son, Neil. I don’t like him much. Unfortunately, he seems to have taken a fancy to me. I hope it passes, else life could be awkward.
Put a good word in for me with Dad and Mum, if you get a chance. I’m going to write to them now and tell them what I’ve done. I can’t imagine they’ll be too happy.
Please write. I’m missing you and Uncle Cameron.
From your loving niece,
Jeannie. Xx
County of Lanark
Sunday, 13 August 1939
Dear Father and Mother,
Please don’t be cross. You told me I should get away from Glasgow, so here I am, a long way from Glasgow, safe in the countryside. I have joined the Women’s Land Army. You will know what that is because Auntie Christine joined it near the end of the -Great War. So I know you will be happy for me. The library service say they will consider taking me back when the danger is at an end.
The farm is in the County of Lanark. It is very hilly all round here. The farm is in a valley about two miles out of the village. There are cows and sheep and some arable farming. The farm is owned by Mr Robert Cunningham. His wife is called Agnes and they have a son and a daughter. His son is called Neil. He lives and works on the farm. Their daughter has recently married and moved to the Borders. Two of his farm labourers have gone to do military training. That’s why Mr Cunningham wanted a land girl, as he’s short-handed.
I arrived at the beginning of the week but have been kept busy, so this is the first chance I have had to write to you. There is a lot to learn. The lambs are about four months old now and Mr Cunningham and his son are beginning to take them to market, poor things. Many
of the sheep have been clipped, though there are still a few more to bring in. They are dipping them too. I’m enjoying the work.
I will write again soon.
With love and best wishes,
Jean.
Jeannie looked up from her writing and saw Neil Cunningham cross the yard and enter the barn. It being a Sunday, all but the essential jobs were left till the following day and she wondered idly what he was doing. A couple of minutes later he emerged, a gun slung over his shoulder, and she remembered Mr Cunningham mentioning at the breakfast table that he fancied rabbit stew for his dinner this week. Neil glanced up at the bedroom window as he passed and she quickly looked down at the letters as though considering their contents. When he had disappeared, she rose from her seat, found two envelopes, addressed them and added stamps.
Robert Cunningham looked up as her footsteps clattered down the stairs.
‘Where are you off to in such a hurry, hen?’
‘Oh, I’ve just written to my parents and my auntie and I’m off to post the letters.’
‘You’ll have a long way to walk then,’ he laughed. The postbox is two miles back in the village.’
‘Aye, I know. But I’ve got all afternoon, unless you need me to do anything.’
‘Sunday is your time, hen. You can do what you like, though I was wondering if you’d like to come to market with me tomorrow morning. Of course, you’re starting at the end of the farming year, as it were, at least as far as those ewes are concerned, but you’ll see the rest in due time. Although, thinking of it, it’s no’ so easy to say when is the start and when the finish. One season rolls on to the next. So, if you do come with me, you can bring your letters with you and post them in Lanark.’
‘I’d like that a lot. Well, in that case, I’ll put on my boots and go for a wee walk along the valley.’
‘You do that, hen. Make the most of this good weather. It won’t last. It never does.’
11. Market
August 1939
Rain was hurtling across the moors in wild gusts, borne on the gales that had started in the early hours and were now rattling slates and finding gaps in the ill-fitting windows and doors of the cottage. None of the family had slept well. Douglas McColl had that look on his face that kept Alan silent at breakfast.
As Tam opened the door, he heard his father’s voice raised in irritation.
‘Where’s that boy? I give him the responsibility of going to market and he can’t even get up in time.’
The door slammed shut and Tam entered in a rush of cold air.
‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. Rivulets of waxy water ran from his jacket. He nudged his shoulders out of it and hung it over a chair. His father grunted and swallowed another mouthful of tea. Tam sat down at the table and nodded to his brother sitting opposite.
‘You ken what I told you about market.’ His father shot Tam a glance. ‘Don’t pay over the odds for the ewes. And I only want half a dozen, so don’t go buying any more than that.’
‘I ken what you told me.’
‘And take the old sheep trailer. You can learn to handle that one safely before I let you have the other. When you’re as good with it as Alan, I might think again.’
‘It’s out, Father. That’s what I’ve been doing… hitching the old trailer to Holly. She’s tied up ready outside.’ Tam struggled to keep the irritation out of his voice. He stared down at the table, frowning. Annie the maid, who had been helping out ever since Douglas began to realise how much the cottage was lacking the care and attention of his wife, placed a plate of porridge in front of him. He thanked her and began to eat.
No one looking now at the two young men sitting opposite one another at the table would think them brothers. Tam was stocky and of medium height. Beneath dark brown unruly hair his eyebrows formed an almost unbroken line that exaggerated his persistent frown. Anyone fortunate enough to get a glimpse of his eyes would see that they were blue, but such a sight was rare. He usually kept his gaze averted.
Alan McColl, two years his senior, was strikingly good-looking. Nearly six feet tall, his body managed to combine slimness and strength. His features were more delicate, his hair light brown and with a pleasing curl. His eyes, unlike his brother’s, were brown. Strange that this should be so, Tam had thought more than once, because Alan was always his father’s blue-eyed boy.
It was Alan who could be relied on, Alan who was given the responsibility… and Alan who received the praise. To make things worse, Alan always accepted his father’s partiality, without stopping to think that it might be unfair.
Maybe his brother was better than him. Though Tam couldn’t see it himself. They both worked long hours and they seemed to get the same results. Tam had to acknowledge, though, that Alan was much the better-looking of the two of them and much more successful with the girls. They seemed attracted to him like bees round a honey pot.
Tam finished his meal quickly and got up from the table.
‘That’s me away then.’
‘No so fast, lad. You need some money.’ His father scraped back his chair and stood up stiffly. Sinking his hand into his back pocket, he drew out a thin wad of notes and counted several onto the table. ‘Take these and be sure you bring me the change.’
‘Aye, Father, I will.’ Tam pocketed the money, nodded goodbye and, snatching up his coat, swung open the door and disappeared into the yard. ‘Treating me like a schoolboy again,’ he muttered once he was safely outside. ‘I’m twenty-three, for God’s sake.’ He turned the corner and immediately felt as though a bucketful of rain had been flung in his face. Struggling with his jacket, wet from the last foray into the weather, he fastened the buttons, heaved himself up into the trailer seat and flicked the horse's rear end with the reins. He gave a purposeful grin. Nothing was going to spoil this day of all days. His father had at last rewarded his diligence by sending him unaccompanied to the sheep market. It was a job that Alan had been doing for years, but now it was his turn, and he meant to enjoy it to the full.
Easing the horse and trailer out of the yard, he set off down the uneven track.
The rain acted in his favour. It took a lot to deplete the number of farmers doing business at the local market, but the appalling weather had certainly made a difference. Bidding was slow and the prices did not reach the usual for such good-looking stock. But the farmers who had come to sell were not keen to go back with the ewes they had brought, so Tam got a bargain that first day at the market. Loading the sheep into the trailer, he bolted the gate and set off to the café for a cup of tea.
The café was always busy. Its windows streamed with condensation and it reeked of wet wool and fresh sheep dung. Tam entered the damp room with a rising colour. It was not the first time he had been here, but it was his first time alone, and he was aware of eyes following his walk to the counter.
‘So, your father has let you out alone, has he, pal?’
‘Aye.’ Tam smiled self-consciously.
‘Sit down here then, and enjoy your cup of tea.’ The words were spoken by an overweight man, twenty-five years or so his senior. Tam recognised Robert Cunningham. The man’s all-weather face broke into a grin. ‘You’ve got yourself a good bargain today, pal.’
‘Aye, I ken.’ Tam sat down next to the farmer.
‘Your father should be happy with what you take home tonight.’
‘He should be,’ Tam said without conviction. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw James Simpson, a friend of Alan’s, approaching their table.
‘I hear you’ve help at the farm.’ James pulled out a chair and sat down next to Robert. ‘Is she coming to the dance on Saturday?’
‘I don’t ken whether she’s coming or no’, lad.’
‘Well, tell her I’m expecting her!’ He gave a chuckle and, leaning back in his chair, looked at Tam. ‘How’re you doing, Tam?’
‘No’ so bad. Yoursel’?’
‘So, your father’s let you out into the big, bad world on your own, has he, pal?’
/> ‘Aye.’ Tam gave a forced grin, feeling foolish.
‘Well, are you coming to the dance on Saturday?’
‘I didnae know there was one.’ Tam didn't like to acknowledge that he didn't keep up with the social whirl of the young farmers.
‘You mean that brother of yours hasnae told you! Wants to get the pick of the girls, I expect. Not that he has any difficulty. The rest of us always have to put up with his rejects. You come along, pal. It’s in the village hall. The more the merrier. So…’ he turned to Robert Cunningham again, ‘make sure you tell her about Saturday’s dance.’
‘Listening to you speak, lad, I’m no’ so sure I want to let her out of my sight.’ Robert shook his head. ‘I’ll see if my lad is free to bring her.’ He turned to Tam. ‘And if you’re there, you’d better make sure she doesn’t fall into your brother’s clutches.’
It was James’s turn to laugh. ‘I don’t think Tam has any control over his brother, more’s the pity.’ He rose to go. ‘I’ll see you on Saturday, Tam.’
‘I’d better be off too,’ Tam said to Robert. ‘Get those sheep back before teatime… see if Father agrees I’ve got him a bargain.’
‘Aye.’ Robert pushed back his seat. ‘He’s a hard man to please, so he is. I’m going over to the pens, so I’ll step along with you.’
He was a kind man, Tam thought, as he watched Robert Cunningham’s broad back disappearing through the door that led to the back of the auction ring. Someone you could talk to. Fair-minded. Helpful to the younger farmers struggling to make their way. His own father had been like that once, before the death of their mother. But even his father, he thought, should be pleased with his purchases today.
So lost was he in his reverie that as Tam stepped into the yard he didn’t notice the girl about to enter the building until he had all but knocked her off her feet. He put his arms out to steady her and was aware only of a mass of fiery curls and blue eyes that looked at him in amusement.