God's Acre

by Dee Yates

  The evening is a success. In the morning, he is up and gone at first light, but he has invited her to go fishing with him or, rather, go with him while he fishes. She has done this once before and knows that it will be a quiet day, but that is fine. They drive to an inland lake. Attired in boots, body warmer, wax jacket and matching hat, he looks the part. He stands for hours, but the fish evade the fly. She reads and thinks and later unpacks a picnic that she had made after his early departure. It is strange to think that she has no idea of his taste in food. She guesses the sandwich filling, takes a chance on the coffee, but he seems to enjoy it.

  They drive back in silence. He will take her out later for a meal, he says, after he has got out of his fishing garb. There’s a nice little pub just above where she is staying.

  She dresses with care and sits at the window, watching for his arrival, but she is heart-heavy, appalled at the conclusion she has reached. The meal does nothing to change her mind.

  Back in the flat, she sits gazing through the open window for so long that he asks her what is wrong.

  ‘It’s no good. I think it’s best if we finish.’

  Her words come as an unwelcome surprise. He is not expecting this. ‘Why do you think that?’ His voice is gentle. Gentler than it has been all week.

  ‘I feel as though I shouldn’t be in your life. I’m stealing something that doesn’t belong to me.’ She is crying now. ‘This town… your life here. It belongs to you and your family. I’m like a gatecrasher at a party.’

  ‘Surely that’s up to me.’

  ‘No, it isn’t. It’s up to me. Anyway, you’re no good at finishing anything. You’ve tried before, remember.’

  They sit in silence. When she eventually looks at him, he is crying too.

  ‘You’ll never know how much I love you,’ she continues. ‘I can’t ever show it, that’s the trouble. I can’t ever do all the little things that I would like to do.’

  ‘I’d probably tell you not to fuss,’ he jokes.

  The fairy lights are coming on along the quayside. Their colours fragment in the restless water of the estuary.

  ‘I’d better go before the ferry stops running.’ But still he lingers.

  ‘Would it be easier if I cross with you… then you won’t have to go alone.’

  He doesn’t argue. They step aboard and sit in silence. A soft chugging signals the ferry’s departure and it slips into deeper water and begins to weave across the estuary towards the further bank.

  All too soon they reach the pier. He grunts a goodbye, steps from the boat and walks away without looking back. The boatman, bemused, takes her proffered money for the return trip. She continues to stare at the retreating form until it merges into the twilight.

  ‘Look back… just once. Show that you miss me,’ she says to herself. But if her words reach him across the troubled water, he ignores them… or, in his agony, finds it impossible to turn, or, if he did, would find it impossible to see for the tears that are blinding him.

  She learns later that the following evening he wanders along to the pier, gazes across the stretch of water to the dark void of her window overlooking the jetty. He doesn’t know that she has gone, though he guesses it.

  She cannot stay the final day without him. After a sleepless night, she rises early, packs her case and lets herself out of the flat. Posting the key and a note with the agent, she staggers up the steep hill to the car park, throws the suitcase onto the back seat and sets off along the narrow lane. ‘Like a bat out of hell’ is the phrase that keeps spooling through her mind.

  It is only when she reaches the main road and begins the long drive northward that she appreciates the enormity of what she has done.

  27. Enlisting

  January 1940

  While he was still trying to find time to go and offer his services, Tam received an official document ordering him to attend the enlisting office. It came as a relief to Tam, who, for the last month, had prevaricated. Whether or not he was exempt would now be up to the enlisting officer.

  He called in at Blackford Farm the same evening. Jeannie’s coolness at their last encounter had made him keep his distance. It was as though he had convinced himself that their relationship was doomed and was now behaving in a way that would bring about its destruction.

  He knew that Jeannie would be busy with the milking and he went straight to the byre, where she was seated in one of the pens, the side of her head resting on the flank of the cow. He smiled at the sight of her and his heart broke as he thought of what he must tell her.

  ‘Tam. What are you doing here at this hour, although it’s good to see you? Have you finished work for the day?’

  ‘Nay, lass. I called up the hill to see Alec. It’s the last weekend for the pheasant shoot. He’s fighting fit again now after his shoulder injury. Talking of fighting…’

  Jeannie’s eyes widened. ‘What, Tam? Have you to go away?’

  ‘I have to attend on Monday for examination for fitness. I shall know then whether I’m accepted for army service.’

  Jeannie grasped the bucket and put it to one side. She walked slowly over to Tam. Her eyes were shining, though Tam could see that it was with tears rather than pride. Or maybe it was a mixture of both. She put her arms round his neck and pulled him towards her. Her lips were soft and he kissed them tentatively.

  ‘Will you wait for me, Jeannie?’ he said. He had promised himself that he would not ask, but when it came to it, he could not help himself.

  ‘Of course, though don’t make me wait too long. I’m the impatient sort, if you hadn’t noticed.’

  *

  On the day that Tam set off to Glasgow, the snow began to fall. It fell for a full forty-eight hours without respite. Roads were blocked, trains were halted, and over the hills a great silence fell.

  *

  It was warm in the barn with the big doors closed. The bales of straw that Alan and his father had stacked there helped to insulate the interior against the worst of the weather. The snowfall had stopped, but the clouds hung heavy as though it had not done with them yet. There was no wind now to move the clouds on and the early afternoon was dark with the threat of further snow.

  Alan was starting work on the tractor. He had driven it close to the doors of the barn, where two large windows let in what daylight there was, and parts were spread across the floor, cleaned or waiting for cleaning. There was little else he could do, though that didn’t stop him worrying about some of the sheep that he still hadn’t been able to reach. From time to time, he broke off from the job and, wiping oily hands on an old rag, walked slowly to the door, lifted the latch and gazed out across the silent hills. It was a landscape changed almost out of recognition. Walls had been obliterated and tree branches sagged beneath the weight of snow.

  Alan looked up doubtfully at the sky. The short winter days meant that night would be with them in little more than an hour. If there was no more snow during the night, he would be able to get out by first light and check the sheep again. They had been out every day, he and his father. They had lost several to the snow, but most had reached the shelters, scattered at distance over the moors. They had fed them and cleared the snow away from as wide an area as possible so the sheep could graze on what small amount of exposed grass they could see. As long as they weren’t trapped beneath the snow too long and become starved of air, there should be no more deaths. Alan sighed and turned back to the tractor.

  It was not a job he enjoyed, this cleaning of farm implements, but it was one he knew to be necessary. Usually, he and Tam worked together… or, more accurately, Tam did most of the work and Alan found other urgent jobs that kept him outside. He hated being cooped up, and besides, his brother was so good at it and seemed not to mind the tedious nature of this work.

  He pondered again over Tam’s interview. He had thought he understood his brother, but this decision of his had come as quite a shock. Soon after, he had delivered his own news to the family… news that Fiona was wasti
ng no time in acting upon. And then his mind returned to the evening when Tam told them that he had received a letter from the recruiting panel. The decision earlier made but not yet acted upon had been taken out of his hands.

  Alan cursed as the large spanner he was using to try and free a bolt slipped and bounced off his wrist. Sitting back on his haunches, he gazed upwards, to where the corner of the barn was festooned with cobwebs. With a snort, he considered how he felt much the same as the spiders’ unwilling captives.

  He liked Fiona well enough, more probably than any of his previous girlfriends, and it was gratifying how willing she had been to romp with him in the hay. But she should have been more careful. He wasn’t ready to settle down. There were plenty of desirable girls out there… girls like Jeannie McIver for example. With Tam going away, he might have stood a chance with her. It irked him that she should prefer Tam, whom everyone considered by far the less agreeable of the two brothers. Not that he begrudged his brother his good fortune, but he simply couldn’t understand why Tam had planned to go off and leave her when there had been no need to do so.

  Putting down the tools, Alan strolled over once more to the entrance. The scene before him was beginning to lack definition. Within the hour it would be dark. He must hurry to piece together the parts he had been cleaning or he would not be able to see. He turned and, pushing other considerations from his mind, lay down on the cold floor and heaved himself backwards until his head was beneath the tractor’s engine. Then he applied himself to the job in hand.

  *

  In the distance, Jeannie could see Alan McColl at the door of the barn. She waved, but he must not have seen her for there was no acknowledgement of her approach. A minute later, she saw him go back inside. She trudged on towards the shed.

  ‘Alan! Is that you?’

  Alan jumped and cracked the top of his head on the radiator. Cursing loudly, he wriggled out from beneath the machine, watched by an amused Jeannie.

  ‘I’m sorry, Alan. I didnae mean to startle you. I came to have a word with Tam.’

  Alan glanced through the open door at the thickly carpeted snow and back to Jeannie in disbelief. ‘How in heaven’s name did you get here?’

  ‘I walked of course… I didnae realise how hard it would be. But I wanted to see Tam.’

  ‘He’s no’ here, lass.’

  ‘No’ here?’ she echoed, her voice cracking. She sat down in the hay, suddenly exhausted.

  Alan stepped quickly across the intervening space and sat next to her, putting an arm round her shoulders. ‘Don’t cry, hen.’ He brushed the tips of his fingers beneath her eyes to catch the tears that trembled there. ‘Silly,’ he said softly. ‘He’ll have been delayed by the weather. It’s stopped all the trains, as well as traffic on the roads. He’ll be back, but maybe not for a day or two.’

  The tears that had been threatening began to spill down her cheeks. She brushed her hand across her face. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what’s got into me. I suppose I just wanted to talk to him.’

  ‘Well, I’m here, hen. You can talk to me.’ Alan’s face was close to hers.

  ‘You’re very kind, Alan. I must look a fright.’ She smiled through her tears.

  ‘You don’t look a fright at all. You look beautiful to me, the most beautiful lassie in the world.’

  ‘Och, Alan.’ She took the handkerchief from him and blew her nose. ‘Why does your brother no’ say such lovely things?’

  ‘Because my brother doesnae appreciate a good thing when he has it in his grasp.’ Alan clasped his arm tighter round her shoulder and looked into Jeannie’s eyes, where fresh tears were forming. She could feel his heart beating fast.

  ‘It’s no’ fair that he should be going away and leaving me.’

  ‘No’ fair at all. If it was me, I wouldnae go unless I was forced.’

  ‘Would you no’?’

  ‘Never,’ Alan breathed. He brought his face to hers and kissed the tears from her eyes. Then he tilted her face up and brought his lips to hers.

  After the merest hesitation, Jeanie jerked her head back and scrambled to her feet.

  ‘Alan, you mustn’t; we mustn’t. This is wrong.’ She bent down to retrieve her gloves from the hay. ‘I have to go.’ And without looking at him, she ran from the barn.

  28. The Return

  February 1940

  Tam hunched in the carriage, staring out of the window but seeing nothing of the snow that grimily blanketed the sides of the track. The train crept southward out of the city, and eventually the rounded whiteness of the hills, green when he had left to begin his journey north, came into view. Tam sat up and began to take notice. It would be a long and arduous walk from the station, even if the roads had been cleared. But it was one he had done several times before without any trouble and there was no reason why he should not again. It was strange, when he stopped to consider it. Strange, after what he had been told.

  The railway gangs had been out in force to clear the tracks and the station, sufficient for movement, albeit slow, of freight and passengers. The roads likewise, at least the major ones, were passable. Tam calculated that he would be home before nightfall, even though there was no possibility of taking shortcuts across the fields. He would be back only two days later than planned.

  Out of the train at last, he set off immediately, glad of the chance to stretch his legs and get some feeling into his cold toes. With luck, his dad and brother would be having tea when he arrived. He pictured them, looking up as he entered, eager for his news. And Jeannie? There would be no chance of seeing her today.

  It was as he thought. Two faces looked up in surprise as he quietly opened the kitchen door and stepped into the room. His father’s, unsmiling as ever, looked anxious. Alan, whose face registered shock at his brother’s sudden appearance, immediately looked away again.

  ‘It’s good to see you, son,’ Douglas began. ‘We were wondering if you might make it tonight, weren’t we, Alan?’

  ‘Aye. Sit down then, pal, and tell us what’s what.’

  ‘Give him a minute. Tam, take your wet things off and come and have a cup of tea. You look done in.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. I’ve been on the move since first thing this morning.’ Tam pulled off his boots, hung his greatcoat over a chair and came to sit in his usual place at the table. His father’s concern was unusual and he felt grateful for it. ‘How have you been managing on the farm? Are the sheep all right?’ He glanced at Alan, but his brother looked across to their father and remained silent.

  ‘Alan and me, we’ve been out the last couple of days and dug a lot out. We’ve lost several though, and we’ve still a lot to find, have we no’, pal?’ He looked across the table at Alan.

  ‘Aye. I’m planning on going out as far as Wedder Hill tomorrow to check on the rest.’ Alan’s eyes rose no higher than the buttons on Tam’s jacket.

  ‘Maybe you’ll be able to go and help your brother tomorrow, Tam… or do you have to leave straight away?’

  Tam took a deep breath and stared at the centre of the tablecloth. ‘They’ve turned me down,’ he said evenly.

  ‘They’ve what?’ His father was incredulous. ‘What do you mean? Are they saying my son can’t do military service when he’s spent all these years putting in more work than the rest of them put together?’

  For a moment, Tam was silenced by this unexpected fulsome praise.

  ‘They’ve turned me down unfit.’ He looked across at his father, frowning.

  ‘Unfit? What do you mean? There’s nothing unfit about you.’ His father, until now ambivalent about losing his younger son from the farm, obviously saw the army’s rejection as a comment on the care and upbringing of his son.

  ‘The medical officer took a long time sounding my chest. Then he asked what illnesses I’d had as a child. I told him I didn’t know of any. So he fetched another doctor and he listened. Then they told me I’d got a heart murmur and they wouldn’t pass me for active service.’ Tam gave a
disapproving sniff. ‘They said I could still join the Territorial Army if I wanted, but when they saw I was a farmer, they advised me to go back to that.’

  ‘He did take ill once,’ Alan remembered. ‘What was it the doctor called it… rheumatism or something like… Rheumatic fever, that was it. Aye, I remember the doctor coming a few times. I was jealous because I still had to go to school and you had time off. But he didnae say it would cause trouble in the future.’

  ‘Well, it’s no’ stopped you working on the farm, so it can’t be that bad,’ Tam’s father concluded. He went on with a grin, ‘At least we’ll be able to keep you here helping out as usual. That’s good news, don’t you think, Alan?’

  ‘Aye.’ Alan gave Tam a brief glance. He scraped back his chair and rose abruptly from the table. ‘That’s me away then. I’ll be back later.’

  ‘Are you no going to stay in now that your brother’s come back?’

  ‘Why? It’s no’ as though he’s been away fighting, is it? In any case, I said I’d see Fiona tonight.’

  ‘And I ought to see Jeannie and tell her what’s happened. There’ll be no time tomorrow if we’re out on the hill all day.’

  ‘You sure you’ll be all right out in the snow?’

  ‘Father, don’t start fussing. I’m perfectly all right, just like I’ve always been. I’ve no’ taken suddenly ill, just because the army have turned me down. I’ll be pulling my weight, same as I always have.’ If he was being honest, Tam saw his newly diagnosed ailment, not as a condition to worry him but as a sign that perhaps, after all, he was meant to spend his life with Jeannie.

  ‘And you could wait for your brother,’ Douglas said to Alan’s back as he made to go out of the door. ‘The two of yous can walk along the road together.’