Every week she wrote to him giving him news of Home Farm but she felt she had little else to say which would interest him. He replied regularly but the letters were often scrappy and she guessed they were more a duty rather than a pleasure. She knew Libby wrote to him and gave him all the local news. Victoria had mentioned the long letters she received in return. Maggie’s life seemed so depressing, living alone in the big farmhouse which she had once thought so lovely. She felt tired and lacking her old enthusiasm for the simple pleasures she had always enjoyed, a walk on a crisp frosty morning, the sight of a litter of new puppies, or a dew-spangled spider web. Everything seemed an effort and she didn’t have the energy to cope.
Mimi started at the village school in Darlonachie after Easter. Libby had taught her to write her name in large round letters and she knew all the letters of the alphabet and already recognised some simple words. Willie doted on his small curly-headed daughter with her wide smile and sparkling blue eyes. He insisted she was too small to walk the three miles to the village alone. Mary laughed and teased him.
‘Willie Pringle, that child can wind you round her wee finger. We all walked miles to school as soon as we were an age to go.’
‘Aye,’ his eyes clouded momentarily, ‘but I had George for company, and there was always Andrew looking out for us.’
‘Aye and hard work it was for him, if I remember. You and George were always up to mischief and getting into trouble.’ Her eyes sparkled up at him. He hugged her close.
‘I’m glad to see your old spirits have returned, Mary. I really thought I was going to lose you when Mimi was born. I would never have stayed here if anything had happened to you.’
‘Well nothing did, and I’m fine.’
‘Aye you’re really blooming, bonnier by the day ye are.’
‘Is that so, Willie?’ Mary eyed him with a spark of humour, ‘or are ye trying to get round me for something?’
‘I mean it,’ he chuckled, ‘of course I do. But er … well I did think we should drive Mimi down to the village until she’s a bit older.’
Mimi Pringle had all of her parents’ independent spirit and it was not long before she was meeting Lachie where the High Bowie track joined the new bridge onto the Langmune road.
‘When I learn to ride a bicycle will you buy one for me?’ she asked Willie. ‘Lachie is learning already and he’s going to get Fraser’s old bicycle when he’s six.’
‘Of course we’ll get you a bicycle, ma bairn,’ Willie said fondly. ‘What do you say, Mary?’
‘Yes. Old Mr Crabbe still has the cycle shop. We’ll ask him to look out for one for a special wee girl.’ Mary beamed at her. ‘If we get one in the summer holidays Daddy will teach you to ride.’ She laughed up at Willie. ‘That’s a father’s job. No shirking, mind!’
Libby had taught Lachie his letters too and he was good at counting. Victoria had noticed how patient her daughter was with her young brother and small cousin and she was convinced Libby was born to be a teacher.
The maternal dream looked like coming true when Libby reached sixteen and gained an excellent school certificate at Dumfries Academy, so it was a shock when her only daughter declared she had no intention of staying at school to get a higher school certificate, nor did she intend to become a teacher.
‘I want to work here, at Langmune. I want to learn everything, not just how to milk, or feed the calves and hens. I want to drive a tractor and learn to plough, and everything else. Then I shall go to college like Billy but I shall study dairy farming.’ Victoria stared at her in dismay. She looked at Andrew, expecting him to tell Libby such an idea was impossible. Andrew said nothing.
‘Tell her, Andrew, there’s no future for a girl in farming. She would be wasting her ability.’ Andrew raised one eyebrow and did his best not to smile. Libby saw the irony of it and pounced.
‘Farming is your life, Mother. You’re happy here.’
‘That’s different. They’re our own animals. It’s our future – and our children’s future, and …’
‘The work is just the same. It’s what I want to do.’
‘You don’t understand, Libby. You have a good brain and you can have a career. Your father and I never had that opportunity. Anyway it will be a big enough struggle getting Fraser and Lachie into farms now we have two sons.’
‘Fraser could have a career then. He does well enough at school. He doesn’t know half as much about the animals as I do, does he, Dad?’
‘No-o,’ Andrew said reluctant to be drawn into this debate. He could see both sides of the argument. ‘We’ll discuss it later.’ He scraped his chair back and made for the door.
‘There’s nothing to discuss,’ Victoria insisted. ‘We can’t make three of them into farmers.’ Andrew heard but he closed the door behind him, causing Victoria to purse her lips in frustration.
‘I didn’t say I wanted you to set me up in a farm,’ Libby argued, ‘but I don’t see why you should do that for my brothers if you don’t want to do it for me.’
‘There’s no future for you in farming, Libby. What will you do when you finish at college? Come home and work here? Expect us to pay you a wage?’
‘Well why not, if I earn it?’
‘Your father and I are not going to live for ever. What happens if your brothers get married and take over Langmune? Will you want to be a paid servant for them and their wives?’ Libby scowled and Victoria sighed heavily.
‘I only want what is best for you, dear,’ she said more gently. ‘I want you to have a career and be able to earn your own living, a good living. There’s a scarcity of teachers since the war, and you’re so good with children.’
‘I don’t want to be a teacher!’ Libby hurried outside, near to tears and unwilling to let her mother see. It hurt to know her parents thought more of Fraser and Lachie than they did of her, and neither of them worked as hard as she did.
She wrote to Billy and poured out her problems. She asked him for particulars of the agricultural colleges which accepted women students. She would send for a prospectus from the ones he had recommended for dairying. She would convince her father she had made up her mind. Her mouth set in a determined line.
Lying in bed that evening, unable to sleep, Libby heard the voices of her parents and she guessed they were discussing her future. She had never heard them quarrel but she knew they were arguing when she heard her father’s voice rising irritably.
‘She’s been telling us for a long time this is what she wants to do,’ Andrew said trying to be patient, ‘and you know she can be as stubborn as her lovely mama,’ he added with a smile in his voice. His hand moved to caress Victoria’s stomach. She pushed it away.
‘I expected you to support me in this, Andrew. You know teaching would be a good career for any girl and Libby has the brains for it.’
‘I know she does, but if it would make her unhappy … I love the land and the animals. They’re in my blood. Even if my parents had been wealthy I don’t think I would have wanted to do anything different with my life.’
‘Yes, but you were lucky Fraser Rennie was so generous to you. We were both lucky …’
‘But we had to work hard and make our own decisions first. We had to strive for what we wanted. Things don’t just happen. Anyway, look at Josh. He wanted to be a teacher all his life but now he’s going to be a lecturer and train students how to teach.’
‘Well that’s near enough the same thing, surely. I know …’ Victoria exclaimed. ‘I’ll get Josh to talk to Libby. He thinks the world of her. He’ll soon persuade her how sensible it would be.’
‘If you say so,’ Andrew sighed. In his heart he felt Libby had already made up her mind, and their daughter was made of stern stuff. She had all of their determination in her blood. He knew Victoria was right too, teaching would be a better future for her. He kissed his wife gently and settled down to sleep.
However much Victoria and Willie loved their respective daughters, however carefully they planned for them,
or wanted the best in life for them, fate had a nasty habit of interfering and dealing cruel blows when least expected.
Chapter Sixteen
Peter always glanced over the Situations Vacant column in the farming press but the following May there was one in the Farmers’ Weekly which grabbed his full attention. It was for a working farm manager for Croston Estate, to be responsible for the day-to-day organisation of the three farms which were in hand and to liaise with the factor.
‘I saw it,’ Mr Draper greeted him with a wry smile as soon as he saw him crossing the yard. ‘I’ve just been saying to Mrs D. “if Peter sees this we shall be losing him, like as not.” She has always said you’d head back to Scotland one day.’
‘I don’t think I’ve enough experience for such a job yet,’ Peter said, ‘but it’s so close to where I belong I must have a go. You do understand, Mr Draper?’
‘I do, lad. We don’t want to lose you but you can’t keep a good man down. You’ve worked hard while you’ve been with us and you’re reliable and honest. I shall miss you, but you deserve a good reference so you can count on me for that.’
Peter was pleased to be offered an interview. His two Suffolk ewes had produced three ewe lambs and a ram lamb between them. He would have to sell them all if he did get the job at Croston and that would be a blow. He decided to let fate decide.
‘It will likely be young Mr Gerald and the factor who will interview you,’ Andrew told him. ‘Lord Croston has handed the estate over to his son but he still lives up at the Manor himself. His son must be about forty I think but he’s not married. He spends a lot of his time abroad, or so I hear. You can borrow the car to go for the interview.’ So far Peter had resisted buying a car of his own. He never lost sight of his dream to rent a small farm so he saved his money.
Peter arrived in good time and parked beside two more cars a short distance from the farm office. He wondered if the cars belonged to other applicants. The farm steading appeared to stretch out behind the office. He was early so he strolled to the side of a track which seemed to lead to the fields. He hoped he would get a look round the estate even if they didn’t offer him the job. It looked tidy and well maintained as far as he could see. He was deep in thought so he didn’t pay much attention when he heard a tractor chugging down the track towards the steading. It was almost abreast of him when he looked up and saw the tractor and trailer slowing ready to turn towards the farm buildings. Everything seemed to happen in a split second. In the instant he recognised John Dunnet as the driver a small figure hurled itself from the tractor, shrieking his name. Peter dived forward instinctively. His fingers clawed at the child’s jacket, not a hair’s breadth away from the massive rear wheel. He hauled him into the air. They fell backwards together, Peter still clutching the boy.
‘My God, Rory Robin, don’t ever, ever, do that again!’ he gasped. ‘You could have been killed.’
‘You still call me Rory Robin,’ the boy chortled, heedless of his brush with death. ‘I’m Roryeee.’
Peter scrambled to his feet and saw the white face of John Dunnett above him, half out of the tractor, clutching the other twin by the back of his jacket. Apparently he had been about to follow. He closed his eyes again, trying to shut out the picture which flashed through his mind. He was mortified when his stomach lurched and he knew he was going to be sick. He released his grip on the little boy and jerked aside. When he regained control he found John Dunnett had climbed down from the tractor and was holding the boys firmly by their collars. His face was chalky white and he looked apprehensive. The door of the farm office had opened and two men were standing there. The older of the two looked furious.
‘Dunnett,’ he bellowed, ‘I’ve told you before you’re not to have those brats of yours with you on the tractor. It’s far too dangerous.’
‘I-I’m sorry Mr S-Stacey,’ John Dunnett, mumbled. ‘Rory recognised Peter. Before I realised h-he …’ He couldn’t go on. Like Peter he was visualising what had almost happened. Peter was surprised the twins still remembered him. He knew they had had two more long periods with Charlotte while their mother was in hospital but it must be eight or nine months since he had seen them last.
‘Is your wife in hospital again, John?’ the other man asked.
‘No, Mr Gerald, sir. B-but she’s not well. I-I brought the boys out with me because Doctor Ritchie is coming in to see her.’
‘I see. And how do the twins know …?’ he looked at Peter. ‘Mr Jacobs, is it? You are here for an interview?’
‘That’s right.’ Peter nodded, still shaken, and embarrassed by his reaction. There was no chance they would be offering the job of manager to a man who reacted like a girl. John Dunnett was explaining how the twins knew him.
‘I’m surprised they remembered me,’ he mumbled.
‘I take them to visit Mr and Mrs Pringle and wee Lucy,’ John Dunnett said. ‘They always hope ye’ll be there. Bairns don’t forget folks who are kind to them. My two have had a rough passage since my wife took ill.’ He looked towards Mr Stacey and there was faint reproach in his glance. Gerald Croston saw it but he knew his factor deserved his support.
‘We sympathise with your family troubles, John, but we can’t allow you to have the boys with you on the tractors,’ he said.
‘I understand, sir, but I think my wife will be going back into hospital today,’ John Dunnett said. ‘We’re hoping Mrs Pringle will foster them again. They’ll be starting school in the autumn.’
‘I see, well do your best to keep them out of danger.’
‘Aye, Mr Gerald, thank you.’ He turned to Peter. ‘I dinna ken how to thank ye. You saved my laddie’s life,’ he said.
‘Yes, he did. I expect a cup of hot coffee would be welcome, Mr Jacobs?’ Gerald Croston suggested.
‘I’ll not waste your time, thank you, sir,’ Peter said.
‘But you are here for an interview?’ Croston asked in surprise.
‘Would you still consider me after such a display?’
‘That was quick-thinking and courage, man.’ Peter looked at him. He had acted on instinct. Now his suit was a dusty mess and he felt as though his insides had been turned outside.
‘I suggest we all go up to the house for a drink of coffee. After that we shall take you for a drive round the three farms, Peter Jacobs. Our questions can wait. You may have a few of your own to ask.’
‘Thank you,’ Peter said, dusting down his one decent suit.
It was a long morning of looking and questions and at the end of it Peter felt drained and the beginnings of a headache throbbed in his temple. It was two o’ clock by the time he returned to Langmune but Victoria had saved his dinner. He felt better when he had eaten. He began to tell her about the disastrous start to his day, and his subsequent interview.
‘They said they would let all the applicants know by the end of May. Whoever is successful would need to start at the beginning of August.’
‘Oh, that’s splendid,’ Victoria said. ‘You would be able to give Mr Draper two months’ notice and I know you didn’t want to leave him in the lurch.’ Peter laughed at her enthusiasm.
‘They haven’t offered the job to me and I don’t think they will. They said they would prefer someone older and married. There’s a house available. I told them I live in a cottage on my own in Gloucestershire but they didn’t seem impressed. The manager has to live on the estate.’
‘Well that would be all right, except for your sheep of course,’ Victoria said. ‘You could continue renting out Ivy Cottage while you live rent free in a tied cottage. Alma is so settled in Darlonachie I think she hopes you will sell her the cottage one day.’
‘Mmm, we’ll have to wait and see. The housekeeper remembered me from that time I found Lord Croston injured in the woods. Do you remember? Mr Stacey made some joke about me making a habit of rescuing people. I think he was being sarcastic.’
‘He has a good reputation as a factor, I think,’ Victoria said. ‘Andrew will know. He’s eag
er to hear about the estate.’
‘They said it was in my favour to have Andrew Pringle for my uncle and to have had my pre-college experience at Langmune,’ Peter told her.
‘Did they?’ Victoria beamed with pride.
‘They were not happy about me having sheep of my own. Mr Draper had mentioned them in his reference. Mr Stacey made it clear I wouldn’t be permitted to keep them on the estate if I did get the job. I’ve been lucky with the Drapers.’
‘So you’ll not feel all is lost if you don’t get the job, Peter?’
‘We-ell … it would have been good to be back near everybody and the pay would be half as much again, but there would be more responsibility.’
Later that evening Charlotte telephoned to say Mrs Dunnett had been taken into hospital again and she had the twins staying.
‘Mr Dunnett told me about Peter saving Rory’s life,’ she told Victoria. ‘He’s tremendously grateful. He asked if I would tell Peter again.’
‘Mmm,’ Victoria murmured, ‘I think Peter played that bit down. He was more concerned with being sick in front of them all and showing himself up.’
‘From the way I heard it they all thought it was his prompt action which saved Rory from being crushed under the tractor wheel. It would be wonderful if he gets the job and moves back up here.’
Mimi prayed that Peter would move back to Darlonachie but she was busy studying for her Scottish Certificate of Education. Lachie had had excellent passes at ordinary level last year and he was studying hard for his higher grades this year.
When the Heather Blooms Page 17
