‘There’s one on Christmas Eve and another on Boxing Day, but I’ll be seeing you before then to make proper arrangements. Do you like my little car? There’ll be no problem about collecting you and seeing you home.’
December dawned and the days passed. When Mimi mentioned the dances Willie was filled with doubts again. This time his objection was that she was too young to be gallivanting. Mary smiled and winked at Mimi. Her look said “leave him to me”.
‘It’s only a fortnight to Christmas. I think I’ll drive to Dumfries on Monday and do some Christmas shopping,’ she said. Later she asked Mimi if she would like a new dress to wear for the Christmas dance.
‘You think Dad will let me go?’ Mimi asked.
‘He will when I’ve talked to him. I know you’ll be safe with Peter; I suppose Fraser and Lachie will be there too?’ Mimi nodded and hugged her mother.
Mary drove to Dumfries on Monday morning and spent a happy few hours browsing around the shops. She saw a dainty hexagonal watch on a gold bracelet in the window of one of the jewellers. She had promised to buy Mimi a gold watch for her eighteenth birthday but that was more than a year away but she stared at the watch for a long time. It would look so good on Mimi’s slim wrist. It was more expensive than she had intended to pay but she might never see anything as lovely when she wanted it. Mimi deserved a few pretty things to give her confidence. Mary would have done anything she could to compensate for the blow life had dealt her beloved child.
She hurried back to the car. She had been longer than she intended. It would be almost dark by the time she got home. She could feel a headache coming on. She ought to have stopped for something to eat, or at least a cup of tea, but she hated going into a restaurant alone. She would have a drink before she tended the hens. She heaved a sigh of relief as she drove through Darlonachie and up the track, past Home Farm, on to High Bowie. She had no recollection of driving out of the town, but she was almost home. It was going to be a cold night. She blinked, trying hard to clear her vision. The car swerved violently as it caught the edge of the track; she managed to get it under control but the shock made her shiver. If the car had rolled over the edge … ‘Don’t think about what might have happened,’ she muttered. It was a relief when she drove into the familiar yard. She gathered her packages and carried them inside, dumping some on the table while she poked up the fire with her free hand. Automatically she shoved the kettle on for tea but she was only vaguely aware of her actions. Instinctively she clutched the long narrow package from the jeweller’s and climbed the stairs.
The house was in darkness when Mimi arrived home from school. She found the kettle steaming away on the side of the fire but there was no sign of her mother and no answer when she called. She went outside to look for her. Some hens were still scratching outside their huts, waiting for their afternoon feed although dusk was falling.
Willie was collecting the buckets to feed the pigs.
‘Where’s Mum? Have you seen her, Dad?’
‘Not since she went to Dumfries about mid-morning, love.’ He walked beside her towards the house but he frowned at the sight of the abandoned car slewed across the yard. ‘She must have been in a hurry to get indoors. She never leaves the car like that.’ Mary was neat and tidy in everything she did. Willie felt his heartbeats quicken. Some sixth sense warned him something was wrong. He set down the buckets and hurried into the house, switching on the lights as he went.
Mary was still wearing her winter coat, sprawled half across the bed where she had collapsed in the cold darkness of the December afternoon. As soon as he saw her Willie knew she had had a stroke.
‘Telephone the doctor, Mimi, an ambulance …’ Gently he lifted Mary’s arm and then her leg onto the bed and opened the buttons of her coat.
‘B-but Daddy …?’ Mimi felt young and helpless.
‘Hurry, lassie,’ Willie urged brusquely. ‘I-I think your mother has had a stroke.’ Mimi rushed down the stairs to the telephone.
Mary opened her eyes but there was no recognition in them. She tried to speak but all she could utter were unintelligible noises. Willie stroked her brow gently and murmured soothing noises but his heart was heavy. He had known a stroke ruin the life of the strongest man. Mary was only forty-seven. “Please God don’t let it be serious,” he prayed silently, but in his heart he knew it was. Her mouth was pulled to one side and she couldn’t move her left side. She was clutching a slim package in her other hand; she seemed agitated but no words would come.
‘Doctor Ritchie is visiting at one of the cottages at Home Farm. They’re sending him straight up,’ Mimi said breathlessly as she ran into the bedroom. She threw herself to her knees beside the bed, holding her mother’s lifeless hand.
It did not take Steve Ritchie long to get up to High Bowie. He had seen all sorts of illnesses but he felt his heart contract with pity when he looked down at Mary, and at Mimi kneeling beside her, holding her hand. He could see by her clothes she had been away from the farm. He asked Willie a few short questions as he bent over his wife.
‘She seems agitated,’ he frowned. ‘What’s this?’ He touched the slim package clutched in Mary’s other hand. Her brain was incapable of making her fingers release it but she turned her head in the direction of Mimi’s voice. ‘I think she wants you to have this, Mimi … Listen, that’s the ambulance. Bring them up Willie.’ Mary seemed more agitated. Doctor Ritchie prised her fingers from the package and handed it to Mimi. ‘It looks like jewellery – a gift perhaps. Put it away in your room, Mimi.’ Mary seemed to grow calmer as he gave Mimi the package, but Doctor Ritchie had seen more than Mimi and he ushered her out of the bedroom. ‘Make way for the stretcher, Mimi. I’ll go in the ambulance with your Mother. Be brave now. Follow in the car with your father.’ Mimi hurried to her room and tucked the package beneath her handkerchief case where it lay forgotten. She wanted to speak to her mother, to kiss her cheek, before they carried her to the ambulance but Doctor Ritchie stood between them. His eyes met Willie’s. ‘I’ll see you at the hospital,’ he said.
Later they were told that Mary had died in the ambulance on the way to hospital. There was nothing anyone could do. All the way there Willie had been shaking like an aspen leaf. Mimi knew there was no way he could drive them home. She felt cold and remote. A nurse told her where to find the public telephone but she had no change. She dialled Langmune and reversed the charges. After the initial shock Victoria said, ‘Wait at the hospital, Mimi. We’re coming. Fraser can look after Molly. Andrew will drive your car back.’ Mimi put the receiver back in place then she began to tremble. She was vaguely aware of a nurse talking to them, bringing a cup of tea, asking her father questions.
Chapter Eighteen
Christmas came and went unnoticed at High Bowie. It didn’t occur to Mimi to return to school. Her father needed her. In the beginning friends and neighbours called to offer their sympathy. Peter came several times but it was plain to all of them that Willie preferred to grieve alone.
‘I hate to think of you alone up here, Mimi,’ Peter said, ‘but I feel your father considers me a nuisance just now, although we have always got on so well.’
‘No, I’m sure that’s not true,’ Mimi said. ‘He’s the same with everybody, even me. He blames himself. It – it’s as though he lives in a different world.’
‘It will pass,’ Peter comforted, ‘but I will stay away for a while and give him time and space. Lift the telephone and I shall come if you need me.’
‘Thank you, Peter. You’re a good friend …’ Mimi said in a low voice. She did need him, but she understood how unwelcome he must feel.
‘My first ewe lambed on New Year’s Day,’ he said, ‘and the rest are due any time so I expect they’ll keep me busy.’
‘I understand, Peter,’ Mimi said, and she did. He drew her into his arms and held her close; he kissed her tenderly before he left. It was a precious memory which brought comfort when her thoughts were dark with despair in the months which followed.
>
Victoria, Libby, and Charlotte took turns at inviting them for Sunday lunch but Willie always made an excuse and Mimi couldn’t leave him on his own. She doubted whether he would eat at all if she didn’t put food under his nose.
Peter wrote to her and she treasured his letters, telling her about his work, or what was happening at Lintysmill. Sometimes he telephoned but if her father answered he was polite but distant and he never called Mimi to the phone.
In March Mimi had her seventeenth birthday but she had already left her girlhood behind in the three months since her mother’s death. She watched over her father even more carefully than Mary had done. She heard him tossing in the room next to hers. He seemed to have withdrawn into a world apart. He cared for his animals, he worked, he ate, and he slept when exhaustion claimed him. He welcomed the bitter winds of March, and the longer lighter days, and the constant care needed by lambing ewes.
Mimi was growing concerned about the growing pile of letters. Her father had always paid the bills himself but he set them aside unopened. In desperation she telephoned Langmune and asked Aunt Victoria for advice.
‘Pile all the letters into a carrier and come over here as soon as you’ve finished the essential jobs, lassie.’ Victoria’s tone was brisk. There was no arguing. ‘Leave your father a snack and you can have your dinner with us, then we’ll sort things together. And bring the cheque book. Willie can’t opt out of his responsibilities for ever.’
Mimi felt a surge of relief now that she had confided some of her worries. She had begun to wonder if her father wanted to shut her out of his life along with the rest of the world. She kept remembering the conversation she had overheard at her mother’s funeral. The two women were strangers to her but she overheard the younger one remark,
‘He thought the world o’ his wife. Remember how ill she was when she was expecting the bairn? I remember him telling old Doctor Grantly he must save his wife’s life and sacrifice the babe if it came to a choice between the two o’ them.’
‘Yes, I remember,’ the older woman sighed, ‘but Willie Pringle will be thankful he has a daughter now, poor man.’
‘Aye maybe, but I wish my man thought as much o’ me as he did o’ his wife.’ They had moved away then. Mimi wondered sometimes if her father still wished she had been the one to die, if only he could have her mother back.
Victoria helped her sort the letters into piles. Some were just duplicates and reminders of neglected bills and she threw them in the fire.
‘See, there’s not so many now,’ she said, ‘but here’s one from the Academy, asking why you have not been attending school. Have you any regrets about giving up your education, Mimi?’
‘Not when Dad needs me, though he is so silent and withdrawn, I’m not sure he knows I’m there half the time.’
‘I’ll answer that letter then and explain what has happened. If you write out the cheques and address an envelope for each one all your father needs to do is sign the cheques ready for you to post. You must make sure he does it. You must insist. I know your mother never nagged but sometimes you have to be firm.’
‘I’ll try,’ Mimi nodded, but without conviction. ‘I’ll have to be getting back home now but I do appreciate your help.’
‘Wait for a scone and a cup of tea. Here’s Uncle Andrew and Lachie and Fraser coming in for theirs before the milking.’
‘Mimi, I wonder if you could cope with Lachie if I send him over to High Bowie to get some experience in lambing ewes?’ Andrew asked. Mimi wondered if he was serious. She frowned.
‘I can feed Lachie, if he can put up with my cooking,’ she said, ‘but are you sure he wants to come? Dad is so uncommunicative. I don’t know whether he would explain about things.’
‘If Lachie is going to be a vet he’ll need to learn and I can’t think of a better man to teach him than your father.’
‘Peter said your father taught him all he knows about sheep,’ Lachie said. He grinned at her. ‘You’re not such a bad cook, are you, Mimi?’
‘I think you’ll survive,’ she smiled back at him. ‘But I do have a terrible job getting the oven hot enough sometimes.’ She frowned. ‘I thought I might ask Granny Pringle if she understands about the flues.’
‘You need to rake them right out,’ Victoria said, ‘every morning if you have time, before you do your blackleading. It can still be a problem when the wind is in the wrong direction. I remember the struggles we used to have with the old range at the Castle.’
‘But that’s a ruin now,’ Fraser said. ‘Even Granny P. has a modern range.’ Andrew and Victoria exchanged glances. It was too bad of Willie to expect Mimi to do everything Mary had done. She never saw her friends since she stopped attending school. A few days later Victoria mentioned this to Polly over a cup of tea.
‘I feel so sorry for Mimi,’ she said, ‘but Willie does need her. He seems to be so depressed. She says he looks the same on the outside but he’s like a snail that’s gone away and left its shell behind.’
‘Is that what the bairn said?’ Polly asked with concern. ‘That’s just how Joe’s father was when his wife died. The doctor said it was the shock of losing her; he got very low in spirits. It’s not good for Mimi being up there on her own if Willie is like that.’
‘Andrew is sending Lachie to stay for the lambing; we think some young company will be good for Mimi. They’ve always got on well. Willie didn’t sound too enthusiastic though when Andrew phoned to suggest it.’
Polly thought about Willie. She was at Langmune when Lachie arrived home for his Sunday dinner, bringing his dirty washing with him.
‘Mimi would be offended if she knew I’d brought my washing home,’ he said but you’ve no idea how hard she has to work. She still lights a fire for the boiler on a Monday and she has to turn a handle over the wash tub. She doesn’t even have an electric wringer. She turns it by hand.’
‘Mmm that’s the way we used to wash,’ Victoria nodded. ‘I’m glad I’ve got an electric washing machine with this dirty wee rascal though.’ She seated Molly in a seat beside her grandmother but the little girl just gave her impish grin.
‘It’s not only the washing. Mimi has an electric kettle and that’s about all. Do you think Uncle Willie can’t afford anything more modern to make her life easier? After all she’s given up school to look after him. She milks the two cows morning and night and she feeds the hens and cleans and packs the eggs.’ Lachie had always felt deep affection for his cousin and he was angry and indignant.
‘Why didn’t you ask him whether he can afford more modern equipment for Mimi?’ Andrew asked. ‘He can’t be that poor. He has no labour to pay and he gets subsidies for his sheep.’
‘I wouldn’t dare ask him.’ Lachie frowned. ‘Uncle Willie has changed. There’s no fun in him now. He used to tease and tell jokes and interesting things about his dogs and the countryside. Now he only speaks if he has to. It must be miserable for Mimi. I don’t know how she sticks it.’
‘Maybe she’ll not stick it if Willie doesn’t snap out of his despair,’ Andrew said, anxious for both his brother and his niece. He couldn’t imagine his own life without Victoria. She and Mary had been the same age. He shuddered and pushed the thought away.
Polly listened and made a silent resolve. She was Willie’s mother. She could give him a piece of her mind and risk offending him, or even hurting him, but she couldn’t stand by and let Mimi suffer. In a few weeks she would be seventy-six. There was no time to waste.
Mimi couldn’t believe it when she saw her grandmother plodding up the track with her stick in one hand and a basket in the other. It was a fine April morning and Polly had wakened early. She had baked some fresh scones and packed them in a basket for Mimi. This was her excuse for calling, if she needed one. Along the hedgerows the primroses were blooming in profusion, lifting their lovely faces to the sunshine and her spirits lifted too.
‘Granny! How did you get here? You didn’t come across the burn?’
‘Aye, I d
id. It’s a beautiful morning and I baked a fresh scone for ye, lassie.’ She handed Mimi the basket. ‘I nearly missed the last stone, but here I am.’ Polly didn’t add that she’d had to sit on a log until her heart stopped thumping after she had nearly fallen in. She would not attempt that again.
‘It’s lovely to see you,’ Mimi said with real pleasure, ‘and I’ll take you home in the car. I haven’t passed my test yet but we shall not go on the road. Aunt Victoria persuaded me to get my provisional licence and I’ve got the L plates.’
‘That’ll suit me fine, bairn, but I’d like a chat with your father before I leave. D’you think you could leave us alone after he’s had his dinner?’
‘Of course, but he eats up and goes back to work before we’re finished.’
‘I shall detain him today if you and Lachie make yourselves scarce.’
‘All right. You sound as though you mean business, Granny?’
‘Aye, I do. He’s moped long enough, and I shall tell him so.’ She looked at Mimi’s anxious young face. ‘Don’t fret, lassie.’ She patted her granddaughter’s arm. ‘Remember he was once my bairn and sat upon my knee. I don’t mean to hurt him, but neither can he go on the way he is, shutting out the world and everybody in it. I shall remind him he hasna been to see his old mother for more than three months, for a start.’
It was just as Mimi had said. Willie cleared his plate and pushed back his chair to go out. Mimi had already whispered instructions to Lachie and they rose too.
‘It’s a long while since I’ve seen ye, Willie,’ Polly said, ‘Have ye no’ a minute for your old mother?’ Willie turned to look back at her in genuine surprise. She nodded at him. ‘Sit ye down again until I drink my tea. I’d like a chat with ye.’ Willie frowned but he did as she asked, barely aware that Lachie and Mimi had left the kitchen and closed the door behind them. He sat in silence, staring into space. Polly’s heart sank. There seemed to be no soul in a man who stared so vacantly. She’d made the effort to get here. She was not going to hold back now.
When the Heather Blooms Page 19
