She nodded sadly. She’d heard Hugh’s wild talk herself and had long ago learned to take it with a pinch of salt.
But Jock was not finished. ‘I think you should get him to see a doctor, Aylie. It’s not normal the way he’s going on. It was how he had to be tied up when the bairn was born that made me afraid for you.’
Startled, she stared at his face and saw the concern in his eyes.
‘A doctor? What sort of a doctor?’
‘There’s a man lives near Harestanes who’s a retired doctor from Edinburgh. He’d have a look at Hugh if I asked him.’
She shook her head defensively. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Hugh, I’m sure of that. It’s only because he’s had such terrible experiences in Australia that he behaves the way he does. Oh, if you only saw the marks on his back, you’d know what I mean. Things like that make a man a bit strange. There’s nothing wrong with him!’
Old Jock looked solemn and very sad. ‘All right, Aylie, but think about what I said. If you change your mind, just send me a message and I’ll get the doctor to have a look at him.’
The visit unsettled her and she began watching her husband more closely. It was true his moods varied violently – sometimes he would be melancholy in the morning and as happy as a drunk man, though no liquor had passed his lips, at night. When he had money he spent it wildly, coming home dressed like a lordling with silver spurs and a tall beaver hat that gleamed when the sun hit its velvety nap.
This outraged her because it happened on the same day as she came home tired from a day’s work in the fields and found that her son, who had been entrusted to the care of a neighbour, had burned his hands badly on the hot door of the oven. In a rage she swore at Hugh who put both of his hands up over his head and seemed on the verge of striking her before he pulled himself together.
Later he came to her and said in a low voice, ‘Don’t shout at me like that again, Aylie, because I’m afraid of what I’d do – without wanting to if you see what I mean.’
Shaken, she nodded and they clung to each other, frightened as children at the thought of what had almost happened.
He could not tolerate noise so she taught the children to be very quiet. The house was hushed and silent whenever he was in it and she worried in case her children were being brought up in an unnatural way. Then he began to lose his memory, forgetting things he had done and said the day before, wandering in his speech and sometimes thinking he was back in Sydney. These episodes terrified her and she decided to take Jock’s advice.
* * *
The woman with the infant wrapped in a shawl at her breast and the other child clinging to her hand looked so defenceless to the doctor that he tried to break the news to her gently.
‘I’ve had a look at your husband and I think that – I think that perhaps he needs treatment, Mrs Kennedy.’
‘Treatment? What sort of treatment?’ she asked, obviously afraid.
‘He ought to go away for a little while.’
‘Where to?’
‘There’s a hospital in Edinburgh that takes people like him.’
‘Like him? What’s wrong with him?’ she asked.
He looked intently into her face and respected the intelligence he saw there. ‘Have you ever heard of syphilis, Mrs Kennedy?’
She nodded, silent and shocked.
‘I think your husband must have been infected by syphilis during his time in Australia. You said he was there for ten years, didn’t you? It’s endemic among the – er – the convict population, I believe. The disease could just be reaching the madness stage now.’
As soon as he said it he knew it sounded tactless.
‘The madness stage…’ The words seemed unreal to her but she nodded, too full of emotion to say anything more.
She did not blame him, really. He’d been away for such a long time and she knew his strong appetites, his overwhelming life force and its need for assuagement. She had never asked him about women, not wanting to force him into telling her lies.
She looked back up at the doctor. ‘But he’s not really mad, he only has these outbursts now and again. I’ll look after him and see that he doesn’t get into trouble. Please don’t send him away again.’ She was pleading for him.
‘I’m afraid he can only get worse. He might even become dangerous, to others or to himself. You’ve got to be aware of that.’ The doctor was obviously upset at having to break such bad news to her.
Aylie still had hope however. ‘Just let him be, doctor. If he has another attack, I’ll let you know but he’s been so calm since the baby was born. I’m sure it’ll pass.’
He shook his head doubtfully. ‘I know I shouldn’t do this but I’ll not report him at the moment – I hope you’re right, Mrs Kennedy.’
* * *
When Hannah was a year old her father’s mental equilibrium snapped completely. He had been prey to delusions for several months, thinking everyone in the hamlet was plotting against him, sure he was being followed by spies each time he left the house.
Eventually, after a long spell of silent depression, he ran amok in the middle of the night and killed all Aylie’s hens as well as cutting the throat of the pig she had been fattening for winter. He was about to come into the house with his knife dripping blood when he collapsed on the doorstep.
‘There’s no alternative. This time he’s got to be confined. He’s had his chance. If he’s not put away he’ll kill you all,’ the doctor told her very firmly.
‘But he won’t hurt us, he loves us, I know he loves us,’ she protested.
‘That’s as may be but he’s not rational any longer. You know as well as I do that your husband’s mind has gone. If you won’t commit him, I’ll do it over your head to protect you and your children – not to mention the people living round about you.’
When the cart with two male attendants came to take Hugh away he did not seem to realize what was happening and walked quite calmly out to it, his arms pinioned at his sides in the tightly bound strait jacket. Aylie and the children watched from the window as he was driven away to board the train that would take him to Edinburgh, to the madhouse where, they had been told, he would be kept until he was better. In fact the doctors knew quite well there was no question of recovery for Hugh Kennedy. His madness could only become worse and in a short time he would recognize no one, remember nothing of his past life. He would even forget his wife, the person to whom he had clung in fact and in memory all those years. He was irrecoverably insane.
* * *
Dark-haired Hannah sat hunched up on the cottage doorstep and listened to her mother and her brother talking inside the cottage.
With a tremor in her voice, Aylie was saying, ‘Of course I won’t stand in your way, Adam. I’ll miss you – very much – but I realize there’s nothing here for you… you’re right to get away.’
‘Come with me, Mother,’ pleaded Adam. ‘You and Hannah come too and I’ll look after you.’
Hannah peered in through the half open door and saw her brother standing in the middle of the kitchen floor. Although he was only fifteen years old, he was tall and manly, far older-looking than his age.
Aylie told him, ‘I can’t come. You know why. Your father’s still in that place in Edinburgh – and, besides, I can’t imagine living anywhere but here.’
Adam sounded angry. ‘Forget about Father, he doesn’t even know who you are. Every time you go there he’s just the same, a mindless animal. That’s wrong, I take it back, animals have more intelligence than he has.’ There was always scorn in Adam’s voice when he talked about his father.
And, as she also always did, Aylie was quick to Hugh’s defence. ‘You shouldn’t say things like that about him. He couldn’t help it. They sent him away to Australia and it turned his brain.’
Adam was exasperated. ‘Mother, you’re telling lies and I know it. His trouble comes from venereal disease, from syphilis! I’ve known what was wrong with him for years.’
There was a l
ong silence and then Aylie said, very slowly, ‘But he couldn’t help it, Adam. Can you imagine what it must have been like to be sent away for ten years? There was no certainty that he’d ever get back home again. I’ve never held it against him…’
‘But you should,’ said her son loudly, ‘you should hold it against him. Don’t you realize that both Hannah and I could have been infected, we could be syphilitic idiots now because of him.’
Hannah put her hands over her ears but she could not cut out the sound of their voices.
Her mother sounded infinitely sad. ‘I know. The doctor told me. He said that if you’d been infected it would show when you were still young. I’ve watched you both and thank God you’re safe. The doctor said that Hugh’s infection had probably burned out by the time he got home – he’d no sores, you see.’ Her voice was shamed, for she was timid about discussing such personal things with her son. Then after another silence, she continued, ‘But it had infected his brain and there was nothing they could do about that.’
‘Come to Canada with me, Mother,’ said Adam roughly. ‘Come with me. He wouldn’t even know you’d gone.’
Hannah heard her mother sob, ‘I can’t, I can’t. I hate to lose you, but I’ve got to stay here. Perhaps if you make your fortune you’ll come back to see me one day.’
There was a scrape of chair legs on the floor and she heard her brother saying in a choked voice, ‘I’ll do well, I’m determined on that. Don’t worry, Mother.’ Then Hannah slipped off into the garden, not wanting to be found eavesdropping.
He left next day and his mother and sister accompanied him to Melrose station where, with his brass-bound chest neatly labelled for the ship that was to carry him across the Atlantic, he boarded the train for Liverpool. As she looked at her son, Aylie realized that it had always been inevitable she would lose him. He was too good, too ambitious and too intelligent to settle for the life of a labourer, which was all that was open to him at home. Adam had been a good scholar but he left school at twelve to train as a shepherd with a relative of the Cannon family in the Cheviot Hills. He had the makings of a good shepherd but as he stared out over the empty expanse of hills that surrounded him, he felt his life was being wasted. Eventually he saved enough money to pay for a passage to Canada where there were already many Borderers living. From what he heard, it seemed that Canada was a glorious land of opportunity and Adam Kennedy was determined to make good. He was no stranger to hard work and it did not frighten him. His only regret was leaving his mother and sister, but when he spoke about those doubts, Aylie pressed him to go. She saw that it was his only chance.
As he kissed and clung to them on the station platform, Aylie kept outwardly calm though she felt her heart was breaking once again. Her son had always been her most loved child, the one with whom she felt the closest affinity. Now, as he left her, it seemed that her life was one of continual partings – first from Hugh, then Jane and now from Adam.
She had no certainty that she would ever see her beloved son again and there was none of the hope in her heart that had nourished and sustained her during Hugh’s absence. Now, looking back, she realized that it would probably have been better if Hugh had not returned, for the man who came back was not the man she had dreamed of during the years of separation. The day Hugh Kennedy was marched in chains out of Jedburgh’s Bridewell was really the last day she had seen her beloved husband. She did not however confide any of those thoughts to her daughter.
Hannah had been a distant and self-possessed baby. She had brushed away embraces, shared no confidences, required little reassurance and, worst of all, she very closely resembled the grandmother for whom she had been named and who was still alive, still as wrinkled, black-visaged and broken-toothed as ever.
From time to time Hannah Fa’ turned up unannounced at the cottage, not to see her grandchildren but to berate Aylie for sending Hugh away to the madhouse. ‘You sent him away, you got rid of him, you sent away my son, curses on you!’ she would chant malevolently.
Aylie was used to her cursing and she stood, blank-faced, staring bravely into the flashing black eyes. As she scrutinized the old woman’s face she saw Hannah in her – in the broad high cheekbones and the wide mouth; in the boldness of the dark eyes and the way the hair grew thick and curling on to the forehead. Young Hannah was a gypsy all right although her hair was brown and not raven black. Send her out wrapped up in a tattered grey shawl with a basket on her arm and she would be able to intimidate cottage women into buying anything she had for sale.
Four years after her brother left home, the girl was still attending school, helping to pay for her continued education by teaching the smallest children in the schoolroom.
The gentle old schoolmaster was fond of saying to Hannah’s mother, ‘You were a clever bairn, Aylie, but your lassie has you beat. I don’t think I’ve ever had a cleverer pupil under my care. It’s a pleasure to teach her.’
Hannah sucked in learning with a hunger that frightened Aylie.
‘But what good will it do her?’ she asked the schoolmaster. ‘What can she do with all this learning? It’ll only cause her grief because it’ll make her want more than she can ever have.’
‘She has a mind. It has to be fed. Learning is never wasted,’ said the old man, but he added, ‘I know what you mean, though. She won’t ever be happy working as a bondager when she’s thinking about Homer. You’ll have to get her a place in a big house, Aylie, where she might go on to be a lady’s maid or even a governess, she’s bright enough for that.’
Sometimes Aylie would take Hannah along with her when she went out to attend the meetings which were still held round about. The child sat beside her mother, listening intently to the speakers, and would question Aylie about what she’d heard as they walked home. Her mother often told her about the political activities of Hugh when he was a young man and Hannah drank in those stories greedily. Her father was her greatest hero and she liked the idea of him being a political martyr which was how Aylie painted him to her.
Aylie herself had lost none of her convictions but she had become inactive through her years of bringing up the children alone, and Mrs Williamson was now the unchallenged chief spokeswoman against the bondage system. She published broadsheets and pamphlets advocating the need for reform but Aylie was sad to note that these pamphlets never acknowledged that the women on the land had as deep, if not deeper, grievances than the men. Though the tide was turning in favour of change – one by one more enlightened farmers were improving their cottages and not insisting on bondagers being provided by every hind – these changes would not bring equality to female labourers.
Aylie was right. The women lost out because although they were soon to be able to make their own bargains with the farmers, they were forced to accept the status of second-class labourers and were paid even lower rates than before. Added to that they lost the security of being fed and housed by their hind. The worst cottages and the poorest places went to women looking for farm jobs.
When Aylie talked about this to Hannah, the girl’s fury at injustice reminded her of the way she herself used to feel before the fight had been driven out of her.
‘It’s no use,’ she told her daughter. ‘We can’t do anything about it. I tried and your father tried and we both lost.’
‘You didn’t try hard enough! You gave in,’ cried Hannah. ‘I won’t give in. I won’t stand for it, Mother.’
* * *
At the time of the Lammas Fair, Aylie’s old friend May came down from the hills with her shepherd husband and while he toured the sheep pens at Melrose, she walked over to Charterhall to visit Aylie.
Drinking tea from thin china cups which were brought out specially for the occasion from the tiny ‘press’ at the side of the hearth, the two women sat and discussed what had happened to them over the past year.
May was careful never to mention Hugh until Aylie brought his name into the conversation, for the news of him was never good. His madness was irrevocable an
d his wife had accepted that now. She knew that he would never be allowed out of the asylum again. Once a year she made the trip to Edinburgh in the train but he did not know her any longer and she came back sunk in a depression that would take weeks to shift.
‘I went up to see Hugh again last month,’ she told May. ‘I so wanted to tell him that they’ve made it legal to form a trade union… He’d once have enjoyed hearing that. But he didn’t understand what I was talking about.’ She passed a plate of shortbread over to May, urging her to take a piece, and then she added, ‘I took Hannah up to see her father.’
May stared at her friend over the rim of the gilt-edged tea cup and asked slowly, ‘Was that a good idea?’
Aylie shrugged. ‘She insisted. She’d not seen him since they took him away. I think she half believed what his mother says – you know, that I had him shut up to suit myself.’
May shook her head. ‘Oh, it must have been a shock to her when she saw him then,’ she said.
Aylie was pouring tea with hands that shook slightly but otherwise she was in control of her emotions.
‘Yes, she was very upset. He didn’t know who she was. He’s forgotten he ever had children. He shouted and swore at her. He seemed to think she was some woman he’d known in Australia…’
The women looked at each other wordlessly, their thoughts unspoken.
Aylie continued, ‘Poor Hannah, she’s been a lot quieter and easier to get on with since we came home.’ She had never made any secret to her friend about how difficult her daughter was to bring up.
May asked, ‘She’s sixteen this year, isn’t she? What’s she going to do? She can’t go on at school any longer.’
‘I wish she could, poor Hannah. The schoolmaster says she’s the cleverest girl he’s ever had to teach. I don’t know where she’s got it from.’ Aylie sounded confused. Her maverick daughter was a mystery to her.
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