Dragon Land

by Maureen Reynolds

  It was raining on the day of departure and Laura almost did a U-turn and cancelled the plan, but we had prepared all our food for a couple of days and stowed it in the rear saddlebags, so complete with raincoats and sturdy shoes we set off on our way to our first stop, near Alyth. The rain swept into our faces as we made our way towards our destination, and we were soaked by the time we reached the grey stone building, which was a welcome sight to our eyes.

  We half expected the hostel to be empty in this awful weather, but were surprised to find three young women cooking their tea in the communal kitchen. I’d never thought I would find the aroma of baked beans so appealing. We had stopped under the shelter of a tree a few hours earlier and had eaten our sandwiches, but now we were all starving.

  The women turned out to be very friendly and we were surprised when they said they were office workers from Pullar’s dye works in Perth out on a weekend jaunt. As we opened our bags to take out sausages and eggs, they asked us to sit with them at the long table in the common room. Pat brewed the tea and I was in charge of the frying pan, while Laura spread the bread with butter. Never before in my life or since have I enjoyed a meal so much.

  The women told us they regularly cycled to the hostels at the weekend. As we chatted, Roberta, Ann and Cathy said they would be going back the next day, but the hostel was always busy, so there would be lots more people coming in.

  I said we would be leaving as well, as we were planning on moving on. With our wet coats hanging over chairs to dry, we moved to the common room and were soon exchanging stories about training to be teachers. Laura said it was the only job she wanted to do and Pat agreed with her. Ann looked at me and asked if I also felt it was my vocation.

  I said yes it was. After all, I wasn’t going to explain my silly notions of swashbuckling adventures, but Laura laughed and said, ‘Lizzie wanted to be a pirate or an explorer when she was young.’

  I glared her, but everyone seemed to find it amusing. Roberta asked when our training would be finished, but before Laura could answer, I said, ‘We’re going into our second year in October.’

  Pat came through with the teapot and filled up our cups. The tea was sweet and hot and it warmed us up. The rain had turned to mist and it had turned much colder. She sat down beside me.

  ‘I love my training and it’s hard to believe that I’m now going into my second year. It just seems like yesterday when I started.’

  Roberta laughed. ‘Just wait till you’re teaching twenty unruly kids, then every day seems like a month. At least that’s what my sister tells me, as she’s a teacher.’

  When we looked at her with dismay, she laughed again. ‘Sorry, I’m just joking.’

  Later it was time for bed and to be honest we were all ready for it. My legs felt as if they were on fire. The bedroom held several bunk beds but because the hostel wasn’t full we had a choice. The room was cold, but once we were in bed I soon warmed up. Just before dropping off to sleep, Laura sighed loudly.

  ‘It’s freezing in here and I miss my warm, cosy bed at home. Whose idea was it to come on this holiday?’

  I heard the bed creaking as Pat sat up. She was indignant.

  ‘It was your idea, Laura, so stop moaning.’

  ‘I’m not moaning, I’m merely asking a rhetorical question.’

  I think I muttered, ‘It’s all your fault,’ but I can’t be sure because the next thing I remember was waking up with the sun shining through the window. Our three companions were already up and preparing breakfast, and after a quick wash we joined them.

  Cathy was clearing the table. ‘Well, where will you be heading today?’

  Laura piped up, ‘We’re hoping to go to Glenisla.’

  As they left, they called out, ‘Good luck on your travels.’

  Within the hour we were also on our way, glad the rain was off. It looked like it would be a promising day of sunshine. We seemed to pedal for ages, and after two hours I asked Laura if she knew where we were.

  ‘Look at the map?’ I suggested.

  Laura stopped and hunted in her saddlebag, but the map had disappeared.

  ‘I can’t find it.’ Then, as if she had had a brainwave, she groaned, ‘Oh no, I was looking at it last night and I think I’ve left it in the hostel.’

  I couldn’t believe we were lost, and as there were no signposts around we weren’t sure if we should turn back or go on. Suddenly a small van passed us and the driver stopped when we waved frantically at him. He looked bemused at us three girls with bikes who were not shipwrecked but lost on the country roads.

  Laura gave him a big smile. ‘We’re looking for the hostel at Glenisla.’

  ‘Aye, you’re on the right road, so just keep going and you’ll see the sign for the hostel.’

  It was teatime when we found the hostel, and we gratefully parked our bikes and entered the building. There was a warden in charge and she said we should have booked, but because it was late on the Sunday, most of the hostellers had left. We had enough sausages, bacon and eggs for our tea, but there would be nothing left for breakfast. We decided we would tackle that problem in the morning.

  Pat said we could easily cycle to her parents’ house the next day, where her mother would make something for us, and we agreed that would be wonderful. There was also the knowledge that we would know where we were, instead of cycling around the countryside like wandering minstrels.

  ‘I thought you would know your way around these roads, Pat,’ said Laura. ‘After all, you live in the area.’

  ‘Well, I’ve never been on this road before. I know the roads to Alyth, Blairgowrie and Forfar, and we sometimes go on the bus to Dundee, but although I know about Glenisla, Glenshee and Glen Doll I’ve never been to any of these places.’

  Laura sounded grumpy. ‘Well, I wish I had known that before making our travel plans, otherwise we could have gone somewhere else.’

  The next day on our journey we came across a house by the side of the road that was also a small shop. We bustled into the small room that held shelves filled with groceries. We quickly bought three Fry’s Chocolate Cream bars, three Mars bars and three bottles of lemonade. We sat down by the side of a stream and scoffed the lot.

  Much later we were relieved to see Pat’s house. Her mother looked surprised as she opened the door. Her hands were covered in flour, and the most delicious smell wafted out of the kitchen.

  Pat introduced us and said, ‘We were going youth hostelling, Mum, but we decided to come to see you and Dad.’ There was no mention of the missing map or the non-existent food in our bags.

  Pat’s mum was also called Pat, and she ushered us into a large kitchen, where a wooden table held wire racks of scones, pancakes and a large fruit cake.

  ‘Sit here at the table while I put the kettle on. It’s lucky it’s my baking day so there’s lots to eat. Your father is working on the hay, but he’ll be home for his supper.’

  There was a fire burning in the range, and a large tabby cat stretched out on the rug. It was so homely and welcoming and we gratefully sat around the table. To begin with, we politely ate one scone each before Mrs Hogan said to tuck in, as she was planning on baking some more. Well, we needed no second invitation and I felt the butter run down my fingers as I ate my fourth warm scone. In fact, we all ate so much that I seriously thought the wheels on my bike would collapse with all the extra weight.

  After finishing our fourth cup of tea, Pat said to her mother, ‘Can we stay here for the night, Mum?’

  I felt embarrassed at foisting ourselves on the poor woman, but she smiled and said it would be no bother at all.

  ‘You can sleep in your room, Pat, and Lizzie and Laura can have the spare room in the attic.’ She then carried another tray of home baking from the range and set it on the table. ‘Your dad will be home about seven, so we’ll have our supper then.’

  Pat said she would show us round the farm, so we set off into the farmyard, which had hens running around. We then walked up to the big house
, which looked magnificent, with its grey stone walls and shining windows.

  ‘Our farm is part of the estate and this is the owner’s house. They’re very nice people, who do a lot of entertaining, and there are lots of people who come to stay. Mum helps out with the cleaning and I work during the holidays.’

  I was amazed as I thought about the kitchen filled with home baking and now this extra heavy job on top of it.

  ‘What a lot of hard work for your mother, Pat.’

  ‘Yes, it is, and she seems to enjoy it, but she’s made sure I don’t end up like her. That’s why she encouraged me to go away to be a teacher. She said she didn’t get the chance for education, but she made sure I did.’

  It was seven o’clock when we heard the kitchen door opening and a man’s gruff voice call out, ‘I almost fell over three bikes, Pat. Who put them there?’

  Mrs Hogan shouted back, ‘We’ve got Pat and her two friends come to stay, Davie.’

  Davie came into the room in his stocking soles. He was a tall, gaunt-faced man with strong-looking sinewy arms that spoke of hard work and heavy lifting. His face lit up when he saw his daughter, and he smiled at me and Laura.

  ‘I’ll just get washed before supper,’ he said, as Pat brought out a large casserole dish of cottage pie and vegetables.

  ‘Supper’s on the table, Davie, so don’t be long.’

  In all the years that followed I have never forgotten those three glorious days we spent with the Hogans. Davie told us some hair-raising tales from the farm.

  ‘Aye, I mind one old chap who stood on a pitchfork and it went right through his foot. It was a right mess, I can tell you.’

  Pat’s mum said there was to be no more talk of the farm as she carried over a huge apple pie and custard for our pudding.

  Laura looked at it in amazement, and Pat, noticing the look, whispered to us, ‘Now you know why I’m so plump.’

  Davie went to bed at nine o’clock, as he said he had to be at work by five o’clock the next morning, but we stayed up until ten before making our way up to our attic bedroom. It was a lovely room, with a tiny window that overlooked the fields beyond, and the double bed with a plump pink quilt on the top looked so comfy.

  Laura sighed with pleasure as she got into bed. ‘What a great holiday, Lizzie.’

  As I got in beside her and snuggled down, I agreed.

  After another couple of days of overeating, it was time to leave. We thanked Pat for all her hospitality.

  ‘It’s no bother, my dears. Pat’s told me how much you’ve helped her at the college and it’s been a pleasure to have met you.’

  We then set off on the road home. It was a pity Pat had to return the bike, as she had to be back at the farm afterwards, but she said she would enjoy the last day of the holiday before catching the bus back to Kirriemuir.

  When I arrived back home, Mum and Granny were having their tea. Mum said I was sunburned and asked if I had enjoyed my trip before adding, ‘There’s some food in the oven for you.’

  After all the food I had eaten, I said, ‘No thanks, Mum, I’ve had my tea.’

  Pat had left her bike at Laura’s house and we went to see her off on her bus. ‘We’ll see you in October, Pat,’ we said, as the bus set off.

  We returned the bikes the following day and the holiday faded into a lovely memory.

  22

  A HOLIDAY BY THE SEA

  At the end of July Granny announced that we should have a holiday. Mum had been suffering from a sore throat and a bad cold, so Granny suggested a few days by the seaside.

  ‘We can maybe go to Broughty Ferry or Carnoustie,’ she said. ‘That way Beth won’t have to travel far.’

  To start with, Mum was against the idea, but Granny went ahead and booked the three of us into a small guest house in the Ferry that had been recommended by one of her friends from the church.

  We set off on the Friday morning with our two suitcases, while I had the money belt I had bought to go on the cycling trip. Laura had laughed at the time, but I felt it was a great idea and saved me putting any cash in the saddlebag.

  The guest house was on the Esplanade and had a wonderful sea view, and with the sun shining on the river the water shimmered in the noon heat. Mum was still coughing as we arrived, but she seemed impressed by the view.

  Mrs Robb, the owner of Ferryview, opened the door and welcomed us with a smile. ‘I’ve got the rooms ready for you, and after you’ve unpacked please come down to the dining room for your dinner.’

  The food was plain but very tasty, and afterwards Mum said she would like a look at the town and Granny went with her. I had brought my college studies with me, but it was too nice a day to have my head stuck in a book, so I went for a walk towards the castle.

  There were lots of benches facing the water, but most of them were filled with visitors. I walked towards the beach but it was also crowded with families enjoying the sunshine. I strolled further along until the beach gave way to grassy dunes, and there was a lone empty seat.

  I sat and watched boats sailing towards the North Sea, my head full of plans for the future. After the end of the training course I knew I had to go to one of the Education Department’s schools, but hopefully after teaching there I would be free to travel overseas.

  Filled with my dreams of travel, I retraced my steps, stopping at a kiosk by the beach and buying an ice cream. I had to fiddle with the cash in my belt, but it was great not to have to carry a handbag.

  When I arrived back at Ferryview, Mum had gone to bed with two aspirin and Granny was in the lounge knitting. She held up a ball of blue wool. ‘I found the most wonderful wool shop in the town, so I bought this. Beth’s throat is still sore, so she went for a lie down, but she said she would be down for her tea.’ She stopped knitting and looked at me. ‘I’m really worried about your Mum, Lizzie. She always looks so pale and I don’t think she eats as well as she should.’

  I said I was worried as well, but Mum was really stubborn when anyone mentioned going to the doctor. ‘If this sore throat lasts much longer,’ I said, ‘then I’m going to make her get medical help.’

  Granny’s needles clicked as she knitted something that resembled a five inch length of blue stitches. ‘It’s a great pity she’s never got over Peter’s death, but I’ve read there are hundreds of families still mourning their lost sons, husband, fathers and sweethearts.’

  Up till then I had been engrossed in my studies, but suddenly the spectre of the day we learned Dad was missing came back and I felt a shiver up my spine. I looked over at Granny, but she was now studying a pattern.

  She saw me looking and held up the paper. ‘It’s a baby’s matinee jacket.’

  I mumbled something like, ‘It’s lovely,’ but the afternoon had been spoiled by bad memories.

  Later Mum appeared. Her face was flushed, as if she had a fever, but she managed to eat most of her tea, which was fish and chips with bread and butter and a huge pot of tea.

  Mrs Robb said she normally served cocoa and biscuits before bedtime, but I was the only one who went downstairs, as I didn’t want the woman to be left with her pot of cocoa.

  The next day wasn’t so hot. Granny said she needed more wool and asked if we wanted to go with her into town. I thought Mum was going to refuse, so I said I would come, but as we were leaving Mum appeared and we set off. A breeze was blowing from the river, and the smell was invigorating as we made our way up the street.

  We spent ages in the wool shop with Granny, chatting to the assistant and buying more wool, before deciding to go into a café. It was quite busy, but we found a table and Granny ordered tea and scones while Mum gazed listlessly out of the window. I noticed Granny giving her a concerned look before the waitress brought our order.

  Back at the guest house, Mum said she would go for a lie-down and Granny sat at the window of the lounge with her knitting.

  ‘I’m going for a walk,’ I said, and I made my way back to the dunes and the empty bench. Hordes of seagul
ls were flying overhead, and I imagined myself on a boat with seabirds swooping and wheeling as the ship ploughed through the ocean waves to some magical faraway land.

  I was brought back to earth as I looked at my wristwatch and saw it was time for our midday meal. Mum didn’t come down for that, but she did appear for tea, and Granny and I thought she looked much better.

  ‘Yes, my sore throat has gone and I feel a bit better,’ she said.

  We left after breakfast the next morning, but I was pleased to see Mum had some colour in her cheeks, and she said she was looking forward to going back to work.

  When we arrived back at Victoria Road, I was already missing the smell of the salty air, and the noise from the street was so different from the Ferry. Tramcars clanged up and down while carts filled with bales of jute and pulled by huge Clydesdale horses clattered up towards the jute mills on Dens Road.

  Before we had left to go away to the Ferry, I had arranged to go to the pictures with Laura and we were to meet at the Plaza. I saw her hurrying up the hill and she arrived all flustered with a red face.

  ‘I’ve managed to get a wee job in the grocer’s shop downstairs from the house,’ she said as we went in to buy our tickets. ‘It’s just for a few weeks till the start of the new term at college, but it’ll help me out with money.’

  I was slightly envious. ‘Oh, that’s great, Laura. I wish I could get a job as well, but there’s so many folk unemployed that I don’t think that will happen.’

  She nodded as we headed for our seats. ‘I know I’m lucky, but it’s just for three hours in the afternoon and it’ll only last for the next few weeks.’

  Later as we headed home down the hill, her face went red as she said, ‘There’s this super-looking young lad working in the shop and he’s asked me out to the pictures one night.’

  I stopped and looked at her. ‘I think you’re blushing, Laura. Are you going to go out with him?’