The Laird of Lochandee

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘I didn’t need patience! Come to think of it, I didn’t need anything. You’re a natural lover boy, Conan Maxwell. I just hope you will not be too free with your charms though – for your own sake,’ she added seriously. ‘You wouldn’t be the first attractive man to be trapped into marriage by an unscrupulous hussy who tells you she is expecting your child. And then there’s these diseases some women pass on …’

  ‘I can afford to be choosy now,’ Conan said, equally serious. ‘I can promise you I shall not take any woman if I cannot respect her as I respect you, Beth.’

  ‘Thank you, Conan, you make me feel a bit better about deceiving Harry.’

  ‘I don’t know about this thing called love though.’

  ‘You will when you experience it!’ Beth assured him softly. ‘And it’s a whole lot more than sex, I can tell you.’

  ‘Is it?’ Conan asked sceptically, thinking of the conversations of some of the men he had overheard.

  ‘Oh, there has to be desire and passion – of course there has. But to spend the rest of your life with a person … It – it’s like meeting someone with the mirror-image of your own soul, sharing your thoughts and feelings and interests. Not that you can expect to agree all of the time about everything. In fact that would make life a bit dull I reckon, and the making up is fun.’ She chuckled. ‘But you have to be comfortable together … You’ll know when you fall in love.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for that. You and Harry always seem happy. Mother and Father must love each other …’

  ‘They do, believe me,’ Beth assured him. ‘They’ve been good friends to me. I’d hate them to think I had betrayed their trust and seduced their son. You promise you’ll never tell a living soul about what happened between us tonight, Conan?’

  ‘I promise. See,’ he reached for the bible laying on the chest of drawers beside the bed, and laid his hand on it. ‘As God is my witness I shall never mention what happened to night to anyone, unless it’s at your request.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Beth smiled and put her hand on top of his where it lay on the bible. ‘I think we shall always be friends, Conan.’

  ‘Of course we shall.’ He leaned forward and kissed her cheek. ‘Good night, Beth.’

  ‘You’ll take care cycling home? It’s dark outside. There’s been a lot of accidents since the blackout.’

  ‘I’ll be careful.’

  On Monday morning the postman brought the usual weekly letter from Meg, but it was much longer than it had been recently.

  ‘Oh no!’ Rachel gasped. ‘The twins are going abroad to nurse. Peter will be upset. They have done so well with their training. What a blessing Polly took up teaching. At least she will be staying in Glasgow and she does enjoy it.’

  ‘Yes,’ Conan nodded. ‘I remember it was always what she wanted to do. I imagine she’ll be good at it. But somebody has to nurse the wounded soldiers. I wonder whether Jane and Mary will be sent to the same hospital?’

  ‘No. Meg says Mary will be staying in London for a while to do some special training. Jane is going to France straight away.’

  ‘Who is your other letter from?’ Ross asked, looking up from his own letters.

  ‘Ruth. She says wee Josh has passed his medical for the Army but their own doctor wrote a letter to the authorities explaining that Willie was suffering from a stomach complaint and he needs Josh at home to run the farm.’

  ‘I expect they would have let him off anyway,’ Ross nodded. ‘After all he is in a reserved occupation and the Government are crying out for food since the German U-boats started attacking any and every cargo ship they see.’

  ‘Even for us the rationing takes a lot of getting used to, especially now the Government are controlling the number of pigs we can kill and what we do with the eggs and milk and butter.’ Neither of them noticed how Conan’s face had paled as he rose from the breakfast table and went outside to get on with his work.

  Damn cousin Josh! he thought. He was staying at home and his father would be even more angry when his own call-up papers came.

  A couple of days later, shortly before his eighteenth birthday, Conan received the expected letter from the Royal Air Force. Later that evening he broke the news to Bridie.

  ‘You volunteered?’ Her eyes were round with shock. ‘You go so soon …’ The tears Conan dreaded made her eyes luminous as she struggled to hold them back. ‘What will Mother say …’

  ‘I’ll tell them both, but not until I’m ready. I want you to do me a favour, Bridie. Will you call in on Beth on your way home from school tomorrow afternoon? Tell her I leave Lochandee the day after tomorrow. You’ll not forget?’

  When Bridie called at Beth’s cottage she found her in the cleared front workshop. She was painting the walls with yellow distemper. The floor had already been scrubbed twice and all the shelves and the old workbench had gone.

  ‘Goodness it doesn’t look like the shop at all!’ Bride exclaimed wandering around. It seems so much bigger. Lighter too.’ She looked through the door where Mr Pearson had once kept his papers and special small tools, an armchair and a small table. ‘I always thought this was a sort of cupboard but it’s quite big now it’s empty.’

  ‘Aye,’ Beth sighed and wiped a weary arm across her brow. She had worked really hard since the evening she had spent with Conan. She knew at least part of the thrill had been due to forbidden fruits. Conan was a handsome lad and he was strong and virile, but it was not something either of them would repeat, or wish to. She had thrown herself into the task of cleaning and decorating the shop end of the cottage hoping to banish the twinges of guilt she felt whenever she thought of Harry. He did not deserve an unfaithful wife, and him away fighting for his country.

  ‘You’ve painted the ceilings white. What are you going to put in it, Beth?’

  ‘Yes, I thought I might try making a pattern with a sponge and green distemper on the walls. I’ve volunteered to take in some evacuees.’

  ‘Evacuees? But I thought most of them went back home again.’

  ‘I know, but they are only sending families who want to be evacuated this time. I’m having a mother and two young children. Their father is in the Royal Navy. I want it to look as nice and as pretty as I can make it for them. It must be awful having to leave everything behind.’

  ‘Yes.’ Bridie remembered the reason for her visit. ‘Conan is going to the Royal Air Force.’ Her voice trembled. ‘He l-leaves tomorrow.’

  ‘Ah, I see. He has got his papers then?’ Beth nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘You knew!’ Bridie’s eyes widened. ‘You knew he had volunteered?’

  ‘Y-yes. I promised to go up to the farm whenever he got word to leave. Your parents will need all the help they can get. I thought it was a good time for me to start work again – try to replace him a wee bit, maybe comfort your Mother …’

  ‘Oh, Beth!’ Bridie suddenly flung herself into Beth’s arms and wept. ‘You’re so good to us. You must be missing Harry terribly. War is a dreadful thing!’

  ‘Hey, let me put my brush down, Bridie, or you’ll be having yellow streaks in your hair!’

  Bridie strove for control and brushed away her tears with the back of her hand.

  ‘I wish Mother would let me leave school now that I’m fourteen. I could help such a lot. They say the new land girls all wear breeches and they are learning to plough and do all the things the men usually do.’

  ‘Aye,’ Beth sighed, ‘We shall all have to learn to do things we never thought possible if this war goes on.’ She frowned. ‘I just wish Harry would write and tell me where he is. I know he has been sent abroad but I don’t know where. I’ve only had one short letter and it was forwarded on from a central office in England.’

  The moment Conan had dreaded arrived. He had already arranged to leave his cycle at one of the cottages at the crossroads. Bridie had promised to get Fiona Sinclair to ride it halfway to the village after school.

  ‘There’s no need for you to waste petrol giving me a l
ift in the car, Mother,’ he insisted. Now that the time had come to actually leave Lochandee and all his friends and family he was half afraid he might break down himself. There was no way he could bear his mother’s tears on the journey to the station.

  It had been hard enough saying good-bye to Alice Beattie. She had wrung her hands over and over again in her distress. For the first time Conan realised how old and frail she had become.

  ‘They have made Mr Winston Churchill the Prime Minister,’ her voice quavered, ‘but have they done it in time? Nothing to offer, he says, except “blood, toil, tears and sweat” …’ She seemed so sure she would never see him again and the thought upset Conan more than he had realised. ‘May God go with you, laddie,’ she had whispered huskily. He had hugged her thin shoulders and left the room swiftly before she saw the tears glinting in his own eyes. How much worse it was going to be saying good bye to his parents.

  Rachel understood. She felt as though her own heart was breaking but she was not alone. Every day thousands of women must feel the same agony and she was determined to make the parting as easy for him as possible. She must be cheerful, she must hold back the tears – at least until he was out of the house.

  If only Ross would let him go without making a scene. She had seen the utter shock in his face when Conan broke the news that he would be leaving today. She knew Ross had convinced himself that his only son accepted the demands of farming Lochandee. She had known better. She had sensed the preoccupation in Conan, the intensity in his eyes when there were reports of another ship sunk and lives lost, or another aircraft missing. She had known he would not be content to let the war go on without him.

  So she hugged Conan tightly, promised they would all write often, and hoped he would write whenever he could. His face was pale and strained.

  ‘Don’t come outside, Mother,’ he pleaded huskily.

  ‘But your father …’

  ‘He’s waiting to say – to say goodbye.’

  Rachel nodded dumbly. She felt the tension in him. Then he was gone, round the corner of the house, into the yard, out of her sight. She clenched her hands tightly but she could not stand still. One final wave, a last glimpse of the child she had reared to manhood. She ran to the corner of house and stopped short seeing Conan and Ross facing each other. How alike they were – one older and broader, but handsome still, the other with the same direct gaze, the erect shoulders, square and strong, but still so slim. They were not quarrelling and she saw Conan’s wavering smile before he half turned. She guessed he was holding onto his emotions with an iron will.

  Rachel watched in astonishment as Ross pulled Conan into his arms in a fierce hug. She saw the tears spill from Ross’s eyes – Ross who never showed emotion in front of his children or friends.

  ‘My son.’ He had his eyes screwed tightly shut. ‘My son... I am proud of you.’ Another hug. ‘God keep you safe …’ Rachel did not wait for more. She could not see Conan’s face, or read the words on his lips, but her heart was full. She was so thankful that the two men she loved were parting with affection and respect.

  It was some minutes before she heard Ross’s booted feet approaching the house. She guessed he had needed time to compose himself but as soon as she saw him she flung herself into his arms and her own pent-up emotions overflowed like a river in flood.

  ‘Hush, Rachel,’ Ross soothed huskily, stroking her hair as though she were a child, patting her shoulder. ‘You were very brave …’ He laid his cheek against the softness of her hair ‘Braver than I was, I fear,’ he murmured sadly. ‘So many things I should have said. My only son, and I have let him go …never told him how dear he is …’

  Rachel controlled her sobs with an effort as she heard the anguish in Ross’s voice and felt him holding her tightly, his cheek against her hair, his breath soft and warm against her temple. She burrowed her arms beneath his jacket and hugged him, pressing her head against the hardness of his chest, feeling the imprint of his waistcoat buttons against her face.

  ‘I do love you, Ross.’ Her voice was low and tremulous but he heard.

  ‘I know,’ he murmured huskily. ‘I love you too. In fact I don’t know how I could manage without you …’ His arms tightened and she felt him shudder against her.

  ‘You will not have to. I’m not going anywhere.’

  ‘Thank God for that! It’s only now that I truly understand how cruel this war is to all the thousands of families that are split apart … husbands and wives, parents and children …’ His arms clenched. It was not like Ross to be so emotional, or at least he rarely let his feelings show. ‘Let’s go upstairs …?’ he whispered.

  ‘Now?’ Rachel leaned back in his arms, staring up into his face. ‘In the middle of the day …?’ She was incredulous. It was just the comfort and loving she needed to get her through the rest of the day. ‘How did you know …?’ she whispered, ‘that I need you to love me?’

  ‘Because I need loving too …’ Ross bent to unlace his boots.

  The rest of the day passed in a haze of joy and sorrow for Rachel. Ross had made her feel like a young desirable girl again. Together they had found comfort, but they had more, so very much more in the exultant triumph, the ultimate fulfilment. All the tensions and arguments evaporated. They were united in their love for each other. Whatever happened in the future, so long as they had each other, surely they could endure and survive.

  Just after midday Beth cycled up the road to The Glens of Lochandee.

  ‘I thought you might be ready for another pair of hands,’ she greeted Rachel, but her smile was wan.

  ‘Oh Beth, we do need all the help we can get, especially now Conan has gone. But …’ Rachel looked at her more closely. ‘you are looking pale and tired. Are you all right? Harry …?’

  ‘I’m fine. I’ve been working extra hard to get the cottage ready for the arrival of my evacuee family. If I only knew where Harry is. I feel here …’ she clasped a hand to her heart, that he is in danger somewhere.’ Her voice trembled but she pulled herself together and took a deep breath.

  Chapter Thirty

  THE NEW GOVERNMENT UNDER Winston Churchill, with Clement Attlee as deputy Prime Minister, made sweeping changes. They worked for the good of the Country and made an effort to gain support from all quarters, including that of Ernest Bevin, the trade union leader, and Lord Beaverbrook, the newspaper owner. New measures gave the Government unlimited authority over every person and all property.

  ‘Even the banks!’ Ross read in alarm. ‘I hope Mr Reid will not withdraw our loan. Even with Beth’s help I don’t know how we are going to manage the work with all the extra ploughing the War Agricultural Committee is demanding.’

  ‘We’ll get through. Bridie is a great help. She keeps pestering me to let her leave school. We shall have more eggs than ever before with all the broody hens we have sitting on eggs. That’s one advantage about the government controls, they guarantee to take all we can produce. Now that the eggs are collected and sent to a central packing station we know we shall be paid for them – so long as we don’t surrender to the Germans.’

  ‘Only God will help us if it comes to that,’ Ross shuddered. He reached for Rachel’s hand. ‘You’re a great support to me.’ His gaze held hers and there was a world of love and desire in his blue eyes. He had been so gentle and attentive since Conan went away. Rachel suspected he was missing their son as much as she was, but it was wonderful to find comfort in each other, talking together, walking together – almost as they had been when they were young lovers at Windlebrae. Poor Beth didn’t even have that consolation.

  ‘I reckon the hens should make enough money to pay the wages and everything we need in the house, or at least everything we are allowed to buy with all the rationing,’ Rachel said.

  ‘If anyone does manage to make a profit the Government have the power to charge a hundred per cent tax now – but I suppose we are better to pay towards our own freedom than be taken over by a dictator like Hitler.’

&n
bsp; ‘We would all be slaves, if that happened, and lucky if we got enough food and a coat for our backs.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ross sighed. ‘I should never have opposed Conan as I did. He understood what was going on better than we did. Where would the Country be without young men like him?’

  It was the middle of June before Beth received the longed for letter direct from Harry and she peddled up the road to Lochandee as though she had wings, so great was her joy and relief.

  ‘He says he is one of the lucky ones!’ she told Rachel breathlessly. ‘He does not give many details, but at least it sounds more like my Harry. He says he was rescued from Dunkirk on a little fishing boat. He was plucked from the enemy just in time. A lot of his comrades have not been so lucky.’ Beth wiped tears from her cheeks with the back of her hand. ‘I’m so relieved he’s safe. I just knew he was in danger. His letters never seemed to reply to any of the things I asked him, or told him. I knew mine were going to a central address somewhere and I couldn’t write a proper letter when I knew some strange man might be censoring it.’

  ‘I expect Harry felt the same,’ Rachel comforted her. ‘and I suppose there would be lots of delays. Now you can tell him how much you miss him. Does he know his cottage has been taken over by evacuees?’

  ‘No, not yet. I’ve such a lot of things to tell him. I think he will like Carol, though. She’s fitting into the village very well and she keeps the cottage clean and tidy and does all the washing and ironing while I am here at Lochandee. She says keeping busy helps to take her mind off John, her husband. The wee girls are lovely …’ Beth added wistfully. She bit her lip and turned away.

  She had not told Harry that she had failed again, even after his last leave with all the passionate urgency of their lovemaking. Suddenly she stopped in the middle of the yard. Her hand flew to her mouth. Her monthly rhythms were always so regular. Could the anxiety over Harry have altered them? Certainly she had felt lethargic and tired, but then she had been so worried. Worry affected things, didn’t it? She frowned making mental calculations, but there was no doubt she was overdue. It was only a week. It would probably all sort itself out now that her mind was easier. Even so some instinct prevented Beth from mentioning babies when she wrote a long and loving letter to Harry.