Highland Sisters

by Anne Douglas

  ‘You’ve still got friends, Joan. You’ve still got me.’ Rosa put her hand on Joan’s. ‘And I was thinking, Joan – you could come down to stay with me when you’re sorted out, you know. You’d have a change of scene; it would do you good.’

  ‘Rosa, I’d like that,’ Joan answered quickly. ‘When I’ve sorted things out, as you say. Oh, yes, as soon as I can, I’ll come to Edinburgh, if you’re sure you want me.’

  ‘Of course I want you! As soon as you feel like coming, be in touch, eh?’

  ‘And I won’t be getting in the way?’ Joan, preparing the teapot, smiled a little. ‘Won’t upset the artist, will I?’

  ‘Joan, the only man I’m interested in is Daniel,’ Rosa said quietly. ‘Still.’

  ‘Of course,’ Joan agreed quickly. ‘Of course, Rosa.’

  All the same, it was good to have Jack meet her train – the third time he’d tried to find the right one, he admitted – and to be aware of his sympathy and practical help as well as his pleasure at welcoming her home. Finding a taxi, carrying her bag, even declaring his intention of boiling her kettle and making her tea (except that dear Molly was already on the scene, ready to do that for her), he couldn’t have been more thoughtful.

  ‘Molly – Jack – you two must meet each other,’ Rosa declared. ‘Jack, this is my good friend and neighbour, Mrs Calder. Molly, this is Mr Durno, the artist I told you I once worked for.’

  ‘Also a good friend, I hope,’ Jack said easily. ‘Mrs Calder, I’ve heard a lot about you – all of it good.’

  ‘I’m very pleased to meet you,’ she told him, clearly pleased at meeting the famous artist at last. ‘If I go to the galleries, can I see your paintings?’

  ‘Only if you like modern art,’ Jack said with a laugh. ‘Rosa here has only just got used to it and still isn’t sure about it, isn’t that right, Rosa?’

  But when he looked across to her, she was lying back, looking so weary, his face changed as he took on anxiety for her and he rose to touch her hand and say he must go, she needed to rest.

  ‘Oh, she does,’ cried Molly, rising hastily herself. ‘I must go and all, but let me know if you need anything, Rosa. I’ve left some things in your larder, anyways.’

  ‘You’re so good, Molly – I’ll just get my bag, settle up with you—’

  ‘Nae bother, Rosa – don’t want you worrying about that now. You just get some rest and knock on ma door when you feel better. Mr Durno – it was grand meeting you. I’ll no’ be forgetting to see your paintings when I can, eh?’

  ‘And forgive me if you find ’em too crazy.’ Jack, shaking Molly’s hand, laughed again, then was serious as he thanked her for all she’d done for Rosa.

  ‘I can tell Rosa has a good friend here,’ he said earnestly. ‘Isn’t that so, Rosa?’

  ‘Och, I’ll be going!’ Molly cried, blushing as she made for the door. ‘Rosa, you’ll come round, eh? Soon as you feel like it?’

  ‘So goodhearted,’ Rosa murmured when she and Jack were alone. ‘I don’t know what I’d do without her. Or you, Jack.’

  ‘I only wish I could do more. You’re looking so sad, Rosa – not surprising, of course, in view of the present circumstances.’

  ‘It’s not just my circumstances, Jack. I saw a newspaper headline on the train – so many killed at the battle of Cambrae, I can’t stop thinking about it. So much useless slaughter …’ Her voice trembled. ‘So many young men gone, like Daniel.’ Raising her great dark eyes to Jack’s concerned face, Rosa whispered, ‘When will it end, Jack? When will it all end?’

  Sixty-Nine

  When will it all end? Rosa had asked. It was the question on everyone’s lips and only answered on the eleventh day of the eleventh month in 1918 when, after Germany had been defeated on the Western Front, an armistice was declared between Germany and the United Kingdom. Now, at last, as the poets put it, the guns could fall silent. Casualty lists were no longer needed and, after four long years, loved ones were no longer at risk.

  Even so, it took a long time to accept that hostilities had ended, that the war was really over, that there would be no more killing. In fact, for some, the truth had to be faced that the armistice had come too late, that their loved ones would not be coming home at all.

  Jack, watching Rosa one dismal November afternoon, knew that the truth was being faced by her and that her thoughts were not on her present drawing of autumn leaves but with Daniel, for whom the armistice had come too late. And with the knowledge of her sorrow, Jack’s own feelings of anger could only deepen.

  ‘Why didn’t it happen before?’ he demanded, pacing his studio. ‘If it could happen now, why not Christmas 1914 when some were actually predicting that the war would end?’

  His thin face flushed with anger, his blue eyes snapping at the thought of the generals he blamed for wasting so many lives, Jack seemed so unable at that moment to find calm that Rosa left her easel to go to him.

  ‘Jack, Jack, settle down,’ she told him. ‘It was wrong that the war should ever have been allowed to happen, but now, at last, it’s over.’ She paused, her eyes filling with tears, and sighed. ‘And no one else, thank God, will have to face those telegrams.’

  Gently shaking his left arm, she gave Jack a long, sympathetic look, hoping he would listen to her and stop working himself up into a rage which would do no one any good. After all, she was nursing heartache herself, knowing that Daniel’s death might have been avoided if the top brass on either side had just got together and talked, as it seemed they’d been talking now. How many lives might have been saved? How many would have been spared blindness and disfigurements, or nightmares they would never forget? How many wives would have been spared widowhood and their children the loss of their fathers?

  ‘Come on, Jack,’ Rosa said gently. ‘You’ve every right to feel bitterness that this armistice has come too late for you, but let’s be glad other men will be saved from going to war. So, we’ll just get on with our painting, eh? You’re supposed to be giving me a lesson, don’t forget.’

  ‘Feel more like going to a pub and drowning my sorrows,’ Jack said with a sigh. ‘But you’re right – we have to be glad for what’s happened, even if it should have happened long ago. Don’t ask me to celebrate, though. There’s been too much sadness for that.’

  As Rosa made no reply, only looked away, her eyes still full of tears, Jack took her hand.

  ‘I know what you’ve been through,’ he said awkwardly, ‘believe me, I do. Losing the love of your life. I know what that must have meant. I only have to think of how I would feel if …’ He shook his head. ‘If anything happened to you.’

  ‘Nothing’s going to happen to me,’ Rosa said uneasily, aware that Jack seemed to be leading them away from their usual easy-going talk towards somewhere she wasn’t sure she wanted to follow. She knew he loved her, he had told her long ago, but somehow he had kept the intensity of his feelings to himself and they had remained on friendly terms, which was easier all round. For some time there was silence between them, only eventually being broken by Rosa, who suggested that Jack might like to look at her drawing, then she must be thinking about going home.

  ‘Not before Mrs Milner brings our tea,’ he said quickly. ‘She’ll be here any minute.’

  ‘Mrs Milner,’ Rosa repeated, considering Jack’s kindly and easy-going housekeeper. ‘What a difference to Miss Ferguson, isn’t she? So easy, so calm?’

  ‘Like you, Rosa. So easy, so calm. But come to think of it, I used to be pretty calm myself, can you believe it? Now that the war’s over, maybe I’ll get back to being like that again. There’ll be changes anyway, won’t there? Now that we only have to worry about picking up the pieces.’

  ‘Changes? For us? I don’t see why. I don’t see why anything should change.’

  ‘You don’t?’

  ‘Well, no. Do you?’

  Jack, studying her intently, seemed to be considering his reply with particular care when the door opened and Mrs Milner appeared with the
ir tea tray.

  ‘Oh, Mrs MacNeil, there you are!’ she cried. ‘I’ve put some of my sultana scones out for you – I know you like them, eh? You too, Mr Durno – you always seem to know when I’ve made a few because there you are behind my back, sneaking one or two before they’ve even cooled out of the oven! Oh, but they can count as a celebration for our grand armistice, eh? I’d never heard that word before but I know what it means now – it means peace on earth, eh? Just like in the carol. But I’d better go and leave you to your work. Enjoy your tea, now!’

  Away she went as Jack and Rosa helped themselves to scones, exchanging smiles at the housekeeper’s flow of words, which Jack said didn’t bother him in the least.

  ‘She knows not to talk when I’m working, walks about as though she’s on tiptoe, but I let her talk when I’m not doing much. She’s so good-hearted, like your friend, Molly. I know I’m damn lucky to have found her.’

  His gaze fixed on Rosa’s face, and Jack reached forward and took her hand. ‘And you,’ he said quietly, ‘I’m lucky to have found you. You may not realize it, but you pretty well saved my life after I lost my arm.’

  ‘Don’t, Jack, don’t talk of that. You were never going to …’ As Rosa hesitated, he laughed.

  ‘Do away with myself, do you mean? Well, I don’t know that I’d ever have actually done that. Just felt like it sometimes.’

  ‘Jack, please don’t speak of it.’

  ‘It’s all right, it didn’t happen.’ Jack shrugged. ‘And won’t now, I promise you.’

  Still holding Rosa’s hand, he looked long and seriously into her face before saying in a voice so low she could scarcely hear it, ‘Now that I’ve begun to hope, I mean.’

  ‘Jack, let’s not—’

  ‘What? Not talk of the future, you mean? Everyone’s got to have hope for their future, Rosa. You can’t go on without it.’

  ‘I know, but I don’t think we should – you know, be getting involved now …’

  ‘Too soon?’

  When she did not reply, he shrugged, then somehow found a smile.

  ‘Yes,’ he said quietly. ‘Forgive me, Rosa, it’s too soon. I do understand, believe me. I know we have to wait. Just don’t give me up while we’re waiting. Promise me.’

  ‘I promise, Jack.’

  Gently pulling her from her chair, he kissed her briefly and told her he would take her home.

  ‘I’m glad we talked, Rosa. It’s good that we did. For me, anyway.’

  ‘Next time, you must look at my drawings,’ she told him. ‘I know I’ve still a lot to learn.’

  ‘Rosa, you’re very talented. I mean it. You’ve a successful future ahead of you.’

  But Rosa only smiled and said maybe, but for now she’d like to get home. No need for Jack to come with her, she certainly knew her way.

  ‘You know it’s my pleasure to take you home, Rosa. Just wish …’ Jack sighed. ‘Just wish you needn’t go.’

  ‘I must, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I know, I know. Don’t mind me. Sometimes I lose my head. Think how it would be, you know, if it wasn’t too soon to say … what I want to say.’

  He looked so woebegone as her eyes went over his face, she felt a sudden strange wish to make him happy as she knew only she could. Dear Jack. They’d been through so much; each in their way had faced such heartbreak – was it time at last to look for happiness? Not the happiness she’d shared with Daniel, that couldn’t be expected, but the sort of love that came from giving, from opening the heart to another’s longing …

  ‘What would you like to say?’ she heard herself asking in a whisper, and felt Jack’s start of surprise as his eyes widened and his hands on her arms tightened, and couldn’t help smiling that he, who was never lost for words, could find none now to tell her what she already of course knew. He loved her. What more could he say?

  Only what men usually said, or rather asked, after they’d declared love.

  ‘Rosa, will you marry me?’ he asked, still holding Rosa’s arms, his hands trembling. ‘Not now – it’s like we said, too soon, and I’m not asking that you’ll love me the way you loved Daniel. It’s to be understood that that love was different. But I promise you that I’ll do all I can to make you happy. It’ll be all I want to do, I swear, if you’ll be willing to accept me.’

  Still in wonder at her sudden intention to make him happy, she went willingly into his arms and, as they clung together, Jack, after looking long and deeply into her face, asked, his lips against her cheek, if she would make him the happiest man in the world? To which she made no reply. Somehow, it didn’t seem necessary.

  Seventy

  Of course, life didn’t just change overnight because a four-year war had ended. There’d been difficulties caused by that war, not just the tragedies of loss that so many had had to endure, but continuing shortages, for example, particularly of food, and they lingered on for months, not only in defeated Germany and other parts of Europe, but also in victorious Britain. It was just as well, the British people said, that they’d grown used to queuing and going without during the war, when in a way the fact that they were the victors made it harder to accept the difficulties.

  ‘As though they matter!’ cried Jack. ‘We should think ourselves lucky we’re at peace. That’s all that matters.’ But then he shook his head as he and Rosa patrolled the Botanic Gardens on a summer’s day in 1920 and gave a wry smile. ‘Not quite all,’ he amended. ‘There are other things that matter. To me, anyway.’

  ‘Your painting,’ suggested Rosa. ‘That’s a first for you. I think it’s wonderful that you are doing so well. Everyone says so.’

  ‘You’re doing well too. Quite successful, aren’t you, these days? With your postcard work?’

  ‘Amateur stuff, Jack. It’s not to be compared with what you do. If I can make a bit of money with it, that’s all I want, but you’re one for the art books, aren’t you? And people want you for lecture tours and all sorts of things, don’t they?’

  ‘The most recent offer is for a tour of America.’

  ‘America?’ As they approached a bench, Rosa pointed and said they should sit down so he could tell her all about his offer. ‘I didn’t even know about it, Jack. Were you keeping it a secret?’

  ‘In a way, because I know I should accept and I don’t want to.’ As his eyes rested on Rosa, Jack’s face had taken on the sort of look she knew went with something serious and she braced herself to find the right thing to say, at the same time becoming aware that she was anxious for him not to leave her. These days, they were such loving companions, what would she do without him?

  ‘What are you going to do?’ she asked after a silence. ‘Shall you go to America?’

  ‘Not without you, Rosa.’

  She laughed. ‘Well, I can’t go!’

  ‘Can’t you?’

  ‘Why, whatever would they think? The two of us going there together?’

  ‘If we were married, there’d be no problem.’

  ‘Yes, but we’re not married, Jack, are we?’

  She had been looking down but raised her eyes to him and saw that he was suddenly looking anxious and caught her hands.

  ‘Could change that,’ he whispered. ‘Could change that very soon. Because it’s not too soon now, is it? Remember that the time when we said it was? Tell me it’s true, Rosa. Things are different now, aren’t they? Please, for God’s sake, tell me they are!’

  ‘Yes, of course they are. But I can’t forget Daniel.’

  ‘I know, I understand. That love is special; you could never love me in the same way. But I’m not asking that you should. I’m a different man from Daniel. My love for you is different from his, and what you feel for me will be different too. Not so strong, maybe, but it’s there, isn’t it? Your feelings for me?’

  She did not hesitate. ‘Yes, Jack, it is. I think it has been for some time, only I didn’t realize it.’

  ‘I was just dear old Jack?’ he asked lightly. ‘Someone you were used to?’<
br />
  ‘Someone I cared for.’ Rosa hesitated, searching for the right words. ‘Someone I know now I cared for … very much.’

  A long, long silence fell, so long it seemed neither could break it, but Jack at last took Rosa in his arms and, smoothing back her hair, asked quietly, ‘Cared enough for to be my partner, Rosa?’

  ‘As you’ll be mine, Jack.’

  He gave a long, blissful sigh. ‘Will you marry me, then? You never have answered me on that. If you do you won’t regret it. I swear I’ll do all I can to make you happy. And I’ll never expect you to think of me as another Daniel. Dear old Jack will do.’

  ‘No,’ she told him with decision, ‘it won’t. You’ll never be just dear old Jack to me. Perhaps you were once. Not now. We’ll be what you said we’d be just now – partners.’

  ‘Partners in art, partners in love. We’ll be married as soon as we can arrange it?’

  ‘So that I can go to America with you?’ Rosa’s laugh was a little nervous, but Jack shook his head.

  ‘So that you can spend a lifetime with me. That’s what I’m offering, my dearest.’

  ‘That’s what I’m taking then,’ she replied.

  And they went into each other’s arms.

  Seventy-One

  A registry office wedding was arranged with only Molly and her husband as witnesses and Joan and Jack’s agent Terence Roy as guests, after which Rosa and Jack hosted a small reception at a city hotel and left for their honeymoon, not in America as Jack had planned, but in Carron – Rosa’s choice.

  ‘You don’t mind, Jack?’ she asked him. ‘I know Carron is not a place you know well but it means a lot to me. I’d like to see it again before we go abroad.’

  ‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Jack told her quickly. ‘As long as …’ He hesitated. ‘As long as it doesn’t bring back too many memories to upset you.’

  She gave him a long, clear look of understanding. ‘I’m not going to be thinking of Daniel all the time, Jack. Please don’t believe that.’

  ‘I won’t, of course I won’t. I know you just want to be where your family were before we have to depart and I’m happy about that. As long as we can make our own way there and not have to travel with Joan – much as I like your stepmother.’