Sunshine Through The Rain
Gilly Stewart
Ellen is settled in Edinburgh when one day her sister begs a favour: can she come and look after her farm and three children while she has a much-deserved holiday. Ellen loves her nieces and nephews, but the animals are a bit of a worry …
After a manic yet fun weekend, her world is shattered when a freak accident kills her sister and leaves her as the children’s legal guardian. Ellen never asked for children, nor to run a farm, but now she's in charge of both. Desperately juggling her responsibilities, Ellen is driven to find a compromise between her old life and her new: one the children will accept, and that will allow her to keep something of herself as well.
Into the mix is thrown their neighbour, handsome, brooding Kit. He’s more than willing to help out on the farm, but not so willing to open up to Ellen…
For David
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
Chapter Twenty-four
Chapter Twenty-five
Chapter Twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-seven
Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-nine
Chapter One
‘So, how would you feel about coming down and house-sitting for the weekend?’
‘What? Me?’ Ellen had been eyeing her reflection in the hall mirror and letting her thoughts wander. Jessie had sighed over their father’s slow decline, asked after Ellen’s work and her on/off relationship with Richard, confirmed that the children were all in good health. Discussions of possible surprises for her brother-in-law’s fortieth birthday had continued for months. Ellen had failed to realise that all this talk of cheap flights to Prague heralded a decision. ‘Sorry. What did you say?’
‘I said, would you mind house-sitting while we’re away? Please.’
‘You mean you’ve booked?’
‘Yes! I can hardly believe it. I wanted to do something special for Sam, he always works so hard. And turning forty is an event, isn’t it? Gosh, aren’t we getting old?’ Jess laughed.
‘When did you say you were going?’ asked Ellen cautiously. House-sitting a small farm wasn’t exactly her cup of tea.
‘On Sam’s birthday, of course. The first weekend in February. So in two weeks’ time. I hope he likes the idea. You know how he hates leaving the farm for more than a few hours, or leaving the kids, for that matter.’
‘You’re leaving the kids?’ Ellen wished she’d been paying attention sooner. ‘All three?’ She had never looked after her nephews and niece for more than a few hours. Now Jess thought she could manage a whole weekend?
‘Of course. I feel bad, but we could hardly afford to take them, could we? And this is a special occasion, it’ll be the first time we’ve been away on our own since – well, since Angus was born. Sam used to dream of going to Prague when we were younger, but it wasn’t possible in those days.’
‘It sounds great. I’m really glad you’ve finally done something.’
‘So you’ll help out?’
‘Erm … Well, tell me what this house-sitting would involve.’ Even as she spoke, Ellen knew it wouldn’t just be the three children. There was the little terrier, Monty, and then all the farm animals …
‘There are the hens, of course, but they’re Callum’s responsibility so you won’t need to worry about them, and Angus’ll do the horses and dog. I know Angus is only twelve but he’s really good with the animals. There are the cows and the sheep, but there really won’t be much to do for them, it’s not as though it’s lambing time yet.’
Ellen thought of her own well-ordered life. Monday to Friday she lectured at the North Edinburgh College. Weekends she pottered around her flat or went walking or climbing with like-minded, child-free friends. She knew absolutely nothing about kids and animals. And how old were the younger two? She was pretty sure Callum was ten, and Lucy couldn’t be more than seven. Oh goodness, that sounded so young. She crossed her fingers. ‘Nothing to it, then.’
‘Exactly. So will you come?’
‘Well.’ Ellen took the phone into her tiny kitchen and checked the calendar. ‘I’m supposed to be going away that weekend with Richard and our usual group. You’re not exactly giving me much notice.’
‘I know, I’m sorry.’ Jessie paused. ‘Couldn’t you do it, just this once? You go away with Richard pretty often, don’t you?’ Jessie didn’t usually ask for things. Ellen tried to imagine what it was like not to have had a proper adult holiday for twelve years, and failed.
‘Seeing as you’ve already booked. I do think it’s a great idea for you both to get away. And I haven’t seen the kids for a while.’ She took a deep breath. ‘OK, I’ll do it. Friday to Monday, you said?’
‘Yes. Thanks, Ellen. You’re absolutely brilliant. I promise never to ask for anything again.’
‘Not this year, at least.’
‘Not this year or next. You don’t know what a relief it’ll be to know that you’ll be in charge.’
Ellen didn’t have nearly so much confidence in her ability. ‘Hmmph. Just make sure you come back on the Monday, I think four days will be my limit. The college owe me some time back, but I can’t push it too far.’
‘Of course. I’ll be desperate to get back after four whole days. And if there are any problems with the house or animals you can ask our new neighbour Kit to help out. He won’t mind.’
‘New neighbour?’ As far as Ellen could remember, the nearest house to Craigallan was at least half a mile away, which didn’t constitute neighbourliness in her opinion, and was inhabited by Jess’s best friend. ‘Has Clare moved?’
‘No, of course not. Don’t you remember me telling you? We sold off a bit of our land to raise money. The man who bought it is building a house entirely himself, he’s got amazing plans, and meantime he’s living there in a caravan. I really admire him.’
‘Oh,’ said Ellen. Somehow she just knew what was coming next.
‘He’s a fascinating guy, I’d like you to meet him.’
Ellen was all too used to Jess introducing her to suitable men. Jess didn’t appreciate Richard’s aloof good looks. ‘Hmm.’
‘His name’s Kit Ballantyne. He’s a vet, early-thirties. He’s really lovely. I’ll ask him to call down while you’re here.’
‘There’s really no need.’
‘I’ll mention it to him.’ Jess didn’t give up easily.
Ellen rang off as soon as she could. She enjoyed chatting to Jess, but just now she needed to get over the shock of what she had agreed to.
A whole weekend of children and animals. She looked around her calm, white little flat and shook her head. It would certainly be a contrast.
She loved it here, living on her own. That’s what people didn’t realise. Her mother had taken to making hints about her and Richard tying the knot, but it wasn’t what either of them wanted. Richard had one expensive failed marriage behind him and Ellen – well, she was perfectly happy with the way things were.
She sighed as she took a pencil from the drawer and crossed out the climbi
ng weekend on the calendar. She wrote in ‘Craigallan’ and shook her head in disbelief.
Richard was unexpectedly annoyed when Ellen told him she couldn’t make the weekend in Perthshire. She broke the news to him casually when they were having an after-work drink in one of his favourite bars, a discreet little place in Edinburgh’s New Town. ‘So, I’ll have to give my apologies, which is a nuisance, but can’t be helped.’
‘Why can’t it be helped?’ He frowned, his handsome face sulky. ‘Why can’t someone else baby-sit? Does it have to be you?’
‘There doesn’t seem to be anyone else.’
‘But Ellen, you agreed to come with us.’
She reached over and touched his hand. ‘I know I did, and I’m sorry to let you down. But it’s no big deal, is it? It’s not as if I’m essential to everyone’s enjoyment of the weekend.’ Or even anyone’s, she thought, as he withdrew his hand from beneath hers.
‘Everyone else will be in a couple.’
‘You could come to Craigallan with me,’ she suggested, but without much hope. It wasn’t likely that Richard would be prepared to fritter away valuable leisure time on other people’s children.
‘No thanks.’
‘Look, it isn’t that I want to spend a weekend looking after three children. I’m the one who will really suffer.’
‘So why go?’
‘Richard, Jess asked me to do her a favour. She doesn’t ask often.’
‘And when did she last do something for you?’
Ellen pulled a face. He was missing the point here. This was family, it wasn’t a case of tit for tat. ‘What would I want her to do?’
‘You’re right. You don’t need favours, do you?’
For some reason, that thought seemed to please him. Ellen didn’t bother to explain that she didn’t need favours because she was careful never to get into situations she couldn’t manage. Life was better that way.
When they had finished their second drink, she said, ‘Shall we get something to eat in town, or do you want to come back to my place?’ Richard never had more than two drinks on a work night. ‘I haven’t got much in but I think I could just about stretch to a stir fry, would that do?’
‘Thanks, but I’d better get home. My day’s work’s not finished yet.’ He patted his briefcase affectionately. She wondered if this was his way of punishing her for not fitting in with his plans. If it was, she didn’t mind. An evening alone in her little Dean Village flat was never a chore.
She made herself a salad and ate it curled up on her sofa, reading the latest murder mystery that she had picked up on her weekly trip to the book shop. Richard couldn’t understand why she hadn’t moved on to reading novels digitally, but she liked the feel of the book in her hands. Later she would mark assignments on The Impact of The Euro on European Economic Stability and then perhaps have an early night. Or a long, lazy bath in her recently refurbished bathroom? She felt the tranquillity of her flat settling around her, and relaxed.
The Friday at Craigallan was easy. Jess and Sam had done all the morning chores and packed the children off to school before they left. All Ellen had to do was arrive before the younger ones came home and she managed that fine.
Craigallan was a long, low, white-washed building, more a cottage than a house. The older part had two storeys, the rooms on the upper floor low-ceilinged with tiny dormer windows. A nice enough place, if not exactly Ellen’s taste. Jess had left the back door unlocked. There were apparently no worries about break-ins here.
The first hour went well. Lucy in particular was delighted to see her Aunt Ellen, showing her around the house and the animals. It had been a good idea to bring presents – sweets and comics, which even Angus seemed to find acceptable when he arrived home. They weren’t bad kids, as far as kids went; she felt her fondness for them returning and wondered why she had left it so long since her last visit.
In the early evening seven-year-old Lucy had been invited to a birthday party in Dumfries. Ellen solved the problem of what to do with the boys by bribing them: if they came to the supermarket with her, she would feed them at McDonalds afterwards. Their parents disapproved of McDonalds, so this was a treat indeed! Lucy was almost willing to forego the birthday party for it. So far so good. Ellen couldn’t remember when she had last had a Big Mac herself, so the experience was almost exotic. Really, she didn’t know what she had worried about, it wasn’t that difficult to keep children happy.
‘Auntie Ellen, did Mum remind you about the Rayburn?’ asked Angus after demolishing his burger swiftly and in silence.
‘The Rayburn?’ Ellen wracked her brain. ‘What about it? Did she put it on the list?’
‘Don’t know. She said to be careful we didn’t let it go out. It’s a bugger to light again if you do.’
Ellen frowned at the language but suspected he was repeating a phrase from his father. ‘It’s solid fuel, isn’t it? I’d forgotten.’ Damn. What a time to remind her, when they were thirty minutes’ drive from the house and Lucy’s party didn’t finish for another three quarters of an hour.
‘I put some anthracite on when I got in from school,’ said Angus. ‘It might be OK.’
‘Good. Well done.’ Ellen hadn’t noticed him doing it, but that wasn’t very surprising in between visits to the horses and the hens, walking the dog and making a half-hearted attempt to unpack her suitcase in the tiny spare room.
‘Can I have a McFlurry?’ asked Callum, who clearly couldn’t have cared less about the Rayburn. Ellen cared; without it, there would be no heating and no hot water.
‘Yes, why not?’ she said. They still had some time before collecting Lucy and she didn’t personally think the occasional ice cream did much harm, no matter how many additives it might contain.
Callum jumped to his feet and shot across to the serving bar. Angus rose more slowly. At twelve, he was only two years older than his brother, but tall and lanky, with a pale face that often wore a worried expression. Ellen handed him the money and he muttered something that might have been thanks.
The Rayburn was almost out when they arrived home. This meant that instead of taking Monty straight out to empty his bladder and then getting Lucy and Callum off to bed, the four of them spent the next half-hour coaxing it back to life with strips of newspaper and kindling.
‘Don’t your parents have any fire lighters?’
‘No, fire lighters are unnecessary,’ said Lucy. ‘Dad never ever uses them.’
‘They might not be necessary, but they’d certainly be useful.’ Ellen added them to her mental shopping list. ‘Angus, isn’t there any way of getting a better through-draught in this thing? I’m going to start hyperventilating if I have to blow on it much more.’
‘Not sure,’ he said, pushing back his long fringe in a nervous gesture. ‘Dad and Mum do the Rayburn mostly. Maybe this thing?’ He pulled out a vent near the chimney and sent a cloud of smoke into the room. ‘Oh, sorry.’
‘Push it back in! Ah, leave it there, that seems to be better. Yes, Lucy, what is it?’
‘Auntie Ellen, I think the Monty’s done a piddle.’
‘Oh no.’
‘Callum, you should’ve let the dog out as soon as we got home. It’s your job.’
‘No it’s not. I feed him, Mum does everything else.’
‘But Mum said we had to help Auntie Ellen.’
‘Never mind,’ said Ellen, standing upright with a sigh. ‘Let him out now, will you, and I’ll use some newspaper to clean up the mess. Where does Mum keep the old newspapers?’
‘I think we’ve just used them all on the fire,’ said Angus.
Ellen swore silently and tried to smile. ‘Not to worry, at least the fire is well and truly lit. I’ll find something else I can use.’ Possibly, she added to herself. That was the problem with people who were so keen on recycling. She had forgotten how seriously Jess and Sam took that kind of thing. They didn’t leave piles of old newspapers around because they reused them.
Ellen thought of
her Edinburgh flat, and told herself there were only three more days to go. Three more days of sharing family bathrooms, sleeping on that less than comfortable spare bed, of being responsible for everything but never quite in control of anything. Already, she felt hemmed in.
On Saturday afternoon, the roof fell in – sort of. Jess had phoned in the morning to check that everything was all right, and Ellen had assured her, fingers crossed, that it was. The house was baking hot from an overheated Rayburn and Angus and Callum had been bickering since they got up, but nothing serious had gone wrong.
The rest of the morning was spent doing chores according to the lists left by Jess and Sam. Ellen was surprised at how amenable the children were. She didn’t remember that she and her sister had been this good about doing jobs, but perhaps her promise of an afternoon trip to the swimming pool had acted as an incentive. She wondered what a normal weekend was like at Craigallan, and smiled at the thought. Jess would no doubt be baking, Sam out in the fields with the boys, friends dropping in for coffee and a chat. No one could accuse Jess of being lazy, but she had that way with her of seeming to exist in happy chaos, while always making sure the essentials were done.
Ellen had to do things her own way, and was quietly satisfied as she ticked the last item on the list.
It was when they came out of the pool that her doubts returned. The children were tired and grumpy, and it was pouring down. The rain fell so hard that the ten minutes Ellen had spent re-styling her short hair were entirely wasted.
‘I want to sit in the front,’ wailed Lucy when Callum got there before her. ‘It’s my turn to sit in the front, it’s …’
‘Just get in,’ shouted Ellen. She had no intention of refereeing an argument in the rain. ‘For goodness sake, what does it matter?’
Lucy looked at her from wide, blue eyes, now tearful, and put her swimming bag down with a bang.
Ellen felt the children’s resentment deepening as they drove back to Craigallan. She had forgotten that Jess and Sam didn’t believe in shouting. Jess had explained that, in the long run, it was always better to give a quiet explanation. Sam’s patience occasionally snapped, but she had never seen her sister waiver.
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