Sunshine Through the Rain

by Gilly Stewart

  The kitchen was just as Kit remembered it; a square room warmed by the solid fuel Rayburn, the too-big table piled haphazardly with the debris of family life. Now, however, it was not Jess’s plump, cheery face that turned to greet him but that of her mother Vivien and a tall, stylish woman who must be the sister.

  Clare went forward and kissed both women solemnly on the cheek. ‘We heard the news in the village.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Jess’s mum. ‘It’s good of you to come.’

  ‘We won’t stay. We just wanted you to know how sorry we are. And that we’re here and willing to help. We’re thinking of you all the time.’ She took out her gift with a flourish, a squat white candle on a pale blue pottery stand. ‘I thought you might like to light this tonight, to remember them.’

  Vivien’s eyes filled with tears. It looked like she had been crying a lot. The other woman just closed her eyes tightly for a moment and when she opened them they were the same dull hazel colour, no tears, no expression at all.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I know the shock must be awful,’ said Clare gently. ‘Have you thought of what to do next? Will one of you need to go over, to wherever it is?’

  ‘Probably. We’ve just been talking about that. It was a car accident. I suppose there’ll be police enquiries – and things.’ It was the younger woman who answered, her voice as blank as her expression. ‘We want the funeral to be here, for the children. Otherwise we haven’t really decided anything.’

  ‘I can have the kids for a night or two, if that would help,’ said Clare. ‘And …’ She looked pointedly at Kit.

  ‘Yes, and, er, I’ll help around the house, farm, I mean, whatever. I’m Kit Ballantyne, by the way. Jess and Sam’s nearest neighbour. That is, I was …’

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ said Ellen, glancing at him and then away.

  ‘Is there anything we can do just now?’ asked Clare. ‘I could have Lucy for a sleepover …?’

  ‘No. Thanks. The children are watching television at the moment, but they won’t stay there long, none of us can settle. I think we’d rather all stay together, for now. Thanks.’

  ‘Of course. I’ll pop up and see you again tomorrow.’

  Kit edged towards the door. The reality of what had happened was starting to sink in, and he felt sick with the horror of it. ‘And I’ll have a quick look over the beasts now, shall I? I’m more than happy to do anything you want. I could do the evening feed for you?’

  ‘Thanks, but no. I think Angus wants to do it.’

  Clare went and embraced both women again. This time Ellen’s eyes started to fill with tears and the pale face that had been so frozen quivered. Kit’s impulse was to turn back and hug her himself, to make things better, as though she were a child or one of his injured animals. He paused for a moment, drawn by the stricken face, and then Vivien moved to put her arms around her daughter. Kit turned and hurried out.

  Chapter Three

  Ellen sank down onto one of the hard kitchen chairs. She wanted to rest her head on her arms and weep, but she was determined that today was the day she wasn’t going to cry. Since the offer of help from Jess and Sam’s nearest neighbours, a fortnight ago, she hadn’t seemed able to stop the tears from falling.

  But the funeral was over now and the children were back at school and she had to get her head in order. It would be easier if there wasn’t always so much to do. It was already ten o’clock. She had been up since six and this was the first chance she’d had had to sit down. She had tried to take over more of the morning chores today, to ease the children’s return to school. Poor children, poor orphaned children.

  She wondered how they were getting on and then decided not to think about that. It would only start her off again.

  She ran her fingers through her drooping hair. It really needed a cut, and new highlights were definitely overdue. She hadn’t a clue when she would have the time, but it cheered her up a little just to think about it. Something normal, that was what she needed. She also needed to get more of her clothes down from Edinburgh. She was sick to death of these once-white jeans. Perhaps she was getting a little better, if she could think of things like that.

  ‘Coffee,’ she said aloud. She heaved herself to her feet and tripped over Monty, the ageing border terrier who had taken to following her about all day long. ‘Oops, sorry, sunshine. Coffee, and then I’ll make a list of all the things I should do.’ Yes, that was better, far more like the old Ellen.

  Just as the kettle came to the boil, the phone rang. She cursed. It had been like this since the news got out. Phone calls and visits, offers of help, nosiness. She wasn’t used to this. In a city you had privacy, anonymity.

  ‘Ellen?’ For once, it wasn’t one of the neighbours, but a person from another life.

  ‘Richard! Hi.’ She was surprised and pleased. He rarely made personal calls during office hours.

  ‘How’re you doing?’

  ‘OK, I suppose.’

  ‘That’s good. Must be a relief to have the funeral out of the way.’

  ‘Ye-es. Thanks for coming down.’

  ‘I felt I should. It was good to see you, even with so many other people around. A shame we hardly had a chance to talk.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It was a bit – chaotic. I did appreciate you coming, though.’

  ‘No problem. Glad to be of use. How else would you have got that black suit?’

  ‘Yes, thanks for that.’ Even if it was the wrong suit, one she’d meant to throw away years ago. But it had been black, which was the main thing.

  ‘I was wondering, now that you’ve got that out of the way, if you’ve decided when you’re coming home?’

  ‘Oh, Richard, I don’t know.’

  ‘Haven’t things been sorted out yet?’

  ‘No, not really, we’re all a bit …’

  ‘You need to make a start, Ellen. The longer you leave it the more difficult it will get.’

  ‘Yes, maybe.’ Ellen resented his tone. In another life, she would have agreed with him, but now the world seemed a different place. She ached with the loss of Jess and it was impossibly difficult to focus on even the smallest thing. ‘Things are still a bit strange here, with the children, and people dropping in all the time, and trying to sort out the animals …’ Her voice trailed off as it threatened to overwhelm her again.

  ‘The neighbours still dropping in, are they? Really, I don’t know how they have the time.’

  ‘Yes. Well. They’re just trying to help. Or maybe it’s always like that round here, I don’t know.’ Ellen was realising how little she had known of her sister’s life from those brief, rushed visits.

  Richard returned quickly to the important issues. ‘What has your boss at the college said, about you taking so much time off?’

  ‘They’ve been pretty good, so far. Annie McFadden is covering my lectures. I’m on compassionate leave, at least that’s what I think it’s called.’

  ‘But of course that can’t go on indefinitely.’

  ‘I know.’ Ellen felt a wave of panic. It was all very well telling yourself you had to take one day at a time, but how could you, when there were so many things to worry about? ‘But I can’t come back to Edinburgh just now. Who will look after the kids? I can’t just leave them.’

  ‘I thought you said your parents would take over?’

  ‘Did I? Yes, of course, but it won’t be for a while. My dad is really not well, and Mum’s not as young as she used to be …’ The panic went up another notch as the meaning of the words sank in. She took the phone over to a chair, stumbling over Monty, and sank into it.

  ‘Have you seen the solicitor yet?’

  ‘Yes, sort of. I mean, he came to the funeral, and we had a brief chat. I’m going to see him again sometime this week.’

  ‘The sooner the better,’ said Richard. He sounded impatient. She supposed he wasn’t used to her being so indecisive – she wasn’t used to it herself. ‘After that you will know how things stand.’

/>   ‘Yes, maybe. I’m going to have to come up to Edinburgh one day soon to pick up some clothes. Perhaps we could meet for lunch?’

  ‘Lunch is never easy. An evening would be better.’

  ‘I have to be back for the kids in the evening. Look, I’ve got an idea, why don’t you come down here next weekend?’ Her spirits rose very slightly at the thought of familiar adult company, someone to lean on.

  ‘Sorry, no can do. Had you forgotten this is when we were going to do the Laraig Dhu? I gave your apologies to Hal, you don’t need to worry about that, I realised you wouldn’t be able to make it. We’ll split the cost of the cabin between the rest of us. But there’s no way I could let them down as well.’

  ‘Oh.’ The idea of climbing the Laraig Dhu with five or six carefree friends was so far beyond Ellen’s ability to picture that she didn’t even feel jealous. ‘I hope you have a good time.’

  ‘I’m sure we will. There’s a call for me on the other line, must go. Keep in touch.’

  ‘Bye,’ said Ellen, but the line was already dead. She could picture Richard in his immaculate office, his attention already on the next problem, Ellen forgotten.

  She sat staring into space for a while. Then, just as she was collecting the energy to move, there was a tentative knock on the door. She groaned. She hadn’t even made that coffee yet.

  Her visitor was Kit, the large, scruffy man who lived in the even scruffier caravan up beyond the copse. ‘Morning,’ she said, making an effort. He had been very kind, helping with the animals, and had come to the funeral, too. And at least it wasn’t Mrs Jack, from the bungalow opposite Clare’s cottage. She had also attended the funeral and popped in more than once with offers of help but there was something about her perfect hair and complacent expression, the way she looked around, as though making unfavourable mental notes, that made Ellen wary.

  Kit smiled gently. ‘Hi there. Sorry to disturb you. Just thought I should mention a couple of the ewes look like they might be starting to lamb.’

  ‘Oh, no.’ Ellen hadn’t yet got her head around coping with the animals already at Craigallan. The thought of more frail new ones was terrifying! ‘Isn’t that a bit early?’ It wasn’t yet the end of February and still felt like deepest winter.

  ‘I suppose Sam planned it that way. You can make more money from the first lambs of the year, but it’s harder work.’

  This was not the sort of news that Ellen needed. ‘God, this is never ending. What do I have to do?’

  ‘Nothing, just now. I’ll keep an eye on them for you if you want. If nothing’s happened by tonight you should get Angus to bring them into the byre.’

  ‘OK,’ said Ellen with a sigh. ‘OK, I’ll do that.’ She knew nothing about animals. The block of flats where she lived didn’t even permit cats.

  The man had a thatch of messy hair and a broad face with sleepy brown eyes. Just now, they were watching her with concern. ‘Look, why don’t you sit down for a minute and I’ll make you a coffee? You look all in.’

  ‘I …’ Ellen tried to stand up taller. She clearly looked a wreck. But the effort was beyond her and she sat down again, suddenly. Her legs didn’t seem to want to hold her today. ‘That would be great.’

  That brief moment of optimism seemed a long time ago. Now she wanted nothing more than to throw back her head and wail. Where was Jessie? It would have been better if Ellen had died and Jessie was still here, it really would. No one needed her as the children needed Jess and Sam. Why was life so cruel?

  She let out a shaky sigh and watched as the stranger quickly and competently made them both a drink. He was familiar with this kitchen, and even that fact made her chest ache. He had known Jess and Sam better than she had.

  ‘Children off to school?’

  ‘Yes. I think they wanted to go. They didn’t say so, but they needed to get back to normality. Whatever that is now.’

  ‘They’re lucky to have you.’

  ‘Hmm. They’d rather have their gran, I think. I mean, if they can’t have their parents. But they can’t have Gran either, just now, ’cos Grandad needs her.’

  ‘How is your Dad doing? Is there anything they can do for Parkinson’s these days?’

  She looked up in surprise, and then realised that he would know about her father’s illness from Jess and Sam. He seemed genuinely interested, watching her with quiet concern.

  ‘Not a lot, with the stage the disease is at. He probably shouldn’t have come down for the funeral, but he wanted to. It was important to him and to Mum, so I suppose it was worth it. But now they’re both worn out. It’s put him back.’

  ‘It’s not surprising.’

  ‘No.’ Ellen cradled the mug in her hands. It might not be surprising but it was upsetting. She was used to her parents being there to help out when she or Jess needed them, but it wasn’t like that any more. ‘How’s your house coming on?’ she asked, brightly. She had to remember other people had lives, too.

  He smiled ruefully. ‘Not as quickly as I’d like.’ He began to tell her about his problems with the planning department, but she found it hard to concentrate on anything just now. Richard’s phone call pointing out all the things she really should be sorting out hadn’t helped.

  He paused, expecting some kind of response from her. ‘Sorry, I sort of lost track …’

  She felt embarrassed, but Kit’s expression was sympathetic. ‘No worries. Time I was off. I’ll have a look at those ewes for you.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  She went to the door to say goodbye, and he paused and looked down on her, his eyes kind and concerned. He pulled her into a warm, friendly hug. ‘You’ll be fine. You’re doing fine.’

  She was surprised at the gesture, brief as it was. Her circle of friends weren’t the touchy feely type. ‘Well,’ she said, moving quickly back. ‘Well, thanks for coming down.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ He considered her with a slight frown, as though she was a puzzle, and then he let himself out of the door.

  As Kit walked back up the track he decided that now was the time to throw himself into the building work. He had procrastinated long enough. It had taken forever to get planning permission and he still didn’t have a Building Warrant, but was that reason enough to delay? Sal had always accused him of being a ditherer. Well, he would prove her wrong. He had done his duty by calling in on his neighbour, and checking on the ewes, now he should get to work.

  Keeping busy had the additional benefit of stopping him thinking about Jess and Sam – Jess and Sam and his role in sending them away. He still couldn’t get used to the idea that he would never see them again, that they had set off on a carefree holiday – and not come back. How could taking one little trip in a taxi go so wrong?

  He couldn’t begin to imagine how it felt for Ellen and the children. Why oh why had he so blithely encouraged Jess in her plans? But don’t think about that now. A bit of practical work was what he needed.

  He spent the rest of the morning striding his plot of land, marking out the foundations with metal poles and string. He had always been quite interested in that techy kind of stuff at school and now it was coming in useful. He had his spirit levels and theodolite and with the aid of the plans (which he had drawn up himself) it wasn’t too difficult to mark things out. A digger driver called Robbie was coming to look over the job some time that afternoon. Now there was something definite for him to see.

  When his stomach reminded him that it might be lunchtime, Kit stood back and examined what he had achieved. He could picture the house without any effort at all. Wood and glass, south facing, lots of light and solar panels. He hoped it was as easy to create in real life as it was in his head.

  He felt better for the physical effort. There was nothing like getting your hands dirty.

  He fired up his computer and automatically checked for any e-mails from Sal. It had been a relief to get the phone line put in last week, but so far it hadn’t made communications from A
ustralia any the more frequent.

  This time a message did flash up, and even before he had read it he felt the foreboding.

  I don’t know how to say this so I’d better do it straight out. I’m not coming over to join you. I’m sorry, but it’s not going to work out. To be honest with you, I’ve met someone else here. He’s English too but he wants to stay in Oz and I’ve realised so do I. I’m really sorry.

  I hope things work out for you.

  Take care,

  Sal

  It was so brief that Kit read it right through without taking a breath. Then he read it again. He sat there for a while, letting it sink in. Pretty, bouncy, carefree Sally would not be joining him. Had found someone else. Was no longer his.

  The good humour created by the morning’s work evaporated. He felt winded by the suddenness of it. Even though he had begun to have his doubts, because she had delayed her departure for so long, he had never thought she would do something like this. He had trusted her. He buried his face in his hands, rubbing them over the unshaven chin as though he could rub out his thoughts.

  He tried to focus on anger rather than the hurt. How long had she known this other man? How could she keep Kit stringing along? How could she end it all by e-mail? If that was the kind of person she was, he was well rid of her. He didn’t need anyone, especially not someone who thought he was English!

  And yet his thoughts kept drifting back to Sal’s bubbly laugh, her zest for life. He gazed around the messy caravan with distaste. No wonder she hadn’t wanted to come over to this. He didn’t like it much himself. It was a disaster. Why was it so much easier for things to go wrong than to go right? Is that what Sal had realised about him, how useless he was? Maybe if he’d waited in Australia until she was ready to leave, or found something better to live in once he was over here …

  He didn’t know how long he sat there before he heard a vehicle pulling up outside. What on earth …? Oh, the digger man. Right. Drains and foundations, they were what he needed to concentrate on just now. He stood up and took a deep breath. Better, and far more rewarding, than thinking about bloody women.