‘We can stay here?’ said Angus.
‘For the time being.’
Suddenly he felt too exhausted to continue. It would have to do for now. ‘Good,’ he said, his voice feeling hoarse and uncomfortable. ‘That’s good then. And you’ll have to find out how we do things here. For a start, Lucy has swimming lessons on a Thursday. And there’re other things. And … And I’m going to my room now.’
He left the kitchen with as much dignity as he could manage, and then ran.
Chapter Five
Ellen was nervous. She circled the kitchen for the third time, trying to make sure she hadn’t forgotten anything. Hens were fed and eggs collected. Lambing seemed to have tailed off, and Angus had checked on the cows before he went to school. Perhaps this farming business wasn’t so difficult after all. Kit Ballantyne would no doubt keep an eye on the animals during the day, as she had become accustomed to him doing. She really would have to stop taking advantage of his kindness, but not today. Today she was going up to Edinburgh and she should have been jumping for joy.
Jess’s friend Clare was going to have the children after school so that she didn’t need to rush back. Everything was in hand. She made a final circuit of the kitchen and tripped over Monty who whined but didn’t move away. ‘It’s only for the day,’ she said as she bent and scratched his head. ‘Not even a whole day. Just a few hours.’
He whined again and pressed his head against her hand.
‘You want to come with me? Oh, go on then, why not? You’ll be company, won’t you?’
He gave a low grumble, the ageing border terrier equivalent of a shout of delight. Once in the car he took up position on the seat beside her, occasionally leaning his paws against the dashboard and contemplating the road ahead. He looked completely at ease. Had Jessie used to take him about with her? Ellen couldn’t remember. She felt the familiar sinking of the heart as she thought of Jess, of not knowing what Jess would have done, and determinedly pushed those thoughts aside.
Today she was going to have a good time, get a little bit organised, and she wasn’t going to think about the children until she got back to Craigallan that evening.
Her spirits rose as she dropped down from the Pentlands into Edinburgh. Just seeing the silhouette of the castle in the distance lifted her mood. This was her home; a beautiful, vibrant place, and she was going to come back here just as soon as she could. She was early for her appointment at the college and went for a mocha latté to fill in the time. Bliss, although she couldn’t take Monty into the café with her. She couldn’t think what had persuaded her to bring him. Dogs and Edinburgh didn’t go together.
This point was brought home again when she went to meet Richard for a late lunch, in an elegant little restaurant close to his office. She found herself hoping that Richard would have to get back to work early, so that the terrier wouldn’t be on his own in the car (windows slightly open) for too long. If he didn’t have to leave, she would need to make up some excuse herself. Richard wouldn’t understand about Monty.
Richard was late, not a great start, but not too late, and he held her close in greeting and seemed genuinely pleased to see her. He looked smart in the dark suit and pristine white shirt, his short, dark hair glossy. Ellen wished she had gone back to her flat first to change into something more suitable, but with fitting in a walk for Monty there hadn’t been time.
‘Ellen. Good to see you.’
‘It’s good to be here.’
‘You’re looking tired. Come on, let’s order, then we can talk properly. Make sure you choose a decent meal. You look like you could do with feeding up.’
Ellen felt nettled. Did she look that bad?
‘Tell me how you got on at the college. Weren’t they surprised you wanted more time off?’
‘Not really. Actually, they were very reasonable.’ Ellen had met with her head of department. She had already discussed options with Human Resources, and it appeared that her head of department had done so too. ‘They’ve agreed to let me stay on compassionate leave until the end of the month, and then I can take some unpaid leave. They’ll hold the post open for me until September.’
Richard frowned. ‘September? But I thought you would only need a month or two?’
That’s what Ellen had hoped, but the more she thought about it the more difficult everything seemed. ‘It’s not that easy. The kids don’t want to move up here. I’ll have to take things slowly. I thought it would be best if they realised for themselves that it’s not practical to stay on the farm.’
‘You’re being too soft on them. Children react best to being told what to do. And what happens if they don’t come round to your way of thinking?’
Ellen shrugged. Her salad looked far from appetising. ‘Richard, they’re not my kids. They’ve been brought up to be allowed to choose things for themselves. They’ve had enough of a shock without me trying to impose my wishes on them.’
‘You mean they’re spoilt.’
‘Well.’ Ellen had never understood Sam and Jess’s approach to child rearing, but there was no point in going into that now. ‘They’re basically good kids.’
Richard steepled his hands and looked at her consideringly. ‘Have you thought of boarding school?’
‘Boarding school? Heavens, no. I haven’t got the money, and anyway Lucy is only seven, Callum ten. I couldn’t just send them away.’
‘I was sent away when I was eight.’
And look what that created, thought Ellen. She didn’t say it. This was one area in which she and Richard’s ex-wife were in agreement, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to explain. ‘As I said, I haven’t got the money.’
‘Yes, how exactly are you situated financially? You realise that it’ll be a struggle once you’ve had a month or two without pay? I take it your sister and brother-in-law weren’t exactly flush?’
‘No, not exactly.’ Ellen smiled at the understatement.
‘So are you expected to pay for everything from you own pocket?’
‘I have done so far. Not that there has been much to pay for. Just food and that.’
‘I take it you haven’t got probate sorted out yet?’
‘These things take time.’
‘No harm in having the property valued, meantime. Bringing up children is expensive, believe me. You’re going to need to get your hands on that capital.’
‘Yes. Well, maybe. I’m OK for the moment.’ Richard’s common sense used to be one of the things that Ellen admired about him.
He glanced at his watch. ‘Better eat up. Can’t stay much longer, I’ve got a two-thirty meeting. I told you lunchtimes were never good.’
‘I know. Thanks for coming to meet me.’
‘My pleasure.’ He leant over and kissed her cheek, more like a friend than a lover. ‘Take care.’
Ellen went to let Monty out of the car. She should have been pleased that Richard had needed to dash off, saving her having to think up some excuse of her own for an early departure. Instead, she sighed and bent to rub Monty’s wiry head with her hand. ‘Looks like it’s just you and me, mate,’ she said. She took him for a stretch of the legs and then drove the car to her little flat.
Her original intention had been to spend some time looking around the shops, but now she didn’t have the energy. She made a quick raid on her wardrobe and headed back to the farm. She was already out of the habit of city driving and didn’t want to get caught in the rush hour.
Ellen stopped to pick up the children from Clare’s on her way to Craigallan. She had intended to stay no more than five minutes, but she had reckoned without Clare’s quiet concern which, mixed with a heavy dose of the local tendency to string any conversation out to its limit, meant that you could never be brief.
Twenty minutes later, and turning down the offer of coffee, tea, or something herbal for the third time, Ellen edged towards the door. Angus was hissing ‘I need to check Melanie now’ while Clare promised Grace that Lucy could come for a sleepover very soon.
‘I’ll see you at the school next Wednesday night, I suppose?’ she added to Ellen, catching her unawares.
‘Wednesday?’
‘Yes. Didn’t you get the letter? You have to check the children’s bags every day, or you’ll never know anything. Wednesday was always going to be a PTA meeting, but now with all this talk of threatened school closures they’re starting off with a talk about that. It’s quite a worry. It would be a disaster for the village if the school was shut. You will be there, won’t you?’
Ellen wracked her brains, but could come up with any excuse. She couldn’t even remember if Wednesday was a day for swimming lessons, or something similar. ‘Perhaps. I don’t know. What time is the meeting?’
‘Seven o’clock. Bring all the kids down with you. There’ll be whole crowd of them in the park, you won’t need to worry.’
When Ellen arrived at Craigallan, she remembered what it was she should have done before she left that morning. She should have stoked up the Rayburn. The day had been mild, but it was cool now, and the house already felt damp. No hot water until she got the thing lit, nor for a few hours after that. And no time to sit for a moment and work out what needed doing first. Angus and Callum were arguing. Lucy was hungry. Her flat, which had seemed so dull and silent, was suddenly very attractive.
‘Kit’s here,’ said Angus, looking out the window. ‘He’s with Melanie. I told you I should have come home before now.’ He headed out of the back door.
‘Angus, can you help me with this fire?’
‘No. I said Kit’s here. I think there’s a problem.’
Ellen frowned. Who was Melanie? Oh, yes, that fat little Galloway cow. Silly name. She felt a sudden quiver of nerves. Was the calving starting? She had just got used to the lambing, but she suspected the cows would be another matter entirely.
Angus was already outside and over the wall into the field, Callum following more slowly in his wake.
‘Can I go too?’ said Lucy.
‘I thought you were hungry?’
‘I want to see Melanie.’
‘Look, Kit is here. I’m sure …’ But Lucy had disappeared and Ellen gave in and followed, at a somewhat slower pace. All this giving birth wasn’t her kind of thing. She had watched Angus lamb one ewe, and had felt queasy at the sight of all the blood.
‘Is everything all right?’ she called out brightly, staying on the garden side of the wall.
Kit Ballantyne had a halter around the cow’s neck and was coaxing her towards the farmyard. Angus was beside him and Callum had run ahead to open the gate. The cow was bellowing.
‘Just – going to get her – in the byre.’ Kit used his shoulder to nudge the cow in the direction of the farmyard, grunting with the effort as she tried to swing away. ‘Need her inside – so I can – have a look.’
‘I see. Lucy, you stay here with me.’ Ellen held on to the child’s thin arm so that she couldn’t jump down from the gate. Up to now she had found Melanie a rather sweet-natured beast, but she had heard somewhere that cows could be dangerous when there were calves involved. Kit was tall and solid, but even he was struggling to control the animal.
‘Get some feed in a bucket,’ he shouted to Angus. ‘See if she’ll come for that.’
‘Right.’ Angus ran ahead and was back almost instantly with a pail of some kind of grain. The soft, straight hair was falling over his face, which was tense. ‘Come on, Melly, come on girl. That’s right, food here.’ He rattled the bucket and the cow raised her head and looked. Kit took the opportunity when she wasn’t pushing against him to nudge her two or three steps closer to the yard. ‘Come on Melly,’ said Angus, shaking the bucket again. ‘What’s wrong? Why do you want to bring her in?’
‘I just think I need to have a look. The calf is taking a bit too long to appear.’
‘I knew I should have come home,’ said Angus.
‘Lucy and I are going to try and light the Rayburn,’ said Ellen. ‘Give us a shout if you need anything.’
‘But I want to see what’s happening,’ wailed Lucy. ‘Melanie is Angus’s first cow. Dad gave him her as a calf last year. Why can’t I stay and watch?’
‘Because I really need your help. Remember what we said about all helping each other? If the boys are out there with Mr Ballantyne, then I need you to get the kindling for me. Then we’ll start on food for everyone. These things are important too, you know.’
‘But it’s not fair.’
‘Life’s not fair,’ snapped Ellen. The strain of the day was getting to her. Edinburgh had not been the pleasant break she had envisaged. She felt wrung out and had been looking forward to a quiet evening, but there was no hope of that now. She closed her eyes. Life wasn’t supposed to be like this. She prided herself on never getting into situations she couldn’t handle.
Kit’s expression was grim, and she could tell he was worried. What would happen if something went wrong? Might they lose the calf? Or, worse still, the cow? Angus was bound to blame her. His sullen silences were already difficult enough.
She turned to her niece. ‘Just do as I say, OK?’
Lucy turned to stare at her in surprise. Her pale, freckled face and blue eyes were so like Jess’s. She sniffed and went to do as she was bidden.
They had just got the Rayburn lit when Callum came running into the kitchen. ‘There’s a problem,’ he said breathlessly. ‘Kit said I’m to get his bag for him, out of the car.’ He disappeared through the other door and headed towards Kit’s car, parked part-way up the track.
Ellen followed him as far as the doorway, wondering if she should offer to help. Not that she would even know what a vet’s bag looked like. He seemed to find what he wanted without too much difficulty and was about to turn back when something caught his attention. He looked at the car, then at Ellen.
‘What is it?’ she shouted.
‘It’s Kit’s mobile. It’s ringing. Should I answer it?’
‘Pick it up, at least.’ She hurried up the track towards him, just in time to hear the ringing stop. She took the handset from her nephew and read the message: ‘5 missed calls’. What now? Five calls must be important. But she needed Kit here!
She and Callum hurried through to the farm yard, he lugging the bag, she holding the phone doubtfully before her. ‘Someone’s been trying to phone you.’
‘God, why now?’ said Kit, looking up briefly. For the first time since Ellen had met him, he looked harassed. The cow was on her side on the floor and Kit and Angus were beside her. She realised that Angus was still in his school uniform.
‘I heard the phone ringing.’
‘It says there’ve been five calls,’ said Lucy, not wanting to be left out. She edged backwards as Melanie gave a sudden convulsion. ‘Is Melly OK?’
‘She will be,’ said Kit through gritted teeth. ‘When we get this calf out.’ He used his weight to keep the heifer from standing up and started delving into the massive black bag with his one free hand. ‘Right, Angus, this is what I want you to do.’
Ellen backed away, still holding the phone.
‘Shouldn’t be a minute,’ said Kit, not even looking up this time. His attention was entirely on Angus and the animal that lay between them. For some reason Kit seemed to be giving the instructions and Angus to be doing the work. Ellen stood in the doorway, fascinated and horrified in equal parts, as her nephew put his bony arm right inside the cow. He was frowning in fierce concentration. Kit was swearing and sweating as he tried to keep the cow still. ‘That’s right … Feel for a foot …’
Callum came closer to get a better look and the heifer twisted and pulled away in surprise. Kit protected Angus with his body and got a hoof in his ribs for his troubles. ‘Bloody hell! Callum, get out of the way.’ The cow had slumped back down and was now breathing shallowly. ‘Look, we need to move quickly. OK, one last try, Angus, and then I’ll have to … Well, we won’t think about that now. Right, get your arm back in again. Good, good. Are you sure it’s a foot? Do you want the noose? Keep going,
you’re doing fine.’
He carried on telling the boy what to do, sometimes repeating himself two or three times, never losing his patience although his face was tense and sweat was pouring down it. Then, suddenly, Angus sat back and the forefeet and nose of the calf appeared where his arm had been.
‘Ah, that’s better,’ said Kit with a huge sigh. ‘That’s more like it.’
Ellen found she had been holding her breath and let it out in a long sigh of her own.
Kit cleared mucus from around the calf’s mouth and nose, gentle and businesslike, and then sat back on his heels. ‘I think she’ll do all right on her own now.’ He wiped his hand on the straw and stood up. They all watched as poor Melanie gave another tremendous push, and the calf’s head appeared. A few moments later, the whole body came slithering out. Melanie rose to her feet, determined but unsteady, and began to lick it roughly. The skinny wet creature wriggled and whimpered. It was alive.
‘I’ll take the phone now,’ said Kit from right beside Ellen, making her jump. ‘Can’t think why the surgery would need me at this time … It’s not the surgery.’ He frowned.
‘Do you want …?’
‘Excuse me, I’d better call the number back. Just give me a minute, will you? Keep an eye on her, Angus.’
He went out in to the cold dusk and Ellen was left in the barn with the heavily sweating cow, damp new calf, and three excited children. ‘Is everything all right?’ she asked tentatively.
‘Should be OK now.’ Angus was almost smiling. ‘The calf had a leg twisted back so the heifer couldn’t push it out. Kit’s hands were too big but he told me what to do and I did it. I pulled the leg round and then it was OK. Look, she’s trying to get to her feet already. And it’s a female calf, that’s brilliant.’
Ellen watched but didn’t move any closer. The calf, barely five minutes old, was already struggling to stand. The dark coat was thickly matted and damp. ‘It’s amazing.’
Sunshine Through the Rain Page 5
