‘She wants to start feeding. Let’s hope Melly will stand still for her.’ His smile faded and he met Ellen’s eyes with a glare. ‘Now do you see why I needed to come home sooner? She’d never have managed on her own and if the calf died we could’ve lost them both.’
‘But Kit was here …’
‘She’s my heifer,’ said Angus fiercely, putting one hand protectively on the cow’s flank. ‘Kit said he’d only just got here. Anything could’ve happened.’
A few moments later, Kit reappeared, his expression troubled again. ‘A problem?’ asked Ellen, heart sinking. She had been hoping he would stay around a little longer. Melanie was still breathing heavily, the calf looked shaky, and Angus’s expression was fierce.
‘It’s my mother.’ Kit pushed the thick hair back with his forearm. ‘It never bloody rains, does it? Give me a minute and I’ll think what to do.’
‘Something’s wrong with your mother?’
‘She’s had a fall. Not a bad one, but Mrs McIver thinks someone should be with her.’
‘Is she close by?’
‘Mum? She lives just the other side of Dunmuir. Deer Bridge. Do you know it? I should go, but I don’t want to leave Melanie just yet …’
‘The calf’s OK,’ said Angus. ‘I think.’
‘That’s good. I’ll just stay a few more minutes. ’
‘We’ll manage,’ said Ellen without conviction. ‘If your mother needs you.’
‘Yes, but the heifer’s had a bad time. She shouldn’t be left, it’s her first calving. She may well need an injection after all that effort.’ Kit pushed back his hair again, frowned at his watch. ‘If only …’
‘I could go to your mother, if that was any help.’ An old lady was a far less worrying prospect than an ailing cow and resentful nephew. Ellen hardly expected Kit to agree but he nodded immediately.
‘Are you sure? It’s probably nothing to worry about, it’s not the first time it’s happened. But I can’t just not go. I’ll be forever in your debt.’
She smiled back. It was good to offer to do something for him. ‘Give me directions and I’ll be on my way.’
Chapter Six
Deer Bridge was a couple of miles north of Dunmuir. It was rather a quaint village of pale pink sandstone. Ellen had admired the buildings more than once as she passed through. Mrs Ballantyne’s house was rather grand, standing well back from the road.
The door was opened by a slight, tired-looking woman in her fifties. ‘I’m that glad you’ve … Oh, I was waiting on Kit.’ She looked disappointed.
‘Kit’s busy with a calving just now, so I said I’d come instead. I’m a neighbour of his.’
‘A neighbour? Well, that’s good then. I’m a wee bit pushed for time myself. Come in, come in. And do you know Mrs Ballantyne?’
Ellen hesitated. ‘I’m a friend of Kit’s. I’m sure everything’ll be fine.’
‘She’s in the sitting room.’ The woman lowered her voice. ‘I tried to get her up to bed but it was no use. She’s a lovely woman, Mrs Ballantyne, don’t get me wrong, but these days she can be that contrary. Are you sure you’ll be OK? I should really get back, my husband’ll be wanting his tea, like, but I didn’t want to leave her.’
She nudged a door open and Ellen peered in.
A large woman was sitting in an armchair with one leg raised onto a footstool. ‘Good afternoon,’ said Mrs Ballantyne politely. ‘Or is it evening. Good evening?’
‘I’ll be off, then,’ said the woman who had let Ellen in. She left before Ellen could protest, or even ask what had happened.
Ellen went and sat on the edge of a soft, fancy settee. ‘Hello, Mrs Ballantyne. I’m Ellen, a friend of Kit’s. How are you feeling?’
‘I’m perfectly all right. It’s nice to see you, dear.’ The woman had the same broad face as Kit, and a lovely smile. But despite claiming to be fine, she looked tired, or in pain.
‘Is your leg hurting?’ asked Ellen. ‘You had a fall, didn’t you?’
‘Just a little one, dear. These things happen when you get older. I’ll be fine in a wee while. Would you like a tea or coffee?’ She made to get up, and then realised she couldn’t with her leg propped up like that.
‘Probably best if you don’t get up just now. Perhaps I can make you a drink?’
It took a little persuading, but Mrs Ballantyne eventually agreed that as she couldn’t get up just now Ellen should go to the kitchen and make a pot of tea.
‘I’m sorry to put you to so much trouble,’ said the elderly lady. ‘That’s all I seem to be, these days: trouble.’
‘Of course you’re not. This is no trouble.’
Mrs Ballantyne didn’t look convinced, but she accepted a cup of tea and did her best to make polite conversation. ‘It’s been a lovely day, today, hasn’t it? Warm for the time of year.’
They chatted in this vein for a while until Mrs Ballantyne said, ‘Who did you say you were? Are you Kit’s girlfriend, come over at last?’
‘No, no. I’m Kit’s neighbour.’
‘That’s right, you said. Sorry, dear, I get confused sometimes.’
‘We all get confused,’ said Ellen. She hoped Kit would get here soon. She wasn’t accustomed to caring for elderly ladies – for anyone, actually.
Kit, on the other hand, was clearly used to his mother. When he arrived an hour later he took in the situation at a glance, checked her leg to make sure she wasn’t badly injured, and managed to cajole her up to bed. There was something about his solid presence that calmed the atmosphere, put everyone at their ease. Ellen was impressed at how gentle he was. She helped as much as she could, but she was sure Kit would have managed very well without her.
Kit had brought Callum and Lucy with him and they sat quietly in front of the old-fashioned television while the adults were busy. As soon as Ellen returned downstairs, however, Callum burst out with, ‘I’m starving. It’s nearly eight o’clock and we haven’t had a thing to eat.’
‘We have been a bit busy,’ said Ellen with a sigh. The last thing she felt like doing now was cooking.
‘Can we get fish and chips?’ said Lucy hopefully. ‘As a treat?’
‘Or how about Chinese?’ suggested Callum, catching on to the idea. ‘There’s a really good take-away in Dunmuir. Can we?’
‘Well …’ Ellen seemed to remember Jess hadn’t approved of take-away food, but the idea of something ready-made was too good to resist. ‘I don’t see why not. Callum, why don’t you run upstairs and see if Kit will join us? He won’t have had anything to eat either and I think he’s planning to go home soon. Tell him we’re having Chinese.’
‘Kit says yeah, if you’re sure,’ the boy reported, reappearing at twice his normal speed. ‘Come on, can we go now?’
Ellen had just poured out a glass of wine and the children were eagerly opening the little foil dishes when Kit arrived at Craigallan. She found a glass for him and as she took a sip, found herself relaxing for the first time that day. The food was surprisingly good, and somehow she had come through yet another harrowing experience. Even Angus seemed happy that the heifer and calf were fine and Ellen had, for once, done something to help Kit by going to see his mother.
By the time they had finished eating, Lucy was almost asleep in her chair and it was time for Ellen to take her up to bed. What she really wanted was to sit quietly in the kitchen, have another glass of wine, allowing herself to unwind completely. But of course she couldn’t. She had never appreciated how long it took merely to supervise a sleepy child through the bedtime routine and then to read the required story.
When she returned downstairs, she found that Kit, of his own accord, had done the last round of the animals with Angus (not unexpected) and then returned to clear up the kitchen (miraculous). If Ellen had been him, she would have taken the chance to retreat to the childfree sanctuary of his caravan. She made them both a coffee and tried to think of the right words to thank him. And to tell him that from now on she really was going to stop rely
ing on him.
‘I hope your mother’s going to be all right,’ she said.
He looked up, the brown eyes wary. ‘I’m sure she’ll be fine after a good night’s sleep.’
‘Yes, of course …’ She wondered herself quite what it was that had made her say that. ‘It must be a worry. She was very sweet to me, but she seemed a bit confused. I suppose the fall would have shaken her.’
‘It would,’ he said, still looking defensive. Then he sighed. ‘To tell you the truth, it’s not the first time. I don’t know what’s causing it, whether she trips or it’s something else … So far she’s not been badly hurt but who knows next time?’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘She seems to have deteriorated a lot since my father died, but maybe it’s just that I’m here to see it. I haven’t been around much for the last few years.’
‘You were in Australia, weren’t you?’
‘That’s right. I spent quite a few years travelling around, you know, the States, Thailand, Malaysia. But the last two years I was in Australia.’
Ellen couldn’t help wondering how old he was. Not quite her age, but surely too old for that travelling bug, which had always seemed a bit too hippyish for her. It was the sort of thing she could easily imagine Clare doing. ‘It must be strange, coming back here.’
‘It’s fine. I was always going to come back, my father’s death just precipitated it. My mother was pleased, she’s been wanting me to settle down for ages.’
‘That’s good.’ Ellen hesitated. ‘She was a little confused about me though. She seemed to think I was a girlfriend? Someone who had come over to join you?’ Partly she wanted him to realise the way his mother’s mind had been working, but partly she was curious. She had thought of Kit as a solitary person, engrossed in his work and his house.
‘Did she really? That was Sal, my Australian girlfriend. Ex-girlfriend. I told Mum she was no longer coming over but she must have forgotten.’
Ellen tucked away this information for later consideration. So he really had meant to settle down, with a girlfriend. Perhaps he wasn’t so flaky. ‘Maybe she was extra forgetful, with the fall, and then a stranger like me turning up.’
‘I suppose it’s a good thing that I’m on hand now and can see exactly how she is.’
‘Don’t you have any brothers or sisters, someone to help?’ said Ellen. How she wished she had a sibling out there.
‘No, I’m an only child. I used to quite like that but now … I thought it would be OK if I came back and lived close by. But actually, she needs someone even closer on hand than I am, doesn’t she?’
‘I can hardly judge from the one meeting.’
‘But that’s what you think. That’s what I think, too. Either I should live with her myself or find some kind of live-in home help. Mrs McIver does her best, but a couple of hours a day isn’t enough any more.’
Ellen shrugged. This wasn’t something she knew anything about.
Kit sighed again, tapping his fingers restlessly on the table. ‘Anyway, let’s talk about something else. How are you doing?’ He shot her a smile and she realised that of all the people who had been dropping by he was the only one who hadn’t yet asked her that question. When he did, he seemed to want a real answer. He bent and lifted Monty onto his lap and stroked the dog’s wiry head, waiting patiently for a reply.
‘Struggling,’ she said, looking around the kitchen. Kit might have cleared away after their meal but there was still a pile of washing to fold and put away, paperwork piled up at the end of the table, children’s possessions everywhere. ‘Sometimes I think I’m just about coping, but it’s touch and go.’
‘It’s very sad,’ he said. ‘I miss Sam and Jessie and I’d only got to know them recently. For you and the children it’s a hundred times worse.’
‘It’s awful for the children,’ Ellen agreed quietly. ‘Terrible.’
‘And it’s not just them. I imagine it has totally messed up your life, too.’
‘Well,’ said Ellen, feeling she should protest. It was so selfish to think about how her life had been affected when it was so much worse for others. But she was too tired to be polite. She shrugged and said, ‘You’re right. It’s such a shock. Everything has changed so suddenly I don’t know where to start.’
‘Take it slowly. Always the best way.’
‘It’s a nice thought.’ She smiled. There was a calmness about Kit that was soothing. And, unlike Richard, he actually seemed to think she was doing all right.
‘One day at a time, that’s my motto.’ He smiled back. His whole face lit up. He had a very nice face.
They were both quiet for a while. Kit stroked Monty. Ellen was starting to let the peace sink into her.
Then she saw the clock and realised how late it was. She sat up straight. ‘But how can I take one thing at a time? There’s so much to do. And we really can’t expect you to spend so much time looking after the animals. I don’t think I realised quite how much you do. I’ve been taking advantage.’ She nodded determinedly. ‘If you would show me what needs doing, I’ll try and do it myself.’ Even as she spoke, her heart sank. All those lambs, and Melly and her weak new calf, and all the other in-calf cows.
‘No way, you’ve enough on your hands.’
‘No, really. If you give me a few instructions, I’ll take over.’
‘I’m more than happy to carry on helping out.’ He frowned, looking put out.
‘Just because you’re a vet and know what to do, I can’t let you carry on. And I should pay you for what you have done, especially the calving. Shouldn’t I?’ She felt embarrassed. It was the first time that she had realised she wasn’t just taking advantage of his time, but of his professional skills too.
‘Look, I said I’m happy to do it, OK?’ Kit sounded almost angry. He was looking away from her at the shadows. ‘It’s the least I can do. I was the one who encouraged Jess to book that holiday, and look what happened.’
Ellen stared at him. ‘This wasn’t your fault. It was – it was pure bad luck. It wasn’t anyone’s fault, unless it was that stupid idiotic taxi driver.’
‘But if I hadn’t encouraged them to go …’
‘Jess had been wanting to go away, planning this for months. If it comes down to it, I encouraged her just as much as you.’ Ellen shook her head. She had told Jess a trip away for her and Sam would be a marvellous thing (that was before she realised she was going to be asked to child-sit).
‘I told them travel was good for the soul,’ Kit said, grimly. ‘And I don’t even know if they believed in souls.’
They sat in silence for a moment. Ellen wished she believed in souls, believed that Jess and Sam were still somewhere.
Kit shook his head. ‘Anyway, that aside, I enjoy spending time with the animals. It’s more or less what I wanted to do myself, have a small-holding, be self-sufficient, you know?’
‘No,’ said Ellen honestly. She didn’t know, but she was relieved that the hard glint was fading from his eyes.
‘I’ll show you stuff, if you want, but really, there’s no hurry for you to take it all on.’
‘It seems so unfair. I should at least pay you.’
‘Consider you’re doing me a favour. It takes my mind off worrying about my mother.’ He looked up and smiled gently when he saw the concern on her face. ‘I mean it.’ He touched her hand.
She smiled back at him. It seemed that he really did mean it. ‘Thanks. That’s very kind of you.’
When he got up to take his leave, Kit gave her one of his quick, comforting hugs. She was sure this was instinct on his part, offering comfort, but again she was caught by surprise. And, even more unexpected, was how comfortable it felt to be in the circle of his arms. His touch sent a flicker of feeling through her she hadn’t expected. She looked up into those sleepy brown eyes and the flicker quivered again. Kit seemed to notice nothing, patting her on the back as though she were a dog or one of the children. This was ridiculous. She stepped back, and gave him a swift smile.
C
hapter Seven
It was a chill, damp morning. The brisk walk to school with Callum and Lucy had done nothing to dispel the cold that had settled deep inside Ellen. The grey sky seemed to weigh down on her and the faint, persistent drizzle was soaking her hair and dripping down her neck. The feeling of connection which she had experienced briefly with Kit had passed. The cloud was so low she couldn’t see the top of the hills. Even the dog seemed depressed, walking sadly along behind her.
Missing Jessie hit her unexpectedly at times like this. The pain of loss was like an ache right through her, no muscle would work, she just wanted to lie down and cry. It took conscious effort to put one foot in front of the other. Her face felt numb with the battle to keep back the tears. She would start to think she was getting over it, and then it all came swamping back. Jessie, her only sister, was gone, gone forever. No one to fight with, to resent, to trust. She can’t have gone, she can’t, Ellen wanted to scream to the still, green hills, but common sense prevailed, and she trudged on home.
She should be making the most of these weeks away from work. In her old life, she would be arriving at work just now, and the idea of a few weeks in the country would have seemed wonderful. But this wasn’t a holiday and no matter how hard she tried she couldn’t pretend it was any fun.
As she reached the last corner, she paused to survey the home that had been her sister’s pride and joy: the long, low, white-washed building, with tiny dormer windows in the slate roof. It was attractive, in a quaint sort of way. Which was a good thing, if it came to selling it. A shiver of anxiety went through her at the thought, and she hurried inside.
She was just about to switch the kettle on when her mother phoned. During the trudge home Ellen had wished her mother was there so they could discuss things. Now her mother was at the end of the phone she found that she couldn’t.
‘Is Dad OK?’ There was something in her mother’s tone that was worrying.
‘Yes, dear, he’s fine. He’s been a bit depressed, but the district nurse said that happens sometimes. He seems brighter today.’
Sunshine Through the Rain Page 6
