Sunshine Through the Rain

by Gilly Stewart

  ‘Yes!’ she yelled, an hour and countless phone calls later. ‘Eureka!’

  The children came back through at once. They must have been listening.

  ‘Someone’s going to fix it?’

  ‘Yes indeed. A very nice man called Mr Kirkpatrick is coming out tomorrow morning. Right, what are you lot up to? Need more food? How about fruit?’

  ‘But I don’t like fruit,’ said Lucy. ‘Can’t I have another yoghurt? Please?’

  ‘I’m not hungry,’ said Angus, looking at the fruit bowl which contained a couple of bruised apples and a blackened banana.

  ‘Suit yourself,’ said Ellen, her brief good mood evaporating. Where did all the food go? She could have sworn she’d bought enough to feed a small army. ‘Oh, go on, have yoghurts, if there are any left.’

  ‘Or maybe an ice cream?’ said Callum hopefully.

  ‘Yoghurts or nothing. And then it’s your bedtime, Lucy. Goodness, how did it get to be so bl … so late?’

  Kit came to say farewell before departing to his lair. He declined her half-hearted offer of a drink, seeming a little offended that she hadn’t let him do more on the roof. Well, if he was annoyed and stayed away over the weekend, it wouldn’t be a bad thing. Ellen couldn’t somehow see Kit and Richard getting along.

  Chapter Ten

  Ellen was looking forward to Richard’s visit. The thought of his sensible grown-up presence cheered her. She wouldn’t be alone with the children. She would have someone to share her concerns with. She found herself glancing down the road at least half an hour before he was due to arrive.

  Lucy had been invited to spend the day with Clare’s daughter Grace, and Callum and Angus were out in the fields.

  They embraced warmly when he arrived, only slightly late. ‘Come in, come in. Good drive down? Shame it’s raining but I’m sure it’ll clear. April showers seem to be the order of the day.’ The roofer had already been and put a temporary patch on the kitchen roof, so at least she didn’t have to worry about that.

  Richard followed her into the kitchen and looked around. He had been here only once before, after the funeral, and it had probably looked different then. Tidier, definitely. Ellen felt defensive. ‘Cup of coffee? Want to put your bags in the bedroom? Shall I show you around?’

  ‘Coffee would do for a start. And then I rather fancy a look over the property. It’s certainly strikes me as a place with potential.’

  Potential wasn’t one of Ellen’s favourite words. It implied there was something wrong with the here and now, but she smiled and nodded. It was strange seeing Richard here. He looked so smart. All his clothes looked new, and clean. They were country wear, sure enough, but not as Jess or Sam or Kit would have known it. She hoped he’d taken her advice and brought some Wellingtons.

  Over coffee Richard brought her up to date on their Edinburgh friends, and his progress at work. Ellen was just starting to relax and get back into the swing of this kind of conversation when the back door burst open and Callum came flying in, holding one hand with the other.

  Couldn’t they have stayed outside just a little longer?

  ‘My hand. Oh. Ow. My hand.’ He stopped short when he saw Richard.

  Ellen stood up and tried to make her tone sympathetic. ‘What is it, Cal? Are you OK?’

  ‘Angus made me do the gate for the top field and I told him I couldn’t do it and he said I had to ’cos he was carrying the feed and I caught my finger. And it’s so-ore.’

  ‘I told you to be careful with those gates,’ said Ellen, pushing his hand under the cold tap and holding it there despite his protests. It was bleeding from under a flap of skin on the thumb.

  ‘Can’t you stop now? It’s sore.’

  ‘OK. Hold it over the sink while I get some kitchen towel.’

  Callum did as requested, wiping his tears away with his other hand and leaving dirty streaks down his face. He sniffed.

  ‘Hello there,’ said Richard.

  ‘This is my friend Richard, remember I told you he was coming for the weekend?’

  Callum dipped his head. ‘’Lo.’ The children didn’t seem to be too good on the social skills front. Something else for her to think about.

  Ellen dried the injured hand and wrapped a clean piece of kitchen towel around the thumb. ‘Keep that on until it stops bleeding. It shouldn’t be long.’

  ‘OK.’ He sniffed again. ‘Can I go on the computer for a bit?’

  ‘I don’t see why not,’ she said, giving him a quick hug. He looked so sorrowful. Perhaps he had had a bit of a shock. ‘Just until the bleeding stops, then we’ll put a plaster on it and you can go back out and help Angus.’

  ‘You’re going to have to learn not to be so soft on them,’ said Richard when they were alone once again. ‘I thought you said they all had to help out? Are you sure he wasn’t just looking for an excuse to get out of his chores?’

  ‘As it happens, yes I am. That was a nasty cut, there’s no way he would have done it on purpose.’

  ‘You don’t know how manipulative children can be. Take my word for it.’

  ‘Hmm,’ said Ellen. She didn’t want to start arguing yet.

  Kit was careful to keep away from Craigallan over the weekend. He didn’t want to intrude, although he wouldn’t have minded seeing what Ellen Taylor’s boyfriend looked like. It wasn’t even Ellen who had told him the man was visiting. He had heard of it, along with many other odd bits of information, from the children.

  Those poor motherless, fatherless children.

  Why had Jess and Sam gone away, to that city, taken that taxi, been in that accident? He remembered once again the delight on Jessie’s face as she had told him she had booked. He went over the memories tentatively. Was Ellen right, that it was no one’s fault? That he couldn’t have stopped them, even if he’d wanted to? He kicked savagely at a lump of soil left by Robbie’s digger, scattering the dirt. Even if it wasn’t his fault, but he couldn’t stop the regrets.

  He checked on the sheep with Angus on the Saturday evening. Walking in the fields wasn’t intruding, was it? They circled the field a couple of times, in what Kit hoped was a companionable silence. One of the second batch of ewes was clearly starting to lamb and they hunkered down to watch. She looked all right, it wasn’t her first time and he doubted she’d have any trouble, but it was good sometimes to see a normal, healthy birth. And he guessed she was carrying twins. As there were sometimes complications with the second lamb, it was worth hanging around to check.

  Half an hour later the ewe was licking clean her new offspring, and Kit was feeling that things couldn’t be all wrong with the world when you could witness something like that.

  ‘You going to overnight them in the byre?’ he said to Angus. ‘Want me to give you a hand moving them down?’

  The boy looked doubtful. ‘Dad said he was going to leave the blackies out this year …’

  ‘Well, and no reason why not, as long as the weather doesn’t turn and you don’t have a particularly sickly lamb.’

  ‘You think it’ll be OK?’

  ‘More than likely. They’re sturdy animals. You don’t need to worry about them, Angus. Now, if it was those soft Suffolk crosses …’

  The boy smiled faintly, seeing the joke. ‘I’ll put them inside when their time comes.’

  ‘Good lad. Well, I’d best be off now. And perhaps you should go in too?’

  ‘I’ll go in in a bit.’

  Angus glanced at the lighted window of the kitchen, and Kit could feel his animosity. He was finding it difficult enough to adapt to life with his aunt. The boyfriend made it even worse. Kit wondered if Ellen would move the children to Edinburgh, take them to live with this man. He didn’t like the idea. But it really wasn’t his problem and even if it was, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

  He had a very brief spruce up and then headed into Dunmuir, where he’d agreed to meet Deb and Alistair for a drink.

  ‘You’re looking bright and cheery,’ said Deb as the
y settled at a table by the fire. ‘Not.’

  ‘Bloody Building Control.’ Kit would rather talk about that than Jess and Sam, or Ellen and the kids. And it was true, things weren’t going as well with the house as he would have liked. Either the weather was awful, or the digger driver had other commitments, or that irritating man from the Council needed to come out and tick some boxes before they could move on to the next stage.

  ‘Ah.’ Deb nodded sympathetically. ‘What is it this time? Foundations too shallow? Septic tank not in the right place?’

  Kit gave a faint smile. He’d clearly moaned about this quite a lot already. ‘No, those things are sorted now. But they don’t like the design of the porches. And they want me to change the cement mix. It’s a special one, low environmental impact, and it makes so much sense …’

  Even if Alistair and Deb didn’t share his enthusiasm for environmental issues, they were sympathetic. The evening progressed and his mood was improving nicely until Deb said, ‘And how’s your mother doing?’

  Kit grimaced. ‘Not great. I took her to see Dr Gilmour last week. I’m getting really worried about these falls.’ Kit ran a hand through his hair. ‘She thinks Mum may be having some mini-strokes and that’s what’s causing them. She’s referring her to a specialist at the hospital.’

  ‘That’s good, then,’ said Alistair, but it sounded more like a question than a statement.

  ‘She’s lucky to have you so close,’ said Deb.

  ‘Probably not close enough.’

  ‘It’s never easy when your parents get old.’ Deb patted his hand sympathetically. ‘And your mother is such a dear.’

  ‘She has her moments.’ Kit supressed a shudder. The word stroke still made him quail. He wasn’t sure his mum had even taken them in. She’d just nodded and smiled, even when Dr Gilmour had mentioned it might be time to think about getting her more help in the house. Or even for her to move elsewhere …

  Kit rose to his feet and offered to buy the next round. After that he’d make sure they talked about something else. He’d rather spend a whole week doing small animal clinics than break the news to his mother that she was no longer fit to stay in her own home.

  ‘Angus. I mean Sam. We need to have a chat.’

  ‘Mmm.’

  It was Sunday morning and Ellen still hadn’t managed to talk properly to him about what had happened at school. She needed a time when they were alone and when his mood wasn’t one of outright antagonism. Not easy in that constantly busy household, and Richard’s visit only made it worse.

  Ellen knew the child didn’t want to talk, and she could sympathise. She didn’t particularly want to have this discussion herself. She had left Richard reading the Sunday papers and Callum and Lucy playing upstairs, and followed Angus out to the byre. She had expected to find him busy as usual, sweeping or putting out food, but instead he had been standing perfectly still, with his head resting on the neck of Melanie, his favourite cow, his face averted. He stood upright when he saw her.

  Ellen turned over a metal bucket and sat down on it. ‘How are you doing?’

  ‘OK.’ The cow put her head over the top of the stall and nudged him, and he patted her absently.

  ‘I can see that things aren’t that great at school. That’s what I wanted to talk about.’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘Your mum didn’t think so.’

  He shot her an angry look, tossing back the flopping fringe. ‘How would you know?’

  ‘I know she was worried about you. She’d spoken about it to Grandma. But I don’t know any details, so I’m hoping that you might be able to fill me in.’

  Over the last few weeks Ellen had learned that Dunmuir Academy was considered to be a ‘good’ school. It was small enough for the teachers and pupils to know each other reasonably well, and most of the children came from Dunmuir or the surrounding villages, not an area known for social problems. Which didn’t mean things couldn’t still go wrong.

  ‘Angus?’

  He eyed the door out into the farm yard with longing. ‘It’s … I’m OK. I’ll go back next week. It’ll be fine. Now I need to …’

  ‘No, it’s not OK.’ Ellen rose slightly and pulled open the collar of the muddied shirt he wore. She touched the bruises on his neck. She’d heard him telling Callum he got them in rugby, but she didn’t believe him. ‘Those boys really hurt you. I don’t know what you did to provoke them, but I’m not having this.’

  ‘I didn’t do anything. I was just standing in the …’ He stopped and glared.

  ‘You were standing in the dinner queue and they picked on you?’ He didn’t deny it. ‘Has this been going on for long?’

  ‘A bit.’

  ‘You should tell your teachers. Or me. Angus, you can’t let them bully you.’

  ‘It’s nothing.’ He tried to sound bored, but she saw the slight quiver of his lip.

  ‘I’m trying to help, Angus. I really care about you. I want what’s best.’

  ‘Then call me Sam, not Angus.’

  ‘Sorry. Sam. Now the school are aware there’s a problem I hope they’ll keep an eye on things. Do you want me to come up to school more often? Drop you off and pick you up? I could do that for a while, if it would help.’

  ‘No!’ He looked so horrified she had to smile.

  ‘Well, we’ve got a few weeks to think about it. Which reminds me, what are we going to say to Cal and Lucy?’

  ‘I’ve told them I’ve been suspended.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘This morning.’

  Ellen must have been too preoccupied with Richard to notice. ‘Did you tell them why?’

  ‘I said it was a fight.’ His expression brightened fractionally. ‘Callum thinks he should get a week off school too, ’cos he’s always getting into fights.’

  ‘Is he?’ Ellen was worried. What sort of problems did Callum have that she didn’t know about?

  ‘Just normal stuff. Playing, like. He used to love play-fighting with Dad.’

  Ellen remembered the riotous rough and tumble evenings, when Sam finally relaxed and all three children climbed over him like puppies. That was something else they were missing out on.

  ‘There’s something I’d like you to think about,’ said Ellen as she rose to her feet. ‘You don’t have to stay at that school if you don’t want. There are at least three secondary schools in Dumfries if you wanted to change.’

  ‘Go to school in Dumfries?’

  ‘It’s a possibility. Another possibility is …’ Ellen took a deep breath. She’d never said this in so many words before. ‘If we move to Edinburgh, you would go to school there. You could choose one for yourself.’

  ‘I’m not moving to Edinburgh!’ His expression, which had been interested at the mention of Dumfries, was now pure horror. ‘This is our home. We live here. I’m not leaving!’

  ‘We haven’t decided anything yet. It was just something I wanted you to think about …’ She put a hand on his arm, but he shrugged it off.

  Richard spent the morning indoors, reading his way steadily through the mass of Sunday supplements. Ellen was surprised, and a little disappointed. He was normally the one up early and planning the route for the day’s climb, having organised someone else to make breakfast for him. She had hoped that that sort of interest might translate into helping around the farm.

  After a light Sunday lunch he stretched out long, Rohan-clad legs and suggested, ‘How about a walk? Any good hills around here?’

  Ellen could feel her spirits sinking further. The children weren’t keen on ‘walks’, and would never manage the sort of hill that Richard would have in mind.

  ‘There isn’t anything very challenging nearby,’ she said cautiously. ‘Criffel is the nearest big hill and that’s the other side of Dumfries, and not exactly difficult.’

  ‘We went up Criffel once for Dad’s birthday,’ said Callum, bringing a third slice of toast back to the table. ‘It took for ever. Dad had to carry Lucy.’

/>   ‘That was ages ago. I was a baby then.’

  ‘I thought we were going to chop wood this afternoon,’ said Angus.

  Ellen sighed quietly. ‘That was a possibility,’ she said. It had been Angus’s suggestion. They were running short of firewood and it had seemed a good idea to tackle the problem while Richard was around. She knew next to nothing about saws and axes, but surely he would help? She turned to him now and said, ‘Any good at chopping wood?’ Kit would have known exactly what to do.

  He frowned. ‘Not really my idea of a fun Sunday afternoon. I’d rather stretch my legs, get a bit of fresh air before heading back to Old Reekie.’

  ‘You’re only going back tomorrow morning, aren’t you?’

  ‘No, I thought I’d get the driving over with today. And from what you said of school mornings here, I thought you’d rather have me out of the way.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ellen tried to smile. She was going to be on her own with the children again. ‘But you’ll stay for supper? I’ve got a joint of beef, I thought I’d have a go at a proper Sunday dinner.’ But not roast chicken. That brought back too many awful memories.

  ‘Perhaps. It would have been easier if you’d cooked it at lunchtime. I really don’t want to leave here too late.’

  ‘Well, thank you very much,’ said Ellen sharply. ‘Suit yourself, why don’t you?’ She suddenly realised what a strain it was having Richard and the children making their different demands on her. It clearly hadn’t occurred to him that he was here to help. All four of them reacted identically to her tone, pausing to stare and then looking away.

  Richard said, conciliatory, ‘Sorry. Is that a problem? I suppose we should have discussed it before.’

  Ellen sighed, not even trying to smother the sound, and stood up to begin clearing the table. ‘Look, you go for a walk if that’s what you want to do. There’s an Ordnance Survey map around here somewhere. There aren’t any very exciting hills but I’m sure you can pick out a reasonable route. Angus and I will have a go at the wood pile. Cal and Lucy can bring the horses in and groom them’