‘Aw, why can’t I do some chopping …?’
‘Because you’re helping Lucy with the horses.’
‘But …’
‘Get her started, at least, OK? And then you can maybe have a go with an axe.’
‘And can I ride Tony Pony?’ asked Lucy, bouncing in her seat.
‘Yes, if Cal will help you tack Tony up. Now, clear your places and off you go.’
The children did as they were told, not with enthusiasm, but at least they did it. She hoped Richard noticed.
He was tapping his fingers on the table and looking out of the side window at the hills. She thought he might be planning a route, but when he spoke it was to say, ‘You’ve got a lot of animals here, you know.’
‘I know.’
‘When would be the best time to sell them?’
Ellen shot a look towards the back porch, where the children were still pulling on coats and boots. She shook her head warningly at Richard.
‘What?’ he said, making no effort to lower his voice. ‘Have you still not told them you’re going to sell up? Come on Ellen, spring is by far the best time to put a house on the market, you’ll need to get a move on.’
‘We’re thinking about it,’ she said coolly. She was still watching the back porch and saw Angus glance towards them. His face was expressionless but he went out quickly and closed the door with a bang.
‘And what about that old wreck of a car you’ve got parked out there?’ said Richard, oblivious. ‘It’s just losing value sitting there, not to mention getting in the way. I can’t understand why you haven’t sold that, at least. You don’t need it, do you?’
‘No.’ Ellen had been reluctant to do so much as open the door, let alone drive it. It was still Jess and Sam’s car. ‘Yes, you’re right, that’s one thing I can do. I’ll get in touch with a garage this week.’
‘That would be sensible. Not that you’ll get much for it.’
Ellen didn’t really need to have yet another depressing fact pointed out to her. She said, ‘Perhaps I’ll start using it myself and sell my car. Jess and Sam’s is bigger, more practical with the kids.’ She smiled at Richard’s look of horror. How could she want to swap her shiny hatchback for that wreck?
She began to stack dishes in the sink, wishing yet again that Jess had believed in a dishwasher. Maybe if she sold the car she could invest the money in one?
After a while Richard said, ‘Now where’s that map? I suppose I might as well get going.’ He sat and waited for her to bring it to him. She didn’t know why she had been so keen for him to visit.
The walk cheered Richard and he returned looking more lively than he had done since his arrival. He even agreed to stay and eat with them, as Ellen had gone to the trouble of getting the roast ready early, but the meal wasn’t exactly enjoyable. Angus said nothing but glared a lot, and Richard’s glow of self-satisfaction diminished steadily as the normal bickering of the younger two grew in volume.
She went out with him to the car, to say goodbye in private. He held her close, the once-familiar arms encircling her. She felt nothing at all. ‘You’ll come up to Edinburgh soon?’ he said. ‘On your own?’
She kissed him softly on the cheek and withdrew. ‘No.’
‘But Ellen, it’s your turn now.’
‘It’s not so much about turns, is it, as about what’s possible.’
‘Anything is possible when you want it.’ The words sounded familiar to Ellen, but they no longer meant the same thing.
‘I’ll phone you,’ she said, compromising. ‘Take care.’
As he drove away she didn’t even feel sad. It had certainly been a change having another grown up in residence, but it hadn’t actually made life easier. And she was sure that the children hadn’t liked it. And just at the moment, she had to think of them. For the first time in her life she was putting other people first.
I’m doing my best, Jess, she said silently. I might not be doing it right but I am doing my best.
Chapter Eleven
Angus’s week of exclusion from school passed quickly, and he seemed happier than at any time since his parents’ death. He was definitely a solitary child, quite content to spend the whole day outside, scarcely exchanging a word with anyone. As far as Ellen could see, the only person he sought out voluntarily was Kit, and whether this was for his company or his advice about the animals wasn’t clear. He was a good worker, competent and conscientious. Surely a twelve year old shouldn’t be that conscientious? At times the tense set of his shoulders and concentration on his face made her want to weep.
One day she made him go into Dumfries with her and bought new school trousers, jeans, and T-shirts. He was a thin child, but had definitely shot up in the last couple of months, and the old clothes only added to his forlorn air. He thanked her, but without enthusiasm. She didn’t know if that was typical of a boy on the verge of his teens, or another sign that her nephew was unnaturally withdrawn.
On the drive back to Craigallan, she said, ‘Well, what am I going to tell that head teacher of yours?’ She found it easier to talk to him when she was driving, so they weren’t forced to look at each other. ‘He’s going to phone me tomorrow and he’ll want to know how you feel about going back to school.’
‘Fine. I said.’
‘Are you worried about those other kids picking on you again?’
‘No, I’m not scared of them.’
‘I’m certainly going to ask him to keep an eye on them. Little thugs.’
Out of the corner of her eye she saw the boy shrug, his favourite response when he didn’t want to speak.
‘I wondered, are there any kids that you would like to invite up to Craigallan?’
‘No.’ He sounded horrified.
‘There must be other farmers’ children at the school, people who are interested in animals like you.’
‘Mmm.’
‘Well, are there?’
‘They’re not like me.’
Ellen saw that as a chink in his implacable refusal to discuss his life with her. ‘What do you mean? Why aren’t they like you?’
There was a long pause. She thought he wasn’t going to answer, but he seemed to have been working out a response. ‘They’re interested in – other stuff. Football and computer games.’
‘You play football with Callum.’
‘Yeah, but I’m not interested in it.’
‘What are you interested in?’
No answer. Ellen decided to give up for now. In some strange way, she felt she had made progress. She would tell the rector that she was sure Angus had learnt his lesson and that she hoped the other boys had, too.
Ellen wasn’t normally a coward, but she had delayed and delayed phoning Richard. She knew she had to end things, and yet she hesitated. They had been together, in their way, for over five years.
It was Richard who phoned, eventually, more than a week after his visit. They exchanged pleasantries for a while, and Ellen felt that already he was a stranger.
‘How’s work going?’ she asked, thinking – why am I asking this? Do I care? She was procrastinating again.
‘Rather well, rather well. We’ve just landed ourselves a new contract which will keep me busier than ever.’
‘That’s good.’ Ellen knew that Richard loved to be busy. She realised that she didn’t have any idea how he would react to her finishing their relationship.
‘And how are you and the children?’ he asked heartily.
‘Fine. Well, as fine as can be expected.’
‘Excellent.’
Ellen took a deep breath to steal herself. ‘Richard, you know when you were down here?’
‘Er … yes? I’m afraid I won’t be able to get away again for a while, it’s a very difficult time just now. One of the other partners is on leave and with this new contract, you can imagine.’
And that was a lie. New contract or not, Richard had always been able to make time for those fun weekends in the country. This made Ellen feel
better. ‘I wasn’t going to suggest you come down again. More the opposite. I was thinking that perhaps you and I should, well, ease things off a bit. I’m down here with the kids and they have to come first and …’ She didn’t mean ease off, she meant finish, but suddenly she didn’t know how to say it.
‘You mean you’re going to stay down there?’
‘No. No, I’m planning to bring them back to Edinburgh. But it won’t be for a while and, well, I feel I’ve got to concentrate on them just now. I don’t have time for, for, for …’ she wasn’t quite sure what she didn’t have time for. ‘I’m sorry Richard.’ She wanted to say it was nothing personal. That was how it felt. She had never been attached to him on a personal level; they had just had two lifestyles that complimented each other. And now they didn’t.
‘I see,’ said Richard. ‘I see.’
‘I think it’s for the best,’ said Ellen.
‘Very well,’ he said. It seemed he wasn’t going to put up any protest. She wondered, briefly, how much he really cared. He would no longer have a partner for socialising, but she didn’t think it would take him long to find someone else. Good-looking, well-off (if selfish) single men were at a premium in Edinburgh. He would be all right. ‘Do keep in touch,’ he said politely.
She mouthed something similar in return. And that was that.
On a long weekend in early May, Ellen wandered down to see Clare.
‘I thought you might have taken the kids to Edinburgh again.’
Ellen sighed. ‘It wasn’t exactly a stunning success last time.’ She settled down to watch Clare battering a massive lump of clay.
‘You can’t tell anything from one visit,’ said Clare tossing the long, dark hair over her shoulder with a flick of her head. Ellen wondered why she didn’t tie it back. ‘They might come round. Want a coffee?’
‘No, I’m fine. I should get back to Cal and Sam soon.’
‘Is Angus still being difficult about his name?’
‘He’s still insisting on Sam, if that’s what you mean. I’m trying to get used to it.’
They sat in companionable silence for a while.
‘I don’t know how you can work with the kids about,’ said Ellen, looking around the studio, which was a less-than-weather-tight shed beside Clare’s cottage. The broad windows meant you could see the girls running around in the garden, and the thin walls allowed you to hear their screams too. ‘I’d be totally distracted.’
‘You get used to it. I kind of tune out unless it sounds like serious trouble. In fact, sometimes silence is more worrying than noise.’
‘I suppose. I get a lot of silence from Sam.’
‘He’s nearly a teenager. I’m sure it’s normal. So, have you done any house-hunting?’
‘I’ve been checking websites for places in West Lothian. But prices are horrendous. I know I’ll do well on my flat, but it’ll still be a struggle to find something big enough for all of us within commuting distance of Edinburgh.’
‘Not that I want to sway you or anything, but that could be a good argument in favour of you staying down here.’
Ellen grimaced and ran fingers through her hair. She still hadn’t managed to have it cut. ‘Don’t think I don’t realise that. But …’
‘But your job is in Edinburgh, as well as your boyfriend.’
‘Boyfriend no longer,’ said Ellen lightly.
‘Oh.’ This time Clare paused, holding grey-coated hands carefully away from her and she turned to study Ellen’s face. ‘I’m sorry. What happened?’
‘I decided to break it off. It’s not a big thing. If it couldn’t survive the pressure of the kids then it wasn’t meant to be, was it?’
‘It’s a shame though,’ said Clare gently. ‘It can be good to have a man around.’
Ellen was surprised. She expected that from her mother, but not from Clare. As far as she knew, Clare hadn’t had a long-term relationship since Grace’s handsome, unreliable father had moved out four or more years ago. ‘You manage without.’
‘I’ve had to. But, you know, I think it might be time for a change. Time I made an effort.’
Ellen was happy to be distracted from her own problems. ‘Have you got your eye on anyone at the moment? How about Kit Ballantyne?’ Ellen wished Kit hadn’t been the first man she thought of. ‘He’s single, isn’t he? And a very kind man too.’
Clare went back to her clay. ‘Kit’s a friend. And not really my type.’ She paused and raised an eyebrow at Ellen. ‘Although my sources tell me that you and he are pally enough for him to use your bathing facilities.’
Ellen hoped she wasn’t blushing. ‘Who told you that? Not that it means anything, of course.’
‘Mrs Jack, who do you think? You didn’t expect her to keep quiet, did you? Anyway, I think that pretty vet nurse has got her eye on Kit. Devon, I think her name is. I hear she’s talked him into going to the Dunmuir ceilidh with her.’
Ellen felt surprise and disappointment, on Clare’s behalf, of course. ‘That’s nice. I suppose.’
‘Are you going?’ asked Clare.
‘No. Who would I go with? And who would look after the kids?’ It was months since she had had an evening out, and a good ceilidh was just the thing to raise her spirits.
‘Take the kids with you, everyone else does. And you don’t need a partner, that’s why it’s all the more impressive that Devon has got Kit to go with her.’
‘When is it?’ Ellen could feel her interest growing.
‘A week on Friday.’
‘Are you going yourself?’
‘Of course. We could share transport. How about it?’
Ellen set off back up the hill with a swing to her step. While she was here she should make the most of what was on offer. It was odd how her spirits were raised by the idea of going to a small-town ceilidh.
Chapter Twelve
‘This is the second time this has happened! Cows all through my garden! It really isn’t good enough. I said last time, if I was inconvenienced like that again I would do something about it!’ A large woman with grey-blonde hair stood on the Craigallan door step, hands on hips, fury in her eyes.
‘The second time?’ said Ellen, faintly, rubbing sleep from her eyes sufficiently enough to recognise Mrs Jack.
‘Exactly! The last time was just before Christmas. They trampled the lawn and ruined the special wreath I had made for the front door, not to mention knocking down one of my garden ornaments. Some of us like to make an effort with our gardens, you know.’ She cast a disparaging glance at Craigallan’s weed-filled flowerbed. ‘I told Mr Moffat that it simply wouldn’t do.’
‘Oh,’ said Ellen. Surely the woman realised that Ellen hadn’t been responsible for the cows last December – and Sam Moffat was no longer around. ‘I’m really sorry this has happened. Er, where are the cows now?’ And how was she supposed to get them back?
‘I couldn’t possibly say. Half way through the village no doubt. Creating a major road hazard. Why is it farmers these days can’t keep their gates closed and their fences in good order? I could claim compensation, you know. It’s not good enough, people have no consideration …’
‘Thank you for letting me know,’ said Ellen, interrupting the flow. It would have been far better if the stupid woman had phoned, but no, she had to come and harangue Ellen on her own doorstep, and at six o’clock in the morning. No wonder Ellen’s brain was struggling to get in to gear. ‘I’ll get dressed and be straight down there.’
‘I knew it was a ridiculous idea, a woman and three children trying to run a farm. The sooner you see that for yourself, the better for all concerned. Especially your neighbours. I could have gone straight to the police, you know.’
‘I’m very glad you didn’t. Thank you for letting me know …’
‘Hrrmph,’ said Mrs Jack, and turned and marched back to her car. Clearly, she had no intention of helping round up the animals.
A small part of Ellen’s brain felt grim satisfaction that she was seeing Mrs
Jack in her true colours. She had known that caring attitude was just a front.
‘Angus!’ she shouted, as she closed the creaking front door. ‘Angus, get up now! In fact all of you, I need your help.’ Cows were such enormous animals and she really preferred it when they were on the other side of a fence to her.
The children, on the other hand, seemed rather to enjoy the occasion. They grumbled about being woken up, but once dressed they began to giggle about past break outs and how lucky it was they didn’t still have that bull, he was a real escapologist and a nightmare to get back in again. Ellen hoped the cows weren’t going to start getting bolshie, she didn’t want any more damage. She had only just had the car’s front wing repaired.
They drove down the road and caught up with the herd milling round in the centre of Kinmuir village. Ellen quailed at the sight of them but Angus took in the situation at a glance. ‘Stop here. I’ll go through the church yard and cut them off before they go further. Come on, Cal, you can come with me. Aunt Ellen, all you and Lucy need to do is get the car out of the way and walk on ahead of them back to Craigallan. Make sure there are no gates open into other fields, and stop them going back into that woman’s garden. Or Clare’s.’
He and Callum had jumped out and disappeared before Ellen had time to protest that it surely wasn’t that simple. She shifted the car and gave Lucy what she hoped was an encouraging smile. Five minutes later, Angus and Callum appeared around the corner, driving the cattle in front of them. The cows were heading more or less in the right direction, but their calves kept doubling back, panicking at a rustling branch or banging gate. That would set the cows into a swirl of indecision and stop any progress up the road. They were such brainless beasts. The only good thing was it was so early no one else was about.
Then, when they had progressed less than a hundred yards back up the lane, Ellen heard a car approaching. Wasn’t it just typical that today of all days some idiot would decide to get up at the crack of dawn and need to get by? She turned around, trying to put a pleasant, placating smile on her face, and saw Kit Ballantyne leap out of the vehicle.
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