Sunshine Through the Rain

by Gilly Stewart

  ‘Goodness me,’ he said cheerfully. ‘Do we have a bit of a problem here?’

  She had been determined not to call him for help, but she couldn’t deny it was good to see him.

  ‘Kit!’ shouted Angus, the relief clear in his voice. ‘Have you got some rope in the car? I was thinking we’d get on better if I could lead one of the cows, but I don’t have a harness.’

  ‘That boy’s got brains,’ said Kit approvingly, and swung back to his car.

  Kit found a rope to sling around the neck of Angus’s favourite, Melanie, and agreed she would probably walk better for him than Kit. He then moved his car on to the verge and took Angus’s place at the back of the herd. Progress was now steady, if not exactly orderly.

  Not to be outdone, Ellen went to help him, but all this achieved was to make her feel silly as she flapped her arms about. The animals seemed to respond twice as quickly to Kit as to her.

  Eventually they closed the Craigallan gate firmly behind the last miscreant. ‘Thank you so much,’ said Ellen. ‘I really appreciate your help. Again.’

  Kit smiled his lazy smile. ‘Always a pleasure. Which reminds me, I was off out to a call. Something about a sick llama, as if I know anything about llamas …’ He raised a hand in a vague farewell and loped off down the road to where he had abandoned his car.

  Ellen felt nervous about visiting Kit in his caravan. She realised guiltily this was the first time she had ever been to visit him. He had been so helpful to her, but she had never really made an effort in return, never been to see how his life was progressing. She had resented rather than appreciated him. And now here she was, about to ask for his help again.

  It was a cool, still late afternoon in early June. There had been rain during the day (when wasn’t there?) but at the last moment the sun had appeared and the rays picked out all the different greens of the hills and the valley. She was knowledgeable enough now to see that the brighter fields were the ones not currently being grazed, and to wonder why the farmer who owned the land adjacent to Craigallan hadn’t put his stock on it yet. She would never have thought of things like that a few months ago.

  The track to Kit’s plot of land was steeper than she expected. It climbed up beside the copse and then swung round suddenly to the flat area where the house was to be built. It was a good position. Being slightly higher, the views were even better than those from Craigallan. You could see the shape of the valley, a long oval saucer, with the good grassland along the sides of the burn, and the narrow tarmac road on one ridge. Not a car in sight.

  While Ellen waited for the caravan door to open, she tried to place the music that was resounding within. American. Kind of rock. She hadn’t brought any of her own music down from Edinburgh, and hadn’t felt inclined to try out any of Jess and Sam’s. It felt suddenly good to hear the thud of a good baseline once again.

  ‘Well hello.’ Kit looked surprised by her appearance on his doorstep. He wore muddy tracksuit bottoms and an unbuttoned fleece shirt. His feet were bare. He wasn’t expecting visitors. ‘What brings you up here?’

  ‘It’s a lovely afternoon. Monty needed a walk.’

  ‘Excellent idea. You want to come in?’ He stood back and gestured her inside. ‘It’s a mess.’ Which it was, but a pleasant one. The caravan was bigger and scruffier than it looked from afar. Inside it was mostly one room, with bench seats, tables, and work surfaces all littered with clothes, books, mugs, and papers. He turned down the music with one hand and cleared a pile of books from one bench with the other. ‘Have a seat. D’you want some coffee? I might just be able to find two clean mugs. Or there’re beers in the fridge if you prefer.’

  ‘A beer’d be brilliant. I didn’t know you had a fridge.’

  ‘All mod cons here.’ He flashed her a grin. ‘As long as it doesn’t rain, it’s great.’

  ‘Steve Earle,’ she said with satisfaction, as she took a first long drink of beer from the can. Glasses weren’t offered.

  ‘Steve …? Yeah, d’you like his stuff? Some of it’s a bit rough but the man’s got talent.’

  Ellen hadn’t heard the music for years, and hadn’t realised until that moment that she did like it. ‘It’s got a certain something.’

  ‘D’you want me to switch it off? Something quieter?’

  ‘No, no, it’s fine.’ She took another drink and made room for Monty beside her.

  Kit said, ‘Cows all recovered from their outing? And have you heard any more from our good friend Mrs Jack? Callum said she was threatening to complain.’

  ‘The cows are fine. And Mrs Jack doesn’t seem to have gone to anyone in authority. Thank goodness.’

  Kit pulled a face. ‘I wouldn’t put anything past that woman.’

  ‘Nor would I.’

  Ellen remembered the way the stupid woman had spread stories about him using the washing facilities at Craigallan. Maybe that was why he wasn’t coming down so often.

  They chatted for a while. It would have been nice just to relax and forget she had come here for a reason.

  Eventually she shifted in her seat and decided to get to the point. ‘I wanted to ask you something. A couple of things, actually.’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  Now she had the opportunity, she hesitated.

  ‘It’s about Angus. You know he was suspended from school last month?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Did he tell you himself?’

  ‘No.’ Kit pulled a face. ‘One of the others mentioned it.’

  ‘I’m worried about him. He won’t really tell me what happened. In fact, I can’t get through to him at all. He’s back at school but I don’t think he’s any happier. I get the feeling that he trusts you, likes you, more than me, and I wondered if he had said anything …?’

  Kit said cautiously, ‘He’s a good lad.’

  ‘I know that. But he’s got his bad points too. It’s driving me mad, his never talking.’

  ‘He’s had a rough time recently.’

  ‘You think I don’t know that?’

  ‘Of course you do.’ His tone was gentle, sympathetic. She should really stop over-reacting. It was just so hard not to feel criticised, when she herself felt she was so useless.

  ‘I’m really worried about him, or I wouldn’t ask.’ Ellen paused.

  Kit narrowed his eyes and looked at her over the top of his drink. ‘Ask?’

  ‘Whether you could try and have a word with him. See if you can find out what is worrying him, if there’s anything I can do about it.’

  ‘I don’t know if he would talk to me.’ He took a swig from his can. ‘I mean it when I say Angus, Sam, I mean, is a good kid. But I don’t know that he’s an easy one.’

  ‘You can’t expect it, after what has happened.’ Now Ellen was the one jumping to Angus’s defence.

  ‘I know. But even before, was he an easy kid? I’m not saying losing his mum and dad hasn’t affected him, it’s bound to have, but I don’t think it changes your personality overnight, you know? He’s got a lot going for him. He’s bright and conscientious. But don’t you think he’s a bit, well, snooty with it? He’s got something about him that puts other kids off.’

  ‘Cal and Lucy think the world of him.’

  ‘That’s different.’

  ‘He’s being bullied at school. I’m absolutely sure of that, even if he won’t admit it.’

  Kit mulled her words over and said, ‘Aye, I can see that might happen.’

  ‘You just said he was snooty. That seems to imply he is superior.’

  ‘Maybe I should have said reserved. That kind of thing doesn’t make you so popular.’

  ‘But it’s so awful. I don’t want it to happen. How can I stop it?’

  He shrugged. ‘Aren’t you a teacher yourself? Don’t you have experience of it from your work?’

  ‘I’m a college lecturer. The youngest kids I deal with are seventeen, most are older. I don’t know anything about youngsters.’

  ‘And Angus hasn’t said anything
to you since going back to school?’

  ‘He says it’s fine. But I’m sure he’s worried. I’d really appreciate it if you could sound him out.’

  ‘I’ll see,’ Kit said, but he didn’t sound hopeful. She wondered if he thought she was being underhand. But what else could she do? The direct approach hadn’t worked. ‘I’ll try,’ said Kit, which seemed a little more positive.

  ‘Thanks.’

  Ellen paused. This next topic was one she felt even more nervous about. She took a deep breath. ‘The other thing I wanted to ask you about was the animals. Selling the animals.’

  There was a sudden stillness. Kit said nothing, he didn’t even move, but the feeling of withdrawal was definite. Monty butted her arm and whimpered quietly, as though he too disapproved.

  Ellen hurried on, ‘I know Angus-Sam is adamant that he wants to stay here, but it’s really not possible. My life is in Edinburgh and … Anyway, I just wanted to know when the best time would be to sell if we do decide to go down that road. I need to know these things, don’t I? And how much the stock is worth, things like that.’

  ‘I’m probably not the best person to ask.’

  ‘I thought, being a vet, you might have some idea …’

  ‘It’s not really my field of expertise.’

  The tone of the conversation had changed.

  ‘I’m just taking soundings at the moment. I suppose I’ll have to go to a stock auctioneer, or something, but I thought you would have some idea.’

  Kit was silent for so long she thought he might not answer at all. He sat tapping his fingers on his thigh, not looking at her. Then he said abruptly, ‘I’m really not sure this is the right thing to do.’

  ‘What?’ Ellen hadn’t expected enthusiasm, but the outright opposition took her by surprise. ‘I beg your pardon?’

  Kit frowned at her. ‘Listen, do you think it’s wise to decide something so serious so soon? Sam and Jess spent a very long time building up Craigallan, and as you know, Angus is very attached to the place. Aren’t there other options?’

  ‘I don’t consider this soon,’ said Ellen coolly. ‘I’ve had over three months to think about it. And it’s not getting any easier. You saw the hassle we had with the cows.’

  ‘I never think it’s a good idea to rush into things.’

  ‘I am not rushing into this. Never mind, forget it. There are other people I can ask.’ She could feel her temper rising. Why was he being so negative? The fact she had her own doubts made it all the more infuriating.

  ‘I’m sorry, I’m doing this all wrong.’ Kit ran his fingers through his already ruffled hair and sighed. ‘What I meant to say was, have you definitely made up your mind?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ellen firmly, raising her chin. ‘Yes, I have.’ She didn’t tell him she hadn’t yet discussed it with the children. ‘Running a farm, even a small farm, is far too much for me and the children. You know that better than anyone.’

  She narrowed her eyes, daring him to deny it. Helping out as he had done over the last few months just wasn’t sustainable.

  He let out a long, slow breath, suddenly deflated. When he did speak, it was in business-like tones. ‘OK. Obviously, it’s best not to sell the lambs quite yet, they’ll fetch a far better price if they’re fat lambs, which means another month or so. You’ll get a good price then, first lamb of the year. As for the calves, better to hang onto them for a while. But other stock it doesn’t make a whole lot of difference. You won’t get much for the hens, or the horses. The horses you’d do best to advertise in a specialist paper.’

  Ellen said hesitantly, ‘You wouldn’t be interested in buying any of them yourself?’

  ‘Me?’

  ‘I don’t know how much land you have, but you once mentioned you’d like to go into small-holding.’

  ‘I’ve only got a couple of acres. And I don’t have the time.’ Which begged the question of how he had managed to help them so much up to now. ‘Angus lives for those animals, you know.’

  ‘There’s more than just Angus to think of,’ she snapped. ‘And moving to Edinburgh would solve the school problem, at least.’

  ‘Solve it or displace it?’

  She glared but didn’t answer.

  He looked at his watch. ‘Well, is that everything? I really should pop down to see my mother.’

  Ellen was sure that was just an excuse. She put down her empty can. She could take a hint, and anyway she had to go and collect the kids. She rose and Monty immediately followed her. At least someone liked her.

  She was hurt by Kit’s disapproval. Did he think this was easy for her? That she was looking forward to separating Angus from everything he loved? But someone had to sensible around here.

  She could feel tears rising to her eyes, which was ridiculous. It had nothing to do with Kit – she was an independent woman who did what she wanted. She grinned wryly at the thought and wiped away the tears. Ha! That was a bit of a joke now, wasn’t it? She had to do what the children needed her to do, and that took away her independence more than she could possibly have imagined.

  She continued to fume as she arrived back at Craigallan. What was it to Kit, anyway? Did he think she could uproot herself, learn to run a farm, find a job in Dumfries, just like that? She didn’t even know if there were any Further Education establishments in Dumfries.

  Later, as she lay trying and failing to get to sleep in the uncomfortable spare bed, it occurred to her that it wouldn’t do any harm to find out if there were any possible employers in the area.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Ellen was getting ready for the ceilidh and Lucy was sitting on the bed in the spare room amidst the mounds of clothes, watching preparations with interest.

  ‘Are you going to wear that?’ she said, looking Ellen up and down with pursed, disapproving lips. She reminded Ellen of Jess.

  ‘What’s wrong with it?’ Ellen tried to see herself in the tiny mirror. She had put on loose black linen trousers and a short-sleeved pale pink top. She thought it would be comfortable for dancing.

  ‘You’ve got so many pretty things.’ Lucy fingered a silky dresses that lay on the bed. ‘I like pretty things.’

  Ellen dropped a hand briefly on the soft blonde hair. Lucy was such a girly girl, it was easy to forget her amidst the needs of boys and farm. ‘I’m glad you do, darling. But I don’t think they’re quite the right thing for a ceilidh, surely?’

  ‘Grace’s mum is going to wear her green and gold party dress, Grace said so. And her new sparkly sandals. And you’re much prettier than her, even if you do have short hair. You should wear a dress, too.’

  Ellen stood looking down at her niece, trying to decipher her words. Ellen was pretty, short hair wasn’t pretty, she should be keeping up with Grace’s mother Clare. She touched her hair, which she had finally managed to have cut. She really wasn’t used to this girly talk.

  ‘I prefer trousers.’

  ‘You always wear trousers. This is a party. You should wear a dress.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Ellen wasn’t convinced. It was so long since she had dressed up, and then it had been dinners in smart Edinburgh restaurants, or even a visit to Richard’s favourite, discreet nightclub. She didn’t think those sort of outfits would look right in Dunmuir. She’d rather play it safe. ‘Maybe I’ll dress up another time. But what about you? Haven’t you got a special party dress you want to wear?’

  Lucy was easily distracted. She bounced off the bed. ‘I’ve got some things. Come and see. You can help me choose.’

  Ellen still felt she was trespassing whenever she went up the steep stairs to the upper floor of the house. True, she had to go there to tidy the children’s rooms, sort out their clothes, muck out the bathroom. But she kept these tasks to a minimum. She hadn’t been able to face the ordeal of emptying Jess and Sam’s room, and until she did perhaps she would never feel at ease up here.

  Lucy glanced at the door to her parents’ room at the end of the corridor, but she said nothing. Her expressio
n didn’t even change. She had got over the tears, the crumpling every time she remembered. Ellen wished she knew what was going on inside that small head.

  And as if on cue, as Lucy pulled a filmy, three-layered white lacy dress from her wardrobe, tears began to well up. She held the material against herself, watching her reflection in the mirror. ‘Mummy and Daddy bought me this for Christmas.’ She sniffed. ‘Mum bought me a bigger size, ’cos she said it was really a summer dress. I really really loved it.’

  The dress was long and sleeveless, with a bodice embroidered with tiny pink flowers, and the layered skirt floated as she moved. Ellen could remember just enough about being seven years old to imagine how like a fairy princess it could make you feel.

  ‘It’s beautiful. Do you want to wear it tonight?’

  Lucy’s face was solemn, the hint of tears still in her eyes. ‘Do you think Mummy would have said yes?’

  ‘I think this is exactly the sort of occasion Mummy would have bought it for. Why don’t you try it on and we’ll see how it looks?’

  Thankfully, the tears receded. Once Lucy had stripped off her leggings and sweatshirt and slid the filmy garment over her head, her excitement returned. She twisted and turned, preening herself in front of her mirror which was a lot more useful than the tiny one in the guest bedroom. ‘It fits me now. I must have growed.’

  ‘Yes, darling, I think you have.’ Ellen swallowed the lump in her own throat and said determinedly, ‘Now, what about shoes? Have you got anything pretty enough to go with it? Ooh, those are nice. And then you better start getting the tangles out of your hair while I go and see how the boys are getting on.’

  The ceilidh was in the Dunmuir Community Centre, a drab 1970s building that saw constant use, Dunmuir being that sort of active small town. The band consisted of drummer, accordion player, and fiddler, fronted by a jovial man to call the dances. He knew most of those present by name, and according to Clare wasn’t afraid to use this fact if he thought there weren’t enough people on the dance floor, or the dancers weren’t taking the steps seriously enough. Ellen tried to picture Richard in these surroundings, and failed.