Sunshine Through the Rain

by Gilly Stewart

  ‘I’m having fun.’

  ‘Good.’ He nodded approvingly. ‘And perhaps when the band starts up again you’ll give me a dance?’ He hadn’t thought that was the reason he had come over here, but now it seemed that it was.

  Ellen blushed very faintly. She said lightly, ‘That’s very kind of you. Although there’s someone looking daggers at me over there who might not be too pleased.’

  ‘Sssh, don’t look, if you give her any encouragement she’ll be over here like a shot.’ Kit knew it was bad manners to criticise your date, but it was important that Ellen knew it hadn’t been his idea to bring a partner. ‘Next time I’ll be more careful about what I let myself be talked in to.’

  Now Ellen looked amused, thin eyebrows raised in question. He saw that she, too, had made an effort for the evening. She wore more make-up than he had ever seen on her, but hers was tasteful and low key, the way everything about Ellen Taylor seemed to be. Kit put his head on one side and met her questioning stare with a smile. He was just wondering why it had never occurred to him to invite Ellen along as his partner when there was a commotion at the door.

  Callum came racing in, shouting, ‘Auntie Ellen, Auntie Ellen, you’ve got to come now. There’s some boys and Angus and …’

  Neither Kit nor Ellen waited to hear more. They shot out of their seats and were through the swing doors into the foyer before he had even drawn breath.

  ‘Where …?’ said Ellen, pausing as they burst out into the cool night-time air.

  Shouts and a crash directed them to a white van with a crowd of youths around it. Kit set off at a run, but before he had reached it the alarm had been raised and four or five boys disappeared over the fence and into the night. Only two girls were left, laughing and chewing gum. When he pulled back one of the doors, he found Angus and another youth inside.

  Angus had blood coming from his mouth and his shirt was ripped, the other boy was holding one hand to his head. Around them were scattered instruments and sheet music. ‘What’s going on? Are you OK?’

  Ellen appeared at his elbow. ‘Angus. God, are you all right?’

  Angus rubbed his hand across his mouth, smearing the blood. ‘I’m fine. But …’ He gestured at the mess around him. Slowly he picked up what was left of a guitar, its neck broken, strings adrift. As he moved forward Kit felt his foot touch something on the tarmac and stooped to pick it up. It was a keyboard.

  ‘What the hell happened?’ he asked.

  ‘It was those same boys, wasn’t it?’ said Ellen. ‘Jason someone or other and his pals? I saw someone run off. Bloody little cowards.’ She wasn’t calm and collected now. ‘Bastards! How dare they …’

  ‘It was nothing,’ said Angus, staring in horror at the broken instrument.

  Kit touched the older boy on the arm. ‘Are you OK?’

  ‘Aye, I think so.’ The boy rubbed his head again and gave a tentative smile.

  He seemed the more forthcoming, so Kit addressed him. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’

  ‘I’m not really sure, it was all so fast. Some kids came up and were calling us names and then … I think I banged my head. Not sure.’

  Kit swung round to the girls who were still eavesdropping. ‘You can tell us what’s been going on, can’t you?’

  ‘Naw …’ said one, beginning to drift away. ‘We only just got here, like. And, you know …’

  They were gone. Kit wasn’t even sure he would recognise them again. All teenage girls looked this same these days, too much make up and midriff, not enough sense.

  ‘Whose van is this?’ asked Ellen.

  ‘Grant’s,’ said Angus quietly. ‘He’s going to murder me.’

  ‘No he’s not. This time we go to the police, this is assault and wilful damage.’

  ‘It was an accident,’ said Angus.

  ‘We’ll see about that. Come on, let’s go back inside.’

  Kit didn’t think he had ever known Ellen look so furious. Frozen with shock, befuddled with grief, struggling to cope – those were sides he had seen before. But this purposeful stride and white anger were entirely new. He followed on behind, intrigued.

  Grant was dragged out to see the damage and the police were called. Ellen couldn’t believe this had happened. Dunmuir seemed so quiet, so safe. And Angus still refused point blank to give any details.

  ‘It was nothing,’ he said time after time.

  Which of course meant the police just shook their heads and murmured something about boys will be boys. Not much they could do, when both Angus and Simon were intent on belittling the affair. Ellen said she was sure the attackers had been Jason Armstrong and his gang, but Angus claimed it had been too dark to see and Simon said (seemingly honestly) that he didn’t know the boys.

  So, once again, those little bastards were going to get away with it.

  The thing that really upset Angus was the damage to Grant McConnell’s instruments.

  ‘I’ll pay for them,’ he said, his lip so swollen now it hardly moved. ‘Just tell me what it costs and I’ll save up.’

  ‘You’ll do no such bloody thing,’ said Grant. ‘It was an old guitar, and the keyboard is just scratched. And it wasn’t you did the damage. Wait till I lay my hands on those fuckwits …’

  Ellen backed up Angus’s offer to pay for the damage, but Grant refused again.

  ‘Then I’ll get the children home,’ she said. The ceilidh no longer seemed like a fun place to be. People were looking at them, mostly sympathetic, but she knew Angus was mortified by it and she didn’t exactly enjoy it herself. ‘Simon, are you sure you’re OK? Shouldn’t you see a doctor? That was a bad knock you had.’

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll head back home, too.’

  ‘I could give you a lift,’ said Kit, who was still standing nearby. It was he who had looked at Angus’s injuries and decided they were ‘a mess but not serious’.

  ‘No. You go back and join your party,’ said Ellen firmly. She was glad now she had brought her car, and hadn’t yet had more than one drink. ‘I’ll give Simon a lift. Come on, kids, let’s get going.’

  She tried to seem calm, because she could see Lucy was upset by the whole thing, but inside she was seething. The little bastards! How could they do that! Her recent annoyance with Angus was replaced by a fierce protectiveness.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The rest of the weekend passed quietly. Monday was the day the agricultural agent was visiting Craigallan. Ellen didn’t even know if she wanted to do this any more, but it was too late to change the arrangements. As they inspected the house, and then the farm buildings and fields, she was focussed more on the anger still fizzing inside her than on plans for selling.

  ‘Sorry?’ she said, realising that the agent was waiting for a response.

  ‘I said, do you have the deeds for the land? Going through those will be a lot easier than surveying it again from scratch. Two hundred and thirty acres, you say?’

  ‘Or thereabouts.’ Angus had once mentioned that his parents had owned two hundred and thirty-five acres, before they sold off that chunk of land to Kit. She hadn’t dared ask him outright for more details.

  ‘Fine. Well, you look out that paperwork and I’ll do my sums and get back to you with a valuation. The place isn’t in as good a nick as it might be, but it should still fetch a tidy sum. The sooner you get it on the market the better. We’re almost in summer and spring is really the best time to sell.’

  Ellen knew that already. Wasn’t everyone always telling her so?

  After the man had left she dawdled in front of the house, trying to concentrate, see it as others might. Monty pushed around her ankles, hoping this was the beginning of a proper walk, and she bent absently to pat him. Then she walked around the side of the house into the farm yard, and looked about here, too.

  The house was a decent place, although it could do with a lick of white paint to give it that cared-for look so sought after by home-buyers. It was quaint, with its dormer windows and dark slate roof. S
he crossed her fingers mentally as she thought of the roof. The patching job seemed to be holding.

  The farm buildings were of a piece with the house, the same white-painted stone walls and low slate roofs. She could imagine some soft southerner falling in love with the place, turning the buildings into a workshop or holiday homes. Why didn’t the idea please her? Such possibilities would make the place easier to sell. Wanting to keep the farm as a going concern was a pipe dream, only someone as young and unrealistic as Angus would think it could happen.

  Angus thought he had got school down to a fine art. He moved around when a crowd moved, kept his head down in class, did just enough work to get by. The thing was to survive by not being noticed, and then get back to his real life of Craigallan.

  This meant the bruises on his face were a real disadvantage.

  ‘Heard you had a bust up with Jason Armstrong,’ said Martina McCulloch, one of the prettiest girls in his class, who normally acted as though Angus didn’t exist. She examined his face in fascination. ‘So it’s true?’

  Angus mumbled something and turned away, only to find two of the football stars eyeing him from the other side. ‘The police went round to Jason’s house. His dad’s fuming,’ said one helpfully.

  ‘I didn’t tell the police anything.’ Although Angus had a feeling Kit had made his own enquiries, and passed what he knew on to the police.

  ‘You should have done. He’s a pig,’ said Martina unexpectedly.

  ‘How many of them were there?’ asked one of the footballers. ‘I bet he wasn’t on his own. He never does anything on his own.’

  ‘I dunno.’ Angus swung his bag onto his shoulder and made to turn away again, but more of the class had arrived and the questions kept on coming.

  He was surprised they were mostly sympathetic, but he just wished they would leave him alone. The fight and its aftermath, the mess in Grant’s van, the fact that Simon Scott had been dragged into it, they were all best forgotten. He made sure he sat at the back of his classes and kept his head down. He didn’t need questions from the teachers as well.

  He forced himself to brave the queue in the canteen, and although he saw Jason and his gang scowling at him from a distance, they didn’t come near. They were probably still wondering what he had said to the police. Let them worry a bit longer.

  And then Simon Scott came over to him, sauntering away from a group of youths his own age. He bent to study Angus’s injuries.

  ‘You look a mess,’ he said cheerfully.

  Angus tried to smile in an off-hand way, which hurt his lip. ‘I’m OK. How’re you? I’m really sorry about – you know – ’

  Simon shrugged expansively. ‘Not your fault. Bunch of bastards.’ He had survived the fight better than Angus, with only a bruise on his forehead. He touched this now. ‘Still, gives you a kind of kudos, doesn’t it? I hear they’re claiming we hit them first. I hope you throw a good punch, can’t remember I did much damage myself. Hitting my head kind of slowed me down.’

  ‘I didn’t do much,’ said Angus, but was flattered all the same.

  ‘Anyway, what I came over to say was, are you still up for joining the band? I hope so, but if not we’ll need to start looking for someone else.’

  ‘Me? Er, are you sure …?’

  ‘Dead sure. You play great.’

  ‘Well. Thanks.’

  ‘That’s fine then. I’ll set up a practice and let you know.’

  Simon wandered back to his own friends and the girls behind Angus in the queue nudged him to move forwards.

  ‘Ooh, aren’t you the big boy, friendly with the Third Years,’ said one of them, but for once he didn’t mind.

  After the auctioneer’s visit, Ellen took the car down to pick up the younger two from school and drop them at dancing and golf. Then she went to collect Angus. He wouldn’t be pleased, he seemed to prefer getting the bus, but she didn’t care. She wanted to make sure he was all right.

  She parked outside the school gates, in a place Angus would have to pass on his way to the bus stop. She waved him down and he climbed into the passenger seat. He didn’t complain, but he didn’t look in the least bit grateful.

  ‘How was school?’ she said brightly as she pulled away from the kerb, avoiding the hordes of teenagers who seemed to find it impossible to walk on the pavement.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘Did anyone say anything about Friday night?’

  Angus did his thin-shouldered shrug. Sometimes it made her want to shake him. And if he hid behind that fringe one more time she was going to cut it off herself.

  They drove to the golf course which was on the northern edge of the town. They had fifteen minutes to wait so now was as good a time as any to ask a few questions.

  ‘Ang – I mean, Sam – are you happy at the school? You know what I said about changing schools – we can still organise that. If you want?’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  Ellen sighed. She changed tack. ‘Simon Scott seems a nice boy. Did you see anything of him today?’

  ‘Mmm, sort of.’

  ‘How is he?’

  ‘Fine, he said.’

  ‘And is this band thing going ahead.’

  ‘Maybe. He said he’d fix something up.’ Angus tried to sound as though he didn’t care, but Ellen was delighted.

  ‘That’s great. Just let me know when, and I’ll take you into town if need be.’

  ‘It probably won’t happen.’ He looked at her briefly from beneath the pale hair. He had a large bruise down one side of his face as well as a burst lip. He looked a mess. ‘Look, don’t make such a big thing of it, OK? What does it matter anyway, if we’re moving to Edinburgh?’

  ‘Sometimes you sound just like a teenager,’ she said, trying to make a joke of it.

  Angus turned to look out of the side window, and didn’t answer.

  It was only when she spoke to her mother that evening that she realised another reason why he might have been upset by her words.

  ‘I was thinking of coming down next week, if your father is still doing all right.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Ellen, although she wasn’t sure that it was. Now she would have to think about where her mother would sleep, and how to distract her from talking endlessly about Jess or, still worse, asking questions about Ellen.

  ‘I thought I’d come down on Thursday and stay for the weekend, although of course that depends on what you have arranged for Angus’s birthday. Thirteen in just over a week. I can’t believe it. Such a landmark.’

  ‘What?’ said Ellen faintly. She had forgotten entirely about Angus’s birthday. Her mother had mentioned it when they visited Stirling at Easter, but it had seemed so far off she hadn’t given it a moment’s thought. And now it was a week away and she had arranged nothing. Worse, Angus knew she had arranged nothing. No wonder he felt unloved.

  ‘I can’t help thinking how excited Jessica would have been,’ her mother was saying sadly. ‘She did like a good party, do you remember the one she arranged for our ruby wedding anniversary? All of you came here and we had that lovely garden party. She was so good at that kind of thing.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ellen quickly. Her mother had started this sort of reminiscence more and more, and Ellen wasn’t sure she could stand it. ‘We haven’t quite decided what to do for Angus’s birthday, although of course it would be lovely to have you here, whatever happens. I’ll phone you at the weekend, shall I, and we can sort out details? Now, tell me how Dad is.’

  When she finally drew the conversation to a close, Ellen took herself outside with Monty. She plodded through the upper fields. The sun was sinking and already there was dew on the lengthening grass. It was a beautiful evening.

  Unfortunately, it wasn’t only the grass that was growing now the warmer weather and longer days had arrived. She could already make out patches of nettles and thistles, and what looked distinctly like young bracken. She remembered all too well the endless battles Sam used to fight with the bracken – it ha
d been his pet hate and was one of the few things about which he could become quite loquacious. Ellen kicked at one of the young stems and sighed. It was her problem now.

  She stopped suddenly and turned that thought over in her mind. Her problem? When had it become her problem? Wasn’t she just about to put the place on the market and get shot of it? She’d had more than enough of leaking roofs, ailing animals, and broken gates. She was a lecturer, she wasn’t meant to deal with situations like this.

  But she wasn’t meant, in her own plan for life, to be left with three children to look after, either.

  She turned in a slow circle, taking in the rising hills, the darkening sky above, the misty green of the fields sloping down towards the copse, with Craigallan tucked away in the shadow at the bottom. The only sounds were the sheep, the trickle of the myriad small streams, and the panting of Monty as he returned from rabbiting to check on his pack leader. He looked doubtfully up at Ellen, wiry head on one side. Why have you stopped, he seemed to be asking. What’s going on here?

  This is ridiculous, Ellen told herself. There is no way on earth you can cope with running Craigallan. Forget it.

  Later, when she was putting Lucy to bed, she asked her in a whisper what she thought they should do to make Angus’s birthday special, as though she had been planning this secret approach all along. Lucy giggled delightedly and agreed to think of possible treats.

  Kit Ballantyne considered himself a patient man, but even he was growing frustrated with the lack of progress on the house. He was wasting the best months of the year for outdoor work due to on-going delays from Building Control, and he was sure they were doing it on purpose. Some people just seemed to adore the little bit of power bureaucracy gave them.

  He wasn’t in the best of moods when his latest phone call to the council offices had ended in a vague promise of something ‘by the end of the week, probably’. They had pointed out once again that if his proposed house had been of ‘a standard construction’ it wouldn’t have taken them nearly as long to process the paperwork.

  He realised he was going to have to bring in outside contractors if he wanted to make decent progress before the autumn. And, after all, it was just a wooden house. Anyone could throw it up, couldn’t they? As long as you paid them.