Sunshine Through the Rain

by Gilly Stewart

‘There’s things I have to do,’ said Angus, but his tone was no longer belligerent. He still seemed in shock.

  ‘We’ve all got things to do! But at least some of us tell others what we’re doing and where we’re going to be. I think it’s time you started showing a little more consideration.’

  Angus seemed hardly to hear her. He sat back and put his guitar aside. ‘We can really stay here?’

  She sighed, the fight seeping out of her. ‘That’s what I was thinking, but there are a lot of things we still need …’

  He didn’t wait for her to finish. He grinned suddenly. ‘We should go and tell the kids,’ he said, jumping up. ‘We don’t want them to feel left out.’

  Ellen opened her mouth to say more. There was still an awful a lot to discuss. But he had already gone, leaping down the stairs two at a time.

  ‘Cal and Luce where are you?’ he shouted. ‘Come here. I’ve got something to tell you. Cal!’

  Ellen followed reluctantly. The good news was easy to give, but what about the rest?

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘We’re going to stay at Craigallan?’ said Callum, a huge smile on his face. ‘Really?’

  They had congregated, as ever, in the kitchen. Lucy was curled up on the floor with Monty, the boys sitting at the table with their grandmother. Ellen was leaning against the Rayburn. She felt in need of support.

  ‘I’m glad you’re pleased,’ she said.

  ‘When did you decide?’ asked Angus. The next question was unspoken: and why didn’t you tell us straight away?

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Ellen cautiously. ‘I’ve only been sure these last few days. And there’s still a lot we need to talk about.’

  ‘But we are staying here?’ he asked quickly, looking about the room as though it might be about to disappear.

  ‘That depends. If that is what you want – what we all want – then we can carry on living at Craigallan. I have, in any case, put my flat in Edinburgh on the market. There is no way all of us could live there, even if we moved to the city.’

  ‘But we’re not moving, are we?’

  ‘Not unless you want to.’ Ellen looked around at them all. Callum and Angus seemed happy, or as happy as Angus could manage. Lucy was stroking the dog’s tufty ears. So far she had said nothing. ‘Realistically, there is nothing to stop us living in this house. The mortgage is paid off, you like it here, and there are schools nearby which … well, we can talk about schools later.’

  ‘The Academy’s OK,’ said Angus quickly.

  ‘But what we can’t do long term is run Craigallan as a farm. Not while you are all so young.’

  Now she had the full attention of all three children.

  ‘But …’ said Angus.

  His grandmother had been looking from one to the other as the conversation progressed. Now she put a hand on her elder grandson’s shoulder. ‘Angus, darling, Ellen and I have talked about this. There is no way you can manage this place between you.’

  ‘We can. We are doing.’

  ‘We’re not doing it properly,’ said Ellen. ‘We’re just getting by. And we’re relying hugely on Kit to help, which is unrealistic. What will happen when things start to get difficult, when fences need fixing, vets bills paying, silage cut? All of those things? I can’t do those, Angus.’

  ‘But I can. And Cal will help. Or we can get someone in to do them.’

  ‘You boys are too young to take on the responsibility, even if you could do it. You’ve got school. It’s not possible. I’m not saying that we need to sell absolutely all the animals, we could keep a few acres if that’s what you want, and keep, say, a dozen sheep?’

  ‘You’re going to sell the land?’ Angus had shrugged his grandmother’s hand away and was sitting tall and tense again.

  ‘No, we’ll look to rent it out. When you’re older you can decide for yourselves what you want to do with it.’

  ‘You’re going to sell our animals?’

  ‘We’ll have to. I can’t look after them. And nor can you, not properly.’

  ‘Why not? I can! And you could learn, Mum and Dad did …’

  ‘Angus, I’ll need to find a job. I won’t have the time.’

  ‘You don’t want to, that’s what you mean, isn’t it? You don’t want to so we can’t. It’s always what you want.’

  ‘Angus, that isn’t fair,’ said his grandmother.

  Angus looked down at his clenched fists. Ellen had known this would be difficult, that it wouldn’t be enough to stay at Craigallan if they couldn’t farm it too.

  ‘As I said, we’ll be able to keep some of the animals. Angus, we have to be realistic.’

  ‘Don’t call me Angus!’ he said fiercely. ‘I could do it. If you’d let me try. I could …’

  ‘No,’ said Ellen.

  His grandmother patted his hand. ‘Ang … Sam, we’ve all got to make compromises. Ellen is doing a lot, moving down here, giving up her job. You …’

  Angus did what he did best, and got up and left the room.

  ‘Well, I’m glad that went so well,’ said Ellen.

  When Ellen brought Lucy back from her swimming lesson a few days later, she found Kit in the yard talking to her eldest nephew. She sighed. They were probably discussing her wickedness in wanting to divest herself of the animals. Angus was refusing to speak to her about it, but she doubted he would have the same reservations with Kit. When she approached, however, she discovered they were discussing the best way to treat sheep’s feet. She didn’t even know that sheep’s feet needed ‘treating’. See, wasn’t that proof she was making the right decision?

  She said to Kit, ‘I was hoping to have a chat with you. Do you want to come in for a coffee when you’ve finished out here?’

  ‘No problem. Can you give me five minutes?’

  Ellen started peeling potatoes for the evening meal and put some mince on to brown. She was getting so good at this mum thing it scared her. In Edinburgh she had lived off salad or ready-made meals, unless she was entertaining. Now it came as second nature to cook ‘proper’ food, and to take in to consideration all the children’s likes and dislikes. This meant they had mince and tatties or bangers and mash far more often than she would have chosen, but she always made sure they had one or two healthy veg along with it.

  ‘All right if I just wash my hands?’ said Kit when he came in ten minutes later.

  ‘Of course.’ Ellen listened to see if Angus had accompanied him, and felt guilty when she was relieved that he hadn’t. ‘I’ve put the kettle on for coffee, or would you rather have a beer?’

  ‘A beer’d be great. Chasing sheep can be thirsty work. They’re gey stupid animals.’

  ‘I noticed,’ said Ellen, taking two beers from the fridge. She poured the boiling water on to the potatoes, pushed that pan and the mince to the cooler end of the Rayburn, then took a seat opposite Kit at the table. ‘Has Angus said anything to you?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’ He raised his eyebrows, interested. ‘What about?’ He had sluiced his face as well as washing his hands and he looked shiny and clean, if as dishevelled as ever. It was strange how someone who made so little effort could look so attractive. Ellen probably looked as scruffy herself, but she was sure it didn’t suit her. She should make more effort. But what was the point of dressing up and putting on make-up if you were only going to meet animals and children? And Kit, of course, not that he noticed her appearance.

  ‘About Craigallan.’ She paused to take a drink from her bottle. ‘I’ve decided not to sell. No, don’t say anything, let me tell you the whole lot before you start approving.’ So she told him quickly that she was selling her flat in Edinburgh and would be moving to live down here on a permanent basis, but that she had also decided that they couldn’t run the farm any longer and the land and animals would have to go.

  ‘I wanted to tell you for a number of reasons,’ she continued, before he could comment. ‘I wanted you to know that we’ll be selling most of the animals, even if we are sta
ying, so Angus is still dead against it. But you won’t be called on to help us out for much longer, which is good, isn’t it? I wanted to thank you again for all you’ve done for us.’ He seemed about to speak, but she ploughed on. ‘Also, do you have any idea who farms the land adjacent, and whether they might want to rent our fields? And finally, I’ve agreed with Angus that he can keep a small number of animals, and I mean small, only as many as he can reasonably take care of himself, but I’ve no idea what that might be, so I wanted your opinion.’

  As she had been speaking Kit had listened carefully, a slow smile spreading across his broad features, brown eyes crinkling. Even when she mentioned letting out the land, he didn’t throw up his hands in horror. She hadn’t meant to seek his approval, because she hadn’t expected it, but now she said, ‘So you think I’m doing the right thing?’ For the first time in a while, her heart felt lighter.

  ‘I think you’re doing great,’ he said, swinging the chair back on two legs and shaking the sun-bleached hair from his eyes. ‘I’m in no position to advise you on whether you’re doing the right thing, maybe there isn’t even one right thing, but I’m glad you’re staying.’

  She smiled back. Amazingly, she was glad too. All she said was, ‘The kids are relieved. I was mad to think about uprooting them, when they have already had such a shock. But Angus wants to keep the farm going. I’m not sure how much is for himself and how much is for the memory of his parents, but he’s pretty cut up about the thought of selling off the animals.’

  Kit shrugged, as though this wasn’t that important. ‘He’ll come round.’ He grinned broadly. ‘So you’re staying?’

  ‘It looks like it.’

  The one beer turned to two. Ellen found a note pad amongst the clutter that had accumulated on the dresser and began to write down some of Kit’s ideas. He knew two of the neighbouring farmers who might be interested in the land, and suggested which one she should call first.

  Then they moved on to discussing animals, at which point Callum put his head round the door. ‘When’re we going to eat? Can I have a packet of crisps?’

  ‘Heavens.’ Ellen jumped up and stirred the mince. ‘I’ll put the peas and sweetcorn on now, it won’t take five minutes. Will you stay, Kit? Plenty to go round.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say no.’ He seemed happy. Ellen wondered what could have happened to make him so.

  Kit made a point of seeking out Angus the following evening. They usually came across one another in the course of their animal husbandry, and often exchanged a few words but normally they spoke only about practical things. Kit hadn’t had much success when he tried to broach the subject of school, and now he had to do something even more difficult. He wasn’t sure how to start.

  ‘I bet you’re pleased to be staying here?’ he said as they manoeuvred ewes and lambs from the lower to the upper fields. He could hear the falsely cheery note in his voice, and wasn’t surprised at the scowl Angus threw his way.

  ‘Hmm,’ he grunted.

  ‘Craigallan’s a great place,’ said Kit encouragingly.

  ‘Craigallan’s a farm. That’s why Mum and Dad bought it.’

  ‘Ye-es.’ Kit didn’t know what to say. ‘But your mum and dad aren’t here now’ was far too cruel.

  ‘Has she told you what she’s going to do?’ asked Angus abruptly.

  ‘Ellen mentioned you’re thinking about renting out some of the land.’

  ‘She’s thinking about it. And what she wants to do she does.’ Angus kicked a mole hill which was more solid than he expected and made him stumble. He looked very like the child he claimed not to be, lost and vulnerable.

  Kit cleared his throat. Giving the youngster a hug, which was what he most wanted to do, would not solve anything. ‘Your aunt has agreed to stay here. That’s not necessarily doing what she wants. And I know she thinks you should keep some of the animals.’

  ‘It’s not enough,’ said Angus.

  Kit wanted to say, ‘well, it’s all you’re getting.’ How did Ellen manage to stay cheerful in the face of this? He continued in the same bright tone. ‘Do you think Lucy will want to keep the pony? We’re got to be practical about this. And the hens are supposed to be Callum’s, aren’t they? Do you think he’ll want to keep them?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask them?’ said Angus. ‘I’m keeping Melly. I don’t care what anyone says, I’m keeping her and the calf. And my own ewes, the Suffolk crosses. They’re mine, Dad bought them for me, she can’t make me sell them.’

  ‘Well, that doesn’t sound impossible,’ said Kit quickly, before the list could grow any longer. ‘I don’t think that sounds too unreasonable at all. Why don’t we go and talk to Lucy and Cal now and see what we can sort out?’

  ‘I don’t see why you get landed with arranging all this,’ said Angus. ‘Why doesn’t she do it?’ But he followed Kit back down to the farm buildings and stayed to listen while he negotiated with the youngsters. Kit felt he had made some progress. Ellen would be pleased, and he had gone a little further towards making up for the awful wrong he had done Jess and Sam.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Kit parked his muddy estate car outside Clare’s cottage and climbed slowly out. He and Clare were friendly enough, but he’d never previously visited her uninvited. It had never occurred to him to do so. He felt uncomfortable because he was only calling now because he wanted information.

  He tried to think of some plausible excuse for his arrival, but couldn’t.

  Grace answered the door. ‘Oh, it’s you. Mum’s in the workshop.’ She stood and looked at him through tangled hair.

  ‘Do you think I should go through?’

  ‘If you want. I’ll show you.’ The child set off with a skip, leaving Kit to close the door and follow. The cottage was small, chaotic, and colourful, rather like Clare herself.

  ‘I hope I’m not disturbing you,’ he said as he peered in through the open doorway of the workshop. ‘I …’

  Fortunately Clare didn’t seem to need any explanation for his arrival. ‘Great to see you. Any excuse for a hot drink. You will have one?’ She flicked her hair over one shoulder and stood up. Kit looked around the workshop with interest. There was a massive barrel of what was presumably wet clay, wrapped in multiple layers of plastic, a foot-powered turning wheel, and any number of partially completed artefacts, from the grey uncast to the fully painted. Clare had been in the process of removing items from the kiln.

  ‘You make some lovely stuff,’ he said appreciatively. Apart from the candle holder she had given to Ellen, he hadn’t seen much of it before.

  ‘Glad you like it. Perhaps you can commission some amazing and original pieces for your new house when it’s finished? I’ll give you a good price.’ Clare grinned. ‘Come on through to the kitchen. Tea or coffee? Something herbal?’

  Compared to Craigallan, the kitchen here was tiny, but like the rest of the house it was full of colour. One wall was canary yellow, another sky blue, and the tiles behind the sink were a hand-painted rainbow. Clare pulled out a ladder-back chair beside the small table. ‘Have a seat. How’s the building work going?’

  ‘Actually,’ said Kit in a surprised tone, ‘It’s not going too badly. Building Control are being fairly reasonable and the foundations have been dug. If it doesn’t rain tomorrow, I’m having the cement delivered to fill them in.’

  ‘Wow. Amazing. You’re doing really well.’

  ‘Yes. It’s only taken me, what, nine months to get this far.’

  ‘Jess and Sam were in Craigallan for ten years and they didn’t make much progress with that.’

  ‘Mmm,’ said Kit. Even Clare’s bright smile dimmed as she recalled that mention of Jess and Sam was not a happy topic of conversation. ‘And look how I’m getting on here. Not.’ She waved a hand around. ‘No skirting boards, no curtains.’

  ‘You’ve got the place very nice. Those tiles are great.’

  ‘Yes, they are, aren’t they? They were an experiment and I think they worked out really
well. But it’s the finishing off I’m not so good out. Look, I was supposed to seal the edge here between them and the sink but somehow …’ Clare laughed and brought two mugs to the table. It didn’t seem to worry her that water dripped down behind the porcelain sink every time she turned on the tap.

  ‘Have you heard that Ellen has decided to stay with the kids at Craigallan?’ he asked, working around to the topic he really wanted to discuss.

  ‘Yes. Good on her. I think it’s the right thing to do, although I have to say I was surprised.’

  ‘Yes, I think we all were.’ Kit took a sip. ‘The kids are relieved. Even Angus, I think, although you wouldn’t necessarily know it.’

  ‘He’s a strange boy,’ said Clare. ‘Always was. It’s good news for the village school, isn’t it?’

  ‘Is it?’

  ‘It’ll keep the numbers up, which is essential if we’re going to fight closure. Losing Cal and Lucy would have been a blow. And now Ellen’ll have to join the Parent Council and I can rope her in to help with the campaign. We need all the support we can get.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Kit. He wanted to talk about Ellen, but not the school or the children. ‘It must be quite a wrench for her, leaving the city life behind.’

  ‘You should know. Weren’t you enjoying the bright lights of Sydney before you came back here?’

  ‘It wasn’t Sydney, exactly. And I was coming back to something I knew, whereas Ellen …’

  ‘It’s good she’s made up her mind,’ said Clare firmly. ‘It wasn’t doing any of them any good, the not knowing. I wanted her to go and see an astrologer friend of mine, see if that would help her make her decision, but she wasn’t keen.’

  ‘No.’ Kit had to smile. ‘No, I don’t suppose she would be.’

  ‘It’s a perfectly sensible place to seek advice,’ said Clare, not taking offence.

  Kit cleared his throat. ‘I suppose this means things with that Edinburgh boyfriend of Ellen’s aren’t going so well, then.’ He let the comment hang.

  Clare grinned, dark eyes laughing from behind that mass of hair. Kit fidgeted. This was important. ‘I suppose it does,’ she said.