Sunshine Through the Rain

by Gilly Stewart

He was glad to be distracted from these thoughts by the sight of Ellen coming up the track early Sunday afternoon. She had the dog with her, but she didn’t normally walk him in this direction, so he could only assume she had come to visit.

  His spirits rose, and he greeted her with a smile. ‘Not a bad day, is it?’

  ‘I’ve seen worse,’ she agreed, but she hardly glanced at the view. She looked troubled, the hazel eyes narrowed and frowning, as they used to be so often. He offered her a drink, to break the ice, and she accepted gratefully. They sat on one of his own-design wooden benches (a plank of wood balanced on breeze blocks) and gazed out over the valley.

  ‘How’re things going?’ he asked encouragingly.

  ‘I think I’ve just messed them up,’ said Ellen with a long sigh. ‘Again.’ She took a sip from the mug and looked out over the foundations of his house, which she didn’t even seem to see, to the hills beyond.

  ‘I’m sure you haven’t.’

  ‘I decided it was time we went through Jess and Sam’s room,’ she said, still not looking at him. ‘So that’s what we did this morning. Me and the kids.’

  ‘Oh.’ A small warning voice in Kit’s head said, ‘not good, you don’t want to get in to this’. It had been bad enough going through his late father’s possessions with his mother, and that was someone at the natural end of their life. How much worse was this?

  ‘I didn’t want to do it without them,’ continued Ellen flatly. ‘My mother offered to help, but I thought the kids had the most right to say what happened to everything. And I thought it might be a way for them to say goodbye …’

  ‘Yes, I suppose I can see that.’

  ‘But I think it’s just made it all worse. Lucy insisted on sleeping in her parents’ bed last night, Angus wouldn’t come out of his own room. And when we actually started going through things …’ Ellen shuddered. ‘It was too awful. The smell of the clothes, the little bits of Jess’s jewellery, Sam’s work overalls. God, it brought it all back. Lucy was wailing and Callum in tears. It was Angus who insisted we go on now we’d started. So we did. We divided everything up into what could go to charity shops, what could be sold, what we wanted to keep.’

  ‘It sounds like you achieved something then.’

  ‘Yes. And now it’s not even their room any more.’ Ellen sniffed and swallowed. ‘It’s just a room with piles of stuff in it. It’s as though we’re wiping them out.’

  ‘You have to move on.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ She rubbed fingers across her eyes. ‘Oh god, I don’t know if I can do this.’

  Kit took her mug from her and put it with his own on the ground. Then he did what he would have done for anyone in distress; put his arms about her and drew her in. He had wanted to do this many times, but Ellen had a way of keeping you at a distance. Now she wept against his shoulder, and he held her close, rocking her like a child.

  ‘It’s not easy, what you’re doing, but you are doing it,’ he said. ‘Everyone says how marvellous you’re being.’

  ‘Except Angus,’ she said, her voice muffled by his T-shirt. ‘Angus hates me.’

  ‘He doesn’t. He’s just … missing his mum and dad.’

  ‘So am I. Oh God, so am I.’ Ellen began to cry in earnest.

  Kit stroked her hair, murmuring nothing much as encouragement. What could he do, what could anyone do? Ellen felt so slight in his arms it was heart-breaking. He wanted to surround her with his care.

  He wiped the tears gently from her cheeks, feeling the smoothness of her skin and bent to touch his lips to her hair. Maybe she felt the change in the caress because she sat back and pulled out a tissue. She gave him a watery smile. ‘Sorry.’

  ‘No bother. Any time.’ Even tear ravaged and tired, she was very beautiful. ‘They say a good cry can make you feel better.’

  ‘Maybe.’ She blew her nose loudly. ‘God, it was so awful … But I’m not going to think about it any more. What’s done is done. I’m sorry to be so feeble, crying all over you like that.’

  ‘Not a problem,’ said Kit. It was a struggle not to pull her back towards him, not to kiss away the tears this time and distract her with other thoughts entirely. That clearly wasn’t what she wanted. He suppressed a sigh and passed back her coffee, now tepid. ‘Where are the kids just now?’

  ‘Angus got a bus in to town to see that friend of his, Simon. I offered him a lift but he wouldn’t take it. Lucy and Callum are watching television. I know it’s a waste on a nice dry day like this but I didn’t have the heart to make them come out with me. I can hardly blame them for not wanting to. I think we all needed time on our own.’

  ‘Television never did me any harm,’ said Kit.

  She smiled at him, almost properly this time. ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  After a while she shook her head, and said in a determinedly cheerful tone, ‘Now, tell me some more about your house. I see you’ve got the foundations laid. What happens next?’

  This was a nice, unemotional subject and one on which Kit was usually happy to hold forth for hours. With an effort, he managed to force his thoughts away from Ellen. ‘Ever heard of the autonomous house?’ he asked. He had been rereading the book last night.

  ‘Er, no.’

  ‘I suppose not everyone has,’ he said understandingly. ‘It’s the idea that a house, or any building really, should have no impact on the environment. You know, things like zero CO2 emissions, have its own water supply and sewage? It has to be carefully situated and constructed of certain materials. I’m compromising on some things, unfortunately, but that’s the general idea I’m aiming for.’

  ‘I see,’ she said doubtfully. She looked more closely at the foundations, trying to make sense of them. ‘So is this going to be the front?

  ‘That’s right. South facing, which is important in a climate like ours. And I’ll have a big conservatory along the full length of the house, for passive solar gain. Also it’ll be a great room, with views down the valley. And there are porches around any outside door, see, to reduce draughts, and I’m really going overboard on the insulation …’ He chattered on and saw to his relief that it was working, Ellen was really listening now, distracted from her own worries.

  ‘So what do you think?’ he said when he had spoken for perhaps a little too long.

  ‘It sounds … fascinating. I think it’s going to be a far pleasanter building to live in than Craigallan. Now why wasn’t that built south-facing? And with bigger windows? And even minimal insulation wouldn’t go amiss.’ She smiled wryly.

  ‘That’s the way they used to build. But Craigallan’s essentially a good house. You don’t mind it really, do you?’

  ‘The kids want to stay there and I’ve agreed, so even if I did it’s too bad now. I thought I’d start making some small changes, you know, maybe insulate the loft and repaint some of the rooms, but after this morning …’

  ‘Leave it for a few days. Then you’ll feel better. And if you want any help, give me a shout. I’m the person you want to speak to when it comes to insulation. It’s a good idea to use the cellulose fibre stuff, it’s low energy in production and just as efficient … Oops, there I go again. You’ll be sorry you ever asked me.’

  ‘Not at all.’ She put her mug to one side and rose. ‘Thanks for the coffee. And everything. I’d better get back.’

  ‘Don’t forget what I said about helping out.’

  ‘Kit,’ she said, and her tone was suddenly grim. ‘You do far too much for us already. I’m trying to rely on other people less, not more.’

  Which was a shame, as far as Kit was concerned, but he didn’t know how to put that into words. It was only after she had gone that he remembered he still hadn’t mentioned about Angus missing his guitar lessons. Maybe that would be a good excuse to pop down sometime soon.

  Ellen was embarrassed by the interlude with Kit. What on earth had she been thinking, going to him when she was in such a fragile state? She hadn’t needed to rush to anyone in the past and she certai
nly couldn’t start now. It had felt ridiculously good to be in his arms, but that didn’t mean he had liked it. He was just the sort of man who had to offer comfort. She cringed. She hoped she had handled it successfully, drawing back before he realised how much she wanted to stay there. Wanted to put her arms around him, too, and …

  Anyway, no point in thinking about that. He was four years younger than her, for goodness sake, and who would be interested in a woman sobbing with grief, with three children in tow? What an idiot she was.

  She walked Monty around the top of the copse and back to the house where she rounded up a willing Lucy and reluctant Callum to help her in the kitchen.

  ‘Come on, what shall we make?’ she said brightly. You just had to get on with things, didn’t you? ‘Cakes? Biscuits? Pancakes? What would you like?’

  ‘Dunno,’ said Callum, in a worryingly Angus-like voice.

  ‘Cupcakes,’ said Lucy. ‘Have you got those sprinkly things to put on them?’

  ‘Not sure,’ said Ellen. But it was good to see how Lucy could bounce back from her tears, she wasn’t going to disappoint her. ‘I’ll check the pantry, shall I? I know your mum used to have lots of those food colours, we can make our own icing. And Cal, why don’t you look through this book and see if there’s anything you fancy?’

  ‘Make that milkshake you used to do,’ suggested Lucy. ‘Go on, it was yummy.’

  ‘If we’ve got enough ice cream,’ said Callum, but his face brightened. Ellen listened with interest. So they had used to cook with their mum? Callum was a milkshake specialist? Why did she not know this?

  The rest of the afternoon passed in messy but mostly cheerful chaos. Ellen tried not to question the children directly but to listen to what they said, to learn more from them obliquely. This unforced chat was much more fun than the struggle around the table at meal times. It was good to do things together.

  It was gone six o’clock when she realised that Angus still hadn’t come home, and wondered if she should start to worry.

  ‘Have you seen your elder brother?’ she asked Lucy, who was decorating buns with her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth. Callum had retired to watch television with an enormous glass of banana milkshake. ‘Is he back?’

  ‘He might be outside,’ said Lucy, not looking up. She was all too used to Angus being out with his animals.

  ‘I thought he would have come in to change first,’ said Ellen, doubtfully. ‘I’ll go and have a look.’

  But there was no sign of Angus. The animals were grazing peacefully in their various fields. The horses hadn’t yet been brought in for the night, which was apparently necessary when there was so much grass around. Angus might be hiding in one of the many dips and valleys, but she thought on the whole he probably wasn’t. She tried his mobile but it was switched off. Now she had to decide whether to phone Simon’s house and check up on him. Would that be unforgivably intrusive? After inviting Simon to the disastrous birthday party, she was trying not to meddle.

  She decided to give him until seven, and went back indoors to begin preparations for the evening meal. An afternoon of baking had exhausted her, but the fact remained the children still needed to be fed. The process of child-rearing was endless.

  Ellen had just gone to find the phone book to look up the Scott’s number when Lucy called, ‘Angus’s here now,’ She pushed the directory quickly back on the shelf and returned to the kitchen.

  ‘We thought you’d got lost,’ she said.

  ‘I missed the bus.’ Angus was looking at his feet so she had no way of telling if this was true.

  ‘You missed …? But why didn’t you phone me? How did you get home?’

  ‘I walked. ’S all right.’

  ‘What can I have to eat now?’ said Callum, appearing from the sitting room, without the empty glass he had been specifically reminded to bring through. ‘Did you say you walked from Dunmuir? Coo, you must be mad.’

  ‘’S not that far.’

  ‘I would have come and got you,’ said Ellen. ‘Didn’t you have your mobile with you? Why didn’t you phone?’

  ‘It’s, er, run out of credit.’

  ‘Well, why didn’t you tell me before?’ Ellen tried to remember when she had last given him money to put on his phone. It didn’t seem like long ago.

  ‘It was fine. I got a lift a bit of the way with John Thompson’s mum. Anyway, you’re always saying exercise is good for us.’

  ‘Mmm.’ Ellen resisted the urge to shake him, to make him look at her. She felt that something was wrong, but how to find out? ‘Did you have a good time with Simon?’

  ‘It was OK. I’m going to get the horses in now.’

  Ellen watched him withdraw with that familiar sinking feeling. Was it her fault he was in this mood, less communicative even than usual? Had it been a mistake forcing them to face their parents’ room? Would she ever know?

  She sighed and said, ‘Callum, feed Monty please. You should have done it ages ago. And Lucy, if you wash something up it’s supposed to be clean afterwards, not covered in pink icing. Do that bowl again.’

  Sensing the change in atmosphere, both children obeyed without complaint.

  Ellen wasn’t like Sal.

  This thought came to Kit in the middle of the night, as he tossed and turned on his thin mattress. Sal was happy go lucky, easy come easy go. Ellen was – the opposite. Therefore his only hope of progress was to take things slowly. He couldn’t forget the slight shape of her in his arms, the powerful attraction that surely couldn’t be just on his side.

  She no longer had a boyfriend, but she did have an awful lot of worries. Well, he could help her with those. All he had to do was convince her she needed him in her life.

  With this thought in mind he set off for Craigallan after work the following day, taking a quick detour through the fields and actually being disappointed that there were no problems evident for him to deal with.

  He found Ellen in the back kitchen, emptying the washing machine. Her smile of welcome was guarded. He wondered if she was remembering the embrace. He said brightly, ‘Just thought I’d pop in and say hello. Children all right after – after yesterday?’

  ‘Yes, they seem fine, thank goodness. They went to school as usual.’

  ‘That’s good.’ He paused, suddenly uncomfortable. Things had always seemed so easy before, when he had been unaware of what he wanted.

  Ellen shook out the last T-shirt and hung it on the drying wrack. ‘Time for a coffee? Or were you wanting to use the shower?’

  ‘A coffee would be good.’

  By the time they were settled at the kitchen table, Kit was feeling at ease again. They chatted amicably, and Kit’s only concern was that he shouldn’t appear to be out-staying his welcome. Just as he was about to leave, he remembered the one thing he needed to mention. ‘How’s Angus’s guitar playing going?’ he asked carefully. He didn’t like the idea of being the cause of further worries.

  ‘Fine, I think. If anything, he’s even keener now that he used to be, with this chance of being in Simon Scott’s band.’

  ‘That’s good. It’s just that I happened to bump into his guitar teacher the other day, and he mentioned Angus had missed a couple of lessons. I made me wonder …’

  Ellen stared. ‘Angus had done what?’

  ‘He said he’d missed a couple of lessons, and he was surprised …’

  Ellen pushed her mug away and tapped her fingers on the table, tense and concerned again in exactly the way he didn’t want her to be. ‘How can he have missed lessons? He’s being going after school. I gave him the money to pay and he said it fitted in with band practice and he’d get the bus home, I didn’t need to pick him up.’

  ‘Well,’ said Kit, cautiously. ‘Apparently he hasn’t been going to Grant’s. I wonder what he has been doing.’

  ‘He’s lied to me. I’ve had my suspicions that he’s not always exactly honest but this … He took the money, he never said. And he likes Grant McConnell, I know he does.’


  ‘It does seem strange.’

  ‘I don’t like it.’

  They both heard the back door swing open at the same time. Kit called, ‘Angus? Sam? Is that you?’

  Angus muttered something in response. Ellen rose and went to the intervening door. ‘Could you come through, please?’ she said. ‘There’s something I’d like to ask you.’

  Angus entered the room slowly, looking nervously from one adult to the other.

  ‘We were just wondering,’ said Kit, trying to keep his tone friendly. ‘If …’

  Ellen interrupted. ‘Angus, have you been going to your guitar lessons?’

  The hunted look on the boy’s face was definite now. He backed towards the door. ‘I’ve been doing my practice.’

  ‘That wasn’t what I asked. I hear that you haven’t been going to Grant’s for your lessons, is it true?’

  ‘I might have missed one or two.’

  ‘But Angus, I thought you loved those lessons. And why didn’t you say anything? What on earth must Grant think of me? Don’t you realise he’ll have been hanging around, waiting for you.’

  Angus glanced up in surprise. ‘I – didn’t think.’

  ‘And you took the money from me.’ Ellen didn’t raise her voice, but her tone was dangerous. ‘That was dishonest.’

  ‘I didn’t spend it,’ Angus flashed back at her. ‘You can have it back if you want.’

  ‘What we really want to know,’ said Kit, ‘is why you’ve been missing the lessons. Is there something wrong?’

  ‘I told you, I’ve been busy.’

  ‘Have you fallen out with Grant?’ said Ellen.

  ‘No! Grant’s cool.’

  ‘Then why? Is it something to do with those boys?’

  Angus didn’t meet her eyes. ‘Look, I’ll start going again, OK? I think I need to, some of the stuff Simon’s writing is really hard.’

  ‘That’s good,’ said Kit encouragingly.

  ‘I’ll have to phone Grant and apologise,’ said Ellen, still looking very put out. ‘And you had better apologise too.’

  ‘OK,’ said Angus, so quietly you could hardly hear him. ‘Is that all?’ He hurried back out before they could reply.