Sunshine Through the Rain

by Gilly Stewart

  ‘Now why was he so cagey?’ said Kit, turning back to Ellen.

  ‘Perhaps you haven’t realised, but he’s always like that,’ said Ellen grimly. ‘And I still don’t know why he missed those lessons.’

  ‘No, we don’t, do we?’

  ‘It’s not your problem,’ said Ellen, with more emphasis than he would have liked. And it was a bit much, when she had asked him not so very long ago to try and speak to the boy. What had he done wrong now?

  Ellen rose and took the coffee cups to the sink. Kit decided that perhaps now wasn’t the time to do as he’d intended and invite her to a movie. He had even been going to include the kids in the outing, so he didn’t scare her off with a ‘date’. He’d have to wait for another opportunity.

  Chapter Twenty

  ‘Are you sure you don’t want to come?’ said Ellen, doubtfully, to Lucy and Callum. She was taking Angus, plus electric guitar and amplifier, to Simon Scott’s house. Even Angus had had to admit that he couldn’t manage that amount of equipment on the bus. The acoustic guitar was fine for lessons at Grant’s, which appeared to have re-started, but it was electric or nothing when it came to the band.

  Callum had complained about missing his favourite TV programme and insisting on being left at Craigallan, and Lucy had jumped on the bandwagon and said she wanted to stay too.

  ‘I’m fed up of sitting in the car,’ said Callum. ‘What’s the point? You’ll just be dropping Ang … Sam off and coming straight back. We’ll be fine here.’

  ‘Yes, we’ll be fine,’ echoed Lucy.

  ‘I don’t know …’

  ‘You leave us when you’re walking Monty and stuff,’ said Callum. ‘What’s the difference?’

  ‘I’m going to be late,’ muttered Angus.

  ‘OK, OK,’ said Ellen. This was an important day for Angus, and she didn’t have the time or energy to argue with the younger two just now. She told them to behave, promised not to be long, and set off. She turned onto the tarmac road at such speed she had to swerve to avoid Mrs Jack and her fat little terrier. Since the incident with the cows, she and Mrs Jack had only just got back onto nodding terms. This time all she received was a glare.

  ‘What is it with that woman?’ she said, half under her breath.

  Angus didn’t bother to reply. He was alternately looking at his watch and biting his nails. Today was the band’s first gig – if you could call it a gig. They were performing at the fifteenth birthday party of an acquaintance, in Deer Bridge village hall. It wasn’t exactly the big time, but it was an opportunity. Ellen had been delighted for Angus, happy to see him taking such an interest. It was only now that it occurred to her that he might be feeling nervous.

  ‘You know, I’ve never heard you all play together,’ she said. ‘When do I get to come along and listen?’

  ‘You won’t like it,’ said Angus immediately. ‘It’s not your kind of stuff.’

  Ellen wondered what he thought ‘her kind of stuff’ was. The Beatles? Frank Sinatra? Or were those so old-fashioned he hadn’t even heard of them?

  ‘What kind of music is it?’ she said.

  ‘Kind of, like, Imagine Dragons, you know, and other stuff. Simon sort of writes it.’

  Ellen hadn’t even heard of Imagine Dragons, but she was impressed at the idea of Simon writing songs. Of course, she didn’t know what the quality was, but it showed an application that she hoped Angus might copy. ‘Do the rest of you contribute?’

  ‘Not really. Simon likes to do it himself.’ They turned the corner into the smart little housing estate where Simon lived and Angus let out a sigh of relief. ‘They’re still here.’

  Simon and his two friends were standing in the driveway of the house, with instruments piled around them. As soon as Ellen and Angus climbed out, it was clear something was wrong.

  ‘Try your dad again,’ Simon was saying to one of the other boys. ‘Or what about a taxi? Couldn’t we get a taxi?’

  ‘Who’s going to pay?’ said the other boy. ‘And we’d have to get one to come from Dumfries, right? That’d take forever.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ asked Ellen.

  Simon straightened and tried to adopt a relaxed expression. ‘Slight, er, hiccup. My dad’s car was in for a service and it’s not ready yet. Mum’s away in Edinburgh. So we’re just a bit, er, stuck for transport.’

  ‘Your dad said he might be here in half an hour.’

  ‘Yeah, if the garage get a move on. Even if he makes it, we won’t get to Deer Bridge till nearly seven.’

  ‘The party only starts at seven.’

  Simon shot his friend a pitiful look. ‘What about set-up time? Checking the sound system? We need to be there now.’

  ‘Maybe I can help?’ said Ellen. They seemed like nice boys, and she was infinitely grateful to them for involving Angus. ‘Would all your things fit in my car?’

  They examined the hatchback doubtfully. Ellen was reminded yet again that it would really have been more sensible to keep Sam and Jess’s old estate car. ‘We can try,’ said Simon.

  It was only when they had crammed in every last guitar-lead that Ellen remembered the two children she had left at home unsupervised.

  She hesitated for a moment. But nothing was likely to happen to them, was it? And she couldn’t let Angus down now. He was smiling at the older boys’ jokes, agreeing that as he was the smallest he’d sit on someone’s lap. He seemed almost happy. She would just drop them off and get home as quickly as she could.

  The little car struggled under the extra weight, but they arrived at Deer Bridge in one piece, and without meeting any police who might have objected to the unconventional seating arrangements. ‘Thanks a million,’ said Simon. ‘You can stay for a bit and listen if you want.’

  Angus looked horrified at this offer, then relieved when Ellen had to turn it down. They unloaded the equipment quickly and Ellen wished them well. ‘Are you going to need a lift home?’

  ‘No, definitely not, my Dad’ll be here by then. I’ve texted him.’ Simon gave her a cheery wave and set to carrying the gear into the hall.

  ‘I’ll see you later,’ said Ellen to Angus.

  He nodded, and swallowed. ‘Thanks for helping us.’

  Those words, and the half smile that accompanied them, made the added worry more than worthwhile. And, of course, Callum and Lucy were perfectly all right when she arrived home. They hadn’t even realised she had been away longer than expected.

  As Kit walked with Angus amongst the cattle, he thought for the hundredth time what a shame it was that they had to be sold. He knew it was the sensible thing to do, even Angus had grudgingly come to admit that, but it was sad. Sam had intended these to be the core of a top-class herd of Galloways. He had selected and bred them himself, starting with only two heifers. On Friday, apart from Melanie and her calf Molly, they would all go to auction, and as likely as not be sold in different lots and end up all over the country – or in the abattoir. Absolutely no point in dwelling on that now.

  ‘How’s school?’ he asked cheerily. He knew Ellen was still finding the boy difficult, and was determined to show an interest himself.

  ‘OK. But I’m not going in on Friday.’

  ‘Ah …?’ Friday was definitely a school day. ‘Is your aunt letting you go to the auction?’

  ‘I told her I’d go whether she agreed or not, so she said yes. Anyway, it’s the last day of term, no one will care.’

  Kit could see why Angus wanted to go, and why Ellen had given in, but he wasn’t sure it was a wise decision. The boy would be more upset than ever to see the herd split up.

  All he said was, ‘When’s the lorry arriving?’ The least he could do was be there to help load the animals.

  ‘Half seven.’

  ‘I’ll come down at seven, help you see everything is OK.’

  ‘You don’t need to. I can manage.’

  It was strange to think that a thirteen-year-old boy could manage. Angus was brilliant with animals. A pity he wasn’t
so good at inter-personal skills.

  ‘I know you can manage, but I’ll still pop down. I’ve got quite familiar with the beasts over the last few months. I’d like to.’

  ‘OK … I mean, thanks.’ Angus said gruffly, speaking to his feet, ‘And thanks for helping us out so much. I know you didn’t need to. It’ll be easier for you when the animals are gone.’

  Kit put a hand gently on the boys shoulder. ‘I haven’t minded a bit. I’ve enjoyed it. If things had been different …’

  ‘Ellen says you’ve got your work and the house and your mum to worry about, you don’t need us to take up your time as well.’

  ‘I’ve done it willingly, for you and your mum and dad.’ He didn’t mention Ellen. He gave the boy a playful push. ‘And don’t you try keeping me away, even when most of the animals are gone. I’ll still expect to be able to come down and keep my hand in.’

  Angus looked at him doubtfully. ‘If you want.’

  ‘I do want.’

  The conversation left Kit feeling cheered. Angus was growing up, finally seeing things not only from his own point of view. If only he could start to be a little more understanding towards his aunt.

  In the last week before the schools finished, Ellen had an unexpected visit.

  It was a woman from the social work department.

  It started off pleasantly enough. The woman, large and untidy in a motherly sort of way, asked politely if she could come in, if Ellen would answer a few questions. She commented on the lovely position, the character of the house. But all the time she was looking about, taking things in, so that Ellen began to feel uneasy. Eventually, the conversation moved on.

  ‘It must be difficult, finding yourself suddenly responsible for three young children?’

  ‘It’s not been easy, but I think we’re coping. And Angus isn’t that young, he was thirteen last month.’

  ‘I see. And you think that’s quite a responsible age, do you?’

  ‘Angus is very responsible, sometimes too much so.’ Ellen shifted uneasily. What did the woman want?

  ‘And what about the other two?’

  ‘They’re good enough children, but they don’t worry about things like Angus does.’

  ‘I meant, what are their ages?’

  ‘Ten and, er, seven.’ As she spoke, the woman nodded knowingly. Ellen’s unease increased.

  ‘I see. And do you feel that at that sort of age they’re old enough to be left at home alone?’

  ‘Angus, yes. The younger ones on their own? No, I wouldn’t do that.’

  Even as she said the words Ellen remembered that she had left them alone that afternoon last week. But it had been unavoidable. And Social Work couldn’t possibly know about that, could they?

  ‘So you haven’t ever left the younger two alone?’

  ‘Maybe occasionally, if I’m walking the dog, checking on the animals close by.’

  ‘No other time?’

  ‘Look, what is this about? Do you have the right to come into my house and start asking questions?’ Suddenly, Ellen didn’t feel so keen to co-operate.

  ‘I hope you’ll realise that we always have the children’s best interests at heart.’ The woman, who had introduced herself as Kathy, or was it Kathleen, waited a moment, and then said, ‘It has come to our attention that the children may have been left alone in the house recently for quite a number of hours. Can you recall if that might have been the case?’

  ‘I don’t see …’ Ellen felt blood rush to her face, as realisation struck. ‘Somebody has reported me, haven’t they? That’s what this is about. Someone has reported me to the social services.’ She couldn’t believe this was happening. Anger bubbled up inside her. ‘You’re coming round here to investigate me, because some busybody had the cheek to tell tales? They didn’t come to see me, to see what the problem had been, if there had been a problem. They didn’t look to help, oh no, they just ran straight to Big Brother …’

  ‘So there was a problem last week?’ said Kathy/Kathleen imperturbably.

  ‘I left Cal and Lucy for twenty minutes, twenty minutes, while I went to drop their brother in Dunmuir. And then, well, something came up, and I was out a little longer. But they were perfectly all right.’

  ‘I understand the children may have been alone for a number of hours before you were back.’

  Ellen clenched her fists, holding on to her temper. ‘It was an hour, an hour and a quarter at most. And who on earth … Ah, don’t tell me, I think I can guess.’ For an awful moment she had wondered if it was Kit who had told tales on her. And then she remembered Mrs Jack had seen her leave. She’d probably waited to see her come back, and then exaggerated it. Now it all made sense.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll understand when I say that we don’t divulge the sources of our information.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I can put two and two together.’ Ellen took a deep breath. She would concentrate on hating Mrs Jack later, just now she needed to mollify this woman, and get her out of the house before the children came home. ‘Look, you’re just doing your job, and I understand why you had to visit, but I can assure you this was a one-off. I wouldn’t dream of leaving the children alone. I’m not saying I’m perfect but I do realise that they’re far too young to be left in a remote place like this.’

  ‘Too young to be left anywhere, without adult supervision.’

  ‘Yes, of course, that’s what I mean. I’m just so aware of how remote it is here, that’s why I mentioned it. But as I said, I don’t make a habit of leaving them here. And even though it is remote, we do have a very helpful neighbour just up the track there.’

  ‘I suppose we’re using the term neighbour rather loosely here, aren’t we?’ The woman looked out of the kitchen windows at the hills all around. ‘And where are the children just now?’

  ‘At school, of course. The younger two are at the school in the village. Angus goes to Dunmuir Academy.’ Thank goodness the woman didn’t know she was allowing Angus to take the day off school tomorrow. Best not even to get in to that conversation.

  ‘What time do they finish?’

  Ellen glanced at the clock. Too soon for her liking. She didn’t want this woman cross-questioning her charges, she couldn’t see that that would do them any good at all. ‘Cal and Lucy usually get home about half past three.’

  ‘Oh.’ The woman formed her face in to an expression of great surprise. ‘You don’t go and collect them yourself? Perhaps they get a lift with someone else?’

  ‘Actually, they walk. Isn’t that what we’re supposed to encourage them to do? The school walk not the school run? Sometimes I take the dog and go and meet them, or go in the car if it’s raining. But more often than not they walk. It’s less than a mile. My sister used to let them walk, you know.’

  ‘I see.’ The woman looked thoughtful. ‘I assume you have checked that they have good road sense, have you? It’s rather a narrow lane, no pavements.’

  ‘I’m aware of that.’

  ‘I see.’ The woman folded her plump legs and sat back in the chair. Ellen felt she was inspecting the kitchen now, noting the unwashed coffee cups, the clutter on the table, dog hairs on the floor.

  ‘Kinmuir Primary is a very good little school,’ said Ellen, warming to the topic. ‘Ideal, in fact. Small enough for the teachers to really know all the kids, near enough for most of them to walk there. They’ve been very supportive of the children during these … difficult months.’ Which is more than can be said of some people, she added silently. For the first time she realised how much the children did benefit from that school, what a tragedy it would be if it closed. She vowed to stop moaning about being drafted on to the Parent Council.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said the woman, in the same unemotional voice. ‘If you don’t mind, I’ll just stay until they get home and have a wee chat with them myself.’

  Ellen did mind, but she had no idea what her rights were. The last thing she wanted to do was antagonise the woman. ‘Of course, if you w
ant to wait.’ She had her temper under control now and was able to say almost naturally, ‘Can I offer you a tea or coffee?’

  ‘That would be nice. Tea please. Lots of milk, no sugar.’

  Ellen rose to prepare it and found she felt better just to be moving. She cheered up even more when she remembered it was Thursday and Lucy’s afternoon for swimming lessons. ‘I’m afraid you won’t see much of them,’ she said, smiling sweetly. ‘We have to dash out almost straight away, to take my niece to the swimming pool. Callum comes with us and usually plays in the park nearby. I suppose it is all right to let him go to the park alone, is it?’

  She had meant the question to be ironic but the woman answered seriously. ‘Naturally, you need to consider each situation on its merits. We have started to offer parenting classes, for people who have difficulty knowing what to do and what not to do. They wouldn’t normally be aimed at someone like you, but I suppose that not having much experience of children you aren’t aware of their limitations.’ The woman smiled sympathetically. Ellen told herself that she was probably a very nice woman, and that she was just doing her job. It wasn’t her fault she came across as nosy and self-satisfied. ‘Would that be of interest?’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’

  ‘Good, good. And how does your older nephew get home?’ Nosy didn’t come near to describing it.

  ‘Usually he gets the bus to the village and then walks home from there.’ Ellen didn’t add that he then changed and went straight back outside. No doubt this would be interpreted as neglect as well. ‘However, today I’m picking him up on our way through Dunmuir. He’s coming into Dumfries with us as he needs some new trainers.’ There, that sounded good, didn’t it? It showed that she cared for her charges, bought them new clothes when required. Fortunately Kathy/Kathleen wouldn’t see how bad a state the current trainers had got into before she noticed they needed replacing.

  ‘I see. I’ll probably pop out again in a week or two’s time, see how you are all doing. Perhaps I’ll meet with – Angus, is it? – at that point.’

  ‘Perhaps you will.’ Ellen smiled with a complete lack of sincerity.