It was Kit who pulled back first. ‘Wow,’ he said, but the shake in his voice wasn’t laughter. He leant his cheek against her hair and took a long slow breath.
After a moment Ellen gently disengaged herself and sat back.
‘What is it? What’s wrong?’
‘Nothing’s wrong.’ She could feel colour rush to her cheeks as she met his eyes. Things were quite the opposite of wrong. ‘It’s just – I was surprised. And I’m worried if the kids come down …’
‘They’ll be asleep by now.’
‘Probably, but …’ Ellen couldn’t bear the thought of the children finding them like this. It felt totally right and at the same time completely strange. She didn’t know what to think herself, let alone how they might react.
‘I should probably go,’ he said with a slow smile. He kept her hand in his. ‘I need some sleep, and you need some time to think. Perhaps?’
Ellen didn’t want to think just then. ‘I’ll walk up the track with you,’ she said. ‘Monty needs to go out.’
It was a good plan! The kiss outside Kit’s door was longer, uninhibited by the possibility of interruption by children, but they neither of them suggested taking it further. It was new and exciting and who knew where it would lead.
‘Now I should walk you back to your door,’ said Kit shakily.
‘Don’t be silly. You’re dead on your feet.’
‘I think you’ve just woken me up.’
She stood on tiptoe to kiss him again briefly. ‘I hope not. Sleep well.’
As she strolled back down to Craigallan, she heard the rustle of leaves and the whistled hoot of an owl. She could still feel the warmth of Kit’s arms around her, the glow of the excitement he had kindled. So this was why she had been so happy all day.
Ellen lay awake for a long time. Her body felt tingly with excitement, as though she were on the verge of something momentous. She had known for a while she found Kit Ballantyne attractive, but hadn’t dared to hope the feeling was reciprocated. Still less had she thought anything might come of it. She didn’t do intense relationships, did she?
And yet tonight she thought maybe she could.
She had only to close her eyes to see Kit’s broad face before her. She loved the way his eyes crinkled at the corners, as though he had spent too long looking into the sun. His wasn’t a conventionally attractive face. The features were too broad, the jaw too heavy, but as a whole, with those deep brown eyes and framed with the shaggy, dark blond hair, it made him into someone very special.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Angus loved the school holidays. He always had. He’d never enjoyed school, and the last few months it had been the pits. Now he had seven weeks at home. And Craigallan was still his home. Selling the cows had been a wrench, but Kit was right, he had to be realistic and look on the bright side. He had Melanie and Molly, who were both doing well, and his Suffolk crosses would be staying. He hated to admit it, but that was probably as much as he could cope with for the next few years.
The kids seemed happier now, too. He couldn’t help feeling a little bitter. He wondered how much Lucy would remember of their parents in years to come, and how much Callum really noticed of the changes, as long as he could play football. But if they were content he didn’t need to worry about them, so he tried to swallow his resentment.
‘Ang … Sam, we’ve been waiting for you. Remember we were going to start moving furniture?’
Angus suppressed the irritation at his aunt yet again trying to boss him around. He was thirteen, he didn’t need someone to nag him all the time. ‘If you’re never going to remember to call me Sam, you might as well stick to Angus,’ he said. ‘I’m getting a bit fed up of Angsam, you know.’
‘Angus?’ said his aunt doubtfully.
‘Oh good,’ said Lucy. ‘I was never going to remember.’
‘Are you sure?’ said Ellen.
He didn’t know why she was surprised. ‘Yeah. What’s in a name, anyhow?’ Angus was what his parents called him in his dreams.
‘If we’re not moving the furniture now can I go down to the village?’ said Callum.
‘We are moving the furniture. Come on, upstairs everyone.’
Angus kicked off his Wellington boots and followed them through the house. He had been triumphant when it was agreed that he was to have his parents’ room, but now he wasn’t so sure. He had pretended to be too busy to help with the painting, so Ellen had given the walls a covering of white emulsion herself. Personally, Angus thought that if his parents had been happy with the room the way it was he would have been happy too.
Ellen seemed a little strange this morning. Some of the time she was joking, in high spirits, and then she would go quiet and thoughtful. He hoped she wasn’t having doubts about Craigallan. Maybe she just didn’t like having them all around so much in the holidays? If that was the case, why did she constantly drag him back inside?
It took longer to re-arrange the rooms than Angus would have imagined. The furniture was awkward to lift and the stairs were a nightmare. But by lunchtime, the room that was to be Angus’s was almost complete, and he had to admit it looked pretty good. It was bigger and, with the new paint, brighter than his old room. There was plenty of room for his desk and his guitar and music stand.
‘Do you like it?’ said Ellen. She always had to ask questions.
He shrugged. ‘It’s fine.’ After a moment’s thought he added, ‘Thanks.’
Callum was just beginning his refrain of, ‘I still don’t see why you should get the best bedroom,’ when the phone rang.
‘I’ll get that,’ said their aunt. ‘Will you lot wash your hands and then start getting things out for lunch?’
Angus grinned at his brother. ‘I get the room ’cos I’m the oldest. So hard luck.’
‘It’s not fair …’
Angus smiled smugly. He made his way down to the kitchen, leaving the whine of Callum’s complaints behind him.
Lucy went with him. She began to lay the table, collecting butter and cold meats from the fridge and bread from the breadbin.
‘I can’t find the bread knife,’ she said after opening two or three drawers. ‘Why is it you can never find anything in this place?’
‘Dunno.’ Angus watched her. How was he supposed to know where the bread knife was?
‘Auntie Ellen’s going to bring all her kitchen stuff down from Edinburgh,’ said Lucy happily. ‘That’ll make things better. She’s got lots and lots of really smart things. Did you see her knife block? Mum always wanted one like that.’
Angus frowned. As far as he was concerned, the knives they had were perfectly satisfactory. They might be a bit battered, but they still functioned, didn’t they? Ellen would probably throw them in the bin once her own things arrived. He had noticed this tendency she had to chuck things away that weren’t even slightly old.
He picked up the small knife Lucy had put beside the cheese on the table. Its wooden handle was smooth with age. As he turned it over in his hands, he thought of a use he might have for it. His jacket was hanging on the back of the door and when Lucy wasn’t looking he slipped it into a pocket and got another, newer knife from the drawer.
He might no longer need to go to school every day, but he would still be going into Dunmuir to see Simon, and to have lessons with Grant. And Jason bloody Armstrong lived just round the corner from Grant. He would feel a lot happier if he knew he had that in his pocket.
Kit slept late, which was a blessed relief, and then spent the afternoon at the hospital. He managed to be bored and anxious at the same time, an awful state of mind. His mother was unchanged, occasionally restless, but mostly she lay still and silent in the high, white bed. When he tried to ask questions, the staff brushed him off with reminders that it would be a while before they knew the full effects of the stroke. He sat beside the bed, holding her hand.
There was so much to worry about, yet he couldn’t stop his thoughts turning to Ellen.
He was amazed
at what had happened the night before. The attraction he felt had been growing for some time, but he hadn’t known how she felt in return. And it wasn’t in Kit’s nature to hurry things. It must have been the tiredness and the wine had made him less cautious. Ellen was lovely, beautiful in fact, and kissing her had been – well, pretty mind-blowing. Perhaps she wasn’t as reserved as he had thought!
But now wasn’t the time to get into a new relationship. He should be thinking about his mother, not himself.
He groaned and turned back to the pale, motionless figure beside him. How he wished he had spoken to his mother properly about Westerwood House. He had no idea what state she would be in if when she recovered, but he doubted it would be a good idea for her to go back home.
He found his thoughts straying back to Ellen. Was she wondering why he hadn’t contacted her? Regretting what had happened between them? Expecting him for a meal once again that evening? Or hoping never to see him again?
Eventually Kit decided to call in at Craigallan on his way home. He couldn’t not go and see Ellen, whether it was right or wrong.
He had stayed longer at the hospital this evening. It was only when he reached the house that he thought he should perhaps have made some effort at communication during the day, even if it had just been a text.
Ellen didn’t kiss him on arrival. She seemed reserved again, cautions. ‘The kids have already gone up to bed. They were keen to go up. Angus is in his new room and we’ve done some reorganising in the others. Lucy was definitely over-excited.’
‘That’s good,’ said Kit, although he wasn’t sure that it was. She seemed ill at ease and he didn’t know if it was because of the children, or to do with him.
‘Would you like something to eat?’ she asked politely.
‘No, thanks. I had something in the hospital canteen. I wanted to stay later tonight as the staff said Mum roused a bit in the evening yesterday, but there was no sign of that today.’
‘She’s no better?’
‘No better,’ confirmed Kit grimly. He accepted a beer from the fridge and automatically took a seat at the kitchen table, and then wondered if that was the right thing to do. Wouldn’t it be friendlier if they sat in the sitting room? Before he could rise again Ellen sat down opposite him.
‘It must be hard for you,’ she said warily.
‘I’m not the only one in this boat.’
‘Presumably she’s over the worst now?’
‘I suppose so. Nobody seems prepared to say.’ Kit took a drink and sat back, enjoying the cosy chaos of the room after the sparseness of the hospital ward. ‘Let’s not talk about that now. How are you? Have you got anything planned for this first week of the holidays?’
‘Actually,’ said Ellen, frowning, ‘I’ve got a not-very-welcome visitor coming on Thursday.’
‘Oh?’ Kit wondered who it could be, to make Ellen seem suddenly tense. He had just been thinking how pretty she looked, in old jeans and a pale mauve T-shirt, relaxed and at ease in these surroundings in a way he would never have expected four or five months ago.
Now she grimaced. ‘I didn’t tell you about the social worker, did I?’
‘Social worker?’ The very word made Kit feel depressed. Weren’t these the people he was going to have to deal with over his mother’s future?
‘Yes. One popped in unexpectedly last week.’ Ellen’s colour rose as she described the encounter to him. He could understand why she was annoyed. It was unbelievable what some people would take on themselves. He wished she had told him before.
‘She was questioning your ability to look after the children, after all you’ve done?’
Ellen smiled. ‘I know, ridiculous isn’t it?’ she said with faint irony.
‘But you’ve done so well, given up so much. The kids are really happy now, well as happy as they can be, what on earth are they going to do?’
‘Hopefully nothing. But apparently leaving the two little ones alone is a terrible sin. I’m afraid they’re going to keep an eye on me now. I suppose as long as I don’t put another foot wrong I’ll be OK.’
‘Interfering busybodies. And how on earth did they know you had left them alone?’
‘Ah, now that’s an interesting question.’ Ellen pressed her lips together. ‘I’ve no proof, but my suspicion is that the lovely Mrs Jack reported me.’
‘No!’ Kit put his beer down with a bang. It was a relief to have somewhere to direct his anger. ‘That woman! Why am I not surprised? Someone has got to tell her to keep her nose out of other people’s affairs. I can’t believe she reported you to Social Services.’
‘I’ve no actual proof. It’s probably best if we just ignore her.’ Ellen was coolly sensible, trying to bank down his anger, which annoyed him all the more.
‘I don’t know how you can be so calm.’
‘I’m fine,’ she said emphatically.
A short while later he got up to go, and she smiled politely. ‘You look tired. I hope you get some sleep.’
He hesitated in the doorway, determined not to go without saying something. ‘About last night …’
‘You want to say it was a mistake?’ A faint pink came to Ellen’s face, otherwise he would have thought her as calm and collected as ever. ‘That’s fine …’
He put a hand out immediately, wanting to touch her. ‘No, not a mistake. Not a mistake at all.’
She smiled. ‘I’m pleased.’ Yet still neither of them made a move.
After a moment she said, ‘Let’s just take things slowly, shall we? I’ve got the kids to think of, and you’ve got your mother.’
‘I suppose …’
She kissed his lips, but only briefly. ‘It’s for the best. Believe me.’
He had no idea what that meant.
Ellen watched Kit kicking the ball around with the two boys, all of them laughing, loving the rough and tumble.
She wished she could go out and join them, but that wasn’t her way. And things were a little odd between her and Kit, not awkward exactly, but as though they were both unsure how to take things forward.
She was pleased to be interrupted from these thoughts by the ringing of the phone.
‘Hi, Mum,’ she said as she picked up it. This was the normal time for motherly phone calls. ‘How’s things?’
Unfortunately, it wasn’t her mother.
‘Ah … Could I speak to Ellen Taylor, please? Is that Ellen?’
Ellen groaned silently. ‘Yes. Sorry. I was expecting someone else.’
‘Mark Gillespie here, Senior Lecturer at the College. You will remember, I’m sure, that we met when you came in for a chat a while ago?’
‘Yes, of course.’ Ellen grimaced. What a fool he must think her. ‘How can I help you?’ she said, her tone now ultra-professional.
‘I was wondering how you were situated for work at present?’
‘I don’t have anything definite yet,’ she said cautiously.
‘Perhaps you could help us out then. We’re running a two-week summer school starting next week and one of the lecturers has had to back out at very short notice. It’s not exactly your subject area, but as you’re local and were looking for work, I thought I’d sound you out.’
‘Can you tell me a bit more?’ Ellen felt her spirits rise. The idea of work – the money and the stimulation – was quite exciting!
He described the course, which was intended to support weaker students in the transition from school to college. She hadn’t done much of this kind of thing previously, but was willing to give it a try.
‘So you would be interested? I’m afraid I’ll have to press you for a quick decision, time’s running short.’
‘I’m very interested,’ said Ellen. And then common sense reasserted itself. ‘Oh. But I’ll have to think about it.’ She sighed softly, coming down to earth. ‘I’ll need to see if I can arrange childcare.’
‘Excellent,’ he said. Clearly he had no idea of the difficulties of childcare. ‘Once you’ve sorted that out you can get
back to me. Tomorrow morning at the latest, OK?’
As Ellen put down the phone her thoughts were in turmoil. She wanted to do this more than she would have imagined, but she didn’t see how. The children seemed finally to be accepting their new life, was now a good time to throw another change their way?
Normally she would have invited Kit in for a coffee and discussed the options with him. But he popped in briefly to say he had an appointment with the consultant in charge of his mother and had to dash. Which was fine. Absolutely fine.
She couldn’t ask her mother for help. Her father hadn’t been well this last week and her mother and didn’t need more worries.
Then she thought of Clare. She hadn’t seen a great deal of her neighbour since the holidays began. A wander down the road to pop in for a coffee seemed like a very good idea.
‘I shouldn’t disturb your work,’ said Ellen, when Clare jumped up from the sitting room floor where she was packing pottery into boxes.
‘Rubbish. I deserve a break. Come and sit out the back and watch the girls.’ Ellen had brought Lucy with her, and she and Grace had fallen on each other as though they had been apart for months. Callum had walked on to the village to look for someone to play football with and Angus had, inevitably, stayed at home.
Ellen hoped that was all right. The social worker’s visit might have passed off fairly well, but the thought of it still made Ellen nervous. Angus had surprised her by being pleasant and co-operative, which must have made a good impression. The other children were merely themselves, and the only hiccup was when Lucy asked why the house was so tidy.
‘How’s life?’ asked Clare cheerfully as they carried glasses of homemade lemonade outside.
‘Fine.’ Ellen perched tentatively on a rickety bench and looked around at the wilderness that was Clare’s garden. ‘You’ve cut the grass,’ she said, surprised.
‘Not me,’ said Clare happily. ‘Grant decided it needed doing. I didn’t even know I had a lawnmower, but he unearthed one at the back of the garage. Makes quite a difference, doesn’t it? Rather nice.’
Sunshine Through the Rain Page 21
