Another Home, Another Love

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘I do insist,’ Natalie snapped, ‘I can’t believe you let my father make such a stupid will. Mother made sure she’s got plenty and she’s an old woman. It’s not fair!’ Mr MacNicol thought she was going to stamp her foot as he remembered her doing on several occasions in the past. ‘And what happens to the new bungalow when she dies?’ Natalie demanded.

  ‘I’m afraid you will need to wait and see about that, Mrs Wright-Manton,’ Andrew MacNicol said. ‘Your father arranged an adequate income for retirement but he didn’t expect your mother to be left a widow, so soon. Ella is an attractive woman. She may marry again. I’d advise you and your husband to make provision for your own future rather than waiting for your mother to die.’ The more he saw of Natalie Wright-Manton the more he disliked her; he wondered how a couple like the Turners could have bred such a daughter.

  He watched her flounce out of his office then he telephoned Bengairney to arrange an appointment with Steven Caraford.

  ‘I could come to the farm to see you, Mrs Caraford, if that would be more convenient?’

  ‘It would suit my husband better, if you don’t mind, Mr MacNicol. Steven and the men are getting ahead with the spring sowing while the weather holds, and there is a batch of heifers calving at Martinwold. He likes to see them as often as he can.’

  ‘I understand.’ He explained about Natalie wanting her share in cash. ‘I wanted to consult your husband before I speak to the other executors.’

  Mr MacNicol knew most of the dairy farmers stopped for afternoon tea before they started milking so he arrived at Bengairney just after three.

  ‘I thought we could talk while you take a break,’ he said to Steven, then smiled at Megan, ‘and of course I know by now what an excellent baker your wife is.’

  ‘We could arrange to sell one of the tractors as soon as the spring sowing is finished,’ Steven said. ‘If we do buy Martinwold we would streamline the machinery and the labour between the two farms. If we don’t buy it, everything will be to sell anyway.’

  ‘I presume you have not approached Mr Slater, your bank manager yet, then?’

  ‘I mentioned it soon after Mr Turner died,’ Steven said. ‘He was noncommittal. We need more figures and a plan for a future strategy before we have a formal meeting. We shall do that before my younger son returns to college after Easter. Alexander’s head is bursting with calculations. On paper it all looks feasible but neither of our sons have had much experience. It’s the unexpected problems which can cause catastrophes. We need to budget for all eventualities.’

  ‘Weather? Politics?’

  ‘Amongst other things – accidents, illnesses, diseases. Politics are changing. At one time the hierarchy of the National Farmers’ Union met with the minister of agriculture each year and ironed out a policy according to what the country needed. Everyone understood farming is a long term business. These days the British government can’t make decisions without consulting Europe. I reckon it will get worse.’

  ‘I hadn’t considered that aspect,’ Mr MacNicol mused. ‘Your sons are the new generation. They’ll adapt to changes, just as we had to adjust to the war and all the restrictions after it. Mr Slater’s uncle has a farm in the Borders and he spent a lot of his boyhood holidays there so he understands some of the difficulties. It is possible he may want to come out and look around the two farms to assess what sort of manager you are. I think he will be impressed.’

  ‘I didn’t know he had farming connections,’ Steven said. ‘Speaking of Mrs Wright-Manley though, I see no problem in selling enough stock and machinery to raise the sum the auctioneer calculated after his valuation if the executors agree.’

  ‘I will speak to them and let you know.’

  ‘Fine, I’ll make an appointment with the bank so we can decide the best way forward for everyone. Would Mrs Wright-Manton wait another month?’

  ‘It will do her no harm to wait,’ Mr MacNicol said.

  ‘If we do buy Martinwold the house would have to be sold,’ Steven said. ‘Would you be prepared to handle that?’

  ‘Of course. I don’t see any difficulty in getting a buyer for a house like that. I wouldn’t have minded living there myself but my wife wants a bungalow like Mrs Turner’s.’ He smiled at Megan. ‘I expect you understand that, Mrs Caraford?’

  ‘I do indeed,’ Megan nodded.

  ‘If Mr Slater agrees to lend us the money to buy Martinwold,’ Steven said, ‘I would like to sell enough stock and surplus machinery to pay out both Mrs Wright-Manton and Mrs Turner. I prefer to know where I stand.’

  ‘I can assure you Mrs Turner is more than willing to wait the two years for her share, and longer if you need more time. She is very grateful to you and your wife and she is not short of money, I assure you.’

  ‘Paying both shares would mean a drastic cut in stock numbers, which in turn means less milk to sell and less income until we build up again. That will take three to six years for our young stock to make up the numbers.’

  ‘I leave the planning to you, Mr Caraford, but I am delighted you are coming round to the idea of keeping Martinwold. I can’t tell you how keen Murdo Turner was for you to do so. He was convinced you and your boys would keep up his standards.’

  ‘I can understand he wouldn’t want to sell it himself,’ Steven said, ‘but it is still a big decision and I have a feeling interest rates are going to rise along with inflation. I don’t want to end up paying more in interest than I would pay to rent the land.’

  ‘I understand. We have the first woman leader of a British political party now so we shall have to wait and see what Mrs Thatcher can do if the Tories get in at the next election.’

  ‘She can’t do much worse,’ Steven commented, but he had no crystal ball to warn him of the changes which lay ahead for British farmers. The Milk Marketing Boards guaranteed a monthly payment for milk but they were the envy of European farmers.

  At Langton Tower Rosemary had had a better winter than she expected and the spring season was promising. Paul’s ideas for the garden at Shawlands had earned Mr Ritchie’s approval and both he and Struan were more than willing to leave the plants and planting in Rosie’s hands. Now they were well into spring and the greenhouses were full of young plants in varying stages. John Oliphant enjoyed sitting on a stool pricking out seedlings in the warmth of the greenhouse.

  Douglas Palmer-Farr looked forward to his daughter’s company over coffee every morning. She was young and cheerful and optimistic. Her enthusiasm was irresistible when she shared her ideas with him, even though he had little knowledge of gardening.

  ‘I know you don’t know what I’m talking about half the time, Daddy,’ she told him one morning with a laugh, ‘but I love having you to myself, listening while I sort out my ideas.’

  ‘I look forward to our morning break, Rosie,’ Douglas admitted. ‘I’d never have believed you could make this cottage into such a cheerful happy home for yourself.’

  ‘I’ve grown very attached to having my own wee house,’ Rosie said, ‘with no one to interfere.’ They both knew she meant her mother. Although Catherine meant well she tended to take over and expect her ideas to be carried out. ‘I do appreciate you letting me have the gardens too. I know Mum still doesn’t trust me to make a go of things but we’re doing quite well for a beginning and I have lots more plans.’

  ‘You enjoy growing things, don’t you, Rosemary?’

  ‘Yes. I always loved watching the fields being sown at Bengairney and all the stages when the soil was covered in tender green shoots, then later when the barley swayed in the breeze like a silvery sea, and turned golden for the harvest. Nature is such a wonderful thing, Daddy.’ She sighed. ‘Mum never understood how much I loved everything about the farm, or how I hated going away to that horrid school.’

  ‘I know.’ Douglas shuddered, remembering how close they had come to losing her. ‘I’ve never told you how glad I am you forced us to bring you home, have I, my love?’

  ‘So you didn’t blame me f
or running away, Daddy? I know Mum will never forgive me for throwing away her idea of a wonderful opportunity. She’s always casting up about Sir Henry Braebourne’s family and their private education, but I’ve no regrets.’

  ‘Neither have I, my dear, neither have I. You are more precious to me than all the money or success in the world. Sometimes I think we only got to know each other after you returned home. I enjoyed supervising your studies and I’m proud of you. Whatever you do in life I believe you’ll do it well. Never be afraid to follow your heart, Rosemary. Take life by the scruff of the neck and enjoy it.’ He grinned at her. ‘Are you going to tell me you need fifty thousand pounds for some hare-brained project now?’

  ‘Of course not,’ Rosie chuckled. ‘But I’m glad you have faith in me, Daddy.’ She sighed. ‘I am going to tell you I must get some work done though.’

  ‘All right, I’ll walk down to the greenhouses with you and have a chat with John if he’s around. He’s always been a fount of knowledge, but he doesn’t realize it.’

  Local demand for fresh fruit and vegetables as well as young plants was increasing now that people understood Langton Tower Gardens was an independent and expanding business with sales to the general public.

  ‘We’re lucky we have plenty of land to expand,’ Rosie told Paul. ‘I think we should turn over another two acres of the paddock and grow a crop of potatoes to clean it.’

  ‘I reckon we could sell them easily enough,’ Paul agreed, ‘and the ground would be ready for whatever we need next year.’

  ‘Yes, we could lengthen the rotation and try to avoid disease. I know sprays are becoming all the fashion but I’d rather manage without them if we can.’

  ‘You said we might try a couple of the new varieties of apples too,’ Paul reminded her.

  ‘Mmm, so I did. I think I ought to take on more help for next spring. I can’t expect Papa Oliphant to keep helping out.’

  ‘He enjoys the company and doing what he can,’ Paul said. Rosie smiled at him with affection. He was a thoughtful and caring young man. If she’d had a brother she would have liked him to be like Paul, though without the shadow of the leukaemia which still clouded his horizon. Tania and Struan often persuaded her to accompany them to the local dances if they were going and they were happy to include Paul too.

  ‘I don’t want to tag along and play gooseberry to you and Struan,’ Rosie said, half serious, half laughing.

  ‘There’s no fear of that,’ Tania said, ‘You’re never short of partners. Sometimes I think you bring Paul along as a protector. Sam often asks for a lift. He says it’s because Alex has their car away at college but he could always borrow Dad’s if he wanted. I think he’s avoiding Lidia. He’s always asking if you’re coming with us.’

  ‘I don’t know why he bothers,’ Rosie said, bending down on the pretext of pulling a weed to hide her sudden rush of colour.

  ‘Lidia clings to him like glue,’ Tania admitted. ‘She’s worse than ever. She’s always phoning. Avril and Dean think she means to have him; Struan agrees with them,’ she added.

  ‘I thought he was going on a Young Farmers Association exchange visit to escape?’

  ‘That was before the Martinwold affair came up. Dean says he’s too soft with her or he would tell her where to go, but it bothers Sam when she gets hysterical and threatens to do all sorts of weird things.’

  ‘Sam wants to have his cake and eat it if you ask me,’ Rosie muttered. ‘He likes to be seen dancing with the prettiest girl in the hall.’

  ‘Do you think so?’ Tania said, looking at her young friend. ‘You and Sam used to be such good friends. You would never let Alex or I, or Avril’s brothers say anything wrong about him. He always looked out for you, too, far more than he ever did for me,’ she added with a rueful smile. She frowned. ‘You and Sam haven’t fallen out, have you?’

  ‘No, we’ve grown up, that’s all. People change.’

  ‘Mmm, I suppose some people do. Struan and I haven’t changed.’

  ‘Of course you have,’ Rosie chuckled.

  ‘How? We were always good friends, all through school.’

  ‘But you’re more than just friends now, aren’t you, Tania?’ Rosie smiled and Tania blushed.

  ‘I wouldn’t change Struan for the world. Can you keep a secret, Rosie?’

  ‘You know I can. I never told anyone about your engagement, did I?’

  ‘No, but this is a bit different. I-I suppose I’m telling you because I feel a bit guilty, and yet I feel…I feel so elated.’

  ‘You’ll have to spill the beans now, Tania,’ Rosie chuckled.

  ‘I…we slept together when we went to Edinburgh for the reunion weekend.’

  ‘Gosh!’ Rosie blushed. In many ways she was still very naïve. ‘Did you…? I mean—’

  ‘It was wonderful,’ Tania breathed, ‘especially the second night. The rest of our friends all seemed to be doing the same and it seemed to be, well sort of expected that we would share a room.’

  ‘I see.’ Rosie felt very young and gauche.

  ‘That’s why we decided to get engaged. Struan gets exasperated with his mother refusing to consider moving.’

  ‘At least she attended your engagement party at Bengairney.’

  ‘She did but only after Mr Ritchie said he was coming with or without her.’

  It was a hectic summer for all the Carafords. To Sam and Alex’s great relief their parents had at last agreed to buy Martinwold. They still had more than a year before they needed to find the full amount, but once Steven had reached a decision he was impatient to start planning. Mr Slater, the bank manager, insisted on meeting them all.

  ‘It is a big responsibility and it needs serious consideration,’ he said, looking at Samuel and then at Alexander. ‘You young men must realize your parents are doing this for your sakes. Are you prepared to work hard and share the responsibility, and the personal sacrifices which a project like this involves?’

  ‘We are,’ Sam said.

  ‘We know Mother and Father are doing this for us,’ Alex said.

  ‘And what happens when you both want to get married?’

  ‘We hope Father and Mother will be in charge for a long time yet,’ Samuel said. ‘Alex and I have talked it over. We want to keep on renting Bengairney and run the two farms together as far as we can, with Father in charge. If either of us gets married we would have to live in one of the cottages and draw a wage to live on out of our share of the profits, but neither of us have any plans to marry yet.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Mr Slater’s expression relaxed a little. ‘You seem to have thought things through.’ He looked at Megan. ‘Thank you for the coffee, Mrs Caraford. It is a long time since I tasted homemade scones. They remind me of the holidays I spent with my grandparents. They had a farm in the Borders. It belongs to my uncle now, although he is almost ready to retire.’ He turned back to Steven. ‘I would like to take a walk round both the farms if it is convenient?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ Steven agreed, glad Mr MacNicol had warned him the banker was more than just a man for figures and balance sheets. He was proud of the way he farmed Bengairney and he was doing his best to continue farming Martinwold as Mr Turner had done.

  A fortnight later Mr Slater brought a more senior banker down from Edinburgh to see them but they did not look round the farms. The financial plans were agreed.

  Steven had not looked forward to telling Penny Green and her young daughter he needed to sell their cottage with vacant possession. He waited until late Friday afternoon when she had finished teaching so that she would have all weekend to consider his news.

  ‘I can offer you another cottage to rent,’ he offered. ‘It is the one next to Joe Finkel and his wife, Emily. You know Joe from your visits to the farm, don’t you, Ginny?’

  ‘Yes,’ she nodded. ‘But we love living here, next to the fields. I can see the animals from my bedroom window every morning.’

  ‘I do understand you need to sell, Mr Caraford
,’ Penny Green said. ‘Can I have a little time to consider?’

  ‘I wanted to give you as much notice as possible.’

  It was a surprise when Penny arrived at Bengairney on Sunday afternoon.

  ‘Would it be all right if Archie, that is Mr Pattinson, came in too?’ she asked.

  ‘We-ell, yes,’ Steven said, frowning a little. He disliked trouble but the cottage had to be sold whatever arguments the young architect might put forward. He had noticed Pattinson’s car was often at the cottage, although the improvements had been finished long ago. ‘What about Ginny?’

  ‘She has gone off with your sons to look at some of the animals.’ Penny Green smiled. ‘She loves being in the country. She wants to be a vet.’

  ‘I’m sorry I have to uproot you both,’ Steven said, ‘but we do need to sell your cottage. The two here, on Bengairney, belong to the landlord so I can’t sell the one which is vacant.’

  ‘That’s why Archie has come too. We wondered if you would consider a private sale?’

  ‘Bring him in, but I need vacant possession to get the best price.’ He repeated this to Archie Pattinson once they were seated in the small room which Steven used as an office.

  ‘I can understand you will get a better price if the house has vacant possession, Mr Caraford, but you see, Penny and I have decided to get married. Now this has cropped up we are thinking of bringing things forward if we can do a deal with you. I feel we can offer a fair price but we would like a bit more ground. I thought perhaps the corner of the field which runs by the side of the garden and comes to a point at the road side? I reckon it is about three quarters of an acre. We would like to include that if you’re willing to sell to us. We both enjoy gardening you see. Also we would want to build on an extension.’

  ‘I’d have no problem with that, but as I said—’

  ‘We can offer a good price if you would agree to a private sale. That way Penny wouldn’t have all the upheaval of moving. We shall have a good deposit between us when I’ve sold my own house. Penny sold the house where she lived with her first husband, didn’t you darling?’