The Legacy of Lochandee

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘If you wanted to come back to work at Glens of Lochandee, I would certainly consider you, Frank, but we only have Bill’s wee cottage to offer, remember.’

  ‘Can I discuss it with Emmie and let you know?’ Frank asked eagerly.

  ‘Yes, you do that, laddie.’

  ‘There’s no need to discuss it, Frank, not as far as I’m concerned,’ Emmie said, her eyes shining. ‘I’d love to come back to Glens of Lochandee. It’d be nearly like old times.’

  ‘Well, then!’ Frank looked at Ross.

  Ross looked at Rachel.

  ‘Were you listening, Rachel? These two young folk canna think we’re so bad. They’re both wanting to come back to work for us.’

  ‘That’s good news then,’ Rachel said. ‘And I’m sure it will be a great relief to your father to have you near, Frank.’

  ‘Aye, there’s that tae.’ Frank frowned. ‘We dinna think Mither will be here much longer. If Emmie had been willing I’d have moved back in with them and helped Dad take care o’ her …’

  ‘I’ll do that, so long as they want us, Frank,’ Emmie said gently. ‘Your folks were aye good to me and my father.’

  When they were in bed later that evening, Rachel turned to Ross.

  ‘I’m pleased Frank and Emmie are coming back to work here. We know both their families and they are reliable. I’ve wondered how Sandy would manage without Dolly but now I’m sure Emmie will take good care of him. Beth says Emmie told her she can’t have any more children of her own. Something to do with the trouble she had giving birth to the Factor’s bairn. She was little more than a bairn herself then, if you remember.’

  ‘I remember Bill Carr and Emmie arriving here very well, and the frail babe in her arms. Not one of them looked fit to survive, even less to work as Bill did. It will be a relief to know we shall soon have Frank back. I had been considering taking on young Peter to work at Nether Rullion. You know, the Polish lad who has been helping with the harvest? He’s been used to farm life. He’ll make a good man with the right guidance. He would need lodgings though. I asked Nick if he wanted a lodger but he said definitely not. He wants his bride to himself.’

  ‘You can’t blame him.’ Rachel smiled in the darkness and cuddled closer.

  ‘No,. I don’t.’ Ross’s arms tightened. ‘We’ve been lucky, Rachel. I still love you as much as ever.’

  ‘I do hope Nick and Bridie will be happy too …’

  ‘Bridie will be fine. She’ll soon forget about cows when she gets children of her own. Are you still worrying about that vase and not being able to pay for the house at Nether Rullion?’

  ‘And you, Ross. I worry most of all about you, especially after Harry dying so suddenly. But it’s not just the money and spoiling all my plans for everyone. I shall always feel let down by Mr Murray. I still can’t believe he turned out to be such a cheat, especially after we made his son so welcome when he came with Conan and Nick during the war.’

  In true Scottish tradition, people came to the house with wedding gifts large and small for Nick and Bridie. They were greeted with a glass of sherry or a cup of tea and shortbread, although most of them would still all return for the traditional show of presents, which was held a few nights before the wedding. Rachel and Beth had cleaned the house from top to bottom in readiness. Most people came with genuine good wishes and admiration, but there were always one or two who were curious to see what a neighbour had given, or to view the house, if they were not in the habit of visiting.

  Rationing or no, Rachel was determined that Lochandee’s reputation for hospitality must be upheld. Sandwiches and savouries were prepared, while apple tarts, shortbread, and fruit cakes were baked.

  ‘I don’t think we have all this fuss in Wales,’ Nick complained when Bridie told him she was busy helping her mother prepare. ‘Like having all the parish it is, before the wedding even begins. Back home, the guests see the presents after the wedding.’

  ‘We-ell, it won’t be long now and it’ll all be over,’ Bridie soothed.

  ‘There’s hard it is to wait for you, bach!’ Nick growled softly and pulled her into his arms, refusing to release her.

  It had been a great relief to Bridie to see the last of Edgar Ritter at the end of the harvest. She had lost weight and Miss Mackintosh insisted she must attend for a final fitting to have her wedding dress taken in at the seams.

  ‘Fiona’s and Lucy’s are finished,’ Bridie told Beth, ‘and I thought they looked wonderful. Lucy is like a wee fairy.’

  ‘Aye, she’s so excited I can hardly get her to sleep at night,’ Beth said wryly.

  She was genuinely pleased for Bridie and Nick, but inwardly she was dreading the wedding and prayed she would not burst into tears. She was determined to hide her own wistful longing and secret apprehensions. She would miss Harry for as long as she lived but they had enjoyed their moments of happiness. All she asked of life now was to be allowed to see her only child grow up to be a woman. Dolly Kidd’s illness had reawakened her fears. According to Emmie, her mother-in-law had been aware of a lump in her breast for years. But how many years? How long had it taken before it had made Dolly so ill? None of them knew. Dolly had never been a woman who worried about her family’s health, or her own. She had never complained.

  Three days before the wedding, Fiona was busy at her work in Jordon Niven’s offices when she glanced idly at a newspaper which one of the clients had left behind. It was a London broadsheet and the pages were folded back where the previous owner had been reading. Fiona moved closer to look at the picture of a vase and read the caption beneath. It was in black and white but, as she read, she drew in her breath and her eyes stretched wide. ‘Whatever are you reading, to make you look so furious?’ Jordon asked with a smile, on his way through the room he had allocated her as an office.

  ‘It’s this vase! They’re going to sell it at Sotheby’s and they are expecting it to fetch a record price. It’s difficult to be sure from a newspaper photograph, but it looks like the same shape as Mrs Maxwell’s vase to me, and Mr Murray said it was unusual.’

  ‘So – what does that mean?’

  ‘Don’t you remember? Mr Murray, who valued my mother’s things, told Mrs Maxwell he believed her vase was quite a collector’s piece. She let him take it away with him, to try and sell it. She hoped to be able to pay for the house to be built at Nether Rullion. She planned to move in there with her husband. But she’s heard absolutely nothing since Mr Murray left, taking her vase with him.’

  ‘Er … yes, I do recall hearing about that. But I never believed anyone could sell a vase and get enough money to build a house.’

  ‘Well, listen to this then!’ Fiona’s grey eyes were bright with anger and Jordon Niven thought what a waste it was for such an attractive young woman to be so bent on a career. Behind that calm cool exterior he was convinced there was a woman capable of great passion. Distracted as he was by his thoughts he paid little attention to the passage Fiona was reading aloud until he heard her demand.

  ‘Surely you could do that? The Maxwells have been good clients for you.’

  ‘What? Do what?’

  ‘Don’t look so startled. I’m only asking you to write to Sotheby’s and query the ownership of the vase in question and its recent history. I don’t want to worry Mrs Maxwell so near the wedding, nor do I want to raise her hopes if I’m wrong, but I’ll always regret it if I don’t at least try and find out.’

  Chapter Eleven

  THE DAY OF BIRDIE’S wedding dawned crisp and clear. She made her way to the byre, for the last milking she would be doing for a whole week, and for a moment she stood gazing across the glen to the distant hills of Galloway beyond the gleam of the Solway Firth. Looking to the south, she saw the peak of Skiddaw outlined clearly against the sky, while on the opposite side of the glen, the woods were changing to the bronze and gold of autumn. There was mist in the hollows like a mystic sea, a sure sign of a good day ahead. Bridie loved autumn, with its vivid colours and the satis
faction which came with the culmination of the year’s labours. She stretched her arms high above her head and breathed in the fresh morning air, feeling exhilarated and happy.

  Beth came peddling up the road on her bicycle.

  ‘It’s going to be a lovely day,’ she called. ‘Happy is the bride that the sun shines on and all that!’ Bridie grinned at her and waited for her to park her bike. Together they carried the heavy milking machine buckets to the byre, with their dangling teat clusters clanking against the sides. Sandy Kidd joined them with the churns.

  ‘Well, lassie, it’s going to be a good day for your wedding, eh?’

  ‘Aye, and she doesna look a bit nervous, does she?’ Beth declared.

  ‘Nothing to be nervous about. Nick’s a fine fellow. They’ll make a grand couple. Frank and Emmie have promised to come over and help me get the milking done tonight so you can all enjoy yourselves at the dancing. And dinna be fretting about the cows while ye’re away.’

  ‘But they’re coming back down to the village for the dancing afterwards, aren’t they, Sandy?’

  ‘Aye, I reckon so.’

  When Rachel entered the church, she felt a knot of emotion gather in her chest. The minister’s wife had decorated the pews and church windows, helped by Mrs MacEwan, the doctor’s wife. The old building looked warm and beautiful with the glow of autumn fruits and flowers and the sun streaming through the leaded windows. The golden-yellow of the bridesmaid’s dresses seemed an ideal choice and both Fiona and Lucy had looked lovely with their posies of yellow rosebuds and carnations. She felt so proud of Conan and Nick, standing together, tall and handsome in their dark suits, both so lucky to be alive after surviving the ordeals of war. Several of their fellow airmen had come to the wedding, and Nick had been delighted to welcome a distant relative and her husband who had travelled all the way from Wales on the train. There were gaps in their own family but she was truly glad Meg and Peter had managed to come, as well as Polly, Peter’s eldest daughter, and the twins, Rory and Max, both now grown into fine young men, exactly a year younger than Conan. She shuddered, remembering how near to death Meg and her baby boys had come, all those years ago back in Ayrshire.

  The tone of the organ changed and the congregation rose to the strains of Wagner’s Bridal March. Rachel heard Beth sniff loudly behind her and she had a struggle to hold back her own tears, as Bridie came slowly down the aisle on Ross’s arm. She had always thought her daughter cheerful and pretty and loveable, but today she looked incredibly beautiful in her white lace gown with its silk taffeta underskirt. Miss Mackintosh had made an excellent job of fitting the neat bodice and long, tapering sleeves, and the oval neckline showed Bridie’s creamy skin to perfection. The lace veil covered her shining curls and added an air of elegant mystery. How tall and slim she seemed with her high-heeled satin shoes. Rachel heard Nick draw in his breath as she reached his side and saw them smile nervously at each other.

  Please God let them be happy all their lives through, she prayed silently.

  The grounds of the little church were full of well-wishers and children waiting excitedly for a glimpse of the bride and groom, followed by the usual scramble for pennies which Conan, as best man, would scatter for them.

  There had been no shortage of volunteers to help at the reception, which was being held in the village hall, and people had been generous with gifts of coupons for extra sugar and flour for the baking. Doctor MacEwan’s wife and a few of her helpers had brought even more decorations for the hall, and the flowers and greenery and balloons gave the little building a truly festive look.

  ‘It’s the proudest man on Earth I am today,’ Nick whispered to Bridie, as they stood together for photos in front of the church. He was rewarded with a radiant smile, which the photographer managed to capture.

  As they made their way to the hall, Ross walked beside Bridie and Nick.

  ‘I’m glad your Aunt Meg managed to come, Bridie, but I think there will be little else done but gossiping until she goes away again,’ he chuckled, nodding to where Rachel and Meg were walking, heads close together as they caught up on the family news.

  ‘Yes, and I see Conan and Fiona are managing to be civil to each other for today,’ Nick grinned. Bridie followed his gaze to her brother and bridesmaid.

  ‘They make a handsome couple when they’re together,’ Bridie agreed. ‘It’s a pity they always seem to argue.’

  ‘A few toasts later on will be making them more friendly with each other, I think,’ Nick suggested wickedly. ‘Conan was a sociable boyo after a whisky or two when we were in the RAF, and there’s a few old friends of ours here to join him.’

  ‘I don’t think Fiona drinks much alcohol,’ Bridie said.

  ‘A toast to our happiness she’ll be drinking, surely?’

  ‘Probably, but I’m not sure. But it doesn’t matter, we shall be happy anyway,’ Bridie smiled and received a warm squeeze of her fingers in agreement.

  It seemed no time at all before the tables were being cleared and folded away for the dancing to begin.

  ‘It wouldna be a Maxwell wedding without a dance,’ the leader of the little band announced, ‘although we shall be missing our star player tonight, with Ross taking to the floor with all the pretty women I see around the hall. Lucky man!’ Everyone cheered. ‘Now make way for the bride and groom.’

  Bridie felt she had never been so happy as she circled the hall, secure in Nick’s arms.

  ‘Duw, but it’s beautiful you look tonight, Mrs Jones. Have I told you so already then?’ Nick whispered in her ear, and chuckled at her startled glance. ‘You were forgetting you’re Bridget Mhairi Jones now then?’

  ‘Yes, I had. Now that I’m your wife then, don’t you think you ought to tell me where we’re spending the next week of our life together?’

  ‘A surprise it is. But we’re not going far for tonight, that’s for sure.’ He watched in delight as Bridie blushed. ‘I’ve been saving up my petrol though. Tomorrow we shall be getting away from everyone for a few days. It’s my old haunts in Wales I would like to have been showing to you, but I couldn’t quite manage that distance. Travelling by train now, I didn’t fancy that for our honeymoon.’ He glanced around the hall. ‘Is it Fiona I should be asking to dance next, or should it be your mother?’

  A couple of hours later, Fiona unfastened the long row of tiny buttons and helped Bridie change into a pale blue dress and matching coat with a frivolous little hat perched on top of her dark curls. They were in the small side room off the main hall and Fiona carefully hung Bridie’s wedding gown on a high hanger.

  ‘I’ll take your dress and Nick’s clothes across to my house after the dancing and you can collect them when you return from your honeymoon. What skill and patience Miss Mackintosh must have. I shall have to ask Beth to help me unfasten the wee buttons down the back of my dress or I shall never be able to get out of it tonight.’ She smiled dreamily and started to hum a tune which the band had been playing earlier.

  ‘Fiona, I’ve never seen you so relaxed and … and … happy.’

  ‘I thought you were going to say merry? I think I am, a little maybe. I’m sure Nick kept topping up my glass whenever I wasn’t looking. I noticed he had an extra bottle beside him and I didn’t see him drinking much himself, but somebody certainly emptied it.’

  ‘Mmm,’ Bridie smiled noncommittally. ‘I think Conan has had his fair share, the way he was chattering when he danced with me.’

  ‘Oh, so that’s what’s making him such charming company tonight.’

  ‘Is he? Charming, I mean?’

  ‘Oh very, quite irresistible, in fact. I don’t know when I’ve enjoyed myself so much, Bridie. I’m so glad you asked me to be your bridesmaid. Did you see Ewan and Lucy dancing together? They looked so sweet. I heard your Aunt Meg saying they looked just like brother and sister.’

  ‘Mum will really enjoy having Aunt Meg to stay for a few days. They don’t see each other much, but they write regularly and Aunt Meg has b
een a good friend since Mum was orphaned when she was 16.’

  ‘Yes, I gather Conan is quite fond of her, and of Polly too. But she’s not really related to your family, is she?’

  ‘No. Polly’s mum, Uncle Peter’s first wife, died when her twin sisters were born. She’s a teacher in Glasgow, but she’s staying at Beth’s tonight and travelling back tomorrow.’

  ‘I see.’ Fiona would have liked to ask more about Polly but her natural reserve reasserted itself and she accompanied Bridie back to the hall, for her to have one last dance with her husband before they made their escape. She’d heard some of Nick’s friends planning to decorate his car with tin cans and balloons and Lucy was desperate to throw confetti. Escape was probably the right description for their departure, Fiona thought with a happy smile. Her smooth hair gleamed more gold than brown in the overhead lights. She caught Conan watching her and moved across to join him. She felt relaxed, liberated from her usual inhibitions. The desire to hold her own in any argument with him had temporarily evaporated. She felt at peace with the world in general.

  Bridie was surprised at the warm hug she received from her father when they went to bid her parents goodbye. Over her head, Ross murmured gruffly, ‘You’ll take good care of my lassie, Nick?’

  ‘I shall try my best.’

  ‘You can’t do more than that, Nick.’ Rachel smiled and kissed his cheek.

  ‘We’re so happy to welcome you as another member of our family at last.’ Nick smiled back at her. He liked Bridie’s mother, always had, ever since he had first visited Glens of Lochandee with Conan on leave from the RAF. He was really sorry she had been so disappointed over the sale of her vase. Not that he minded where he lived, so long as he could repay his bank loan and he and Bridie could make a home together on their own.

  The moon was full and round as only a harvest moon can be. As soon as they had driven a safe distance from the village Nick stopped the car and removed the tin cans and balloons, but it was impossible to get rid of all the confetti. When he climbed back in again he drew Bridie into his arms and kissed her gently.