As soon as the Nether Rullion harvest was gathered in, everyone moved to Glens of Lochandee and it all began again. Peter the Pole came with Bridie’s father and mother. They all called him that because none of them could pronounce his surname, and it always made her smile.
‘He’s thinking of changing it by deed poll or whatever they call it.’ Rachel told her.
‘Mrs Forster suggested he should adopt her name. It’s amazing how much more lively and energetic she is since he went to live with her. I believe she is mothering him and the two of them seem to get on very well. Peter is quite clever with his hands and he has done all sorts of small repairs for her, and he painted the windows and doors outside. He has made himself some bookshelves for his room and she is helping him to speak English more.’
‘He must be quite settled then.’
‘Yes, I think he is. Your father told him he was thinking of getting some cows to milk and he said he milked the cows at home, but he obviously meant by hand. What he can’t say he demonstrates and I think he meant his mother churned milk into butter.’
‘And is Dad really thinking of getting some cows then?’ Bridie asked eagerly, though recently the other things on her mind had pushed her own ambitions into second place. Rachel smiled as she helped Bridie peel vegetables for a large pot of soup to feed the men.
‘Yes, I think he’s seriously considering it. He has been reading all about milking parlours though instead of byres. You know, that’s where the cows all gather in a yard ready to file into a small building where the milking machines are installed ready for the cows to be milked in small groups.’
‘I see …’ Bridie was astonished. She hadn’t dared hope her father would take her suggestion seriously, but she couldn’t believe he would do so with such radical ideas. ‘I don’t know anyone who has a milking parlour in this area, do you?’
‘There is one. Ross went to see it, but it’s not the kind he fancies for Nether Rullion.’
‘Trust Dad,’ Bridie smiled. ‘He never does things by halves, does he? He’ll be wanting one of those big milk tanks instead of putting it into churns next.’
‘Oh yes, he’s thinking about that too. More labour-saving, he says, but there isn’t a scheme in this area yet. Anyway he would need to build a shed for the cows to sleep in first when we haven’t a byre. He calls it a “cubicle house”. Apparently, the cows have a single stall each, and they are never tied by the neck as they are in the byre. He thinks it may be better for them to be able to wander about as they please and lie down more easily. If nothing else, Bridie, your ideas have given him a lot to think about and, to be honest, he has seemed more settled. He has really missed the cows since we went to Nether Rullion, and so have I. We had such a routine of milking twice a day for so many years, I think I’d be pleased to get back to it now that we’ve settled in. I’m not so sure about milking in one of these parlours, though, because I’ve never seen one. I expect your father will tell you all about it. But, Bridie, how would you manage to make a living, if he took the Friesian cows away from Glens of Lochandee?’
‘I worked it all out. With a bit of luck, we could build up the Ayrshire herd to the original numbers in about four years, or five if we keep all the heifer calves. We would have less income during that time, of course. The only problem is I don’t think I’d be able to afford both Emmie and Beth to help in the byre.’ She bit her lip thoughtfully.
‘Well, we can cross that bridge if your father reaches a decision. After all, we would probably need Beth every day at Nether Rullion if we had a dairy again.’
‘Yes, of course! I hadn’t thought of that. I’d hate to hurt Beth, or have her think we didn’t want her, after all these years.’
The last sheaf of corn was built into the stack and everyone breathed a satisfied sigh. It was still only mid-afternoon and Bridie was in the house alone, when Ross came to find her. She was not as surprised as she might have been, had she not already spoken with her mother, but she still didn’t know whether he would ever consider allowing her to farm Lochandee on her own.
‘I’ve been thinking things over, Bridie,’ he began, and she didn’t care for his thoughtful frown. Her heart sank. ‘I can’t see myself doing things your way, lassie. It doesn’t seem right to burden you with a bank overdraft, but I can’t afford to hand over my share of Glens of Lochandee either.’
‘Oh no, Dad! That’s not what I want, either. I wouldn’t accept it like that.’
‘No, but some day my share of this place will be divided between you and Conan. Ewan hasn’t been as lucky as you two,’ he chuckled. ‘He hasn’t met a generous benefactor. I’m still surprised at Alice Beattie leaving her share to you when you were still just a wee bit of a lassie.’
‘But she knew how much I loved it, and,’ Bridie gave her father a mischievous smile, ‘I expect she guessed your opinion of women in business – especially farmers.’
‘You may be right,’ Ross nodded dryly. ‘She often seemed to know what was in my mind better than I knew myself. Anyway, I shall leave Nether Rullion to Ewan and I don’t want to leave him a pile of debts with it. According to Mr Niven, and your friend Fiona, he’ll have a big enough debt to pay to the government in death duties, just for inheriting the place your mother and I have worked so hard for. Whereas you and Conan should have nothing to pay, if I could get my affairs in order now.’
‘What do you mean? Have you been to consult Mr Niven about it then?’ Bridie frowned.
‘Of course. You should know by now I don’t rush into things like that. Anyway, I would like to put a dairy herd on at Nether Rullion. You were right about that, and it will make the farm more profitable, especially now it seems the Milk Marketing Boards are here to stay and we can all be surer of getting paid for our milk. It will take me a wee while to get the sheds ready though, but as soon as I can milk them I’d like to take the Friesians from Glens of Lochandee. As you said, there’d be less money for you to pay out then, but you’d have less income,’ he warned sternly.
‘I’ve considered that.’
‘I don’t like the idea of you having a bank loan, lassie, and I’d feel a lot happier if you discussed it with Nick and see whether he agrees with your plans.’
‘I would discuss it with him, but he’s not happy in his own business. If he thought I had a bank loan, he might feel he had to stay in partnership with Conan, just to support me. Don’t you see?’
‘I suppose so. Your mum is convinced Nick and Conan will split up and she hopes they do it before they fall out and force a sale of the business. They were good friends. Though friendship isn’t always the best basis for a business partnership.’
‘I think they both see that now but neither of them can afford to buy the share off the other and still stay in business, even on a smaller scale.’
‘So you’ll not consult Nick before you arrange the bank loan then?’
‘You mean …? You really will let me buy your share, Dad?’ Bridie’s eyes were shining.
‘Aye, I think so ….’ Ross was frowning. ‘Mr Niven thought it was not such a bad idea. As for your friend …’ he smiled and his blue eyes crinkled. ‘… she said I didn’t appreciate what a capable and intelligent daughter I had. She also reminded me that you left school to work at home when we most needed you, and Conan didn’t want to farm. She obviously believes I owe you something, lassie, and she’s right. I’ll take the cows as part of my share and that leaves you to take out a long-term loan to buy my half of the land.’
‘But there’s the two tractors and the horses, as well as the poultry and pigs and all the equipment.’
‘We already have enough pigs and poultry at Nether Rullion. Anyway you’ve built them up yourself here. We don’t need the horses either. As far as the tractors and the men are concerned, I hope we can still join up and help each other at times like this, hay and harvest and so on?’
‘Of course we can!’
‘In that case, you may as well keep the two tractors that are h
ere. They’re older than the ones at Nether Rullion but you’ve got a good mechanic to keep them going for you,’ Ross chuckled. ‘Nick really understands machines, like I understand cows. You’ve got a good husband, lassie.’
‘I know,’ Bridie smiled a small secret smile. If her suspicions proved correct, her father would think even more of his son-in-law soon.
‘So you can pay a visit to Mr Craig at the bank and tell him you need a loan for my half of the Lochandee land, but nothing more. That will be more of a burden than I approve of as it is. I’ll make an appointment for us to see Mr Niven and he’ll get the deeds changed into your name.’
‘Oh, Dad …’ Bridie didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and she hugged him tightly instead.
‘There, there, lassie,’ Ross said gruffly, stroking her soft, shining curls as though she was still his little girl. In his own heart he knew she always would be and he hated the thought of her being burdened with a huge debt, yet Rachel felt Bridie wanted – even needed – the challenge. ‘I think it might work out for the best all round if your mother is right, and she usually is. Don’t tell her I said so, mind!’
‘I won’t.’ Bridie chuckled. Her mother and father still liked to tease each other. ‘I’ll go and see Mr Craig tomorrow, if I can get an appointment. Maybe I’ll call in to see Fiona on the way home. I’m worried about Beth and I thought Fiona might know what’s bothering her.’
Chapter Twenty-three
BRIDIE WAS JUBILANT WHEN she came out of the bank. Mr Craig had promised to get an agreement drawn up without delay. As soon as she had signed it he would transfer the agreed sum to her father’s account. She frowned, wondering if she had been right to agree that the bank should keep the deeds for the land as security, after they had been changed into her name. Perhaps there was no choice. She might ask Fiona about that, and she would consult Mr Niven if she wasn’t sure.
Her face sobered as she drove into Lochandee village and turned down towards Fiona’s house. It really was one of the nicest houses in the village and Fiona kept it beautifully. As Bridie drew up she found her working in the garden, tying up some giant dahlias.
‘I never knew you liked gardening,’ Bridie greeted her. ‘These are magnificent, and such rich colours.’
‘I’ll pick you a bunch if you like, Bridie. It’s such a shame they’ll die overnight if we get a sharp frost. Mrs Simms, the minister’s wife, asked if I would cut some tonight, just to make sure she has them for decorating the church for the harvest thanksgiving.’
‘Goodness me, yes, I’d forgotten it’s on Sunday. So, when did you take up gardening?’
‘Only since I got this house. I’m learning as I go along, but I’m getting really interested, and I’m finding it a wonderful relaxation from all the things I usually think about or read.’
‘Mmm, I can believe that. What’s that quotation again?’ Bridie wrinkled her brow in thought.
“The kiss of the sun for pardon,
The song of the birds for mirth,
One is nearer God’s heart in a garden
Than anywhere else on Earth.”
I think that’s right, isn’t it?’
‘I don’t know, but they’re lovely lines,’ Fiona agreed. ‘You always were the one who wrote excellent essays and read such a lot when we were at school. Who wrote it, do you know?’
‘It was a lady called Dorothy Frances Gurney, I think.’
‘I was telling your father the other day that he underestimates your ability,’ Fiona said thoughtfully. ‘I’m not sure whether I offended him.’
‘Oh, you didn’t. He was telling me. In truth, he probably paid more attention to you. He’s being very generous, I …’
‘Come on in and tell me all about it then, if you’ve time?’
Bridie followed Fiona round to the back door and into the kitchen.
‘I really came to talk to you about Beth. I’m worried about her and I thought you might know what’s wrong?’
‘A-h, so you’ve noticed too. I wondered if it was just me imagining things, but recently Lucy has told me several times her mum is exhausted and lying down, or “she’s just sitting in the chair staring into space”. I tried to talk to Beth about three weeks ago but she burst into tears and said there was nothing wrong with her, nothing at all. She picked up her things and rushed out. I thought I’d offended her but she came round the following evening and just carried on as though everything was normal, so I followed her example and I haven’t dared mention anything since.’
‘Oh dear,’ Bridie sighed. ‘I don’t know how we can help until she confides in us. Mum has tried to talk to her too. After all, they’ve known each other since Beth went to Glens of Lochandee as a maid when she was 13 or 14.’
‘We must just be patient then and hope things come right for her,’ Fiona said. ‘But we all need friends sometime and I’ve been glad of Beth popping across to see me. As for Lucy, she’s such a bright, happy girl. I really enjoy her company …’ Fiona frowned, evidently considering her thoughts. ‘There is just one thing … but really Beth asked me in confidence. At the time, I didn’t think much about it and it’s ages ago anyway, after I came back from the business about your mother’s vase.’
‘You mean advice in your professional capacity?’
‘Yes, well sort of.’
‘Then it’s better you don’t tell me, Fiona. I understand, and I don’t suppose it can have anything to do with Beth’s present state.’
‘Perhaps not.’
Later when Bridie had gone, Fiona’s thoughts returned to Beth. She recalled the night she had asked her to be Lucy’s guardian. Perhaps she should mention it? Maybe she wanted to change her mind. I’ll make an opportunity for Beth to talk about it again sometime, she resolved, and went back to her gardening, her thoughts on Lucy.
It was the beginning of November by the time the bank loan had finally been granted and Bridie began to feel Glens of Lochandee really belonged to her. Two weeks later her euphoria was shattered. She heard Nick slam the door of the little truck he always used for his work at the garage. The days were short now and it was nearly dark already. Bridie hummed as she put the finishing touches to the evening meal. She wanted it to be special tonight. A little smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she turned to greet Nick.
She knew something had upset him as soon as he entered the kitchen and she saw his face, white and stern, his dark eyes glittering with anger. He stared at her and stabbed a finger at his chest.
‘This is me! Nicholas Jones, your husband. My own man, I am, Bridget. Capable of supporting my own wife, I am! Some bloody waif you picked up off the street, you think? Is it then? Have you …?’
‘Nick? Wh-what’s wrong …’ Bridie stepped away from him. She had never seen him so angry, so cold.
‘Wrong? Wrong, is it?’ He gave a bitter snort. ‘Telling you, I am. Your husband, is it? So I am the last to be knowing? Why …?’
‘B-but I only knew myself – for sure – today …’ Bridie stammered.
‘Today? Duw! Stupid is it, you think? Not going to tell me, was it? You do want to shut me out of your life! Fine then, it is. Now I will go …’
‘Nick! Wait! I-I d-don’t understand …’ But he had turned on his heel and rushed out of the door again, slamming it behind him. Bridie slumped onto a chair. She felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. How could Nick have heard? Had he seen Doctor MacEwan at the garage? No one else knew. Her face paled. Did Nick think she was deliberately keeping her news to herself again? Even from him? Surely he didn’t think she would risk losing another baby? He couldn’t think that, could he? A baby – it was the one thing she longed for more than anything else in the world, and she knew it was his dearest wish too.
The carefully prepared meal dried up in the oven, but Nick did not return. She went to the door and looked out but the night was dark and a chill wind was springing up. The farmyard was deserted now except for Shep, the collie dog, sleeping with his head on his paws
in his kennel. Only the clink of a cow’s chain in the byre disturbed the silence. Bridie felt as though there was only her in the vast dark universe. She shivered and closed the door. In the small sitting room, the fire was dying down and she put on more logs. She turned on the television and turned it off again. She couldn’t settle. Her stomach churned, but she couldn’t eat.
The clock in the kitchen ticked away the minutes, and then the hours, and still Nick did not return. Bridie paced between the room and the kitchen. She put more logs on the fire until the huge basket was empty. She looked at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was after midnight, her back ached and she was tired, and utterly miserable and bewildered. Surely, if Nick had gone down to the village he would have been home by now? Where else could he have gone, without his supper, without even a coat? She was exhausted but unwilling to undress and go to bed alone.
Nick walked fast but without direction. He just knew he needed to get outside, to walk and walk, and not think, not allow the hurt and anger to boil and erupt like a sleeping volcano. He had no idea how far he had walked in the darkness and he didn’t care, but his thoughts were in his head and he couldn’t leave them behind. How could Bridie treat him as though he was no more than a lodger in her house? Conan had looked so jubilant, but he had assumed Bridie had already told him of her own plans, and what she had achieved. He was the only one who didn’t know. Her parents had known, of course, and the bank manager, and the lawyer. Even Fiona Sinclair must have known Bridie had taken out a huge bank loan to buy the land. What sort of a husband did the bank manager think he was? Bridie had always known he wanted to provide for his wife himself. He had refused to marry her until he could take care of her. His muddled thoughts went round and round and his head ached but still he walked on, never feeling the rising wind through his thick sweater.
The Legacy of Lochandee Page 22
