The Legacy of Lochandee

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘Mmm … I don’t know. I don’t suppose we could go to a real live theatre, could we?’

  ‘I don’t see why not?’ Fiona said thoughtfully. ‘I’ll enquire what’s on in Glasgow and Edinburgh. We might need to stay the night though, if we go to an evening performance.’

  ‘Wouldn’t that cost too much?’ Lucy said anxiously. ‘Do you think we should tell Conan? He might take a bus.’

  ‘All right, we’ll ask him. If he doesn’t think it’s a good idea, we’ll have a wee treat to ourselves,’ Fiona smiled. She knew how sensitive Lucy was about money and being dependent on other people. She insisted on cycling all the way to Conan’s garage every Saturday to work at the petrol pumps and earn some money herself. It was while she was there that she mentioned the proposed trip to the theatre.

  As a result, Conan called to see Fiona the following Sunday evening.

  ‘I think it would be a splendid idea to run a trip to the theatre, if I can get enough bookings to make it economical. I could do with you for an Ideas and Bookings Manager. How about coming to work for me on the days you don’t go to the Nivens’? Of course, I can’t pay their rates …’ He broke off and Fiona was touched by his sudden boyish diffidence. It was a side to Conan she was only just getting to know.

  ‘The money isn’t the problem, but your grotty little office would be. I don’t know how you find anything in there. If you’re serious, I could make a list of suggestions, though, and make enquiries from here for the ones you approve?’

  ‘I’d appreciate that,’ Conan nodded enthusiastically. ‘Things are going pretty well but the paperwork takes a lot of organising and I end up doing most of it in the flat at night. I’m fairly certain I miss some bookings for trips if I can’t get to the phone in time.’

  ‘All right, I’ll have a think about it, but it was Lucy’s idea to go to the theatre so if that proves a success perhaps you could give her the credit?’

  ‘Yes, I will. She’s still a bit awkward with me. I don’t think she feels I’m old enough to be her father. To tell the truth, I don’t feel old enough either.’

  ‘I suppose it takes a bit of getting used to for both of you. You could try treating her as an older cousin, or something. You used to have such a good relationship, and after all it was you she ran to when she discovered Harry was not her real father. That must tell you something about her respect and affection for you.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose you’re right.’

  ‘She is beginning to accept she’s part of your family anyway. She had been teasing Ewan the other day, calling him “Uncle”. She said he was furious. He seems so young in comparison to Lucy.’

  ‘Yes, they’re growing apart, but maybe girls do grow up faster.’

  ‘Lucy has had a lot to contend with and it has made her more mature than she ought to be. I would like to bring some fun back into her life. What do you think to the idea of me taking her and Ewan on one of your bus tours? Do you do any to the seaside resorts? Something which might attract parents with older children and young teens?’

  ‘No … we usually have older couples and it’s mostly to the Highlands or the Lake District,’ Conan said thoughtfully. ‘But if you can think of something which might appeal I’d be willing to give it a try. In fact, we could make it a pleasant break for the four of us if I arrange to drive the bus myself. Maybe a week-long stay with a couple of bus tours from whatever centre you decide on … Yes, I think that’s a splendid idea.’

  ‘You mean a combination of business and pleasure?’ Fiona smiled. ‘Mind, it has to prove economical to run the bus. Still, it may help you and Lucy get back on to your old footing if you’re both more relaxed in other surroundings.’

  ‘I do believe we could make a good partnership, with your ideas and my transport organisation!’ Conan said, with a note of surprise. He stood up to leave and held out a hand. ‘Shake on it, partner?’

  Fiona smiled and put her hand in his, but on the spur of the moment he bent and kissed her cheek. It was a light, friendly kiss, but long after he had gone, Fiona pondered her changing views of Conan Maxwell. Beth had always insisted there was another side to him hidden behind the confident and ambitious businessman.

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  BRIDIE HAD KEPT IN remarkably good health and her excitement grew as the birth of her baby drew nearer. Nick was happier than he had believed possible a year ago. He and Conan had returned to their old easy camaraderie, now that they were no longer in business together, and they helped each other out willingly where their business interests overlapped. Nick enjoyed his work and was continually improving his skills, now that he had more time to experiment. The local farmers respected him for his fair dealing, while recognising he was not to be trifled with. He employed a part-time driver for the cattle lorry and market days were proving increasingly hectic transporting all manner of livestock from farms to market and on to other farms.

  ‘I think we shall have to employ a tractor driver for the ploughing and cultivation after all,’ Bridie said one evening when he had been working late to catch up on his own work.

  ‘Yes, I agree. Things have taken off better for me than I ever dreamed,’ Nick grinned. ‘How would you feel about employing Tommy for two or three days a week? He was a tractor driver for the War Ag. before he came to drive the cattle lorry for me. He has a smallholding, but it doesn’t bring in enough money to keep his family – not with six children to feed and clothe!’

  ‘Six! Goodness gracious, they’ll take some keeping. It’s a good job the rationing is almost at an end. Perhaps you would ask him if he wants to work the rest of the week at Glens of Lochandee? Otherwise you are going to end up with even less time for your wife and family than you had when you were working with Conan.’

  ‘I’ve no intention of neglecting you, dear Bridie, or this little chappie …’ he added with a grin and a gentle pat on Bridie’s stomach.

  ‘I hope you’ll not be disappointed if your little “chappie” turns out to be a wee girl,’ she said anxiously.

  ‘Of course not,’ Nick grinned, then his expression sobered. ‘Just so long as you are both all right, that’s all I ask. Surely it’s already overdue?’

  ‘Yes, by my reckoning,’ Bridie sighed.

  Two nights later, Nick was wakened by Bridie’s restless pacing of the floor. He wanted to send for the midwife immediately, before Bridie persuaded him to wait until morning. The labour was a long one, but nothing would persuade Nick to leave the house, or to go for a sleep. He had telephoned Nether Rullion as soon as it was daylight and Rachel had come over immediately, but the day wore on and night had fallen again. Still they waited.

  ‘It’s far worse waiting than it ever was having babies myself,’ Rachel told Mrs Marsh, the midwife.

  ‘Are you sure Bridie shouldn’t be in hospital?’ Nick asked abruptly. ‘I thought more babies were born in hospital than at home now?’

  ‘A good lot of them are,’ Mrs Marsh said, ‘but they can’t hurry nature, even in hospital, and when the wee thing is born you’ll be glad your wife and child are here, under your own roof.’

  ‘But it’s been so long …’

  ‘Aye, it’s a big baby, I think. Probably a wee laddie.’ She smiled at Nick. ‘Laddies usually cause the most trouble.’

  Two more hours passed, then Bridie brought her baby into the world. She was totally exhausted, yet almost delirious with joy and satisfaction as she cradled her son in her arms. Nick simply couldn’t take his eyes from the child he and Bridie had created. He felt it was nothing short of a miracle and they were truly blessed.

  A weary Mrs Marsh smiled with satisfaction at their happiness. She settled mother and child and promised to return first thing in the morning. It seemed to Nick and Rachel that the moment she had shut the door behind her the baby wakened and howled as loud as his tiny lungs allowed. Nothing seemed to calm him and Bridie was near to tears with doubts and weariness.

  Gently, Nick lifted the tiny bundle from her arms and be
gan to sing to his son. There was a world of love in his eyes and his voice was soft and deep as he sang the Welsh lullaby Suo Gan. Watching Nick rocking the child so tenderly, listening to the beautiful melody, Rachel felt a lump in her throat. Silently, she tiptoed to the bedroom door. Bridie raised her eyes briefly and smiled contentedly as her mother blew her a kiss.

  ‘That was beautiful, Nick,’ she said softly, as he laid the sleeping infant into his crib. ‘Will you teach me to sing that lullaby?’

  ‘In Welsh? I’ll try. It seemed to do the trick,’ Nick whispered. ‘At least he’s sleeping again. Noisy wee fellow though, isn’t he?’ There was a world of pride in his voice. He bent and kissed Bridie’s lips. ‘I love you very much, Mrs Jones.’

  ‘And I love you too, “Daddy”. I’m sure you’ll be a wonderful father, Nick.’ She smiled up at him, brimming over with happiness, in spite of her exhaustion.

  * * *

  At the beginning of the school summer holidays, Ewan and Lucy prepared excitedly for their first real holiday.

  ‘You’d better come back ready to work, my lad,’ Ross told his younger son gruffly.

  ‘I’d left school when I wasn’t much older than you.’ Conan grinned affectionately at his younger brother.

  ‘I expect Dad will blame me for being a bad influence if you don’t turn out to be a farmer either, young Ewan.’

  ‘Oh, but I do want to be a farmer. I want to make Nether Rullion the best farm in Scotland, and I’ve told Bridie I intend to beat her to winning the championship for the best dairy cow at Dumfries Show.’

  ‘You may well beat her to it. Bridie has other priorities now,’ Conan said.

  ‘She has,’ Ross agreed, ‘but it doesn’t stop her keeping a close eye on her animals. She takes wee Max with her whenever she can, and she has at least two fine cows she’s getting ready for this year’s show. Nick seems keen to help her too.’ He looked Conan in the eye. ‘I’m glad the two of you split up the garage business. Nick takes a lot of interest in Glens of Lochandee and he’s proving a great support to Bridie now.’

  ‘Is that a hint that you’re still disappointed I didn’t take up farming, Dad? It’s just as well when you think about it – you’d have needed to buy another farm for Ewan. Anyway, one day I intend to make you proud of my success too.’

  ‘We’re proud of you already, Conan,’ Rachel assured him. She had seen the shadows in his eyes but she had long since given up hope of Conan and Ross seeing eye to eye about farming.

  It had been Fiona’s idea to take a coach tour to Scarborough, combining scenic tours of the Yorkshire moors and dales with the entertainment of a seaside resort. She had persuaded Conan to advertise in the local paper, making a point of attracting other youngsters with their parents. Conan had been amazed at the number who had wanted to book.

  ‘We could almost have taken two coaches,’ he said.

  ‘Well, if it’s a success you could arrange another a little later in the summer if the hotel can fit you in, or there may be other suitable hotels. This is a medium-sized, family-run hotel, according to the person who answered my questions before I made the booking. The prices seemed reasonable, so I do hope it’ll be all right.’

  ‘I’m sure it will be fine. I’m beginning to wonder how I managed before you took over the bookings and arrangements.’

  ‘My word, that is praise indeed, Mr Maxwell,’ Fiona quipped. ‘Can I have it in writing and signed, please?’

  ‘Och, was I as bad as all that? You couldn’t say much good can come out of anyone’s death, but at least since Beth died we’ve been better friends.’

  ‘Yes,’ Fiona sighed. ‘Lucy never grumbles, but I know she misses her mother terribly.’

  ‘It’s only natural, but I know she appreciates everything you do for her. She has told me so on several occasions after the two of you have been on some jaunt or other.’

  Conan was a good driver and he had obviously read a lot about the area because he kept the interest of his passengers with local anecdotes and historical facts. Nick had fixed some kind of loud speaker into the bus which Conan usually drove and the passengers could hear him without difficulty. There were ten younger passengers on the coach and Ewan and Lucy had quickly made friends with 14-year-old twins from Lockerbie. There were also four 12-year-old boys and Fiona wondered whether they would be difficult to control when they all got together but Conan set out the rules from the beginning and his voice was pleasant but firm. He made it clear that he expected their parents to be responsible for the safety and behaviour of their own families. The other two 15-year-old girls had obviously been close friends before the holiday and were keeping each other company.

  Fiona was relieved to find the hotel clean and comfortable. The proprietor and his wife gave them all a warm welcome and asked everyone to come to them if they had any difficulties or complaints. It seemed to strike the right note from the outset.

  ‘It’s so different from our sea,’ Ewan said as they walked along the beach after they had all unpacked. ‘The tide doesn’t go out for miles and miles like it does on the Solway Firth.’

  ‘No, but that’s because that is a firth – a tidal estuary,’ Fiona explained.

  ‘There’s such a lot of people here though! And all those things like the fairground. Mr and Mrs Black say there’s an orchestra that plays in a park in the open air. And there’s a café where you can eat the crabs and lobsters as soon as they’re caught.’

  Conan grinned as his eyes met Fiona’s. Ewan sounded very young and enthusiastic.

  The following evening as they ate their evening meal Lucy told them Mr and Mrs Black had invited herself and Ewan to accompany them on one of the steamers around Flamborough Head.

  ‘They said we would be company for John and Jacquie,’ Ewan added. ‘We can go with them, can’t we?’

  ‘Only if you promise not to get up to any mischief,’ Conan said sternly. ‘Mum and Dad would never forgive me if anything happened to either of you.’

  Fiona was glad Conan had included Lucy in the caring and she knew by the flicker in her green-blue eyes that she had noticed and was pleased.

  ‘Well, I suppose you two could come as well,’ Ewan said reluctantly, ‘but we’d like to go on our own with John and Jacquie, wouldn’t we, Lucy?’

  ‘I don’t mind so long as we can get to see what it’s like on one of the big steamers.’

  ‘I’ll have a word with Mr and Mrs Black then this evening,’ Conan promised.

  ‘If we’re getting a day to ourselves perhaps you’d like to take a picnic and explore some of the walks around the headland, Fiona? It would blow the cobwebs away.’

  ‘Suits me,’ Fiona nodded.

  The following morning Conan had arranged to collect sandwiches and fruit from the hotel and the cook had added a flask of coffee. They set off together, feeling free and in a holiday mood themselves. Fiona was wearing an apple-green pleated skirt with a white linen blouse and a dark-green corduroy lumber jacket which zipped up to the neck if the weather turned cool. As soon as they got away from the shelter of the town and onto the open cliff tops Fiona knew her pleated skirt had been a mistake. Conan laughed aloud when a sudden gust almost blew it over her head.

  ‘You might help instead of splitting your sides,’ she told him bashfully, her cheeks rosy with embarrassment, the effort of controlling her wayward skirt, and the wind.

  ‘Just let it blow. I’ve seen your legs before, and very nice legs they are too …’

  ‘Conan Maxwell! If you … if you mention that …’

  ‘Mention what?’ Conan asked innocently but his eyes were dancing with devilment. Fiona scowled and decided not to pursue that line of conversation. She still felt hot all over whenever she remembered the night of Bridie’s wedding.

  ‘I’ve seen a lot of women wearing slacks since we arrived here. My mother always disapproved of women who wore trousers, but I wish I’d had a pair for today.’

  ‘Bridie has worn trousers ever since she left s
chool, though I seem to remember she had a bit of a battle with mother in the beginning, but she only wears them around the farm.’ He eyed Fiona’s trim figure admiringly, delighting in seeing her blush. ‘I think you’d look very good in slacks with your long legs.’

  ‘Looking good has nothing to do with it, but a skirt in this wind is just a pest. I think I might go round the shops when we get back and see what I can find.’

  ‘Ugh, we’ll not be back before the shops close. Mrs Black said the sail they’d booked didn’t get back in until five o’clock so we may as well make the most of our day. Come and walk close to me then the wind won’t be so bad.’ He took her hand and moved to the side nearest the cliffs. ‘There, don’t I make a good shelter?’

  After a while they headed inland a little way, climbing away from the sea and Fiona enjoyed the sense of freedom and the wind in her hair. Conan sensed her mood and his heart soared too. He had never seen her looking so dishevelled and carefree. Her hair was neither blonde nor brown – now it looked almost silver in the sunlight. She usually wore it in a smooth, shining swathe curving beneath her chin; today it was blowing in the breeze, exposing her slender neck and oval face. ‘I think you should wear your hair back more often,’ he said, stroking it away from her brow with gentle fingers. Fiona looked at him and blinked.

  ‘You’re not at all like the Conan I remember,’ she said.

  ‘Maybe we’ve both changed since this business over Lucy, Beth dying, and everything. It was such a shock …’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘It’s a bit early for lunch but this wind has given me an appetite and there’s a nice sheltered hollow just a bit farther up that hillside. Are you ready to stop?’

  ‘I am. I wondered how I was going to survive until one o’ clock,’ Fiona grinned.

  A little while later, they settled themselves against a grassy hillock, sheltered on three sides from the wind, with an excellent view of the distant waves shining and dancing in the sunlight.

  ‘There’s something hypnotic about watching the ever-moving sea, don’t you think?’ Fiona said dreamily, helping herself to a salad sandwich. After they had eaten Conan leaned back, resting on his elbows, his long legs crossed.