COMING HOME
Gwen Kirkwood
© Gwen Kirkwood 2014
Gwen Kirkwood has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
First published in 2014 by Endeavour Press Ltd.
Table of Content
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Extract from A Question of Love by Gwen Kirkwood
One
‘They’re making a party in Dornielea village hall for the local children, Mum,’ Megan Oliphant said as she helped her mother to peel vegetables for a large pot of broth. The kitchen of the old Scottish farmhouse was warm and pleasant with the August sunshine streaming through the windows and glinting on the burnished steel hinges of the black-leaded range. ‘It’s to celebrate V.J. Day. Isn’t it a relief to know Japan has surrendered and the war is over at last?’
‘Aye it is, but the effects of the atomic bomb sound terrible. There will be a lot of innocent people affected by it. Surely we shall all welcome peace in the world now,’ Chrissie agreed. She was as relieved as everyone else to know that 1945 had brought an end to the fighting in Europe, and in the Far East too, but her smile belied the ache in her heart. It was a pain she and her husband, John, shared with thousands of parents who had sacrificed their sons in the name of freedom. Never again would Sam return to the Scottish hills and glens he had loved so well.
‘Providing food for everyone will not be easy with the rationing,’ Megan remarked with surprising maturity, considering her age. ‘I wonder how it—’
‘I think most people will be glad to do what they can to make it a real victory celebration,’ Chrissie reassured her. ‘I think there’s to be a bonfire and fireworks. I’ve promised to make sandwiches and the strawberry table jelly I’ve been keeping for a special occasion.’ She smiled at her daughter’s pensive face. ‘Mrs Turner asked if you would lend a hand with the wee ones?’
‘Yes, of course I will.’ The Turners were her parents’ employers so Megan felt she would have needed a good excuse before she could refuse, but she loved children and she would enjoy helping to organise games for the younger ones. ‘It should be fun.’ She caught her mother’s eye and her green eyes gleamed wickedly. ‘Does “everyone” mean “our Natalie” will be helping too?’ she asked with feigned innocence. Natalie was the Turners’ only child. She had always been rather spoiled and now that she was a teenager she considered herself superior to ordinary mortals such as Megan Oliphant and her parents.
‘I shouldn’t think Natalie will be seen near the village,’ Chrissie responded dryly. ‘But the Turners have only themselves to blame for her snooty ways. After all they sent her to that private school until she was eleven, and they would have sent her away to boarding school after that if it hadn’t been for the war.’
‘I suppose they didn’t want her to mix with us village children,’ Megan said, pulling a monkey face. Chrissie couldn’t hide a smile.
‘She’s the same age as you so she would have been in the same class. I reckon they were afraid their herdsman’s wee lassie might show her up. You were always a bright wee thing even then, and you have shown Natalie a thing or two ever since you both ended up at the Academy,’ Chrissie added, unable to hide a note of pride.
‘Natalie never wanted to play with Sam and me even when we weren’t at school,’ Megan said. ‘She used to watch us over the garden wall but when we asked if she wanted to join us she always turned up her nose and turned away.’
‘I don’t suppose Sam cared. He and Steven Caraford were inseparable from the day they started school until the day Sam died.’
‘And I tagged along with them,’ Megan chuckled, ‘whether they wanted me or not.’
‘I don’t think they minded having you most of the time,’ Chrissie sighed reminiscently. ‘Steven was always a kind laddie and I always knew the pair o’ them would look after you.’
‘I know. I don’t think any of us would have enjoyed having Natalie join us. She always gave the impression she considered her family superior to Steven, as well as to Sam and me, even though his father farms at Willowburn.’
‘I expect that’s because Martinwold is the largest farm in the parish and the Turners own it. The surrounding farms all belong to the Estate and the Carafords and their neighbours are only tenant farmers.’
‘I know,’ Megan grinned, ‘and as for Dad…’
‘Being an employee? Aye we Oliphants are even lower down Natalie’s social scale.’ Chrissie nodded unperturbed. ‘Thank goodness her father doesn’t share her views. He has always treated your father fairly and with respect, and he pays us generously.’
‘If he is generous it’s only because he knows he’d never get another man as knowledgeable about cattle as Dad, or as reliable and conscientious,’ Megan said heatedly. ‘He knows Dad couldn’t manage such a big dairy herd without you to help him too. I once heard him telling Dad what a good team you make together.’
‘I suppose we do. We’ve always worked together since we married. It’s our life and the way we were both brought up.’
As the Martinwold herdsman, John Oliphant was in charge of the Turners’ pedigree Ayrshires. This entailed organising the daily routine of milking, feeding and cleaning as well as studying the breeding and caring for the health of the cows and their calves. Chrissie was in charge of the milk and she was scrupulous about the hygiene in the dairy.
‘Anyway Dad needs to be well paid when he has to hire his own labour.’
‘Aye ye’re right there, lassie,’ Chrissie sighed. ‘The dairy herd represents a good two thirds of the Turners’ income so it’s a responsible job and John takes a pride in his work.’
‘And not only Dad,’ Megan said loyally. ‘You’ve always had to provide board and lodging for a hired man, except when Sam left school and before he had to join the army. That makes extra cooking and laundry, as well as helping with the milking yourself.’
‘That’s true, but we’re happy enough so long as we have our health and strength, and we have a wee nest egg put by for our old age.’
‘About the party, Mum, did you know every child in the parish is being presented with a victory teaspoon?’ Megan asked, her thoughts returning to the local celebrations. She chuckled. ‘That includes me, even though I’m not a child anymore.’
‘Officially you’re still a schoolgirl until you go to college so why shouldn’t you get one. It will be a keepsake.’ Chrissie turned to look at her pretty daughter. ‘Don’t be too eager to be a woman lassie. Seventeen is a lovely age to be. Enjoy your youth while you can.’
‘I do enjoy it,’ Megan said, a smile curving the corners of her mouth; her green eyes held a dreamy look. Chrissie had seen that look several times recently, whenever there was a letter from Steven in fact. She liked him, they all did, but she didn’t want Meggie to be hurt. Steven would be twenty three now, the same age as Sam would have been, but he would be more mature than she or John had been at that age; he had seen fighting and suffering, witnessed destruction and death, Sam’s death. Would he still regard Megan as Sam’s wee sister, the child who had to be watched over and protected, the little girl they had teased, and whose long auburn pleats they had tugged, making her green eyes sparkle with temper?
When the two boys were called up to join the army, Megan had missed them dreadfully.
She had written to Sam every week without fail. Fortunately the two friends had been drafted into the same unit and they shared Megan’s letters as they shared most things, including writing the replies. Sam had never enjoyed writing. Even at school, Steven had often helped him with his homework. It proved a good solution to share their correspondence and Steven wrote interesting accounts of their new life, and his letters were often humorous, at least at first. After Sam’s death Megan had continued to write and Steven always replied. They knew he missed Sam badly and he had certainly given the impression that he welcomed her letters more than ever. But five years had wrought many changes and all Chrissie’s instincts warned her Megan’s feelings had moved on from childish hero worship to teenage fantasy, at least as far as Steven was concerned. Young love could be so wonderful and tender, but it could be painfully heartbreaking.
‘So do you agree, Mum?’ Megan’s voice interrupted her reverie.
‘Agree? What about?’
‘Mum! You were miles away.’ Her voice softened. ‘Were you thinking about Sam?’
‘No. No, as a matter of fact I was thinking about Steven…’
‘So was I. That’s what I was saying. All the soldiers will be coming home now and we can all get on with our lives. It said on the radio that a million soldiers will have been demobbed by 1946. There will be plenty of men returning to take up their jobs. So I don’t think I ought to waste three years of my life at college training to be a teacher.’
‘Oh Meggie, we’ve been over all this before! You have such a promising future. Please don’t throw it all away. You’ve done so well at school. You’ve been promised a place at college, even without the results of your recent examinations. The Rector thinks we should be encouraging you to go to university. He says you are one of the best students at the Academy.’
‘My education at the Academy will help me to get a good job in an office, Mum, maybe with one of the solicitors,’ Megan protested. ‘I would be working and earning money straight away. I could be saving up, and you and Dad wouldn’t have the expense of keeping me for another three years. You’ve done so much for me already what with school uniforms and everything on coupons, and me having to board in the hostel during the week.’
‘You know we don’t mind all that if it helps you to have a career and a better future. We’re proud of you, Meggie. You passed the examinations to attend the Academy. Mr Turner had to pay for Natalie to go there, and even with all their money she hasna done half as well as you. You have the ability. Please don’t waste it now. We want you to have an easier life than we’ve had. We want to give you every opportunity we can afford. You’re all we have now.’ Her mother’s voice wobbled and Megan knew she was thinking of Sam and the future he would never have. She regretted upsetting her. She knew her parents loved her dearly. They wanted what was best for her, but what was best? What did her future hold?
In their letters she and Steven could discuss almost any topic under the sun, but whenever he mentioned the future it always concerned his dreams of returning to Willowburn and his ambition to be as good a farmer as his father. Did he ever think of her as part of his future or did he still regard her as Sam’s young sister?
Chrissie sighed, her own thoughts following a similar path to her daughter’s. Megan always used to leave Steven’s letters for her and John to read but over the past year she had begun keeping them to herself. Had they become more personal? Had Steven given her any reason to believe she was special to him, or was it Meggie’s wishful thinking? They all knew about Steven’s dreams for the future and his longing to get on with farming Willowburn with his father and Fred, his half-brother, but how secure was his future? There were all sorts of rumours going around about Fred Caraford and Willowburn Farm and none of them were reassuring.
She frowned, remembering the beginning of January 1940 when the call up papers for the army had arrived for Sam. She could still picture Jim Browlea’s grave expression when he delivered the letter, and the shock they all felt when Sam opened it. As the local postman Jim had delivered many such envelopes and he had known what they meant, while they had believed agricultural workers were exempt, as miners were. Before the war, the government had relied heavily on imported food and the country had no reserves. Only one day after war was declared, one of the liners had sunk after being torpedoed. According to the rumours, the ships were finding it increasingly difficult to evade the German submarines and their lethal torpedoes. Starving the British people would be a way of gaining their submission. In spite of the talk of “peace in our time” it became clear that some members of the government must have anticipated the possibility of war with Germany. Plans for food rationing had been put into place immediately and farmers were ordered to plough up pasture to grow more cereals. Consequently Chrissie and John, and many other country folks, had believed all available hands would be needed to produce food for the soldiers and for the British people at home. Even now Chrissie remembered the sinking feeling when they were informed that a land-girl was to be allocated to them to take Sammy’s place at Martinwold while he was drafted into the army.
The Oliphants had not been alone in their belief that farm workers were exempt. There had been considerable gossip and supposition amongst the neighbouring farmers when they heard one of the Caraford brothers of Willowburn had been called up to serve in the armed forces. The authorities had informed Eddy Caraford that he would only be allowed to keep one of his sons to work on his seventy acre farm with him. The other could be replaced by a land-girl. Everyone knew Eddy was proud of Steven’s prowess with the ploughing and it was common knowledge that he had inherited Eddy’s own qualities when it came to good stocksmanship. Fred was the elder of his two sons but he had shown no particular interest in anything; he had refused to learn to plough and he objected to getting up early to milk the cows.
Steven longed to stay at Willowburn and continue with the work he loved and the challenges of improving the land and increasing production but Fred had flown into rages at the mere mention that he should go. He seemed petrified at the prospect of joining the army and being asked to fight. He was adamant that he should not be the one to go.
‘I’m the eldest. My place is here!’ he yelled, stamping his foot, as he had when he was a toddler in a tantrum. ‘It’s my birthright to work the farm as my grandfather and great grandfather have done.’ He chose to forget that Steven shared these paternal ancestors and in spite of his fine words he had never made the slightest effort to pull his weight and follow their example.
There was genuine astonishment when the neighbours heard it was Steven who would be going to the army.
‘’Twad dae Fred a power o’ guid tae join the services and have a boss, so ’twad,’ declared one neighbour.
‘Shittin’ his breeks at the thought o’ leaving hame, I shouldna wonder,’ announced Willy McKay viciously. He had no love for Fred’s lazy arrogance and bullying ways.
‘A guid day’s work wad kill the young devil, if ye ask me,’ an older neighbour prophesied. ‘I pity Eddy being left wi’ yon idle bugger at hame.’
Whatever the neighbours’ views, it had been Steven and Sam who had gone to fight for their country and Fred who had stayed at Willowburn.
***
Hannah Caraford was another of the thousands of mothers who breathed sighs of relief now that peace had been declared. She looked out of the bedroom window at the fields of Willowburn stretching down the glen; she raised her eyes to the sparkle of the Solway firth in the distance with the Galloway hills to the west and the Cumberland hills to the east. The past five years had seemed like a lifetime with Steven away in the army. She knew how he had yearned for the day when he could return to Willowburn and the way of life he loved. She was filled with joy at the prospect of having him home again, but Fred’s outburst at breakfast time had certainly marred her happiness. If only Fred could have shown a little pleasure at the prospect of his half brother’s safe return. Instead he had shocked her when he delivered an
ultimatum which could put an end to a future at Willowburn for them all, including himself.
‘I tried so hard to be a good mother to him. Where did I go wrong?’ she murmured aloud as she gave a final glance around the bedroom she had lovingly prepared for Steven. She was sure she had never favoured one little boy more than the other, even though Steven was her own flesh and blood; Fred’s jealousy had reared its ugly head when he was only six years old, almost from the day Steven was born. He had believed she didn’t love him because he hated school and she had to make him go while the new baby stayed at home with her. His resentment seemed to have grown and festered with the years.
This morning Jim Brownlee, the postman, had delivered a telegram from Steven with the news that he would be home today. Joyfully she had read it aloud to Jim. Edna, their land girl, was still eating her bacon and egg so she had heard the news too. Eddy had already eaten and gone out to get on with the day’s work and Fred had not yet appeared, being late for breakfast as usual. Edna had lost no time in telling him the news of his brother’s return. As soon as he heard Steven was due home he had flown into a rage and dropped his bombshell.
‘If I can’t have all of Willowburn, none o’ ye will have any of it!’ he stormed.
Two
Whatever the future might hold for them all, Hannah couldn’t help feeling a surge of relief to know that Steven was alive and well; he had survived, he was coming home. The war was over at last. His childhood friend, Sam Oliphant, had not been so lucky, Hannah reflected sadly. Sam had been such a fine boy with his cheery smile and twinkling green eyes. Unfortunately there were thousands who shared his fate. She had prayed for Steven’s safe return every day for the past five years and she would count her blessings, whatever evil scheme Fred had in mind.
Even so, her agile brain considered the possibilities of foiling Fred’s spite. Eddy was looking forward to his younger son’s return too and she was reluctant to spoil his pleasure by telling him about Fred’s threats. Yet she couldn’t deny he was so insanely jealous he would do almost anything to prevent Steven returning to farm at Willowburn, even forcing all of them, to sell up and leave, including his own father.
Coming Home Page 1
