‘Don’t worry laddie. In spite of his faults and the way he’s indulged Fred, Eddy loves you and me too much to give him all his own way. Sometimes it’s easier for him to shut his eyes to Fred’s faults, but I can’t do that this time. You’re my own flesh and blood and I shall do what I can to help you.’
‘I don’t want to be a bone of contention, Mother. Anyway I’ve been reminded of the frustration I used to feel with Fred. It’s funny how you forget the things you don’t want to remember. I saw how it upset Father too. That’s why I came away.’
‘I don’t want him upset either but I know how much you still yearn for a farm so listen to what I have to say, Steven, then you can decide what to do with your future. When the First World War finished, the government divided some of the largest farms into smaller holdings for men returning from the war who wanted to farm. They were all good farms. There’s some near Annan, and Gretna and Canonbie, aye and near Dumfries. I expect they’re in lots of counties. They’re in the hands of the Department of Agriculture for Scotland. They must take on new tenants when the old ones die or move on to a bigger farm.’
‘You mean the same as the Councils have small holdings to let in England?’
‘I don’t know what they do in England, but I reckon you must stand as good a chance of getting a holding to rent as anyone else when you’ve spent five years fighting for your country. I’ve thought about it a lot, even before Fred dropped his bombshell this morning. I’d like you to make enquiries and put your name down if they have waiting list. I expect you’d need references but maybe your sergeant will speak for ye, and the school master.’
‘Aah, Mother, I’d need more than references to get a tenancy, however small the farm might be. I’d need to buy stock to make an income before I could pay the rent. I’d need at least one horse and cart for the work.’
‘You stand as good a chance as anybody,’ Hannah said, tilting her chin stubbornly.
‘Tell me what an army sergeant or a school master would know about farming and whether I’d be any good at it?’ Steven gave a hollow laugh. His mother meant well but she was confirming what he knew already. They had all accepted there was no place for him at Willowburn while Fred had anything to do with it.
‘Maybe Mr Turner, the Oliphants’ boss, would give ye a farming reference? He knew you and Sam when you were lads; he knows you’ve always wanted to be a farmer.’
‘He might, but even if I got an interview for a small holding they’d want to know how I planned to get the stock to start up. It would take nearly everything I’ve saved to buy a horse and cart.’ He sighed heavily. ‘I saved most of my pay but sometimes we needed to spend money on beer to drown our troubles, or to commiserate with a pal.’
‘I understand that Steven.’ She patted his arm. ‘And I’ve taken every penny of the money you sent home to the bank. I have a wee bit of money of my own though. I still have some of the money from the sale of Tom’s wee holding, and Mr Matthews left me two hundred pounds in his will. Tom had a life insurance, for when we grew old…’ She lifted her eyes to the trees and fell silent. Steven was too sensitive to interrupt her memories. Eventually she brought her gaze back to him. She plucked a piece of grass and twirled it round and round. ‘Where was I? Oh yes, Tom’s insurance. We never dreamed it could end so soon. The insurance company paid up though. I’d paid for the funeral from the wee bit we’d put by. I put everything in a bank account and it’s been there ever since. Fred bullied your father into buying the tractor so that took most of Eddy’s spare capital. He was probably right about us needing a tractor with the extra cereals and ploughing but he’s sly. He realised Eddy didn’t have the knack for tractor driving but he’s still had nearly all the horse implements converted to fit onto it. So you see your father is dependent on him. Fred has him exactly where he wants him now. And he hardly does any work unless it involves sitting on the tractor.’
‘Things are worse than I realised,’ Steven said slowly. ‘No wonder Fred feels he’s in charge and doesn’t want me back. Working the tractor would be no problem to me. I had to learn to drive a truck as soon as we got into the army.’
‘He’ll know that. So you see why I want you to try for a small holding and use my bit o’ money to buy stock and equipment. Your father knows about it and he says it’s up to me what I do with it, but until today I know he longed for the day when you returned to Willowburn. He’ll see what I’ve been trying to tell him now. There’d be no peace for any of us. If anything happened to me, Eddy would get my bit o’ money, but I know what Fred is like and he’d winkle it out of him if he found out. So you see, I’d rather you put it to good use Stevie.’
‘Oh Ma, I can’t take your money!’ Steven protested.
‘Yes, you can. If you add it to your savings you’ll have enough to get started in a small way. You’ll still have a struggle but I think you’d manage if you can get a tenancy. Anyway I’d already written to the bank manager before Fred delivered his ultimatum. I want you to go to Annan and sign the papers to get it into your name. If you’re going to Palestine make sure you go to the bank before you leave.’
‘No Mother, I canna do that. You might need it yourself…’
‘I’ll cross that bridge if I come to it. I don’t think your father is in the best of health. He gets so tired and that means he depends on Fred more than ever. If Fred gets his wish he’ll have the tenancy of Willowburn in his own name, or at least he will if the agent would agree. I don’t think they get on so well. Do you remember how Mr Griffiths used to drop in for a cup of tea and a chat with your father when he was passing?’
‘Yes, I remember him well.’
“We hardly ever see him now and when he calls Fred is always sullen or argumentative with him.’
‘That’s a pity. Father seems…,’ he frowned, ‘he seems smaller somehow, not frail exactly, but not the strong fit man I remember walking all day behind the horses.’
‘I know that Steven and that’s all the more reason for me to do what I can for you and get my own affairs sorted. You needn’t worry about me. Ever since Fred refused to join the army and you had to go I’ve seen how things are with him – selfish to the backbone. I’ve worked hard to keep our heads above water so I’ve earned anything I keep for myself. I buy a few national savings stamps at the post office every week when I take eggs to the village. The sixpenny stamps are building up a little nest egg. You mark my words laddie, if you look after the pennies, the pounds will look after themselves.’
‘I understand how things are with Fred but I still don’t want to take your money, Ma.’
‘I’d feel better if I knew it was in your name. I hope I never need help but I know you’d never see me starve. I’d have no faith in Fred though for all I’ve done, more for him than I have for you. There’s a callous streak in him. In fact,’ she lowered her voice although there was no one but the birds and an odd rabbit to hear, ‘he was downright brutal with one of the land girls we had and she was a lovely lassie. There doesn’t seem to be any tenderness in him.’
‘Mmm. I heard there’d been some gossip. Things were hushed up weren’t they?’
‘Aye, her father is a vicar in England and he didn’t want any trouble or unpleasantness for his lassie. But don’t side track me. Will you put your name down for a government smallholding, Steven?’ Her tone was brisk now. ‘I believe they’re the only solution if you want to farm, unless you want to get a job as a dairyman? They get good money when they have charge of a big herd, like Mr Oliphant.’
‘Aye, the money is good, probably better than being a small farmer, but you’re never your own boss. The cattle never belong to you however well you care for them, and its seven days a week all year round for somebody else’s benefit. When you take on a big dairy, like the Oliphants, you have to provide your own helpers too. I’d expected we would all work together like that at Willowburn for ourselves.’
‘I know, laddie but promise me you’ll get your name down as soon as you can?
Even if you are going to Palestine there’s no harm in letting them know you’re interested.’
Five
The first person Steven saw as he made his way up the road to Martinwold Farm was Mr Turner, the owner. He was driving a Ferguson tractor with a young woman perched on the mudguard. He scrambled up the grassy bank to let them pass but the tractor drew to a halt.
‘Hello young Steven,’ Mr Turner called jovially. ‘You’re home in time to help with harvest I see. I didn’t expect to see you still in uniform though?’
‘Afternoon Mr Turner. I haven’t been demobbed yet. We’re being drafted to Palestine.’
‘Ah that’s a shame, lad. I expect you were looking forward to being home and getting on with farming Willowburn,’ Turner said sympathetically.
‘I thought I was but it seems I’m not needed there.’
‘Not needed? By God you’re needed all right…’ He broke off frowning when he realised Steven was serious.
‘Maybe not wanted is what I should have said,’ Steven said abruptly and began to walk on.
‘Eh, wait a minute, Steven. I know your father has missed you and he could do with you back home. Britain will need all the food we can produce for years yet and Willowburn could do a lot better if that brother of yours would get himself out of bed in the mornings and get on with things. You were always the worker I remember. They need you lad.’
‘Yes, I could see that, but we could never work together. Fred made it clear he doesn’t want me interfering.’ He hesitated, remembering his mother’s advice. This might be the best opportunity he would get to talk to Mr Turner. ‘Mother thinks I should try to start up on my own when I do get demobbed. She suggested I apply for one of the government small holdings.’
‘Did she now?’ Mr Turner seemed surprised. ‘We-ell, maybe she knows best,’ he added thoughtfully. ‘I don’t imagine Fred is the easiest of fellows to get along with and if there’s strife in the home it doesn’t make for peace and happiness.’
‘I suppose not,’ Steven grimaced. It seemed everyone thought he should leave Willowburn to Fred.
‘If I do put my name forward for a government holding, I should need a reference from someone in farming…’ Steven flushed and broke off. Mr Turner looked at him keenly.
‘If you’re asking me for a reference Steven, you can give my name, but let me know about it. Its young men like you we need if this country is to get back on its feet. There’s changes ahead, and there’ll be opportunities for young men keen to work hard.’
‘Thanks Mr Turner.’ Steven smiled for the first time. ‘You don’t think it’s such a daft idea then?’
‘No-o, but you’d need capital to get started.’
Steven nodded and would have moved on but the girl leaned down and waved her hand in front of his eyes. Natalie Turner was not used to being ignored by young men.
‘Don’t you remember me, Steven?’
He blinked and looked at her properly.
‘Natalie…?’ The last time he had seen her she had been about twelve, the same age as Sam’s little sister. As he looked at her generous curves and the fashionable hair, done up in a roll around her head, he shook his head in disbelief. ‘You’ve grown up. You and Megan were starting at the Academy the last time I saw you.’ He blushed faintly as he met her glance and what some of his army pals called “that come to bed look”.
‘Natalie’s left school now,’ her father said. ‘She’s going to secretarial college at Carlisle in September. I’ve been telling her women are training for careers and earning their own living these days.’ Steven smiled. The Turners had been wealthy land owners before the war and he guessed Mr Turner would be making the most of every opportunity when food was in such demand. He treated his farm as a business. As an only child, Natalie would make some man a wealthy wife; he doubted if she would need to earn her own living for long.
As he walked on towards the farm steading and the old farmhouse where the Oliphants lived, he pondered on the changes war had brought. At one time Mr Turner would never have been seen in work clothes, or on a tractor. Megan and Natalie had never mixed in the same circles as children but Natalie’s parents had not wanted her to be too far away from home during the war so they had paid for her to attend Dumfries Academy. Megan had passed examinations to go and both girls had lived in the hostel during the week.
He quickened his pace, wondering if Megan had changed as much as Natalie Turner. She had never sent him a photograph of herself. She had been smaller, more slightly built than most of her school friends. He still pictured her in her short navy gymslip with her hair in two thick auburn pleats. He grinned remembering how strenuously she denied her hair was auburn when he teased her. Megan had had freckles and a snub nose and big green eyes with thick lashes the same colour as her hair. He wondered whether she was still as shy. Her letters had always seemed confident and mature, even when he and Sam first went away. She had a way with words. They had looked forward to her weekly letters. He would always be grateful that she had continued writing to him after Sam’s death. She brought things to life so that he could picture them in his head; she made him smile when she described the idiosyncrasies of people they knew.
‘Steven!’ Before he could knock on the door, Mrs Oliphant had flung it open and was holding out her soft plump arms to give him a hug. ‘I was just filling the kettle when I saw ye walking across the yard. Oh but ye’re a smart young fellow in your uniform.’
‘Come on in and let’s have a look at ye, Steven,’ her husband called from the kitchen. ‘You’re just in time for some tea before we start the milking.’ He followed Mrs Oliphant along the stone flagged passage into the big kitchen. It had an open range like his mother’s with a rag rug in front of it and a big tabby cat curled up asleep. John Oliphant came round the table and grasped his hand in a fierce grip, reaching around to pat his back with his other brawny arm. Megan stood back, smiling shyly and he seized her and swung her around as he and Sam always used to do but as soon as he felt her soft curves against him he realised she was just as much a young woman as Natalie Turner, even if she was small and slender and less sophisticated. He had made her blush with his exuberance. Her mother made things worse.
‘Hey lassie, there’s no need to blush for Stevie,’ she chuckled. ‘You’ve known him all your life.’
‘I was surprised that’s all. You didn’t say you were coming home so soon in your last letter, Steven.’ Megan’s brows were raised in a question.
‘No, I hoped I’d be demobbed and home for good but we’re being sent to Palestine.’
‘Aw that’s a real shame,’ Mrs Oliphant said. ‘Draw in your chair laddie. Pass another cup and saucer and a plate, Megan. Help yourself to a scone. There’s not much butter with the rationing. We have to scrape it on and scrape it off again, but we’ve plenty of home made jam.’
‘Aye help yourself lad,’ John Oliphant said. ‘I’m right glad to see you. Your Ma and Pa will be disappointed ye’re not home to stay though. They could do with ye at Willowburn now your Pa’s not so fit.’
Steven stared at the scone on his plate and didn’t answer. Megan looked up and saw the pulse throbbing above his jaw, she noticed the stern set to his mouth too. She exchanged a glance with her mother.
‘I expect Fred’s annoyed because you’re not coming back to do the work yet?’ Chrissie Oliphant prompted.
‘He’s more annoyed that I didna get myself killed like Sam.’ He couldn’t keep the bitterness out of his voice.
‘Oh Stevie, dinna say that!’
‘Well it’s true. He’s made it plain there’s no place for me up at Willowburn. He would like to get the tenancy in his name.’
‘The laird will never agree to that! What does your father say?’
‘Father doesn’t seem able to cope with him. He always hated arguments.’
‘He always gave Fred too much of his own way,’ John Oliphant said, ‘even when he was a laddie. Nobody can make up for him losing his mother. It wa
s God’s will and he couldn’t have had a finer mother than yours.’
‘I – er… I blotted my copy book.’ Steven looked up almost defiantly. His gaze met Megan’s. ‘I punched Fred in the face, gave him a split lip. It upset Dad.’
‘It would. You were always such a calm laddie. What happened?’
‘Fred meant to butt me in the stomach, as he used to do at school. I stepped out of the way in time and he sprawled in the dust.’ He saw laughter spring to Megan’s bright eyes and knew she didn’t hold his brawling against him. He glanced warily at her father. He had clapped a hand to his mouth trying to stifle a roar of laughter.
‘I’d loved to have seen it,’ he gasped. ‘Fred’s had that coming to him for a long time.’
‘He has that, big bully that he was with you and Sam,’ Mrs Oliphant said. ‘Don’t worry about it, your pa will get over it. He’s lucky you’ve waited so long to stand up to Fred. Now you eat up. I’ll fill up your tea.’
‘When have you to go back?’ Megan asked.
‘Tomorrow night. To be honest I wondered if I could cadge a bed for tonight. I don’t want…’
‘Of course ye can have a bed, laddie,’ Mrs Oliphant assured him.
‘Ye’re more than welcome, lad. I’d enjoy a proper chat with ye.’
‘Yes, I know,’ Steven nodded. John Oliphant would want to know how his only son had died. Well he could tell him truthfully; Sam had never lacked courage and he had died bravely like the man he was. Those few last whimpers and his own tears were between him and Sam and God above, though he had wondered if there was a God as he and Sam lay side by waiting for darkness to fall.
‘Can I lend a hand with the milking?’ he asked. ‘I’ll need to keep in practise.’
‘You certainly can laddie,’ Chrissie Oliphant chuckled. ‘I’ll find you some of John’s clothes to change into. They might be a bit short in the arms and legs. I can’t believe what a fine figure of a man you are these days.’ She found him a pair of wellingtons.
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