Coming Home

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘What would Fred say to that?’ Steven asked cautiously, but his heart was singing. His father wanted to help him and he knew Daisy had always been his favourite Clydesdale.

  ‘Fred has no time for the horses. He says they eat their heads off. It’ll take about three acres to keep Daisy between grazing and hay, but I reckon she’d be worth it until you can afford a tractor.’

  ‘Thanks Dad, if you’re sure?’

  ‘Aye, I’m sure. You can have the single furrow plough as well if you like. It’s no use to us now. Fred bought a new plough for the tractor. You’ll need to borrow another horse to work beside Daisy for the ploughing.’

  ‘Daisy solves my first problem and it will save a chunk o’ my savings. Now I might be able to afford a gilt as well as a sow,’ Steven grinned. ‘I’ll get my bike out when we get home. I’d like to go down to the Oliphants.’ He wanted to tell Megan his plans before she returned to college. He felt more optimistic now and Megan had always shared his dreams – and many of his fears - though he was finding it a bit different talking to Megan in person since he kissed her. She was a desirable young woman, although he tried not to dwell on such thoughts. He sighed. It would be years before he could consider asking any girl to marry him and he couldn’t expect Megan to wait.

  He pulled his attention back to the land with an effort.

  ‘This is the field that floods sometimes,’ he told his father as they walked beside the river bank. ‘You wouldn’t think the water would rise high enough.’

  ‘Water is a powerful beast,’ his father warned. ‘I’ve heard the tides can come up mighty fast and you’re not far from the Solway Firth. It grows good pasture though. Your cattle should do well here.’ He looked at the dark skeletons of the trees against the grey of the January sky. ‘There must be a fair bit of wind the way the trees are leaning but if you keep the hedges thick the cattle will have shelter.’ He sighed heavily. Fred had refused to learn to lay hedges or to keep the ditches and drains clear and he felt it was all getting beyond him. He wished Steven had been joining them at Willowburn but he knew the atmosphere between his two sons would lead to nothing but quarrels. He had had enough of that when Eleanor’s father had kept trying to interfere and tell him what to do but he had been a young man then and he had coped with the stress. In his heart he knew he should have been firmer with Fred when he was younger instead of always trying to compensate for him losing his mother.

  On the way back they saw one of the other smallholders spreading farm yard manure prior to ploughing his field. He came to the fence to talk to them.

  ‘You the new tenants for Bob McKie’s place?’ he asked curiously.

  ‘I’m seeing the solicitor and signing up today,’ Steven said warily.

  ‘Aye, Mistress McGuire said ye were a wee bit of a lad but we’re needing some young blood around here. I’m Bill Kerr frae Number Four Loaning,’ He spat on his hands and wiped them down his brown cords before extending one in greeting.

  ‘I’m Steven Caraford and this is my father. He farms at Willowburn, about six miles north of here.’

  ‘Pleased tae meet ye. We like to help each other when we can but we mind our ain business. Let me know if there’s anything I can do for ye. My son, Jimmy, is a mechanic and he works in Annan but he helps me when he can. By the way I’ve two fine collie pups left if you need a dog? You can take your pick at a guinea each. They’re well bred and their mother is a good worker.’

  ‘Thanks, I’ll think about it,’ Steven said slowly. A dog would be company when he was living on his own and useful if he did take on any sheep to eat the grass until he could buy enough stock of his own, but he needed to watch his money carefully until he had all the essentials.

  ‘I’ll buy him a pup,’ Eddy Caraford said, ‘if ye’ll take a pound.’ He pulled his old leather wallet from his inside pocket and took out one of the two pound notes.

  ‘But Dad…’ Steven protested.

  ‘It’ll be company for ye, and you always liked to have our Bess beside ye when ye were at home.’

  ‘Right, that’s a deal,’ Bill Kerr grinned, reaching for the proffered note. ‘I’ll keep it until you move in, Steven Caraford. Mistress McGuire will tell you which is my place. Would you like a dog or a bitch?’

  ‘A dog, I think. I like a bitch but she might take a bit of watching with so many neighbours. I don’t want to spend my time rearing pups, at least not for a while.’

  ‘I’ve enjoyed our walk, Steven,’ Eddy Caraford said a wee while later. ‘I missed our chats when you went away. I’m sure you’ll make a go of things here. You were always a thinker as well as a hard worker.’

  ‘Thanks, Dad. I’m glad you came today.’

  They had taken longer than they expected and they were hungry by the time they arrived back at the house. Hannah had kindled a fire in the front room and the kettle was propped on the grate and singing merrily.

  ‘You’ll have to sit on the floor or on one of the windowsills,’ she said, bustling in with a basket of sandwiches and a bottle of milk and three white enamel mugs with blue rims.

  ‘What have you been up to when you didn’t want us near the kitchen, Mother?’ Steven asked with a grin.

  ‘You can peep in at the door but I don’t want you making foot prints when I’ve just scrubbed the floor. That dresser has come up a treat and it’s a grand sturdy table. I found two old chairs in the washhouse. Even the cooker looks nearly presentable since I took some steel wool to it. It’s not one o’ them you have to burn coke, is it Steven?’

  ‘It’s an Aga so I think it does need coke. Mrs McGuire said there’s a bit left in the wee shed next to the washhouse but I have to apply for a ration to order more. They had one at a farm where I helped with the harvest when I was in the army. They never go out so long as you remember to fill them up every night and morning.’

  ‘I’ll need to show you how to make broth, and a casserole with plenty of vegetables then. They would simmer nicely in the oven. I’ve measured the windows. I’ll see if I’ve spare curtains that would do until you get a wife, then she’ll likely make her own.’ She smiled at Steven and was surprised when the colour rose in his cheeks.

  ‘If ever I can afford to keep a wife,’ he muttered, then almost in the same breath he added. ‘I thought we might take the old brooder back with us while we have the van here. Mr Oliphant said his wife would make some new felt curtains for it.’

  ‘All right,’ Hannah said, eying him closely. Had mention of a wife brought the Oliphants to mind or was it coincidence? She knew he had continued to write to Megan since Sam’s death but she was at college now.

  ‘Sam’s ma is making me a rag rug for the kitchen.’

  ‘That’s kind of her, Steven. Chrissie Oliphant always treated you like a second son. She must miss Sam terribly. Has Megan been helping her?’

  ‘I think so, when she’s at home from college anyway.’

  ‘I ordered fifty day old chicks for you when I ordered ours. They were a wee bit cheaper to order them altogether - fourteen pounds, two and sixpence a hundred. You’ll need the brooder if you want to rear them here. I expect you’ll want some eggs to sell to bring in some ready cash?’

  ‘Oh yes, I shall certainly keep some poultry. I’ll keep anything if it will earn me a penny or two. I might even consider a hive of bees in the orchard, so long as the Mc Guires don’t object.’

  ‘I got two grey blankets for you, from Binns’s sale, and a pair o’ cotton pillow cases.’

  ‘How much were they?’

  ‘The blankets were eight shillings and eleven pence. They’re not so nice as the white ones but they were a bargain. It will be cold living here on your own. You’ll need plenty of bedding.’

  ‘Thanks Mother. I’ll pay you when I’ve been to the bank. I shall need to set up an account with a cheque book.’

  ‘Och Steven, we don’t want money for the blankets, or the chicks. You’ll have enough to buy. I’ve been gathering a few things together while you’v
e been in Palestine; towels and a few pots and pans. We’ll move them all down as soon as you get word you can move in.’

  ‘I can’t take them all for nothing…’

  ‘Eh, laddie, your mother enjoys helping you get things together. We both want to see you settled and happy. I’ll have a talk to Fred. I reckon we can spare a couple of cows to get you going.’ Steven looked at his father in surprise.

  ‘I… er I don’t want to cause any more trouble with Fred.’

  ‘You deserve all the help I can give ye laddie. Fred should understand that. He’s been easier to get along with now Mr Griffiths has agreed to make him a joint tenant. He would have liked it all in his name but the agent told him he’d need to make some improvements and prove himself a worthy tenant first.’

  Nine

  The daylight was fading and it was milking time when they returned to Willowburn.

  ‘I would help you with the milking, Mother, but I don’t think Fred wants me near the farm,’ Steven said.

  ‘I know, laddie. Sometimes he tells me not to poke my nose in when I criticise; he and Edna are so untidy and careless I can’t help it occasionally. You can collect the eggs and feed the hens for me if you like. Then you should get away to the Oliphants with the brooder.”

  ‘All right,’ Steven agreed readily. He whistled cheerily as he fed the hens and put the water towers inside to protect them from the frost. He hoped he would manage things as well as his mother. She always had some eggs, even in winter, when it was natural for hens to stop laying. He remembered how difficult it was to teach the pullets to go into their huts at night. Instinct didn’t seem to tell them they needed protection from the foxes. When he was little they had all helped shoo them inside, even Fred. He wondered how he would manage them on his own. There were always some wanting to roost in trees or on rafters in the barn. Usually they ended up having their feathers clipped so they couldn’t fly so high. Bess, the collie dog, had been almost as good at rounding up the hens and the ducks as she was at herding the sheep. He smiled when he remembered how ready his father had been to buy the pup for him. He hoped he would be able to train it. He was well aware of all the work which lay ahead, especially for a man on his own but he couldn’t afford to employ a boy until he had a steady income.

  He was smiling when he drove into the yard and knocked on the door of the Oliphant’s house. As he had hoped, it was Megan who answered.

  ‘Steven! I-I didn’t expect to see you.’ She seemed flustered.

  ‘Aren’t you going to ask me in?’

  ‘W-well y-yes, but Dad and Mum are at the milking.’

  ‘Yes, I thought they would be. It was you I came to see, to tell you about Schoirhead. I’ve been back there today with mother and father. I’ve signed the agreement and posted it off so there’s no going back.’ He grinned as he followed her along the passage and once into the kitchen he seized her round the waist and hugged her exuberantly – just as he had done when they were young. ‘I feel as though I’m setting out on an adventure, Meggie.’

  She smiled and shook her head at him. He reminded her of the carefree schoolboy he used to be. Does he still think of me as the twelve year old I was when he went away, she wondered, but she was glad he had come.

  ‘Have you been to see Natalie?’ she asked before she could stop herself.

  ‘Natalie? Should I need to see her?’ He pulled a face. ‘She went with us yesterday. She thinks the house is a dump. Apparently Mrs McGuire overheard her, or so she told mother. She was not impressed.’ He chuckled. ‘There’s a high wall between the houses. It might stop the McGuires looking but it doesn’t stop Ma McGuire listening.’

  ‘I expect she’s bound to be curious about her new neighbours,’ Megan smiled. She looked up at him.

  ‘You’re still very pale, Megan. Are you feeling any better?’

  ‘Yes, I’m improving. I must get back to college for Monday. I can’t afford to miss any more lectures. As it is I shall need to catch up.’ She knew she was chattering. She felt a mess in her old skirt and woollen jumper. She hadn’t even bothered to braid her hair today. She pushed it back from her shoulders irritably.

  ‘Don’t do that, Megan,’ Steven said softly. ‘I like your hair loose and soft around your face.’ He reached out and stroked the red-gold tresses gently. ‘You have lovely hair but I hardly ever see it like this.’

  ‘It feels a mess. It’s needing washed.’

  ‘It’s not a mess at all.’ Steven smoothed her hair down each side of her face, then he leaned down and kissed first one cheek and then the other. Megan blushed prettily and he laughed and let her go, but she wished he had kissed her lips. She wondered how many girls he had kissed when he had been in the army. They had shared so many confidences in their letters but Steven had never mentioned any special girlfriends. She ached for him.

  They sat side by side in front of the fire and she plied him with questions about the small holding and he told her his plans and about his father giving him Daisy and buying him a collie pup and the offer of two Willowburn cows.

  ‘Oh how lovely, Steven. I’m sure your father loves you but it must be difficult for him living and working with Fred. He was never very pleasant to Sam and you, was he?’

  ‘No, I expect it’s his nature.’

  ‘I hope I get to see the wee dog next time I’m home. You will tell me all about him when you write, won’t you? Will you still have time to write?’ she asked wistfully.

  ‘Of course I shall, and I hope you’ll have time to reply.’

  They were still talking when John and Chrissie came in from the milking, looking cold and hungry.

  ‘I’ve asked Steven to stay for supper, Mum, is that all right?’

  ‘Of course it is,’ Chrissie said warmly. ‘It’s a bitter night out there.

  ‘I’ve brought the old brooder,’ Steven said flushing. ‘Maybe that’s not so all right? Mr Oliphant said you might be able to make some new curtains?’

  ‘That’s fine, Steven. I repaired ours last year and I’ve plenty of the green felt left. John will help you lift it into the shed before you leave.’ Megan was lifting a meat and potato pie from the oven and Steven went to help her pass the dish of carrot and turnip and a bowl of Brussels sprouts with white sauce. Meat was still rationed, even on farms, but most places grew their own vegetables.

  ‘That’s a thing I shall have to do,’ he mused, ‘dig the garden and get some vegetables planted. I might need some advice.’

  ‘It’s a pity you’re away at college, Megan. She’s a grand lass in the garden.’ John Oliphant said.

  ‘I shall write and ask for instructions then, Megan,’ he grinned, enjoying the warm and friendly atmosphere.

  ***

  Steven had settled into his new home by mid February 1947. His mother fretted because things seemed stark and bare and the weather was bitterly cold. In December the government had nationalised the railways and the ports; the coal mines had followed in January. Adding to the misery of the food rationing, the dock workers had now gone on strike and troops had been brought in to distribute the meat supplies and prevent cargoes rotting in the ships. None of these things troubled Steven. He was thankful he was no longer in the army, especially when he read of the continuing troubles in the Middle East. He had all the essentials and he was too busy working to worry about the house. He was glad of the warmth of the cooker when he came indoors and it was easier than he had expected to keep it going day and night but the bill for the load of coke had seemed enormous.

  Hannah had been down twice with the van loaded with furniture and utensils. Steven was astonished to see Fred accompanying her the first time she came, apparently to assist with unloading the pieces of furniture. There was a huge wardrobe in the bedroom already, left there by the people who originally owned the farm, according to Mrs McGuire. Fred opened the doors wide but his demob suit and the few other clothes looked lost in its cavernous interior and his half brother was not interested in the rich red mahogany whi
ch gleamed with his mother’s polishing. Fred poked curiously into every room but he made no comment. Steven thought he was making sure he had not taken anything of value from Willowburn and he felt a wave of thankfulness that he wouldn’t have to cope with Fred’s moods every day.

  ‘I hope it makes him realise how lucky he is,’ his mother said. ‘He has a clean and comfortable home and not a thing to do. You’ll be sure to come up on Sundays for your dinner and bring your washing?’

  Steven wondered whether he would have the energy to cycle six miles there and six back again after loading and spreading manure all week, but he knew he would have to try. He had no telephone at Schoirhead but few people used one unless it was essential. His mother and Mrs McGuire seemed to be getting on well so they had exchanged numbers in case of an emergency. Steven smiled to himself, wondering how they thought he had survived in the army.

  On his second evening at Schoirhead he went down to the Kerr’s to collect his collie pup. They made him welcome and introduced him to their son, Jimmy, who was a year younger than himself.

  ‘How would you like to buy a second hand motorbike?’ he asked with a grin and Steven remembered he was a mechanic.

  ‘I’d like it fine but I’ve to count my pennies until I get some cows and some money coming in.’

  ‘It would be handy for you getting home and to the markets.’

  ‘Aye, it would, but the bus or my bike will have to do me for a while,’ Steven said ruefully. ‘Sorry mate.’

  ‘Shall I tell you if I come across another bargain?’ Jimmy asked.

  ‘Give me six months or so to see how things are going.’

  Steven was glad of the little dog’s company.

  ‘I have named him Shandy,’ he wrote in one of his letters to Megan. She seemed interested in everything he had to say about the farm and he wished she had been able to see it instead of Natalie. Her criticism still irritated him, especially when he looked around the empty rooms. At least the rug from the Oliphants had added a spot of cheerful comfort to the kitchen and his mother had displayed some plates and bowls on the Welsh dresser.