One Sunday afternoon towards the end of May, Steven was surprised when his father beckoned him closer while his mother was upstairs changing her dress. His father’s speech was still slow but it was reasonably clear so long as he didn’t get angry or excited, but sometimes he couldn’t remember the words he wanted to use. Fred had no patience to listen or to help so the two rarely held a conversation but Steven knew how much his father looked forward to hearing what was going on at Schoirhead and the other smallholdings. He was surprised to find it was not farming his father had in mind on this particular occasion.
‘Ask Mr Kane to come to see me here,’ Eddy Caraford enunciated the words carefully. ‘Friday afternoon.’
‘The solicitor?’ Steven was surprised, but his father nodded emphatically. ‘But Mother takes her eggs to Annan on Fridays. She’ll not…’
‘I know.’ Eddy Caraford nodded again. ‘I want to… to make things right - and tight - for her.’
‘I see.’ Steven frowned and chewed his lower lip. His father watched him then patted his knee.
‘Hannah always one o’ the best. Ask him…to come.’
‘All right, if you’re sure.’
‘I am. Plenty time now…to watch, see things…’
‘I’ll telephone on Monday then and make an appointment for Mr Kane to call to see you here next Friday afternoon.’ Stephen repeated the arrangement carefully and watched his father nod with satisfaction.
The subject was never mentioned again so Steven had no idea what had transpired. He felt it was none of his business and it went out of his mind. In truth he had plenty of problems of his own. He was careful what he told the McGuires; he didn’t want Annie passing on his problems to his mother but he longed to have someone with whom he could safely share his concerns.
***
Megan went back to college with a heavy heart after Easter but in the middle of her second week she had a letter from Steven and her spirits rose. True, it was shorter than usual and not in his habitual chatty style. He kept away from personal topics, except to hope she was well. She had to restrain herself from replying the same day but by the end of the week Steven had the reply he had been hoping for.
He heaved a sigh of relief. Whatever friends Megan had made since she went to college there was no one yet who prevented her from writing to him as an old friend.
Megan was not too happy when she received Steven’s next letter.
‘I have had some good luck and some bad. Ella farrowed twelve piglets and she is proving an excellent mother, calm and contented with plenty of milk so they are all , thriving I have not needed a box by the Aga to nurse a wreckling as we feared. I have chosen two already which I hope to keep as gilts if all goes well with them, so you can give them names when you come home for the summer.’
Megan’s heart soared. Clearly Steven was expecting her to go down to Schoirhead again. She frowned as she read on.
‘I have not had the same success with one of the cows I bought. A few days ago when I had finished the morning milking I noticed a tiny foetus lying in the channel behind her. She had aborted. I would not have noticed if she had been out in the fields. I hope it was a natural occurrence but I fear it is more likely that my father was right and that it is contagious abortion following on from the trouble I had with Fred’s heifers. I don’t need to tell you the anxiety that causes me, but I scarcely know what to do. I need more cows, not to sell the ones I have.
I hear they are queuing for potatoes in London. I considered growing a few acres here as they would be a good crop and increase the fertility of the soil with all the manure I inherited from the previous tenant, but it would be impossible to gather them myself and I’m not sure where I could hire a squad or even whether I could afford to pay a gang of pickers. I may make more enquiries for next year. None of the other smallholders grow potatoes, except for their own use, but they all have at least a couple more cows than I have. Until I am sure mine are not infected with contagious abortion I am reluctant to spend any money on buying more in.
I am sorry if you are bored with this account of my failures, but I appreciate our long friendship more than I can say.
Ever your sincere friend,
Steven.
P. S. I had a surprise visit from Natalie. This is the third time she has called on her way home from her work in Carlisle. Twice I was working in the fields. Mrs McGuire refused to tell her where I was. She has not taken to Natalie since she overheard her calling Schoirhead a dump. I am invited to dinner with her parents next Tuesday evening at Martinwold. I can’t imagine why they should invite me. I am not looking forward to it, but the food should be good! If it is not too late when I leave I shall try to call on your parents.’
‘Oh no!’ Megan groaned aloud. ‘Natalie means to get him. If only I was finished at college,’ she wailed to Pauline, who was still her closest friend, in spite of the unfortunate episode with Derek. Apparently he had been transferred to another branch of the bank some distance away. Whether the transfer was automatic or whether he had applied for it Megan didn’t ask but she was relieved to know he would not be calling at the college unexpectedly.
‘It’s not so very long until the summer vacation,’ Pauline comforted. ‘I’ve got a job in a café so I can’t say I’m looking forward to all those weeks sweltering over teas and coffees. I need to earn some money though so it has to be done.’
‘Yes, I suppose I’m lucky being able to work for my parents,’ Megan said absently, her mind still on the Turners and their predatory daughter.
***
Steven discovered the invitation had been instigated by Mr Turner himself but Natalie had insisted on delivering it in person. Mrs Turner was an excellent cook and, judging by the three course meal she served, they didn’t seem greatly affected by rationing. Steven discovered they still had a live-in maid to help in the house. She came in to clear away the dishes but Mrs Turner beckoned Natalie to help her with the coffee and Steven guessed Mr Turner wished to speak to him alone.
‘I feel I should keep an eye on your progress, Steven,’ he began and Steven felt himself stiffen at his patronising manner. ‘Natalie shows a lot of interest in your wee holding, and I did give you the reference to help you get your first tenancy.’ Steven squashed his irritation with an effort and answered his questions civilly. He didn’t mention his anxieties about the possibility of his cattle being affected by contagious abortion, or his anxiety concerning his father and Willowburn but he was not surprised to learn Murdoch Turner kept his own ear to the ground even on such matters
‘I believe your neighbour is elderly and infirm?’
‘Mr McGuire? I wouldn’t say he’s so old but he is crippled with arthritis.’
‘He has difficulty getting his own work done though? He’ll not be fit to help you with haymaking then?’
‘I wouldn’t expect him to help me.’ Steven frowned, wondering where this was leading.
‘But you will need help. It’s important to get good hay and to be ready for the weather, if and when it comes.’
‘Yes, I know that.’ Steven had wondered about the hay and harvest and he hoped Jimmy Kerr might lend a hand but he was only available at weekends and in the evenings. Although the change in the clocks meant it was light almost until midnight in midsummer it didn’t prevent the dew falling. His father had always warned against building damp hay into the stacks.
‘Take my advice,’ Mr Turner went on. ‘Make enquiries about getting a POW to help.’
‘A prisoner of war?’
‘Yes. You’ll have to pay for the hours they work but the camp attendants drop them off at your farm in the morning and collect them at five o’clock. Some of them are good workers. I’ve had one or two myself.’
‘Thank you, I’ll think about that. I imagine they’ll all be going home soon.’ He might mention the idea to the McGuires though.
‘There’s another thing…’ Mr Turner broke into his thoughts. He sounded a little less assured now. ‘I w
as at a meeting a week ago. I ran into Mr Griffiths. You’ll know he’s the agent for the estate?’
‘Yes of course. He’s the agent for Willowburn.’
‘I understand he’s not happy with the way your brother is running the farm since your father had his stroke.’
‘I’m not happy myself but it’s not my business so I keep quiet,’ Steven said stiffly. He was beginning to wish he’d never come. ‘If I criticised it would only make things unpleasant for my parents.’
‘That’s more or less what I said to Griffiths.’ Steven stared at him, his eyebrows raised in question. Willowburn had nothing to do with Mr Turner – not unless he was on one of the committees which inspected the farms to see if they were producing as much as they should. Mr Turner met his gaze.
‘You’re right, it’s none of my business, except that I wish you well Steven. Griffiths was wondering whether your father was likely to get well enough to manage the farm again?’
‘That’s not very likely,’ Steven frowned. ‘He has made good progress but not to that extent.’
‘That’s what he’d heard. He asked whether there was any chance of you retuning to Willowburn to take his place.’
‘Why does he expect you to know that? Why doesn’t he come and ask me himself?’
‘Don’t get angry, laddie. He knows I gave you a reference for the smallholding.’
Oh yes, Steven thought angrily, you’ll have told half the county no doubt.
‘So Griffiths knows I’m taking an interest in you.’
Steven stared at him, then he gave a hollow laugh. ‘I’d never have left Willowburn in the first place if Fred and I could have worked together.’
Mr Turner nodded. ‘I just thought I’d mention it. Griffiths will not let things go on as they are indefinitely. It puts his own job on the line if he doesn’t see the farms are kept up to standard.’ There was a warning note in his voice but before either of them could say anymore Natalie put her head round the door.
‘Are you two going to sit at the table all night? The coffee is getting cold. Do hurry up and come through to the lounge, Daddy.’
‘We’re coming now sweetheart,’ he replied genially and stood up, indicating Steven should precede him.
Afterwards Steven wished Natalie had not interrupted at that moment. Would Mr Turner have confided more of the agent’s intentions? He would always wonder whether it would have made a difference if he had warned his father, or if he had dared to tell Fred he needed to pull up his socks and get on with farming instead of playing around with Edna.
Unknown to him, or his parents, Griffiths had already spoken to Fred, who had treated his warning with arrogant nonchalance.
***
At the beginning of the summer holidays Megan was over the moon when she got her driving licence.
‘You’ll remember petrol is still rationed won’t you lassie. You’d better not plan too many visits to Steven’s place.’
‘Oh Dad, I was not planning any,’ Megan said blushing because that had been her main aim in getting her driving licence. She went off to bring in the cows for milking and Chrissie turned to her husband.
‘You shouldn’t encourage her to visit Steven, John. She might think you would approve of them getting serious.’
‘So I would. I can’t think of any lad I’d rather have for a son-in-law than Steven and they’ve always been good friends. I thought you liked him?’
‘I do. He’s a lovely lad.’ Chrissie sighed heavily. ‘But Megan has another year to do at college and then a year’s teaching practice before she can call herself a qualified teacher. I don’t want to see her throw away a good career to spend her life milking cows and looking after animals and having to scrape together every halfpenny before she can afford a new blouse. You said yourself Steven wouldn’t be able to afford to keep a wife for years yet.’
‘It was Steven who said that, I think. Anyway it depends on the wife. If it was someone like Natalie Turner I don’t think any ordinary farmer could afford to marry her. Megan’s different altogether. You can tell she loves him and she’d do anything to help him.’
‘I know that, John,’ Chrissie sighed, ‘but I do want her to finish her training at least. She would always have that to fall back on if things went wrong.’
‘I’m was not suggesting they should get married next week, or even next year,’ John Oliphant defended himself, ‘but money isn’t everything. We’ve worked hard all our lives but we’ve been together, working side by side and we’ve always looked after each other. I wouldn’t swap that for the richest wife in the country.’
‘Oh John,’ Chrissie blushed and her eyes were bright. ‘That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said.’
‘Is it? Then maybe I should be taking a leaf out of Steven’s book and practise my poetic skills, eh lass?’ he grinned almost boyishly. ‘Seriously Chrissie I’ve never fancied anybody else but you, love. Do you regret getting married so young?’
‘Of course not.’ Chrissie’s heart still beat faster at the look in her husband’s eyes and she went readily into his embrace when he opened his arms. ‘No,’ she whispered, ‘I’ve never regretted marrying you, John.’
Megan decided to pay Steven a surprise visit one evening to show him she had passed her driving test. When she arrived he had been haymaking and he was later than usual starting to milk his cows.
‘How did you get here on your own?’ he asked in surprise, his eyes lighting up in welcome.
‘I came to show you I’ve passed my driving test,’ she grinned. ‘Now Dad says I can come anytime so long as I don’t use all his petrol ration.’
‘I wish I’d known, although I suppose I’d still have been working late tonight. I took Mr Turner’s advice and applied for a prisoner of war to help. The McGuires have got one too.’
‘Are they good workers?’
‘Yes, not bad. My man is called Johan. He’s little more than a boy to look at him but he’s strong and he’s enthusiastic.’
‘Was he from a farm in Germany?
‘No, but he’s eager to learn. He had been brought up in the country. He says he didn’t want to fight in the war.’
‘The same as you and Sam then,’ Megan said wistfully. ‘There must have been thousands of men and boys who felt the same on both sides.’
‘Aye, I reckon so. The McGuire’s man is called Otto. He’s an older man with dull sad eyes. He makes me sad to look at him,’ Steven added ruefully. ‘Johan doesn’t speak very good English yet but I gathered that Otto is missing his wife and his three wee boys – at least they were still schoolboys when he last saw them. He doesn’t know whether they are alive or dead and its two years since the war ended.’
‘That must be awful,’ Megan said with sympathy. ‘At least we know what happened to Sam, and we know he had you beside him, even though he did die in a foreign country.’
‘Yes, I shall always be glad I was at his side. He knew he was not alone.’ Steven nodded. ‘But I know what you mean, it must be awful not to know whether your family are alive or dead or what has happened to them.’
‘Can’t the Red Cross people help? Or some other organisation?’
‘I think they’re trying. The prisoners have to return to camp when the lorry comes for them at five o’clock,’ he explained, ‘so we worked at the hay as long as we could to make the most of their help. Then I finished unloading the two carts myself. Mr McGuire was building the stack but he’s finding it hard going. We’re all working together to get my hay in and then his. I did the mowing for him too. He could never have managed it himself with his arthritis as bad as it is.’
‘You’re very good, Steven,’ Megan said.
‘Oh they do a lot for me,’ he grinned. ‘Mrs McGuire is making dinner for all of us while we have the two men here and even when I’m on my own she often sends a meal round for me when she’s been cooking or baking. Shandy keeps in with her too.’ He grinned. The collie pricked up his velvety ears at the sound of his name and Meg
an crouched down to pat him affectionately.
‘Their own dog died before I moved here so Mrs M sometimes gives him a bone when she’s been making broth.’
‘You’ve been lucky to get such friendly neighbours Steven. If you’ve got a spare stool I’ll help you with the milking,’ Megan offered.
‘With my huge herd of four cows,’ Steven grimaced wryly and shook his head. ‘I’d rather you stay there and talk to me. You look so fresh and clean.’ Megan blushed slightly for there was no mistaking the admiration in his sparkling blue eyes. ‘Anyway you’ve done your stint at milking already today, Megan. How many cows has you father at Martinwold now?
‘We have fifty five milking and ten more waiting to calve.’
‘Whew! I’ve a long way to go,’ Steven groaned.
‘We couldn’t milk so many if we didn’t have the milking machines.’
‘No, I suppose not. Tell me all the news while I get on with these. How do you like being home from college? I expect its hard working in the byre after being away studying?’
‘I enjoy it, especially getting the cows in early in the mornings. The scent of the honeysuckle in the hedgerows is heavenly and you know I always liked being out in the fresh air. I suppose that’s why I enjoy gardening. I do hope I get a teaching post in a country school. It would be even better if I could get one near home.’
Coming Home Page 17
