The Sun Will Shine Tomorrow

by Maureen Reynolds

  ‘Come away inside. I’ve got the dinner ready for you as I know you’ll be hungry.’

  Lily said she was starving and I apologised. ‘Lily hasn’t changed, Babs – she still loves her food.’

  Babs gave her a quick look-over. Standing in front of her, she said, ‘You’re so much taller since we last saw you, Lily. You’re all grown-up and about to go into the big wide world.’ She turned to me and I noticed her eyes were wary. ‘Ann, you haven’t changed much I have to say but you’re looking really well.’

  I smiled. That was two statements of how well I was looking so things must be improving, I thought. Was I getting over Greg?

  Lily and I had the same attic bedroom as before and we carried our suitcases up the narrow wooden staircase.

  Lily sat on the bed and sighed. ‘Oh, I love this room, Ann, with its sloping roof and window overlooking the hills.’

  ‘Don’t forget the owl!’ I warned and she laughed.

  I had to admit, it was a lovely little bedroom but I couldn’t forget that, on previous visits years ago, Babs had said it had been Greg’s room. His belongings were no longer there, however, and it could have belonged to anyone. All the character and soul had been removed along with him.

  The dinner was substantial as usual. Home-made soup, steak pie and apple crumble. I felt I would never be able to move again. We were lingering over a cup of tea, chatting about nothing in particular and I felt we were all skirting around any mention of Greg.

  Dave said that the hydroelectric company had begun to build dams and power stations over at Tummelbridge and Pitlochry. ‘The days of the oil lamps will soon be over. Then we’ll all have electric light.’

  I wasn’t quite sure if he was pleased about this new technology or sad.

  Babs asked me about the flat. I had mentioned it in my last letter.

  I was able to chat about this non-taboo subject. ‘We’ll need a bit more furniture and household items but we’re getting things slowly. I managed to get a sideboard and two fireside chairs. They’ve got the utility mark on them so they’re a bit plain although well made.’ Still, if Danny was to be believed, the day would soon come when everything was readily available and generously made.

  ‘And what about Maddie and Danny’s twins? How are they?’

  Before I could answer, Lily said, ‘Oh, they’re bonny babies. They’ve got three boys now and Rosie and Dad have Jay so that makes four boys. When Joy and I were born we were called the Sunday girls by Mrs Pringle. Ann and Maddie and Joy and I were all born on a Sunday so that’s how we got our name.’

  Babs smiled. ‘I know, I’ve heard that description before and now it’s four boys. Were they all born on a Sunday as well?’

  Lily had to think about this. ‘No, I don’t think so. So we’re still the Sunday girls, aren’t we, Ann?’

  I nodded and told Babs about Hattie and Graham and Chris and Kathleen and the sad saga of Sammy and Jean Martin. In fact, I felt I was babbling on and on like some gossipmonger but Babs didn’t seem to notice. She seemed glad to hear all our news.

  It was almost teatime when I ran out of subjects to talk about and I knew I couldn’t put it off any longer. Babs had asked about my family and I hadn’t even mentioned Greg.

  My mouth was dry and when I spoke I thought my voice sounded squeaky. ‘Greg. How is he Babs?’

  She looked a bit embarrassed but we both knew we couldn’t skirt around the subject of her son all night.

  ‘He’s fine, Ann. He’s working in a library in Oxford just now.’

  I was so taken aback. ‘Oxford … that’s great.’

  She nodded. ‘He went to London after Bletchley Park but, when this job came up, he applied for it and got it. He loves it.’

  I took a deep breath and felt my tongue stick to the roof of my mouth. ‘And his wife … does she like it there?’

  Babs looked surprised. ‘Oh, I thought you knew, Ann. He hasn’t got married yet – the wedding will take place in four months’ time.’

  It was now my turn to be surprised. ‘Oh, I thought he got married just after the war.’

  ‘No. The girl, Daisy, came from London and she lost her mother in one of the buzz bomb raids. That happened while they were at Bletchley Park and the wedding was postponed. Still, it’ll be in Oxford in four months’ time. Dave and I are going down for it.’

  I felt a blackness behind my eyes and I didn’t think I would be able to get through this weekend. Now that I’d heard Greg was still not married, I wondered if I would have been better prepared if he had indeed got married during the war or just after.

  Fortunately we all went for a walk after our substantial tea and the evening was almost over. There was just the next day to get through and then we’d be going home the following day – back home to cry my eyes out and nurse my grief in private. Why, oh, why had I agreed to come here in the first place? Babs was as embarrassed as I was and I should have made up some excuse ages ago.

  Later, in the glow of the lamplight, Dave and Lily played cards while I sat beside Babs as she knitted what looked like a huge brown jumper.

  ‘You managed to get away from the shop all right, Ann?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’ A happy thought appeared in spite of my glum feelings as I recalled Connie and Joe tackling the early-morning papers. I had helped out for a couple of hours in the morning but how had they coped with the evening papers? And what about tomorrow’s?

  ‘It’s nice to see you smile, Ann,’ said Babs.

  I felt myself blush – I hadn’t realised I had smiled. ‘I’m just thinking about Connie and Joe. They were snapping at one another this morning when I left and I was wondering how they’ll cope tomorrow. Connie likes everything done her own way but so does Joe. It’s a case of two bosses and no workers.’

  Babs laughed and I felt the tension disappear. Was I the only one feeling embarrassed? Dave and Lily were having a friendly argument over some of the cards and they didn’t look embarrassed. And Babs was bent over some intricate part of her knitting pattern. I was the only one who felt out of place. Almost as if I’d moved to outer space and found the natives so busy while I twiddled my thumbs and worried about events that were now past history.

  Then it was bedtime. Thank goodness, I thought. Now I could stop pretending to be cheery and fancy-free.

  Lily tucked herself up in the comfy bed and pulled the patchwork quilt up to her chin. ‘Dave’s taking me up the hill tomorrow. We’re bringing the sheep down to the pens.’ She was full of excitement at the thought of this hard work and outdoor air. ‘What will you do, Ann?’

  I was taken aback by her concern. ‘Och, I’ll help Babs in the kitchen and maybe go for a walk later. I’ve no firm plans.’

  Satisfied with this ambiguous answer, Lily fell asleep almost at once but I was far from sleep. I sat at the window and looked at the deeply-shadowed hill. Small white pockets of mist hugged the gullies and it promised to be another fine warm day tomorrow.

  Lily had wanted to know what I would do the next day. I didn’t know that and I wasn’t sure about the next week or the years ahead. I felt so alone and down. What did life hold in store for me? Especially once Lily left home. I could only see years of emptiness ahead of me. I tried hard to snap out of this feeling of self-pity. I was a reasonably young and healthy woman with my own flat. Thousands of people would envy me so why was I moping?

  I went over to my suitcase and rummaged down the side, finally bringing out the small leather box that held my engagement ring. I had kept it after Greg had broken off the engagement but I knew I had to return it. That was why I had brought it with me. I would give it to Babs before leaving and she could do what she liked with it. Either give it back to Greg or throw it away. Either way, I didn’t care, did I?

  I didn’t sleep very well. My mind was full of jumbled up dreams that were disturbing. I was glad when the sun rose and I was able to get up.

  The kitchen was very quiet and empty when I went downstairs. I looked around for a suit
able place to leave the ring and had just made up my mind that the small space between the plates on the dresser was the best place. I had the box in my hand when suddenly I heard Babs coming down the stairs. In a panic I shoved the box in my skirt pocket.

  She said, ‘You’re up early, Ann. Let me put the kettle on and we’ll have a quiet cup of tea before the other two come downstairs.’

  I dreaded having a quiet tête-à-tête with her, much as I liked her. Then, to my relief, Dave came bounding into the kitchen, followed by Lily.

  ‘I thought I’d take Ann and Lily for a wee run before gathering the sheep, Babs – let them see the new hydro scheme.’

  Babs nodded as she placed a mound of bacon into the frying pan. I hadn’t seen so much food for years. Later, after breakfast, Dave drew up with his little van and we piled in. He drove along the twisty road that wound through the glen towards Tummelbridge.

  ‘The hydroelectric scheme will harness all this water,’ he said, as we passed a large stream of tumbling water. ‘There’s a lot less water there because of the dry spell but, when it’s in spate, the water will turn the turbines and all the rivers, lochs and streams will be controlled with dams until it’s needed. It’s a big undertaking and there are camps for hundreds of workers.’

  I glanced out of the window but all was peaceful – just moors, streams and hills. It was a stark contrast to Dundee with its noisiness and bustle.

  We drove into Tummelbridge and Dave pointed out the workers’ huts although we didn’t see many men.

  Dave said, ‘It’s a Sunday so the men will be having a lie in or maybe some have gone home for the weekend. They certainly work hard digging through all this rock.’

  Lily and I gazed at the big boulders at the side of the road and we didn’t doubt a word of it.

  He then turned the van around and we headed back to the farmhouse.

  Babs laughed when we arrived back. ‘He’s like a big kid with that van! He’s always running around in it but just up the road and back as usual.’

  In the afternoon, Lily and Dave and Paddy the dog set off up the hill to gather the sheep. I watched their retreating figures walk slowly up the grassy slopes. I was wondering how to spend my afternoon. Hopefully it wouldn’t be chatting to Babs as I was frightened she would ask me how I felt about Greg’s forthcoming wedding and I didn’t want to break down in front of her.

  She was putting the kettle on when a voice called out in the yard.

  ‘Oh, it’s my neighbour, Ann. She sometimes comes in for a gossip on a Sunday afternoon but I’ll cut her visit short.’

  This was my escape. ‘Oh, no, Babs! I’ll go for a walk and leave you to have a chat with your neighbour.’

  She looked dubious but I insisted. I stayed long enough to be introduced to her friend. When I saw the gleam of interest in the woman’s eye when she realised I was Greg’s ex-fiancée I knew I had made the right decision to escape.

  I set off up the hill, taking the same path as Dave and Lily. The sun felt hot on my head and it was pleasant to be alone with the smell of the grass and earth. I was still climbing when I heard the voices. It was Lily and Dave and they were surrounded by sheep. I waved at them and continued upwards.

  After a while I sat down and looked at my bird’s-nest view of the valley below. I decided to climb a bit higher and slowly trudged through the rough grass and brown heather. Heather that Dave said would spring into purple splendour in a few weeks’ time.

  By now the valley had disappeared and I was surrounded by hills. It was so peaceful. I lay down on the warm grass, planning to have forty winks before setting off back down. With hindsight, I can only think it was because of my sleepless night that I fell fast asleep with the warm sun on my face and the smells of the countryside as a soothing balm. A bird called sharply in the distance but I barely heard it.

  It was the coolness that woke me up. Thick mist like a wet grey blanket was wrapped around me and I sat up in a panic. For a few moments, I couldn’t think where I was then my memory clicked in place and I remembered my walk in the warm sunshine. But where was the sun? I could hardly see a thing in front of me, so thick was the mist. I felt its wetness and my breath exhaled into this fog. And it was cold. I was wearing a thin blouse and cotton skirt. My legs were bare and my feet were thrust into sandals. I was hardly dressed for being stranded on the hills in this thick fog.

  I got to my feet and rushed off in the direction I thought was the right one but then I stopped. Maybe I should be heading in the opposite direction? As I stumbled along with only the mist for company, a large shape loomed out of the fog and I almost had a heart attack. Thankfully it was only a large stone but this was a puzzle in itself. I hadn’t passed a large stone like this on my upward journey.

  I set off in a different direction but because of the limited view I was hampered. In fact, I had stumbled about the hill so much that I was now totally disorientated. Reaching the stone again, I sat down to try and get my bearings. I felt the coldness of the rock through my thin blouse. I listened hard, hoping to hear Lily and Dave’s voices but it all was quiet. It was like being in a grey bottomless void.

  I knew the Borlands would be worried about me and Lily would be frantic so I decided to choose a path. But which way? I seemed to be on some sort of plateau as I didn’t feel I was either climbing or descending. What I had to do was to get on a downward path and I would surely come out at the farmhouse – or at least not too far from it.

  Taking confident strides, I set off. Then the mist parted slightly and I could make out a patch of green grass in front of me. The mist was going to rise and I had nothing to worry about. Once I had my bearings I would be fine.

  I was walking across the dewy grass when a dark shadow seemed to stretch out before me. I took another step forward and then suddenly stopped. I wasn’t thinking about Ma Ryan but her voice came into my head. I heard her warning as clear as if she was on the hill with me. ‘Watch your step. You’re in danger. Watch your step.’

  Almost crying with fear, I sat down and tried to slither backwards to the large stone. It seemed to take forever and I wasn’t even sure if I was going in the right direction. ‘Watch your step. You’re in danger. Watch your step.’ Her voice seemed to drill into my brain.

  After what seemed like hours, I felt the stone with my hands and I huddled against it. My face and clothes were soaking and I realised I was crying – crying for my stupidity at climbing so far, crying for my lost life and, most of all, crying for Greg who was going to be married in four month’s time.

  I put my hand in my pocket to get my hankie and my fingers closed round the small leather box. In my anguish I threw it into the grey mist where it must have landed on the wet grass because it made no sound.

  I immediately felt ashamed and scrambled to my feet to look for it. Feeling my way over the soggy ground, I dropped down on my knees and searched the ground, my hands outstretched, but it was a futile task. I got to my feet again and moved further away, kicking at the patches of scrubby heather and moss.

  Suddenly Ma’s voice seemed to scream at me. ‘Watch your step. You’re in danger. Watch your step.’

  Frightened, I scrambled back to the stone. It was the only place I felt safe. I don’t know how long I was there. It was an endless time and the mist never rose. It was as if I was cocooned in a grey silent shell.

  I must have dozed off and, at one point, I thought I heard voices. I called out hoarsely but no one came and I realised I must have dreamt it. It crossed my mind that I could maybe die on this hill and I would never see Granny or Lily or Maddie and Danny ever again – or Rosie, Dad and Jay. This started a fresh feeling of panic and I thought about getting down from the hill again. I think, if it hadn’t been for Ma’s warning, I would have made the effort and taken the risk.

  The cold air was making me sleepy and I thought this was a blessing – just to lie down and let sleep take over. My mind was full of jumbled-up images – most of them about Greg. If only things had turned ou
t differently …

  I slept. I had a dream that voices were calling out loudly. I tried to answer them but I couldn’t make a sound. It was as if I was struck dumb. The voices came again and this time I struggled to be awake. The mist was still as thick but the voices sounded louder.

  ‘Ann … Ann … Ann …’

  I tried to call out, ‘I’m over here – by the stone.’

  For a moment, I thought the voices were receding and I tried to shout as loud as I could, ‘Over here by the stone.’

  There was no answer. Nobody had heard me and I felt as if I was doomed to lie there forever. I tried to stand up but I couldn’t. My legs felt like lead and my feet were so cold. I had lost my sandals and could only imagine it was because of the scrambling over the rough heather in my search for the ring.

  Then the voices came again. ‘Ann … Ann … Can you hear us? Ann … Ann.’

  ‘I’m here,’ I called out but realised I was only whispering.

  Then I saw the dark shape in the mist and my throat constricted with fear. To my relief, I saw it was a human figure but I didn’t recognise the man who stood a few feet away from me.

  I called out, ‘I’m over here by the stone.’

  The stranger called out to someone further down the hill and I heard muffled shouts. The man knelt down beside me and took off his thick jacket. He placed this around my shoulders and I realised I was shivering.

  Then I saw Dave Borland appearing through the mist, followed by half a dozen men. I was quickly helped to my feet and thick blankets were placed around me. One of the men, a six-foot burly giant of a man picked me up and carried me slowly down the hill.

  I was aware that I was babbling. ‘I was frightened about the danger. I had to watch my step.’

  Dave said soothingly, ‘You’ll be fine in a wee while, Ann. We’ve been searching all last night for you and again this morning. We almost gave up searching here because it’s a few miles away from where we last saw you.’

  The tall giant said in a lilting Irish voice, ‘At least it wasn’t cold last night so the lass won’t have hypothermia.’