A Maxwell Mourned (10 page)

As he drew nearer he was dismayed to see the cows had not yet been turned back into the fields after milking. It was a fine May evening and the milk yields always increased when the cows ate the fresh spring grass. The milking should have been finished hours ago.

There was so much hustle and bustle in the house that no one seemed to notice he had returned. Then he saw Mrs Semple, the midwife, hurrying up the stairs with a white enamel bowl in her hands. His heart hammered against his ribs. The baby was not due for another three or four weeks. He dumped his bag and hurried upstairs but Alice met him at the top, her face pale.

‘What’s going on?’ he demanded urgently. ‘Rachel …?’

‘Mrs Semple is with her.’ Alice’s voice was low and strained. ‘Rachel slipped in the dairy while she was reaching up to empty a pail of milk into the D pan above the cooler.’

‘But Alfie always does that for her …’

‘I know, I know …He had been delayed. I suppose Rachel felt she could manage.’ Alice passed a harassed hand across her brow.

‘Are you all right?’ Ross asked, frowning.

‘Fine, just tired,’

‘I’m longing for a drink of tea,’ Ross lied. ‘Will you have one with me?’

‘In a minute,’ Alice nodded wearily.

‘I’ll make it then. I don’t suppose that dragon of a midwife will allow me in to see my wife first?’

‘No. I-I’m afraid the baby is coming. If anyone can save it Mrs Semple will, but she has sent for Doctor MacEwan to come and she doesn’t usually want any men around when she is attending a birth.’

‘I see …’ Ross knew his face had paled. Please God let Rachel be all right, he prayed silently. His first thoughts were always for Rachel.

Two hours later the long shadows of the May evening crept over the landscape. The cows had been milked and were grazing peacefully in the pastures, birds sang their final evening chorus as they settled down for the night. Suddenly a puny cry came from the bedroom. Ross and Alice stared at each other. The thin wail continued. Ross felt he had waited an interminable time. Alice sank onto the window seat to wait but he paced back and forth restlessly and almost collided with Mrs Semple when she appeared at the bedroom door.

‘Ah, Mr Maxwell … The bairn is alive, but frail. A wee lassie. I am expecting Doctor MacEwan.’

‘Rachel? My wife …?’

‘Exhausted. She – she’s a wee bit emotional. Only to be expected in the circumstances. I …I suggest you might want to have the wee one christened? Without delay …’

‘Oh, Mistress Semple!’ Alice hurried to her side. ‘Is she …? Is she so weak?’

‘She’s a mite early and none too robust – but she gave her wee lungs a good exercising. I reckon she’s a fighter, like her mother. I’d just feel happier if ….Ah,’ she gave a sigh of relief as they all heard the honking and spluttering of the doctor’s car. He was the worst driver in the village. Everyone knew when he was approaching but tonight the noise was a welcome sound.

Half an hour later he assured Mrs Semple she had done all she could for mother and child.

‘The rest is in the hands of God, but I will look in again tomorrow. The wee mite has come into a restless world, and no mistake. The strike is to start at midnight tonight – the first General Strike in British history.’ He shook his head bewilderedly. ‘And yet I canna blame some o’ the men.’

The new baby was christened Bridget Mhairi the following day, the third of May 1926. Although small and a slow feeder, Rachel coaxed her daughter with tender patience. As each day passed she held tenaciously to life. By the time the General Strike had been called off nine days later, Doctor MacEwan felt she had a good chance of survival.

Although Bridie Maxwell remained dainty as the months passed she grew in strength and stamina and her happy nature and wide eyed interest more than made up for her lack of size.

Chapter Eleven

R
ACHEL LOOKED FORWARD TO
Meg’s weekly letters but at the end of July there were two unexpected items of news.

‘Willie and Ruth are planning to move to England,’ she read aloud. ‘They have given notice to the Laird. Their tenancy at Windlebrae ends at the November term.’

‘Giving up the tenancy?’ Ross was so startled he held his spoonful of porridge poised in mid-air.

‘They intend to rent a farm in Yorkshire or Lincolnshire. Ruth’s father thinks there will be better opportunities for Willie and his family. Apparently the landlords are welcoming Scottish tenants who are willing to keep cattle, especially dairy cows. They are more able to pay their rents.’

‘Well good for Willie,’ Ross’s slow smile crinkled his blue eyes. ‘but I’m more than happy where I am – so long as the Factor leaves us in peace.’

‘Mmm … me too,’ Rachel nodded, turning back to her letter. ‘Oh dear, Meg has been looking after Sam Dewar.’ She looked up from the closely written pages. ‘He’s the cobbler who lives next door,’ she explained for Alice Beattie’s benefit. Her eyes clouded. ‘He has been very ill. He was such a shy, kind man,’ she sighed. ‘Conan adored him. He made his first tiny shoes.’

‘Is he recovering?’ Alice asked. She always took an interest in family news, possibly because she had none of her own.

‘The doctor wanted Sam to go away to convalesce to keep him away from his clogger’s bench for a while. Meg says he refuses to go amongst strangers. It is awful for him being so alone when he is ill.’

‘Yes,’ Alice agreed softly. She could have been like the old cobbler if it had not been for Ross and Rachel. She looked upon them as her family now. She could see how much it troubled Rachel to think of the old man staying alone.

‘You could invite Mr Dewar to stay here for a short holiday,’ she suggested. ‘It may not be the quiet retreat the doctor had in mind but it would be a change for him.’

‘How kind you are!’ Rachel beamed. ‘I wonder if he would be able to travel? I would love to see him again. It is generous of you to offer.’

Rachel was dismayed to see how Sam Dewar had aged when she met him at the station with Alice’s car. He was thin and stooped and his grey hair was almost none existent now. At first Conan was too shy to talk and Sam seemed exhausted as he sat hunched in the front seat beside Rachel.

‘I never thought I would ride in a motor car,’ He said at length.

‘I never thought I would learn to drive one,’ Rachel chuckled. ‘I was terrified at first.’

‘You drive very competently, doesn’t she Mr Dewar?’ Alice approved.

‘She does.’ He sighed contentedly. ‘I never thought I would see you again, lassie, or visit such a lovely part of the country.’

‘Just you wait until you see The Glens of Lochandee,’ Rachel told him. ‘You will understand why Ross felt so at home here, and why Mistress Beattie loves it so much.’

‘And you, lassie? Do you feel you belong now?’ Sam asked wistfully. He had forgotten Alice’s presence in the back of the car and she waited tensely for Rachel’s reply. It was clear to her, even on such short acquaintance that Sam Dewar had a warm affection for Rachel and that it was reciprocated.

‘For me, my home is wherever Ross and my children are,’ Rachel said simply, ‘But I hope and pray we shall never have to leave Lochandee.’ Alice expelled a breath she had not been aware she was holding. She relaxed as Rachel described the little village on the side of the Loch, some of its inhabitants, the woodland track where she and Ross sometimes took the children for a picnic, and where they thought they had lost Conan.

At the mention of his own name Conan came to life and chattered eagerly in his high chirruping voice, telling Sam of all the animals he would see and his own secret den where he could hide.

‘Margaret and baby Bridie are too wee to find me,’ he said triumphantly. ‘Bestest of all I like riding with Mama on her bicycle. I’m going to have a bicycle when I’m big. I’m going to make bicycles when I’m ever so old, like Mr Pearson.’

Sam smiled and asked Conan questions. By the time they arrived at The Glens of Lochandee the two were already firm friends.

Sam had been at Lochandee several days when he saw a man walking wearily up the track towards the farm. It was early evening and the milking had just finished.

‘I see you are having a visitor?’ He nodded towards a distant figure plodding up the farm road.

Frank Kidd and his wife had just left the byre and were heading home for their evening meal. They recognised the weary figure coming towards them and as one, they hurried back.

‘That’s Bill Carr, Mistress Beattie,’ Dolly said urgently. ‘D’ye remember I told you his lassie had been … Well the Factor got her, and – well she wouldna stand a chance against Elder. Now she has his bairn and nearly died a getting o’ it, they say …’

‘I remember, Dolly,’ Alice Beattie nodded. ‘But …’

‘That’s her father, that’s Bill Carr coming up the road.’ Dolly was more concerned than they had ever seen her. ‘He – he was sae angry and upset he attacked the Factor …’

‘And who could blame him! I’d hae done the same if it had been my lassie,’ Sandy nodded vehemently.

‘Aye, but now the Factor has told the Trains he would evict them frae the farm if they didna get rid o’ the Carrs. They have three boys o’ their ain and they’ve been in Marchiemount for four generations. Bill Carr’s a guid man, Mistress, and he’s been trying up and doon the glens for work but the other tenants are feared to take him on. He must be fair desperate.’

‘You think he’s coming here to seek work, Dolly?’

‘Aye, Mistress Beattie. I reckon so. It’s a long walk frae Marchiemount.’

‘We were not planning to hire another man, at least not until prices improve, but we always have more work to do than hands to do it, don’t we Ross?’

Ross remained silent, frowning.

‘We will discuss the situation before Mr Carr reaches us. You go home now Dolly and attend to your family. Beth, will you give the man some bannock and cheese, and a drink of buttermilk, please. Ask him to wait and we will discuss the situation while we eat our own meal.’

‘Suppose we did give the man work,’ Ross said as soon as they were alone, ‘the Factor would seize the first opportunity to terminate our tenancy. Where should we be then? I heard at the market that some o’ the tenants got together but Elder was too clever for them, and they couldn’t get in touch with the Laird himself.’

‘If that happens we shall get a good lawyer to fight for our rights,’ Alice said with determination. ‘The old Laird must be turning in his grave at the way the estate is going to ruin. I think there is little hope of this Factor allowing us to take back the original boundaries of The Glens of Lochandee, as Mr Shaw intended.’

‘None at all, I’d say,’ Ross said glumly. ‘He’s more likely to sell the whole farm.

‘Then we have nothing to lose. The man is in dire need. You do see that? Ross?’ Alice had an inner conviction that this situation was some sort of test of her own Christian integrity. She had never told anyone of her disgust with a Factor who had used his position to attack both Beth and Rachel in her own yard. She had received no reply to her letter to the Laird, expressing her contempt. She wondered whether the Laird had received her letter and if he had warned the Factor to keep away from Lochandee. Sometimes she was consumed with anxiety in case the letter had fallen into the hands of the Factor himself. Now she felt she was being challenged to prove her own sincerity by extending a helping hand to his victims.

‘Supposing we do find the man work, where would he live?’ Ross asked. ‘We have no more cottages. He and his daughter and her baby can’t live in the bothy with Alfie.’

‘That’s true,’ Alice conceded slowly. ‘I had not considered that. The shepherd’s cottage went with the ground McNish took over. The old calf-house at the back of the steading used to be a cottage. It is filthy but the roof is sound and it does have a chimney and a fireplace. It was used as a cottage when I was a girl.’

‘If the men moved the hay and straw out Beth and I could scrub it out.’ Rachel said. She knew Ross was not in favour of employing another man yet but there was plenty of work to be done, more than enough for one man.’

‘I am overruled then,’ Ross sighed, ‘but don’t say I didna warn you if the Factor seeks revenge.’

Rachel dimpled up at him and Ross could not resist that special smile. Tonight, he knew, she would amply repay him, but he could not rid himself of his uneasiness. He had heard the other tenants discussing the Factor’s malice and the Laird gave him a free rein.

Bill Carr was almost overcome with relief and gratitude, even when he understood the poor shelter he would have for a home.

‘When are you due to move out of your cottage?’ Ross asked.

‘We were supposed to be out yesterday.’ He hung his head. ‘Anywhere will be better than sleeping on the road.’

‘So soon!’ Ross whistled. ‘That does not give us much time then. I will send Sandy over with a horse and cart tomorrow morning, straight after milking. Can you be ready?’

‘Aye, we’re all ready now. We moved the furniture out and covered it with rugs and sacks, in case it rains. The Factor threatened to set fire to the cottage, with us in it, if we didna get out.’

‘He couldn’t do that!’ Alice gasped.

‘Mr Train was afraid he might. He reckons the Laird is in France most o’ the time so it would be easy enough to say we had caused it, or it was an accident.’

‘Well if you are packed and ready you could take the horse and cart home with you tonight,’ Ross decided. ‘It will save you walking, and the mare would only need one journey tomorrow.’

‘Eh, man, I dinna ken how tae thank ye,’ The man’s eyes glistened and he turned to look at Alice and Rachel. ‘May the good Lord bless ye all …’ He turned away, ashamed to show his emotions.

Long before he reached the bend in the track on the last stretch Bill Carr could see the spiral of smoke curling into the still air of evening.

‘Emmie!’ he breathed. ‘Oh God, please let her be safe.’

At Glens of Lochandee the milking was barely finished when the horse and cart came up the track. Ross couldn’t believe his eyes. There had been no time even to empty the old cottage. Bill Carr must have been up most of the night. As he drew nearer Ross’s heart sank even more. The man looked barely fit to stand on his own two feet, much less do a day’s manual work.

‘We did not expect you so early …’ He gazed past the two figures to the empty cart. ‘You have not brought your furniture, your belongings?’

Dejectedly Bill Carr told him of the three drunken lackeys the Factor had sent to burn everything they possessed.

‘Thank God, Mistress Train gave Emmie and the bairn protection.’

Ross’s glance moved to the childish figure clutching a whimpering baby. She didn’t look woman enough to bear a child, even less to suckle one.

Rachel and Beth had joined Ross in time to hear about the fire.

‘He’s a swine, that man.’ Beth gasped indignantly. Looking at the trembling girl she understood what her own fate would have been had Mistress Maxwell not saved her. ‘Somebody should – should knock him on the head like my Da does with the runt o’ the litter.’ Silently Rachel echoed her sentiments.

‘You had better come into the house. I’m sure Mistress Beattie will stretch the porridge for another two until we decide what to do.’

Alice took charge. Rachel envied her calm and supposed it must be the way she had been reared. In fact Alice thrived on challenge and organising.

‘Tonight Bill can sleep in the bothy with Alfie,’ she said. ‘Emmie will share Beth’s room and we can make a crib for the baby in one of the large drawers from the bottom of a wardrobe. All right?’ They all nodded agreement.

‘In that case we had better get on with breakfast or Ross will miss the milk train and your customers will be growing impatient for their milk, Beth. As soon as we have all eaten I will supervise Sandy and Alfie clearing out the hay and sweeping the old cottage. Meanwhile Rachel and I will see what we can find in the way of spare cooking pots and other utensils.’ She frowned thoughtfully.

‘Grandpa has some pans and mugs and a kettle he doesna use,’ Beth volunteered. ‘I could ask him if we could get them for Emmie.’

‘Very well,’ Alice agreed. ‘You may call in at the village on your way to the train.’

‘We will,’ Ross nodded, ‘but it is time we set out or we shall be left with the milk still standing on the platform instead of halfway to Glasgow.’

Bill Carr and his daughter were overcome with gratitude at the kindness of the people around them. Beth’s tender heart had been touched by their plight and she told her grandfather their story with a few embellishments of her own.

At the end of the week the old cottage had been cleaned and scrubbed and painted with white lime from top to bottom. Even Alice was astonished at the generosity of the people of Lochandee village although she had lived amongst them all her life. She did not realise it was her own act of human kindness which had set the example. Coupled with Beth’s eloquent pleading at the Manse, and her grandfather’s coaxing amongst his friends and neighbours, the old cottage looked like a home again. Its blazing fire was sending shadows up the newly whitened walls and a gleaming brass oil lamp from the doctor’s wife stood on the well-scrubbed dresser which Alice had unearthed. There was a thick rag rug in front of the hearth and the undertaker had sent his boy to repair the old box bed in the kitchen. Someone else had sent a brass and iron bedstead for Emmie and a cot big enough for three babies had come from one of the big houses on the far side of the loch, along with blankets and a small eiderdown. Several times Emmie was almost in tears as she accepted the gifts which the minister kept bringing with his own pony and cart.

‘I know the Reverend MacCreadie slightly. He was extremely concerned when he heard of the Carr’s plight and the dilemma of the Train family,’ he confided to Alice over one of his inevitable cups of tea and shortbread. ‘He tells me Bill Carr and his family are good people. They attended his church regularly. It is a lesson to all of us that you have shown such courage, and a fine example of Christian charity.’