Fields of Blue Flax (4 page)

‘Yes, they’re driving up together. Jack’s leaving Durham after breakfast and picking up Anna in Newcastle. How about Lottie? Still enjoying her piano teaching?’

Lottie had a degree in music but had struggled to find a job after university.

‘Yeah,’ said Doug. ‘It’s not what she’d wanted to do, but needs must. Though what her pupils must think when they
go to her flat for lessons… It’s a shambles.’

‘It’s not that bad, Doug, and mostly she goes to their houses anyway.’ Mags turned to Christine. ‘This is delicious, the garlic’s almost sweet, not as strong as you thought it would be. Gorgeous!’

The conversation turned to dentistry, both men bemoaning the fact things were not as they used to be. Mags gave an exaggerated yawn then turned to Christine and asked, ‘So how was class today, Miss?’

Christine had just started to tell her about the project her class were doing on farm implements when Gerry put his hand up to his mouth and yawned. Silence ensued while they all scraped their plates clean then Gerry went to the kitchen to fetch more wine. He began filling up the glasses.

‘How’s the cake business going, Mags?’

Mags took a gulp. ‘Well, if I’m honest, a bit slow, but I’ve not got the website up and running yet so it’s still only word of mouth.’

‘Tell them how much that chancer quoted you to build a website, darling.’ Doug held out his glass to Gerry.

‘God, yeah, four thousand pounds. And he knows I run my own business. So Lottie’s setting it up for me instead, with her friend Ben – you know, the really tall guy who did IT? I’ll pay them as little as I can get away with. No choice really.’

‘Your cakes are delicious, darling,’ said Doug. ‘Once more people know, you’ll be rushed off your feet!’

‘Talking of cakes, is it time?’ Mags winked at Christine and they headed for the kitchen before re-emerging with the cake. On top was a set of dentures made of marzipan and a large candle in the shape of a figure dressed in white with a stethoscope round his neck.

‘Sorry Gerry, I know you guys don’t use stethoscopes, but it was all I could get!’ Mags placed the cake stand in front of Gerry and Christine lit the candle.

Gerry guffawed then sat back on his chair, shaking his head. ‘You’re a genius, Mags. How on earth did you get that?’

‘Oh, I have my sources,’ Mags smiled, as Gerry blew the candle out.

‘Talking of sources,’ said Doug, stretching back in his chair, swirling his wine around in his glass. ‘I’m feeling strong enough, I’ve had enough booze. Tell us boring dentists all about the exciting time you’ve had researching the Duncan Family Scandal!’ He rubbed his smooth chin between his thumb and forefinger as he looked from Mags to Christine, eyes twinkling.

‘You really want to hear?’ said Christine.

‘Too right, girls. Gerry and I talk of little else over our pints these days.’ He grinned and raised an eyebrow.

Mags cut large slabs of cake while Christine started to tell the men how far they’d got in their research.

Chapter Four

1881

Elizabeth blew out the last candle in the dining room and carried the pile of pudding plates downstairs to the scullery.

‘Here Jane, the last lot o’ dishes.’

Her sister looked round from a large stone sink of soapy water and sighed. ‘Why do yon folk need so many courses? Surely a plate o’ soup, some mince then a wee puddin’d dae fine?’

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head.

‘The mistress fair wanted to impress those jute barons tonight.’

Jane continued her scrubbing. ‘Aye, well, they’ve no’ been up since five in the morning like us.’ She yawned. ‘Whit was yon main course again?’

Elizabeth went into the pantry and brought out the ashet of meat. She removed the muslin cloth, pulled off a piece of meat and fed it to her sister whose hands were still deep in water.

‘Braised leg o’ mutton. Though she had some daft fancy French name for it. But the thing is, it’s meant to cook for aboot four hours wi’ vegetables an a’ sorts to mak’ it tender, but she was in such a state after wee Mary’s accident, she started it too late.’

‘Is the wee one all right now?’ Jane mumbled, her mouth full.

‘Fine, just took a tumble doon a couple o’ stairs.’

Jane was still chewing the meat. ‘Aye, it’s tasty, but a bit tough,’ Jane said. ‘I’d rather hae a mutton pie.’

‘An’ the mistress still willnae trust me wi’ a big joint o’ meat, even though I did a’ that stuff at the Patullos’ when cook Jessie was off ill for months.’

Jane nodded at the cloths hanging above the range. ‘Gie’s a hand wi’ the drying, would you?’

Elizabeth pulled down a cloth from the pulley and reached for a plate. Her sister plunged one hand down so it was elbow deep in soapy water and pulled out the plug. ‘I’ve just got tae shine up the copper pans then that’s me finished,’ Jane said, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand. She took the wet cloth from over her shoulder and handed it to her sister. ‘Hang this up for me, will you. Wish I was a giant like you.’

‘Tall for my age, not a giant.’ Elizabeth took the cloth and tossed it over the pulley.

‘Mind when you were ten and someone thought you were married and aboot eighteen?’

‘Aye, bein’ tall’s handy sometimes. You can get away with all sorts!’ Elizabeth grinned.

The sisters worked in silence for a while, eager to get their work finished quickly. ‘Right,’ said Elizabeth eventually. ‘You’ll be wantin’ a wee taste o’ puddin’ before bed?’ She went into the pantry and brought out a large round dish with a half-eaten pudding.

‘That looks good, whit’s it called?’ Jane wiped both hands down her apron then untied it and hung it on a hook by the sink.

Elizabeth went to get a large spoon from the kitchen drawer. ‘Golden Puddin’, meant to just have marmalade through the mixture but I put a puddle o’ it underneath so when it was turned onto the dish it looked like a golden crown. The master said it was the best puddin’ he’s ever
had.’

Jane took the spoon and devoured a large bite. ‘Aye it’s good, Elizabeth, no’ too sweet. But if he thinks that’s the best puddin’ he’s had, then the master’s obviously no’ had oor Ma’s dumpling!’

Elizabeth yawned widely and nodded. ‘Aye, you’re right there.’ She looked around the kitchen. ‘Grand, everything’s clean and tidy now. Awa’ upstairs wi’ you. It’s bed time.’

Chapter Five

2014

Christine told Mags later that the phone call that changed her life forever did not come at a convenient time. The moment she had to drop everything, drive a hundred miles and be away from home for a week was at a time she was not ready to face the world.

She had just finished cleaning the house and was exhausted. There were plastic Sainsbury’s bags all over the kitchen floor. The supermarket van had just delivered but she couldn’t face putting the things away yet so had put on the kettle to make coffee.
Woman’s Hour
was blaring from the radio on the window ledge.

Christine looked out to the garden, her pride and joy. She was contemplating whether to plant some more pansies in the corner when she noticed a dead starling lying in the middle of the lawn, feathers still fluttering. A large crow was perched on the tree above, looking down menacingly. Why do some birds kill each other if not for food; was it just for fun? She made a mental note to go out after she’d had her coffee, remove the prone body from the lawn and bury it.

She was filling the cafetière with water when the phone rang.

It was Anna. ‘Mum, there’s been an accident.’

The words every parent dreads.

‘What?’ Christine held onto the sink and felt her entire body tighten.

‘Jack and I have had a bit of an accident on the A1. He’s been taken to Newcastle hospital and…’

‘Very funny. So where are you now?’

‘Mum.’ Anna’s voice faltered. ‘This isn’t a joke, he’s been taken to hospital.’

‘Is he okay? Are you okay?’

‘I’m fine.’ Christine heard her daughter take a deep breath. ‘And I think, I hope, Jack’ll be fine, they just need to check everything.’

‘What do you mean, you think he’ll be okay? What’s that noise, Anna?’ She could hear someone speaking in the background.

‘It’s Andy, the policeman. I’m in a police car, Mum. Jack’s been air-ambulanced to the hospital.’

Christine felt sick. She staggered over to the table and dropped into a chair. Her two children had already been on the phone earlier, teasing her, saying they were nearly in Cornwall. ‘Very funny,’ she had said, laughing. ‘Just turn the car round and get up to Edinburgh as soon as possible.’

There was no laughter now.

‘Got to hang up, Mum. Andy says we’re nearly there. I’ll phone you or Dad when I know more.’

Anna had hung up before Christine had had time to tell her she loved her. She couldn’t quite grasp what Anna had just told her. It was impossible. Things like this don’t happen to us, she thought. Accidents happen to other people.

She stared at the phone then punched in Gerry’s number. He’d had some patients first thing then he was off to North Berwick and was due home at lunchtime. But his phone was engaged so she hung up and sat looking down at her hands, twisting her wedding ring round and round. A couple of seconds later, the phone rang.

It was Gerry.

‘Chris, did Anna get through to you?’

‘Yes.’

‘I’ve just heard, I’m on my way to the hospital. I’ll be there in about an hour, I’m already on the A1.’

‘Gerry, I don’t know what…’

‘Jump in the car, I’ll meet you there. Just put Newcastle Royal Victoria Infirmary into your sat nav.’

‘What could’ve happened, Gerry?’

‘No idea, just get going. And drive carefully.’

There was a click at the end of the line. She pictured Gerry tapping his handsfree device, putting on his glasses then concentrating on driving his Mercedes south as fast as possible. Christine ran upstairs to grab her bag from the bedroom. She threw in her phone charger and hurried into the bathroom, flinging in her moisturiser and toothbrush. She raced downstairs, taking the steps two by two.

Then she remembered the shopping. She rushed into the kitchen and picked up the supermarket bags from the floor. She rammed them all into the fridge and headed for the door.

Christine pulled the front door shut and raced to her car. This was not how she’d anticipated Good Friday would turn out.

The journey seemed interminable. Christine focused on taking deep breaths, trying to concentrate on her driving as she squinted into the bright spring sunshine, cursing the fact that her sunglasses weren’t in her handbag. The roads were busy; other cars were taking forever in the overtaking lanes. Why were they driving so slowly? Then as she passed Berwick, she looked at her petrol gauge.

Dammit, why today of all days did she need petrol?

Christine swerved into the next petrol station and filled
up the tank. As she hurried into the shop, she took out her phone from the depths of her bag and saw that she had two missed calls from Gerry. Quickly, she called him back, pausing next to a stand of cheap sunglasses.

‘How are they?’

‘The news isn’t great. Anna’s got to go for x-rays and Jack’s having a CT scan so I’m staying with Anna for now. We can see Jack later.’

‘What happened?’

‘A car rammed them at speed, while they were stationary.’

‘Oh no, my babies…’

‘Just get down here, Chris.’

He hung up, and Christine felt her eyes well up. She picked up a pair of sunglasses and headed for the till.

‘Number?’ asked the greasy-haired girl.

‘Just the one pair,’ Christine whispered.

‘No, which pump?’

‘Oh.’ Christine looked through the glass at her car. ‘Two.’

‘And you want those too?’ The girls pointed at the glasses.

‘Er, yes, please.’ Christine stared at them as if for the first time.

‘You know they’re kids’ glasses, it’s all we’ve got.’

‘Fine, how much altogether?’

Back in her car Chris tried to put the glasses on. They were far too small. She threw them on the passenger seat, flipped down her sun visor and started the engine.

Before she drove off, she reached for Lottie’s piano CD – ideal for keeping her calm. As she put the car into gear, she suddenly remembered that Mags was meant to be visiting that morning with a Simnel cake. She’d no time to phone, Mags would want every detail. Christine tapped out a quick text: ‘Not home. Kids had accident, off to Newcastle.
More later. X’, and drove off.

A couple of minutes later there was a ping on her phone. She slowed down and peered at the screen. ‘WHAT? Phone me!’ Christine put her phone on mute, flung it into her bag and pressed her foot down on the pedal.

Christine burst into the hospital’s A&E department, frantically looking for Gerry. Scanning all the people sitting there, she saw an elderly couple holding hands. There was a teenager pressing a bloodied bandage to his temple. There were a couple of toddlers, dummies in their mouths, sitting on the floor beside a woman in a baseball cap. And there was a man in a suit, rather too shiny to be well made. He looked straight down to the floor through parted knees and beside him sat a girl, about ten, resting her head against his shoulder. No one looked up as Christine sprinted to the desk.

‘I’m looking for my family, they’ve been in an accident. My husband said he’d be here but I can’t see him.’ She steadied herself against the desk.

‘No problem, what’s the name?’

‘Christine.’

The man raised his eyebrows.

‘Sorry. Wallace. Christine Wallace.’

The man tapped on his keyboard then looked up. ‘Your daughter Anna’s still in x-ray but should be back soon in the ward at the end of that corridor there. But there’s a man – your husband, I presume? – in the day room just round the corner from here.’ He pointed his finger round to the left. ‘He’s with a policeman. Just knock and go in, Mrs Wallace.’

As soon as she opened the door to the day room, Gerry
rushed over and hugged her tightly. His beard tickled her skin and she sprang back, noticing as she did so how pale her husband was.

‘Chris, this is Sergeant Price.’