Fields of Blue Flax (6 page)

‘He couldn’t say anything except Anna was black and blue. He had no idea how Jack was.’ Doug bit his lip and turned away from his wife and daughter, his eyes glistening.

‘Let’s go,’ said Lottie. ‘Dad’s right. If anything happens to them… Just for moral support?’

Mags stood up. ‘Okay, I’ll pack an overnight bag.’

Doug went to the back door and pulled the snib along at the top.

‘Mum, why don’t we take some food too, some of your flapjacks or brownies?’

‘Good idea.’ Mags bustled over to the other side of the kitchen and lifted a cake tin down from the shelf. She glanced at Doug and Lottie’s backs then at the bottle on the table. She upended it into her glass, tipped her head back and slugged the wine down.

Chapter Eight

1874

Elizabeth Barrie adjusted her bonnet and rang the bell at the back of the big house. The door creaked open and a plump woman wearing all black with a white apron and small lace cap greeted her.

‘The mistress is waiting for you,’ she said. ‘Whit d’you ken aboot the job?’

‘It’s a maid-of-all-work, but maybe helping in the kitchen? I heard Mrs Donaldson likes to sometimes dae some cooking for herself?’

‘It’s the “mistress” tae you. An’ I wouldnae exactly call it cookin’. She has these queer recipes wi’ fancy French names but Cook refuses to mak’ anythin’ she cannae pronounce.’ The woman, who looked in her late twenties, had a scowl on her face. As Elizabeth followed her into the house she noticed that she was not, in fact, fat. She realised this must be Meg, whose job she was hoping to take over when she left to have her baby.

‘Excuse me,’ Elizabeth whispered, as they traversed the wide expanse of polished black and white tiles in the hall, ‘are you Meg?’

‘Aye,’ she said, still surly.

‘Meg, is there anything I need to ken before I see the mistress?’

Meg studied Elizabeth’s face and said, ‘She’ll be fine wi’ the way you look. Just mak’ sure you speak proper.’

She knocked on the door and announced, ‘Elizabeth Barrie, Madam,’ and shuffled backwards out of the door.

An elegant lady in a striped gown of violet silk, her auburn hair tied in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, stood up from a seat by the wide bay window.

‘Come in, Elizabeth, let me see you.’

Elizabeth stepped towards her and stood up to her full height.

‘My, you’re a tall girl. How old are you? Seventeen?’

‘Yes, Madam.’

She peered into her face. ‘What extraordinary eyes you have. The colour of molasses.’ She sat down and gestured to her companion to sit too.

Elizabeth perched nervously on the edge of the chair.

‘And when was your birthday?’ Mrs Donaldson asked, dipping her pen into the ink pot at her desk.

‘February 29th.’

‘Ah, no wonder you look so young, you only have birthdays every four years!’ She looked pleased with her little joke; Elizabeth was unsure whether to smile. ‘Now, tell me a little about your work at the Patullos’.’

‘Yes, Madam.’ She cleared her throat. ‘I was a table maid for Mr and Mrs Patullo for three years and…’

‘You began employment at the age of fourteen?’

‘Yes, Madam, but only light duties, helping in the laundry and the dairy, sometimes serving at table. Then last year Cook was ill and off work for a wee while so I helped the mistress in the kitchen. I learnt a lot.’ Mrs Donaldson paused to take a note of this and Elizabeth cast a sidelong glance through the bay window. All she could see was grey.

‘I see. And was this cook the Mrs Jessica Malcolm who has referred you here?’

‘Aye – I mean yes, Madam. Cook was awful kind to me but she thought I would do better to move to the city so,
since she knew Meg, she asked if there might be a position here.’

Elizabeth looked once more out the window. She realised the grey must be water.

‘Excuse me for asking, Madam, but is that the sea?’

‘Yes. Well, it’s really an estuary, the widest part of the River Tay before it spills out into the North Sea. Have you never seen the sea?’

‘No, Madam. I thought it was blue.’

‘Grey on a day like today. Blue when the sky is blue. Presumably you have never visited Dundee before?’

‘No, never.’

‘The view from this room is the most wonderful aspect of this house.’ Mrs Donaldson swept her arm gracefully towards the window as if taking a bow. ‘Most days we can see all the way over to Fife, unless there is a low mist. You know what they say about living with a good view, Elizabeth?’

‘No, Madam.’

‘Those who live with a view live longer.’ She dipped her pen once more into the ink well. ‘And before you began employment at the Patullos’ in Strathmartine, where were you?’

‘Tannadice.’

‘Tannadice? I believe my husband has passed through there, visiting his farmers. Are there flax fields there?’

‘Fields and fields of blue flax the length and breadth o’ Angus,’ Elizabeth said, smiling.

‘As I thought. Your family are there?’

‘Aye.’ Elizabeth’s voice faltered. ‘Sorry, yes, Madam.’

Mrs Donaldson put down her pen and studied Elizabeth’s face once more, taking in those striking dark eyes. ‘I think
that, given the references I have from Mrs Patullo about how diligent you are, we might be able to accommodate you here. Should we decide you are to serve at table however, your diction must be improved.’

Elizabeth swallowed. She had no idea what diction was.

‘And one final thing. We are blessed with five children and though we employ a nurse, it is important to me that you like children. The little one is only three.’

‘Mrs Patullo has seven bairns and there’s always plenty noise, they run aboot all over the farmhouse.’

‘Our children do not run about and they are never noisy, Elizabeth,’ she said, standing up, the heavy silk of her dress rustling. ‘Now, I will have Meg show you the room you will be sharing with Nurse Myles.’ She rang the bell and turned round once more to gaze out over the water.

Chapter Nine

2014

Christine and Gerry walked into the relatives’ room in intensive care in silence. The walls in the windowless room were bare except for a notice above the sink about hand washing and hygiene. Four chairs were arranged around a coffee table, which had nothing on it apart from a box of tissues. Christine sat down, staring at the one white tissue poking out from the top; inert, it looked like a sail on a flat calm sea. She chewed at her nails, thinking there was nothing calm about the way she felt.

Gerry sat down next to her. ‘How long did the doctor say she’d be?’

Christine looked at her watch. ‘Half an hour, but that was over an hour ago, so it must be soon.’

‘He’s going to be fine, you know,’ Gerry said.

‘We don’t know, Gerry, we just don’t know.’ Christine grabbed the tissue and blew her nose.

‘Do you think they’ll let Anna up here later?’

‘I don’t know. I’m not sure that’s a good idea.’ Christine balled up the tissue and flung it at the bin. She slumped back into her chair. ‘What did Doug say?’

‘Just that they’d be down in a flash if we needed them.’

‘But you didn’t tell them to drive down, did you?’

‘No, calm down. I said to wait until we had more news. I’ll phone him again after the doctor’s been. You still not ready to phone Mags?’

She shook her head. ‘Not sure I’ll be able to hold it together on the phone.’

‘Okay, I’ll do the phoning. What about Charlie?’

‘Help, no. The least of our worries is telling Dad. We can let him know later, once everything’s fine. Don’t want to bother him yet.’ She looked at her watch again. ‘I can’t stand the waiting.’

Gerry took her hand in both of his and held it tight. ‘I know, but it’ll all be fine, you’ll see.’

The door burst open and Doctor Ali strode in, looking grave. ‘Sorry to have kept you waiting again.’ She was followed by a tall man with a closely shaven head. ‘This is Staff Nurse Yates.’

‘What’s happening?’ Christine cried out. ‘Why can’t we see him?’

Doctor Ali sat down opposite them. ‘When Jack came in to us he was in a pretty bad way; I’m told he had to be cut out of the car. The air ambulance team intubated him and he’s been in an induced coma ever since.’

Her beeper went off but she ignored it.

‘I wanted to do a CT scan to check for head injuries which would be consistent with the large gash and swelling on his forehead. We found there was diffuse axonal injury but only mild, which is surprising given the nature of the impact that must have caused the laceration on his forehead.’

Gerry coughed and lifted his hand. Christine glared at him.

‘Doctor Ali, I’m sorry to interrupt, but this might be important. Anna was telling me earlier that Jack sustained an injury last night at rugby training. She said he had a big gash on his head and she was worried he might need stitches. He said it was nothing though, and that he wasn’t concussed or anything. He didn’t tell us on the phone last
night as Christine would’ve just worried.’

Dr Ali nodded. ‘Well, that makes sense. Had his injury occurred during the RTA, his head injuries would have been more severe.’

‘RTA?’

‘Road traffic accident, Mrs Wallace.’ She looked at her watch. ‘Well, that’s encouraging news. And his seatbelt burns imply that his seatbelt was functioning. Perhaps the jolt brought on repeat concussion and opened up the wound.’

‘Doctor Ali,’ whispered Christine, ‘he’ll be all right, won’t he?’

‘The signs aren’t as bad as we thought now. We were worried mainly about his head injury, which doesn’t seem to be as serious as we’d feared. There’s no internal bleeding. We’re looking into injuries to his pelvis, which we think has been fractured or broken. Do you want to see him before we take him off the ventilator?’

‘Yes!’ Christine gasped. ‘Please.’

‘Okay, but bear in mind that we don’t know how he’ll be once he comes out of sedation. Follow us through, please.’ The doctor nodded to the nurse to open the door.

The moment she looked through the wide glass window of the room ahead, Christine recognised the unconscious body of her son. She saw his hand, a cannula taped to the back, his long slim fingers dangling limp over the white sheet. She took a deep breath and followed Dr Ali into the room where a young nurse, who looked no older than a girl, stood by the ventilator.

Christine bit her lip as she looked down at her son. Jack’s forehead was bloodied and bruised, his closed eyes swollen,
yet he looked peaceful and serene. Christine took his hand and felt herself start to shake as she tried to suppress sobs.

‘Love you, darling.’

Gerry, at the other side of the bed, stared at him and touched his wrist. ‘You’re going to be fine, son,’ he whispered and glanced at his wife whose shoulders shuddered as she silently wept.

Doctor Ali spoke quietly. ‘If you want to wait in the relatives’ room, we’ll call you back once he’s off the ventilator.’ She looked at her watch then at the nurse. ‘A couple of hours – about eight o’clock?’

The young nurse nodded. ‘We’ll come and get you when he’s ready.’

Christine took her seat once again in front of the box of tissues.

‘Shall I go and see Anna?’ Gerry stood at the door. ‘And I’ll get a sandwich or something for us on the way back?’

‘Yes, check on Anna. I need to stay here, but see if she’s allowed up to join us?’ She turned and glared at him as he scratched his beard. ‘How can you think about food, Gerry?’

‘Chris, we need to eat.’

‘Well, I don’t need to if I don’t want to!’ She spat the words out then realised how childish she sounded. ‘Sorry.’ She reached for his hand. ‘Just try to get Anna up here. Maybe they’ll give her a wheelchair?’

‘I’ll see what I can do.’

Christine watched him pull the door gently behind him then took out her phone and switched it on. There was no reception, which, on reflection, was just as well; she had no wish to speak to anyone.

She closed her eyes, stretched out her legs and leant her head against the back of the chair. As she thought of her boy, lying unmoving, with tubes everywhere, the tears started to flow. She stretched forward and ripped out one tissue after another as she began to heave with uncontrollable sobs.

Chapter Ten

1873

Elizabeth opened the heavy wooden gate and made her way around the side of the field. The flax was in flower and she gazed at the shimmer of blue under the weak summer sun. They were such a beautiful colour, the shade of blue matching the cloudless summer sky. Mr Patullo was at the far end of the field with one of his farmhands; she walked towards them with her basket.

As she approached, the farmer put down the tools he was using to repair the fence and smiled. ‘Ah, I was just wondering when you would arrive with our piece. What do you have for us today, young Elizabeth?’

‘Cook said to tell you it’s beef frae yesterday’s dinner, sir – she’s potted it. And there’s a loaf o’ her wheaten bread, a pat of fresh butter and a hunk o’ cheese frae the dairy.’ She took out a bulging cloth and untied the knot at the top, concentrating on her task with a frown.

‘Gie’s a smile, Elizabeth Barrie,’ said the farmhand.

‘Let her be, Fred,’ said Mr Patullo. ‘She’s not one of your common village girls.’

He looked at Elizabeth, tall and straight in her long, heavy serge skirt. She was trying to suppress a smile. ‘Thank you, Elizabeth. My, you seem to become taller every day.’

She nodded and knelt down to lay out the food on a cloth, then took out a flagon of ale and two mugs and poured. ‘Shall I wait over there for you to finish, sir?’

‘Yes, that will be fine, Elizabeth. I know you would rather look at the cattle than converse with us.’

Elizabeth grinned and tripped away towards the next field where the black cattle stood. Leaning on the gate, she gazed at the great lumbering beasts. She had always admired the broad deep backs and sleek coats of these beautiful Angus Blacks. Though she only tasted the beef when Cook gave her leftovers from the family’s dinner, she loved the flavour. Cook had been teaching her how to make good soups and it had surprised Elizabeth to hear Cook’s advice about adding a cow heel. She marvelled at how a heel from one of those great beasts could give such a strong flavour to a simple pot of soup.