Jenny Telfer Chaplin (8 page)

Elenora Patten knowing of Granny’s ongoing problems with her dentures raised the issue with Mary.

“Yes, she will want to be looking her best that evening, so she will for sure be wearing her teeth,” Mary said. “That is a problem.”

“How about instead of a sit-down meal in the dining room why don’t we have a buffet-style meal in the dimly candle-lit morning room?”

“A great idea, Elenora.
That way Granny could slip out her teeth and pocket them without anyone noticing. She can then dig into the food and the clootie-dumpling to her heart’s content. Then before we all go into the formal drawing room she can pop her teeth back in and be in state for the giving of her presents.”

“Since you are going to be extra busy in the kitchen, I’ve decided to bring in some more help. She’s called Kirsty. You’ll meet her tomorrow.”

“I don’t know anyone called Kirsty here-abouts–”

“No, she’s not local, Mary. She’s staying with Jess and Andrew for a day or so. When I mentioned about extra help to Jess she said Kirsty would be pleased to come in for a couple
of days – apparently she’s a great baker. After all we wouldn’t want Granny up to the ears in baking for her own party now would we?”

“What do we tell Granny about the extra baking and so on?”

“Oh, I’ve already told her I’m having a special sitting on the twenty-second and that’s why the extra help. I don’t think she suspects.”

Kirsty duly appeared on the day before the party and Mary left her in the kitchen while she saw to her own other duties in the house. In the kitchen for her mid-morning tea she could see that Granny and Kirsty were thick as thieves, but when Mary appeared conversation seemed to dry up and Granny finally said: “Ye're going to be busy with yer baking, Kirsty, so Ah’ll just go back to the cottage for a wee lie down.”

Mary followed Granny and when she had her alone said: “Ye were having a good chin-wag with Kirsty, what were ye talking about?”

“Och, just this and that. Did ye know that Archie didn’t come from Dunoon. The folk at Kinnaird brought him over from across the river to be coachman there.”

“So, Kirsty knows Archie? And she’s staying with his in-laws?”

“Aye, seems she’s known Archie for a long time – like all her life she says – but she didn’t know Jess and Andrew until Archie introduced them years ago.”

Ah should have tried to pump Granny for more information, Mary thought, as she pummelled the cushions in the drawing room as if they were sworn enemies. Kirsty must be an ‘old flame’ of Archie’s and Ah’ve thrown them together again. How could Ah be so damned stupid? Archie’s brought her over here to meet Jess and Andrew before he marries her! That must be it ... but that must mean Archie is back in Dunoon.

“If I were that cushion, I think I would have surrendered by now.” Elenora’s voice broke into Mary’s reverie.

“Oh, sorry.” Mary patted the cushion into place on the sofa. “My mind was elsewhere.”

“I must say you have the house looking really lovely with everything polished within an inch of its life. Granny and Kirsty seem to have hit it off, don’t you think?
Blethering like old friends when I saw them.”

Maybe Ah’ll manage to winkle some information out of Granny later. If Ah know Granny’s spierin ways Kirsty won’t be able to keep close any secrets.

“What? Sorry, Elenora I missed that.”

“Yes, you are in a strange faraway mood today. I said, I don’t think Granny suspects anything. Tomorrow, I’m going to tell her that for the sitting I will want her to be present: Best dress and very best smile for my special guests. It’s only fair to give her that much warning isn’t it?”

Granny spent most of the morning and early afternoon of the twenty-second of December grumbling.

“Why does Miss Patten want me at her thing tonight. Ah’ve never been at a sitting before. Ah even don’t like being in the house when she has the spookie parties.”

However, by early evening, she appeared at the ‘big house’ suitably dressed and with teeth in place.

“Where is everybody? Ah’m Ah too early?”

“No, Granny. You’re right on
time,” Elenora said. “ I wish to see you in the morning room.”

“It’s all dark in here,” Granny grumbled. Then Mary, young Elenor, Jess, Andrew, and Kirsty lit a candle each, shouting: “Happy birthday, Granny.”

Soon all the candles were lit and Granny could see the side table loaded with ‘finger-food’.

Granny turned away and Mary thought at first it was to wipe away a tear, but when she faced them again it was obvious she had whipped out her teeth to do justice to the food.

When everyone had eaten, Miss Patten announced: “We will withdraw to the drawing room.”

They trooped through the hall and Mary wondered why young Elenor and Kirsty didn’t join them. Mary noticed that the furniture had been rearranged in the drawing room with the various chairs and settees set facing an open space inside the door. They settled themselves and Mary poured coffee for everyone, then Kirsty appeared in the doorway.

“My brother and the wee girl are all ready. Do you want them to come in now?”

Elenora smiled. “Yes,
We’re all set. Kirsty give your brother the nod and come and sit beside Granny on the chaise longue.”

Kirsty and Granny sat whispering together and Elenora smiled again as she watched them.

From the hall the skirl of the pipes erupted and immediately after young Elenor danced into the room closely followed by a kilted Highlander.

If that’s Kirsty’s brother, then Ah’ve got it all wrong, Mary thought.

Above the exertions of playing the pipes, Archie looked across at Mary and she was sure he actually winked at her.

After the applause which followed young Elenor’s excellent display of dancing Elenora said: “Absolutely splendid, my dear. Now if our piper and his sister would help young Elenor with the last bit of our party ...”

Archie laid down his pipes. In seconds he, Kirsty and Young Elenor reappeared bearing a birthday cake on the top of which blazed a mass of candles.

The cake cut and passed round Granny gave a toothless grin and nodded at Archie.

“Elenor, stand beside your mother,” Archie said.

He dropped to one knee in front of them.

“Mary Drummond and daughter Elenor,” he winked at the laughing girl, “will you two do me the honour of becoming my bride and step-daughter? Ah suppose in a round-about way that would make Granny my adopted mother-in-law. Anyway, Ah’ll never go through this again for any woman – so, Mary speak now or forever hold yer peace.”

Mary in tears said; “Yes.”

Elenora Patten said: “I told you both, Ivylea will always have a place in your life.

Part 2

Chapter One

1918

On a fine summer’s afternoon in the soft clear air of Argyll, for Elenor Drummond it felt strange to be alive. Her beloved adopted Granny Mutch had only that morning been laid to her eternal rest in the local churchyard. For Elenor the glorious, invigorating sunshine seemed like a personal affront, if not an obscenity, at such a dark time of grief in her life.

Of course, she had to admit that with Granny’s great age and her battery of medical complaints it came as no surprise to anyone when, one morning, Granny failed to respond to Elenor’s ritual call of: “Here’s your cup of tea, Granny.”

While Elenor’s mother and Miss Patten, firm in their belief of a wonderful life in the Great Hereafter, seemed to accept with equanimity the fact of its ‘being Granny’s time’, for Elenor this was scant comfort. From the very moment of Granny’s demise and all through the funeral service Elenor had been weeping bitterly. Now, surrounded by family and friends in the drawing room of Ivylea she was still sobbing piteously and bemoaning her Granny Mutch’s departure for ever from the ‘Vale of Tears’.

As Elenor reached for yet another handkerchief, her Mother caught her glance and said: “Elenor! For heaven’s sake can’t you at least gain some comfort from the knowledge that at long last Granny’s suffering is now over? She is free of all earthly ills and her spirit, the essence of what she was and is, will go on forever.”

Miss Patten in her soft, gently-accented voice said: “Your Mother is right. I am sure that when next I go into trance you will see the features of your beloved Granny – albeit she will probably appear looking much younger and happier than she ever did as she aged toward her ninetieth birthday.”

Elenor leapt to her feet and to the amazement of the other mourners she glared at the medium and with a voice thick with hate and revulsion she stormed: “I will thank you not to speak of my dear old Granny in such terms, As we all know, over the years in this house with your many sittings or séances, Granny Mutch would have nothing whatsoever to do with them. She steered well clear of such events – spookie week-ends was her name for them.”

There was a concerted intake of breath at Elenor’s rudeness from the roomful of mourners the majority of whom shared the beliefs and concepts of the afterlife so frequently expounded by Miss Patten.

Following Elenor’s outburst, the only sound to be heard was the ticking of the ornate French clock on the mantelshelf. As the silence lengthened uncomfortably, Mrs Cooper got to her feet and looking directly into her daughter’s eyes, she said: “I think you owe Miss Patten an apology. After all, not only has she never tried to impose her views on anyone, least of all you or Granny, there is another consideration. It is thanks to Miss Patten that you have had such a privileged childhood.”

Despite the reasoning tone of her voice it was nevertheless abundantly clear Mrs Cooper was furious with her daughter.

Even so, and still almost beside herself with the intensity of her grief Elenor was detemined to have the last word. She swivelled to face Miss Patten and with tears coursing down her cheeks, she said: “If I appear to seem ungrateful for the home you so graciously bestowed on us, then for such ingratitude I do apologise. However ...” Elenor gulped, tried in vain to wipe away a torrent of tears,
then finally continued: “But as for all that mumbo-jumbo about trances and spirits returning from the Great Beyond – not my cup of tea, thank you. Since Granny Mutch had no faith in it either, please, just let the poor old soul rest in peace.”

In the months following Granny’s death the tension in Stable Cottage and Ivylea grew unbearable.

On a fine autumn morning, for the third time that day, Elenor and her mother were locked in fierce debate. Red in the face and her whole body shaking with anger Elenor spat out: “No! I will not stay here a moment longer. I have neither interest nor belief in séances, trances and messages from the spirit world. Miss Patten has accepted and chosen to respect my views on such matters. So why can’t you, my own mother, do the same?”

Mrs Cooper sat down at the kitchen table and gazed up at her still sorely-grieving daughter, “Will you please sit down, calm yourself, and listen to what I have to say. If we’re being honest, it isn’t spiritual beliefs, or the lack of them, we’re arguing about now is it?”

“Trust you, Mother, to twist everything I say. That’s typical. As usual you have to be the one that’s right. Anyway I’m old
enough  now to do as I please, go where I wish – live in a garden shed should I choose to do so.”

“Old enough!
Hmph! Old enough you say – to go out into the world? You’re barely more than a child. Let us not forget what a sheltered existence you’ve had here all the years of your growing up.”

“I’m nineteen, Mother. From what I’ve been told just about the same age as you were when you first came to Ivylea.”

“Well ... even so, your father would never allow it. So there’s an end to the matter.”

Elenor gave an angry toss of her head. “Archie Cooper – good husband that he is to you – is not my father. So let’s leave him out of this. Anyway, even Miss Patten, with all her mumbo-jumbo, has a much more down-to-earth attitude with regard to my lifestyle.”

“Indeed? How exactly do you come to that conclusion? If I may make so bold as to ask?”

Elenor grimaced. “Really, Mother, sarcasm does not suit you. You would do well to take notice of the words and advice of Miss Patten: ‘Let Elenor be, after all we each have a different path to take on life’s journey. Elenor must have the freedom to follow the way that has been mapped out for her.’”

Whether it was Miss Patten’s advice which won the day or Archie Cooper’s common-sense approach, or even that reason simply prevailed over useless, heated arguments, the end result was the same. Well before her twentieth birthday, Elenor had packed her bags and left
Ivylea  and all it stood for. Not that she had moved very far geographically from Stable Cottage, her mother, and Miss Patten, but in spiritual matters she might well be living on a different planet instead of only a few short miles further along Dunoon’s seafront.

As she looked out across the Firth from the common room of Clydeview yet again Elenor revelled in the ever changing scene as the early morning sun dappled the waves. Still deep in thought, she was startled to hear a voice behind her say: “Now then, Elenor, time you were getting your young charges up and down to breakfast.”

She turned to face her work companion and immediate boss, Nurse Rena Weir, who continued: “And no more nonsense such as we had yesterday about some of those underfed Glasgow bairns making faces at the sight of a good nourishing bowl of porridge.”

Elenor laughed. “I’m not much of a porridge fan myself so I couldn’t help but laugh at their antics. Now could I?”

“You’re just too soft. An easy target for some of those young rascals. A good job you’ve got me and Matron to keep them in order.”

“In order?
Is that what you call it? You’re every bit as soft hearted as I am. Don’t forget I’ve seen you slipping many a weepy, home-sick bairn a wee square or two of your vanilla tablet.”

Rena smiled. “But now for goodness sake, let’s get breakfast over and done with. Don’t forget this is a changeover day and you know how frantically busy that can be.”

Later that same day having said goodbye to one batch and welcomed the new intake of peelie-wallie-looking underprivileged city children Elenor said: “It’s a wonderful idea isn’t it?
This ‘Fresh Air Fortnight’.”

Mrs Judd, the cook, agreed. “Mind you, it’s only lately it’s been called that. When Miss Clugston left the money for the setting up of Clydeview like this I think it had a much grander title. But the idea has always been the same – to give a wee holiday to city bairns. Some of them
never having had a square meal. Far less seen the seaside It gets them away from the smoke and dirt of Glasgow into the pure fresh air of Argyll.”

“They’re not the only ones. It’s thanks to Clydeview that I’ve found a new home and a new purpose in life these past three years.”

Mrs Judd laughed. “Aye, and if I’m not mistaken you’re about to find yourself a husband, thanks to Clydeview. Don’t forget I’ve seen the way that young Doctor Kennedy looks at you when he’s supposed to be seeing to the children.”

Elanora felt herself blushing. “Oh, that’s all in your imagination, Mrs Judd.”

Smiling, standing with her hands on her hips, Mrs Judd said: “Say what you like. I foresee a June wedding.”

“Please, don’t you start predicting my
future. I get enough of that from Miss Patten.”

To Mrs Judd’s delight, in June of 1921 Elenor and the handsome Doctor Kennedy walked down the aisle of the High Kirk as husband and wife, and on to a magnificent reception at Ivylea.

Over the years since leaving Stable Cottage and working as a children’s helper at Clydeview, Elenor had maintained a wary truce with her mother. Now, here she was, the bride of a doctor no less – what greater destiny could Mrs Cooper have wished for her beloved only daughter? Elenor had arrived! Her life was now set fair to become the helpmate of a busy general practitioner in Dunoon.

However, in the course of the wedding reception’s festivities, Doctor Kennedy surprised his new in-laws by announcing that far from settling down in a seafront stone villa, he and Elenor would soon be quitting the shores of Scotland and leaving for the West Coast of Africa. A stunned silence greeted this startling news leaving Miss Patten alone completely unfazed.

Seeing Miss Patten’s reaction, Elenor thought: I might have known. We didn’t even tell Rory’s parents and only got the final acceptance letter this morning. Trust Miss Patten, the spaewife. She probably knew all about it before we were even sure ourselves.

Elenor smiled across at Miss Patten and was startled at the returning almost imperceptible nod followed by, of all things, a wink! It seemed to Elenor that Miss Patten might as well have said out loud: “Yes, Elenor, you’re doing the right thing – everything is exactly the way it is meant to be. It has all been foretold.”