Rachel's Coming Home (11 page)

Anthony's mood improved as they proceeded to wander around the large field where the stalls were set out in improvised avenues. Boroughbie Show wasn't a large one, not when compared with the Royal Highland Show in Edinburgh, or even the Dumfries and Lockerbie Show just south of here. But it was well attended and today the sun was shining brightly. Not being particularly interested in farm animals, and very keen to avoid Freddy Smith, he steered them towards the arts and craft section.

He came to a sudden halt before a stall displaying pictures of the bleak upland hills. They were stunning. ‘Wow.' He looked more closely. These weren't paintings, he could see that much. Some were in black and white but others had colour shaded in, very faint, adding to the atmosphere of the high country. ‘How are they done?' he asked. He was really impressed. His question had been addressed to Gemma but the man behind the stall answered him.

‘They're prints. I'm a print maker.' He smiled brightly at them. He was a small, plump man with a fringe of dark hair all around his head, like a monk's.

‘They're lovely,' said Gemma, but Anthony could tell she was just being polite. She wasn't awed by them as he was.

‘How do you do them?' he asked, bending down to look more closely. He could see now that there were a few copies of each picture, and yet every one looked like an original.

‘I work mostly in lino cut,' said the man. ‘This is one, see? There's a lot of work in the design and the cutting of the stencils, like. Then you can print oot up to fifty, depending on the materials. I don't tend to do more than that, I like them to still be special. They're right fine, are they no'?'

‘I like the way you get the lines to … I don't know. But I like the way the lines are.' Anthony put his head on one side, examining the pictures more closely. ‘I'd love to see how it's done.'

‘Did you no study art at school? Sometimes they do stencilling there, that would give you the idea.'

‘I wasn't allowed,' said Anthony, momentarily sulky. His parents, encouraged by Rachel, had thought academic subjects were more important.

‘I've just done my Art Higher,' said Gemma. ‘But we never did anything like this.'

The man took out one of his cards and handed it over. ‘I'm Rupert Randall,' he said cheerily. ‘My studio is on the Low Road going out of town towards Selkirk. I don't generally run an open studio, but if you're really interested why don't you drop by sometime?'

Anthony took the card and turned it around in this hand. This, too, had been hand printed. It was the pattern of an eagle repeated in a complicated circle. He'd love to know how he did that. ‘That'd be cool,' he said. ‘Thanks a lot.'

‘That's very kind of you,' said Gemma politely.

Anthony would have liked to have stayed and talked some more, but she ushered him away. ‘Why'd you do that?' he said. ‘I wanted to look through all this stuff, there was stacks of it we hadn't seen.'

‘We were monopolising the whole stall. He's there to sell stuff, not to talk to us, and we were keeping people away.'

Anthony hadn't noticed that, but maybe she was right. He stuck the card in the pocket of his jeans and said, ‘Anyone for an ice cream? A coke? I think we deserve a break.'

He was rewarded by a small smile from Amelia.

Rachel found that she was actually enjoying her role at the Boroughbie Show. She had never been prone to shyness but had to admit to feeling a little intimidated before the formalities began. Once they were in the swing of things, however, she relaxed. Everyone was so friendly and appreciative, saying positive things, for once, about not only her rescue of Jinty but about Collington Kennels as well. She wished her parents could have been there to see it. Unfortunately her mother had been feeling a little under the weather and her father had insisted on staying home to keep her company.

Rachel had never shaken so many hands or smiled for so many photographs, but it was actually quite fun handing out the rosettes and medals. Everyone had worked so hard to get the best from their animals and it was lovely to see their efforts being rewarded. Freddy Smith came second in the Galloway Heifer Stirk section and even he managed a small smile of acknowledgement.

Of course, the bright sunshine helped maintain the cheerful mood, as did the presence of Philip Milligan at her side. She had previously thought him rather reserved, but today the charm that was so apparent on the small screen was very much to the fore. He chatted with all and sundry, had his photograph taken time and time again, and still managed to make her feel special.

They had just presented the very last cup and Philip had touched her hand and said, ‘I think we deserve a drink now, don't you?' when her mobile phone rang.

She smiled apologetically and withdrew to one side to answer it. As she did so she realised she had already missed two calls from home, unheard amongst all the noise.

‘Hi Mum,' she said. ‘Sorry I missed you earlier …'

‘It's Dad.'

Immediately Rachel felt panic. Her father never phoned her mobile unless it was absolutely unavoidable. ‘What's happened? Where's Mum?'

‘I wonder if you could come home, Rachel. Your mother's, er, rather unwell. I've called an ambulance and they should be here any minute. And if you could track down Anthony …?' Her father's tone was as mild and polite as usual, but Rachel could detect the tremor in it.

‘But what's happened? Tell me what happened.' Rachel was clinging to the small phone, desperate for information.

‘You know your mother was feeling a little dizzy this morning? I persuaded her to have a lie down, but when I took her up a cup of tea a little while ago I couldn't seem to wake her …'

‘She's unconscious?' yelped Rachel. ‘Is she … is she breathing?'

‘Oh yes, dear, she's breathing. But she sounds horribly wheezy. They want to get her into hospital as soon as they can.'

‘I'm on my way,' said Rachel. ‘If the ambulance arrives before we do, you go on to the hospital, we'll follow you.'

Her heart was beating so fast she found it hard to concentrate. She looked desperately around for Anthony in the milling crowd and then realised that Philip was at her side.

‘I can see there's a problem,' he said quietly. ‘Can I help?'

‘I need to get home. But I need to find Anthony first.' Rachel closed her eyes for a moment, to clear her head. She was supposed to be the organised one, she shouldn't be panicking.

‘I said I'd meet Anthony and that very nice young lady in the tea tent, so that's most likely where they'll be. Why don't you head over there and I'll say our goodbyes here? I'll catch you up.'

‘Thanks.' I was a relief to have someone take charge. Rachel jumped down the steps of the stand two at a time and set off across the emptying field. What was going on? How could her mother suddenly be so ill? She felt shaky with fear. It couldn't be anything serious, could it?

Chapter Nine

Maggie Collington was taken to the Infirmary in Dumfries. Rachel and her father followed the ambulance in her car and Anthony stayed at home to look after the dogs, assisted by Philip Milligan and Amelia. Rachel couldn't quite understand how Philip had become so involved, but she didn't have the time or energy to object.

By the time they arrived at the hospital Maggie had been taken straight to Intensive Care and all Rachel and her father could do was wait. The hospital canteen served surprisingly good coffee, but it was no comfort. Eventually, on their third attempt to visit the ward, a white-coated doctor came out to see them.

‘How is she?' demanded Rachel and her father together.

‘She's doing fine. We've stabilised her condition and are doing a number of tests, but our suspicion at the moment is that she has had a bad reaction to the new drug she has recently started. She may have been warned about dizziness and a rash?' He looked questioningly at his interlocutors.

Rachel shrugged and looked at her father. She felt horribly guilty. There had been so much to worry about recently, she hadn't given her mother's visit to the hospital outpatients the attention it deserved.

‘She didn't say anything,' said her father with a sigh. ‘But then Maggie does like to play down her own problems. She hates to feel a burden, not that she is, of course. Why, look at me …' He indicated the crutch that he still used to help him walk although the plaster had now been removed from his ankle.

‘So if she stops taking the medication immediately she'll be all right?' asked Rachel.

‘That is what we're hoping, but only time will tell.'

Rachel sat back in the hard chair and breathed properly for what seemed like the first time in hours. ‘Thank goodness.'

‘Can we go in and see her?' asked her father.

They were allowed to go briefly to the bedside, to see for themselves that Maggie's breathing had improved. She couldn't talk to them as she was mildly sedated but the nurse who showed them in assured them that they could phone for updates and they were welcome to visit again the next morning. As Rachel pressed her lips to her mother's pale cheek, she closed her eyes to hold back tears of relief. They had all had a fright, but the important thing was everything was going to be all right now.

After the excitement of the Boroughbie Show and the anxiety of the hospital visit, Rachel was relieved when life settled into a calmer rhythm. Bookings in the kennels were picking up, although still lower than the previous year. Her mother had been transferred to a general ward and was due home any day. Her father could now walk short distances without a crutch. It was time, she decided, to turn her attention to Anthony.

‘You've been really helpful around the kennels,' she said, catching up with him as he returned from walking three cairn terriers.

‘Mmm.' Anthony gave each of the dogs a treat and let them back into their runs.

‘Mum and Dad are paying you what they can, but things are a bit difficult at the moment, as you know.'

‘I know. I'm not complaining, am I?'

It was true that Anthony wasn't complaining, which was good, but nor was he making any decisions about what to do about his future. And that wasn't good.

‘You'll need to confirm whether you're going to take up your place at university within the next two weeks,' said Rachel, perching herself on the garden wall. It might be easier to talk to him out here.

‘So you and Dad keep saying.'

‘So – have you decided?'

Anthony leant against the wall but looked at his feet, not at her. ‘I don't know. I don't know if I want a career in IT any more.'

Rachel suppressed a sigh. It wouldn't help if she annoyed him even more than she usually seemed to do. She never intended to come across as the bossy elder sister but that was how he saw her.

‘If you're not sure then you shouldn't do it. It's a four-year course. That's a big commitment of time, not to mention money.'

Now Anthony did glance at her from beneath lashes so long they should have been a girl's. ‘Are you serious? I thought you were all desperate for me to go.'

‘Not if you don't want to. There's no point.'

‘OK, then I won't go.' Anthony seemed genuinely relieved. ‘The more I think about it the more I'm sure it's not what I want to do.'

Rachel was surprised and pleased to have got a decision out of him, but she wasn't going to leave it there.

‘That's fine, if you're sure. We'll need to let the admissions people know. And then, if you're not going to do that, you'll need to think about what you
are
going to do.'

Now it was Anthony's time to sigh, a huge exhalation he didn't bother to try and hide. ‘I don't know, do I? Everyone thinks you just know what you want to do, but I don't. Gemma's lucky, she's desperate to start her Business Studies course. I can't think of anything duller myself.'

Rachel thought Gemma was possibly as keen to get away from her difficult father as she was to progress her studies, but she didn't say so. ‘It's good that you're getting on well with Gemma. She's a nice girl.'

‘We're not going out,' said Anthony abruptly. ‘She won't go out with me. Says her dad won't approve.'

‘That's a shame,' said Rachel, thinking it would be a very good thing if Gemma left home. ‘But you can still be friendly; that's something, isn't it?'

‘Hmm,' said Anthony and heaved himself away from the wall. He headed off down to the house, the conversation over. Rachel would have liked to discuss things further, and vowed to make the opportunity for a further chat in the next day or so.

She was about to follow him indoors when she spotted a piece of white paper on the ground. She bent down to pick it up and turned it over slowly in her hands. It was the card of an artist called Rupert Randall, based in Boroughbie. It was beautifully illustrated with black and white drawings of an eagle. Rachel remembered now how Anthony had raved about meeting this man, about how brilliant his work was. The man had apparently said that Anthony could call in at his studio, but he said he wasn't going to bother, as there was no point.

Rachel turned the card over in her hand again and wondered if she wouldn't pay a little visit herself.

Rachel found herself going out to lunch with Charlie McArthur. He had invited her out a few times recently but for one reason or another she hadn't been able to go. This time she had accepted, more because she felt bad for the earlier refusals than because she really wanted to go. Charlie was a nice enough guy but she suspected he had more interest in her than she did in him, and this made her uncomfortable.

‘You look beautiful,' said her mother fondly when she went up to her bedroom to say goodbye. Maggie Collington had been discharged from hospital a few days earlier, but still needed to rest. At the moment she was agreeing to do so. ‘Have a lovely time.'