Rachel's Coming Home (13 page)

They all looked at him in amazement.

‘That's great news,' said his mother.

‘What is it?' said his father.

‘It's barman at the Boroughbie Arms.' There was silence. ‘I know it's not a great job, but it'll earn me some money. You're always telling me I should go out and get a job, aren't you?'

‘You've had a whole year to think about these things,' said his father. ‘We were hoping that now you would have a definite idea of what you wanted to do, no more of this drifting.'

‘I thought you'd be pleased,' said Anthony.

‘It's good that you've found something,' said his mother encouragingly.

‘But it's not exactly got prospects, has it?' said Rachel. ‘Are you sure it's what you want to do?'

‘It's not for the rest of my life,' said Anthony. He felt like shouting, but his mother was already looking upset and he didn't want to make things worse. It was the first times he had ventured downstairs. ‘It's just something to be going on with, until I find what I want to do.'

‘I went to see Rupert Randall today,' said Rachel.

It was such an unexpected turn in the conversation that it took Anthony a moment to realise who she was referring to. ‘
You
went to see Rupert Randall?'

‘Ye-es.' For once Rachel looked slightly abashed. Their parents were just looking puzzled. ‘I saw that card he gave you and I thought, well, I just popped in to have a look for myself. He does really amazing stuff, doesn't he?'

‘Yeah. I said.'

‘And I got talking to him and he just happened to say that if you were interested in learning about what he does you could go and spend some time with him …'

The rush of fury was so strong and sudden that for the first time in his life Anthony understood the term ‘seeing red'. ‘You did what?' How dare Rachel interfere?

‘I just thought …'

‘I'm not a child!' He was really shouting this time. ‘I don't need you to go arranging things for me. I can arrange things for myself. I've got myself a job in the hotel, haven't I? I don't need to go hanging around some loser artist!' What made it worse was this was exactly the thing he most wanted to do.

‘Don't speak to your sister like that,' said his father. ‘She's only trying to help.'

Anthony glared at them all. ‘Can't you get it into your head, I don't need any help?' He stood up suddenly, knocking his chair over. ‘I wish you'd never come home.' He was pleased to see that Rachel looked quite aghast at the scene she had provoked. ‘I'm not going anywhere near Rupert Randall, and
you
can tell him so.'

Chapter Eleven

Maggie hated it when the family argued. She was very lucky, it didn't happen often. Rachel was a lovely girl, and Anthony seemed to be growing up at last, even though he and Rachel didn't always see eye to eye. He'd get over this latest tiff, she was sure. She didn't know why Rachel was so keen for her brother to visit this artist man, but if she thought it was a good idea no doubt it was. Maggie would wait until Anthony had recovered from his temper and drop a word or two of encouragement in his ear. He usually responded well to that. Rachel still had to learn that a forthright approach wasn't always the most successful one.

Maggie sighed quietly. She felt rather stiff in the mornings these days. It was such a shame those new drugs had disagreed with her: they had reduced the aches in her joints so much she had hardly noticed them any more. Now the pain was as bad as it had ever been, especially first thing.

She was still feeling very tired as well, but she hoped that was just the result of the anaemia they had picked up on in the hospital. The staff had been so good to her at the Infirmary, she was really grateful to them, although she would be glad to see a little less of the place than she had over the last few months. At least John was back to full health now. She knew he worried about her, but there was really no need. As long as he was fit and Rachel was prepared to stay home and help, everything would be fine. Not that she expected Rachel to stay home forever, but she was enjoying the company of her daughter whilst she had it.

By the time Maggie had got herself up and dressed she was the only one at home. Anthony had gone off to the hotel, Rachel was doing the weekly food shop and John was collecting a couple of chihuahuas from their housebound owner. The owner was going into hospital for a little operation and the dogs were to come to the Collingtons. They had never had chihuahuas in before and Maggie was looking forward to meeting them.

She strapped the new splints around her wrists. That nice young physiotherapist had said this might make movement easier for her, and she had been right. The heavier side of housework was still a struggle, but she could do most other things. Now Rachel was taking over some of her outdoor duties she was remembering how much she had used to enjoy herself in the kitchen, experimenting with new dishes. She decided to get out that wonderful new mixer John had bought her for Christmas and see what she might make today.

She was roused from the depths of a recipe book by a loud banging on the door.

Maggie hurried to open it, puzzled as to who it could be, and found Freddy Smith on the doorstep. He had a piece of string around the neck of a skinny black and tan dog, and an expression of fury on his face.

‘Is this yours?' he demanded without preamble.

Maggie frowned down at the dog. The poor thing was shivering.

‘No, I …'

He interrupted before she could say more. ‘I don't see who else's it can be, if it isn't yours. We're not exactly close to the town here, are we? One of the reasons I moved here, less likelihood of losers from a housing scheme letting their dogs roam free on my land. Little did I know there'd be a business like
yours
on my doorstep.'

Maggie was taken back by his anger. They had tried to make friends with the man when he moved into the neighbouring farm a year or so after their own arrival, but he had always seemed to want to keep himself to himself. Gemma was a nice enough girl and Maggie liked to mother her when she got the chance, but if her father didn't want to be sociable, the Collingtons were perfectly happy to respect his wishes.

She smiled her best smile. ‘I'm afraid I really don't know this dog, but I'll take her off your hands if you want. Poor thing looks like she could do with a square meal, doesn't she? Then I'll contact the police and the rescue centre and see if anyone knows where she's from.'

‘You're saying she's not from here?' demanded the man with a sneer on his dark face.

‘We're a dog kennels, not a rescue centre,' said Maggie, puzzled.

‘Ah, but I know you take strays too, don't tell me any different. I've heard all about you. What do your paying customers think about having their little darlings side by side with some flea-bitten mongrel?'

‘We …' Maggie wondered what on earth he was talking about. And then she recalled they had very occasionally taken a dog from the rescue centre in Dumfries. It only happened if the centre was absolutely full, and if the Collingtons had a kennel free, and then only for a dog that had had a full health check and all its vaccinations. She wondered how Freddy Smith had heard about this. She hoped it wouldn't upset any of their clients. She and John had thought long and hard before offering to do it, but they knew how Faye struggled to keep the rescue centre going and had wanted to help if they could. She said gently, ‘That only happens very occasionally, and I can assure you that if we do have a dog here it wouldn't be allowed to run off. This one I've never seen before, but, as I said, I'll be happy to take her off your hands.'

Freddy's anger seemed to have abated somewhat and he looked slightly abashed. ‘I was sure it would be yours. I met your daughter a while back, letting dogs run off their leads, so I know it happens. It's not good enough you know …'

Maggie held out her hand for the string. ‘Thanks for bringing her down,' she said. ‘I'm sorry you were inconvenienced. I'll take care of her now, shall I?' She hated unpleasantness and just wanted this conversation to be over.

‘If you want,' said the man reluctantly. He let her take the make-shift leash and the dog began to faun around Maggie's legs. ‘It better not happen again,' said the man as he turned to go. ‘I'll have something to say if it does, so I will.' Clearly he still wasn't convinced Maggie was telling the truth.

That, more than anything, annoyed her. But she bit her lip, called a polite goodbye, and withdrew into the house with the dog.

She walked carefully back to the kitchen. She had rushed to the door without her stick and the last thing she needed was to take a tumble. ‘Well, my darling,' she said to the little dog who was still trying to ingratiate herself. ‘How about a nice bowl of milk and biscuits? Then I'll see what we can do for you.'

She ran her hands over the dog's fur. Although it was thin, it appeared well cared for. There was no collar, but she wouldn't be surprised to find a family were desperately looking for the animal even now. Some dogs just were thin, and this one was certainly friendly. What a silly man Freddy Smith was, making such a fuss over nothing.

The weather, which had been so good for so long, took a sudden and decided turn for the worse. Heavy rain on the Wednesday night turned to a steady drizzle on Thursday. Rachel knew it was good for the land but it made cleaning, feeding, and walking the dogs much more of a chore.

‘We've been spoilt,' she said as she came in for lunch, her waterproof dripping.

‘Hang that in the porch, please,' said her mother. ‘I've already mopped the floor twice today.'

‘You should let me or Anthony do the mopping …'

‘Yes, dear. But don't you think you do enough?'

‘Dad's doing lots,' said Rachel quickly. She was worried he might be doing too much too soon on his weak ankle, but he enjoyed being out and about so much she didn't like to protest.

‘You're still doing all the heavy work. Now come and sit down, I've made a nice broth to warm you up.'

‘Lovely.' Rachel was delighted with how well her mother had recovered from the scare she had given them all. It was lovely to see her pottering about in the kitchen again. ‘Smells delicious. Dad'll be in shortly.' Rachel considered her mother, recognising the expression on her face. ‘You're missing Una, aren't you?'

Una was the black and tan mongrel Freddy Smith had kindly deposited on them the previous day. Rachel suspected her mother had rather fallen in love with the animal, who certainly knew how to appeal to soft-hearted humans. Unfortunately the dog's owners had been to collect her that morning and Maggie seemed to be missing the company. ‘I'll bring one of the other dogs down for you, shall I?'

‘I'm perfectly all right,' said Maggie, looking embarrassed. ‘But she was a love, wasn't she? That poor young couple, they were so apologetic. They'd been walking her in the Netherton Forest and she'd slipped her lead and gone off after a deer. She was a rescue dog, did you hear that? They'd got her from Edinburgh. They'll make sure they tighten up her collar next time!'

‘I'm sure they will. She was a nice wee thing.' Rachel had wondered fleetingly about adopting the dog herself, if the owner hadn't been found. But that wasn't to be. ‘Where's Anthony?'

‘He's gone into town. I said he could borrow my car. He seems to be enjoying his training sessions at the hotel.'

‘Mmm.' The two women looked at each other and both decided to say no more. There wasn't a lot they could do to change Anthony's mind at the moment, and sometimes even Rachel realised it was better to let things lie.

‘Did I tell you I'd be eating out tonight?' said Rachel casually.

‘With that nice Mr Milligan. Yes, you did.' Her mother cheered up immediately. ‘I'm glad you and he are getting friendly. Such a nice man.'

‘That's what you say about everyone,' said Rachel.

‘And it's usually true. What time will you be off?'

‘I was supposed to be going late afternoon so we could take the dogs for a walk, but I can't see that being much fun in this weather.' Rachel frowned out of the window at the steadily falling rain. She had been looking forward to an excursion with Philip and Amelia and Bill and Ben.

‘Perhaps it'll clear up,' said her mother, ever the optimist. ‘And before I forget, I've been looking out the jam I made last year and there's a nice pot of blackcurrant you can take with you. Everybody likes a good homemade jam.'

‘Especially yours,' said Rachel, secretly amused. She could tell that her mother was going to do everything she could to win over that nice Mr Milligan. He seemed to have supplanted Charlie McArthur in her plans for her daughter. Rachel hoped that Charlie had got the message on Sunday she just wanted to be friends. The next problem was convincing her mother she also just wanted to be friends with Philip. It would be easier if she could convince herself, first.

Her father appeared at that moment, carrying a little Yorkshire terrier wrapped in a towel. ‘I thought Pixie might like to spend some time with you,' he said to his wife. Like Rachel, he must have noticed Maggie was missing her unexpected guest. He dried off the tiny creature and popped her down on the tiled floor. ‘She gets a bit intimidated by those boxers in the run next to her.'

‘Pixie's perfectly able to stand up for herself,' said Maggie Collington, indicating to the dog that she was welcome on her lap. The dog needed no second invitation. She leapt up, turned around three times, and then settled down, her dark little eyes gleaming at Rachel as though to say ‘See, I'm special'.

‘How're you going to eat your lunch with her there?' said Rachel, unable to resist a smile.

‘She'll go down in a minute. Isn't she a darling?'