Rachel's Coming Home (3 page)

‘Couldn't Colin come home?'

‘Colin will lose his job if he takes any more time off. His employers pay well but they're not very understanding. I'm not asking much, Phil. It would just be a month or two.'

‘A month or two!'

‘Please, Phil.' Alison put out a hand to touch his. Her skin was dry and almost translucently white. She looked so frail that Philip was afraid to argue with her.

‘Well I suppose I could think about it …'

‘Thank you. I knew I could count on you. I'll call Amelia down, shall I, and then we can sort out the details?'

Rachel was making a cake when the policeman phoned. There were hundreds of more important things she should be doing but her mother had taken it into her head that they couldn't welcome her father home without a cake, and as she was clearly too tired and worried to do it herself, the task had fallen to Rachel. She didn't mind. She enjoyed baking and thought this might be a useful first step in encouraging her mother to leave things to her.

She was enjoying the smell of the coffee-flavoured mixture and the feel of the wooden spoon in her hands when the telephone rang. She had persuaded her mother to have a lie down and hurried to pick it up before it disturbed her.

‘This is Sergeant McFarlane,' said a deep voice. ‘I have a Mr Anthony Collington here. He has given me this number to contact his mother, Mrs Maggie Collington.'

He left a weighty pause.

Rachel's first feeling was relief. She had persuaded her mother that it really wasn't anything to worry about, if an eighteen-year-old didn't turn up for a few hours after a rock concert, but the longer the silence lasted the more concerned she had become.

‘Is he all right?' she asked quickly.

‘To whom am I speaking?'

‘Rachel Collington, his sister.' Already the relief was fading into concern. Why on earth were the police phoning? ‘Is he in trouble? What's happened?'

Rachel could hear Anthony's voice in the background, arguing to be allowed to speak. That was a good sign, as it meant he was well enough to argue.

The man succeeding in keeping the phone from Anthony. He said ponderously, ‘I was hoping to speak to Mrs Collington.'

‘My mother isn't here at the moment,' said Rachel. ‘I'm Anthony's older sister. Perhaps I can help?'

‘We're at the police station in Boroughbie. Perhaps you could come here? Then we can explain what it is all about.'

‘You're holding Anthony at the police station?' Rachel almost dropped the phone in her alarm. ‘What has he done? Goodness …'

‘Are you able to come here?'

‘Yes. Yes, of course. I'll be there in fifteen minutes.'

It was fortunate she hadn't yet put the cake in the oven. She pushed the mixing bowl to one side and hoped that she wouldn't be away too long. Then she dashed to the little downstairs toilet and washed her hands and checked her appearance. It was a good thing she did so. The floury smudge on her forehead would not have impressed a policeman. Then she scribbled a note to her mother and departed.

Rachel tried to make sense of the phone conversation as she drove her little car along the winding country road. Boroughbie was where she would have expected Anthony to phone from, if he had got the train back from Glasgow and didn't want to wait for one of the infrequent buses that passed their cottage. Why the police were involved she couldn't fathom. But she knew that she had to sort it out before her parents heard. They had more than enough to worry about.

A burly policeman led Rachel through to a small room at the rear of the police station. Anthony was sitting on a plastic chair, wearing a disgruntled expression, shoulders hunched. Rachel gave him a brief hug. ‘I'm so pleased to see you,' she whispered.

Anthony said nothing.

The policeman cleared his throat. ‘We brought young Mr Collington here as there has been a difficulty with the payment – or rather non-payment – of a train fare.' He sounded deeply disapproving.

‘Anthony didn't pay his train fare?'

‘That's right. A very serious matter. Something we're trying to crack down on.'

‘Yes, of course,' said Rachel, eyeing her brother.

‘My wallet was stolen,' he said. ‘I tried to explain to them.'

‘Theft of a wallet is also a very serious matter. If you had reported that to the police in Glasgow none of this need have happened.'

The man spoke ponderously but from the glance he cast in her direction Rachel suddenly realised he wasn't as angry as his words might have indicated.

‘I'm sure Anthony is very sorry it has happened, aren't you, Anthony?' she said encouragingly.

‘Of course I am,' said her brother. He glared at the policeman. ‘I've said so twenty times already, haven't I?' Rachel wished he had tried to sound a little more remorseful.

Fortunately, after more disapproval from the policeman, and further explanation and a muttered apology from Anthony, an agreement was reached that the fine would be paid but no charges pressed. Rachel suspected this was the outcome the police had wanted all along. Yes, Anthony had broken the law and, yes, he had been a fool, but this was a first offence. The matter of an unpaid seven-pound rail ticket was to be viewed as silliness rather than malicious theft. Rachel impressed on him how seriously she took the incident, mixing dismay and anger in her tone, and assured him that it wouldn't happen again.

She couldn't understand why Anthony had done this. Why hadn't he just phoned? She really didn't think a flat mobile battery was reason enough. ‘Couldn't you have asked someone if you could borrow their phone? Or you could have made a reverse charges call from a phone box.' From the blank look on his face, clearly he hadn't thought of either of those things. She paid the cost of the ticket, paid the fine, and did her best to placate the disapproving police officer. It would have been nice if Anthony had shown a little more contrition, but he merely looked sulky. She sighed deeply as she finally drove away with him in her car.

‘I can't believe you did that,' she said.

Anthony hunched his shoulders and looked gloomily out of the side window. He seemed very tall all of a sudden, although still slightly built. ‘You won't tell Mum, will you?' he said in an undertone.

‘No, I won't tell Mum. Or Dad. But Anthony, you really need to sort yourself out. You're eighteen, you need to grow up.'

He said nothing and with an effort Rachel managed to hold her tongue. She hoped that he was sorry and embarrassed about what had happened and that he was just having problems expressing himself. She didn't teach youngsters of his age, but she knew enough about teenage boys to know that communication wasn't their forte.

One thing was clear. It wasn't just her parents who needed Rachel to take a hand in their lives. Anthony most certainly needed it too. What a good thing she had come home.

Chapter Three

After the excitement of the afternoon Rachel was very pleased the rest of the day passed quietly. Her mother was rejuvenated by her nap and in the evening the two of them went to the hospital to visit her father. He was sitting up in bed, rather pale but very jolly.

‘Lovely to see you, my dear,' he said when she bent to kiss his cheek. Rachel felt a lump in her throat. It was good to see him too, but he seemed rather wan, with the newly-plastered ankle poking awkwardly outside the covers.

‘Have they said whether you can come home tomorrow?' asked her mother, fussing around, straightening the bedclothes and fluffing the pillows. It reminded Rachel so much of being ill and pampered as a child that she felt another lump forming.

‘It's looking hopeful,' said her father heartily. ‘They were worried about that temperature I was running yesterday but that's gone down nicely. If it stays that way tomorrow I can come home on Monday.'

‘That's excellent,' said Rachel. ‘Mum's got everything ready for you and we can't wait to have you back.'

‘I hope your mother isn't working herself too hard.' Rachel's father looked anxiously from his daughter to his wife.

‘Of course I'm not,' said his wife.

‘Now I'm home, she won't need to,' said Rachel firmly. ‘Anthony and I will do all the heavy work between us.'

‘Does Anthony know this?' said her father with a faint smile.

‘I mentioned it to him,' said Rachel. ‘And
I'm
really looking forward to it. You should see the two collies that came in today, Dad. Real darlings. I'm going to take them for a long ramble on the hill tomorrow; they look like the sort who need their exercise. And Anthony has agreed to do a deep clean of the two kennels you were working on when you had your fall, Dad.' Anthony hadn't agreed willingly to this, but he had been too cowed by his experiences with the police to refuse. Rachel intended to make the most of his acquiescence.

Her mother was quiet on the way home from the hospital. When they got in Rachel made a pot of tea and they took their normal seats at the kitchen table. There was no sign of Anthony.

‘It's good Dad's going to be discharged soon,' said Rachel encouragingly. ‘He seems to be pulling through very well.'

‘Yes.' Her mother sighed softly and patted her curls, a mannerism which appeared when something was worrying her. Rachel noticed with a pang that the blonde hair, so like her own, was fading now to grey.

‘What is it, Mum?'

‘It's the kennels,' said her mother at last. She patted Rachel's arm. ‘I know you said you would help and you mean it, but we can't let you take it on. We haven't liked to say but the business hasn't been as profitable as we had hoped. We wouldn't be able to pay you.'

‘I don't expect to be paid,' said Rachel, horrified. ‘If I can have my bed and board I'll be more than happy. I've a bit of money put away if I need it, and I can always do supply teaching once the term starts.'

‘It's not right,' said her mother, shaking her head sadly. ‘It's not what we wanted for you.'

‘But Mum, I'm happy to be home,' insisted Rachel. How could she make her parents understand that she was doing this for herself as well as for them?

‘And we're happy to have you,' said her mother, but she still sounded worried. ‘The thing is,' she began, and then paused. ‘The thing is, we haven't liked to tell anyone, but there have been some problems with the kennels over the last few months.'

‘What kind of problems?' said Rachel, puzzled. ‘I thought your bookings were going really well.'

‘Up to last year they were. But recently we've had an unannounced inspection from the animal welfare people, and then one or two clients have cancelled. No one we know well, but it's made us wonder. It's almost as though someone has been putting out rumours about us, trying to cause difficulties.'

‘No, surely not.' Rachel couldn't believe anyone would wish harm on her warm, hard-working parents. The thought was very upsetting. She had always been sure that everyone knew what lovely people her parents were. ‘I mean, who could it be? You haven't upset anyone, have you? And nobody objected when you first started up the business. Why would this happen now?'

‘We don't know,' said her mother, shaking her head sadly. ‘We don't know anything for sure, but I felt I should tell you. It's been a worry for us, as you can imagine. It's been distracting your father. He's had one or two little accidents lately, and then that bad fall. I'm sure the worry is making him careless.'

‘Well I'm here now,' said Rachel. ‘And if anything untoward is going on, I'm going to find out what it is.'

On Sunday Rachel took Bill and Ben, the two collie dogs, for the walk she had promised herself in the hills. She needed the solitude to mull over her mother's news. It was difficult to believe that someone would be targeting her parents, trying to ruin their business. The more she thought about it, the more convinced she became that it was just a series of coincidences: the inspections, the cancellations. But she determined to keep her eyes and ears open and do whatever she could to build up the kennels' reputation once again.

The two border collie dogs were gorgeous. Rachel had never seen ones with such thick, soft fur, their chocolate-brown eyes so bright. Bill and Ben didn't seem special enough names for them. ‘I should address you as William and Benjamin, at the very least,' she said to them, laying a hand on each silky head. They lolled their tongues in agreement.

It was wonderful to be out here. Rachel had enjoyed her life in the city and made the most of the galleries, cinemas, and theatres it had to offer, but she truly preferred the outdoors. As she climbed higher amongst the rolling green-brown hills, her spirits began to rise. The air was fresh and warm with just the slightest breeze. The half-grown lambs lumbered after their mothers and the pewits and curlews called. She allowed the two dogs to tow her along by their leads and took it all in.

‘I wonder if you would like to run free?' she said to them as they climbed the stile over the fence that separated the fields from the high hills beyond. There were no sheep here and she was fairly confident the dogs would not stray far. ‘Let's give it a try, shall we?'

She unclasped their leads and turned to watch them chase their tails, madly capering about in the afternoon sunshine, toppling over each other. They came back to her immediately after she said a word, pushing their heads against her hand and wagging their feathered tails. No danger of them running off at all.

Far below she could see the tiny shape of her parents' cottage with the kennels at the rear. In the five years since the business had opened the kennels and runs had weathered to fit in to the landscape around. Her mother had been keen to plant trees and bushes so that they did not stand out starkly, and she had succeeded. The little huddle of buildings looked great from here, just what it was, a successful small business set in this wonderful countryside. At least, that was what it would be again, soon.