The Laird of Lochandee (27 page)

‘Would you have married Mr Beattie if he had refused to stay here with you, Auntie Alice?' Bridie persisted.

‘Probably not.' Alice's eyes took on a dreamy, distant look. ‘But first love … So tender and strong and true … I might have given life itself had there been any possibility …' She was speaking very softly, more to herself than to Bridie. There was silence in the room. Bridie was far too sensitive to pry further. She felt she had shared a rare moment – possibly a confidence not meant for human ears.

It was one of several cherished, half-forgotten memories, shared by Alice as her life advanced. Bridie on the threshold of womanhood was a patient listener. During the winter of 1937, Alice suffered two severe attacks of bronchitis. During her recuperation there was nothing she loved more than to have Bridie read to her in the hour before she settled to sleep, with the flickering flames sending shadows up the bedroom walls and the shaded light of the new electric lamp casting a halo around Bridie's shining dark brown hair.

Conan, on the other hand, alarmed her a little with his youthful enthusiasms and robust criticism of public leaders. The previous year the Olympic Games had been held in Berlin to the glorification of the Nazi regime, but when Jesse Owens had won four gold medals and broken two world records, the Nazi leader, Adolph Hitler, had refused to shake his hand.

‘And why?' Conan had stormed indignantly, ‘Because he's black. What right has this man Hitler to decide what colour a man's skin should be? Or what religion he should follow?'

‘Calm down!' Ross had commanded irritably. ‘Whatever a German man chooses to do, it's not our affair. He is no concern of ours.'

‘Can you be sure of that, Father? If he gets away with all his ideas he may choose to rule the world.'

‘Don't talk nonsense!' Ross snapped. He was often impatient with his son's avid reading of the newspapers.

In Alice's opinion the year had ended even more depressingly than anyone could have foreseen with the abdication of the Prince of Wales for the sake of his beloved Mrs Simpson. Alice had been brought up with the strongest sense of duty. She herself had found the strength to utter that short, but powerful word “no”. It was her belief that no woman worth her salt would have allowed a man to give up his title and position – his kingdom.

So as Alice lay recovering during the dark winter days she had plenty of time to reflect on the events of the year which was drawing to a close. The country had a new King and Queen and two young princesses, and the king's elder brother had married Mrs Simpson and gone to live in France. Conan reported scathingly that they had been greeted by the Nazi leaders like long-lost friends, according to an article in one of the daily newspapers.

The Government had a new Prime Minister in the form of Neville Chamberlain. His burden was a heavy one with hungry, angry marchers in Britain, and much unrest abroad.

Conan was eager to join a group of boys training in a junior defence league, but his work on the farm, after school and at weekends permitted little time for such activities. Both Rachel and Ross were adamant in this. Conan knew that it was only his mother's influence which had allowed him to stay on at school after his fourteenth birthday. Later it transpired it was the death of a boy entirely unknown to him which decided Conan's immediate future

Chapter Twenty-seven

T
HE
J
ANUARY MORNING WAS
crisp and crystal clear. Rachel gazed across the patchwork of fields and hedges which sloped away from the house and steading of The Glens of Lochandee. She loved the familiar scene in all its seasons but on this particular morning she breathed in deeply, filling her lungs with ice cold air, watching like a child as her breath rose in a cloud before her face. Overnight the familiar green and brown world had been transformed into a fairy tale wonderland. Every bough and twig, every pebble and blade of grass had been painted with glistening frost, sparkling in the morning sun as brightly as a thousand diamond tiaras.

‘What is so entrancing?' Ross grinned, coming to where she stood, gazing down the glen, to the Solway Firth glinting in the distance, with the purple outline of the Galloway hills beyond. Today they were etched sharply on the canvas of the sky, their outline faintly edged in gold from the morning sun. There were days, sometimes weeks, when the hills across the Firth were not visible at all.

‘It's all so beautiful,' Rachel breathed, stretching her arms in a wide embrace. ‘No human artist could ever create anything so lovely.'

Ross's face softened. He smiled back, their eyes meeting, holding, sharing the moment.

‘Ah, Rachel.' His voice was husky. ‘You're still as enthralled by the simple things around us – just as you were the first time we climbed the hill together, back at Windlebrae. Do you remember?'

‘Do you think I could forget?' She smiled up at him, the dimple flashing as it always did when she was happy. Automatically their fingers entwined as they had all those years ago. Rachel sighed softly. Even though they argued quite fiercely sometimes, they still loved each other, still had these special moments to treasure and remember. They were more precious than gold or jewels – or a crown and a kingdom.

At midday Alice greeted them with the news that two boys had drowned while skating on the frozen loch.

‘Beth telephoned from the village to tell us. She says everyone there is horrified by the tragedy. There is a rumour that one of the boys may be Lady Lindsay's son.'

‘Oh no! Surely not.' Rachel's eyes were round with dismay. ‘She has had so much grief already.' Stories were rife but it was several days before the identities were confirmed as Lady Lindsay's eldest son and his cousin. Although the boy was heir to the estate, the funeral was private. None of the tenants attended as they had attended the funerals of his father and grandfather.

Some weeks later a stranger came to The Glens of Lochandee. He introduced himself as Allan Maitland, brother of Lady Lindsay.

‘My sister is too distraught to visit her tenants in person, but she wanted you to know of her plans as soon as possible.'

‘Plans?' Ross tensed.

‘I'm afraid the estate will have to be sold.'

‘Oh no!' Alice gasped in real distress.

‘I fear there is little option. There were still debts to pay following Lord Lindsay's death. The loss of his heir so soon after has dealt a crippling blow. My sister and her younger son will move north to live with my father. The whole estate will be put on the market within six months..'

‘Thank you for telling us,' Ross said quietly but his voice was hoarse, his face pale. Suddenly everything he had worked for, all his plans for his family, all his ambitions seemed to have been swept from under his feet as easily as a child's sandcastle before the morning tide.

‘There are a few tenants whom my sister valued highly. Had it been possible she would have given you longer notice, even a chance to buy the land gradually. As it is …' he shrugged helplessly. ‘All those who rent cottages or shops in Lochandee village will be given an opportunity to purchase their own homes, but time is short. We regret there will be few who can take up the offer.'

Before leaving he expressed his sister's bitter regret once more. Ross and Rachel had no doubt he was sincere but it did nothing to alleviate their anxiety. As for Alice, the thought of leaving her beloved Glens of Lochandee at this late stage in her life grieved her sorely.

Her health did not improve. The doctor blamed the effects of the bronchitis but Rachel knew it was more than that. She seemed to have lost the will to live and showed little interest in her surroundings.

‘Whatever happens you will always have a home with us,' Rachel assured her gently. ‘You have been the best friend Ross and I have ever had – as close as a mother to both of us.'

‘Thank you, Rachel dear. I believe that is the nicest compliment anyone has ever paid me.'

‘We must hope the new Laird will renew our leases and not demand rents we cannot pay.'

‘Yes, we can only hope, and pray.' Alice sighed heavily. ‘Everything seems so insecure. The very fireside we sit by is part of the farm. If we cannot farm the land I cannot keep my home either.' She shook her grey head wearily. ‘Then there's Sandy Kidd and his family, and Bill Carr and Emmie. They all depend on us for their homes and work …'

Ross could not sleep at nights. Part of him felt sick with worry, but there was a wild idea which kept returning to his mind. Eventually he decided he had nothing to lose. He had dealt with the bank in Lockerbie a few times in the past. He made an appointment to see the manager.

Mr Hubert Harrison was short and square in a dark pin-striped suit. This, the pince-nez stuck on the end of his nose, and the big mahogany desk all combined to intimidate Ross. The gloomy ochre walls with their dark oil paintings of previous bank officials did nothing to calm him. He felt he would rather face a bad-tempered bull any day. Animals he could handle, but bank managers were an unknown species to him.

Nothing for it but to take the bull by the horns, he decided. The irony of the thought brought a wry glint to his blue eyes.

‘It's a light-hearted matter you wish to discuss, Mr er … ugh Maxwell?' Mr Harrison enquired stiffly.

‘No Sir!' Ross frowned. ‘I would like to buy a farm and I need to borrow money.'

‘And how much do you have already.'

‘None, Sir.'

‘None! Then we need not waste time – yours or mine.'

‘B-but I do have stock. Cows and sheep and three pairs of fine Clydesdale horses. They are all paid for. I have ploughed all our money back into the farm, mending fences, ditching, increasing the number of cows, keeping the buildings repaired when the landlord could not afford to do it.'

‘All of which makes the farm more valuable to a prospective landlord now, no doubt,' Henderson remarked dryly.

‘Why, yes. I suppose it does,' Ross agreed. ‘I had not considered that.'

‘You have no money in this bank. Do you owe any rent?'

‘No, certainly not.'

‘No need to be indignant. Most farmers are at least a year behind with their rent. What is the name of the farm?'

‘The Glens of Lochandee.'

‘Lochandee? But surely the Beatties are tenants there?'

‘Mrs Alice Beattie is a joint tenant.'

‘You have discussed this with her? I understood she was a woman with good sense, but apparently not.'

‘I have not discussed buying the farm with Mrs. Beattie,' Ross admitted, flushing. He felt like a naughty schoolboy who had not done his homework. ‘I did not want to add to Mrs Beattie's worries. The debt must be my own. She is not in good health.'

‘I see. She would be more worried if she heard the proposition you have put before me. No man in his senses would consider buying a farm at the present time. Certainly no bank would loan you money for such a crazy idea.' He pulled himself to his full height, which barely reached Ross's shoulder. ‘Good day to you.'

Ross was deeply depressed. His last hope was gone. It took two miserable weeks before Rachel could persuade him to confide in her. When he did she was silent with astonishment.

‘So you agree with him,' Ross muttered despondently. ‘He's a pompous, puffed-up pin-stripe. He needed to sit up straight just to peer over his shiny-topped desk.'

Whatever arguments they had had over Conan, Rachel had always supported him in his work, and in his plans for The Glens of Lochandee.

‘I did not say that, Ross. I am just so … so surprised. It is true that it would be hard to repay the money – but at least we have always managed to pay the rent on time, and usually find a little to carry out repairs and buy a horse or a couple of cows … I need time to … to take it in.'

As she deftly rolled the scone dough and placed the triangles on the girdle the following afternoon, Rachel confided the reason for Ross's depression to Alice. The older woman was sitting by the fire, swaying gently in the old rocking chair. It seemed to be her main pastime these days.

‘Buy Lochandee? Ross wanted to buy the farm himself?'

‘You do think it's a crazy idea then?' Rachel asked tensely.

‘It is a big risk. It would be a huge burden – for both of you. Prices are so low for everything we produce. There would be interest to pay, as well as repaying the loan. If you fell behind with that, the bank would re-possess the farm. Ross could be left with a debt and nothing to show for it – not even a job.'

‘But we love The Glens of Lochandee,' Rachel protested brokenly. ‘He has worked so hard …'

‘You have both worked hard.' Alice's voice was gentle. ‘I know you have come to love this place as much as I do. My life is drawing to a close now, but you … you are young, Rachel, with most of your life before you.'

‘It was Conan's future I was thinking of, too. I wondered if I should offer Ross the legacy which Sam Dewar left him. After all it is home to all of us. I am the main trustee. Do you think I should be taking too big a risk with his inheritance?'

‘I had forgotten about that!' Alice's gaze was more alert than it had been since the day they heard the estate was to be sold. ‘I just don't know …' she said slowly. She fell silent and Rachel continued with the baking.

When Ross and Rachel returned to the house after the milking was finished that evening Alice had the supper ready and the fire blazing merrily. These were tasks she had not attempted since her last illness. There was a glint in her eyes they had not seen for a long time and it cheered them both.

Alice waited until Conan and Bridie had gone to bed and Alfie had returned to the bothy.

‘I want to talk to you both,' she said, ‘about the future. The future for all of us. The future for Lochandee. Rachel told me you went to see the bank manager, Ross.'

‘Yes. He thought I was crazy to think of buying land,' Ross admitted dejectedly. ‘I suppose we shall just have to pray someone will buy it and let it out to us again, and hope we can pay the rent he demands.'

‘I do not think it was such a crazy idea, if you are both sure it is what you want to do for the rest of your lives. Both of you?'

‘It is,' they said in unison – and turned to smile at each other as the words came spontaneously.

‘How much did Lady Lindsay's brother say they wanted for the land?'

‘Twenty pounds an acre,' Ross answered flatly. ‘I suppose you are right, we should be paying it off for the rest of our lives. Maybe I am crazy, as Mr Harrison says.'

‘I think you should see my solicitor, Mr Niven,' Alice suggested. ‘The trustees for the estate will probably take less, especially for the higher land which was Nether Lochandee. It has been badly neglected. We are sitting tenants too. Mr Niven will know what needs to done. He will offer a price on our behalf. Rachel is willing to put in Conan's legacy so I...'

‘Well most of it,' Rachel amended, flushing. ‘We have not discussed it yet.' She threw Ross an apologetic glance, but she need not have worried. His eyes were shining.

‘You would do that?'

‘We could put a thousand pounds towards a deposit on the land and leave a hundred and eighty nine pounds in the bank.'

‘And I will put in the remainder of my grandmother's legacy. Nine hundred and fifty pounds,' Alice said.

Ross stared at her speechlessly.

‘I-we … I can't take your money – but I do thank you for the offer of it. It is wonderful to know you have faith in me – both of you,' He turned to Rachel with a beaming smile.

‘Well your offer may not be accepted, but at least you will have tried. If you get it, then I insist on putting in my savings too.' She silenced Ross's protest with an imperious wave of her hand. ‘Remember Ross, The Glens of Lochandee claimed my heart long ago. The thought of leaving this house was breaking my very spirit. Now you have offered fresh hope – a future to plan. You will still need a substantial loan but there are other banks. Mr Niven will probably recommend you go to Dumfries and he will know which one you should try first. He may even speak on your behalf. I shall write him a letter so that he knows you have all my support.'

It was the end of the May term. Ross was the jubilant new owner of The Glens of Lochandee. It was true that he now had a bank loan of two thousand five hundred pounds, as well as owing money to Alice, and to Conan's Trust fund. He was not sure how he and Rachel would ever repay it, as well as the interest, but he was determined to try. Mr Niven had been filled with doubts. Ross knew it was only Alice Beattie's staunch recommendation which had persuaded the old solicitor to act for him.

Rachel wrote to Willie and Ruth, as well as to Meg, jubilantly telling them their news. She was dismayed when the replies came. Meg and Willie were filled with doubts, almost bordering on recrimination in Meg's case. It was clear she thought Conan's legacy should not have been put at risk. Peter, on the other hand felt it was a wise investment to secure their home and their livelihood. Ruth reported that her father felt they had done well and he wished them every success.

‘It's plain to see it's those who know least about farming who are in favour,' Ross commented gloomily. ‘We shall have to work even harder and prove Meg and Willie wrong. Conan must leave school. We shall need his help.'