The Legacy of Lochandee (22 page)

‘I've considered that.'

‘I don't like the idea of you having a bank loan, lassie, and I'd feel a lot happier if you discussed it with Nick and see whether he agrees with your plans.'

‘I would discuss it with him, but he's not happy in his own business. If he thought I had a bank loan, he might feel he had to stay in partnership with Conan, just to support me. Don't you see?'

‘I suppose so. Your mum is convinced Nick and Conan will split up and she hopes they do it before they fall out and force a sale of the business. They were good friends. Though friendship isn't always the best basis for a business partnership.'

‘I think they both see that now but neither of them can afford to buy the share off the other and still stay in business, even on a smaller scale.'

‘So you'll not consult Nick before you arrange the bank loan then?'

‘You mean …? You really will let me buy your share, Dad?' Bridie's eyes were shining.

‘Aye, I think so ….' Ross was frowning. ‘Mr Niven thought it was not such a bad idea. As for your friend …' he smiled and his blue eyes crinkled. ‘… she said I didn't appreciate what a capable and intelligent daughter I had. She also reminded me that you left school to work at home when we most needed you, and Conan didn't want to farm. She obviously believes I owe you something, lassie, and she's right. I'll take the cows as part of my share and that leaves you to take out a long-term loan to buy my half of the land.'

‘But there's the two tractors and the horses, as well as the poultry and pigs and all the equipment.'

‘We already have enough pigs and poultry at Nether Rullion. Anyway you've built them up yourself here. We don't need the horses either. As far as the tractors and the men are concerned, I hope we can still join up and help each other at times like this, hay and harvest and so on?'

‘Of course we can!'

‘In that case, you may as well keep the two tractors that are here. They're older than the ones at Nether Rullion but you've got a good mechanic to keep them going for you,' Ross chuckled. ‘Nick really understands machines, like I understand cows. You've got a good husband, lassie.'

‘I know,' Bridie smiled a small secret smile. If her suspicions proved correct, her father would think even more of his son-in-law soon.

‘So you can pay a visit to Mr Craig at the bank and tell him you need a loan for my half of the Lochandee land, but nothing more. That will be more of a burden than I approve of as it is. I'll make an appointment for us to see Mr Niven and he'll get the deeds changed into your name.'

‘Oh, Dad …' Bridie didn't know whether to laugh or cry and she hugged him tightly instead.

‘There, there, lassie,' Ross said gruffly, stroking her soft, shining curls as though she was still his little girl. In his own heart he knew she always would be and he hated the thought of her being burdened with a huge debt, yet Rachel felt Bridie wanted – even needed – the challenge. ‘I think it might work out for the best all round if your mother is right, and she usually is. Don't tell her I said so, mind!'

‘I won't.' Bridie chuckled. Her mother and father still liked to tease each other. ‘I'll go and see Mr Craig tomorrow, if I can get an appointment. Maybe I'll call in to see Fiona on the way home. I'm worried about Beth and I thought Fiona might know what's bothering her.'

Chapter Twenty-three

B
RIDIE WAS JUBILANT WHEN
she came out of the bank. Mr Craig had promised to get an agreement drawn up without delay. As soon as she had signed it he would transfer the agreed sum to her father's account. She frowned, wondering if she had been right to agree that the bank should keep the deeds for the land as security, after they had been changed into her name. Perhaps there was no choice. She might ask Fiona about that, and she would consult Mr Niven if she wasn't sure.

Her face sobered as she drove into Lochandee village and turned down towards Fiona's house. It really was one of the nicest houses in the village and Fiona kept it beautifully. As Bridie drew up she found her working in the garden, tying up some giant dahlias.

‘I never knew you liked gardening,' Bridie greeted her. ‘These are magnificent, and such rich colours.'

‘I'll pick you a bunch if you like, Bridie. It's such a shame they'll die overnight if we get a sharp frost. Mrs Simms, the minister's wife, asked if I would cut some tonight, just to make sure she has them for decorating the church for the harvest thanksgiving.'

‘Goodness me, yes, I'd forgotten it's on Sunday. So, when did you take up gardening?'

‘Only since I got this house. I'm learning as I go along, but I'm getting really interested, and I'm finding it a wonderful relaxation from all the things I usually think about or read.'

‘Mmm, I can believe that. What's that quotation again?' Bridie wrinkled her brow in thought.

“The kiss of the sun for pardon,

The song of the birds for mirth,

One is nearer God's heart in a garden

Than anywhere else on Earth.”

I think that's right, isn't it?'

‘I don't know, but they're lovely lines,' Fiona agreed. ‘You always were the one who wrote excellent essays and read such a lot when we were at school. Who wrote it, do you know?'

‘It was a lady called Dorothy Frances Gurney, I think.'

‘I was telling your father the other day that he underestimates your ability,' Fiona said thoughtfully. ‘I'm not sure whether I offended him.'

‘Oh, you didn't. He was telling me. In truth, he probably paid more attention to you. He's being very generous, I …'

‘Come on in and tell me all about it then, if you've time?'

Bridie followed Fiona round to the back door and into the kitchen.

‘I really came to talk to you about Beth. I'm worried about her and I thought you might know what's wrong?'

‘A-h, so you've noticed too. I wondered if it was just me imagining things, but recently Lucy has told me several times her mum is exhausted and lying down, or “she's just sitting in the chair staring into space”. I tried to talk to Beth about three weeks ago but she burst into tears and said there was nothing wrong with her, nothing at all. She picked up her things and rushed out. I thought I'd offended her but she came round the following evening and just carried on as though everything was normal, so I followed her example and I haven't dared mention anything since.'

‘Oh dear,' Bridie sighed. ‘I don't know how we can help until she confides in us. Mum has tried to talk to her too. After all, they've known each other since Beth went to Glens of Lochandee as a maid when she was 13 or 14.'

‘We must just be patient then and hope things come right for her,' Fiona said. ‘But we all need friends sometime and I've been glad of Beth popping across to see me. As for Lucy, she's such a bright, happy girl. I really enjoy her company …' Fiona frowned, evidently considering her thoughts. ‘There is just one thing … but really Beth asked me in confidence. At the time, I didn't think much about it and it's ages ago anyway, after I came back from the business about your mother's vase.'

‘You mean advice in your professional capacity?'

‘Yes, well sort of.'

‘Then it's better you don't tell me, Fiona. I understand, and I don't suppose it can have anything to do with Beth's present state.'

‘Perhaps not.'

Later when Bridie had gone, Fiona's thoughts returned to Beth. She recalled the night she had asked her to be Lucy's guardian. Perhaps she should mention it? Maybe she wanted to change her mind. I'll make an opportunity for Beth to talk about it again sometime, she resolved, and went back to her gardening, her thoughts on Lucy.

It was the beginning of November by the time the bank loan had finally been granted and Bridie began to feel Glens of Lochandee really belonged to her. Two weeks later her euphoria was shattered. She heard Nick slam the door of the little truck he always used for his work at the garage. The days were short now and it was nearly dark already. Bridie hummed as she put the finishing touches to the evening meal. She wanted it to be special tonight. A little smile lifted the corners of her mouth as she turned to greet Nick.

She knew something had upset him as soon as he entered the kitchen and she saw his face, white and stern, his dark eyes glittering with anger. He stared at her and stabbed a finger at his chest.

‘This is me! Nicholas Jones, your husband. My own man, I am, Bridget. Capable of supporting my own wife, I am! Some bloody waif you picked up off the street, you think? Is it then? Have you …?'

‘Nick? Wh-what's wrong …' Bridie stepped away from him. She had never seen him so angry, so cold.

‘Wrong? Wrong, is it?' He gave a bitter snort. ‘Telling you, I am. Your husband, is it? So I am the last to be knowing? Why …?'

‘B-but I only knew myself – for sure – today …' Bridie stammered.

‘Today? Duw! Stupid is it, you think? Not going to tell me, was it? You do want to shut me out of your life! Fine then, it is. Now I will go …'

‘Nick! Wait! I-I d-don't understand …' But he had turned on his heel and rushed out of the door again, slamming it behind him. Bridie slumped onto a chair. She felt as though she had been punched in the stomach. How could Nick have heard? Had he seen Doctor MacEwan at the garage? No one else knew. Her face paled. Did Nick think she was deliberately keeping her news to herself again? Even from him? Surely he didn't think she would risk losing another baby? He couldn't think that, could he? A baby – it was the one thing she longed for more than anything else in the world, and she knew it was his dearest wish too.

The carefully prepared meal dried up in the oven, but Nick did not return. She went to the door and looked out but the night was dark and a chill wind was springing up. The farmyard was deserted now except for Shep, the collie dog, sleeping with his head on his paws in his kennel. Only the clink of a cow's chain in the byre disturbed the silence. Bridie felt as though there was only her in the vast dark universe. She shivered and closed the door. In the small sitting room, the fire was dying down and she put on more logs. She turned on the television and turned it off again. She couldn't settle. Her stomach churned, but she couldn't eat.

The clock in the kitchen ticked away the minutes, and then the hours, and still Nick did not return. Bridie paced between the room and the kitchen. She put more logs on the fire until the huge basket was empty. She looked at the clock for the umpteenth time. It was after midnight, her back ached and she was tired, and utterly miserable and bewildered. Surely, if Nick had gone down to the village he would have been home by now? Where else could he have gone, without his supper, without even a coat? She was exhausted but unwilling to undress and go to bed alone.

Nick walked fast but without direction. He just knew he needed to get outside, to walk and walk, and not think, not allow the hurt and anger to boil and erupt like a sleeping volcano. He had no idea how far he had walked in the darkness and he didn't care, but his thoughts were in his head and he couldn't leave them behind. How could Bridie treat him as though he was no more than a lodger in her house? Conan had looked so jubilant, but he had assumed Bridie had already told him of her own plans, and what she had achieved. He was the only one who didn't know. Her parents had known, of course, and the bank manager, and the lawyer. Even Fiona Sinclair must have known Bridie had taken out a huge bank loan to buy the land. What sort of a husband did the bank manager think he was? Bridie had always known he wanted to provide for his wife himself. He had refused to marry her until he could take care of her. His muddled thoughts went round and round and his head ached but still he walked on, never feeling the rising wind through his thick sweater.

What was it Conan had said? ‘Now you can be master in your own house and make your own decisions.' How could he be master in his own house when it was owned by his wife and the bank? Had Conan been mocking him? No, he had truly believed he knew what was going on at Glens of Lochandee. Conan was not the type to jeer at a friend and they had been friends for a long time, in spite of their differing ambitions as business partners. Now that their partnership at the garage was being dissolved their friendship would be more likely to continue. Nick's pace slowed as his thoughts began to see the more positive aspects of his new situation. It was not as though he had received an ignominious dismissal from a job. He and Conan had done well in the short time they had been in business together and Conan had been generous in his praise and fair in his valuation of their accumulated assets. No, he would not be a pauper once his own share of the capital was returned to him.

On one side of the narrow road a steep hill rose out of the darkness. Nick could see the eyes of a few sheep glowing yellow through the gloom and he vaulted the roadside fence and went to join them, panting as he reached the top of the hill. He stood looking down, his eyes accustomed to the darkness now. Below him he could see a few twinkling lights in farms and cottages, with the lights of the village hidden from view. He took out his pocket watch and tried to see the time. He held it to his ear. He had forgotten to wind it again and it had stopped. He shrugged and put it back in his pocket and sank onto his haunches, and eventually more comfortably onto the grass with his back against a rocky outcrop. A quarter moon had appeared in the dark November sky and the world was silent all around him. Nick rested his head in his hands. It was up to him what he did with his life. Always he had felt his parents were everything to each other. He had not allowed himself to think of his mother since her death. In his heart he was convinced she had not fallen into the river – her drowning had not been accidental. Would it have made any difference if he had been at home with her, if he had even been free to go home to her for a while after his father's death? The memory of her sing-song lilt came clearly to him now, ‘Life is what you make of it, boyo, or so I always believed, but war …' She had shaken her head in bewilderment. ‘War now, there's cruel, it is, taking away you all. Boyos still, all of you barely from out the schoolroom.'

It was true he had never really lived any of his adult life in his native Wales, but he had retained his Welsh accent along with the passions of his Celtic ancestors. Since the war, he had taken the Glens of Lochandee to his heart, along with Bridie. Did he want to live without her now? Without her and the land she loved? Could he? No, no, no! His heart cried out. Well, then, you foolish boyo … Go to it. Make of life what you will. He could almost hear his mother's voice as though she was standing at his side.

Nick stood up and stretched, aware now of the chill seeping into him through the seat of his trousers, the increasing dampness in the air, settling like dew drops on his woollen jersey and his tweed cap. He looked around him, trying to get his bearings. He must have walked miles and it was impossible to see far in the darkness. He turned around on top of the hill. He and Bridie had often stood together at the northern boundary of the Lochandee land and she had pointed out the various landmarks. Was this the hill to the north of Lochandee then? Had he walked round the twisting narrow roads in a semi-circle? If he had, then Lochandee lay somewhere to the south-west of where he stood. He looked up at the sky but the stars were hidden by the lowering clouds. What had he to lose? He wasn't even sure of finding his way back along the twisting lanes in the darkness. He would follow his instincts and cut across country. He did a few exercises to loosen up his stiff limbs and warm himself, then he set off at a jogging pace down the hill.

There were several hedges and fences to bar his way, but the farther he went the more certain he felt he was heading towards Lochandee and home. Home! What was it Bridie had said when he had greeted her? He had been too angry and tense to listen to her.

‘
I only knew for sure myself today.
'

His footsteps slowed and stopped. Bridie didn't lie. She might have deceived him by keeping silent, but she wouldn't lie. He stopped dead, his heart pounding. Had she been trying to tell him she was expecting another baby? Was it possible? Usually he had a fair idea about her monthly cycles, but he had been away with one of the buses for five days, as well as two three-day trips and had lost track. There would be no more sudden departures at two hours notice. Conan would have to find another stand-in for emergencies now. So could it be? His heart leapt at the possibility. Was that the reason Bridie had been reluctant to commit them to two singing engagements next March?

Nick tried to control his mounting excitement but the more he thought of it the more signs he seemed to remember. He had heard that women often went off drinking tea and he couldn't remember when Bridie had last drunk tea at breakfast time. Supposing he was right, that didn't alter the fact that Bridie had gone behind his back to buy her father's share of Glens of Lochandee.

When Nick crept into the house, the warmth from the big Aga cooker came to meet him and he realised how wet and chilled he was. He glanced at the clock and whistled softly. Two in the morning! He must have walked for 20 miles or more. No wonder he felt so stiff and weary, not to mention hungry and cold. He pushed the kettle onto the hot plate and foraged in the larder for some bread and cheese. He ate it standing up and swallowed the hot tea in great gulps, feeling it warming his whole body. He stripped off his wet clothes and crept naked up the stairs to find the warm wool dressing gown which Bridie had insisted on buying for him when she knew he would be staying away with the tourists.