Turn of the Tide (20 page)

‘The bairns will be tired of waiting. It would be an idea to keep your promise, else we will all suffer Anna’s grumping the rest of the day.’ As his footsteps died away, she
rounded on Munro. ‘I thought you’d have more sense than to rake over old quarrels. It’s not healthy to dwell on past troubles, unless it is to learn from them. And it won’t
do Archie any good to fill his head with such notions.’

‘I can’t help taking some pleasure from William’s discomfiture. Besides, you aren’t any more enamoured of the Cunninghames than I.’

‘I’m not enamoured of anyone who brings ill to our door. Cunninghame or Montgomerie it makes no odds to me.’

To distract her, he cocked his head to one side. ‘Is that Ellie?’

She was on her feet in an instant and sticking her head into the stairwell, picking up the faint hiccuping cry.

As she disappeared Mary said, ‘You don’t deserve the luck. You should know fine that women aren’t quite themselves after a birth. And not the most sensible time to raise
difficult memories. Besides, you are at peace the now. Why go looking to disturb it?’

‘It was talk among family only. What harm in that?’

Mary brushed at some crumbs that clung to her bodice. ‘You can’t depend on Archie to know what to speak and what to keep silent.’ She ran her fingers over her lips in an
unconscious, nervous gesture. ‘Family we may be, but it’s William he serves at Kilmaurs and you would do well to remember it.’

Munro hesitated. ‘There are times I wish he didn’t. Indeed . . .’

She was ahead of him. ‘You wish you hadn’t introduced him in the first place.’

‘Aye.’

‘So I have thought times.’ Her eyes were troubled. ‘But what’s done is done.’

Silence stretched between them, broken by a shower of sparks that burst like a scattering of shot from the grate.

He sought to reassure her, ‘Archie is here only a day or two. I won’t give him anything worth repeating.’

‘See that you don’t. I have no wish to see my family tear itself apart; there are plenty others would do it for us.’

‘I neither.’ Kate reappeared in the doorway, bouncing the baby on her hip. She brought Ellie to her mother-in-law and held her out. ‘It’s a good time to dandle her when
she’s newly fed, except . . .’

‘I’m not a stranger to a babe’s dribbles. Besides . . .’ Mary smiled down at the child, ‘one of the consolations of a grand-dame is that I can aye hand her
back.’

Ellie had been fed and slept and fed again before the other children returned with Archie. They burst into the solar where Kate and Mary sat by the fire, Ellie asleep in the
crib beside them. Mary was startled awake by the gleeful shouting as they ran to show Kate the five small trout that were the reward of their labours.

Though they wouldn’t go far, Kate, after admiring them, shooed Robbie to the kitchen. ‘Take them to Agnes, we can have them at supper if they’re gutted in time.’

Archie said, ‘They should have gone back by rights, but I didn’t have the heart.’

Robbie, part way to the door, turned.

Archie forestalled him. ‘They are a fine catch and I’m a dab hand at the gutting. Would you like to see how it’s done?’

‘I know already,’

‘Well you can show me then.’

Kate flashed a smile at Archie. ‘It will be helpful if you can try to see that there is some flesh left, so that the bairns at least will get a taste.’

Anna was hanging over the edge of the crib, poking Ellie.

‘Let be. She’s only just away.’ Kate touched Anna’s hair.

‘I want her to wake up.’

‘She will, soon enough.’

‘Me too.’ Maggie, who was scarce tall enough to see over the edge of the crib, was hanging on the side, tilting it, sliding Ellie towards her.

Mary picked Maggie up and she nestled in, her thumb slipping into her mouth. Kate thought on her children and on her husband, who had gone out shortly after Archie, to see to the bedding-in of
the cattle. And hoped he would come back in different fettle. She shared his discomfort at their Cunninghame connection, but as Glencairn hadn’t troubled them in a while, it was her policy to
concentrate on what they had, rather than fret after what they hadn’t. His discussion with Archie indicated a dangerous interest in the Montgomeries and their doings; perhaps a result of more
recent, un-admitted contact with them. An unwelcome thought that wouldn’t be dislodged.

‘Why can he not just settle at home?’

Mary shook her head. ‘Men aye have a different view of things. It’s as well to put up with it, or pretend to. If you don’t argue, it doesn’t give them any chance to try
to persuade you to their way of thinking.’

‘I’m not afraid of his persuading me, but rather of what he may do, persuasion or not. We have four healthy bairns and a fine house and food and to spare. It should be
enough.’

‘And so he told Archie. And so I’m sure he feels. I believe it is a fear that his brother may be too comfortable with Kilmaurs and their way of going that has brought him to wish the
old bonds broken.’

‘And new ones forged in their stead,’ Kate’s voice was bitter. ‘Pray God we could be free of them all.’

‘As to that, it is a foolish thing to fight what cannot be altered. We have a place in life that puts us under obligation. Pray rather that it doesn’t weigh too hard and perhaps you
may live as if free.’

Archie stayed two more days at Broomelaw. Whether it was the presence of the children, who plagued him constantly, or the unseasonably mild weather, he gradually thawed,
revealing in unguarded moments glimpses of the boy he once had been. Munro, mindful of his promise to his mother, avoided any chancy talk. Robbie became Archie in miniature: his hands clasped
behind his back, his mop of curls subdued by saliva-slicked fingers into a semblance of Archie’s smoother head. It seemed the visit would, after all, be more a pleasure than the trial Munro
had first feared.

He encouraged Kate and Mary to spend an hour in the middle of each afternoon on the south-facing bench in the barmkin. ‘It is only sense to shorten the winter where you can and it will be
good for the bairn to have some air.’ From the hillside below the tower the girls’ squeals and Robbie’s high, piping version of Archie’s lower rumble made a happy
counterpoint to the squabbling of the rooks who were their nearest and noisiest of neighbours.

Munro appeared as Mary leant into the basket to touch Ellie’s fine wisps of hair. ‘It’s a red-head she’ll be and maybe brighter than Anna.’

‘So I have thought and I don’t mind, except . . .’ Kate grimaced, ‘. . . two bairns with a temper to match their colour may be gey hard work.’

‘Bairns are aye hard work and can aye have a temper, red-haired or not.’ Mary smiled. ‘You’ll manage fine for you have a way with you that I’d have welcomed when my
bairns were wee.’

It was an unexpected compliment that seemed to embarrass Kate and when Agnes emerged into the sunshine to ask about supper, she made an excuse to accompany her to the kitchen. Ellie began to
make small noises, turning her head back and forwards as if she sought the breast. Mary lifted Ellie, walking her up and down, the small head cuddled into her neck, her crooked finger held against
Ellie’s lips. She fastened on greedily, but after a moment of concentrated effort began to wail. Though Mary had carried her for but a few moments and the bairn a wee bit thing, Munro saw
that she felt the weight as if the babe were half-grown, so he said,

‘We should go in. Fine and all as it has been, when the sun fails there is a bite to the air.’

In the solar he saw to the fire and so was only half-listening as Kate said,

‘What is it about a baby’s smell?’ Is it only me or do women aye find it soothes?’

‘I did. Do yet. Indeed to nurse a bairn still gives me a broody feeling, for all that I’m an auld hen and far past laying.’

‘Who’s past laying?’ Munro swivelled, ‘I trust our hens won’t fail us now. We have the winter to wait and we can add to our flock.’ He rose and touched his
finger against Ellie’s palm so that she closed her fist around it. ‘And with another mouth to feed, I don’t know if we can stand the expense.’

Mary laughed. ‘You needn’t worry. It was I we spoke of.’

‘It’s well you said it then, for I wouldn’t dare. True or not.’

She laughed again. ‘Is Archie still out with the bairns? He has lasted longer than I supposed.’

‘They have gone coney-chasing. Though there are more effective ways of catching a rabbit or two than letting those three loose in the warren, and Robbie so puffed-up I don’t know how
we will squash him once Archie is gone. Anna no less so. Maggie aye tags along, but will, I think, quickly settle to her old pastimes.’

Kate slid one finger against Ellie’s mouth to break her sucking. ‘Archie has seemed easier these last days and will, I hope, carry that feeling away with him.’

‘The influence of the children may stretch past the barmkin wall, but I doubt it’ll last in William’s company.’

Mary frowned at Munro. ‘Archie used to be gey easy going. And may be so again.’

‘Maybe.’

As if on cue, Archie appeared, the three children in tow. Robbie was immediately behind him, struggling to keep his step in time, forbye his shorter stride. Telltale traces of blood seeped
through the corner of the canvas bag he carried.

‘You were sucessful then?’

‘How did you know?’ Robbie sounded disappointed.

Kate nodded at the sack. ‘How many have you?’

‘Only the one. We should’ve had more but,’ he cast a disgusted look towards Maggie, ‘she squealed and gave warning of our coming and set them all running. Archie said I
did very well to get this one.’

‘Indeed I did. He has the makings of a fine stalker.’

‘That’ll be one less job for me then.’ Munro ruffled Robbie’s hair. ‘It’s a fine thing to have a son with his wits about him.’

Robbie tugged at the strings on the bag and thrust it under Kate’s nose.

She peered in. ‘A goodly size and a welcome addition to our supper. Maybe Archie could help with the skinning.’

‘Come on then.’ Archie hefted the sack, ‘If it’s rabbit stew we’re after, we need to get on.’

‘Me too.’ Anna was right on Robbie’s tail.

In the kitchen, Agnes looked up. ‘What have you then?’

Robbie held out the open sack.

‘Well now. It’s a fine buck and will make a tasty stew.’ She pulled on Anna’s plait. ‘If we leave the men to the easy job, d’you think you could take a hand
in the vegetables with me?’ She ignored Anna’s scowl. ‘Rabbit is all fine, but without well-prepared vegetables, it isn’t much of a stew. And it takes a woman to make a good
job of them.’

Mary returned to their earlier conversation. ‘I wish that Archie could bide a while.’ She kneaded her palm with her thumb. ‘Whether it is the bairns doing or
not, he’s neither so tense nor so hard as when he came.’

Kate said, ‘They can’t all favour William at Kilmaurs?’

It was a new thought to Munro, but one that raised difficult memories. He thought on the Cunninghame party present at the meal after the hunt at Fintrie, and further back, the evening at
Kilmaurs before the business at Annock, though most of those who had gathered then were dead. As he was fortunate not to be. Of those that remained, though they might not all favour William, would
any openly withstand him? It was a question that came uncomfortably close to home. Kate was waiting for an answer.

I don’t know. I had a suspicion that John Cunninghame doesn’t sit easy with William and would wish himself elsewhere.’

‘Wishing is one thing . . .’ Mary tailed off.

Kate, as if determined to be cheerful, said, ‘Don’t forget Sybilla Boyd. Looking to her may keep Archie on the right track.’

Munro crossed to the window. The sun, bleached of colour, was slipping behind the hill. The half-shadows emphasized the unevenness of the ground, the hillside a crumpled plaid of brown and
purple; bracken and late-flowering heather criss-crossed with narrow tracks where sheep wandered. He spoke his thoughts aloud.

‘Is there a right track in the Cunninghame household?’

Kate came to stand behind him, her breathing not quite even. ‘Let be. We’re peaceable the now. Why trouble over what may never happen.’