Turn of the Tide (40 page)

Sybilla completed his sentence. ‘. . . is good to me and will want to find me happy.’

An unaccountable shiver ran through Kate and to cover it she lifted the poker to stir the fire.

‘Would you wish it here?’

‘We did wonder . . .’

‘Wonder what?’ Munro came in, brushing moss from his hose. ‘Archie! Sybilla! I saw the horses in the stable. It’s good to see you both, and looking well.’ He poked
Archie’s stomach. They’ve surely got a better cook at Kilmaurs than when I was last there, or is there a new fashion for padding that we aren’t aware of?’

Sybilla said, ‘See, Archie. It isn’t only me that thinks you not so slender as once you were.’

Archie was tracing a circle behind her ear, twisting a strand of hair around his finger. ‘Slender is for lassies. This is but to keep me warm. When the summer comes, I shall shed the
pounds as a horse does a winter coat.’

Laughter rippled in Kate. ‘It’s to be hoped not so patchily.’

‘It isn’t my fault that you don’t recognize a fine figure of a man when you see him.’

‘The best of a poor lot at Kilmaurs anyroads.’ It was unintentional, but Sybilla’s mention of Kilmaurs brought a chill that cut the chaffing as a scythe would straw.

The door bounced on its hinges.

Maggie was cradling a bird’s nest, twigs and feathers and wisps of hay woven together into a perfect cup shape.

Kate frowned. ‘Maggie, you shouldn’t disturb . . .’

‘I didn’t.’ Maggie’s eyes, fixed on the nest, were robin-bright. ‘It was Tabs, scraping around under the thorn bushes behind the byre. I thought it was a bird and
called her away and then I crawled in and found this and I thought it wouldn’t do harm to bring it home. Uncle Archie!’ She flung herself across the room and he caught her and birled
her round, her skirts lifting to display the petticoats beneath.

‘You haven’t forgot me then?’

‘Robbie will be cross,’ Maggie sounded smug. ‘He wouldn’t come with me, though I tell’t him I thought I saw horses, and then we saw Tabs and . . .’

‘And I must see this nest.’ Archie hunkered down, taking it from her. It was about four inches across and less than an inch thick, the inside soft with down.

‘Do you know what kind of bird made this?’

She shook her head.

‘A sparrow – to judge by the size and the making. See how tightly it hangs together. And all with her beak.’ He tapped his finger against Maggie’s mouth. ‘Do you
think you could do so well with your teeth?’

She shook her head again, her eyes solemn, then grabbed the nest back, hugging it against her.

‘Maggie! Don’t be rude.’ Kate shot an apologetic glance at Archie.

‘He can’t have it.’

‘Maggie!’

Archie shook his head at Kate, then touched Maggie’s nose. ‘Of course I can’t, it’s yours. But what will you do with it?’

‘Put it back, where Tabs can’t get it.’ She switched her attention to her father, ‘How many eggs will there be?’

Munro hunkered down beside Archie and stroked Maggie’s hair. ‘I don’t think there’ll be any eggs, sweet, not in this nest.’

Maggie glared at Archie. ‘But you said it was well made.’

‘And so it is.’ Munro cupped her face in his hands. ‘But if you put it back now the bird would smell Tabs and would be feart to lay her eggs.’

Maggie’s shoulders drooped.

Munro pulled her towards him, taking care not to squash the nest. ‘The sparrow’ll build another one, just the same, you’ll see, and you may keep watch on Tabs to make sure she
can’t fright her a second time.’ He tweaked a curl that swung in front of her ear. ‘I’m sure you can find a use for this one.’

Archie and Sybilla rode out early the next morning, eager to get her father’s affairs sorted and have leisure and to spare to plan for a happier occasion.

‘We have three days only.’

Kate heard the regret in Archie’s voice and was cheered, minding his last visit, when he was less comfortable with their company.

As they dwindled down the valley she leaned against the barmkin wall. Ellie was perched on Munro’s shoulder.

‘It’ll be a fine thing to arrange a wedding,’ Kate said, ‘While I’m still young enough to enjoy it.’

‘You’ll hardly be ancient in twelve or thirteen year’s time, at least I hope not, or I’ll be thinking it’s a poor bargain I’ve made.’

‘Maggie’ll not marry at sixteen, or not if I have any say in the matter.’

‘What makes you think you will? She’s got gey enough spirit the now. I can’t see her changing.’

‘Spirit maybe, but sense too I hope, before she’s the age for marrying. And to throw herself away at sixteen . . .’

‘Not like her mother then.’

She rose to the bait. ‘I was practically seventeen, though . . .’, mischief in her eyes, ‘. . . I concede the lack of sense.’ She lifted Ellie to the floor, protesting,
and rested her chin on Munro’s chest. ‘I have few regrets, which is maybe,’ she pretended to think, ‘an indication that I still lack sense.’

The wind was picking up and fat grey clouds moved across the valley, holding the threat of rain.

Munro assessed the sky and followed them in, responding to Kate’s questioning glance with, ‘They won’t aye be bairns, and what I miss can’t be recovered.’ He broke
off, the words hanging heavy between them, then touched his fingertips to her cheek in mute apology. ‘The work will wait.’

He stretched out on the floor of the solar, a doll on either side of him and ate crumbs of cake and drank thimblefulls of milk from a miniature pewter tankard that Maggie replenished at regular
intervals, in between the scolding of her dolls for their apparent lack of appetite. Kate sat on the settle, a petticoat spread over her lap. It had been torn on a briar as she over-reached to
gather the last of the brambles, so that she sought to make the best of the damage by re-fashioning it for Maggie. Her head was bent, concentrating on cutting and tucking and pinning.

Robbie dragged a stool beside her, his chequer-board under one arm. It was the first time he had touched it since Anna’s death and seeing it, Kate found it hard to swallow, as if a
fish-bone stuck in her throat.

‘Set it up then, and see if you can best me.’

Ellie, though sixteen months and dainty, was still not quite steady on her feet and scooted her wooden walker around the room by bouncing in the cambric sling until the tips of her toes
contacted with the floor. She had a fair grasp of the workings of the thing, but it didn’t always do exactly as she wanted so that her giggles were punctuated by angry squeals when she found
herself propelled in the wrong direction.

They had brought it home with them from the jaunt to Edinburgh, a purchase that had Agnes grumbling over their lack of sense.

‘New-fangled nonsense and the likely outcome, disaster.’ She had grudgingly admitted the quality of the thing. ‘The wood is smooth enough, I grant you. At least she won’t
snag her clothes.’

‘No, indeed.’ Kate thought her almost won round. ‘We were assured the cloth is also of the best and would carry a child twice Ellie’s weight, and the legs are well
splayed and prettily turned forbye.’

Agnes, her fears renewed by the fineness of the four spindles to which the balls allowing the walker to slide across the floor were attached, countered, ‘And what use prettiness when she
coups and they splinter.’

But Ellie hadn’t couped, though she had come close on the first day, fetching up against the edge of the rag rug, which Kate hastily rolled up and which was now stowed away until the time
for the walker was past. The square frame, running around the outside of the legs a couple of inches from the floor, gave it added stability. It had already proved its value in giving Ellie a
measure of the mobility she so clearly wanted. Whether it had also slowed her progress in walking was a debatable point, but the additional freedom it gave Kate, was, in her opinion, worth the
risk.

She had played her trump card. ‘It’s good exercise for the child, and saves the wearing out of stockings.’

And Agnes had let it be, for Ellie, crawling from six months, had already rubbed through more stockings than all the other children put together.

She spun across the floor and reaching Robbie grasped the chequer-board and thrust the edge of it into her mouth, so that the remaining chequers slid onto the floor and rolled in all
directions.

‘I had you beat,’ Robbie leapt up, indignant. He stamped his foot and pulled the board from Ellie’s hands, shoving against the walker, sending her shooting towards the other
end of the room, so that she ran over Maggie’s doll and Munro’s tiny tankard
en route
.

Munro was on his knees retrieving the tankard, Kate soothing a wailing Ellie, Maggie scolding Robbie, while he, ignoring her, scrabbled for the chequers, as Archie and Sybilla entered, flushed
and damp from the ride.

‘Maybe if we go out and come in again it will be a mite more welcoming. I don’t know that I’m ready for this.’

Sybilla tugged Archie towards Ellie. ‘Time you learnt. Next year . . .’

‘Marriage is one thing. And fine. But bairns . . . though ours, of course, won’t fight.’

‘With you as their father?’ Kate patted the cushion beside her. ‘Sybilla, come and dry yourself out and I shall tell you, if you don’t know already, some of what
you’re letting yourself in for with Archie. He and Munro aye fought the piece out and Archie was fair feisty, for all that he was the younger by six years. Growing up practically in their
backyard, you’d have thought I might have had more sense than to marry onto them.’ She was looking at Munro, settled again with Maggie, his tankard re-filled, and her smile was
indulgent. ‘Serious though, we have been fortunate: nine years and most of them . . .’ the shadow of Annock and of Anna flickered for an instant between them, ‘. . . most of them
content.’

Sybilla reached out for Ellie. ‘Can I? Practice won’t do harm.’

Archie, on the window seat beside Robbie, set the chequer-board up again. ‘The contract is for a wife only, at least the now. We have a home to find, before we can fill it with
bairns.’

Munro waved away a refill of milk. ‘No thank you, sweet, I think I’ve had enough.’ Then, as Maggie began to pout, ‘If you feed me now, then I shan’t be able for my
dinner and Agnes will be put out. It’s the turn of the dolls, for they don’t have anything else to come.’

Mollified, Maggie began to feed her dolls and Munro turned his attention to Archie.

‘Have you thoughts on the matter of where to live?’

‘Thoughts yes, but . . .’

‘Glencairn isn’t any more aware of them than your wedding plans?’

‘No, though I suspicion that he might see advantage in them, but as for William . . .’

‘Care to share them?’

‘There is a broken-down tower on the Solway. It’s Cunninghame land, though Glencairn’s hold on it is tenuous. A repaired tower would strengthen his hand.’

‘I can’t see anything to object to in that, even for William, your company isn’t so critical that he couldn’t spare you?’

‘My company, no.’ Archie turned to Robbie, his gaze on the chequer-board. ‘Are you ready? I’m not easy to beat, mind.’

‘No more am I. I had Mama on the run, but that Ellie wrecked the board.’

Munro was thinking aloud. ‘I wouldn’t hold out much hope that Glencairn would pay for the repairs. That, I imagine, would be your own concern.’

‘Hmm.’ Archie hesitated and Kate thought again how changed he was, and for the better, from the brash Archie of the previous year.

Robbie was tugging at his arm. ‘Can I start?’

Archie winked at him, ‘If you won’t trounce me too quick.’ He looked over his head at Sybilla, then at Munro. ‘I did wonder . . .’

‘If I could help?’

‘Aye. I know I haven’t always been the best of brothers, but . . .’

Kate was definite. ‘It’s what you are now that counts. Of course we can help. As you can see, my husband has little to do with his time and can no doubt spare some to set you
up.’ She turned to Sybilla, ‘I trust you had some say in the choosing of this tower.’

‘We found it together, when riding out from Orchardton. It has a view of Dunisle and the ground below runs down to the firth. It was there we settled things between us, and so,’ her
eyes were bright, ‘will be a fine place to settle, though it’ll take some time and much silver before any but crows can bide there.’

‘That good?’

‘Well, there is a small part still roofed, though how much of the weather it would keep out is another matter, but the walls seem sound enough and the chimneys don’t look to be a
problem. Two of the floors are there and though springing with damp, are, I think, recoverable. The window glass will be the most expense, though, as it is gey old and small forbye, there
aren’t many windows.’ Archie had switched his attention from the chequers. A mistake, for Robbie, hopping backwards and forwards around the board with his crowner, scooped up
Archie’s remaining pieces and whooped.

‘I tell’t you I could best you!’

‘That you did, and well done too.’ He began to pile up the counters.

‘Is it the day after tomorrow you head for Kilmaurs?’ Munro was running possibilities around in his mind. ‘Could you detour on the way back?’