Fields of Blue Flax (23 page)

She looked straight at him and he noticed how silvery grey her eyes were. ‘Mr Barrie, this is our little secret. The
Minister would not be pleased if he knew I was playing something written by a papist composer in the church.’ She smiled at him, her face lovely, and he felt himself become hot all over. It was time to leave and he told her he must get back home.

‘Before you leave, Mr Barrie, might I ask you something?’

‘Yes, Miss, anything.’

‘Since you are so good with your hands,’ she said, rubbing one hand over the smooth wood of the bench, ‘tell me, have you ever made a little tree house? I have been reading a novel that features one and it intrigues me.’

‘A tree house, Miss? No, and tae be honest, it’s Billy who’s good at carpentry, I just lend him a wee hand. But I could gie it a try.’

‘That would be wonderful, Mr Barrie, thank you.’

So he had started work on the tree house at the cottage. Margaret asked what he was making and when he told her, he added that it would of course be for her – and their bairns when in time they were blessed with them. That night she sulked the whole evening, brows knitting in silent wrath as she sat by the fire doing her darning. She never mentioned the tree house again.

Once the tree house was finished, he invited Miss Charlotte to view it, and she declared how delighted she was. He told her she could go up there whenever she wanted and she said she would do so on summer afternoons with a book to get away from the manse. It seemed strange to him that she would want to leave such a fine house to read halfway up a tree, but, well, she was a lady; what did he know.

She asked if, in return, there was anything she could help him with, as way of thanks, and he felt emboldened
to ask if she could help with his reading and writing. With each lesson he enjoyed her company, and the sight of her beautiful face, more and more.

There was a tap on the door and he jumped to his feet.

There she stood, shoulders hunched, a scarf around her neck, her arms clutching a leather satchel.

‘Come away in, Miss Charlotte, I’ve been trying to read the book frae last time but I’m still finding it difficult.’

She nodded as she sat down at the table, taking off her bonnet and laying it in front of her. She unknotted the scarf, put the satchel on the table and drew out two books, a jotter and some pencils. She sat back on her chair and sighed.

‘How are you, David?’

He smiled and said, ‘Well, thank you, Miss Charlotte. I was just checking on the tree house earlier, I still need to touch up the paintwork, but it’s looking fine.’

‘Good,’ she said, looking down at the gnarled wooden table.

‘Are you feeling well, Miss Charlotte?’ Her skin, usually so bright and clear, had a grey pallor, and he noticed some pimples on her chin.

She looked at him, grey eyes glistening. She popped a bramble into her mouth, swallowed then said, ‘I must confess, I am not, David. This is so difficult to relay as I know you and Mrs Barrie have waited such a long time to be blessed with a child and…’ She looked out the windows at the sight of a couple of sparrows alighting a branch outside.

‘Well, Miss Charlotte, I hae some news for ye, if I might be permitted to share it after you’ve finished?’

‘Tell me now, David, if it’s good news – for mine, sadly, is not.’

‘Miss Charlotte, ye ken how Margaret and me have waited so long for a bairn, we’ve been married now some ten years. Well, Margaret is expecting a baby, due next spring.’ He beamed and his dark eyes twinkled.

Charlotte stretched out her hand and touched his arm. ‘David, I am so very pleased for you both, that must be welcome news indeed. Is your wife keeping well?’

‘Aye, no bad, she didnae hae any sickness or anything. Ma says it’ll be a boy.’

Charlotte withdrew her arm and clasped her hands together in front of her. ‘Your child will be able to play in the tree house you built.’ She glanced out the window as the sparrows flew away. ‘But how coincidental to hear your news on a day such as today. I was going to tell you that I too am expecting a child. It will be born early in March.’

She glanced over at him then looked down at the table again.

David’s eyes widened, then he said, slowly. ‘Are you pleased, Miss Charlotte?’

‘Am I pleased? David, what a question. Am I pleased that I, daughter of the manse, am to produce an illegitimate child and will soon become the talk of the parish, the shame of the village? No, I am not pleased, not at all.’

‘I’m so sorry, of course you’re no’ pleased. What will ye dae?’

She shrugged. ‘I do not yet know. I will have to leave the village for a few months, and then once the baby’s here… Well, I have no idea what will transpire.’

She placed her arms out on the table in front of her and laid her head on them, turning her face away from him.

‘Who else knows?’

‘Only Cookie, and that is how it must be. I do not know where I shall go.’

David reached out and touched her hair. ‘Maybe you could stay at Corrie. Ma’s aye saying she’s lonely there now my Dad’s gone.’

Charlotte lifted her head up and looked at him. ‘That would be too much of an imposition, surely.’

‘I dinnae think so, Miss Charlotte, I was going tae see Ma on Sunday, I could ask.’

‘There would need to be complete discretion, David. No one can find out.’

‘Aye, of course. Ma’s never been one to blether wi’ other wifies, she’ll no clype.’

Charlotte raised her shoulders and sat upright, rubbing her hands. ‘Let me discuss this with Cookie but that might be a good option, David, thank you.’

She opened the book on top of her pile. ‘And now shall we take a look at
Saint Ronan’s Well
?’

‘Aye, if you feel like it, Miss.’

‘In truth, I do not, David. Shall we practise some writing instead?’

She took out a sheaf of papers and handed him her dip pen. ‘Why do you not write something for me? Start by practising your name, then try a few words, perhaps about the joy of hearing you are to become a father.’ She began to fill a little inkwell she had taken out of her bag from a bottle of ink, eyes downcast in concentration.

‘I’ll try, Miss.’ As she screwed the lid back on the bottle, he gazed at her in adoration.

Chapter Forty-two

2014

Gerry and Anna stood side by side in the kitchen, mugs of coffee in their hands. They were looking out at the garden where two crows were squawking loudly in the apple tree. Eventually Anna said, ‘Remember Mum wanted our apple trees to be as big as Auntie Mags’s trees, Dad, but ours never got that tall. They never even have many apples, do they?’

She turned to her father who stood, hands clasped tight round his mug, silent.

Anna continued, ‘I’m going to see Grandpa today with Lottie. What is there to do?’

Gerry looked round at his daughter, as if he had only just noticed her presence. ‘What?’

‘Grandpa. I’m going to see him later. Is there anything you need me to do before the funeral tomorrow?’

Gerry returned his gaze to the window. ‘We must do something about the garden, it was your mother’s pride and joy. Can’t let it get out of order, she’d not have liked that.’

Anna put down her mug. ‘Dad, I’ll see you later. I’ve got my mobile if you need anything.’

She kissed him on the cheek. ‘I still can’t get used to you being clean-shaven, Dad. Mum would have loved it.’

He rubbed his fingers over his chin. ‘Loved the lack of beard, yes…’

‘Jack’s going to get out your suit and black tie and see if you need a shirt ironed when he’s back from the gym.
Okay?’

But Gerry didn’t reply. He was still staring out the window.

Lottie put her arm around her cousin’s shoulders as they walked along the path to Charlie’s house. Lottie reached for the buzzer then stopped, her hand in mid-air.

‘Anna, this is going to be so difficult, both Gran and Uncle Charlie are in a terrible state, they just can’t keep it together. I hate seeing old folk cry. God, you must be feeling a million times worse though.’ She gave her cousin a tight hug.

Anna nodded. ‘I’ve been crying myself to sleep every night.’ She pulled out a tissue. ‘Poor Grandpa. It’s so wrong isn’t it, to lose a child. It kind of ruins the whole natural sequence of things. I mean, remember how mum was when we had our accident.’ She blew her nose then rammed the tissue into her pocket. ‘Okay, let’s go in.’

Lottie pressed the bell a couple of times, turned the doorknob and walked in, shouting, ‘We’re here!’

They walked into the hall and felt the stifling heat hit them.

‘God it’s boiling in here,’ Anna said, opening the door to the lounge.

Charlie sat in his armchair, head bent low, bony shoulders pointing through his cashmere sweater. He turned when he saw them and tears filled his eyes.

Auntie Peggy pushed herself up off the sofa and hobbled over to hug them both, one after the other. She sighed deeply, wiped her eyes and gestured to the sofa. ‘Sit down girls, I’ve got the coffee tray all ready.’ She toddled across the room towards the kitchen and as she passed her brother,
she stroked his hollow cheek. He brushed her hand away and said to the girls, ‘Come and tell me your news. How are you both?’

‘Fine, Grandpa,’ said Anna, taking his gnarled hand. ‘Well, not really but that’s just what we say, don’t we. How about you?’ She looked into his watery eyes, the brown cornea now ringed with grey.

He squeezed her hand back and whispered, ‘Not great, Anna. Love of my life, gone. It’s not right, not the right order of things.’ He shook his head.

Lottie began to snivel then stood up. ‘I’m going to help Gran with the coffee.’

Charlie leaned in to Anna and whispered. ‘It’s that great-grandmother of theirs. It’s her fault. She had a secret you know. I told them, your mum and Mags, not to carry on researching her history but they wanted to, your mum especially.’

‘That’s nothing to do with anything, Grandpa,’ said Anna, stroking his hand, the skin thin as parchment.

‘I think she had a curse, that’s why no one could find a birth certificate or anything. It all came from her, all the bad things – your accident, and then this, I’m sure of it.’ He turned to look directly into Anna’s blue eyes. ‘Don’t you girls start looking into her past now. I want all that information they collected destroyed. In fact, you mustn’t look into any of the family’s past, do you hear?’

Anna frowned. ‘Okay, Grandpa,’ she said, as Lottie came into the room bearing a tray of mugs. She stood up and went into the kitchen where Peggy was tipping a packet of rich tea biscuits onto a plate.

‘Auntie Peggy,’ she whispered, ‘Grandpa seems obsessed with the research thing Mum and Auntie Mags were doing
on their great-grandmother. What’s that all about?’

They could hear Lottie talking loudly next door. ‘Here’s your coffee, Uncle Charlie. I’ll put it on the coaster for you.’

‘He’s been consumed by it, keeps telling me it was her fault, some curse. I’m worried his mind’s gone even more now.’ She let out a long breath then stretched out her hand to stroke Anna’s curls. ‘It’s a terrible business, it really is.’

She looked up from the plate of biscuits in her hand. ‘And where’s Doug? Do you know what’s happening there? I don’t like to ask Lottie, and Mags wont tell me.’

‘Sorry Auntie Peggy, way down my list of priorities.’

Peggy drew her great-niece to her ample chest in a hug. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, of course it is.’ They walked next door to join the others.

About ten minutes later, Lottie’s phone rang and she plucked it from her bag and looked at the screen. It was her dad. She ignored it. A couple of minutes later a text pinged in. She picked it up and read. It was Doug, asking if he could help with transport to the funeral, and pleading with her to meet him and talk.

Lottie waited till Peggy had finished telling them about who was coming to the funeral from the extended family then interrupted. ‘Sorry, Gran, that’s a text from Dad. He says can he take you and Uncle Charlie to the funeral? He can pick you up at 10.15. Mum’s got to help Gerry with things at the house so she can’t do it, I’d take you but my car’s only got two doors.’

‘Well, that’s a kind offer. Yes, please.’ Peggy picked up her mug from the mantelpiece then said, ‘Lottie, he’s not living at home at the moment is he, sweetheart?’

‘No, he’s not.’ Lottie started to tap on her phone. ‘Right
I’ll just reply to him just now, Auntie Peggy.’

Her text back to Doug read, ‘Fine for lift. What is there to talk about?’

‘Want to tell you what happened twenty-three years ago. Please?’

Anna picked up her mug and finished her coffee then typed in ‘Okay. My flat, 8 o’clock.’

Chapter Forty-three

June 1859

Charlotte tipped back her head and burst out laughing.

‘David Barrie, I swear I have not laughed so much, ever.’ She shook her head. ‘You make teaching the written word a joy. Truly.’

David smiled back at her and gazed into her grey eyes. ‘Miss Charlotte, I have to tell ye, I havenae laughed sae much in ages either.’ He pointed to the book opened on the table in front of them. ‘I ken ye said
As You Like It
is a comedy but it’s the way they speak too, is it no’?’

‘Absolutely, David, but I did not realise that until you read the words out loud to me.’ She straightened her back and tried to suppress a grin. ‘Methinks you are at home in the Forest of Arden, young knave!’

‘No’ sae young, Miss Charlotte. You could almost be my daughter!’

She frowned. ‘Oh, I do not think so, David, I was eighteen years old on my birthday two weeks ago.’

‘Aye, well that makes me twenty years older than you – it would be easy to be a faither at twenty!’

The smile left her face and she put her hand on the book to close it. ‘You have not the character of a father. What I mean is, you have no qualities of the one I know as you are neither stern nor distant nor… bullying. And I so enjoy our time together, you make me laugh. There is no laughter in the manse.’

‘To be honest, Miss Charlotte, there’s few laughs in my ain home. The wife’s waited so long to hae a bairn and it
just disnae happen.’