Fields of Blue Flax (24 page)

Charlotte looked concerned. ‘I am so sorry, David, that must cause such grief for you both.’

‘Even mair since Agnes and Billy next door just got married last year and they’re having twins any day now.’

Charlotte looked into his kind eyes and he looked away towards the window and the early spring sunshine.

‘But in my home at Corrie, when I was a bairn, my Dad was aye one for a joke, he’d have us laughing a’ the time.’

‘That must have been a wonderful childhood,’ Charlotte said, patting his arm.

She began to pack the books and paper into her satchel. ‘Well, I must be going. I said to Cookie I would be out for an hour and would return before my father gets back from visiting the parishioners in Oathlaw.’ She threaded the leather strap through the catch and put the satchel on her lap. ‘It is my belief however, that he goes there primarily to partake of Lady Munro’s fine claret.’

David opened his eyes wide. She noticed his shocked look and smiled. ‘You are a good man, David. And one I believe to be straightforward and honest. My father is more, shall we say, complex.’

David said nothing, but pushed back his chair and jumped to his feet when she stood up from hers.

‘Let us meet in another four weeks, on the last Friday of the month as usual?’

‘Aye that’d be grand, Miss. I’ll gie ye half an hour or so now before I gang home in case anyone sees ye coming out frae the woods.’

‘From the Forest of Arden, David!’ she said, laughing. She tied on her bonnet, picked up her satchel and went to the door.

‘Next time we shall look at
A Midsummer Night’s Dream
– now there is a truly enchanted forest!’ She nodded farewell to him and stepped outside, pulling her shawl tight round her shoulders. The wind was getting up, and the branches on the hazel trees were beginning to sway gently to and fro.

She came out of the woods and crossed the road, checking there was no one around to see her, then started along the road towards Tannadice village. She walked past the little cottages, each one with smoke billowing out of its chimney. She had only been once in one of those cottages, when she went out with Cookie one day to visit an old lady, taking her some ramson soup. Cookie had said it was good for her ailment, whatever it was, but then Cookie said soup was good for all ills.

Charlotte had been shocked at how grimy and shabby the cottage was. There were no rugs on the floor, just bare stone. She shivered as she remembered how cold it had been. The pan hanging on the swee over the fire was black and the cups Cookie insisted they take tea from were chipped and filthy. How could they live in such hovels?

As she passed the Barrie cottage, she tried to imagine David living in such squalor. He was an intelligent man, humble yet bright. Was there no way to improve his lot? If she could help him with his reading and writing, could he perhaps obtain a better job? Though she had had no idea until today that he was thirty-eight, he looked much younger. Perhaps he was too old for anything new.

She had been attracted to him for some time; she used to surreptitiously watch him come through the church door, remove his cap then usher his wife into a pew. She had noticed his deep-set eyes and strong features. And his height: he towered over his dumpling wife. Though the
poor thing was unable to conceive, that must be a terrible burden.

Charlotte opened the manse gate and walked up the path, praying that her father was not yet home. She pulled the door quietly behind her then crept along the corridor towards the kitchen. Cookie was sitting at the kitchen table, writing.

‘Is he back?’ Charlotte asked.

‘No’ yet,’ she said looking up at the clock. ‘Shouldnae be long though. I’d better get the tea tray ready.’

Charlotte ambled towards the table, removing her shawl. ‘What are you writing? It does not resemble your usual lists and menus.’ She peered over the older woman’s shoulder.

Cookie quickly shut the book.

‘It’s my journal, Miss Charlotte.’ She took a long ribbon and tied it round the covers of the diary. She stood up and put it in the drawer of the kitchen dresser.

‘Should one not keep a journal somewhere secret?’ Charlotte asked, watching her shut the dresser drawer.

‘It’s only there while I mak’ the tea, then it’ll gang back to its secret place. But to be honest, Miss Charlotte, there’s nothing I need to hide frae anyone.’

‘Who can tell, Cookie? Certainly not I.’ She tucked a loose strand of hair into her bun then smiled. ‘I too keep a journal, but mine is under lock and key! I shall be in the drawing room presently. Shall I take Mother her tincture first?’

‘Aye, if you dae that please, Miss, I’ll get everything ready on the tray.’

There was a loud noise from the hall as the front door opened. They both flinched and looked round. They stood still, listening to footsteps, heavy at first then fading.

Cookie walked quickly over to the coat hooks and took down her apron. ‘That’s him home now,’ Charlotte said, shivering. She tiptoed towards the door, pulled her shawl tightly round her and sped up the stairs.

Chapter Forty-four

2014

Lottie answered the door to find her father standing there, hair uncombed, stubble on his chin. He smiled broadly, his dimples prominent, when he saw his daughter.

He moved to hug her but she turned away. ‘Go on into the lounge, Dad. Beer or red wine?’

‘Whatever you’re having, Lotts.’

He wandered through to the small living room and went to the piano in the corner, peering down at the sheets on the music stand. Taking his glasses from his jacket pocket, he sat down and began to play.

‘Make yourself at home, why don’t you!’ Lottie said, bringing in a tray. He looked round, his hands hovering above the keys. ‘Lotts, this is one of those Ravel pieces you did at your final concert, isn’t it? It’s fabulous. I’m rubbish at it though. Will you play it?’

She shook her head.

‘Please, darling?’

‘Later, maybe. Tell me what you’re here to say.’

Doug shut the piano lid and went to sit beside Lottie on the sofa. He took a glass of red wine from the tray and lifted it up. ‘Cheers!’

‘I don’t think there’s much to be cheery about, Dad. It’s Auntie Chris’s funeral tomorrow.’

‘I am not feeling cheerful. Believe me, the past few weeks have been a nightmare.’

Lottie took a gulp of her wine and sat back, looking at him steadily, trying not to let her emotions show. ‘So, Mum
says you’ve been staying at Bill’s since you left home?’

‘Sleeping on his sofa, not the most comfortable of beds, I have to say.’

Doug sighed. ‘Lotts, I want to tell you what happened in 1989. She – Chris, I mean – had asked to meet up. It was only a week before her wedding to Gerry and she said she wanted to chat to me about my best man’s speech. I presumed she wanted to check there was nothing dodgy in it, you’ve heard how her mother’s side were very straight-laced, wee frees from somewhere up north. Anyway, I was up in Aberdeen helping my mum clear out the stuff from Dad’s surgery – it was pretty soon after he died – and Chris had been in Forfar or Brechin or somewhere near there.’

He took a sip of his wine and glanced at Lottie, whose expression was inscrutable.

‘So we decided to meet at the cottage, the place in the woods we took you to a couple of times when you were wee, just a toddler. There used to be an amazing little tree house in the garden, but that was already gone when you were there, ruined in that great storm.’

‘Why did you meet there?’

‘I was on my way down from Aberdeen and it’s five minutes off the main road back to Edinburgh and she said she was only ten minutes away. She was the one who suggested the cottage.’

He frowned then continued, ‘She was waiting for me when I arrived. We went inside and I got out my notes for the speech that I’d started to cobble together. We talked a bit about the wedding. She’d been really disappointed when Mum couldn’t be her bridesmaid. You knew she had post-natal depression after having you, didn’t you?’

Lottie nodded.

‘Well, it was really bad and in those days they didn’t have the range of medication they have nowadays. So it left Chris having to ask someone else to be bridesmaid – Lesley someone or other, an old school friend she wasn’t even that friendly with. Chris was pretty pissed off that Mum pulled out at the last minute, but she just wasn’t up to it.’

‘Right, but where are you going with this?’

‘Just listen, please. We talked about the speech. I kept telling her it was none of her business – I was the best man. But she was very… controlling.’ Doug sat up straight and wiggled his neck around.

‘Your neck still bad?’

He nodded then continued. ‘After, I dunno, twenty minutes or so she moved the conversation onto Mum, though she didn’t seem very sympathetic. I don’t think she really believed in post-natal depression. I think she thought it was some wacky, selfish psychological illness, and that Mum ought to just snap out of it. She really didn’t have a clue. It was as if she thought Mum was inventing an excuse not to go to the wedding.’

Doug frowned. ‘Mum was really bad, you know. She could hardly get out of bed. Peggy – Granny – had to look after you while I was at work. I’d been sleeping in the spare room for about a month, with you in the cot beside me. Lotts, Mum was in a really bad place.’

He turned sideways and caught a glimpse of his daughter’s face, still unreadable.

‘So, back at the cottage.’ Doug paused to scratch his lank hair. ‘Chris began to, well, come on to me. At first I thought she was just messing around. I thought it was funny.’

He took a gulp of his wine and topped up his glass from the bottle on the tray. ‘So, you know how they say any
woman can seduce any man, well, I’m ashamed to say, the inevitable happened. I’ve regretted the whole thing ever since.’

He looked at his daughter, dark eyes imploring. ‘I’m telling you the truth, Lotts. She wanted to seduce me. I reckon it was like a power thing. Of course I could have resisted, but I didn’t.’ He paused. ‘Of course I share the blame, but I didn’t instigate it.’ He sighed. ‘That sounds so pathetic, doesn’t it?’

‘But why did she want to sleep with you a week before her own wedding?’

‘She said she had always loved me, fancied me – God, this is embarrassing – way before I got together with Mum. I’d chatted to her at some of the parties we all went to, but she was always in a different crowd of friends, never with Mum and her cool gang. She said she’d been wildly jealous when Mum and I got married and, though she was over that, she still wanted to sleep with me just once, because after she was married that could never happen. So, since I was, well, pretty vulnerable, what with Mum’s health and…’

‘And no sex for ages?’ Lottie spat out the words.

Doug looked towards the ceiling. ‘Yes, yes, you’re right. Call me weak and feeble, but yes, that’s right. I’m not trying to excuse what I did.’

‘Then what happened?’

‘Then she got dressed and left, without a word.’ He frowned and raised a finger. ‘I do remember her coming back in to open the curtains for some reason and that was when I looked up at her and she said, “See you at the wedding!” I remember she had a huge grin on her face.’

Lottie poured herself some more wine. ‘So what
happened when she knew she was pregnant with Jack?’

‘She told me there was a chance the baby was mine and I told her not to be ridiculous. But the older Jack got, the more he began to look like me, and it was pretty obvious. Well, to me and her anyway. Thank God not to Mum.’

Doug let out a deep breath. ‘That’s why I looked into the genetics of it all. We’re so alike. Not that anyone questioned it, apart from you.’

Lottie looked up at the ceiling. ‘Did you never think you should have told Mum? Or Jack?’

‘How could I? It would have ruined our marriage, the marriage to the only woman I’ve ever loved. I loved her from the minute I set eyes on her. You know that, Lotts, you know I’m mad about your mum.’ Doug took a deep breath. He had tears in his eyes.

Lottie took his hand. ‘Dad, I do know that and, strangely, I believe you. I believe this whole horrible, sordid story. Well, what choice do I have now she’s gone? I just can’t believe Auntie Chris would go out of her way to do something like that.’

‘Well, that was how she was about things – compulsive. You know how obsessed she was with that man who caused the accident. And she was always jealous of Mum, always.’

Lottie downed her glass and looked at her watch. ‘I don’t think I can talk about this any longer. It’s getting late. Do you want to sleep on the sofa?’

‘That’d be great. Thanks, darling. And if you don’t mind nipping home for me to get my dark suit and black tie first thing tomorrow morning?’

‘Okay.’ She prodded his scalp with her forefinger. ‘And while I’m out, wash your hair, will you?’

She went out to her bedroom, returning with a duvet
and pillow. She gestured for him to stand up then started making up the bed. Doug watched her, then said, ‘Lotts, just one more thing. I want to show your mum how much I love her and how sorry I am for what happened all those years ago. There’s one more thing I’m going to do for her.’

‘What?’ asked Lottie, picking up the tray.

Doug swallowed. ‘You’ll see soon enough.’ He started to take off his jumper. ‘Night, darling.’

Chapter Forty-five

May 1859

She strode over the damp greenery and sniffed the air, her nose twitching like a young doe’s. Of course – ramsons. It was wild garlic season. Cookie had said she was going to make some delicious soup from the young leaves soon.

Charlotte heard a noise and stood stock-still. Her immediate feeling of terror left her when she remembered her father was to be away from the village all afternoon. There was no possibility he had followed her.

David approached, hurrying over the wet leaves. He looked furtively around before he arrived at her side. His nervous expression made her smile.

‘Lead on, Macduff!’ She stretched out her hand as a monarch might to a lowly subject, then grinned as he pointed towards the cottage just beyond the clearing.

‘In fact, David, that is a misquote,’ she said as they tramped together over the squidgy leaves. ‘“Lay on, Macduff,” were the correct words, but somehow not as dramatic.’