Family Matters

by Gillian Villiers

  Susie put a hand on her arm. ‘Your mother’s adoptive parents were also her real parents. Your real grandparents.’

  Hope could feel her heart beating loudly in her chest. She felt as though she had been winded. This changed everything she had grown up believing.

  Her mother wasn’t adopted. She hadn’t been a cuckoo in the nest, never quite fitting in, never happy in this strange family.

  ‘And my mother knew this?’ she said slowly.

  ‘Yes, she did – eventually. Come and sit down over here and I’ll tell you about it.’

  Susie led the way to a rusting garden bench and, after brushing off the twigs and leaves, they sat down. Hope felt dizzy. Everything was different. With an effort she forced herself to concentrate on what Susie was telling her.

  ‘It’s not that unusual a story, in some ways,’ said Susie softly. ‘Jane and Joseph were both in their thirties when they got engaged, I’m not exactly sure why they left it so late. And then not long after the engagement he went off to war. What they didn’t know was that Jane was expecting his child at the time. I’m sure they would have married if they had realised.

  ‘Well, you can imagine how awful it was for Jane when his family received the telegram telling them he was missing, presumed dead. We don’t know any of the details but we do know she took herself off to Glasgow soon after that. You have to remember that having a child out of wedlock in those days wasn’t like it is today. It would have been totally unacceptable. It seems that Jane had the child and then gave her up. She would have thought she had no choice, you do see that, don’t you? Jane must have kept in touch with her, but as far as we know she still told no one about her baby.’

  Hope shook her head, trying to take all this in. ‘And then her fiancé came back? What a shock that must have been.’

  ‘Yes. A wonderful one in many ways. And when he learnt of the child’s existence they were determined to get her back. They married and your mother was officially adopted by them. The problem was, they didn’t tell anyone in St Ann’s Bridge the truth. The stigma of what had happened must have been terrible, at least in Jane and Joseph’s eyes. So they brought up their own daughter, and they loved her, I can assure you of that. What they didn’t realise was that your mother had her own stigma to deal with, the teasing about being adopted, the believing she didn’t belong. It was very hard for her.’

  ‘But they did tell her eventually?’ said Hope. ‘You said she did know?’

  ‘Yes. Your grandfather died the year your mother and I started our nursing training. Your mother missed him terribly. I told you, he was a lovely man. Your grandmother was different, she could be very hard.’ Susie sighed again. ‘I’m sure she was only trying to do what was right, in her eyes. Anyway, soon after the funeral, for some reason she told your mother the truth. I think she wanted your mother to realise how much she, Jane, had suffered. But Elspeth didn’t see it that way. I think it nearly broke her heart to know she had been brought up with such a lie.’

  Hope was silent, trying to take all this in. She had heard of children being brought up as one of the family and finding out later they were adopted. She had never heard of a story like this one. It was so weird.

  ‘But why? It all seems so silly. Why not tell the truth?’

  ‘Things were different then.’

  ‘So why didn’t Mum tell me the truth, at least? I don’t understand.’

  ‘I think she found it hard to accept,’ said Susie gently. ‘I tried to persuade her to tell you, but she said she’d been brought up to believe she wasn’t truly a Calvert and that was the way she felt. She felt adopted.’

  ‘Poor Mum,’ said Hope. But after the initial sympathy, she also felt anger. This made a difference to her, too. All the things she could have known but didn’t. All the things she had missed out on.

  She looked around again. ‘So this is where my grandparents lived? My real grandparents.’

  ‘That’s right,’ said Susie, giving her a hug. ‘I’m so glad you know the truth.’ She seemed relieved. ‘Now, if you don’t want to be away from Kirkside too long, perhaps we should be getting back? We’ll have plenty of time to talk more about this later.’

  Hope followed her up the gloomy track in a daze. It was going to take a long time to sort this out in her head. Suddenly, everything she had thought was true had shifted, as though the world had tipped on its side.

  Chapter Eight

  Hope couldn’t get the things Susie had told her out of her head. Her mother had been brought up thinking she was adopted – but actually she wasn’t. How could her mother had known all this and said nothing to her?

  Mr Jackson noticed something was wrong as soon as she returned from the walk to Cleughbrae. ‘You all right, lass? What has Susie Ashbury been doing to you?’

  Hope tried to shrug his comments off. It was her problem. But her thoughts grew more and more confused. By the following evening, she needed to talk. When they sat down to eat their evening meal she found herself blurting out, ‘Susie told me about my mother, about her growing up at Cleughbrae.’

  ‘Aye, I mind Elspeth Calvert. She was a quiet wee thing. Shame about all that adoption malarkey.’

  ‘But the thing was, she wasn’t adopted.’ It was the first time Hope had said these words out loud.

  ‘Aye, I know.’

  ‘You know?’ Hope stared at him, stunned all over again. How could he know this, her family’s dark secret?

  ‘Once Jane Calvert started telling people about it you couldn’t shut her up. It fair took us by surprise to begin with, but they were aye ones for keeping secrets, the Irving family.’

  ‘The Irving family?’ said Hope, confused.

  ‘Jane was an Irving, didn’t you know? It was Joseph’s family, the Calverts, who were brought up at Cleughbrae. Five boys there were, if I mind right, and Joseph the youngest. The Irvings lived in one of those cottages near the school and they liked to keep themselves to themselves, for all they lived in the middle of the village. Of course, Jane’s father was dead by the time it all came out. I know what he would have made of it.’

  Hope swallowed hard. Suddenly, she felt she wanted to cry. He was talking about her family. Mr Jackson actually knew and remembered them, knew things about them and about her she was only just learning. From what he said, it sounded like the whole village knew. She felt quite ill. It wasn’t right. Why hadn’t anybody told her sooner?

  Mr Jackson obviously expected her to ask more questions. But now she found she didn’t want to know. She hastened to finish her meal and clear away so she could retreat to the sanctuary of her bedroom. This second revelation, that the whole village knew her secret before she did, was almost harder to come to terms with than the first one.

  Hope didn’t sleep well in the nights following her conversations with Susie and then Mr Jackson. She managed to get through the days, more or less. She avoided Susie by saying Mr Jackson had taken a turn for the worse. It was partly true: he was certainly very tired. She avoided talking to Mr Jackson by simply ignoring it every time he made reference to her family. And she kept away from the villagers. Even the Mackenzies no longer seemed the open friendly family she had admired. They had all known and no one had said anything.

  She couldn’t stop thinking, though. She rose early one Sunday morning and decided to take a walk down to the graveyard. From Mr Jackson’s words she assumed this was where her grandparents were buried. She couldn’t yet bear to return to Cleughbrae, but she wanted to do something. Maybe this would help sort out her jumbled thoughts.

  She obtained Mr Jackson’s permission to take Lucy with her and set off down to the old graveyard down by the river.

  Nobody had been buried here for many years, but the grass underfoot was kept reasonably short and the pathways weeded. Hope wandered along them in the cool early morning, wondering what on earth she was looking for. There were so many gravestones, all the same dark red sandstone, but in varying degrees of decay. Some were so covered with liche
n or leant at such a drunken angle she couldn’t read the words. Others were still upright and perfectly legible.

  Without realising it, she found herself drawn in. Once you read one stone you couldn’t resist thinking about those long ago people, and then moving on to the next to find out more.

  There were certain family names that cropped up again and again. Thorburn and Mackenzie and Angus were very common.

  And then, all of a sudden, she found the one she was looking for. Calvert. Joseph Calvert. Her mouth went dry as she stood before it and slowly read the inscription.

  In loving memory of Joseph Calvert who died at Cleughbrae 10th Sept 1963 aged 58 years. Also Jane Irving Calvert his wife who died at Cleughbrae 30th January 1983 aged 77 years. THY WILL BE DONE.

  At the top of the gravestone were two carved stone flowers. Otherwise it was plain and very moving in its simplicity. Hope stared at it for a long time. In loving memory. In loving memory. Joseph Calvert had been loved. What about Jane? Somehow she thought Jane was less loveable and yet she was the one who had chosen those words, she had loved Joseph.

  Hope turned away. It was time to take Lucy home.

  As she left the graveyard she saw a figure in the neighbouring field. He raised his hand in greeting and she realised it was Robbie Mackenzie, now approaching the fence to say hello. It was surprisingly good to see Robbie again, to chat casually about this and that. He was very easy to talk to. He told her about the stag weekend he was arranging for his brother and how, when it was over, he was looking forward to doing some work on the upland bogs. Hope had no idea what ‘upland bogs’ were, but was flattered he wanted to discuss them with her. As she headed back to Kirkside she found herself thinking of Robbie and not her family problems, and feeling far more cheerful.

  Robbie really wasn’t looking forward to the stag weekend. Nine men were going to camp at Knockencraig Bothy, which meant an awful lot of food and drink to organise. At least they were all sorting out their own bedding and, as the building only took six, Callum had said he’d bring along a tent. They were to meet up at Johnnie Macmillan’s place, the nearest to the start of the path, at midday on Saturday. Robbie would then distribute the food and drink between them and they would set off. He’d warned them all to leave plenty of room in their backpacks!

  The weather was looking promising. Maybe it wasn’t going to be too bad.

  ‘Thank goodness we got away,’ said Luke as they pulled out of St Ann’s Bridge and headed west. ‘I thought Dad was never going to finish with things he needed us to do.’

  ‘Or Clare with suggestions about what you should and shouldn’t take,’ said Robbie with a grin. ‘Lucky mobiles don’t work up there or she’d be checking up on you all night.’

  Luke just smiled. He didn’t seem to mind.

  The walk from the Macmillan’s farm to Knockencraig normally took about four hours but with their extra load, they had allowed five. This would mean arriving late afternoon which left plenty of time to put up the tent, build a fire, and generally get themselves sorted for a long, lazy evening.

  The bothy was set on the banks of a lochan, just off the Southern Upland Way. It was a beautiful location, with the dark cliff of the Capple Craig to the rear and the hills rising all around. The rampant growth of grass and bracken in the summer was already starting to die back, giving hints of yellow and brown to the vibrant green Robbie had been enjoying so much. But every season was different, and all had something to treasure.

  ‘Phew, glad I didn’t remember how far this was or I wouldn’t have agreed to come,’ said Callum as they arrived on the patch of flattened grass in front of the bothy.

  ‘You townies need to get a bit fitter,’ said Luke, tossing aside his own pack. It was true he had carried more than anyone except Robbie, and not struggled at all.

  ‘Going to those poncy gyms isn’t nearly as good for you as some honest farm work,’ agreed Johnnie Macmillan, who worked with his father on their family farm.

  ‘Nothing wrong with being a townie,’ said Chris. He now lived in Edinburgh where he worked as a solicitor. He was a tall, very thin man who was only now growing out of his teenage gangliness. ‘I bet I could get up those cliffs twice as quick as the rest of you.’

  ‘Bet you couldn’t,’ said Luke, eyeing them with interest. As a boy he’d always been the one most likely to climb on the hay ricks or the barn roofs – and then fall off, ending up in Accident and Emergency.

  ‘Hey, we’re here for food, drink, and the views,’ said Robbie quickly. ‘We haven’t any kit to go climbing.’

  ‘Who said anything about kit?’ said Chris, waving languidly towards the dark rock. ‘Don’t you know the big thing now is free climbing? I’ve tried it at Ratho a few times. The adrenaline kick you get is awesome.’

  ‘Let’s get the fire going, shall we?’ said Robbie, keen to change the subject. He didn’t want them to start doing anything stupid. His father had made it quite clear whose fault it would be if Luke didn’t arrive back in one piece.

  Fortunately, once they had cracked open some beers, climbing seemed to be forgotten. The guys were more Luke’s friends than Robbie’s but he knew them well enough to join in the teasing and catch up on the gossip about mutual acquaintances. The lengthy discussions about football left him cold, but you couldn’t have everything.

  Whilst they argued about Queens’ chances of promotion in the coming season his mind drifted to how different it was up here with so many people around. To be honest, he preferred it when he was on his own. Luke’s friends were a good crowd, but they were rowdy.

  Robbie wondered what it would be like to bring Hope McIlroy. She was the very opposite of rowdy. He thought, somehow, she would enjoy the tranquil beauty of the place. He smiled at the thought of her drifting along in the twilight in those strange floaty clothes of hers. Maybe not the most practical for the climb up here, though.

  The evening was, amazingly, a great success. They all drank a little too much, especially Luke, who was egged on to try whisky chasers after his beers. But they were tired after the long hike and, to Robbie’s vast relief, turned in not long after midnight.

  After a good night’s sleep, the crowd were in high spirits again, helped no doubt by the vast breakfast Robbie found himself cooking for everyone. His mother had insisted he take all the ingredients as she was sure a proper breakfast would be welcome. It was, but it was also hard work! Maybe he should appreciate his mother more.

  ‘What are we going to do this morning?’ said Luke. ‘We don’t need to head back until eleven-ish. Who’s up for walking to the top of Nether Coomb?’ He gestured to the nearest of the hills, showing mistily in the morning sunshine.

  ‘I vote for climbing Capple Craig,’ said Chris. ‘I don’t know when I’ll next be here and it looks a great wee cliff.’

  ‘I’m not really sure we have time for either,’ said Robbie. ‘It’ll take a while to clear up.’ As a countryside ranger he was determined to leave the bothy in a pristine state.

  ‘I’m keen to have a shot at the cliff,’ said Chris, ignoring Robbie. He waved his long-fingered hand towards it. ‘Who’s up for a shot?’

  ‘I’ll give it a go,’ said Luke immediately.

  ‘I’ve no head for heights,’ said Callum. ‘I’ll pack up the tent and help Robbie with the tidying.’

  ‘Hey, who said I was in charge of tidying?’ But Robbie found himself losing the argument. Freddie and the Smith brothers said they’d brought their rods and wanted to try some fishing. The rest were determined to give the cliff a go, or at least watch Chris attempt it.

  ‘Look, don’t do anything stupid, OK?’ said Robbie as they set off.

  At least he could see them from here. They wouldn’t even be out of earshot. There wasn’t much time, an hour at the most, and then he would shout them to come back and they would set off home. He was looking forward to getting back. Being the only responsible one amongst nine men was proving more of a strain than he had expected.

  The p
acking was almost finished when Robbie’s attention was drawn to the cliffs. Callum yelled, ‘Crikey! What on earth …?’

  Robbie ran out of the house, almost hitting his head on the low lintel, and turned to look up the hillside. Three figures were strung out across the face of the cliffs, a good thirty metres from the ground. The first he could identify as Chris from the red hair and slim build. The second, he saw with mounting panic, had to be Luke. He would recognise him anywhere and, besides, no one else was wearing a green T-shirt. He wasn’t sure who the third figure was, but that one was not so high and already retreating.

  He could hear the sound of their voices carried by the wind, but not their actual words.

  ‘I think they’re stuck,’ said Callum.

  ‘Chris isn’t. He’s carrying on. But Luke …’ There was something wrong with the way Luke was moving, or not moving. He seemed to be hunched against the dark face of the rock, frozen.

  Robbie began to run. Luke was a fool. Why had he gone up so high? Why could he never resist a challenge? He was almost there, his lungs pumping from the effort, when it happened.

  He heard Luke’s muffled words of ‘I can’t …’ and then one foot slipped and he lost his hand-hold. He tumbled in what seemed like slow motion down the face of the crag, bouncing off it at one point, coming to rest in a sickening heap on the short grass at the foot.

  Chapter Nine

  Susie appeared at Kirkside after church. Hope was still trying to avoid her and any talk of Cleughbrae, but for once Susie wasn’t interested in her goddaughter.

  ‘I thought you’d like to know,’ she said breathlessly to Hope and Mr Jackson, who were both in the kitchen. ‘I’ve just heard. One of the Mackenzie boys has been badly injured, they’re taking him straight to hospital.’

  Hope looked at her in horror.

  Mr Jackson said, ‘Been hurt on the farm, like? That’ll be Luke then.’

  ‘No, not on the farm. They were away up in the hills for the weekend and something has happened. I’m not sure what. I think they’ve had to get Mountain Rescue out. Simon has gone round to see Maria now, to see if there is anything we can do. I’d better catch up with him.’