When the Heather Blooms

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘Och, you’ll soon get used to it, though it takes a wee while to know which farmers might give you problems and which creamery workers are a bit slap-dash.’ She grinned. ‘Janey will make a good lab assistant by the time we’re finished training her. She’s from a farm so she’s aware of the tricks some of them try.’

  Billy was going to Cheshire on the twelfth to attend the sale of a well-known pedigree herd. He asked Andrew if he and Fraser would like to go too.

  ‘We-ell,’ Andrew hesitated. ‘Fraser and Jocky Conley are busy overhauling the binder, ready to start the harvest,’

  ‘I could help Jocky,’ Peter volunteered, ‘if Fraser wants to go?’

  ‘It would be good for you to see round another farm and another part of the country, Fraser,’ Andrew said.

  ‘Yes, they have a milking parlour and a bulk milk tank. I’m looking forward to seeing that as much as the cows,’ Billy said.

  ‘All right then,’ Fraser nodded, ‘so long as you don’t expect me to be interested in the pedigrees. That was always Libby’s interest. I’m a commercial man.’

  ‘We shall need to be away very early. The sale starts at ten and we want a look at the cattle before they begin selling.’

  ‘Are you meaning to buy?’ Andrew asked.

  ‘No, not this time,’ Billy shook his head, ‘though there’s some excellent breeding and it would have been a grand chance. It’s a dispersal of the whole herd, not just a selection. The owner died of a heart attack. If I’d known I wouldn’t have bought a combine but we can’t afford any more expense this year.’

  ‘You’ve got a combine?’ Fraser’s eyes widened. He was all for modern machinery and change. Sometimes he felt frustrated by his father’s caution and it made him irritable. ‘You lucky so and so,’ he muttered. ‘I keep telling father what a lot of labour and hard graft it would save us. We’re stuck with cutting and stooking sheaves and carting them in, not to mention all the threshing that’s to do in the winter. I expect we shall still be doing it next century.’

  ‘Don’t exaggerate, Fraser,’ Andrew said. ‘I’ve made a lot of changes in the last ten years, let alone fifty. I haven’t even lived fifty years myself, damn it, but I’ve seen plenty of changes. A combine is a huge capital expense and it’s only used about two weeks in the year. We’ll wait and see how Billy gets on with his.’

  ‘It’s a second-hand one from Yorkshire,’ Billy said. ‘Mr Butler’s neighbour has bought a bigger one but he grows a big acreage of wheat. Mick’s father thought this was a good bargain for me.’ He glanced at Fraser’s set young face. ‘I couldn’t have afforded a new one either,’ he admitted. ‘Maybe you’ll let me combine a couple of fields at Langmune if I get my harvest finished in good time. I’ll pick you both up at a quarter to six on Tuesday morning.’

  Lachie was cross at being left at home all day. Victoria was feeling too out of sorts to humour him so when Mimi telephoned to ask if he could go with her and Willie to the blacksmith’s she agreed, on condition he was back in time to bring the cows in from the field for milking in the afternoon. There would be only her and Peter for dinner and there was plenty of soup left and a meat and potato pie with onions and carrots. She sat down to ease her aching back. She had not slept well for several nights now and she had been up early to cook Fraser and Andrew a good breakfast before they set out for Cheshire. The house was quiet and Victoria dozed. She wakened with a start and with an excruciating pain which seemed to start in her back and spread right through her. Beads of perspiration coated her upper lip and her brow. She wiped them away with the back of her hand. As the pain receded she closed her eyes thankfully. But it returned. The baby couldn’t be coming so early. It must be something she had eaten.

  Chapter Eight

  Victoria soon realised the baby was not only coming, it was coming faster than she could believe. She glanced up at the clock, ticking away the seconds. The steady swing of the pendulum held her mesmerised until another violent contraction shook her. It was midday and she had not even put the soup on to warm. She tried to stand; a rush of fluids told her the waters had broken; she must telephone …

  ‘Whatever’s the matter? Aunt Victoria, are you …? Is it the baby?’

  ‘Thank goodness you’re here, Peter,’ Victoria gasped. ‘Can you telephone for Doctor Burns, please?’

  ‘OK.’ Minutes later he turned to her with a frown. ‘The doctor is out on a call. They asked if you’re sure it’s the baby. I told them you’re certain.’ He saw Victoria was in serious pain now. ‘Shall I telephone for an ambulance? Aren’t you supposed to go to hospital?’

  ‘I-I don’t think there’ll be time. Phone the midwife, please, Peter. Then bring some towels and a sheet from the airing cupboard …’ she broke off as the pain made her gasp. ‘Lay them on the floor in the wee sitting room. I d-don’t think I can manage the st-stairs. Quickly …’

  Peter ran upstairs first and prepared a space in the room as fast as he could before he telephoned the midwife. By the time he had contacted her Victoria had made her way through to the room. He hesitated, wondering whether he should go in.

  ‘Peter!’

  ‘I’m here, Aunt Victoria. What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Boil a small pan of hot water and put in the white tape from my mending box and the scissors. Sterilise them. I-I …’ she broke off as another spasm convulsed her. ‘Bring a white towel and a blanket from the cot to wrap the baby in. It – it’s coming.’

  Peter flew up the stairs. He didn’t panic. He had never done anything like this but he had been brought up in a household where emergencies were part of life. He had absolute faith his aunt would tell him what to do. Much later he marvelled that he had felt so calm.

  ‘Shall I phone for Libby?’

  ‘She’s at work.’

  ‘Aunt Mary?’

  ‘N-no t-time …’ She gave a convulsive groan and Peter realised the baby’s head was there and seconds later it slithered into the world. He knew babies had to cry to clear their lungs but this one was already howling its tiny purple head off as he knelt beside Victoria and wrapped it in the soft white towel as well as he could with the navel still attached. He felt an amazing feeling of satisfaction, but he was not so sure he could deal with the tape and scissors.

  Victoria was instructing him what to do next when they heard the voice of the midwife calling. Peter ran to the door and greeted her with profound relief.

  ‘Well!’ she gasped, ‘Well, I never …’ After the initial shock she dealt with the baby then carried her through to the kitchen and handed her to Peter, still howling. ‘I’ll bathe her in a few minutes. You hold her and keep her warm, young man. You’ve done very well. I’ll deal with Mrs Pringle now.’

  Minutes later Doctor Burns arrived. The baby had stopped crying and was lying peacefully in Peter’s arms. She bustled through to the room.

  ‘The ambulance is on its way. They’ll soon have you and the baby into hospital.’

  ‘Hospital?’ Victoria echoed. ‘I’m not going to hospital now. The baby is born.’

  ‘I see.’ Doctor Burns pursed her lips.’ I don’t believe you ever meant to go to hospital.’ Steve Ritchie had won his bet after all. He had been convinced Mrs Pringle would have her baby at home; she had been certain she had persuaded her hospital was the best place. ‘You took a terrible risk leaving things so late before you called us. It’s a good job there were no complications and Mrs White was able to reach you in time. You were very foolish.’

  ‘But I didn’t deliver the wee mite. That young man through in the kitchen had everything under control by the time I arrived,’ Mrs White announced. ‘He was as calm as though he delivered babies every day.’

  ‘That’s disgraceful!’ Doctor Burns said. Victoria closed her eyes. She felt near to tears and completely drained.

  ‘It came on very suddenly …’ she protested.

  ‘I don’t think you ever intended going to hospital.’

  Peter could hear the doctor th
rough the open door. Why did they try to dictate other people’s lives? He wondered, thinking of his stepfather. He moved to the door.

  ‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘Uncle Andrew would never have gone away if he’d thought the baby might be born. When I came in it was just starting. It came so fast.’

  ‘Well I think you would still be better in hospital, you and the baby,’ Doctor Burns persisted.

  ‘No,’ Victoria insisted. ‘Peter will you make me a cup of tea, please, and then telephone Mary? She’ll come over. And put the soup on for your dinner. You must be famished. There’s a meat and potato pie in the bottom oven. I hope it’s not burned.’ She tried to stifle a yawn.

  ‘I think Mrs Pringle has made up her mind, Doctor,’ Mrs White said. ‘I’ll get them both cleaned up and I’ll help her up to bed when she’s had some tea and toast. What are you going to call your wee girl, m’dear?’

  ‘I think I shall have to let Peter choose since he came to our rescue. I don’t know what I’d have done without you, laddie,’ she smiled at Peter as she accepted the cup of tea he had brought. Doctor Burns declined the offer of tea and went on her way but Mrs White sipped hers gratefully.

  ‘It’s not often Doctor Burns is so cross,’ she remarked. ‘She must have been called out during the night or had a bad morning. Never mind, all’s well that ends well and we must be thankful you had such a grand young man to help.’ A little while later she announced, ‘she’s a fine baby with a good pair of lungs and she weighs six pounds and six ounces.’

  ‘How small she is,’ Victoria exclaimed, ‘All my other babies were nearer eight pounds.’

  Andrew was amazed when he returned home that evening to find Libby, Mary, and his mother there and no sign of Victoria or Lachie. He had seen Peter was still in the stack yard working on the binder with Jocky Conley. Before he could even unlace his boots and pull them off Libby was telling him the news.

  ‘You have another daughter, Dad,’ she grinned. ‘Mum’s upstairs and we can’t tear Lachie away from them.’

  ‘What? The baby has been born already? Here? At home? I thought …’ Andrew stood up, one boot on and one off. His ruddy face had drained of colour.

  ‘Everything is fine, Andrew,’ Mary soothed. ‘I think the babe came very quickly and took everyone by surprise, but it’s better that way now they’re both all right,’ she added, recalling her own long and difficult labour.

  ‘B-but, there was no sign this morning when we left,’ Andrew said in bewilderment, placing his boots side by side and padding in his stocking feet towards the stairs. He bounded up them two at a time and pushed open the door. Although it was August someone had kindled a small fire in the grate to make sure the baby didn’t get a chill. He guessed that would be Mary. Victoria lay back against the pillows, her eyes closed, her mouth curved in a tender smile as she listened to Lachie singing to the baby as he rocked the crib. He moved forward on silent feet. All he could see of his new daughter was a white cocoon and a tiny fist beside her cheek.

  ‘Dad!’ Lachie exclaimed. ‘You’re home.’ Victoria opened her eyes at his exclamation.

  ‘Ah, Andrew.’ She smiled up at him but he could see she was tired. ‘I’m glad you’re home.’ He felt a lump in his throat as he bent to kiss her. Lachie crept away.

  ‘They’re kissing up there,’ he announced in disgust and everyone laughed.

  ‘I’d better get home to Billy now,’ Libby smiled. ‘Will you tell Mum I shall be back first thing in the morning, Granny? Mr Whitworth has agreed to me staying off the next two weeks so long as I go back and finish training Janey later. I think Julie Dunlop would come up and help Mum on the days I can’t be here.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Libby, we’ll all help,’ Mary said. ‘I shall get no peace until I bring Mimi over to see her new cousin.’

  ‘Right, I’ll get away home now then.’ Libby picked up her car keys but she was surprised when Fraser accompanied her outside.

  ‘You’ll get a surprise too, when you get home,’ he told her.

  ‘Oh?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Billy didn’t buy any heifers, did he? I know how good the breeding was but he knows we can’t afford to buy any. He promised faithfully we wouldn’t get into debt after what happened to Charlotte’s mother.’

  ‘Och, you’ll have to wait and see,’ Fraser grinned. ‘Anyway I thought you were supposed to trust the person you marry?’

  ‘I do trust Billy, but …’ She glared at Fraser’s teasing grin. ‘You’re winding me up. You’d better go and see your baby sister and Mum before she falls asleep. She was struggling to stay awake until you and Dad were home.’

  When Fraser entered the bedroom he found his father stroking the cheek of the tiny bundle in the crib. His mother looked exhausted but happy. He wondered if he would ever love anyone like his parents loved each other. He went to stand beside his father, looking down at the sleeping baby.

  ‘What are we going to call her, Mum?’

  ‘I think Peter should choose, since he helped her into the world, but he says we should choose her first name but he hopes we might call her Catriona as well.’

  ‘We could always call her Trina. Or Tina or …’ Fraser grinned wickedly ‘or Cat …?’

  ‘Och, Fraser! You’re always inventing nicknames. We must choose something you can’t shorten. Have you a favourite name?’

  ‘We could call her after you.’

  ‘No, no. Wait until you get a wee girl then you can name her after her granny.’ To Victoria’s surprise Fraser’s face coloured up and she eyed him, then added, ‘but I hope that will not be for a long time. You need to enjoy your life while you’re young.’ Fraser didn’t meet her eyes as he mumbled, ‘I’ll leave you to sleep.’ He made his way to the door and escaped his mother’s steady gaze.

  ‘I wonder if Fraser has his eye on a girl?’ she wondered aloud.

  ‘I wouldn’t be surprised,’ Andrew smiled. ‘I hear Jocky and Peter teasing him sometimes when they’re working together.’

  ‘I hope it’s not serious, he’s far too young. He’s only eighteen.’

  ‘Don’t fret about Fraser,’ Andrew said. ‘Get some rest now and I’ll be up soon.’ He kissed her tenderly.

  When Libby arrived back at Home Farm Billy was eager to hear all about the baby and how Peter had coped. He didn’t mention any surprises and she guessed Fraser had been teasing, winding her up as he used to do when they were at home together. She asked about Billy’s day and he told her some of the local farmers had been at the sale and a couple of them had bought cows. They had both had enough excitement and they were tired and ready for bed.

  It was just after three in the morning when Libby was wakened by the sound of a lorry in the farm yard. Billy had heard it too and he was out of bed and scrabbling into his trousers.

  ‘The driver said they wouldn’t get this far north before morning,’ he muttered.

  ‘What driver? Why is that lorry here? Billy …?’ But he was running down the stairs. By the time Libby had pulled on some clothes and followed him Billy was already in the yard, guiding a huge cattle lorry as it reversed up to one of the sheds.

  So Billy had bought a pedigree animal, Libby thought, filled with a mixture of anxiety and excitement; no wonder he had distracted her with questions about Peter delivering the baby last night. He knew how keen she was to breed a pedigree herd but not if it landed him in debt. So many breeders got carried away and paid high prices in the belief they would get the money back when they had progeny to sell, but Libby knew animals could die and prove a dead loss, or if their progeny did not always breed true they could be worthless. It was a gamble, albeit an exciting one for those who enjoyed breeding.

  She watched as the driver lowered the back door of the lorry to form a ramp and opened the guide gates at the sides. She moved forward to help while the lorry driver coaxed a neat, well-groomed young heifer down the ramp into the shed, but he didn’t stop at one, or two. Her face paled as the fourth heifer trotted into the Home Farm cattle y
ard and sniffed around the clean deep straw, while the lorry driver asked Billy for directions for the next farm where he had to deliver a cow, and another farm with a delivery of two stirks. Then he climbed back up into his cab and Libby watched him draw away before she turned to Billy. He was smiling, leading her into the shed.

  ‘Come and inspect the latest additions to Home Farm and the Prinnox herd.’ They had agreed on a combination of their joint surnames for the name of their herd. They dreamed of building it up together.

  ‘Th-they look good heifers,’ she said, her expression troubled, ‘but we agreed, Billy. You know we have no spare capital …’ He came to her then and hugged her close.

  ‘I know that. Your father asked which ones you had picked out of the catalogue for the best breeding. Of the six you had picked three of them were backed up by their confirmation.’ He pointed out three of the four heifers. ‘The other one I fancied for her looks and your father agreed, though she’s not so good on paper.’

  ‘B-but I don’t understand? Are you saying these are to go to Langmune?’

  ‘That’s what I thought when your father bid for them, but when we went to arrange the transport he booked them to Home Farm. Then he said they were his gift to you now that you and I are farming in partnership and you’re coming home so we can work together. He seems pleased about that. He says you were always keen on the cattle, even when you were young.’

  ‘I was but I didn’t expect …’ Her voice was husky and she chewed hard on her lower lip to stop it trembling. Billy hugged her closer.

  ‘It’s what he wanted. I was as surprised as you are. At first I thought Fraser was going to be jealous and angry. I know he has set his heart on having a combine harvester but your father had been saying earlier that he couldn’t afford to buy one. On the drive home your father explained to him that he and Lachie would each inherit a farm one day but he couldn’t give you anything like that, but you were still his child. He said four pedigree heifers were nothing in comparison to owning acres of land but he hoped they would be the nucleus for our own pedigree herd.’