When the Heather Blooms

by Gwen Kirkwood

  ‘Your father wouldn’t agree,’ Peter said, but he unbuttoned his coat and drew her into it, holding her close. He glanced towards the lighted windows on the far side of the farm yard, aware that Willie trusted him implicitly. Mimi slipped her arms inside his jacket and held him tightly. Then she drew back and pulled off first one glove and then the other with her small even teeth, stuffing the gloves in Peter’s pocket. ‘Now I can feel your ribs,’ she chuckled, running her fingertips up and down the thin material of his shirt. The effect of the wine blew away her usual shyness but she was unaware of the sensations she was arousing in Peter.

  ‘I think two can play at that game,’ he whispered against her ear. He began to open the buttons of her coat. Mimi didn’t resist, nor did she object when Peter’s finger imitated her own. His arms were warm and strong and as he held her his lips moved over her soft skin, nibbling her ear lobe and nuzzling the soft hollow at her throat. He drew back a little but it was impossible to see Mimi’s expression in the darkness of the shed. She snuggled closer returning his kisses as he eased her jumper from the waistband of her slacks so that his fingers could explore her silky skin. Mimi drew in her breath as his fingers reached the thin material of her bra. Peter’s desire mounted like molten fire in his groin.

  ‘You’re so beautiful, Mimi,’ he murmured hoarsely against her neck. The pads of his thumbs moved over her breasts, feeling her nipples harden in response, but still there was that flimsy barrier and he reached around and undid the two small hooks which held it in place. Mimi gasped against his neck as the material was released, he hesitated then but her arms tightened and she gave a small whimper, willing him to go on. He did. Everything about Mimi was so neat and perfectly proportioned. He lowered his head and nuzzled the silky soft skin until his mouth found the hardened nipples. He could feel Mimi’s fingers in his hair and her response was no longer that of a girl. She was a woman, and everything he could desire.

  ‘Dear God, Mimi, have you any idea what you do to me?’ he groaned as he lifted his head and found her mouth again.

  ‘I-I think so …’ she whispered, and her hand moved to the hardness he couldn’t disguise. He held her closer, his hands cupping her neat little buttocks, pressing her to him. Mimi moved her hand between them, fumbling at his buttons.

  ‘No, Mimi, no,’ he gasped.

  ‘N-no …? she whispered uncertainly.

  ‘I love you Mimi. I think I’ve always loved you, but this … this is … Do you know what you’re doing to me?

  ‘I want to make you feel as – as wonderful as you make me …’

  ‘You are. You’re driving me wild with desire for more, and more … I want all of you Mimi …’ He buried his head against her breast. ‘I love you and if I let you have your way I couldn’t be responsible for the consequences.’

  ‘But it is what you want, Peter?’ Mimi asked. He heard her uncertainty.

  ‘It’s what I want more than anything in the world, Mimi, but not like this, my love. I’d never forgive myself if I took advantage of you now, tonight, when we’ve both drunk enough to drown discretion. When I take you, Mimi I want it to be as my wife. I don’t want you to regret anything we do.’ He was speaking urgently now. ‘God knows I’m tempted, sorely tempted to make you mine … But I can’t betray your trust, sweet Mimi, or the trust your father has in me. My aunt and uncle have made me welcome as part of their family, I can’t let them down. Please, Mimi, don’t tempt me further, for I can’t guarantee I can resist.’ He took her hand and held it against him.

  ‘Do you understand the way you make me feel, Mimi, my darling?’

  ‘Yes,’ she whispered and her lips tickled his ear.

  ‘We’d better go in or your father will be coming to search for us.’ They fastened each other’s buttons, stopping several times to exchange a lingering kiss. Peter hoped he had dusted the wisps of hay from her coat.

  ‘You must be sure to check before you wear it again,’ he warned as they made their way hand in hand towards the house. ‘You can’t tell folks you feed the hens in your best winter coat.’

  Mimi was surprised but relieved to find her father was not home yet. She felt everyone must know she had been kissed and loved. She didn’t feel in the least bit sleepy as she set a pan of milk on the cooker to make cocoa. Half an hour later as they sipped their drink at the kitchen table they heard singing in the yard.

  ‘I belong tae … Glasgae!

  Dear auld Glasgae toon …’

  The back door crashed open and shut again. There was a loud hiccup.

  ‘There’s something the maeter wi’ Glasgae …’

  Mimi’s eyes met Peter’s as she clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laughter.

  ‘Dad’s drunk! I’ve never seen him drunk before …’

  ‘He’s happy tonight,’ Peter chuckled. ‘I don’t know what he’ll be like in the morning though.’

  ‘Whatever is he doing?’ Mimi wondered and went through to the back porch to see her father struggling to remove wellingtons. ‘Where did you get those, Dad? You went in your shoes …’

  ‘’ndrew’s,’ he muttered. ‘We’s cam ’cross th’burn. Carried ma shoon tae kep ’em dry.’ He held up one shining leather shoe but there was no sign of its mate. Mimi guessed he had dropped it on the way and hoped it was not in the burn. She helped him into the kitchen. Peter stood up, keeping his face straight with an effort.

  ‘Happy New Year, Willie!’ He held out a hand. Willie took it in both of his, blinking as he sought to focus on Peter’s face.

  ‘Th-thappy, New yer, tae ’oo tae.’

  ‘Do you want a mug of cocoa, Dad?’

  ‘Cocoa,’ Willie echoed with a frown as though he had never heard the word before. He blinked. ‘It’s ma bedtime, is’t? Th-think I’ll tak a g-g-glass-ss thwater.’

  ‘You’d better drink it before you go up then,’ Mimi said, hiding her smiles as she filled him a glass of cold water. He wobbled precariously, clung to the table with one hand, and drank the glass dry with the other.

  ‘Shall I help you upstairs, Willie?’ Peter offered. Willie leered at him with his head on one side and began to grin. Peter guided him to the stairs and they stumbled up it awkwardly. When Peter returned to the kitchen he was grinning.

  ‘He’s sleeping in his suit. I reckon you’ll need to press his trousers before he can wear them. We’re not quite as bad as that, are we, Mimi?’

  ‘No,’ she giggled. ‘They must have had a good night, Uncle Andrew and Uncle Josh and Dad together.’

  ‘Probably reliving their youth, but at least they’ve helped your father get through into another year, though I’ll bet he has a sore head in the morning.’

  ‘It is morning,’ Mimi reminded him, ‘and we’re supposed to eat one of Aunt Victoria’s dinners later on. You know you’re sleeping in the downstairs bedroom, Peter?’

  ‘Yes. But I’d love to tuck you up in your bed like your father,’ he teased. He drew her into his arms and felt her tremble. His kiss was gentle. ‘One day …’ he said, ‘we shall go to bed together with a wedding ring on your finger and your father’s blessing, at least I hope so …’

  When the euphoria of the New Year celebrations had passed and life had returned to normal Mimi realised she had allowed herself impossible dreams. She couldn’t abandon her father to live in isolation at High Bowie. She could never leave him. How could he spend the day out on the hill tending his sheep, and come home hungry and weary to an empty house. He didn’t know the first thing about cooking, or washing, or cleaning, and who would look after the poultry and collect the eggs and clean and pack them every day? She shivered. Her conscience wouldn’t allow her to do it.

  She and Libby resumed their evening classes. Libby sensed her younger cousin’s dejection but she made no comment. Mimi had enough problems to sort out without her prying.

  Peter couldn’t believe how undecided he felt over McNay’s offer of the tenancy of Darlonside land. Now that he knew Mimi returned his feelings he
longed to be married to her, but even when she had her eighteenth birthday would it be fair to tie her down to married life so soon, even if her father would agree. He had seen Mimi twice since Hogmanay and she had been subdued; worse she seemed to avoid being alone with him. She had denied him any opportunity to steal a kiss. He had an uneasy feeling that she was already regretting her eager responses at Hogmanay, and yet she had seemed so sure, so sincere, even allowing for the effects of the wine. He yearned for her more than ever now. He had a good job which he enjoyed, it was well paid and secure, with a substantial house which only needed a woman’s touch and a little money and effort to make it into a comfortable home. He could picture living there with Mimi, just the two of them.

  Until now his sole ambition had been to farm on his own. But a rented farm carried no guarantees of security or regular income. There would only be him to do the work and no paid holidays or free weekends. He would be responsible, but that was what he had believed he wanted more than anything else in life. All his capital, and more besides, would be needed to buy stock and machinery, seeds and fertilisers, and he wouldn’t even have a house if he sold Ivy Cottage to finance his venture. Who could tell what the future held? If there had been a house with the tenancy at least he would have had some hope of offering Mimi a home by next year. A year? He groaned. How could he wait a year when he loved Mimi so much?

  He chewed hard on his lower lip. He had been fortunate to be welcomed by his Aunt Victoria; he had been accepted as part of the wider Pringle family from the beginning. It was wonderful to belong and the last thing he wanted was to betray their trust by taking advantage of Mimi.

  When he went to see Willie on the first night Mimi returned to evening classes he still hadn’t made up his mind what to do. Willie was sympathetic.

  ‘It’s a big step to take, laddie, but if it’s what you want you should seize the opportunity and don’t let anything stand in your way.’

  ‘Not even a wife?’

  ‘A wife?’ Willie’s eyes widened and he stroked his chin. ‘You’re thinking of taking a wife are you, Peter? You’ve met the right girl?’

  ‘I know who I want to marry,’ Peter said, ‘but I know I must wait a year.’

  ‘It takes a lot longer than that to make your mark in farming, laddie.’ Willie thought back to the time he had gone to Maggie Lennox and begged for more time to find the rent. He shuddered. ‘I reckon if the lassie is the right kind o’ wife she’ll work beside ye and help ye, as my Mary did. There’s no joy for a man living on his own on a place like this. I could never have made a go of High Bowie without Mary.’

  Later, when Willie had gone to bed and he and Mimi were still sipping their cocoa he sensed she was uneasy and he wondered if she was afraid he would want to love her as he had out in the cart shed on Hogmanay. He sought to reassure her.

  ‘Don’t look so anxious, Mimi. I shall never do anything you don’t want me to do. I shall not be coming up here for the next few weeks anyway. My own ewes will be lambing and I must keep as close an eye on them as I can. I love you; I want you for my wife, but I know I must wait until you’re older and I promise you can trust me until then.’

  ‘Oh Peter, it’s not that. I do trust you. B-but you’re wasting your time with me …’ Her mouth trembled and he realised she was near to tears.

  ‘What is it then? Are you regretting what happened between us? We did nothing so bad you know.’

  Mimi shook her head and her voice trembled.

  ‘I can never marry you, or anyone else, Peter. I can’t leave my father here at High Bowie all alone.’

  Willie’s words echoed in Peter’s brain … “No joy living on your own on a place like this.” He remembered Billy saying something similar about his mother too. He liked and respected Willie Pringle, but surely it wasn’t right that Mimi should sacrifice her own life to look after her father? Or was he just being as selfish as his stepfather had always accused him of being? All he knew was that Mimi was the girl he loved and he longed to make her his wife.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Peter sighed as he considered Mr Stacey’s question regarding his decision.

  ‘Well, Peter, you know both Mr Gerald and I would like to keep you here as manager. You’re doing a good job and you’re not afraid to lend a hand. The men like that in a boss. But when a man has made up his mind he wants another challenge, sooner or later he’s going to move on. I have a proposition to make.’

  ‘Oh? What sort of proposition?’

  ‘Well I can understand that if you sell your own cottage it would release extra capital and get you off to a good start at Darlonside. You have to move out of your house here if you give up your job as manager. We shall need it for whoever takes your place.’

  ‘Oh, I understand that,’ Peter assured him.

  ‘Of course you do, but Mr Gerald is willing to rent you the wee cottage down Fellows Lane. It isn’t very handy for Darlonside either but it’s only half a mile further for you to travel than your own cottage would be. To be honest we both think Mr McNay should have sold the lot and bought himself and his lady a bit of land and built new stables, but,’ he shrugged, ‘that’s not our business. Fellows Cottage will be a few shillings a week for rent or you can do a relief milking weekend once a month instead; it’s very small, just a butt and ben with the addition of a small kitchen and a water closet. Anyway, you can think about it but let us know soon if you’re thinking of leaving at the end of March.’

  Peter did think about it. Nothing was ideal, neither a farm without a house nor a cottage more than two miles from his stock, but he only had himself to consider. It seemed he had no prospects of taking a wife. Billy had told him the land on Darlonside was every bit as good as Home Farm, according to the late Sir William Crainby. Everybody had to start somewhere. He made up his mind to see Mr McNay that evening, five days later than he had promised.

  McNay seemed relieved that he was taking on the tenancy. He was ready to retire and would have moved away except for his wife’s insistence on keeping the stables and twenty-five acres. He had found the seasonal grazing tenants a headache and more trouble than he wanted. Peter wondered whether he was in good health. He seemed to have little interest in anything and he had lost weight.

  ‘What would happen to my lease, Mr McNay, if you decided to move and sell the farm?’

  ‘The farm goes to those lads of mine when I’m done with it, even though they’ve done nothing to deserve it,’ he added. ‘If it would ease your mind, lad, I’ll extend the lease to seven years and have it written in that it can’t be broken. If the farm was to sell in that time it would have to be with you as a sitting tenant until your lease expired.

  ‘I’d be happier with that guarantee,’ Peter said.

  ‘I realise things are not ideal for you as they are and you’re giving up a good job to have a go at farming on your own, but I’ve talked it over a dozen times and my wife insists we stay in the house and keep her stables.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘And I have to live with her. The rest o’ the buildings are not up to much. They were neglected when the farm belonged to the Darlonachie Estate. Since I bought it most of my money has gone on the stables and horses.’ He sounded weary.

  ‘You’ll put it all in writing, and signed by both of us?’

  ‘Aye, that’s fair enough,’ McNay nodded. ‘I’ll get the lease drawn up without delay and you can get your lawyer to check it before we sign, but I’m a man of my word and if I’m any judge of a man’s character I reckon you’re the same from what I saw of you last summer. Willie Pringle has a good word o’ you as well.’

  On his way back from McNay’s Peter saw Jim MacLean’s van outside Ivy Cottage so he called in to tell Alma he was prepared to sell the cottage if their offer of two thousand five hundred pounds still stood. He knew that was five hundred pounds more than a similar cottage had made a few months ago, but Ivy Cottage had a much bigger garden and it would allow them to extend the house and build a shed at the back for Jim’s plumb
ing business. Besides, he needed all the capital he could get if he wanted to keep his pedigree Suffolks. Alma and Jim were delighted he had reached a decision in their favour. When he left Peter envied them being all set to enjoy a happy married life but he sent up a silent prayer to his unknown benefactor and to Aunt Victoria for passing on the cottage to him. His ambition was not for himself, but for Mimi. He longed to be able to make her his wife.

  At the end of March he received an invitation to Alma and Jim’s wedding. It was a happy affair with all the Pringle family invited.

  ‘I’m like you, Peter,’ Alma laughed, ‘I’m happy to adopt them as my family. Josh is drawing up plans for us to extend the cottage, you know.’

  As they were leaving for their honeymoon Alma tossed her bouquet over her head, in the general direction of Mimi. Molly jumped high in the air and caught it amidst a great deal of laughter.

  ‘That means you’re going to be the next bride, little sister,’ Libby teased.

  ‘I’m never going to get married!’ Molly declared. ‘I’m going to be a farmer like Daddy.’

  ‘That bairn o’ yours has some firm ideas in her pretty head already, Andrew,’ Willie chuckled. Andrew laughed. ‘I hope you appreciate how lucky you’ve been to have such a good-natured lassie as Mimi for your daughter. She’ll make some lucky man a fine wife.’ The smile died from Willie’s weathered face and his eyes were filled with sadness.

  ‘I doubt if she’ll be that fortunate,’ he said, ‘unless it’s somebody with his eye on her inheritance.’

  ‘Och, Willie, don’t say that. Mimi’s a lovely lassie, and she’s far too discerning to be taken in by a scoundrel who only wants her for her money. It would be impossible for her to manage High Bowie on her own but it would make three times what you paid for it, especially now you’ve modernised the house. It’s been a good investment whatever happens.’ They went on talking but Peter moved away, out of earshot, and set off home.

  He settled into the tiny Fellows Cottage at the end of March and took over the tenancy of Darlonside on the first of April. He and Mr McNay had each had a valuation of the machinery, the sheep, and the remaining stock of hay and straw and they reached an amicable arrangement. Peter would take over everything and dispose of anything he didn’t want to keep. This saved Mr McNay the bother of arranging a farm sale. Peter was convinced the man was either ill or suffering from depression. He seemed to have no inclination to tackle anything which needed effort or organisation. Neither of his sons came near the farm. His wife was old enough to be Peter’s mother but she was a smart woman and didn’t look her age. She also fancied herself as attractive to all the opposite sex, whatever their age. Peter began to feel uncomfortable whenever she was around and he tried to avoid going near the dilapidated buildings if he knew she was in the vicinity of the stables.