Highland Sisters

by Anne Douglas

  ‘Sorry, Rosa, I know I shouldn’t go on – they’re doing their best in here. It’s just that it’s all so … unfair! Why should this happen to me? I’ve always been healthy; I’ve never done anything to deserve being struck down.’

  ‘Lorne, you’re going to get better!’ Rosa said urgently, holding one of Lorne’s frail hands. ‘That’s why you’re in here – Ma never went anywhere, never had much treatment, but you’re going to be all right, I’m sure of it!’

  Lorne gave a tired smile. ‘You know what the best thing here is for me? It’s you and Daniel coming to see me. I know it isn’t easy, you’ve to take two buses, but it makes all the difference, I can tell you.’

  ‘We’ll always come to see you, Lorne, and I’ve a piece of good news to tell you as well. Da’s coming down next week. I got his letter today!’

  ‘Da’s coming all the way from home to see me?’ Lorne’s eyes were wide. ‘And on his own? No Mrs MacRitchie?’

  ‘No Mrs MacRitchie.’

  ‘That’s grand, then. You know how Da sometimes got on our nerves, going on about what he could do? Well, now I just want to see him!’

  But Lorne was tiring, her colour had faded and as the bell went for visitors to leave the ward, it seemed clear she very much needed her rest. Leaning forward, Rosa whispered that Daniel would be coming with her the next day, but for now, she’d just say goodbye. She could not, of course, kiss Lorne’s cheek, but pressed her hand again.

  ‘Have a good rest, Lorne – we’ll see you tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow,’ Lorne murmured, not opening her eyes and, after a moment, Rosa moved quietly away.

  ‘Oh, Mrs MacNeil,’ the ward sister called to her as she reached the door. ‘May I ask – are you coming in tomorrow to see your sister?’

  ‘Yes, probably with my husband. Did you want to speak to us?’

  Rosa was looking anxious, but the sister only gave a brief smile and said that one of the doctors would like to have a quick word. Would Rosa let her, the sister, know when she arrived tomorrow?

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Rosa. ‘Of course.’

  And then, at last she was leaving the sanatorium and making for the bus stop which was conveniently outside the gates, her spirits lower than usual. Why did the doctor wish to speak to her and Daniel? Was it just routine? Or not? All the way home, Rosa kept thinking about what he might say, and when Daniel came home, immediately began to discuss what it might be. Which, as he said, was a waste of time.

  ‘We’ll just have to wait till tomorrow,’ he told Rosa. ‘Thank goodness it’s Saturday and I can be with you.’ He hesitated. ‘But how was Lorne, then? Any improvement?’

  ‘No, and I don’t think there will be.’ Rosa shook her head. ‘Not until they’ve given her treatment. Collapsing one of her lungs, or whatever it might be.’

  They were silent then, until Rosa began preparing their tea and Daniel, lighting a cigarette, took up the evening paper. Whether or not he read it, Rosa, preparing the fish they were to have, could not be sure.

  Fifty-One

  It appeared that the doctor who wished to speak to Lorne’s relatives was Dr MacKail – a tall, dark-haired young man Rosa had first met on Lorne’s admission, serious and caring in his manner and someone Lorne herself had not afterwards actually criticized. If they had to have a talk from a doctor, both Rosa and Daniel were relieved he should be the one, for from him they’d get something they could understand, which they could only hope wasn’t bad news. When he called them into a small private room off the ward, they each searched his face, hoping though failing to read what he might say, but in any case he didn’t keep them waiting.

  ‘Mr and Mrs MacNeil, it’s good to see you.’ He gave them a brief smile. ‘As you may know, we like to keep relatives up to date with the progress of patients, and I believe you are closest to Miss Malcolm?’

  ‘Yes, well, because our father’s in the Highlands,’ Rosa explained. ‘But I’ve just heard that he is coming to see my sister very soon.’

  ‘I didn’t know that but I look forward to meeting him.’ Dr MacKail hesitated for a few moments, rolling a pencil in his fingers. ‘I must tell you both, though – and eventually your father – that Miss Malcolm’s case is presenting some problems.’

  ‘Problems?’ Daniel repeated curtly. ‘What sort of problems?’

  ‘Well, the fact is, she has come to us a little late. Her illness is so far advanced, there is no question now of an operation. It is no one’s fault. Possibly because she didn’t develop a serious cough as is usual, she didn’t think to go to her doctor earlier—’

  ‘She never wanted to go!’ Rosa cried. ‘So I’m to blame. I knew she should go, she was so thin. But I gave in, I should have made her, been more firm—’

  ‘No, no,’ the doctor said quickly. ‘No one is to blame. You mustn’t feel guilty, Mrs MacNeil – you did everything you could, I’m sure of that. The question now is how much can we do for your sister?’

  ‘How much?’ asked Daniel. ‘What do you mean, how much? Even if Lorne can’t have an operation, there are things you can do, aren’t there? Medicine, pills …’

  ‘Of course, I can assure you we’ll do all we can for Miss Malcolm,’ Dr MacKail said gravely. ‘My seeing you today was to make that clear. But you must … prepare yourselves … that it may not be enough.’

  After these words a silence fell, when the eyes of Rosa and Daniel met once then moved away. It was only when the doctor rose to his feet that they too struggled up from their chairs and stared about the room as though they were waking from a troubled dream. For a long moment, he waited, giving them time to be ready to hear him continue.

  ‘You know now what I wanted to tell you,’ he said quietly, ‘though I don’t wish to alarm you. We must see how your sister progresses, and it may be that she will do better than we hope, but it’s best in the circumstances that you are, as I say, prepared … for what may happen.’

  ‘The worst?’ asked Daniel, his voice very low.

  ‘That she … may not win her fight.’

  Another silence fell in the little room while Rosa and Daniel gazed at the doctor, who eventually asked if they would like to stay where they were before visiting their sister. But Rosa shook her head.

  ‘It’s very kind of you, Doctor, but I’d like to see my sister now. Thank you for telling us … what we had to know.’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Daniel muttered, turning to the door. ‘We appreciate …’ His voice trailed off and he too shook his head, as though he could find no further words, opened the door and dazedly passed through.

  ‘He’s … very upset,’ Rosa told Dr MacKail. ‘He’s known Lorne a long time.’

  ‘And you’ve been very brave, Mrs MacNeil. But before you visit your sister, would you like to take a little time to think over what I’ve said? Maybe go to the canteen? Have some tea?’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ Rosa answered. ‘Lorne will be waiting for me, wondering what has been said—’

  ‘You won’t …? No, I needn’t ask that.’

  ‘I won’t tell her anything.’ Rosa put out her hand and, as the doctor shook it, she murmured her thanks again.

  ‘Any time you need to speak to someone, don’t hesitate,’ he told her, opening the door for her. ‘Remember, we’re here to help relatives as well as patients.’

  ‘I’ll remember, and thank you.’

  Out in the ward, she looked for Daniel but could see no sign of him and, taking a deep breath, she progressed towards Lorne’s bed, the magazine and the fruit she’d brought now at the ready, a smile brightening her face.

  ‘Lorne, how are you? I think you’re looking a little better today.’

  Fifty-Two

  George the Fifth, the king who had come to the throne in 1910, was eventually crowned on a June day in 1911 to great rejoicing throughout his kingdom. Except for us, thought Rosa, for it was on the king’s special day that Lorne had finally slipped away. There had been no fuss, no relatives at the bedsid
e, for she had died in the small hours, very peacefully, without pain, and by the time Rosa and Daniel had arrived, looked like the young girl she had once been, which seemed to them to make it all the harder to say goodbye.

  Somehow, they made the arrangements, or at least Rosa did, for Daniel didn’t seem to want to be a part of any of it, leaving the sanatorium very soon afterwards ‘to walk somewhere’, he told Rosa, and was not seen again until the evening.

  ‘You might have helped me,’ she felt driven to say to him when he finally returned home. ‘You know there are formalities that have to be done, and we’ve got the special arrangements to make for … my poor Lorne.’ The tears came afresh as she said her sister’s name, but she kept talking as best she could. ‘I mean, for what Da and me want, taking her home.’

  ‘Taking her home,’ Daniel said softly. ‘Yes, it’s a good that she’ll be going back to Carron. I’m glad we discussed that when your da was here. I know it’s expensive, what we’re doing, but it’s what she wanted, isn’t it? She’d never have wanted to be’ – his voice trembled – ‘buried here.’

  How terrible it is that he can’t admit how he really feels, Rosa thought, the pain of her own grief being made worse by her recognizing his, as well as knowing how he was trying to conceal his love for her sister. He’d never admitted it, never would. All there could be was secrecy, which he seemed to think would be best for Rosa and perhaps was. But it didn’t stop her pain.

  Some days later, it was all arranged. Using every penny of his savings, Daniel had paid for the last trip home for poor Lorne, her coffin being transported by the same train on which her sister and brother-in-law would travel to Carron themselves. Very soon afterwards, the local funeral Greg had organized would take place and Lorne would be laid to rest next her mother in the little Carron churchyard. All that remained then would be for Rosa and Daniel and everyone to take up their ordinary lives again, though how that was going to happen, Rosa still couldn’t imagine. Ordinary, normal lives didn’t seem possible for her or Daniel at that time. Would things ever be ordinary and normal for them again?

  On the long journey home, very conscious of her sister being carried somewhere else on the train, Rosa’s thoughts went again and again to Lorne herself. Her sister, her little sister, had gone, and whatever she had done had been put aside, for she would do no more; her short life was over.

  There was no doubt that Lorne had been no saint, had never wanted to be, and that what her father had once said of her, that she only thought of herself, was certainly true. Yet she had been Rosa’s sister – her only one – and already Rosa was missing her. Missing those shared memories, those good times they’d had, gossiping, laughing …

  Was she seeing Lorne through rose-tinted glasses? Probably, for think how badly she had behaved towards Daniel! How she had coolly cast him aside for someone she thought better, leaving him with a broken heart. Rosa had never thought she could forgive her sister for what she’d done then, but somehow – when she’d turned up again from America – she’d seemed different. As though she had learned her lesson, had suffered and had come through, and was not quite the Lorne she’d been before.

  Clearly, Daniel had forgiven her, and Rosa knew she had too. Would give – oh, what would she give – to see Lorne’s green eyes lighting up her face again? To see her dressmaking, cutting out material, smiling with a mouthful of pins? To go with her to their mother’s grave, to lay spring flowers or to exchange smiles with Rosa when Da went on about all that he could do.

  ‘Oh, Lorne,’ Rosa murmured, leaning her head back in the railway carriage, fighting back her tears, for there were strangers around.

  ‘Like a cup of tea?’ asked Daniel. ‘We could go along to the refreshment car?’

  His face was as stricken as ever, but his simple request warmed Rosa’s heart, and when she rose and went with him in search of the refreshment car she felt, for the first time since Lorne’s death, just a little better.

  Fifty-Three

  The day before the funeral, Rosa was standing alone, in her black dress and coat, looking out over the Moray Firth, as she so often used to do before she left the Highlands. Gazing out over the vast expanse of water, she felt again something of the calmness the view had brought to her in the old days, when she had had no need to think of Lorne and knew things could never be the same as that again. Would never be the same, even though the views were unchanged, for now the remembrance of her sister brought bittersweet emotions to the one who was left, and for a while the waters before her blurred as though with rain, when no rain was falling.

  She turned aside and walked a little way, wishing Daniel would have wanted to be with her, but he had gone to see his mother and she hadn’t really wanted anyone else at her side. Not even Da, who was looking so forlorn, and certainly not Mrs MacRitchie – Joan, as she kept reminding Rosa to call her. Anyway, she was far too busy, making refreshments for folk to have after the ceremony, for which Rosa was truly grateful, and felt a little guilty for not helping. Perhaps she should go back now? Show willing? She turned back to go to Joan’s cottage when a man came hurrying towards her, his smile uncertain but his looks known to her. This was, of all people, Rory Thain, who should be in America. What was he doing back at Carron, this tall, handsome son of Bluff House, so clearly wanting to speak to her?

  And why should she speak to him after the way he had treated Lorne?

  ‘It’s Rosa, isn’t it?’ he asked, taking off his hat. ‘Mrs MacNeil, I know, but Lorne talked of you so much, you are Rosa to me. May I speak to you for a moment?’

  Her dark eyes met his grey gaze without flinching as she said clearly, ‘I see no reason why you should want to speak to me, Mr Thain. My family has nothing to say to you.’

  ‘Please, don’t say that, Rosa. Let me explain – this trip from the States was made to see my family, I’ll admit, but when I heard what had happened to Lorne, I couldn’t believe it. It hit me like a blow, yet I thanked God I was here so that I could pay my last respects. That’s what I wanted to speak to you about – to ask if you’d have any objection to my attending the funeral.’ He hesitated, swallowing hard. ‘I loved her so much,’ he said in a low voice. ‘I don’t know how she put it to you, but she was the love of my life, she really was, it was just that—’

  ‘Just that she wasn’t suitable to marry?’ Rosa asked coldly. ‘Now that you are engaged to someone else, are you really thinking we’d want to see you at my sister’s funeral? Please don’t come, Mr Thain – you won’t be welcome. And I’m sure your family will be relieved. If you’ll excuse me, please?’

  Moving quickly past him, Rosa took pleasure in not looking at him again and, as he made no move to stop her, kept walking at speed until she was at her father’s cottage. As for Rory Thain, she had no idea what he did. All she knew was that she hoped she would never again see the man who had made her sister so unhappy. True, it might be said that Lorne was only discovering how others felt when discarded, but it had been a hard lesson and, now that she was gone, Rosa wished she had never had to learn it.

  Thank heavens, anyway, that Rory Thain had asked if he might come to the funeral, not just turned up for it. At least they had been spared the sight of him arriving for it out of the blue …

  ‘Rosa, there you are!’ her father cried as she let herself into the cottage and took off her hat and jacket. ‘Joan wants us to go to her place for our tea. Now all we need is Daniel. Any idea when he’ll turn up?’

  ‘No idea at all, Da,’ Rosa told him, noticing again that her poor father was looking handsome still, yet years older than before he’d lost Lorne. He might have liked to criticize her, but she was his daughter and, like Rosa, beloved. Now he was loaded down with grief again, for even when she had been in America, so far away, she was all right, she was alive – one day he could see her again. That was the thing about death: there was never any seeing again, whatever the spiritualists said.

  ‘Come on, Da, let’s go next door. Joan will be waiting
for us,’ Rosa said, trying to sound brisk. ‘We needn’t wait for Daniel. His mother will be keeping him.’

  As Rosa scribbled a note for Daniel to tell him they would be next door, Greg said thoughtfully, ‘Taken it badly, hasn’t he? I mean, Lorne’s death. She was always special to him, our Lorne, in spite of what she did.’

  ‘Always,’ Rosa answered, putting her note with the clock. ‘But we don’t talk about what she did, Da. There’s no point. It’s all over now.’

  ‘For her; maybe not for Daniel.’ Greg’s look on Rosa was sombre. ‘You told me once things were fine between you.’

  ‘They were – they are.’

  ‘And Lorne’s coming back, that was all right with you?’

  ‘Da, don’t be worrying.’ Rosa firmly took his arm. ‘Let’s go to Joan’s, eh? And just remember, everything’s fine between me and Daniel.’

  ‘If you say so,’ said Greg.

  Fifty-Four

  ‘Grand refreshments,’ folk were commenting after Lorne’s funeral. ‘Thanks to Joan MacRitchie – still hoping to get wed to Greg one o’ these days, eh?’

  But a good crowd anyway to see Lorne off. For Greg’s sake – or maybe Martha’s, Lorne being Martha’s daughter, though there weren’t a lot who liked her. So pleased with herself, she always seemed, just because the men were always round her like flies, but look what she did to Daniel MacNeil! Chucked him over for Mr Rory, the silly lassie! Now wouldn’t she have been better off with Daniel? But he had had the sense to marry Rosa, such a lovely girl. Pity there were no children, eh?

  So the talk went on, while Rosa and Daniel helped Joan to pass around the sandwiches and sausage rolls, the sponge cakes and shortbread, while Greg moved through the mourners talking of everything but the deceased now laid to rest, as was the way at funerals.