Sunshine Through the Rain

by Gilly Stewart

  ‘Reeds,’ said Kit. ‘Best we can do just now. See if you can gather some up and we’ll put them around her, might give her a grip.’

  Ellen hurried to follow his suggestion, thankful he was there. She ripped up the slippery green-brown vegetation so frantically that she tore her skin. Between them they made a carpet around the mare’s front legs, then Kit dug out some of the mud at the back and forced vegetation down in its place. He was now nearly as muddy as her, and had to jump back twice when Bridget went through her flailing and whinnying performance.

  ‘It’s awful,’ said Ellen, nearly in tears now. ‘What if …?’ And then the mare gave an extra lurch, got a reasonable grip with one leg, hovered for a moment so that they thought she would fall back again, and then rose, muddy and shuddering, onto all four feet. She gave a series of great snorts and shook herself violently.

  ‘Bridget! You did it.’ Ellen flung her arms around the horse, smelling the sweat and mud and feeling the violent beat of her heart. ‘You’re a star.’

  Kit grinned. ‘She’ll be fine now. Stand back, I think she’s off.’

  At that moment Bridget gave a huge shrug, sending Ellen staggering, and limped off towards Tony. They sniffed and rubbed noses, then Tony set of on a mad, celebratory gallop.

  ‘Not very appreciative, animals, are they?’ said Kit. He had put an arm about her shoulders, grinning down at her. ‘You were really worried about her, weren’t you?’

  ‘Of course I was. I thought she was dying.’

  ‘Take more than an hour or two on her side to put an end to old Bridget. She’s tough. Look, she’s having a drink now.’ Sure enough, the muddy brown mare was drinking from one of the bigger marsh pools. ‘I’ll give her a few minutes to settle down and then check her over, just to be sure. She might have twisted a leg, but I don’t think so from the way she’s moving.’

  ‘Thank goodness for that.’ Ellen moved away and wiped her hands down her filthy jeans. After watching the way Kit had managed the situation, so competent and knowledgeable, she was feeling rather silly. Why had she panicked? He must think she was a fool.

  As he didn’t need her help now, she decided to leave him to it. ‘I’m going back down,’ she said. ‘I’ll put the kettle on.’

  ‘Good idea. Get yourself out of those wet clothes.’

  She walked heavily down the hill. Part of her was elated that Bridget had been successfully rescued, but another part was now feeling absurd for over-reacting. And not being able to cope on her own. She didn’t want Kit putting his arm around her and patting her like some amusing younger sister.

  As she reached the farmyard she heard the cows lowing and remembered she still hadn’t given the calf her milk. She collected the bottle and took it into the kitchen with her. She could heat it up in the microwave while she made some coffee. Suddenly, after all the excitement, she felt cold. She huddled against the Rayburn as she waited for the kettle to boil. What she really needed was a shower, but coffee came first.

  She had just put Kit’s mug on the side of the stove to keep warm when he arrived, knocking briefly on the back door before letting himself in. ‘Bridget’s fine. She gave herself a wee bit of a fright, but there’s no damage done.’ He went to wash his hands, completely at home.

  ‘Thanks goodness for that. Is there anything I should do for her?’

  ‘Keep an eye on her. When the kids come home you could get them to bring her in and groom her. Hose her down first. Do you think you’ll be able to get them to do that?’

  Ellen frowned, suspecting criticism. ‘I think we can just about manage it between us.’

  ‘Lucy’s fond of the horses, she’ll like doing it, but she’ll need help from one of the boys. And then maybe she could have a ride on the pony, he’s putting on a bit of weight, could do with the exercise.’

  ‘I know that.’ Ellen was definitely feeling more annoyed than grateful now. Of course she knew Tony Pony was overweight. ‘You might not have noticed, but there’s rather a lot to do around here, and horses aren’t my forte.’

  ‘Get Callum to do them. He and Angus are perfectly capable, but Angus is busy enough with the farm animals.’

  ‘I’ll think about it.’ Ellen resented his advice. If he knew so much why didn’t he just take over the horses himself? Except that was just what she couldn’t ask him to do. He was doing far too much already. She sighed. ‘Here’s your coffee.’

  ‘Thanks. I could do with that. It was going to be my first priority when I got back to the caravan.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ Now she felt guilty as well as annoyed. ‘I was in such a rush I never even asked if you had the time to spare. And I should pay you for your help. I can’t keep taking advantage …’

  ‘Rubbish. What are neighbours for?’ He seemed relaxed, but his tone was firm.

  ‘That was all very well at the beginning. But we can’t go on and on accepting favours from everyone.’

  ‘Why not? Accept them as long as they’re offered. I would.’

  Ellen shrugged. She leant back against the Rayburn, seeking comfort from its warmth. Automatically she checked the heat gauge and then tossed on a couple more logs.

  ‘Getting to grips with that wood burning monster, are you?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘It’s not the most efficient thing in the world. I told Sam they’d be better off with something more modern.’

  ‘You mean like gas central heating? It’d certainly be my preference.’

  ‘Well, actually, I meant one of these new German stoves that burn sawmill off-cuts and keep going by themselves for days on end. I’m looking in to getting one of those myself. They heat the water, too.’

  Ellen could see the attraction of something that didn’t need feeding every few hours, but she felt too protective of Jess and Sam to agree with him. And something else had just occurred to her. ‘What on earth do you do for a bath or shower at the moment? Is there one in the caravan?’

  ‘Well, they say there’s a shower, but between you and me it’s more like a leak in the roof. If you’re lucky you catch the occasional drip. But don’t worry about me, it gives me a good reason for popping in to see my mother.’

  ‘How is she?’

  He pulled a face. ‘Much the same.’

  ‘I’m sorry. Look, if I can’t pay you for all your help, how about you feel free to use the facilities here, if you need?’ Why on earth hadn’t she thought of that before? ‘There’s usually hot water and the shower’s pretty good. The bath’s a bit odd-looking, but it’s massive and great for having a soak.’

  He looked surprised and she felt embarrassed, wondering if she was speaking out of turn. She wasn’t used to this neighbourly thing.

  ‘That’s very kind of you. I’ll bear it in mind.’

  His cool tone made Ellen all the more determined to do him a favour. Why should he always be in the superior position of giving? ‘Why don’t you have a bath right now? After all, it’s my fault you’re covered in mud. Don’t worry about me, I need to try and get this milk down the calf before I start to think about getting into clean clothes.’ She took the bottle of milk from the microwave.

  ‘Do you always warm the milk for the little dears?’ He was laughing at her again.

  ‘Of course. And I tuck them up in their hay at night. Actually, Angus-Sam usually does it and I couldn’t get the stupid thing to take it cold.’

  ‘You were probably too gentle. You go and have a bath and I’ll do it.’

  ‘No.’ She glared. ‘You go and have the bath and I’ll do it.’ And before he could disagree, she headed out of the door. ‘Towels in the airing cupboard. Help yourself.’

  Chapter Eight

  During the Easter holidays Ellen insisted on the children going with her to Edinburgh. She was never going to get them to consider moving to the city unless they spent some time there, saw it for themselves. So she encroached on Kit Ballantyne’s good nature once again and asked him to look after the animals for a couple of day
s. He agreed easily, but she didn’t feel she could impose on him for too long, which made the trip a bit of a rush. A day and a night in Edinburgh, then on to Stirling for a quick visit to their grandparents, and back home.

  It was a squash with the four of them in her one-bedroomed flat, but she was determined to make an adventure of it. ‘Right, who gets the sleeping bags and bed-settee and who gets the bedroom?’ she demanded as they dragged their luggage up the two flights of stairs.

  ‘Can I sleep in the double bed?’ asked Lucy, bouncing on it excitedly. ‘You can share with me if you want.’

  ‘Well.’ Ellen pushed open the window. The place smelt as though it had been empty for too long – which it had. ‘I have to say I’d rather sleep on my own.’

  ‘But it’s a really big bed an’ I would stay on one side. I wouldn’t be any bother.’

  ‘Don’t believe her,’ said Callum. ‘She used to get in bed with Mum and Dad and she drove them mad.’

  ‘Did not.’

  ‘That’s what they said. You kicked all the time.’

  Lucy’s lip began to tremble as she remembered. Ellen said quickly, ‘Well, you probably wouldn’t like sleeping with me at all. I kick, and even worse, I snore. But if you want to give it a try for one night, I don’t see why not. And that leaves the boys to share the bed-settee in the sitting room. That OK?’

  Angus shrugged. Callum dashed through to set up the bed there and then. It didn’t seem a good idea to Ellen, given the size of the flat, but she didn’t stop him. She was pleased to see him excited, and hoped that he might spread a little of his enthusiasm to his brother.

  She squeezed past them into the tiny kitchen, dumping carrier bags of food onto the work surface. It took only a few minutes to put away the provisions, switch the fridge back on, wipe the dust of weeks off the counter. But the place felt all wrong after the space of Craigallan. What had once been her cool, quiet retreat now seemed small and colourless. Far too small.

  She stood in the doorway and watched Lucy and Callum rolling around like puppies on the bed-settee, cushions and pillows everywhere. It hadn’t taken them long to create havoc, and she might not even have minded if Angus had joined in. But he was standing near the window, looking silently at the buildings beyond. She clapped her hands and shouted above the racket, ‘Right, who’s for fish and chips and a walk up to the park? We’ll sort everything else out later.’

  What the children needed was other children. That became clear to her as she pushed Lucy on the swing in the park, watched Callum and Angus on the climbing wall. In Kinmuir they knew everyone, were immediately involved in the games and conversations. She had to find a way of making that happen here, of making them want to be here. But who did she know with children in Edinburgh? All her friends were friends precisely because they shared Ellen’s interests and lifestyle, which had to date been almost entirely childfree. Richard’s girls lived down south with their mother. He was away just now, which was probably a good thing.

  She thought of phoning a couple of colleagues from work, but found she couldn’t even remember which ones had girls and which boys, let alone the children’s ages. There wasn’t enough time on this visit, but it was something she really must organise for their next trip.

  In the afternoon she walked them past a couple of local schools, and then wished she hadn’t. The solid Victorian architecture might appeal to an adult, but the children’s attention was drawn to the high windows and lack of playing fields.

  ‘Why don’t they have windows you can look out of?’ Callum asked.

  Lucy looked intimidated, and took Ellen’s hand.

  Ellen bought them ice creams and they walked up towards the castle, watching the crowds of shoppers and tourists. It was overcast, and the grey sky only made the dark stone of the buildings the more overpowering. Ellen was glad when they entered the gardens below the castle and were among greenery. She pointed out some of the landmarks and explained how this had been the ‘Nor’ Loch’ before it had been drained to make way for the railway.

  ‘I would’ve left it as a loch,’ said Angus dourly. ‘That’s the natural thing to do. Can we go back to your flat now and phone Kit? I want to know if the next heifers have calved.’

  ‘When are we going to see Gran?’ asked Lucy. ‘Can we go today?’

  ‘No. Tonight we’re going to the cinema, remember. We’ll look it up on the internet when we get home and you can choose what you want to see. Tomorrow we go to Gran and Granddad’s.’ She turned to her younger nephew. ‘What do you think of Edinburgh, Cal?’

  ‘It’s OK. It’s very big.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose so. But you get used to it.’

  ‘I wish we’d brought Monty,’ said Lucy.

  ‘And your flat’s too small,’ said Angus.

  ‘Then it’s lucky we’re only staying the one night, isn’t it?’ snapped Ellen before she could stop herself.

  Lucy took her aunt’s hand once again as they began to walk back along the busy pavements. She wasn’t used to so much traffic. And Ellen found that she didn’t like it much, either, but she certainly wasn’t going to let Angus know that.

  The visit to Ellen’s parents was equally unsettling, although in a different way. They were delighted to see the children, and they began to relax in a way they hadn’t done in Edinburgh. This house was familiar to them from frequent visits, and even their grandfather’s frailty didn’t put a dampener on their high spirits. Their grandmother spoilt them and they went to bed that night so full of chocolate and cake Ellen thought they might be ill.

  It was when the children were safely out of the way that Ellen began to notice other things. Like how much her father’s health had deteriorated since she had last seen him, and the lines of worry on her mother’s face.

  ‘The children are enjoying being here,’ she said, settling on the settee with a mug of cocoa. ‘But I hope it’s not been too much trouble for you.’

  ‘Of course not,’ said her mother. ‘We’re delighted to see you all, aren’t we, Frank?’

  Her husband nodded, shakily, and pulled himself slowly to his feet. ‘Time I was in bed myself,’ he said, his voice soft and muffled by his illness. He said to his wife, ‘No, don’t come with me. I’ll manage this once. You and Ellen have a nice chat.’

  Mother and daughter watched in silence as his edged his way out of the room with the aid of a walking frame.

  ‘He has enjoyed having you all here, but he does find it tiring.’

  ‘I can see that.’ Ellen sighed. Suddenly it seemed that wherever she looked there were difficulties ahead.

  ‘Tell me how the children liked Edinburgh,’ said her mother. ‘Lucy certainly seems very taken with the new clothes you bought her.’

  ‘Yes.’ Ellen sighed again. ‘Lucy isn’t the one that is difficult to please.’ She wished she could take back the words as soon as she had said them. She wasn’t here to complain to her mother.

  ‘Angus might come round to the idea,’ said her mother, but doubtfully.

  ‘Yes, I’ve got plans to take them up to Edinburgh again soon,’ said Ellen with more enthusiasm than she felt. ‘I’ll organise it better, arrange for them to meet some of my friends’ children.’

  ‘That’s a good idea.’

  The silence lengthened. Ellen struggled for something to say, to keep her mother from asking questions, but she was suddenly too exhausted. She swallowed the last of her cocoa and put her mug aside. ‘I’m pretty tired myself, I think I’ll head on up …’

  ‘I’m worried about you, Ellen,’ said her mother.

  Ellen forced her face into a smile. ‘Look, I’m fine.’ She sounded like Angus. ‘Really.’

  ‘You’ve taken on a lot, with the children. Don’t think your father and I don’t realise that.’

  ‘We’re managing. It’ll take some time for us all to adjust, but we’ll get there.’

  ‘Can’t Richard do more?’ Ellen’s mother shook her head sorrowfully, clearly prepared for a long discussio
n of the woes of the situation.

  Ellen shrugged. ‘Richard’s busy.’

  ‘Friends help each other out when they have difficulties. You know your father and I aren’t sure he’s the right person for you …’

  ‘I’m fine,’ said Ellen again, her voice harder now. This really wasn’t the time to list Richard’s bad points.

  ‘I wish you had someone to help you, this is such a lot for you to take on, on your own. If only you were married, had someone to support you …’

  ‘But I’m not, and I don’t want to be, so what’s the point of thinking about it?’

  ‘Is that Miss Taylor? Miss Ellen Taylor?’

  At the words, the official tone of voice, Ellen felt a chill run right through her. ‘Yes? How can I help?’

  ‘A moment, please. I have Mr Fletcher on the line for you. The rector of Dunmuir Academy.’

  There was a click as the call was transferred.

  ‘Miss Taylor?’ A man’s voice spoke, pleasant and controlled. ‘I’m so glad we managed to get hold of you. I wonder if I could trouble you to come down to the school?’

  ‘Yes, yes, of course. But why? What’s happened?’

  ‘We’ve had a … little incident involving Angus. Nothing serious. He’s perfectly all right, if a little bruised in spirit. I think the best thing would be for you to come here and we can discuss things.’

  Ellen wanted to demand all the details right there and then, but the man’s calm, self-assured tone brooked no questions. She checked the clock. One thirty. Plenty of time to be back before Callum and Lucy came home from school.

  ‘I’ll come straight away. It won’t take me more than fifteen minutes.’

  Ellen had been to the school once before, to meet Angus’s guidance teacher in the wake of his parents’ death. She tried to remember where they had met or what they had said, but couldn’t. This time she took more notice. The building was of 1960s construction, brick, concrete and glass, mostly on three floors. It looked in need of some attention and when she made her way into the entrance hall she noted a bucket catching drips in one corner. It reminded her that she still hadn’t found anyone to fix the kitchen roof at Craigallan.