Sunshine Through the Rain

by Gilly Stewart

  These are my children, she wanted to say, my children. Don’t you dare to interfere!

  And then she caught herself, because it was the first time she had thought of them as her children. They were hers and she loved them, even Angus in all his thorny inapproachability. Lucy was easy to love, always had been, and was generous with her affection. Callum was less open, but had been willing to give his aunt a chance, willing to accept what she was doing for him, and as he turned more and more to her, in his easy-going way, she had found herself turning to him. Angus still didn’t trust her, possibly didn’t even like her, she knew that. But he was hers.

  She had never had anything worth defending before, except her small place of silence, and no one had seriously threatened that. This fierce possessive anger she felt stunned her.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Kit was pondering his next steps, with Ellen and with the house, as he prowled his plot of land.

  It was easier by far to plan for the house, so he concentrated on that. He enjoyed having the place to himself, which was now only possible at this time of evening. Progress was welcome, of course, but three or four workmen on site, with the blare of their radios and sound of their tools, changed the feel of the place. He moved slowly between the timber-frame walls. It was good to see what had been achieved today. He was just thinking that perhaps it wasn’t so surprising how quickly the money was going out if so much was being accomplished, when he heard the phone ringing in the caravan.

  ‘Oh, Kit, I’m that glad I’ve reached you. It’s your mother, she’s been taken bad.’ It was Mrs McIver, sounding desperate. ‘I had to call the ambulance and they’ve rushed her off to hospital. I didn’t know what to do. You weren’t answering your phone. I hope I did right.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ said Kit, feeling suddenly sick with fear. His mother had been so much brighter the last few weeks. With additional carers going in, he had been lulled into a false sense of security. He had taken her to visit her friend Nora a couple of times, but she hadn’t mentioned the possibility of moving to Westerwood House herself, and nor had he. ‘Did she fall? Is she OK?’

  ‘I don’t rightly know. I came to look in on her, as I do, like, in the evening. And there was no sound, and when I found her she was on the floor in the kitchen. It’s a gey hard tiled floor, that one. There was blood coming from her head …’

  ‘Was she conscious?’ Kit swallowed. He pictured his lovely, heavy mother sprawled out, no one to help her.

  ‘Not conscious, no, but she was breathing, like.’

  Kit thanked her for her trouble, ascertained that the ambulance was heading for Dumfries Infirmary, and said he would go directly there himself.

  Over the next few hours, time crawled by. He waited in Casualty for news, waited to be allowed to see his poor, unconscious mother, waited for the results of scans and tests, waited, waited.

  He let his gaze dwell on his mother’s broad face, now slack and silent. His mother had always been such a solid background to his life. She had always been there, a plump and cheery presence through his harum-scarum childhood, sticking plasters over cuts, providing food for picnics, giving all-engulfing hugs, a counter-point to his more austere father. She had been so proud of him when he graduated. To have a vet for a son had meant something to her, given her something to boast about. He smiled and squeezed her limp hand as he remembered his embarrassment at her public delight.

  He sat at his mother’s side and the hours passed. It was like being in a twilight world, nothing to do but wait and think.

  Ellen was disappointed that Kit didn’t come down to Craigallan to help load the cattle on to the lorry taking them to market. He was under no obligation, of course, but somehow she had expected he would. Angus seemed to have expected it too, because when she mentioned Kit to him he said, ‘He’s probably got better things to do,’ in a hurt tone.

  At his own insistence, Angus was to travel to the auction in the cab of the lorry. The driver had been a friend of his father and seemed to take the arrangement for granted. Ellen was to meet them at the mart, once she had dropped the younger two off at school.

  ‘It’s not fair, why can’t we go?’ moaned Callum most of the way through breakfast. ‘They’re our animals too and …’

  Eventually Ellen lost her patience. ‘You weren’t so interested in them being your animals when there was work to do! So you can keep quiet and finish your cereal. You’re going to be late.’

  As always when she raised her voice to the children, she was met with shocked stares. Their mother would never have shouted.

  She sighed. It was getting easier to think of Jess these days, but she still preferred not to do so. Little things could so easily throw her all over again. Finding a Tupperware container of bolognese sauce at the bottom of the freezer, marked in Jess’s distinctive writing; receiving mail addressed to Sam; seeing the raspberry bushes they had so proudly planted bearing their first fruit …

  And now she was allowing – causing? – the dispersal of Sam’s precious herd. It was no wonder she was tense. She couldn’t help but feel she was letting her sister down.

  The auction mart was a large, echoey place, filled with the sounds and smells of animals. Ellen stood beside Angus as the bidding got under way. She was completely out of her depth, glad to have at least one person she knew. Maybe he felt the same. At least he didn’t edge away.

  They watched as the various single animals and groups went under the hammer. It happened a lot faster than Ellen had expected, the animals moved in and out of the mart ring with surprising efficiency.

  ‘It’s us next,’ said Angus, almost under his breath.

  Ellen wished she could hold his hand, or pat his shoulder. Do something to make things better. Instead she clasped the cool metal barrier and told herself this would be over soon.

  And then things, amazingly, took a turn for the better. There was something about one farmer, one bid, some more discussion, and then the hammer fell.

  ‘What happened?’ she hissed, confused.

  Angus was almost smiling. ‘They’ve all gone to one farmer. The whole herd. Someone who had heard of Dad – Dad’s reputation. I think. He must want to keep them together, breed from them.’

  ‘That’s brilliant,’ said Ellen. ‘I’m so pleased.’ And they’d gone for a good price, too, but the main thing was the compliment to her late brother-in-law, and how pleased Angus seemed to be.

  She thought he might actually have been humming under his breath on the way home. And he answered all her questions, and didn’t grunt or sigh once.

  The following day was the first of the summer holidays. Angus was up and out early as usual. The younger two chose the more understandable option of watching television in their pyjamas. Ellen allowed herself a second mug of tea with her breakfast and was just wondering whether she could contemplate the luxury of reading her book when there was a knock on the door.

  ‘Hi there, how’s things?’ It was Kit.

  Ellen gave a silent sigh of relief. She couldn’t help wondering what had happened to him. He hadn’t been around at all the previous day.

  She was about to give a light-hearted response, to show that she hadn’t missed him at all, when she realised something was amiss. He looked pale and tired, the normally broad, smiling face tense. ‘How are things with you?’ she asked, concerned.

  ‘Not so good.’ He slumped down in a chair and in short factual sentences told her about his mother’s collapse and admission to hospital. ‘They say it’s a stroke. A full-blown one, not like the possible TIAs she’s been having. I was there with her all day yesterday. I’m sorry I couldn’t help with the cattle.’

  ‘You don’t need to apologise.’ Ellen was glad there had been a reason for his absence. If only it hadn’t been such a horrible reason. ‘And, anyway, Angus managed fine.’

  ‘I’m glad. How did the sale go?’

  Ellen told him. ‘Isn’t it great? Someone from over by New Galloway, apparently. So no
dealer, no abattoir, no splitting them all up. Angus was happier than I’ve seen him in a long while.’

  Kit smiled too, his white face briefly taking on a more normal expression. Then he pushed himself to his feet. ‘That’s good. Look, I must dash. I’m working at the vet practice until lunchtime, then going back to the hospital. I’ll probably stay there until the end of evening visiting. I just wanted to pop in and ask about the cows, and …’ His words trailed off. He looked exhausted, which he probably was.

  ‘Of course, I won’t keep you. Give your mother my regards, if she’s up to receiving them.’ It occurred to Ellen that, for once, Kit was the one who needed some help. ‘And why don’t you come and eat here when you do get back? That’ll save you having to worry about food, at least.’

  ‘That’s very kind, but it’ll be late, after eight. I’ll try and look in on the animals, of course …’

  ‘No, forget the animals. It’s mostly sheep now, Angus can manage them fine. But if you want to eat, eat here. I don’t get round to cooking until late on weekends and as it’s the holidays it’ll no doubt be even later. Eight thirty or after would be fine.’ And then she wondered if she was being too pushy. ‘Or will you be wanting to stay with your mother?’

  ‘Probably not. I’ll stay for visiting but they don’t really make you welcome after that, once the crisis is over.’

  ‘We’ll see you here then.’ Ellen felt a glow of satisfaction that remained with her throughout the day. It must be that she so rarely did anything for others, voluntarily.

  It was almost nine by the time Kit reappeared. Ellen was glad she had given in to the children and let them have fish fingers and chips while watching the DVD they had got from the library to celebrate the start of the holidays. It meant they were happy (even Angus) and not starting to whinge from hunger. The chicken casserole she had made for Kit and herself was in the warming drawer, ready to be heated when required.

  She got him a beer.

  ‘Tell me how things are going. You look pretty knackered.’

  ‘I am.’ Kit wiped a hand over his face that was still as pale as it had been in the morning, but now more tired than ever.

  ‘Not good news?’

  ‘No change really. It’s hard to know how much she understands, but she’s not able or not willing to speak. She is conscious some of the time. She opens her eyes, and she’ll squeeze your hand, but … Oh, who knows?’

  ‘It’s hard for you.’ She tried to remember how she had felt when her father had been diagnosed with Parkinson’s. One thing was sure, she and Jess had been there to support each other. Ellen had taken that all for granted then, Jess rushing up to Stirling, being her normal caring self, and Ellen happy to talk things through but relieved she didn’t have to take the strain. Ha! How things change.

  ‘Here, have some crisps. Maybe what you need is sustenance.’ Ellen tossed a couple of packets on the table and went to move the casserole to the main oven.

  The happiness that had been with her all day was still there. Kit might be tired and worried, but he was still the person she felt most at ease with. She paused behind his chair, tempted to hug him, to cheer him up as he so often did her, and then wondered what on earth she was thinking of. She went quickly back to her own seat on the far side of the table.

  They chatted some more about Kit’s mother, and Ellen’s father, laughing sadly at how they found themselves in the same boat now. ‘Except you don’t have the kids,’ Ellen pointed out. She suppressed a sudden shiver as she remembered about the social worker. ‘Poor you, only got one generation to worry about.’

  ‘I don’t know. What about worrying about myself? I’m sure I’m quite as much trouble as three well-behaved children.’

  ‘Well-behaved? Pouf. And speak of the devil …’ Lucy drifted in looking for food, or possibly attention. Of the three, she was the one most likely to seek Ellen out and it wasn’t always clear why.

  When she saw Kit, she gave a little skip and said, ‘Kit! Did Auntie Ellen tell you about the cows? Angus did so well. We’re going to go over to this man’s farm to see them. And Melanie’s not very lonely, she’s still got her calf, and …’

  Angus must have heard her because he came through to join them – of his own volition! He, too, wanted to talk about the auction, and basked in Kit’s approval in a way he never did with Ellen. He talked happily of breeding lines and the best bull to put Melanie to in the autumn. Even when they discussed a date for taking the sheep to market, he didn’t seem too downhearted.

  Eventually the children went back to the sitting room, where Callum was summoning them to watch deleted scenes on the DVD, and Ellen brought the casserole to the table. It was strange how at home she felt in this kitchen now, how used she had become to its space and far from convenient arrangement. She scooped knives and forks from the drawer, plates from the dresser, with hardly a second thought. It was a pleasant room. With a lick of paint – maybe a dusky peach to pick out the tiles on the floor – it would be more than acceptable.

  ‘You seem settled here,’ said Kit, as though thinking along the same lines.

  She smiled. ‘I think I am. Amazing, really. There’s still lots to do, of course, but I’m getting used to being here. In fact, it’s hard to remember anything else. Kids and animals somehow take over your life.’

  ‘You don’t miss your flat?’

  ‘No.’ Ellen considered as she spooned food on to both their plates. ‘No, it was convenient, but I realise I never loved it like Jess and Sam did this place, or you will with your house. I’m relieved it sold so quickly. My only worry is what I’m going to do with all my stuff when we get it down here. Now the kids are on holiday, we’re going to go up and do some packing. I need to have it cleared by the middle of next month.’

  ‘I could help,’ said Kit immediately.

  ‘No, we’ll be fine, thanks. You’ve got more than enough on your hands. I’m going to hire one of those big transit vans for a couple of days and see what we can fit in. I want to make a kind of expedition of it, make it fun for the kids.’

  Kit grinned. ‘Have you ever driven one of those vans?’

  ‘No, but I’m sure I’m capable.’ Ellen felt a flutter of irritation. She still didn’t like people laughing at her, thinking her useless. It was all the more galling as she had given Kit plenty of reasons to think that over the last few months.

  ‘I’m sure you are. I’m just saying, if you need a hand, give me a shout. Even if it’s only to help you take stuff out at this end.’

  ‘Thanks,’ she said, determined not to take up the offer.

  ‘How’s the decorating here coming on?’

  Ellen was glad of the change of subject. ‘We’ve made one big step forward. Did I tell you, we’ve sorted out who’ll have which room? Angus gets his parents’ old room. Not surprising, really. He’s the oldest, and although Lucy suggested I have it, I knew the boys wouldn’t be happy. So I’m going into Angus’s room, which is half as big again as the cubby where I am now, and Lucy and Cal stay where they are. And we’re painting all the rooms.’

  Kit nodded approval. He lounged back in his seat, shaggy hair falling over his brow, eyes lazily interested. ‘You know, you could do some interesting things rearranging the rooms downstairs. You could knock the spare room and that never-used dining room into one, it would make a great space. But you probably don’t want to get into that just now?’

  ‘I thought of it,’ admitted Ellen. ‘I could have had that, with the downstairs toilet and shower as an en suite. It was a nice idea, but I couldn’t face it just now. Plus I didn’t want to upset the kids.’

  ‘Upset Angus, you mean.’

  ‘Yes, upset Angus.’ Ellen couldn’t help glancing towards the doorway, but the children seemed still to be ensconced in the sitting room. ‘He seems a bit … happier at the moment. I hope it lasts.’

  ‘The holidays’ll help. No more problems with those bastards at school?’

  ‘Not that I know of. And now we don
’t need to have anything more to do with them for seven whole weeks.’ Ellen beamed at the thought of it: no more chaotic early mornings, no more pressure of leaving one thing unfinished because you had to move on to the next. Yes, they were all looking forward to the holidays.

  Kit insisted on doing his share of the evening chores. Unsurprisingly, Lucy, when given the choice, opted for the treat of a visitor reading to her. Ellen wondered if she should be jealous, but decided it wasn’t worth worrying about. One less job. And surely soon the child would do as Angus and Cal did, and read for herself?

  She put the kettle on for coffee and took the tray through to the sitting room. It was used more by the children than her. But today she had given the room a spring (or summer?) clean, and was determined to get some benefit of it before it deteriorated into a crumb and DVD-strewn pit.

  ‘Milk and sugar?’ she asked Kit when he eventually joined her, having been coerced by Lucy into a mammoth story-reading session.

  ‘Yes, both. Tonight, I think I need them.’

  He came and sat beside her on the settee and Ellen wondered if it was for this she had moved through here. Now there was no longer a table between them, what might happen? How lucky it was that Angus was in the habit of going to bed early, so that he could rise at some ungodly hour as befitted a farmer.

  They sat in companionable silence.

  When Kit had finished his coffee, he put his arm around her, as though it was the most natural thing to do. She let herself lean very slightly in to him, and he turned and touched her lips with his own, hardly a kiss at all, just a question. She felt that strange tautness in her stomach that she hadn’t felt for years, the thrill along her skin where they touched. ‘Mmm?’ he said, but she didn’t want to talk. She pulled his head down towards her and kissed him properly.

  Kit was warm and solid, an untidy, gentle bear of a man, but as the kiss deepened she became aware of a new side to him. Passion, fiery and hot, as he pulled her closer, losing himself in the moment.

  Ellen felt stunned, desperate for more, burying her fingers in the thick hair, pulling him closer and closer. And at the same time part of her was listening for sounds from overhead, steps on the stairs.