‘She’s on the Pill,’ he muttered. ‘She reckons it’s given women the same freedom as men.’
‘Aye and she might forget to take the Pill one of these days.’ If it suited her purpose, he thought. ‘All I’m saying is you should be careful unless you can trust her and you love her more than life itself.’
TWO
Lidia appeared to have forgiven Sam by the time he collected her on Saturday evening. She was looking even more glamorous and was in a flirtatious mood. He enjoyed seeing the envy of most of the men at the dance. It was around midnight when he drove her back to her flat. It hadn’t occurred to Lidia he would refuse to come in. She was convinced he would be unable to resist her when he saw her in her new negligee. She couldn’t believe it when Sam kissed her goodnight in the car and came round to open the door for her to get out.
‘But you must come in,’ she wheedled.
‘Not tonight. I’m milking at Martinwold in the morning,’ he reminded her. ‘I have to be up by quarter to five to bring the cows in. The milking has to be finished and the milk cooled in the bulk tank before the tanker arrives, otherwise the creamery will reject it. That would cost me my wages, and more. Come and help me if you’re so keen to be with me,’ he teased.
‘No bloody fear!’ Lidia snapped. Sam frowned. She knew he didn’t like women swearing but she was furious with him. She tossed her head. ‘It’s ridiculous you working as a labourer.’
‘Mr Turner pays me well. If I didn’t do relief milking I couldn’t afford the money to buy all the drinks you had tonight.’
‘Your father should pay you more then you wouldn’t need to work for somebody else.’
‘We only take money from our own business when we need it for food and clothes and essentials. We live comfortably enough but we don’t squander money. Anyway, working at Martinwold in the milking parlour is good experience.’
‘You think taking me out is squandering money?’
‘Don’t spoil a good evening by quarrelling, Lidia.’
‘I asked you a question.’
‘You have to understand farmers have most of their money tied up in cattle and machinery. We don’t have cash to spend on getting drunk. One day we hope to rent another farm so that Alex and I will have a place each. We need to be thrifty now so that we shall have enough capital.’
‘You should be taking over Bengairney now you’ve finished college. You’re the eldest son. It’s time you stuck up for your rights then you wouldn’t have to scrimp when you take me out. Your father should retire and let you run the farm.’
‘Retire? Father?’ Sam gave a spurt of laughter. ‘Don’t let him hear you. He’s only fifty-one. Anyway I don’t want him to retire. He has plans and ideas of his own to carry out. Besides, he carries most of the responsibility so I have more freedom than if I was in charge.’
‘I think your parents are greedy, hanging on to the house and everything.’
‘Ach, Lidia,’ Sam was tired. ‘You don’t understand anything about farming. Mum and Dad have worked hard to get us where we are now. They have made sacrifices to give Alex and me a better start than they had. Besides, I might go abroad through the Young Farmers Association when Alex comes home to take my place. It would broaden my experience. I couldn’t do that if Mum and Dad weren’t there to manage everything.
‘You’re going abroad?’ Lidia’s eyes lit up. ‘We could get married and go for our honeymoon. I’d love that.’ Sam stared at her in dismay. He had no plans for marriage.
‘It’s not a holiday. It’s meant to be educational. I’d be staying with farming families. Other students might come to Bengairney in exchange. That’s the way it works.’ He yawned. ‘It’s time I was home and in bed.’ He gave her a swift kiss, jumped into his car and was gone before she could protest.
Tania and Rosie finished college and prepared to take on the world. Rosie had sailed through her exams and been offered a job in one of the large commercial nurseries. Mr Hudson told her it was a great opportunity but understood when she explained that John Oliphant was seventy-five and waiting for her to take over at Langton Tower.
Tania had taken a holiday job for the summer, working in a children’s home until term started and she could begin teaching. She and Struan spent most Saturday nights together now, going to the dances or to see a film. He had grown quite at ease with her family but Tania was diffident about going to Shawlands. His mother was sixty-one but she talked as though she were ninety. Her ailments changed every time Tania visited.
‘They change so often I can’t see how her illnesses can be serious,’ she confided to Rosie.
‘Maybe she’s a hypochondriac. What is Struan’s father like?’
‘He’s the opposite. He always makes me welcome. He was seventy-one in July and he still supervised all the work until Struan came home from university. He rides a great big stallion. He used to follow the hunt but Struan says he doesn’t go so often now. They both regard Struan and me as children.’ She chuckled at the thought. ‘Mr Ritchie is strict but he’s quite kind. Struan says his mother started with her ailments when his sister went to live abroad. He’s sure they’re imaginary.’
Rosie had taken her lecturer’s advice and joined one of the horticultural societies he recommended. She had every intention of keeping up to date with new ideas and varieties of seed and she had subscribed to two magazines.
‘I know I have a lot to learn,’ she told John Oliphant, ‘but Mr Gillis, another of our tutors, said I had been well taught in practical work. That’s thanks to you, Papa Oli.’ She gave him one of her wide smiles. They always lifted his spirits. There was an innocence and sincerity about Rosie which made her very loveable in his old eyes. He knew she wanted to prove she could be as good a business woman as her mother, as well as a good gardener and he was determined to do anything he could to help her succeed. It had often grieved him and Chrissie to see how hard Rosie tried to win her mother’s approval but Catherine Palmer-Farr never showed any motherly love. She had spent her childhood since she was eight at boarding school and he wondered if that had suppressed her natural emotions.
One thing which pleased him was Rosie’s appreciation of Paul Keir’s methodical work and his desire to learn. The lad had grown tall in the past year but he was still a slender, fine-boned young man and his fair hair and pale complexion gave him an air of fragility which was deceptive. He was diagnosed with leukaemia when he was eleven and his father had died when he was thirteen, leaving Mrs Keir a wealthy but anxious widow. She had been grateful when John Oliphant and Douglas Palmer-Farr agreed to give Paul a trial in the gardens. She would have had him work for nothing to give him an interest outdoors, but John Oliphant had suggested he should be paid according to his efforts to give him a sense of his own worth. Money did not guarantee health or happiness and John felt Mrs Keir was over protective, although he couldn’t blame her considering Paul had not been expected to survive.
‘You don’t need to prove anything to me,’ Rosie assured him one morning. She gave a little grimace. ‘If there’s one thing I’ve learned from my mother it’s to assess your workers and make the best use of their abilities. I already know you are reliable and conscientious, as well as intelligent. I believe you’re as keen to learn as I am. I will pass on some of my gardening magazines and newsletters and you can make a folder for yourself with notes on the things which interest you. It will be a help to have someone to discuss things with when I’m considering changes.’
‘Thank you, Miss Palmer-Farr.’ Paul’s thin face flushed with pleasure. ‘Mr Oliphant said I had nothing to worry about because he was sure we should get on, but I was anxious. Mum is too. I enjoy it here and fresh air is what the doctor recommended.’
‘Then don’t worry any more. Rodney is a different matter.’ She frowned, wondering how much she should discuss her other worker. ‘He is strong as a horse and so willing and eager to please that it’s hard to be angry with him, but sometimes he doesn’t listen, or he doesn’t take things
in. We must never allow him near any of the fertilizers or disinfectants. I have locked them up but I will give you a key. I would appreciate it if you would keep an eye on him too. I can’t watch him all the time. Don’t be afraid to correct him if he is doing something you know is wrong. I have decided all three of us should meet in the big shed every morning at 8.30. Mr Oliphant will be there too sometimes but he’s going to take things easier. We’ll discuss the work for the day and you will know what Rodney is supposed to be doing. You have my permission to guide him when I am away from the gardens. I intend to deliver the vegetables for the hotel myself instead of having both my mother and the new chef darting here, there and everywhere helping themselves. I have to make a profitable business of this and that includes keeping my own accounts and paying bills and your wages, so I shall need your cooperation. How do you feel about that?’
‘It is a great relief, Miss Palmer-Farr. I have seen Rodney do some strange things when Mr Oliphant was not looking. I was not sure whether I should interfere.’
‘Well now you know, Paul. And another thing – if we are to work together please call me Rosie, or Rosemary.’ She grinned. ‘You may need to call for me across the gardens. Using my first name will not stop me telling you off if you make a mistake,’ she warned. ‘I need to make a success of this venture. We are all in this together. If things go well I shall increase your pay, if not, we may all be looking for another job. Right?’
‘Right. You can count on me Miss…er, Rosemary.’ Paul smiled and Rosie was glad she had spoken frankly. He looked less worried and later she heard him whistling as he weeded between the rows of young plants. He looked about fifteen so Rosie was surprised to discover he was a year older than herself when she collected the wages sheets from the hotel office. He had not yet learned to drive so John Oliphant started him off in the van, going up and down the drive, before and after work. Rosie felt he would be a steady driver once he gained confidence.
‘It will be handy if I can send him to collect things, or do some deliveries now and then,’ Rosie said. She had done some accounting and a smattering of economics at college and she was determined to pay attention to the business side of her little enterprise. During the summer and autumn she did her bookkeeping in the evenings so she didn’t have much free time for visits to Bengairney. Both Sam and Alex missed her lively company.
‘Your grandfather says Rosie is taking her business very seriously and she’s working hard,’ Megan told them, ‘but she still makes time to cook him a hot meal and he helps her to make soup when they have a surplus of vegetables.’
It was the following spring when Steven heard there was a cottage and twenty-five acres of land to sell near the village of Darlonachie.
‘That’s near Martinwold,’ Sam said, ‘Do you think Mr Turner will be interested in buying it?’
‘I don’t know,’ his father replied. ‘You can ask him while you’re milking at Martinwold this weekend. I don’t want to bid against him when he’s been good enough to take on both my sons as students. If he’s not interested it could be an investment for us. It would save renting a couple of grass parks for summer grazing and it would raise some capital if we get the chance to rent another farm.’
Sam mentioned the sale to Mr Turner when he came into the dairy at Martinwold that Saturday.
‘I heard Jimmy Roland was selling a couple of fields off Mid Lochie,’ he nodded. ‘Is your father interested in buying?’
‘He is, but he doesn’t want to bid against you, Mr Turner.’
‘I hope you and Alex grow up to be as decent men as your father,’ Murdo Turner said. Sam considered he was already grown up. ‘Tell your father I wish him luck. The Rolands sold one of their cottages last year for two thousand pounds but it was in better condition than this one. Jimmy Roland is having a hard time. That son of his is useless. I feel sorry for old Jimmy but he should tell the lad to clear out if all he’s going to do is run up debts with gambling and women.’
Sam didn’t say anything. It was common knowledge Mr Turner had quarrelled with his own daughter over the debts her husband was running up. Dr Wright-Manton had spilled the beans himself while he was drunk in the Darlonachie pub.
Steven, Sam and Alex went to see the land and the cottage the following Tuesday.
‘The land is pretty good,’ Steven decided, ‘but it would benefit from some well rotted manure. It would be worth ploughing one of the fields for corn for a couple of years, then sow it back to grass.’
‘Yes,’ Sam said, ‘the new grass seed mixtures would be more productive. We could plough the other field for corn the following two years.’
‘We’d need to buy it first,’ Steven reminded him. ‘I’ll call on Jimmy Rolands. We’ll put in an offer but I’ll tell him we need an answer before this season’s grass parks come up for auction.’
The tenant of the cottage couldn’t show them round until half past three. She was a young woman with a small child and she seemed flustered to find them waiting for her.
‘We need to get home for the milking,’ Steven explained. ‘I believe you’re a school teacher?’
‘Y-yes I am. We-we only moved here in January. Now we’ll have to move out.’ She looked pale and tired and her voice shook.
‘Does your husband work in the area?’ Steven asked to put her at ease.
‘I…he…I’m a widow. M-my husband was killed last September. He was an engineer. A lorry skidded and ran right into Tim’s car.’
‘I’m so sorry to hear that,’ Steven said. ‘You put the kettle on and make yourself a cup of tea,’ he added kindly. ‘We only want a quick look. We’re more interested in the land. The cottage hasna had much done in the way of repairs, has it?’
‘I painted the living room and the bedroom as soon as we moved in. I tried to paint the kitchen and the bathroom but all those black specs have come through already.’ Sam noticed her defensive tone and the colour mounting her cheeks.
‘My father meant the landlord hadn’t done much general maintenance,’ he said.
‘Maintenance?’ she echoed. ‘I’ve been flushing the toilet with a bucket for a fortnight. Young Mr Roland said he would get a plumber to sort it but he’s never been. He didn’t even look at it himself.’
‘Please Mummy, can I make myself some tea? I’m famished,’ the little girl asked, ‘and some bread and strawberry jam?’
‘In a minute, Ginny, when I’ve attended to these two gentlemen.’
‘It’s all right, Mrs…?’ Steven began.
‘Green – Penny Green.’ She flashed him a harassed smile. ‘Ginny is nine. She’s always hungry by the time we get home. I was lucky to get a job in teaching so quickly and Mrs Struthers, the headmistress, has been very understanding. She told me about this cottage being vacant. Now I shall need to search for somewhere else. I doubt if there’ll be anything so convenient, or at such a low rent.’
‘Don’t do anything hasty,’ Steven advised. ‘If we are fortunate enough to buy the land we would be letting the cottage anyway – although I’d be ashamed of it in this state. It needs repairs to the door and windows for a start.’
‘I could take a look at the toilet for you, if you like?’ Sam offered.
‘Would you?’ Penny Green asked eagerly. ‘I’m afraid the water cistern is up in the loft. There’s a chain through the ceiling for flushing.’
‘Do you have a ladder?’
‘Yes, I bought one. I thought of using the loft as a bedroom but…’ she shrugged. ‘The ladder is in the coal shed. I’ll get it.’
‘I’ll bring it,’ Alex offered, ‘while you show Dad round.’
‘There’s not much more to see,’ Steven said, ‘but you do keep it clean and tidy, Mrs Green.’
‘I try. Do you mind if I attend to Ginny?’ She smiled down at the child waiting hopefully. ‘Can I offer you all a cup of tea?’
‘No thanks, we haven’t much time. Alex is doing his student year at Martinwold Farm so they’ll be expecting him back. You g
o ahead with Ginny’s jam sandwich,’ he said.
Ten minutes later Sam climbed down from the loft, grinning with satisfaction. ‘That’s the toilet sorted. The pin holding the ball cock had rusted through. Alex found me a bit of wire in the Land Rover. That should hold it in place until we – or someone else – gets a proper pin.’
‘What a relief. I don’t know how to thank you,’ Penny Green said.
‘No big deal.’ Sam smiled. ‘You’ve a good big loft up there and the roof seems to be sound enough, but I’ll bet it’s cold in winter? There’s no sarking under the slates.’
‘It was freezing when we moved in. That’s why I only use it for storage. I do hope you will manage to buy the land.’ She blushed. ‘I only pay a low rent. Would you charge a lot more?’
‘If we’re lucky enough to buy the land and the cottage,’ Steven said, glancing round, ‘I’d want to maintain this place in a better state. I’m not saying we should spend a lot of money on it, but I hope we would manage some improvement. Would you be willing to pay more rent?’
‘Within reason. Could we negotiate?’
‘Of course.’ Steven smiled. ‘Let’s hope Mr Roland is open to negotiation too.’
‘Mr Roland senior is very reasonable,’ Penny said, ‘but his son…’ she shuddered ‘He’s horrible, and he’s greedy.’
‘We hope to deal with his father. Good day to you, Mrs Green. I hope we shall meet again.’
‘What did you think, Dad?’ Alex asked when they were back in the Land Rover. ‘The land looks similar to Martinwold land – a decent loam, and it’s level. The burn down the edge of both fields means we wouldn’t have any worries about water for the cattle.’
‘No, that’s a big plus, Alex,’ Steven agreed. His younger son was full of enthusiasm. ‘I almost wish they hadn’t included the cottage. I’d be ashamed to let it out in that state.’
Another Home, Another Love Page 3