‘What do you think the land is worth?’ Sam asked. ‘A hundred pounds an acre? A hundred and twenty? It’s not like buying a farm. There’s no buildings included.’
‘We’ll discuss it with your mother when we get home,’ Steven said ‘but I reckon we could afford to offer £100 an acre and £800 for the cottage. It would take as much again to make it decent for that poor woman – or any other respectable tenant.’
‘That’s £3,300 then,’ Sam said.
‘We’ll offer £3,000 and be prepared to negotiate. We could go up to four at a pinch, but that wouldn’t leave anything for repairs, or any emergencies for us, such as a major machinery repair, or the need to buy extra fodder if we get a bad season. Remember we’ve agreed to pay for the new shed at Bengairney too.’
‘But we wouldn’t need to rent as much extra grass.’
‘True,’ Steven agreed. ‘The cottage might be worth something some day. Prices are increasing since decimalization.’
Steven called on Mr Roland the following day. After a bit of hard bargaining, in which Steven told him he’d be ashamed to offer a tenant the cottage in that state, they settled on £3,500.
‘I’ll see our solicitor without delay and put in a firm offer,’ Steven said. ‘I’d like it signed and paid before all the grass parks are let. I’ve already taken twenty acres at Highfold Farm. The auction was earlier this year.’
‘I’ll get my man onto it before that lad o’ mine gets back from his holidays,’ Rolands agreed. ‘I dinna ken how you manage two sons. Reece goes through money like water.’
‘Our lads know they need to watch the pennies if they want to farm.’ Steven felt he and Megan had been lucky with their family, but then he remembered Sam’s friendship with the Blade girl.
Megan knew Steven’s mind was on their latest acquisition as they lay in bed.
‘Is the cottage so dreadful?’ she asked, ‘or are you sorry for the young widow?’
‘A bit of both.’ He turned and drew her close. ‘Remember how worried your parents were when we wanted to get married before you finished your teacher training? The same thing could have happened to us and you’d have been left with young Sam.’ He kissed her and passion flared between them. Neither of them considered they would ever be too old for love.
‘Are you sleeping?’ Megan whispered later.
‘No,’ Steven chuckled. ‘Are you wanting a repeat performance?’
‘Steven…’ Megan warned, stifling a smile herself. ‘I was thinking about Mr Patterson. He drew the plans for my parents to modernize Honeysuckle Cottage. He knew about grants for improvements.’
‘So he did! That’s a good idea, Meggie. I’ll visit Mother tomorrow evening. He usually goes round for his meal.’
Angus Patterson seemed pleased Steven wanted his advice. ‘I still like to hear what’s going on,’ he said. ‘Young Archie Pattinson could help. He lives in the next road. The postmen kept getting our letters mixed due to similar names and him being an architect. He brought my letters round several times and we got talking. Shall I ask him to contact you? I know there is a grant for improving sanitation. Archie will tell you the details.’
‘Thank you.’ Steven nodded. ‘The bathroom and kitchen are a mess. I’d like to make them decent but we don’t want to spend too much.’
‘Archie will advise you,’ Mr Patterson assured him. ‘How is John Oliphant since his wife died?’
‘Better than we expected,’ Steven said. ‘He still helps at the gardens at Langton Tower and young Rosie is good to him. Tania visits him at weekends and he comes to us for his Sunday dinner. He’s bought himself a little freezer so Megan stocks it up. He never grumbles.’
‘I’m sure he appreciates having a loving family. I’ve appreciated your mother’s kindness to me over the years since my wife died.’ He smiled at Hannah.
Archie Pattinson, the young architect, called to see the cottage the following week when Penny Green would be home to show him and Steven round. He made several suggestions.
‘Even with a seventy-five per cent grant we can’t afford to build on a second storey,’ Steven said.
‘And a big house would be too much rent,’ Penny said.
‘All right.’ Archie smiled down at Ginny, who was gazing at him wide-eyed.
‘My daddy made us a lovely kitchen with lots of cupboards and pretty tiles,’ she said hopefully.
‘In that case I shall see what I can do,’ Archie promised. He agreed to send Steven a rough draft of two suggestions. ‘Or you could simply repair the flat roof,’ he said, ‘but whatever you decide, the electric wiring needs renewing. If it were my house, and given the present grant available, I would put two dormer windows in the roof and enlarge the existing skylight for a bathroom. Downstairs I’d demolish the lean-to and build one decent sized kitchen. Most people have an electric washing machine so there’s no need for a wash house and a coal bunker would replace the coal shed.’
‘Streamline things you mean. Sounds a good idea to me,’ Steven nodded, ‘but I need some idea of the cost. Send me the plans and estimates for the dormer windows idea.’
Steven returned to Bengairney feeling optimistic. The grants were more than he’d expected and any improvement should be a good investment.
‘We would have to lay out the money to complete the renovation,’ he told Megan, ‘but if we get on with it we should be able to claim the grant before we need to start paying out for the new shed.’
They sent a bunch of heifer stirks to graze the two Mid Lochie fields for the summer. There was no herdsman to check on them as there was with rented summer grazing so Sam and Steven took turns to check them most evenings. While Alex was working at Martinwold he was nearer, so he took his bicycle back with him so that he could take a turn at inspecting the cattle too. One evening in May he discovered an animal was missing. He walked to the next field in search of it. He was surprised to find a digger parked on the other side of the burn in the field still belonging to the Rolands but it was being used for dredging the burn and the operator was piling the spoil in their field as well as on the Rolands’ side. Their animals would need to scramble over to get to the water if it continued all the way beside their fields. The missing stirk was lying alone beside the far hedge. Alex knew instinctively there was something amiss. He got her onto her feet. One hind leg was swollen and she made no effort to move away when he ran his hand over her other legs. He left her in peace and cycled back. He met Mr Turner crossing the Martinwold farmyard. Alex told him about the lame animal and the digger.
‘Didn’t they consult your father before they started dredging?’
‘He would have mentioned it. I’m going down to the phone to tell him so he can see for himself in the morning.’
‘Use the phone in the office, Alex. Steven will want to know about the stirk being lame.’
‘I’ll go straight after breakfast,’ Steven promised. He trusted Alex’s judgment. He would have made a good vet. ‘I’ll take Joe in case we need to bring the lame animal home in the trailer.’
The following morning the digger was already at work and Steven went to speak to the driver.
‘Reece Rolands told me to dredge the burn to stop the low fields flooding but he didna say he’d sold those fields,’ the man said.
‘I can’t object to you dredging but I would like you to leave gaps to give the animals access to the water. They’re some of our best young stirks. I don’t want any more of them getting injured.’
‘I saw a wee beast lying beneath the hedge.’ The driver said. ‘It looked mighty dead tae me but I havena injured any o’ them.’
Steven was dismayed to find the stirk was dead. He bent to feel the swollen leg. It was hard and stiff. He was more worried when he saw two others limping. As Alex had said there was no blood or obvious wound. He sent Joe to bring the Land Rover and trailer closer.
‘We’ll need to take this one home with us, Joe. I’d take the two lame beasts as well but I don’t think we could get
them gathered up on our own.’
‘We could try,’ Joe said. He was always willing, but the young animals took off in a wild gallop round the field and the lame ones tried to limp after them.
‘There’s a third one beginning to limp,’ Steven said, ‘and its leg is swollen. Chasing them will cause more stress. We’ll get back home and I’ll phone the vet to see if he has any suggestions for treatment.’
It was Iain McNaught who answered the telephone. He sounded serious when Steven described the lame animals.
‘I think I’d better come and take a look. Have any of your animals had Blackleg?’
‘Not as far as I know.’ Steven frowned. ‘I’ve never heard of it.’
‘I’ll come right away. Lucky you caught me before I set off on my rounds.’ Steven was worried. Iain McNaught was young but he was a clever vet. He examined the dead animal in the trailer, his expression serious.
‘I’d like to see the others in the field. Are they on the land you bought?’
‘Yes. Why?’
‘I don’t want to alarm you but I ought to check the rest.’ When they reached the field Steven was more than alarmed to find another stirk already dead. Two others were lying down, panting and obviously unwell.
‘I’m afraid it is Blackleg,’ Ian said grimly after he had made a careful examination of the two lame animals. ‘I doubt if we can save these two. The rest need vaccinating without delay.’
‘Dear God. It must be a bad disease,’ Steven said.
‘It is. I brought some vaccine in the car as a precaution,’ Iain said, ‘but you’ll need to round them up to jag them and you might find more are affected before you’re finished.’
‘But how can they have got such a disease?’ Steven asked in consternation. ‘We rear our own replacements. We haven’t bought any animals in for years.’
‘The animals don’t infect each other. It’s caused by a spore-forming bacteria like anthrax. It can live for years in the soil. It’s proper name is Clostridium chauvoei. The animals ingest the bacteria. They’re usually dead within twelve to forty-eight hours so you don’t always notice they’re ill until it’s too late.’
‘It was Alex who noticed the first one last night. He thought she had a temperature and her leg was swollen.’
‘He’s observant and a good stockman. Don’t be surprised if you lose more of them. My advice is to vaccinate now. These animals are in good condition and they’re young. They’re the ones most often affected. I see you’re dredging the burn. It’s possible the spores have been lying dormant until the soil was disturbed but I couldn’t swear to that. I’m afraid you’ll need to vaccinate all your young stock every year from now on – at least for a good number of years.’
‘Good God! All of them? Every year? That’s going to cost something.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid it is, but prevention is the only solution and it’s better than risking losing fine young stirks like these.
‘Aye, you’re right there.’ Steven sighed heavily. ‘These are all pedigree. The registration fee is another loss now they’re dead. We’d better get back and get the vaccine from you, Iain. The sooner we get them done the better. I can’t afford to lose many more or we shall be out of business.’
‘I’m sure it will not come to that for Bengairney,’ Iain McNaught said, ‘but I know you are proud of your stock and I don’t blame you for being upset.’
‘Aye, I’ll ask Rolands if he knew about Blackleg when I see him.’
‘He does. He vaccinates all his young stock every year. He must have had it at some time. It’s a routine to him now. Pity he didn’t mention it.’
‘Aye, I wish to God he’d warned us,’ Steven said.
It was a bad time at Bengairney. By the time all the young animals had been vaccinated six of them had died. Steven felt so helpless he wanted to weep at the sight of them lying dead. But grown men didn’t weep, except inside. Megan understood and she held him tenderly in her arms when they were alone in bed.
‘You can’t blame yourself, Steven,’ she said. She felt upset and anxious about the loss herself but she knew these things happened in farming. They were a reminder that men did not know everything and life could be uncertain. Sam and Alex were shocked and upset by so many deaths. It was the first time either of them had seen such a disease strike out of the blue.
‘Bad though it is,’ Steven said, ‘if neither of you live to see anything worse you’ll be lucky. When your mother and I were starting farming some of the cows got contagious abortion. It nearly put us out of business before we’d begun. Tuberculosis was another menace before the herds became attested. A lot of good animals were slaughtered and there’s no guarantee it can’t flare up again. That’s why all the herds still have to be tested regularly. We must always be vigilant.’
‘We’ll not forget this,’ Sam said. ‘The wee Butterfly stirk was one of our best families.’
‘And what about Viola?’ Alex demanded. ‘I reared her myself from when she was born. Dad said I could take her and her offspring with me if ever I set up on my own.’
‘It’s part of farming and we have to move on,’ Steven said. He felt sick inside but it was no use making his sons even more upset.
Sam brooded. In two years’ time there would be six fewer heifers to sell, or to bring into the herd to produce more milk. It was a big loss but it was not just the money; he had hated seeing healthy cattle stretched out cold, killed by a disease which could have been prevented if they had known of the danger lurking in the soil.
‘For God’s sake, cheer up, Sam!’ Lidia snapped. ‘You’ve hardly spoken since you picked me up.’
‘I told you what happened,’ Sam said. ‘It’s enough to make anybody glum. Those animals were frisking around one minute and lying dead the next. Mum and Dad are upset too.’
‘Well if you think I’m going to put up with your moods you can think again. Forget about the bloody farm for once. I’m not interested in hearing about cattle dying.’
‘And I’m not interested in watching you bat your eyelashes at every Tom, Dick and Harry on the dance floor.’ Sam’s temper flared. ‘I don’t feel like dancing tonight. Shall I take you home now or do you want to beg a lift with one of the fellows who keeps ogling at you?’
‘I don’t need to beg!’ She flounced away from him. Sam took her at her word and went home. Their relationship was often stormy but Sam had thought Lidia would share his sadness. His grandfather was right. She had looks and glamour but no substance. She was not the sort to lend support to a working farmer, as his mother had done all her life. He was better without her.
The following lunchtime Lidia telephoned all sweet and gushing with sympathy.
‘No, I’m not taking you to the films tonight,’ Sam said, unimpressed. Lidia whispered endearments and apologies.
‘I’ll pick you up on Friday.’ Even as he put the phone down Sam despised himself. In his heart he knew Lidia was not the kind of woman he wanted to spend his life with but she could be so damned alluring. He knew it was shallow to keep going out with her. When he was away from her he had no illusions about either Lidia or himself. He knew now she had singled him out after his birthday party when she had seen his home and assumed his family was wealthy.
Steven was surprised how quickly the improvements were going ahead for Midloch Cottage. Archie Pattinson had completed the plans and applied for a grant on their behalf, but he still came to the cottage on the pretext of inspecting the progress.
‘Maybe he’s attracted to Mrs Green,’ Megan said.
‘But he’s a young architect and Penny is a widow with a child.’
‘A young and attractive widow. Remember Ruth already had Avril when Lint met her. It didn’t stop him falling in love.’
‘That’s true,’ Steven nodded. ‘Well it’s young Pattinson’s affair. He took care with the plans. He thinks we might decide to retire there ourselves one day so he made sure there would be room for a further extension.’
Both Megan and Steven put the cottage out of their minds. The foundations for the new shed were being laid and the steel posts and girders had arrived ready for erection. Samuel was paying great attention to the measurements and position, making sure everything was as they had planned.
‘Everything seems to be going up in price,’ Megan remarked, ‘and I don’t like all this unrest and talk of strikes and electricity blackouts.’
THREE
At Langton Tower Rosie was enjoying making her own decisions. There was a happy atmosphere with Paul often whistling or humming a popular song, while Rodney worked away with a smile on his face. Her mother had agreed with her idea of placing a daily order for fruit and vegetables for the hotel. Rosie delivered them to the kitchens and things were working well, except for the new chef.
Catherine had hired two chefs from London when the hotel first became established. They had preferred the privacy of the converted stable cottage, which adjoined the walled garden. It was now in Rosemary’s grounds, along with the orchard and the paddock with the back drive running through it so she was pleased when the new chef had insisted on having a room in the hotel above the kitchens with food, laundry and heating as perks. His name was Louis Lambert, which he pronounced Lambère. He had begun to walk around the gardens at odd times and his attitude irritated Rosie.
‘I swear I’ll hit him on the head with my spade if I catch him helping himself to herbs and fruit again without putting them through the hotel’s accounts,’ she said to Paul one morning.
‘I have seen him prowling round when I arrive early. I was afraid you might think Rodney or I had stolen the first ripe tomatoes, and some of the early strawberries.’
‘You should have told me, Paul. Tell him he has no business in this part of the grounds if you see him again. You have my authority to be as blunt as you like.’ Paul’s thin face flushed and Rosie knew he would not quarrel with the chef if he could avoid it.
‘I don’t like that man,’ she muttered, ‘he can’t keep his hands to himself – and I don’t mean the vegetables.’
Another Home, Another Love Page 4