‘Yes, Uncle,’ Sophie said, ‘and he works for the same company.’
‘Och well, I hope he’s a good man to you, Tilly, so I do.’ He hobbled off his stool. ‘Tea, eh? We’ll have a pot o’ tea, right enough. Coming up, lassies. And you’re in luck; I’ve been out and caught a fish this morning. Tilly, you come over here and help me gut its innards,’ he chuckled.
They stayed the night, happy to keep the old man company and talked late into the evening, reminiscing about times past. He was a fund of family stories and anecdotes from the last century when the Andersons had been the elite of weavers in the Perth area. The cousins never tired of hearing them.
‘You remind me of my nieces,’ he said, puffing on an old clay pipe. ‘Aye, Jessie was the home-maker like you Tilly – but not afraid to travel halfway across the world to be wed and have a family. Aye, that’s what she always wanted – a family of her own.’
The cousins exchanged glances across the dim room, Sophie’s eyes glinting with emotion that her mother should have had her life snatched away so cruelly.
‘And you Sophie,’ Daniel continued his musing, ‘just like that headstrong Amy. Always in a hurry to change the world and woe betide any slow fool who got in her way! But just as loving in her own way – no patience – but a loyal heart and a strong sense of justice.’
‘I’ve never thought of myself being like Auntie Amy,’ Sophie said, ‘or you like my mother, Tilly. But I like the idea – it’s comforting to think Mother was kind like you – it somehow brings her closer.’
The next morning they took Daniel to the kirk and cooked a vegetable broth which they ate together before they left. A wind was getting up and Sophie was keen to be on the road.
‘Aye, there’s a storm coming from the west,’ Daniel predicted, ‘I can smell it on the air.’
They hugged him goodbye and ignored the tutting from his neighbour at their travelling on a Sunday and on such an ungodly machine. They were buffeted around on the journey south, Sophie gripping hard to the handlebars, until her aching arms became rigid and numb. But they pressed on, as blackening clouds rolled in from the west. The storm broke over them as they reached the outskirts of Edinburgh, cold horizontal rain and swirling wind nearly throwing them off the motorcycle.
They reached Clerk Street, drenched and chilled to the bone, but climbed off the bike shaking with relief. Sophie fumbled the key into the outside door with numb fingers and they fell into the dark hallway, gasping and laughing and shaking themselves down.
‘You can go first in the tin bath, Tilly,’ Sophie offered. ‘You’ve gone blue. Hope Auntie Amy’s got something good in for tea. I could eat an elephant.’
Sophie climbed to the second floor with legs buckling from fatigue. She fell in the door first. ‘We’re back! Drowned as rats but we did it.’
The flat was half dark from the storm outside; her aunt had yet to light the gas lamp in the sitting-room.
‘Auntie Amy?’ The kitchen was in darkness too.
‘She’s probably taking forty winks,’ Tilly panted, flopping into the battered armchair that had been demoted to the kitchen.
Sophie glanced into the workroom on her way to check her aunt’s bedroom. Something wasn’t right. The bookcase was lying on the floor. She pushed into the room, peering in the gloom. She couldn’t make sense of what she was seeing. There were legs sticking out from under the massive bookcase.
‘Oh my God!’ Sophie gasped. She sprang round to the other side. Amy’s face was staring up at her like a death mask.
‘Auntie Amy!’ Sophie screamed.
Suddenly, her aunt’s eyes flickered open. She tried to mouth something.
‘I’m here, Auntie,’ Sophie cried. ‘Don’t move.’ She shoved at the heavy bookcase but it didn’t budge a fraction.
‘Tilly! Tilly!’ Sophie yelled.
Her cousin came rushing to help.
Chapter 12
The cousins managed to heave the heavy bookcase away from Amy; how long she had lain trapped under it they couldn’t tell and she couldn’t answer. Her eyes had closed again and she did not respond to Sophie’s beseeching. Her limbs were cold and her breathing shallow.
‘She’s still breathing Tilly! Auntie Amy I’m here now, can you hear me? Please open your eyes! You’re going to be all right; we’re going to get help. Please be all right!’
Tilly stood watching and feeling helpless. ‘What can I do?’
‘I’m frightened to move her,’ Sophie said. ‘Fetch a blanket to keep her warm. I’ll go and get help – the neighbour downstairs has a telephone.’ Sophie leapt up. ‘Hold on Auntie, I won’t be long.’
Dashing from the flat, she clattered downstairs and hammered on the door below.
‘Mr Stronach, please help! Mr Stronach!’
It seemed an age before she heard the lock turn and the bank clerk peered out. Sophie gabbled out her story and at once he was galvanised into ringing for an ambulance.
‘You’re soaked through,’ his wife cried, ‘come and sit down a minute by the fire.’
‘No, I must go and be with Auntie,’ Sophie said, hardly aware of her bedraggled state. ‘But thank you.’
‘Let us bring up some hot tea at least,’ Mrs Stronach insisted. Sophie nodded gratefully and rushed back upstairs.
In the gloom, Tilly was crouched beside the prone figure, stroking her hair in comfort. Sophie nearly broke down at the tender sight.
‘Has she spoken?’
‘She was trying to say something before,’ Tilly whispered, ‘she called me Jessie. But I don’t think she can hear me.’
Sophie kneeled at the other side and searched under the blanket for her aunt’s hand.
‘I’m so sorry for leaving you, Auntie Amy,’ she whispered, squeezing her limp hand. ‘It was selfish of me. We missed having you with us – and Great Uncle Daniel was asking for you – and I’m to give you a kiss.’ She leaned forward and kissed Amy gently on the forehead. ‘And this one’s from me,’ she kissed her cheek. ‘I’m never going to leave you again. You’re the best aunt a girl could ever have – more like a mother than my own mother.’
Sophie’s voice wavered, as a huge lump formed in her throat. She thought she felt her aunt’s fingers flutter in hers but she appeared unconscious.
‘Just hang on tight,’ Sophie encouraged. ‘Tilly and I are here with you, Auntie. Help’s on its way.’
The Stronachs appeared with tea, but Sophie could swallow nothing. Tilly put a blanket around her cousin and slurped at the hot sugary drink to stop her teeth chattering.
Then there was a clattering on the stairs and two ambulance men appeared with a stretcher. The Stronachs steered the young women out of the cramped room and minutes later Amy was being carried from the flat.
One of the men murmured something to Mr Stronach, his expression grim.
‘What did he say?’ Sophie demanded.
‘Miss Anderson is not conscious,’ he said, ‘the hospital will do their best.’
Sophie made to follow. The bank clerk stood in her way. ‘You can’t go with them, Miss Logan. Let them do their work. I’ll ring later and you can visit tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow? But she needs me with her now,’ Sophie fretted.
‘You’ve done all you can for her,’ Tilly tried to be reassuring. ‘It’s a doctor she needs now.’
‘Your cousin’s right,’ Mrs Stronach said firmly. ‘Now fetch some dry clothes and you’ll come downstairs and get warmed by the fire. I’ll not have you lassies catching cold up here. What will your aunt say, if she comes home to find you two with pneumonia?’
Sophie allowed the kindly neighbours to take charge and lead them below.
Mr Stronach rang the hospital but could get no information on Amy except that she had been admitted and her condition was poor. They could visit the following afternoon.
‘I can’t wait that long,’ Sophie cried. It seemed an eternity.
‘You’ll just have to,’ Mrs Stronach said, chivvying th
e cousins to eat some bread and cheese and later bedding them down by their fire.
Sophie woke in the early hours, amazed she had slept at all. Tilly lay curled like a hibernating animal under a heavy quilt, her red hair spread across the pillow. She felt a huge surge of gratitude that her cousin was with her, facing this nightmare together. If she was to lose Auntie Amy ... No! Such thoughts were too frightening. Her aunt had broken her leg or had something that could be fixed. When they visited later today, she would be sitting up in bed, smiling and telling them not to fuss.
Mr Stronach came back at half past twelve for his lunch and rang the hospital again. They were told to visit at two o’clock. Mrs Stronach fixed on an old-fashioned bonnet and set out with the cousins to the hospital.
At the entrance to the ward, they were stopped by a young nurse.
‘Matron would like a word,’ she said with an anxious look and ushered them into a side room. ‘Please sit down.’ Only Mrs Stronach did so.
The nurse disappeared. Matron came in with a balding doctor.
‘This is Dr MacLean,’ she announced.
‘What’s happened?’ Sophie gasped, fearful at their sombre expressions. ‘Why can’t we see Auntie Amy?’
The doctor cleared his throat. ‘You are Miss Anderson’s next of kin?’
Sophie nodded. ‘Her niece; Sophie Logan.’
‘I’m very sorry to have to tell you, Miss Logan, that your aunt passed away an hour ago.’
Sophie stood stunned. Tilly went at once to grasp her hand and guide her to a chair. Seeing that Sophie was speechless, Tilly asked, ‘please tell us what happened, Doctor.’
‘Heart failure,’ he was frank.
‘Her heart?’ Tilly frowned.
‘We think she had an attack yesterday,’ he explained, ‘and that’s why she reached out and grabbed something heavy as she fell. She had another attack this morning – her heart just wasn’t strong enough to survive.’
‘But she’s fit as an ox,’ Sophie cried. ‘She’s never been ill in her life.’
The doctor gave her a look of sympathy. ‘Often there are few signs of heart disease. Perhaps she was a little tired lately or breathless?’
Sophie thought of her aunt playing tennis just a month ago with Boz and Rafi; hardly the signs of a weak heart. But then she had stopped the game early. And she hadn’t been working with her usual enthusiasm of late; she had kept putting off finishing the bookcase. Sophie realised she had been too wrapped up in her infatuation with Tam to notice signs of her aunt’s illness.
‘I should never have left her alone over the weekend,’ Sophie agonised.
‘You weren’t to know,’ Tilly said, ‘she seemed fit as a fiddle.’
‘But if we’d got home sooner and she hadn’t been lying unable to move all that time–’
‘You mustn’t upset yourself with such thoughts,’ Mrs Stronach said. ‘Her time had come and there’s nothing you could have done.’
‘Of course I could have done something!’ Sophie said. ‘It’s my fault she was left there so long. Could I have saved her, Dr MacLean? Please tell me the truth.’
A tense silence seemed to suck the air out of the room. The doctor paused then shook his head. ‘You couldn’t have stopped the heart attacks. You mustn’t blame yourself Miss Logan.’
‘See Sophie,’ Tilly comforted, ‘it’s not your fault.’
Sophie felt her guilt ease a fraction. ‘But I could have been there to comfort her,’ she whispered. ‘I should have been there. She would have wanted me.’
‘She knew you were there,’ Tilly said. ‘She was asking for you when you went for help.’
‘Was she?’ Sophie gasped.
Tilly swallowed and nodded. ‘You were the one who meant the most to Auntie Amy.’
‘Thank you,’ Sophie threw her arms around her friend and sobbed into her shoulder. Tilly gave way to tears too.
The doctor and matron withdrew and left Mrs Stronach patting the distraught young women and telling them to put on a brave face. Tilly helped Sophie to her feet, her heart aching for her dear cousin, even more alone in the world than before. She would never tell her of the panic in Auntie Amy’s eyes when, lying semi-conscious on the cold workroom floor, she had mistaken her for Jessie.
She had turned pained eyes on Tilly and whispered, ‘Is that you Jessie? Don’t go away again. Your lassie needs you ...’
Chapter 13
The day before Amy Anderson’s funeral, Tam and the other forestry students returned to Edinburgh. Tilly had written to Tam’s mother and sister explaining about the death. His sister Flora had written back to Tilly, passing on condolences, but expressing surprise as she was unaware that her brother was so well acquainted with the family. Tilly only conveyed the message of sympathy to Sophie. She was concerned that Sophie was driving herself too hard. After her showing of grief at the hospital, Sophie had buried her emotions and got on with organising the funeral and sorting out her aunt’s affairs. Tilly had called on Mona to come from Dunbar and help.
‘You must eat and rest,’ Mona had fussed, taking charge of the household. ‘I’ll not let you waste away. All these other matters can wait. Walter can help with the paperwork, all in good time. Mother’s terribly upset at the news of course.’
A large bouquet of flowers arrived from Miss Gorrie and the charity where Sophie worked, but it was a knock on the door late that evening that brought a wan smile back to Sophie’s drawn face.
‘Tam!’ she croaked and fell into his arms, succumbing to tears of relief at seeing him. He rubbed her back.
‘My poor girl,’ he soothed, ‘I’m so sorry about your aunt. I came as soon as I heard. The lads send their condolences too.’
‘Don’t leave the man on the doorstep Sophie,’ Mona chided, bustling forward. ‘You must be the Mr Telfer we’ve heard so much about? Come in! I’m Cousin Mona – and this is Cousin Tilly.’
Tilly rose and greeted the handsome forester who gave her a firm handshake and ready smile; she understood at once how Sophie had fallen for him.
‘I shan’t stay long,’ he insisted, ‘but I wanted to assure you that we shall be there tomorrow to show our respects. Flora saw the notice in The Scotsman. And ladies, if there is anything any of us can do, you just have to ask.’
They enquired about his trip but he told them little. ‘I’m glad to be home,’ he said. ‘The forestry was interesting but my thoughts were often elsewhere.’ He gave Sophie a meaningful look. After ten minutes he stood to go. Sophie noticed there was a tired, pinched look to his lean face. It would be selfish of her to try and make him stay longer, though that’s what she wanted most. She saw him to the door.
‘Be full of courage,’ he encouraged, ‘I’ll be there to support you.’ He kissed her swiftly on the cheek and went.
Mona was impressed by his concerned manner and that he had come rushing round after a long and tiring rail journey.
‘What a kind young man,’ she approved. ‘It’s obvious how much he cares for you, Sophie.’
‘Do you think so?’ Sophie’s unhappiness lifted a fraction.
‘Yes I do,’ Mona said. ‘Don’t you agree Tilly?’
Tilly nodded. ‘And he’s just as handsome as you said.’
***
The Church of Scotland on Clerk Street was full of mourners: kirk friends, former suffragists, patrons of Amy’s bespoke furniture business, shopkeepers and former pupils from her Sunday School classes. Sophie was astonished at how many people of all ages Amy had known and who now filled the pews and raised the roof with their singing.
But the family took up only one bench: Great Uncle Daniel (who had struggled through on the train and was weeping openly), the Watsons and herself. Jacobina had managed to get down for the funeral but would have to travel back to Inverness that evening. Johnny and Helena had sent a telegram from India. It brought home painfully to Sophie how little family she had left in the world and all of them on her mother’s side. Her father had been the only child of
his family to survive into adulthood and if there were more distant Logan relations, contact had been lost long ago.
Sophie clung to the thought that she had a few loyal and trusted friends who had rallied around her – two girls from school, the invalided Major MacGregor, Miss Gorrie, some friends from the tennis club – and most importantly of all, Tam, who stood across the aisle, tall and strong-shouldered among his student comrades, his voice booming out above the others.
Afterwards, as they served up refreshments in the kirk hall, Tam stood close by and Sophie felt his strong presence giving her courage as she talked to the dozens of her aunt’s friends who wished to reminisce.
As they left for home, Tam said, ‘I know this is a time of deep mourning for you but may I call on you in a day or two – to see how you are?’
‘Please, I’d like that,’ Sophie smiled.
Tam was struck by how beautiful and how sad she looked; her large brown eyes like dark pools in her pale face, her pink lips trembling in the attempt to stay cheerful. Her fair hair was pulled back from her broad expressive face and hidden beneath a close-fitting black hat; her figure slim and elegant in a plain black dress and stockings. She looked older; gone was the effusive, happy-go-lucky girl that he had left a mere month ago. His heart ached for her and he wanted nothing more than to crush her in his arms and give her comfort.
Boz and Rafi appeared beside them, shaking Sophie’s hand in goodbye.
‘If there’s anything I can do?’ Boz offered.
‘We liked your aunt very much,’ Rafi added.
‘Thank you both,’ Sophie smiled. ‘It’s enough that you came today. It means a great deal.’
Tam felt a ridiculous flood of jealousy. ‘I’ll see Sophie across the road,’ he insisted. ‘It’s been an exhausting day.’
Boz looked about to argue, then stepped back. Tam took Sophie’s arm and steered her from the hall, the Watson family following. Back at the flat, Tam lingered long enough to say, ‘I know now is not the time to press you to a social engagement, but when you feel ready, I’d like you to come for a meal to Roseburn and meet my mother and sister. Flora is keen to meet you.’
THE PLANTER'S BRIDE: A story of intrigue and passion: sequel to THE TEA PLANTER'S DAUGHTER (India Tea Series Book 2) Page 11