by L G Dickson
She sat back in her seat and let her mind drift away from all things legal. It had been over a year since she had met James and so much had happened – good and bad. Summer was transitioning into autumn. Trees, shedding their leaves, were getting ready to shut down for winter. Kirsty Drummond, bucking the trend, was more than ready to burst forth with new life. She was a week overdue and everybody knew it. Another evening listening to a blow-by-blow account of every twinge and ache beckoned.
‘Bloody hell, when is this thing going to pop?’ She was half-sitting, half-lying on the small comfy chair Duncan had brought into the dining room as the six friends had gathered at No. 92 for another one of his speciality curries. They were all the rage in the Drummond household at that moment but Kirsty could only do sitting on a hard seat to eat hers for short bursts at a time.
‘I’m sure it’ll be any day now, darling.’ Duncan was sitting at the head of the table, back to his wife and rolling his eyes. ‘What with all the extra hot curries and quick marches up and down Great King Street, really can’t be long now.’
‘Well, if you’d just get on and have sex with me like the midwife told you to, then it might be here by now.’ Kirsty was sitting looking at her stomach like it had been invaded by some alien life force.
‘She didn’t tell me to have sex with you, dear. It’s an option, but I think we’d probably both have to be in the mood.’ Eyes rolled again. James and Annie were trying hard not to laugh while Virginia and Gordon just kept their heads down. Annie wasn’t sure if Virginia was red from embarrassment or too much chili.
‘Well, I’m in the bloody mood, Duncan. I need to get this thing out of me.’
Duncan ever so slightly shook his head. He clearly had no more words.
James got up from his seat to pick up another napkin from the sideboard. Annie noticed him place his hand on Duncan’s shoulder, just for a moment, as he walked past.
How his view of the world and his place in it had mellowed over these past twelve months, Annie thought to herself. Tolerance, empathy. Not always the easiest concepts to master but he was getting there. Annie recognised the signs. She was just a little bit further round that particular learning curve, that was all.
‘Shall I start clearing up?’ Virginia ignored Kirsty in the corner and addressed her question to her fellow diners. Without waiting for an answer she was suddenly up collecting dishes and urging Gordon to do the same. They tidied up and everyone left the Drummonds still talking about sexual desire and the relative merits of positioning during pregnancy.
The following day Duncan rang to say they were heading to the hospital. Kirsty’s waters had broken while she was waddling round the New Town for the umpteenth time. Annie had just got in from work.
‘Oh, at last, Duncan, you must be relieved.’ They would all be relieved.
‘Too bloody right. Must go. Can you hear her? She’s starting to wail now.’
‘Look, just get her there in one piece. No mad driving and let me know when it’s all over.’
And before they knew it, in fact a mere five hours later, little John Duncan Drummond was born. Kirsty stayed true to her word and there wasn’t a Scottish surname anywhere other than its proper place, as far as she was concerned.
‘John. You can’t go wrong with John.’ That was Gordon’s underwhelming take on the naming saga.
‘It’s a lovely name. Such a clean, strong-sounding name for a little boy.’ Virginia piped up.
Annie had nothing to say about the name. It was fine. She just didn’t harbour the same visceral hatred of surnames for first names. Virginia and Gordon had called just after midnight to discuss and she was tired. Too tired to give much thought to baby names.
The friends, other than James, who was with a client in Perthshire, had gathered at No. 92 following Kirsty’s return home. Duncan had begged everyone to come down to the hospital to see the new arrival but Annie resisted. It was touching that Kirsty and Duncan wanted their friends to be the first to mark such an important milestone but Annie knew they risked breaching hospital protocol. In any case, Kirsty’s parents would be driving up, although, so far, there was no sign of Strachan and Marjorie.
Baby John and the impending move of the new little family to Drummond House dominated the following weeks. Kirsty had changed. Grown perhaps more than changed. It wasn’t just the whole maternal thing kicking in. Clearly she was knackered but there was this rather odd benign glow around her. The parents had been up to make sure all was well with mother and offspring but they couldn’t really leave the farm for too long and were away back down the road to tend to their own brood of sheep and cattle.
The surprise package in all of this was Strachan and Marjorie. They had turned into doting grandparents; doting but not overbearing. They were staying in a little guesthouse nearby and seemed to be always around on the edge of things. Kirsty lay back on the new recliner, breast out and baby clamped. She looked exhilarated and exhausted all at the same time.
‘You know, I really don’t mind the sleepless nights. I never was one for a full eight hours what with the snoring whale next to me.’
Annie had never seen her like this. People say parents can look besotted with their babies but she’d not been around many to make an informed judgment. Here it was, right in front of her.
‘Remind me I’ve said this to you in a few weeks’ time when I’m ready to call social work.’ Kirsty smiled weakly as she looked at the soft dark downy head, nuzzling and slurping.
Just then Marjorie appeared from the kitchen with tea and cakes. She laid the tray down then took her apron off.
‘Okay, dear, I’m just nipping to the shops. I’ve got the list. Is there anything else? I told Duncan’s dad I’d meet him in Stockbridge and we’d have lunch there but if you need me we can always come straight back.’
‘No, all good thanks, Marjorie. I’ve got Annie for the next couple of hours and Duncan should be back soon. We’ll be fine.’
Annie raised her eyebrows. She didn’t mean to, it had been an involuntary reaction. So everything would be fine because she was there in the event of a newborn baby emergency.
‘So everything going okay with the in-laws then?’ Annie poured the tea in readiness for the end of feeding time.
‘Yes, I know. Who’d have thought but Marjorie’s been an absolute angel and to be honest Strachan’s just been hanging about, not saying or doing very much at all. A bit awkward, a bit in awe of baby I think sometimes. Out of everybody he’s been the really emotional one. Duncan keeps talking about how much he’s softened and John has brought out his good side. I thought maybe the blood clot just zapped the impossibly arrogant Strachan and left us with this slightly overwrought model. But then I look at him, the way he looks at John.’
Baby had momentarily slipped off his feeding station, only to be gently nudged back into place by his mother. It looked to Annie as though she’d been doing this all her life.
‘I don’t know, but I was thinking about it earlier when he was here. Maybe he just doesn’t need to have an agenda with John. With the business, the boys – he must have felt it was all on him. Driving everything forward, trying to make a success of it all. But maybe with John, I don’t know.’ She looked down at her son and stroked the tiny strands of fine hair behind his ear. ‘Maybe he can just be his gramps – maybe that’s enough.’
Annie smiled. ‘Whatever the reason, it’s good that you’re happy having him around. It’ll make all the difference when you move.’ She had decided just to make the assumption that they were all heading north and await the reaction.
‘Yes. Yes it will. Not so much walking into the lions’ den.’ John had fallen asleep, satiated, little lips still pursed. Annie helped her friend out of the recliner so she could put him down in the bedroom next door.
That’s that, she thought. Friends were shifting, worlds were cha
nging but somehow it all felt less unsettling than before. Change because of loss could weaken, even diminish, but the last few months had brought new lives into her world, adding new dimensions, strengthening connections that were already there and creating others. The life that she’d deliberately kept small and tight was expanding and she wasn’t even going to try and stop it.
Kirsty tiptoed back into the room. ‘God, the paps get sore, Annie. And look at the size of them, they’re ridiculous.’ She clambered back on to the recliner. ‘But at least they’re finally being used the way nature intended – not just a pair of fun bags, are you?’ She was lying back holding each breast up in her hands.
Annie could only laugh. Some things, reassuringly, would never change.
*
In the years that followed, life for Annie and those closest to her settled down. Routines were established and some order restored. Life was different but she had reintroduced some structure and that made her happy.
Hugo came over at set times during the school holidays and was about to make his first trip alone. The friends would gather at Drummond House at least once a month and this summer Hugo was going to join them for the first time. He was sixteen and growing fast. It seemed like no time at all since they first met the mischievous little ten year old in Geneva.
James and Duncan were closer than ever and, according to James, ‘making real strides improving estate management in Highland Perthshire’. The whole thing still struggled to pique Annie’s interest but then James wasn’t that interested in legal practice, so it was all fine. Strachan had another mild stroke some months earlier and had completely stepped back from the business but spent his time happily doting on his grandson who, much to everyone else’s surprise, appeared to return the favour by heaping generous amounts of unrestrained affection on his gramps. All of which seemed to soften the blow for Strachan and Marjorie when Lachlan declared he was gay, four years after shacking up with a sheep famer somewhere near Dunedin on the South Island.
Virginia and Gordon remained in the same jobs; same house and joint chairs of the Campaign for a More Sustainable Stockbridge. How it could become any more sustainable was beyond Annie. There were more allotments, compost bins and bicycles in Stockbridge than the rest of Edinburgh and its environs put together.
Annie had been made partner at work. The firm was doing well and she was reaping the rewards. She was focused on building the firm’s client base and didn’t much miss the tedium of run-of-the-mill tribunal cases. James, Hugo and her friends remained at the centre of her existence.
A warm Saturday afternoon in the early August of 1997 at Drummond House brought the six friends together with Hugo and baby John. John, or Johnny as he was more commonly known, was quite the little bruiser at the tender age of five. James joked he was like a wee sumo wrestler when he was running around in nothing but shorts, planting his feet firmly down on each side as he pondered his next move, folds of chubbiness ripe for squeezing. He was potentially the most squeezable child she had ever come across and it took great powers of self-control not to leap up and grab the wee mite by his Michelin arms. She contented herself with watching Hugo running after him around the perfectly mowed lawn, which just made Johnny squeal with delight.
Annie lay back in her sun lounger on the patio sipping her gin and tonic watching the boys and glancing over at Kirsty who was giving Virginia a tour of her flowerbeds. Who would have thought? Kirsty Drummond – a gardener. Gordon returned to the shade after erecting a badminton net at the far end of the garden. He was wearing a large Australian sunhat with corks dangling down to ward off midges. Combined with his khaki shorts, sports socks and sandals he looked a riot but Annie had long given up being shocked at Gordon and Virginia’s state of attire. It was just who they were.
Duncan came round to top up the gins. He still enjoyed his gin – and wine and beer for that matter, his widening girth stood testament to that – but he possessed a degree of restraint now, across all aspects of his personality, that just hadn’t existed before. Kirsty had been right. He seemed to have found his place in the world; he looked happy.
‘So, chaps. A new Scottish Parliament – are we for it or against it?’
Annie hated when they strayed into the world of politics and much as James and Duncan were now on the same wavelength across a range of issues, there were still areas of contention. She lay back again and closed her eyes, hoping to shut out the intrusion into this perfect pastiche of an E. M. Forster novel.
‘Definitely yes for me, Duncan. Think how much easier it would be to get to politicians in Edinburgh on some of our land reform ideas. No one’s interested in Westminster or the Scottish Office for that matter.’ Annie could hear James’s voice and now waited in suspense to hear what Gordon had to say.
‘Gordon? If that is actually you behind the swaying corks.’
Gordon ignored Duncan’s last comment. ‘Well, on balance, I have given it a lot of thought and, well, Gin and I have been chatting it through quite a lot recently.’
Annie looked at him out the corner of a barely opened eye. He was leaning forward, shrouded in cork.
‘And I suppose when you look at the negatives but then weigh them up against the positives, I guess, and of course I’m not speaking for Gin on any of this, but I guess, I think, I’ll probably end up voting yes.’
‘Bloody hell, Gordon, you sounded positively constipated trying to get that out.’
Duncan turned towards Annie who, having breached her self-imposed blackout, quickly shut the guilty eye. Too late – she’d been spotted by incoming enemy fire.
‘And finally, Annie, who’s pretending to be asleep in the corner there. Thoughts?’
She’d had a few moments to prepare her response. ‘Well, actually, I’m going to read up on each side’s arguments and then make a decision. I’ve got loads of stuff – just haven’t had the time to look through it all.’
‘Very sensible, Annie. That’s the best way to approach these things.’ She could always count on Gordon to back up a rational position.
Although she had returned to complete blackout status she could hear James moving about in his seat.
‘But what does your instinct tell you, Annie? What does your gut say?’ James sounded concerned, anxious that she hadn’t yet made up her mind.
‘My gut doesn’t say anything. It’s not the sort of thing my gut gets excited about.’
After all, she spent so much of her working life dealing in facts; hard evidence. It wasn’t easy getting out the mindset. No judge was going to have much truck with Annie presenting a case based on gut instinct. In any case, on this issue, well, yes, she did have an inkling about how she might vote in the upcoming referendum but like any good lawyer she wanted to be sure of her facts; as sure as she could be. And she wasn’t going to disclose her position until she was quite ready to do so. Case closed.
‘Hugo, can you take Johnny and wash his hands. Time for his tea. Duncan can you get his tea ready – it just needs heating up. James, Gordon can you get everything set up for the barbecue. Daddy Drummond will want to get stuck in once his boy’s been fed but if you can just make sure everything’s ready that would be a huge help.’ Kirsty was barking out her orders and everyone jumped to it. Well, nearly everyone.
‘I just set up the badminton net, Kirst, doesn’t anyone want a game?’ Gordon was brave enough to challenge the Chatelaine’s authority.
‘Oh, I’ll play with you, darling,’ piped up Virginia.
‘Sure you would, Gin, but no time for that now. Chop chop. Tell you what, once everything’s on the go, we’ll get some badminton in.’ Kirsty slipped her arm into Gordon’s, planted a big kiss on his cheek and marched him off, corks swinging vigorously from side to side.
The men had assumed their positions, leaving the three girls to chat on the patio. The sun was still warm. Annie looked over at
James and Gordon standing at the shiny new barbecue. They were deep in conversation, Gordon emptying out the bag of coals and James holding a pair of large tongs aloft. And there stood Hugo by his side, hands in the pockets of his shorts and hanging on James’s every word. His mop of black curls was less unruly now – he was at an age when such things were starting to matter – and he was tall. He was going to be taller than his father; not as tall as James perhaps, but he wouldn’t be far off. She often thought how much like father and son they were. There was no genetic connection, obviously, and Hugo clearly retained physical characteristics from her father but perhaps it all came back to the question of nature or nurture. Did it matter? If the people around you, blood relatives or not, guided you in positive ways, just made life more interesting, more enjoyable when they were with you, were there for you when you needed them – that was all that mattered, wasn’t it?
Her moment of peaceful contemplation was shattered by James’s laugh. Hugo laughed too, right in there behind him. She pushed her lounger back to observe James, not something she was prone to do. They were normally alongside or directly opposite each other, sitting or lying. Very rarely did she have the opportunity to just watch him. He was getting greyer now but it suited him. His skin was softly tanned and his eyes still a beautiful watery blue. Annie noticed how, from time to time, he would turn to bring Hugo in to the conversation and she loved him just a little bit more for it. James’s relationship with Hugo was effortless – always encouraging, always reassuring. She breathed in deeply and surveyed the scene. Everything I want in life is right here, she thought. And with that Duncan burst through into the garden with trays of raw meat.