A Crimson Dawn

by Janet MacLeod Trotter

  Helen intervened. ‘Emmie, why don’t you gan up to Louise’s and say goodbye? You could take Nell with you. Get a bit fresh air - it’s too hot to stay indoors.’

  Emmie nodded and stood up quickly. But Nell smoothed out her skirt and sat back.

  ‘No, ta, I’ll wait here. Wouldn’t mind another of your tasty scones, Mrs MacRae,’ she smiled prettily.

  An hour passed and Jonas offered to show Flora around his allotment. Again Nell declined to move. Helen was irritated by the girl but tried not to show it. She got on with making the tea, with no offer of help from Nell.

  Eventually Nell asked, ‘Where are the older lads?’

  ‘Still at the pit,’ Helen told her. ‘Be back in a couple of hours.’

  Nell’s face fell. She grew impatient to be gone.

  ‘Where’s Emmie? How long does it take to say ta-ra to someone? I want to gan home.’

  ‘Louise has been a good friend to your sister,’ Helen pointed out. ‘It’s not easy for the lass to leave.’

  ‘She’s only been here a few months.’ Nell was dismissive. ‘Me and Emmie’s been friends all our lives. She doesn’t need this Louise - she’s got me.’

  Helen bit back a retort about the world not revolving around Nell Kelso. But the girl had just lost her mother; she mustn’t judge her too harshly. Still, she could not help feeling that Nell just wanted Emmie there as company in a house of adults, someone to boss around and do her bidding. Perhaps she was wrong.

  ‘Let’s go up to Denmark Street and fetch her, eh?’ Helen suggested.

  Nell looked at her sulkily, then with a big sigh got to her feet. They walked up the hill in the sunshine, Helen trying to draw Nell out of her moodiness.

  ‘Don’t suppose you see much of Dr Jameson, with her being that busy?’

  Nell shrugged. ‘I work at the surgery, so I see her plenty.’

  ‘And in the evenings?’ Helen asked.

  ‘Aye, we eat together. Or sometimes I have to meet her at the Settlement if she’s got a meetin’ or lecture.’

  Helen nodded. ‘Jonas heard Keir Hardie speak there once.’

  Nell looked at her blankly. ‘I hate ganin’ there,’ she said with distaste. ‘It’s in a dirty, smelly part of town down by the docks. The people who gan there smell an’ all. I can’t see what posh people like Mr Oliphant want to live there for.’

  ‘Mr Oliphant?’ Helen said in surprise.

  ‘Aye, Charles Oliphant,’ Nell said importantly. ‘They say he’s stinkin’ rich, but wants to live with the poor. I think the doctor’s taken a fancy to him.’

  Helen hushed her. ‘Eeh, lass, you mustn’t gossip about your guardian like that.’

  Nell was amused. ‘But it’s true. She goes all soppy-voiced when she speaks to him. And he goes red as a beetroot when he speaks to her.’

  They arrived at the Currans’ before Helen could question her further.

  Tom came to the door. He stared at Nell and stammered, ‘Sh-she’s not here. We’re having our tea.’

  Nell gave him a generous smile. ‘We don’t want to disturb you. But do you know where me sister went?’

  Tom blushed. ‘I’ll fetch our Louise.’

  It was Mr Curran who came to the door and nodded curtly. ‘Emmie hasn’t been here today. Louise hasn’t seen her since school yesterday. We thought she’d already gone.’

  Helen was nonplussed. ‘But she came to say goodbye.’

  Mr Curran gave her a pitying look. ‘The lasses had a falling-out at school. Emmie was boasting about going to live in a posh house in the town. Our Louise took it to mean that we weren’t good enough for her any more. It’s a shame she didn’t learn a bit more humility in your care, Mrs MacRae.’

  Helen wanted to give him a mouthful. How dare he lecture her about humility, the pompous oaf! She did not believe Emmie had been boastful. It was far more likely that the domineering Louise had taken affront at the girl’s departure and caused the rift.

  She clenched her fists. ‘If you should happen to see Emmie, please send her straight home, Mr Curran.’

  Tom, who was hovering behind his father, eyeing Nell, piped up, ‘We could gan out after tea and look for her.’

  Without a glance, his father barked, ‘Get back inside, son. No one asked for your opinion.’

  ‘Thank you, Tom,’ Helen called, before the door was firmly shut in their faces.

  Helen hurried to the allotments, Nell running to keep up.

  ‘Emmie’s gone missing,’ she panted.

  At once, Helen and Jonas began knocking on neighbouring doors, asking if anyone had seen the girl. Peter was dispatched to the shops to look for her there and to call on Emmie’s teacher, Miss Downs. Flora waited anxiously at the house in case she returned, Nell fretting that they would not get back before nightfall.

  She instantly lost her sullen look when Rab and Sam traipsed in. They stopped in surprise as Flora explained. Without taking off their filthy clothes, they went straight back out to help in the search. There was no sign of her around the village.

  ‘You take Peter and gan to Oliphant’s Wood,’ Rab told Sam. ‘I’ll gan out the top road.’

  Wheeling his father’s old bicycle up the dirt road, past the pit, he mounted it and set off across the fell towards Blackton Heights. He had an inkling that if Emmie was looking for escape, she would have headed up to her favourite waterfall above Oliphant’s place. It was on private land and Rab should never have encouraged her to go there, but Emmie had thrilled in the secrecy.

  An evening breeze was stirring as he emerged on to the moorland that stretched in a great arc of heather and bracken above the village. He cycled along an old drover’s track that in winter was a stream, dismounting to carry the bicycle across a series of gullies. At the old quarry, he abandoned it and continued on foot. There was no one about; the only sound that of a lone skylark. Rab almost turned back. She would never have come on her own to such a desolate place.

  Still, he pressed on round the ridge and climbed the last steep ascent to Lonely Stones, a ring of weathered stones marking an ancient Iron Age hillfort. Down below, sheltered in a copse of beech and pines, sprawled Blackton Heights, the Palladian mansion of the MacRaes’ employer. Rab scrambled down the steep outcrop of rock and edged towards the waterfall hidden in the plantation of pines.

  He could hear its roar muffled by the trees. It lay beyond, on Oliphant’s private estate, though when his mother had been a girl, it had been a popular picnic spot for local families. Rab had kept up the tradition in defiance of the notices threatening to shoot trespassers. Climbing the fence, he hoped the gamekeeper was at home for the evening.

  It was gloomy in the trees and the air smelled damp. He did not believe in ghosts, but he could almost feel the presence of long-dead pagan Britons peering at him from behind the trees. Surely Emmie would not have lingered here?

  He rounded a large rock. Huddled in a moth-eaten blanket that Helen used on the wash-house floor, crouched a familiar slim figure.

  ‘Emmie!’ Rab cried.

  She stood up, letting out a loud sob. In an instant he had her in his strong arms, hugging her tight. She was shaking with cold and distress.

  ‘We’ve been lookin’ all over. What you run off for?’

  Emmie buried her head into his grimy jacket and wept, unable to speak. He stroked her head, calming her down.

  ‘It’s all right. Nobody’s ganin’ to be angry. You’re safe and that’s all that matters.’

  He felt her shaking lessen, the sobs growing quieter.

  ‘I don’t want…’ she tried to speak, ‘… don’t want t-to . . .’

  ‘Don’t want what, Emmie?’

  She looked up at him with huge sad eyes. ‘I don’t want to leave here - l-leave you and Auntie Helen.’

  Rab felt his insides twist. ‘But Nell? You want to be with your sister, don’t you?’

  She shook her head. ‘Not if it means leaving Crawdene.’ Suddenly her sorrow came tumbling out. ‘I hate the town
; I don’t want to live there. And Nell’s working now; she’ll soon get tired of having me around. I just annoy her and I don’t even know why. And I don’t want a room of me own. I like sleepin’ with the fire and Uncle Jonas snoring. It makes me feel cosy. And I want Louise to be me friend again like before. She’s angry at me for ganin’ away and says she won’t be me friend, ‘cos I like me sister more than her.’ Her chin trembled again as she searched his face. ‘And you tell the best stories ever - and you and Sam make me laugh. I’ve never been as happy - even with Mam. And now I haven’t got Mam, but I’ve got Auntie Helen and I don’t want to gan away, even if the doctor is kind.’

  Tears spilled down her cheeks again and she rubbed them on Rab’s chest, smearing her face with coal dust.

  After a long moment, he said, ‘You don’t have to. I’ll not let them take you away, if that’s what you want.’

  She gazed at him in awe. ‘Can you stop them?’

  Rab looked at her stubbornly. ‘MacRaes can stop owt they want, once they put their mind to it.’ He gave her a quick smile. ‘Haway, little ‘un. Let’s get you home.’

  He picked her up and carried her in his arms, hauling her over the fence and back down the hillside to the quarry. She perched on the back of the bicycle and they bumped their way down to the village, now engulfed in shadow.

  There was consternation at her reappearance. Helen threw a warm blanket around her, cuddling her tight, while Jonas mixed her a hot toddy. Flora looked on in disapproval at the shot of whisky he poured for Emmie, then the one for himself. But the MacRaes’ relief was so palpable, she said nothing. The other boys returned and fussed over Emmie too.

  ‘Now we can go home at last,’ Nell snapped, resentful of the attention her sister was getting. ‘Come on, Emmie. I’ll carry your bag if you like.’

  Emmie eyed her sister nervously, but did not move. Flora caught the looks passing between the MacRaes. She also noticed Emmie’s exhausted state.

  ‘It’s getting late. Emmie looks tired out. Perhaps we should leave it a day or two? Rab could bring her into town during the week. Less fuss,’ she murmured.

  Helen nodded with relief. But Rab stepped over to Emmie and laid a protective hand on her head.

  ‘Why don’t you ask Emmie what she wants?’ he challenged. They all stared at him. ‘She wants to stay here. She wants a mam — her Auntie Helen’s the nearest she’s got to one now. She’s settled in here and made it her home. What you want to take her away to a strange new place for? Don’t mean to be disrespectful, Dr Jameson, but she’ll get just as much learnin’ with us as she would with you. And Emmie’s like family to me mam and dad - to all of us.’

  Flora flushed at his directness. But looking at the anxious faces in the room, she knew that what the outspoken Rab said was true. One look at Emmie’s adoring expression for the handsome miner told her that she could never replace these kindly people in Emmie’s affections. Her idea of playing mother to these girls and moulding them for a great new world of equality was a fantasy. At least for Emmie, that job was Helen MacRae’s.

  ‘Is this true, Emmie?’ she asked quietly.

  Emmie nodded.

  Helen said at once, ‘We’re more than happy to keep the lass, aren’t we, Jonas?’

  Jonas grunted in agreement, still dumbfounded by his son’s brazen defiance of the doctor.

  Nell erupted. ‘But I’m Emmie’s family, not you! You can’t take her away from me! Tell them, Dr Flora, tell them they can’t.’

  ‘Nell, we can’t force Emmie against her will. It wouldn’t be right. She’d only run away again,’ Flora reasoned.

  Nell turned on Emmie in fury. ‘You always want to spoil everything! Don’t you want to be with me?’

  Emmie said in distress, ‘Aye, I do - but I want to stop here. You could live here too, Nelly.’

  ‘In this pigsty?’ Nell was contemptuous. ‘Not if it was the last place on earth.’

  ‘That’s enough, Nell,’ Flora warned. ‘Don’t say anything you’ll regret later.’

  ‘Oh, I’ll not regret it,’ Nell said savagely. ‘She’s the one’ll regret it. Turning her back on a good home and the only real family she’s got.’ She glanced around her in contempt. ‘You’re not her real family - never will be. You’re just common pitmen. Me and Emmie have proper breedin’. Our mother was a proper lady, she was.’

  Flora took hold of Nell and steered her to the door. ‘Come on, Nell, we’re going.’ Pushing her into the street, she turned to the MacRaes. ‘I’m sorry, she’s upset. We all are. Please don’t take offence.’

  ‘No, course not,’ Helen said quickly. The men were speechless at Nell’s outburst.

  Flora gave a strained smile. ‘Goodbye, Emmie. I will keep in touch. If there’s anything you ever want… You can come and visit Nell whenever you feel like it.’

  ‘Thank you, Doctor,’ Helen answered. ‘Jonas will see you down the hill.’

  Jonas was galvanised by his wife’s words and followed the doctor outside. The others listened to their footsteps growing more distant, Nell’s indignant voice fading.

  Emmie peered out of her blanket, wondering what she had done. The boys stared at her, then at each other.

  ‘By heck,’ Sam exclaimed, ‘who would’ve thought a lass your size could cause as much bother?’

  ‘Aye,’ agreed Rab. ‘Should make you lodge official.’

  ‘You’re one to talk,’ snorted his mother.

  They laughed in relief. Helen looked at Emmie huddled in her blanket like a defiant imp.

  ‘Eeh, little pet,’ she cried, ‘give me a hug.’

  Emmie’s skinny arms threw off the blanket and opened wide for Helen’s plump embrace. They squeezed each other tight.

  Emmie mumbled into her warm, floury hold, ‘I love you, Auntie Helen.’

  Helen could not stop the tears that flooded her eyes.

  ‘I love you an’ all, you little troublemaker,’ she laughed. ‘Love you like me own daughter.’

  Later that night, when Emmie was asleep on her truckle bed and Helen lay contented in her husband’s arms, she asked, ‘What’s the name of Major Oliphant’s son?’

  ‘Charles,’ Jonas yawned. ‘Why?’

  ‘Strange,’ Helen mused, ‘there’s a Charles Oliphant works at the Gateshead Settlement. Nell says Dr Jameson’s in love with him.’

  Jonas snorted. ‘Can’t be the same one. The major’s son went into the army, as far as I know. No doubt he’s abroad somewhere, shooting natives.’

  ‘No, that was Liddon, the one who died.’

  ‘Liddon - Charles - what’s the difference?’

  ‘They’re not all as bad as the old man,’ Helen reproved. ‘Miss Sophie came along to one of our Guild meetin’s on women’s suffrage.’

  ‘Spying, no doubt,’ Jonas teased.

  Helen dug him in the ribs, then snuggled into his hold. Jonas chuckled.

  ‘Quiet, or you’ll wake our lass,’ Helen whispered.

  They fell silent, listening to Emmie’s soft breathing. Helen felt the luckiest woman in the world.

  Chapter 6

  1909

  Emmie was late leaving school that chilly spring afternoon. She had stayed on to help Miss Downs prepare lessons for the following day. She loved sharing the teaching, though she knew she was now too old to stay on as a pupil teacher. In a week she would be sixteen. The MacRaes had indulged her long enough; she would have to find a job. She felt a familiar restlessness as she crossed the school yard.

  Louise, already seventeen, was courting twenty-year-old Sam MacRae. They had paired off at the Christmas dance at the Co-operative Hall and now Sam called round at the Currans’ more often than Emmie did.

  ‘It won’t last,’ Jonas predicted. ‘Old man Curran won’t want a heathen for a son-in-law.’

  But Emmie thought he underestimated both Louise’s determination to have Sam, and Sam’s ability to charm the dour Currans. Besides, Sam and Tom had been friends since school and Tom welcomed an ally in the
house. Mr Curran was not above using his belt on his twenty-year-old son, but Louise said he never beat Tom when Sam was present.

  The cottage at China Street had never been quieter. Peter had been found a delivery job with a patient grocer in Blackton and was away long hours. And Rab had gone. Even now, two long years after Rab’s disappearance from Crawdene, Emmie’s insides clenched in familiar distress. She flinched at the memory of the monumental row Rab had had with Jonas. It started when Rab had led an unofficial strike in protest at a friend nearly drowning in a flooded pit gallery. Oliphant’s manager had threatened to evict all the MacRaes.

  ‘What use is a pit house now?’ Rab had accused his father. ‘You’ll always be a boss’s man as long as your job depends on living in his poxy cottage!’

  ‘Don’t you call me a boss’s man.’ Jonas had leaped at his son in fury. Helen and Emmie had tried to break up the fight, but only when Emmie received an elbow in the eye did the men stop, appalled at what they had done. Rab blamed himself. He could not bear to look at Emmie’s bruised face. Two days later, he disappeared and the threat of eviction was dropped.

  Emmie had cried night after night, worried that he had nowhere to go. She felt somehow responsible for his disappearance and refused to be comforted by the others. Helen and Jonas did not speak for days. Only Sam joked about it.

  ‘The bugger will be starting a revolution wherever he is - and writing songs about it.’

  A month later, a letter came from Glasgow. Rab was labouring at the docks and taking night classes in literature and philosophy. He was lodging with three Gaelic-speaking merchant seamen, a boiler-maker’s apprentice and an anarchist.

  A card came at Christmas from a different address, but no longed-for return to his family. Two years on and only a handful of postcards had come, none of them replying to Emmie’s chatty letters; she had to admit that Rab was not coming back.

  Rab. Her heart ached a little when she allowed herself to think of him. Vital, talkative Rab, with his curling dark hair and lively eyes, filling the house with singing and laughter, teasing and debate. She knew Helen missed him as much as she did, but Jonas grew short-tempered if they talked about him too much.