Fields of Blue Flax

by Sue Lawrence

  The driver leapt down, creaked the manse gate open and ran along the path to the back door, which was ajar. Soon a figure wrapped in a large shawl emerged and walked silently down the path.

  ‘Here, hand the wee one tae me, Miss Charlotte, while you get down by the loupin’-on-stane here.’ Cookie pointed to the set of five stone steps built beside the wall for easy dismounting from horse or carriage. There was another at the other side of the manse, by the gate to the churchyard.

  Charlotte handed the swaddled baby down to Cookie then descended the steps and stood gazing at the manse. This had been her home since she was born but for the past few months she had lived at Corrie with her beautiful child. But now her father needed her back at home. He had decreed it was not fitting that a minister should live there without a lady and since he now had no wife, his daughter would have to suffice.

  She looked down the road and considered what she was about to do, something that would pain her more than childbirth itself. She shuddered as she peered through the morning haze.

  ‘Shall I tak’ your bag intae the manse, Miss Charlotte?’

  ‘Thank you, Grieve, that would be kind. Cookie and I will be back presently.’

  Charlotte stretched her arms out for her baby, then snuggled the bundle close to her breast. ‘She’s sleeping, Cookie. I fed her before we left. Are you sure Mrs Barrie has enough milk for two babies?’

  They walked along the road past the little village houses, some with faint lights from early morning candles. ‘Margaret Barrie has such a bosom on her, Miss Charlotte, she could nurse a’ the bairns in Angus. That wee one o’ hers is a skinny wee soul, so she’s plenty milk left for your baby.’

  Charlotte began to sniffle. ‘I cannot imagine how life will be without her, not yet four months old but such a joy. How will I find the strength to endure each day?’

  ‘I’m sure that, wi’ a bit o’ time, he’ll let you see her. I mean they’re just doon the road and…’

  Charlotte stopped walking, and brushed her fingertips across her daughter’s plump cheek. ‘He will not. The shame of everyone talking about it would be too much. He has said I am to be confined to the manse, penance for the disgrace I have caused, and for bringing about my mother’s demise. If I am allowed out, it will be to the garden or along the path to the church. He said he needs me at home now Mother is gone, but truly, I believe he wants to keep me a prisoner.’

  ‘You mustnae think like that, Miss. And you didnae cause your poor mother’s death. She was always a wee bit poorly and prone to a’ sorts. He said it was the shock that did it, but I’m sure it was just her time.’

  ‘Cookie, she was only fifty-seven years old. If you had seen her face when she looked at Elizabeth that day, you’d know I caused her death.’ Charlotte looked up at the sky, which was beginning to brighten. ‘And so I must now atone for my transgressions. It is God’s will.’

  They came to a halt outside a house that had a wisp of smoke emerging from the low chimney.

  Charlotte bit her lips as Cookie rapped on the door.

  ‘He won’t be here, will he?’ Charlotte whispered, panic in her voice.

  Cookie shook her head. ‘The men have already a’ gone tae the fields’, she said then nodded as Margaret Barrie opened the door. She stood in a ragged brown dress on the doorstep and for a moment did not move. She eyed Charlotte up and down, assessing how she had changed in the past months. Still tall and slender by the looks of her but less well kempt, her frock was a little ragged around the hem, and her eyes were red-rimmed and weary.

  ‘I willnae ask you in, wee Jane’s still sound asleep.’

  ‘Is the cot big enough for two babies?’

  Margaret glowered at her. ‘Aye, plenty big. And there’s certainly nae problems wi’ feeding the both o’ them.’ She paused to press a forearm across her large breasts and squirmed. ‘I’ve tae much milk, they’re sore a’ the time.’

  Charlotte nodded and looked down at Elizabeth, who was still sleeping, her long black lashes throwing a slight shadow across her perfect skin. She planted a kiss on her nose, before Cookie gently reached forward to take her baby away. Charlotte screwed up her eyes as if in physical pain as Margaret snatched the baby from Cookie. ‘She’s heavier than Jane but maybe my Janie’ll overtake this one soon.’

  She turned to go back inside.

  Charlotte leant forward, trying to see where her child was to live. ‘Mrs Barrie, you’ll let us know if there’s anything you need?’

  ‘I’ll let Elspeth ken if there’s anything.’ She nodded gravely at both women and shut the door behind her.

  Charlotte’s legs buckled and she collapsed onto Cookie’s shoulder. The older woman put an arm round her and walked her along the road. ‘There, there, it’ll be fine, Miss Charlotte. Margaret’s no’ a bad woman, just a simple country wifie. The wee one’ll be fine. At least she’s just doon the road – mind the other option was for her to gang far away and you’d never see her ever again. It’s for the best. Now let’s get you home and straight tae yer bed.’

  Charlotte’s sniffles were now sobs, uncontrollable gasps that wracked her whole body as she leant against Cookie’s shoulders.

  They shambled along the road to the manse where a dim light emerged from the study. As the gate scraped open, a curtain was drawn a fraction and the women saw a black figure peering out, eyes blazing in a haunting pale face.

  Chapter Thirty-three

  2014

  Lottie stumbled into the car park outside her dad’s dental practice and pulled out her phone. She typed out a quick text, asking him to meet her at the pub next door when he finished. It was an abrupt message, ‘Meet for drink at five, pub next door.’ No kisses. She knew he would do as she asked.

  Now she had an hour to kill, but she couldn’t go home, to her parents’ house, until she had seen him. She couldn’t face her mum and pretend everything was normal. She felt dazed.

  Lottie decided she would wait in the pub and have a drink while waiting for him, to try and calm her nerves.

  Mags had texted Christine earlier asking her to call if she had a minute during her lunch break. In the middle of unloading the dishwasher, her phone rang.

  ‘Is everything all right?’ asked Christine.

  ‘Yeah, I just wanted to run something past you.’

  ‘Fire away.’

  ‘I’m a bit worried. You know I’ve mentioned before how stressed Doug is? Well, there have been other signs, I won’t go into them now but, the thing is… God, I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I think he’s having – or has had – an affair.’

  Silence.

  ‘Did you hear me?’

  ‘Yes, sorry, a P2 boy’s just tripped and fallen headlong, but Eileen’s there. So, why do you reckon he might be?’

  ‘He’s unbelievably grumpy and distant, and has been for ages now – Lottie’s noticed it too – and, well, he doesn’t seem to fancy me any more, he’s barely touched me in weeks. I don’t know what to do.’

  Silence.

  ‘Do you know something, Chris? Has Gerry said something?’ Mags’s voice was urgent.

  ‘Heavens no, sorry. No, listen, I think he’s maybe just going through some kind of weird midlife crisis. I mean, I thought Gerry was having an affair with his cleaning lady, Angie, till I realised she’s about ninety and the size of a house.’ There was forced laughter. ‘I think we’re all just too stressed at work. I know I am.’

  ‘Yeah, well I wish I was stressed at work too but I’ve got hardly any to do these days.’

  ‘Mags, you are so talented, that big cake contract will come your way. Just wait!’

  ‘Hmm. Maybe I just have too much time on my hands right now, and I’m overthinking everything.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s all it is.’

  ‘Yeah. Doug wouldn’t stray, would he?’

  Silence.

  ‘Are you still there?’

  ‘Yes. Sorry, Mags, I’ve got to go, but no, I think he’s fine. The me
n just need a bit of space to work through their midlife crises. He’ll be back to normal soon, you’ll see.’

  Mags came off the phone and went to the back door to get some fresh air. She opened it wide and stood on the step listening to a harsh squawking noise. She looked towards the pair of apple trees in the garden where two large crows were cawing menacingly at each other.

  Doug wove his way through the tables towards the bar, acknowledging fellow drinkers with nods or quick exchanges of pleasantries. It was like watching a celebrity negotiate the paparazzi on the red carpet, such was the adulation for her handsome father from the locals.

  ‘What can I get you, Lotts?’

  She looked up at him, taking in the thick mop of hair, greying at the sides, the heavy, dark eyebrows. And those eyes.

  ‘I’ll have another wine,’ said Lottie, pushing away her empty glass. ‘Red.’

  Lottie watched her father banter with the barman as he pulled a pint. Doug brought the glass to his lips and sipped through the foam, waiting as the barman poured Lottie’s large glass of red.

  ‘Cheers!’ he said, sitting down and raising his glass to her. ‘So, tell me more about your weekend. You said the doctor’s given them the all-clear. Is Jack a hundred per cent now?’

  Lottie sipped from her glass of wine then put it back on the beer mat. ‘Yup, fully fit, they’re both well.’ She brought her chair closer to the table and looked directly at Doug. ‘Anyway, I’d started to tell you about Katie and the genetics project. I’d told her I thought a couple with blue eyes can’t have a child with a different eye colour.’

  Doug took a long draught of beer. ‘Like I said, Lotts, it’s a complete myth. Put that girl straight before she gets marked down. It’s not common, but it’s certainly possible for two blue-eyed parents to have a brown-eyed baby. Something to do with the blue gene being a broken one.’

  Doug swigged from his glass and glanced over at Lottie, whose features were set rigid.

  ‘Dad,’ She leaned in so she was just inches from his face, ‘whether that genetics thing is true or not, I want you to answer me straight. Is Jack your son?’

  He stared at her for a moment too long then laughed, a little too loudly. ‘What? Whatever makes you think that?’

  She said nothing, and kept staring at his eyes. He looked away and downed his pint.

  ‘Want another one, Lotts?’

  ‘No. I want you to answer my questions truthfully, or…’

  ‘How’s it going, mate?’ A hearty clap on Doug’s back. ‘Not seen you for ages.’

  ‘Bill, how’re you doing? This is my daughter Lottie. Want to join us?’

  Bill stretched out his hand to Lottie. She shook it and said, ‘Sorry Bill, nice to meet you but we’re having a kind of planning meeting, a secret family thing.’

  ‘No worries. See you later, mate.’

  Doug stretched his neck from side to side, still avoiding his daughter’s gaze.

  ‘Dad, you can do all you want to get off the subject, do your physio in the middle of the pub if you like, but I’m not moving from here until you tell me the truth.’

  Doug opened his mouth then put up his finger. He turned to Bill at the bar and shouted, ‘Bill, get me a pint, mate, would you?’

  Bill nodded. Lottie and Doug were silent, Lottie finishing her wine while staring at her father, Doug clapping his hands together silently as if trying to get warm. Bill delivered the beer and left.

  ‘Well?’ said Lottie. ‘Is Jack your son?’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous.’

  ‘The letter in the piano was definitely your writing. I looked in my old photo album and saw Grandpa’s writing – it’s nothing like yours. And Jack’s eyes… Dad, they’re just like yours.’ She strummed her fingers on the table.

  ‘Eyes can be similar, of course they can.’ Doug looked down at the table. ‘Christ, Lottie, how many glasses have you had? You’re becoming like your mother, drinking too much. Talking nonsense.’

  Lottie leant forward again and spoke in a low voice. ‘If you don’t tell me the truth, Dad, I’m going to tell Mum about my suspicions.’

  ‘Don’t. Please, Lotts, don’t mention a thing to Mum.’

  ‘Why not? If it’s not true then there’s nothing to worry about.’

  Doug put his pint down with a thud. ‘You can’t. Please. It’s not as simple as that. The truth is… It’s not what you think. It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t an affair, it wasn’t.’

  ‘What the fuck do you mean?’

  ‘What I mean is, it was all an accident, she ensnared me, it was a trap and it should never have happened.’

  Lottie’s eyes opened wide. ‘Who’s she? Auntie Chris?’

  ‘Obviously. She’s his fucking mother.’ He took a long drink and set down his glass again. His hand was shaking.

  ‘So it’s true. That note at the back of the piano was from you to Auntie Chris?’

  His shoulders slumped. ‘Yes, I’d forgotten all about it. God knows how it ended up in there, I must have been trying to hide it. But you can see by what I wrote that the whole incident meant nothing. I never loved her. I love your mum, I always have. Always will.’

  He shut his eyes and leant back. Lottie said nothing so he opened them and whispered, ‘Please don’t tell her.’

  ‘Give me one good reason why I should be on your side! You’ve kept this secret for all these years. And doesn’t Jack have a right to know?’ She gasped. ‘That’s why you were so emotional when he had the accident, wasn’t it? I can’t believe this.’

  ‘Please. Just don’t tell Mum. Please. I’m begging you, I’ll do anything, Lotts.’ He bit his lip.

  Lottie stood up and picked up her glass. ‘If this still had wine in it, I’d fling it in your face. You are nothing but a fucking liar. I hate you.’

  She stormed towards the door and Doug strode after her. ‘Lotts, please, please don’t tell Mum,’ he whispered. ‘Give me time, I’ll explain it all to you.’

  She wrenched the door open, refusing to look back at him as she strode out.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  4th June 1860

  Maud Whyte emerged from the dim courtroom into broad daylight and blinked. She stretched out an arm to lean against the solid granite wall of Forfar Sheriff Court. She was trying to control her breathing, as the doctor had told her to do so often, to slow her racing heart.

  ‘My dear, shall you sit down to recover?’

  ‘I cannot sit down in the middle of Forfar High Street, Charles!’ she muttered to her husband.

  ‘I shall ask Grieve to fetch the carriage and you may sit there until the proceedings end.’ He raised a slender hand upwards and pointed one bony finger heavenward to beckon the driver.

  ‘I will be back presently.’ The Reverend Whyte turned and re-entered the court, his long black frock coat swinging wide behind him.

  ‘Madam, will you sit up here awhile?’ Grieve extended his hand to Mrs Whyte and gestured to the loupin’-on-stane. With his help, she managed to ascend and soon she sat back in the carriage, her powder blue dress gathered around her and her dark bonnet perched on top of her tight grey bun. She continued repeating the breathing exercises Doctor Macleod had taught her.

  She really ought not to have come. Charles had tried to forbid it but she insisted, even though she knew her health was not up to it. But he was forever controlling her and she decided that, for once, she would do as she herself wished and would attend, for the sake of her daughter. Even though she was permitted no contact with Charlotte, she could at least be there in the court for her. Maud felt a sudden sweat envelop her face and she rummaged in her bag for her smelling salts.

  ‘Is there anything I can get you, Mrs Whyte?’

  ‘Nothing, thank you, Grieve,’ she whispered, her voice as feeble as her body. She took out her fan and attempted to cool her face. When she shut her eyes, the frightful scenes she had just witnessed inside the court room loomed up once more.

  She still did not unde
rstand why her husband had insisted on the paternity suit. The ignominy and shame of the whole situation had been bad enough, why he had demanded that David Barrie be named as the father on a legal document was beyond her comprehension. It was mystifying, but no one, not even his wife, dared to question his decisions.

  Charles had always asserted his authority over her in everything, from what she was permitted to wear to whom she could invite to the manse for tea. And with her fragile health, it was simply too much to cause discord by attempting to disagree with him.

  She was still surprised that he had consented so readily to her suggestion that she accompany him this morning to Forfar and to the court. But as she sat there in the carriage, eyes still tight shut, heart pounding, she contemplated the prudence of her action.

  A noise from the courtroom entrance made her open her grey eyes and turn round. Her heart seemed to race faster, if that was at all possible. It was Charlotte, alone, about to cross the road towards a woman standing with a bundle in her arms. That must be the child! She watched as her daughter rushed to the woman and swept the baby into her arms.

  Could she do this? Before he came back out from the court room, would she be able to see her grandchild, even though it was strictly forbidden? He would never forgive her, but there was surely time…

  ‘Grieve! Go and fetch Miss Charlotte. At once!’

  Grieve nodded, jumped down from the carriage and sped over the road to speak to her. Maud saw Charlotte’s bewildered expression, but she followed Grieve and came to stand by the carriage. The baby was snuggled in tight to her chest. Maud took in her daughter’s face, her slate eyes lacklustre and her hair bedraggled. She reached out her hand and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear underneath her bonnet.

  ‘Mother, how are you?’ The concern in her voice conveyed to Maud how dreadful she must look.

  ‘I am not well, Charlotte, but I had to come. Let me see the child. Please, before your father arrives.’

  Charlotte glanced round to the courtroom entrance then turned the baby round to face Maud.