A Family For Christmas

by Linda Finlay

  ‘’Tis only me, little un,’ Duncan said, backing into the shed with a brace of rabbits slung over each shoulder. As the room began swaying around her, he quickly placed them on the shelf and put out his hand to steady her.

  ‘I thought you were a rat,’ she gasped.

  ‘Well, I’d be a pretty large one,’ he chuckled, then saw she was shivering. ‘Come on, let’s get you inside.’ Taking the basket, he led her back towards the hobble where Fay was hovering in the doorway, a worried look on her face.

  ‘What’s going on? I heard a scream.’

  ‘Eliza encountered a rat,’ Duncan said with a chuckle.

  ‘Was it big?’ Fay asked.

  ‘Huge. At least this big,’ he said, putting down the vegetables and extending his hands as far as they’d reach. ‘It had dark eyes and brown curly hair as well.’ As Fay’s eyes widened, he shook his head. ‘That’s how Eliza saw me, anyhow.’

  ‘You made me jump, creeping up like that with those rabbits,’ she protested, feeling stupid for the second time in as many minutes. It was bad enough Fay thinking she was a numpty but she wanted Duncan to think well of her.

  ‘Didn’t know you were scared of rabbits, and there was me thinking you’d welcome a bit of meat for your stew,’ he teased.

  ‘We certainly will,’ Fay said. ‘Well, come on, girl. Don’t just stand there gaping like a tickled trout. Go and fetch some water. I’m parched and bet Duncan here could do with a hot drink, too. Now, there’s something I want to talk to you about …’ she said, turning back to him.

  Eliza picked up the pail, glad of a few moments to compose herself. Outside, she splashed water over her flushed cheeks, almost welcoming its icy sting. She’d show Duncan she wasn’t stupid, but when she returned he was deep in conversation with Fay, their heads bent close together. Seeing her, they lowered their voices but continued their discussion. Angry at being excluded, she sloshed the water into the pot, making the fire hiss and spit.

  ‘Careful, Eliza,’ Fay admonished.

  ‘I was taught it was rude to whisper,’ she answered petulantly.

  ‘It’s also rude to back answer your elders and betters.’

  ‘Sounds like you two have been cooped up together for too long,’ Duncan commented.

  ‘Does that mean you’re staying?’ Eliza asked, hope flaring in her chest.

  He looked at Fay then shook his head. ‘’Fraid not. Things to do,’ he said getting to his feet.

  ‘He didn’t stay long,’ she commented as soon as the door had shut behind him. ‘What did he want, anyway?’ she asked, feeling out of sorts.

  ‘He brought those rabbits, for a start, and some provisions from the farm,’ Fay replied.

  Eliza went over to the table where Duncan had placed fresh milk and eggs but instead of picking them up she stood watching through the window as he made his way down the path. She let out a sigh.

  ‘Duncan’s a free spirit, my dear, and a busy one at that. It would be better if you read a book or found something to interest you, rather than mope around,’ Fay said briskly, giving Eliza a knowing look. Picking up her pad, she resumed her sketching, leaving Eliza alone with her thoughts.

  ‘Happy birthday,’ Fay said, handing Eliza a small parcel. It had been some weeks since Duncan’s last visit and as the weather had improved they’d spent the morning cleaning the hobble. Now they were relaxing with their noon-time drink.

  ‘You remembered,’ Eliza cried. Which was more than her family ever had, she thought with a pang.

  ‘Hard not to with you keep reminding us every five minutes,’ the woman grunted.

  ‘I didn’t …’ she began, then noticed Fay was grinning and realized she was being teased. Eagerly she peeled back the wrapping, then gasped at the picture of a pretty young woman. ‘Why, she’s beautiful.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ Fay replied.

  ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes. Look closely and you will see it’s you. That’s how you looked the night of the Wassail, glowing with happiness.’

  ‘So that’s what you’ve been doing at the table each morning. I wondered what you were painting,’ she said, remembering she’d been forbidden to look.

  Fay nodded. ‘It worries me you have such a low opinion of yourself, Eliza. Your father’s mocking has left a terrible scar, which could fester and mar the rest of your life. That would be a shame, especially as his taunts were unfounded.’

  Eliza stared down at her foot.

  ‘So you’ve a twisted foot. Well, according to you I have prickles and Duncan is a rat, so we each have our cross to bear.’ As Eliza opened her mouth to protest, Fay held up her hand. ‘Every time you look at this picture, I want you to see the lovely warm person Duncan and I perceive you to be.’

  ‘Duncan thinks I’m lovely?’ she asked, looking up. Fay frowned, about to say something but then, as if she’d conjured him up, the door opened and there he was.

  ‘I heard there’s a birthday princess here today,’ he said, giving his disarming grin. ‘My goodness, she’s beautiful,’ he said, pointing to the picture Eliza was still holding. ‘Looks just like you, too. Well done, Fay, that’s a true likeness if ever I saw one.’ He sounded so sincere Eliza stared up at him in surprise.

  ‘I don’t really look like that, do I?’ she whispered.

  ‘Course not, little un,’ he snorted. ‘Let’s see now, if Fay’s a prickly hedgehog and I’m a dark rat, then with that keen sense of smell and reddish brown hair you must surely be a dormouse.’

  Fay looked up sharply. ‘Don’t tease, Duncan. It’s Eliza’s birthday and don’t you have something for her yourself?’

  ‘Ah, yes, I do,’ he said, producing a bunch of brightly coloured crocus from behind his back. ‘Not a drooping pendant in sight,’ he whispered. Eliza stared at the vibrant purple and golden cup-shaped flowers, touched he’d remembered their previous conversation about snowdrops. ‘Rose and Ben send you birthday greetings and this,’ he said handing over a square carton. Peering inside, she saw a beautiful sponge cake with ‘Eliza’ piped in wobbly icing on the top. ‘Needless to say young Rose didn’t make it. Mother Evangaline has her uses, though,’ he said with a wink.

  ‘Pah, she never made that,’ Fay scoffed.

  He laughed. ‘Never said she did, just that she had her uses. One being her contacts at the market in Dulvester. Rose spent ages piping your name on top, little un – sorry, I mean Eliza,’ he corrected, staring at her with those chestnut eyes. Suddenly the room seemed brighter and Eliza didn’t care a tinker’s cuss what he called her.

  ‘Evangaline’s still at the farmhouse then?’ Fay asked. He nodded.

  ‘She’s that besotted with young Joshua, Ben despairs of her ever returning home. Oh, I was forgetting, I have something else for, princess. Close your eyes.’ She heard him scrabble about, then felt something hard placed in her hands. ‘Right you can open them now.’

  She stared down, blinked and stared again. Then she shook her head in disbelief and felt the tears welling.

  ‘It’s Grampy’s box,’ she gasped.

  ‘I found it when that beech bough came down. The snow hadn’t done the wood any favours, but I cleaned it up, then polished it with beeswax and replaced the rusted catch. Your grampy was obviously a skilled man, Eliza, for the box is beautifully crafted. Didn’t think I’d made that bad a job of restoring it, though,’ he said, reaching out and gently wiping her wet cheeks.

  ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she whispered.

  ‘Well, “thank you, Duncan, for all your hard work�
�� would do,’ he teased.

  Smiling through her tears, Eliza opened the lid, then ran her fingers over the emerald silk material that now lined the inside.

  ‘It’s beautiful. Thank you so much,’ she said, leaning over and kissing his cheek, then blushing with embarrassment. He cleared his throat and stared awkwardly back at her.

  ‘There now, you know she’s happy with your present,’ Fay said, her voice sounding loud in the ensuing silence.

  13

  ‘I’ll make some tea to go with that cake,’ Fay added.

  Duncan nodded, then jumped to his feet. ‘Water pail’s almost empty. I’ll go and fill it.’

  Spring must be in the air for she hadn’t felt this warm in ages, Eliza thought, taking her precious laurel leaves from the pages of a flower book that Fay had given her. She smiled at the pressed circlet before carefully placing it in her box.

  ‘There, treasures in my treasure box,’ she said, holding it out for Fay to see.

  ‘Duncan’s made a good job of restoring that, hasn’t he?’ Fay asked.

  ‘Yes, he has, and I’m thrilled. Did you know he’d found it?’

  ‘Yes. That’s what we were discussing the afternoon you got all huffy. To do the restoration justice, he wanted to line it and wondered if I had any suitable material.’

  Remembering her bad mood when she’d felt excluded, Eliza sighed. Hadn’t her grampy warned her about jumping to conclusions?

  ‘Why don’t you cut your cake and we’ll sit at the table and make it a real birthday party?’ Fay said.

  By the time Duncan reappeared Fay had made the tea and as they raised their mugs to toast her, Eliza felt a warm glow of happiness. These two, dear people had come to mean the world to her and for the first time in her life she felt a real sense of belonging. But for how long, she couldn’t help wondering.

  ‘Hmm, tasty cake,’ Duncan said, brushing crumbs from his lips. ‘Not as good as your apple cakes, though. Do you know Eliza can smell the subtle difference between mace and nutmeg?’

  Fay stared at Eliza in amazement then turned to Duncan. ‘Thus the sensitive nose you mentioned.’

  He nodded and helped himself to another slice of cake.

  ‘Apart from laurel leaves, what else do you intend to keep in your box now you’ve got it back, Eliza?’ Fay asked.

  ‘I used to collect wild flowers and keep a specimen of each one in it. But that was before …’ Her voice tailed off.

  ‘And what’s to stop you from doing that again?’ Duncan asked.

  ‘Do you get many flowers this far up the moor?’ she asked.

  To her surprise they both chuckled.

  ‘My dear child, I’ll have you know that when the sun warms the earth, the moors become a veritable riot of colour from the creamy yellow of primroses to the brilliant blues of Germander speedwell. The acid soil is perfect for producing the deep purple erica, pink-mauves of the bog violet, blue-pink heath violets, sun-bright gorse, golden saxifrage, virginal white flowers of the wood sorrel and many others too numerous to mention,’ Fay enthused, her eyes becoming animated as she spoke.

  ‘Spoken like a true artist …’ Duncan said, his voice trailing off as Fay shot him a warning look.

  ‘Then, of course, there are all the flowers in my garden,’ she cut in quickly.

  ‘You grow flowers as well as vegetables?’ Eliza asked.

  ‘And herbs. They all have their uses. I cultivate as much of everything here as I can so we’ll see about putting that fine nose of yours to work,’ she said. As Eliza stared in surprise, Faye got to her feet and started collecting their mugs and plates. ‘I’ll see to these as it’s your birthday. I do believe a watery sun is breaking the clouds. Why don’t you two take a stroll outside? Who knows, you might even spot some early flowers.’

  ‘Why do I get the feeling Fay wanted us out of the way?’ Eliza asked, once they were outside.

  Duncan shrugged. ‘She needs to be on her own sometimes. Memories, you know? She’d kill me for saying it, but she’s not as young as she likes to think.’

  ‘But she was definitely hiding something,’ Eliza persisted, wrapping her shawl tighter around her. Despite the sunshine, the easterly wind was distinctly cool.

  ‘Look, any secrets she has are hers to tell,’ he said enigmatically. ‘Look down there, see the red deer?’ He pointed towards the wood where she could just make out the shapes of animals moving gracefully between the trees. ‘Come on, let’s walk; it’s too chilly to stand around.’

  ‘I’ve never really had time to look at the outside of the hobble house,’ she said, staring back at the old grey stone building with the turfed roof almost reaching the ground. Blue smoke plumed from the chimney at the far end and she could see the damaged beech leaning to one side with a white scar where the bough had broken away. Adjacent was the store where Woody had frightened her with his piercing eyes just days before the cold did for him.

  ‘Is all this land Fay’s?’ Eliza asked as they strolled around the fenced enclosure screened by the hedge bank.

  Duncan nodded. ‘She grows herbs in the higher ground between the hobble and the barn, and her precious flowers in the sun to the front of the building. Come the spring she’ll be spending much of her time here in her beloved garden.’

  ‘It’s hard to believe these high white moors will soon be covered in all those flowers she mentioned,’ said Eliza in amazement. ‘I can’t wait.’

  ‘Once the temperature rises and the thaw sets in properly, you will see everywhere literally blossom overnight. If you want to collect flowers for your box, you couldn’t be in a better place.’

  ‘How wonderful. I love identifying all their distinctive smells. I’m so happy to have Grampy’s box back. It makes me feel close to him again. You’ve made it look beautiful and I really appreciate all your hard work.’

  ‘My pleasure. A beautiful box for a beautiful young woman. Now, we’d better go inside again, little un. It’s no good you getting cold,’ he said, noticing Eliza’s pink cheeks.

  ‘Why do you still call me “little un”, even though I’m fifteen now?’ she asked, pouting up at him.

  ‘Happen ’tis safer that way,’ he muttered. ‘Come on, Fay will be wondering where we’ve got to.’ He turned and hurried back indoors, leaving her to follow.

  In the weeks that followed, as the sun climbed higher and the temperature rose, Eliza pondered on Duncan’s words. Why was it safer him calling her ‘little un’? She hadn’t seen him since her birthday and found herself wandering aimlessly around the hobble, unable to settle yet not sure why. Fay became impatient, urging her again to find something to occupy her time. She pored over the little book of flowers in which she’d pressed her laurel leaves but found her concentration wandering. In the end she gave up and used it to press one of the golden crocus heads Duncan had given her, lovingly placing it in her box alongside the laurel.

  Then, one morning Eliza was woken by the sound of gushing water.

  ‘What’s that noise?’ she asked Fay.

  ‘Thaw’s begun. Doesn’t mean we’re out of the woods yet but it’s a sure sign spring is on its way, and to celebrate I shall take the old sketchbook out for an airing. My ankle could do with some exercise to strengthen it.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you have your wrist bound, though?’ Eliza asked as the woman picked up her things.

  ‘It doesn’t hurt half as much as it did and I’m mighty relieved not to have it strapped up any more. Why don’t you take yourself off and search for wild flowers? It’s a bit early but there’s bound to be something yo
u can bring back for that box of yours. It’ll do you good to get outside and you can walk off some of that pent-up energy.’

  Eliza’s heart lifted at the thought of searching for flowers. Who knew what she would find?

  ‘I’ll tidy up in here and then go out,’ she replied, but Fay shook her head.

  ‘Don’t waste this good weather. Sun’s fickle this time of year and could be gone by noon. Time enough for tidying up then.’

  The brisk March wind tugged at Eliza’s hair and stung her ears but, happy to be outside, she hardly noticed. Pausing by the vegetable plot, she saw the green tops of leeks and winter cabbages were now visible through the snow melt. Spring really was on its way at last.

  Wandering out of the enclosure she felt a delicious sense of freedom. All around, the buds on trees and bushes were showing the first signs of swelling and the smell of freshly ploughed ground carried towards her on the breeze. Peering down the valley, she wondered how Rose was getting on.

  But her thoughts were distracted by a swathe of daffodils in the shelter of a hedge bank. With their golden heads bobbing and swaying on slim green legs it looked as if they were dancing their way across the moorland. Laughing at her foolish thoughts, she was just about to continue her journey when a strange noise rooted her to the spot.

  Seemingly out of nowhere came a tremendous thundering, shaking the ground around her. It was louder than any noise she’d ever heard at the mine and it was getting nearer. Instinctively, she took shelter behind a tree, then watched wide-eyed as a huddle of horses galloped past. There must have been sixteen or eighteen of the magnificent beasts and they were so close she could hear them panting, their breath rising from flaring nostrils like steam in the cold air. The scarlet-jacketed riders, sporting black hats above flushed faces, urged them faster, sending black mud flying in all directions. Eliza shrank further into the shadows as the cavalcade thrummed by, inches from where she was standing. Then, as quickly as they’d appeared, they were gone, the drumming of their hooves receding until all she could hear was the beating of her heart.