The Cold Blast

by Mary Easson

  I declined Mrs Birse’s offer of refreshment – she could see how moved I was – and I bid her farewell offering to visit the doctor on behalf of the families. I walked away from the Rows in a daze, a fire slowly kindling inside of me. I thought about my scullery maid who was brought up in the Rows. She was hardworking, helpful, and happy. Then I remembered the comfortable women with whom I’d sat down to luncheon earlier and I wondered if they had even the slightest inkling of what lay beyond the boundary walls of the Rashiepark estate where a dozen servants kept them in a style to which they had become accustomed.

  Everything was in order on my return to the manse. The kitchen was spotless and the tea tray had been set for later in the afternoon. The clock on the wall ticked away the seconds and the minutes, whilst the coals settled in the range. I remember how bright the colours seemed in the manse compared to the cottages I’d visited and I thanked God for my good fortune.

  Sarah had been waiting for me to come home. The look on her face suggested all was not well – Richard had wanted to see me. Apparently, he had been into the kitchen several times and appeared quite agitated so I ventured into the hall immediately and stared at the closed door of the study, composing myself. An all-out confrontation with him was not for the feint hearted. In all likelihood, he had spent hours, perhaps days, preparing his latest argument against me. I soon found out that Constable Mackay had been speaking to him with my best interests in mind.

  ‘If you didn’t go gallivanting around the countryside with Euphemia Melville you wouldn’t find yourself in such precarious circumstances, Elizabeth.’ His voice was scolding, censorious, and superior though that was nothing new.

  ‘I was not in any difficulty, Richard,’ I retorted, recalling my recent journey home in Phee’s car from Whinbank. ‘We found the road blocked by workmen at the end of the early shift. I expect they had important matters to discuss and didn’t realise they were blocking the road. They soon moved on.’

  ‘That’s not what Constable MacKay tells me. Had he not arrived precisely when he did, God only knows what might have happened! I shudder to think!’ He was shouting uncontrollably. Sarah must have been wondering what on earth was going on.

  ‘There was no problem whatsoever, Richard. The men moved on as soon as they realised they were blocking our way.’ I remembered the small menacing group that had surrounded the vehicle but dismissed the thought immediately. I was not about to discuss the point with someone who wasn’t prepared to listen.

  ‘Constable MacKay thinks otherwise and I’m inclined to believe him more than you, Elizabeth. You did not even think to tell me of the incident.’ He sounded wounded, like a petulant child denied a secret.

  ‘I didn’t tell you because it was unimportant and of no consequence. AND because of your present reaction! Why should I invite such a response from you, if I can avoid it by not telling you?’ I could not help but raise my voice at him. He could be so exasperating at times.

  ‘Remember that your behaviour reflects on my position as a minister of the church. I cannot gain their respect if I have a harlot, who is my sister, living in the manse!’

  I gasped in disbelief. Where did such a remark come from and where on earth was he going with this line of thought? Was that how he viewed all women? The Reverend was well-known for the strictness of his sermons, full of fire and fury at the temptations of the flesh.

  ‘Your concern in this is not for me and my welfare as you pretend,’ I began when I’d gathered my thoughts, ‘It is for the scandal that might erupt from some imagined outcome of the incident in question. Your imagination has been sparked by the wild fancies of the local constabulary who are on tenterhooks at the possibility of some future confrontation with the miners, in the dispute over their pay and conditions.’

  ‘My concern is for you, of course, my dear. Your well-being is uppermost in my mind at all times, though you refuse to believe it. You are naive when it comes to people and misunderstand their motives, Elizabeth. They are not all as good-hearted as yourself.’ He sounded extremely patronising.

  ‘The people of Stoneyrigg are good people, in the main, Richard. Many do not come to your church but they have their reasons for that, I’m sure. They only want reasonable recompense for the hard work they do... and a decent home... to bring up their children in good health.’ Images of life in the Rows flooded my mind. My visit with Highland Mary had left its mark.

  ‘And you know the Stoneyrigg people very well, do you?’ A sly smile crept over his face. ‘I am not happy with your foray into the Rows, Elizabeth. I forbid it in future.’

  How could he have known that I had only just returned from the Rows? My first and only visit! The knowledge that he might know my every move gripped like a vice around my chest.

  ‘You cannot forbid it!’ My voice was raised just as my brother intended. ‘I visited in connection with my position as chairwoman of the Ladies Committee, of the District Nursing Association.’

  ‘You are only required to oversee the work of the nurse IN COMMITTEE. You do not have to supervise her when she is actually making visits to her patients!’

  ‘I know that, Richard. But it would be useful to know what the problems actually are. And by attending with her occasionally. Thereby, ways might be found of extending nursing services to all, not only those who can afford them or those employers pay on their behalf. In future, I hope to visit one or two of those in need of support. I will take my turn with the other women. Today I met Mrs Pow who forgets that her grandson was killed in the pit and still wanders down to the pit head looking for him. I could sit with her or take her for short walks and help with her toilet. It will be a great help to Mrs Duncan, who has opened up her home to the Pows to save them from the Combination Poorhouse.’

  ‘And that’s exactly where they should be,’ he retorted. ‘The ratepayers have made perfectly adequate provision for them. In the Poorhouse!’ He stopped and looked at me, his younger sister and only sibling, who riled him so. ‘I forbid you to go anywhere near the Stoneyrigg Rows in future. Or Whinbank for that matter.’ He folded his arms and turned his back.

  ‘You are forbidding me from doing good works? Forbidding me from visiting the sick and the elderly in need? And even Mrs Maclean? You do not wish me to visit Murdo’s widow in her hour of greatest need and loneliness?’

  He turned on me with fury in his eyes. ‘Do not pretend that you go visiting Mrs Maclean when you go to Whinbank!’ His voice was harsh. ‘You go running after Donald Maclean while you only pretend to be doing good works. You don’t fool me, Elizabeth Fraser. A leopard never changes its spots!’

  ‘And would you be so good as to explain what is in your mind when you make that remark?’ Though I knew perfectly well.

  ‘You know what is in my mind, sister. The scandal of you and that... that workman has only just died down. And now you go chasing another... openly... flagrantly... for everyone to see. You are without shame.’

  ‘How cruel you are,’ I said at last, trying to keep my voice even. ‘You have a mind like a cesspit and call yourself a man of God.’

  We became aware that Sarah had been knocking at the study door, perhaps for some time, and I prayed she hadn’t heard too much. The girl hurried away as soon as I appeared, leaving a visitor in our care.

  ‘Good afternoon, Ernest,’ I said cordially. ‘Richard is expecting you. Do come in and I’ll bring some tea.’

  ‘Don’t rush away just yet, Miss Fraser,’ urged the schoolmaster who looked with concern at the two of us in turn. ‘I’ve only this moment been appraised of some disconcerting news.’

  I called out to Sarah, asking if she would mind preparing the tea. The tray was already set and she could go home immediately afterwards. It seemed a good idea to have the house to ourselves in case our tempers flared again, after Mr Black had gone.

  Ernest closed the study door whilst Richard and I waited, wondering what wa
s afoot.

  ‘There’s been some trouble along at Parkgate House, by all accounts,’ he began. ‘The factor, Roger Stone’s been seriously injured in a fall.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ said Richard. ‘What happened?’ Ernest Black’s demeanour suggested there was more to come.

  ‘He went off this afternoon on horseback, heading through the woods to the fishing station on the loch. A trip wire had been set up across the path to the higher land, on the edge of the wood. The horse went down and rolled onto poor Roger.’

  I asked if he had been badly injured.

  ‘Fairly. Broken ribs, a fractured collar bone, and extensive bruising. But he came off better than the horse which had to be put down. Broken leg I’m afraid.’

  ‘How awful,’ I said, shocked that such a thing could have happened at Parkgate. And only a short while after my visit earlier in the day when everything had seemed calm and ordered.

  ‘Such dreadful news.’

  ‘A trip wire, you say?’ asked Richard.

  ‘Mmm. Set up deliberately to catch whosoever was going that way on Rashiepark business, it would seem. But that’s not the end of it.’ Ernest looked at us both in turn. ‘Another had been set up at the gates to Parkgate House and caught the doctor unawares. When he arrived to see to the patient, he drove straight into it.’

  ‘Is he alright?’ I gasped.

  ‘He’s fine. By good fortune, the wire gave way on one side when his car drove through.’

  ‘Thank God,’ Richard declared. ‘He could’ve been...’ Unable to say the words, he held his throat with two hands, swallowing hard.

  ‘But who would do such a dreadful thing?’ I asked.

  ‘Who indeed?’ My brother glared back at me as if he already knew where the authorities might start looking for the culprit.

  Chapter 9

  Elizabeth

  I was in two minds about accepting Phee’s offer to join her family for dinner on the evening of the Gala Day but I decided that the tripwire incident had probably left the family shaken, and that I should show my support by accepting their invitation. Similarly, when she suggested that another visit to Whinbank was due, I agreed to accompany her in spite of Richard’s protestations. As we whizzed along in the Albion 16, Phee described the mood at the house, and it did not sound cheerful. Catherine had been confiding in her how much she missed David and, although she appreciated how important his role in the Army Reserves was, all she wanted was for him to return and spend some time with her before the birth of their child. Phee reckoned that Catherine had been especially upset by events and who could blame her? Over the noise of the engine and the rumble of the wheels on the road I shouted back that I could understand how Catherine must be feeling.

  Phee described how everyone at Parkgate was interviewed by the local constabulary whilst the grounds were searched for evidence. Officers studied the tripwires, showing particular interest in the choice of materials and the method of attachment of the wire, and looking for any possible clues that might have been left behind unwittingly by the perpetrators. At the front of the house there was much pointing of fingers back and forth along the main road that led from the house to the mining villages located east and west. When the stone wall into the field on the far side of the road was inspected, a section where stones had tumbled forward onto the grassy verge drew interest. So that was how they had approached the house, Constable Mackay decided. They must have crept along, under the cover of the hedgerow, all the way up from the burn at the bottom of the hill, in the still of the night.

  Phee brought the vehicle to a halt by the roadside, about a mile from Whinbank. Normally so confident and headstrong, she admitted that she was as relieved as Catherine when Mr Imrie appeared that evening for dinner. Isabelle greeted him with the same affection she might lavish on a much-loved uncle bringing him a glass of his favourite sherry as he settled himself into a chair, concern all over his fifty-year-old face. He listened intently to Catherine’s resumé of the situation, beginning with a description of Roger Stone’s condition. Though his injuries were bad enough, he was fortunate not to have been more seriously hurt. He had lain still, unable to move, but knowing that if he tried to roll over, a lung might have been pierced by his damaged ribs. Indeed, he could have lain undetected for long enough had the gillie not decided to go up to the loch, a day earlier than he intended. Roger, she explained further, was now comfortable in one of the beds upstairs, where he would remain until he was much improved, the doctor was satisfied that the injuries to his collar bone and ribs were healed, and there were no complications. Catherine had been unable to contemplate the patient all alone in his estate cottage without anyone to care for him and, as Isabelle had been quick to point out, there was always the possibility that the motive for the attack was personal, towards the factor himself, so he was probably safer at Parkgate. The police were given a list of employees, past and present, and would no doubt question Roger about the matter later when he was well enough to speak to them. Phee said that, according to the police, the attack could have been directed at Roger Stone personally. In fact, it could have been aimed at anyone involved in estate matters, and might have been concerned with causing harm to members of the Melville family directly.

  ‘Bear in mind our recent encounter with the local riff-raff,’ she reminded me.

  In her opinion, the fact that a second trip wire had been constructed across the main entrance to the house was surely proof that the perpetrators were out to hurt the family. It was only by great good fortune that she had decided to postpone a visit to a friend in Torphichen, planned for that very morning. Otherwise, she would have been the first person to drive through the gates and not, as it transpired, the good doctor coming to treat poor Roger. In fact, when she thought about it, she often went riding through the woods and up to the loch. Someone could have seen her in the past. Perhaps it should have been her lying injured upstairs and not the factor. She confessed to being very upset at that day’s events, even when Catherine explained that the constabulary were sending a constable round later to patrol the grounds overnight. They were bound to find the perpetrator soon, said Catherine, and Phee was much too loveable to have been the target.

  ‘But after we were held up by those ruffians, Elizabeth, how can I be sure?’

  Sitting beside me, she looked so vulnerable in her ridiculous goggles. Phee shook her head vigorously as if shaking off her fears and she apologised for her over-reaction. ‘Anyway,’ she continued, ‘Mr Imrie sounded confident the constabulary would have things in hand. As soon as he had returned to Rowanhill after dinner, he would organise a man or two to assist the police during the hours of darkness. Parkgate’s a big house and we can’t be too careful.’

  ‘Has the constabulary come up with anything new?’ I asked tentatively.

  Phee almost sniggered – which I was very glad of but it left me intrigued. ‘One thing they’ve ruled out right from the start, apparently, is the possibility that it’s linked with Suffragette activity!’

  Such a thought hadn’t crossed my mind in the least though there had been incidents across the county in recent months. ‘Glad to hear it! But if your telephone wires are cut, you’ll know who it is straight away!’ I giggled.

  Phee became serious again. ‘Constable Mackay has shown Mr Imrie the wire used in the crime. It’s the kind used at the mines operated by the Coal Company but it’s a common enough type. However, the stores at all the local pits are to be inspected and he’ll report to the police if there are any signs of a break-in or loss of stock.’

  ‘Do they think this affair could be linked to the present dispute between the men and the coal masters?’ I asked, knowing that feelings were running high. ‘The men seem determined to have their way.’

  ‘That’s exactly what Isabelle thinks... some might see a direct attack on the owners of Back o’ Moss Pit as legitimate activity in accomplishing their ends. Such
is the warped logic of undisciplined minds! …according to my dear sister.’

  She continued, ‘Mr Imrie agreed that there are individuals who see such behaviour as justified but they’re few and far between. As far as the dispute is concerned, he thinks most of the workforce will see reason, given time. The pit owners have to get costs down if those same pits that provide work for the men are going to survive in the current climate. The market for coal is low presently, hence prices are low. Wages have to come down in line with prices. That’s how pay’s been determined in the mines for long enough. Low prices... low pay. The owners have been hit hard with extra costs resulting from new laws... the Insurance Act and the Mines Act... and they’ve got to set capital aside for future investment. Am I making sense, Beth? Are you still with me?’

  I nodded, impressed by how much detail Phee had remembered. Her interests didn’t normally extend to industrial matters, as far as I was aware.

  ‘I pointed out that everyone needs coal,’ she went on. ‘Surely we can’t get enough of it, both here and abroad? Why is the market so low? Charles agreed that coal fuels the economy, nothing’s truer, but when supply is greater than demand, the price comes down. You see the home market is depressed at the moment. Iron and steel output is reduced and Germany is undercutting us left, right, and centre. Then Catherine explained that our export market is reduced too. Scottish companies have lost some big contracts recently to Westphalian coal.’