Authors: Gwen Kirkwood
‘
I suppose he visits his father when he has any spare time. He was ploughing another field ready to sow some turnips for next winter and his young chicks were being delivered the day after we were there last time.’
‘
Yes, I expect he keeps busy with only one pair of hands. Your father says he’s thinking of getting a few feeding sheep to eat off his spare grass during the summer, until he gets his cow numbers built up and some young heifers to rear.’
Megan
knew this was all true but in her heart she had hoped he would visit too. She was sure he thought of her in a different light since the night of the dance. She went with her father to finish off the garden and Steven was as welcoming as ever to both of them but there was no doubt he had plenty to keep him busy.
‘
Come and see my sow, Megan,’ he said just before they were ready to leave. ‘I call her Ella. She’s due to farrow in three weeks.’ Shandy went with them and Megan bent to pat his silky head.
‘
This wee dog worships you, Steven. He never lets you out of his sight.’
‘
I know, I have a job getting away on the motor bike without him. I have to shut him in the house and sometimes he’s a bit naughty. He chewed my slipper and a towel and takes bits out of the chair legs.’
‘
I expect he’s lonely without you.’
‘
I’d certainly be lonely without you, wouldn’t I Shandy, old boy.’ He bent down and hugged the little dog and Shandy responded with eager licking at his hands and face. ‘Now you lie down and wait there while we see Ella.’ Shandy did exactly as he was bid and Megan laughed with delight.
They
went into the sty together and Ella allowed Steven to scratch her back. She grunted approvingly and he began to scratch her belly. She lay down and stretched out contentedly. Megan bent down beside him giving the sow a gentle scratch. ‘She loves this.’
‘
Yes, I want her to be tame and quiet. Hopefully she’ll make a better mother when the piglets are born. Are your feet quite better now?’ he asked unexpectedly and Megan cursed herself for blushing so readily.
‘
Yes, of course. They didn’t take long to heal.’
‘
I suppose I should stop writing letters to you now you have a boyfriend up there.’ It was not a question and Megan frowned and didn’t answer immediately.
‘
I don’t have a boyfriend,’ she said carefully, ‘but you can stop writing the letters if you’re too busy, or if you’re fed up with writing,’ she added stiffly.
‘
The way Maryanne and her brother talked it sounded to me as though you have a serious relationship with someone.’
‘
He was giving me driving lessons. I’ve helped his sister a lot with her course work. I thought he was sort of repaying me I suppose b-but he- he wanted to be more than friends. We quarrelled. I walked back. It was a long way.’
‘
Hence the blisters, eh?’ he raised one eyebrow the way he used to do when he only half believed her if she had been playing tricks. ‘You always did have a bit of a temper when you were angry, I remember. He should have expected that with the colour of your hair.’
‘
My hair had nothing to do with it,’ she said angrily and stood up. He stood up too. They were very close. He looked down at her and shook his head slowly and she saw that oddly wistful look in his eyes again, or was it regret? Or disappointment? She didn’t know but she did know things were not the same between them.
‘
I expect you’ll make it up when you get back to college and see him again.’
Megan
turned away and didn’t answer. She didn’t want him to see the tears which had sprung to her eyes. Surely if he cared for her he would have trusted her.
At Willowburn, Eddy Caraford’s health continued to improve slowly and the weather grew warmer. On sunny days he was content to sit on the bench outside the kitchen door; when it was cooler he sat by the fire and watched Hannah as she cooked or did her housework or cleaned and packed her eggs ready for marketing. He could move around a little with his stick or with the furniture for support, but his right arm was almost useless and he had little strength in his affected leg. It was clear he would never be fit to work again as he used to do before the stroke, but he seemed to have developed a new serenity. Hannah was uncertain whether this was a good or a bad sign.
Steven visited every Sunday and sometimes during the week as well now the evenings were longer and light. He sensed the bond between his parents had strengthened rather that weakened since his father’s illness. He watched his father’s eyes following his wife with tender affection, and when she caught his eye they would exchange a smile. Steven almost envied them their rapport. This was not the grand passion of youth, the yearning desire Megan aroused in him now she had grown from mischievous child to desirable woman. The relationship between his parents was one of companionship and understanding. He knew it had grown over the years into deep and lasting friendship and it was a rare and valuable thing which he and Megan already shared. He realised now it was an acceptance of each other, their strengths and their weaknesses, a confiding of secret dreams and fears, the sharing of treasured memories. Whatever physical passion he might experience with another woman he knew he would never feel the closeness of spirit he shared with Megan. It saddened and depressed him because he knew he must keep silent and allow Megan her freedom to form other relationships when he could not promise her any sort of future.
He
felt a flare of resentment that he had sacrificed six good years of his life fighting a war neither he nor his fellow countrymen had wanted, while Fred had stayed at home. He could have built up the family’s farm, made it more productive, knowing there was a market and decent prices for everything he could produce. The demand for food had never been greater. Demand still exceeded supply and the prices were guaranteed but lack of capital held him back from expanding. The government had been compelled to ration staple foods as soon as war was declared. What greater incentive could any man want? Yet Fred had not only ignored a golden opportunity for himself, he had failed his family and his country, and he was still continuing in his idle ways. Willowburn still had only eight milking cows, no more than they had kept before the war. Steven knew his mother and Edna were still doing the milking. The land girl had unintentionally mentioned that Fred only got out of bed in time to take the milk churns to the road end for the collecting lorry. Apparently as soon as he returned he expected his breakfast to be ready even though he knew Edna had the pigs to feed and his mother had her poultry to attend, as well as assisting his father to dress and shave and other daily routines, but she never complained. It made his blood boil to think of Fred being so arrogant and idle. He was glad he was no longer at Willowburn or he might have committed murder. It sickened him to see the increasing signs of neglect and untidiness about the neat little farm where he had grown up. Fortunately his father did not see how rapidly things were deteriorating since his stroke because he rarely managed to walk further than the garden or across the small yard at the back of the house. Unknown to any of them, other people were noticing and taking a serious view of Fred’s haphazard management.
One
Sunday afternoon towards the end of May, Steven was surprised when his father beckoned him closer while his mother was upstairs changing her dress. His father’s speech was still slow but it was reasonably clear so long as he didn’t get angry or excited, but sometimes he couldn’t remember the words he wanted to use. Fred had no patience to listen or to help so the two rarely held a conversation but Steven knew how much his father looked forward to hearing what was going on at Schoirhead and the other smallholdings. He was surprised to find it was not farming his father had in mind on this particular occasion.
‘Ask Mr Kane to come to see me here,’ Eddy Caraford enunciated the words carefully. ‘Friday afternoon.’
‘
The solicitor?’ Steven was surprised, but his father nodded emphatically. ‘But Mother takes her eggs to Annan on Fridays. She’ll not…’
‘
I know.’ Eddy Caraford nodded again. ‘I want to… to make things right - and tight - for her.’
‘I see.’ Steven frowned and chewed his lower lip. His father watched him then patted his knee.
‘Hannah always one o’ the best. Ask him…to come.’
‘All right, if you’re sure.’
‘
I am. Plenty time now…to watch, see things…’
‘
I’ll telephone on Monday then and make an appointment for Mr Kane to call to see you here next Friday afternoon.’ Stephen repeated the arrangement carefully and watched his father nod with satisfaction.
The subject was never mentioned again so Steven had no idea what had transpired. He felt it was none of his business and it went out of his mind. In truth he had plenty of problems of his own. He was careful what he told the McGuires; he didn’t want Annie passing on his problems to his mother but he longed to have someone with whom he could safely share his concerns.
***
Megan went back to college with a heavy heart after Easter but in the middle of her second week she had a letter from Steven and her spirits rose. True, it was shorter than usual and not in his habitual chatty style. He kept away from personal topics, except to hope she was well. She had to restrain herself from replying the same day but by the end of the week Steven had the reply he had been hoping for.
He heaved a sigh of relief. Whatever friends Megan had made since she went to college there was no one yet who prevented her from writing to him as an old friend.
Megan was not too happy when she received Steven’s next letter.
‘
I
have
had
some
good
luck
and
some
bad
.
Ella
farrowed
twelve
piglets
and
she
is
proving
an
excellent
mother
,
calm
and
contented
with
plenty
of
milk
so
they
are
all
,
thriving
I
have
not
needed
a
box
by
the
Aga
to
nurse
a
wreckling
as
we
feared
.
I
have
chosen
two
already
which
I
hope
to
keep
as
gilts
if
all
goes
well
with
them
,
so
you
can
give
them
names
when
you
come
home
for
the
summer
.
’
Megan’s heart soared. Clearly Steven was expecting her to go down to Schoirhead again. She frowned as she read on.
‘
I
have
not
had
the
same
success
with
one
of
the
cows
I
bought
.
A
few
days
ago
when
I
had
finished
the
morning
milking
I
noticed
a
tiny
foetus
lying
in
the
channel
behind
her
.
She
had
aborted
.
I
would
not
have
noticed
if
she
had
been
out
in
the
fields
.
I
hope
it
was
a
natural
occurrence
but
I
fear
it
is
more
likely
that
my
father
was
right
and
that
it
is
contagious
abortion
following
on
from
the
trouble
I
had
with
Fred’s
heifers
.
I
don’t
need
to
tell
you
the
anxiety
that
causes
me
,
but
I
scarcely
know
what
to
do
.
I
need
more
cows
,
not
to
sell
the
ones
I
have
.
I
hear
they
are
queuing
for
potatoes
in
London
.
I
considered
growing
a
few
acres
here
as
they
would
be
a
good
crop
and
increase
the
fertility
of
the
soil
with
all
the
manure
I
inherited
from
the
previous
tenant
,
but
it
would
be
impossible
to
gather
them
myself
and
I’m
not
sure
where
I
could
hire
a
squad
or
even
whether
I
could
afford
to
pay
a
gang
of
pickers
.
I
may
make
more
enquiries
for
next
year
.
None
of
the
other
smallholders
grow
potatoes
,
except
for
their
own
use
,
but
they
all
have
at
least
a
couple
more
cows
than
I
have
.
Until
I
am
sure
mine
are
not
infected
with
contagious
abortion
I
am
reluctant
to
spend
any
money
on
buying
more
in
.
I
am
sorry
if
you
are
bored
with
this
account
of
my
failures
,
but
I
appreciate
our
long
friendship
more
than
I
can
say
.