Authors: Gwen Kirkwood
‘
What I’m trying to say…’ Chrissie sighed, looking at Megan’s set young face.
‘
I know Mum. You’re trying to tell me I should forget about Steven and get on with my career, training to be a teacher. But you were only nineteen when you married Dad. You’ve both been happy, haven’t you?’
‘
Yes, love, we have, but we were lucky. We’ve both had good health and we both came from dairy families. We were used to hard work and early mornings and living in a tied cottage, and no holidays. But it was a struggle in the early days until we got our household together, especially when Sam came along and then wee Callum less than a year later. I had to take you all to the byre with me in the pram, at five o’ clock every morning. I’ve often wondered if Callum might have survived if I hadn’t needed to help with the milking, if I’d been able to keep him warmer in the house…’
‘
Oh Mum, don’t say that. You told me yourself the doctor had never held out much hope for him reaching his first birthday because he was so small and had difficulty breathing.’ She had been angry with her mother a few seconds before but now she felt a surge of love. Her parents had always done their best for her and Sam, and now she was all they had. All their hopes and dreams rested on her. They had made sacrifices for her to go to the Academy and stay on at school until she was nearly eighteen instead of leaving school at fourteen as Sam and Steven had done. She couldn’t let them down now by refusing to go to college, but three years seemed like an eternity. When she was being honest with herself she had to admit Steven had never hinted at a future together.
***
Steven frowned as he neared the boundary to Willowburn land. There were puddles and wet patches in the low meadow. Obviously a drain needed repairing, maybe more than one. He had often helped his father dig around wet patches which suddenly appeared where there had been none before. They usually found a broken clay tile which was allowing water to spout to the surface and form a pool instead of being carried away to a major drain.
‘
Draining is like your mother and her mending basket, laddie,’ his father said, ‘A stitch in time saves nine. Replacing a broken drainage tile now will save a lot more digging later.’ Steven smiled at the memory. There was nothing he had loved better than following his father, whether he was working in the fields or with the animals. His father was fifty nine but the last time Steven had been on leave he had thought he looked much older, he seemed so worn and weary. The war had affected everybody in different ways.
His
heart sank when he remembered that instead of being home to stay he would have only forty eight hours leave. He must make time to call on the Oliphants. He knew they would have questions about Sam’s death and he had always felt as welcome in their home as he was in his own. He wished Sam could have felt as welcome at Willowburn but Fred was six years older than them and big for his age. He had resented their friendship and bullied them unmercifully. Thoughts of Fred brought his mind back to the farm and the rumours which Megan had mentioned so tactfully in one of her letters.
His
mother had written regularly too but she had avoided telling him of the trouble with the War Agricultural Executive Committee. This was a group of men selected to check on farms, ensuring they were producing the maximum amount of food. They were generally known as the War Ag and they had authority to replace inefficient farmers if they couldn’t, or wouldn’t, comply with the demands and needs of the nation.
He
noticed other signs of neglect, hedges overgrown with gaping holes at the bottom, places where a ewe or a young stirk could squeeze through and go wandering off, maybe never to be seen again. There were all sorts of stories about animals being stolen and slaughtered for sale on the black-market. He knew there was a scarcity of fencing wire but there were other ways of making the boundaries proof against straying animals. The hedges needed to be cut and layered so that branches could be woven in and out of upright stems. The layered branches would sprout and grow upwards to fill the gaps and thicken the hedge. Steven’s hands clenched. He longed to test his own skills and have the satisfaction of seeing thick, neat hedges as a result of his labour. His father was skilled at such tasks but they took time and energy and he had too much to do already. Fred had always avoided anything involving physical effort. Steven often wondered why he had been so insistent on being the one to stay on the farm instead of joining the army. Knowing his half brother as he did he was sure Fred would have wheedled his way into driving a lorry or chauffeuring a Brigadier around.
A
low groan of pain interrupted his reverie. He paused, frowning. There was a rustling and a long low moo-ing. He peered through the hedge and saw a cow lying stretched out on her side. She was the only animal in the field which was unusual for a start. Steven realised she was trying to give birth to her calf and finding it impossible. He moved further along the hedge until he came to a gap big enough for him to squeeze through. He saw at once that the young cow was exhausted and must have been calving for some time. He also realised the problem was because the calf was coming backwards, its hind legs already straight out but no amount of pushing by the cow was enough to release the rear end of the calf. Swiftly he stripped off his battle dress and rolled up his sleeves.
‘
Steady then old girl. Let’s see what we can do.’ Steven spoke soothingly, his voice low and deep. Gently he bent beside her and felt around, trying to ease the passage. It was dry, another sign that the cow had been working on too long. He could have done with some soapy water. The tail of the calf was facing the wrong way. Gradually, he managed to manipulate the tail head and ease the skin a little round about. Then he grasped the hind legs, wishing he had ropes to help him grip and pull. He increased the pressure gently and waited for the cow to push again. Once he had eased the calf’s rear out it came away easier than he had dared to hope. Quickly he cleared the skin from the calf’s nose and mouth, surprised and pleased to see it was still alive. He rubbed it vigorously along its side until it gave a cough and a tiny bellow of protest then he dragged it round to the front of the cow with a feeling of immense satisfaction. The cow was too exhausted to get to her feet but when she saw her calf she sniffed and raised her head enough to give it a lick. Evidently spurred on by this she managed to sit up and lick her offspring. Even as Steven watched, the calf raised his head and shook it vigorously. Soon it would be on its feet he thought with a smile. He wiped his hands as well as he could on the grass and hooked his jacket with his finger as he scrambled back through the hedge to retrieve his kitbag and go on his way. He knew that if the cow had been left much longer the calf would certainly have been dead and possibly the cow too. Even Fred couldn’t say he hadn’t earned his keep for this visit.
As
he rounded a bend in the track the familiar farmstead came into view and his heart beats quickened. More than ever now he longed to get back to Willowburn and the life he had loved. Judging by the signs of neglect he had seen they were badly in need of another pair of hands. His heart sank as he recalled the words of his Commanding Officer. Apparently they would be spending the next twelve months or more in Palestine. How was he going to break the news to his parents?
Outside
the back door at Willowburn, the old pump was still working so he set his kitbag beside the door while he washed the remaining mucus and bloodstains off his hands and forearms before he crept into the house. His mother was bending over the fire stirring something in a cooking pot when he entered the kitchen.
‘
Hello Mum,’ he greeted her softly and reached behind the door for the roller towel to dry himself. There was a lilt of laughter in his voice. As he had anticipated she swung round, spoon in hand, her face beaming in welcome, her eyes full of love. He was unaware of it but he had inherited his mother’s smiling blue eyes and expressive face, as well as her thick wavy hair, but he had his father’s square, determined jaw.
‘
Oh Stevie it’s good to see ye, laddie!’ She hugged him tightly then stood back to examine him. ‘Surely ye canna be growing still! You must be head and shoulders taller than your father and Fred now.’
‘
I’ve been taller than them for a while,’ he chuckled. ‘I expect I’m broadening out a bit more.’
‘
Aye maybe that’s it. The bus must have been on time for once. Mind you, Joe Crosby’s son took over the driving this week. He’s home frae the war too. He doesna gossip to the passengers as much as his father. He doesna know them all yet.’
‘
Mmm, I met him. He seems a pleasant fellow. There weren’t many other passengers on the bus today.’
‘
There’ll be plenty on the afternoon bus. Standing room only I shouldn’t wonder. Friday is market day in Annan, in case ye’ve forgotten. The women will be in for their shopping. Mind you, the rationing is getting worse instead o’ better. We thought things would be easier once peace was declared but I suppose it will take time to have effect.’
‘
It will take a long while before things are back to normal,’ Steven said gravely. ‘There’s so much destruction everywhere.’ He frowned. He would not spoil her pleasure yet with his news. ‘Rations or not something smells good.’ He sniffed appreciatively.
‘
Mr Kerr saved me a nice wee piece o’ lamb to welcome ye back. After all that travelling you’ll be ready for a cup o’ tea. I’ll shove the kettle over the fire and it’ll be ready in a jiffy.”
A
few minutes later they sat opposite each other at the scrubbed kitchen table with Hannah plying him with questions and Steven eager to hear what was happening on the farm. He noticed how the light died out of her eyes and for a moment he thought she might burst into tears the way her lips trembled, but she pressed a hand to her mouth then continued to chatter, almost feverishly, until they heard his father’s measured tread crossing the flagged floor of the back kitchen. Steven watched speculatively as his mother rose to her feet and reached for another cup and saucer for his father.
‘
Eh you’re home at last, laddie. Na, na dinna get up.’ His father strode to his side and squeezed his shoulder. ‘It’s good to see you’re back safely,’ he said gruffly. Steven knew he ought to tell them he was not here to stay but the talk moved on. They both plied him with questions. He knew they were pleased to see him home, and yet he was certain there was an air of constraint.
‘
The farm is all right, isn’t it?’ The words burst out of him.
‘
Of course it is,’ his mother answered swiftly, ‘why shouldn’t it be?’
‘
I- oh, I just wondered. I know I’ve been away but I do read the papers and we do hear things. I know the government have been pressing everybody to produce as much food as possible. One or two farmers near to where we were stationed have been moved out of their farms. Some of us were sent to help get the harvest in when we were back in camp.’ He couldn’t bring himself to tell them he knew the War Ag had threatened to take over Willowburn. It would distress his mother if she realised it was common knowledge down in the village, and no doubt all around the parish.
‘
We’ve a grand litter o’ piglets,’ his father said. ‘They were born three days ago, twelve of them and all alive and suckling. D’ye remember the gilt we had the spring you had to go into the army.’
‘
Yes, I do. We called her Sally.’
‘
Well this sow was one of Sally’s first litter. They’re all good mothers.’
‘
Speaking of mothers, there was a cow calving in Keeper’s Field. The calf was coming backwards. She looked as though she’d been calving for some time,’ He didn’t hear Fred come in. ‘I gave it a pull. Surprisingly the calf is alive but I wondered if the cow had hurt her back or if she was just exhausted. She didn’t get up while I was there so she’ll probably need a drink—’
‘
Interfering already are ye!’ Fred growled angrily. He was still wearing his boots although they were thick with manure from the midden. ‘Have you told him?’ he demanded. There was no welcome home from Fred, Steven noticed, not even “Hello.”
‘
Oh Fred, Steven has only just arrived, and look at your boots!’
‘
Don’t nag,’ Fred glowered. ‘He’s been here nearly an hour. I saw him coming up the road.’
Home
an hour after five years away, Hannah thought, and Fred resents even that.
‘
What have you to tell me?’ Steven asked, looking round the three faces in turn.
‘
Nothing,’ his mother said shortly, setting her mouth in a tight line. ‘It’s nearly dinner time. We can talk later.’ His father was silent, rubbing his forehead, his eyes fixed on the table top. Hannah had only given him an edited version of Fred’s threats but he still looked troubled. She knew how much he had always hated quarrels.
‘
If you won’t tell him, I will.’ Fred jerked his head towards the door and Steven wondered how he could have forgotten his half brother’s sullen manner. He remembered how frustrated and angry he used to get when Fred failed to do his work and then blamed him. His mouth tightened but he rose and followed Fred outside. He was beginning to understand the reason for the tense atmosphere now. He guessed Fred was bent on making trouble of some kind, almost before he had put a foot in the door, but there was nothing new in that. He had no inkling of how much trouble though.