Family Matters Read online

  Hope was nervous about meeting Mr Jackson. What if he didn’t like her? She would have come all this way for nothing. It didn’t matter that Susie insisted he would love her, she couldn’t help worrying. She really wasn’t used to being around older people. Her poor mother had only been in her fifties when she died and there were no grandparents on either side. As she followed Susie, reluctantly, along the disinfectant-scented hospital corridors, she grew more and more doubtful.

  Mr Jackson was a gaunt man in his early eighties. He was propped up uncomfortably in the high hospital bed with some kind of cushion around his injured hip.

  When Hope was introduced he shook her hand firmly and looked her up and down. Her heart sank further. She should probably have put on some sensible, dull clothes. The maroon velvet jacket with its sequins and mirrors would have been unusual in Brighton, and certainly turned a few heads here.

  ‘Pleased to meet you,’ she whispered.

  ‘Hmm? What was that?’ The elderly man frowned.

  ‘I said I’m very pleased to meet you.’

  ‘Good, good. I’m pleased to meet you, too, if it means they’ll let me out of this place. You go and find oot what they’re saying about that now, Susie, I can’t make out half of what’s going on. Too many foreign doctors and nobody bothers to speak clearly.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with foreign doctors,’ said Susie. ‘Simon says he doesn’t know where we would be without them. And perhaps you would get on better if you wore your hearing aid.’

  ‘More trouble than it’s worth,’ said Mr Jackson briskly. ‘Now, off you go and I can talk to the lassie here.’

  To Hope’s dismay, Susie did as she was told.

  ‘So you’re Elspeth Calvert’s girl,’ said the man. He examined her closely. He might be hard of hearing but there didn’t seem to be anything wrong with his sight.

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Sit down, sit down. I don’t bite, you know. You may as well look as though you mean to stay.’

  Hope perched on the edge of a hard plastic chair. ‘How are you feeling?’ she said, remembering to raise her voice.

  ‘No so grand. But we don’t want to talk about that. Both your parents are dead, aren’t they? I’m sure that’s what Susie Ashbury said.’

  ‘Yes. My father died when I was eleven and my mother when I was at college.’ Hope had given this explanation so often now it almost didn’t hurt. The shock of her father’s sudden death, from which her mother had never quite recovered, had cast a shadow over her teens. Even worse had been her mother’s own serious illness, which she had kept from Hope for far too long.

  ‘So you’re an orphan. Cannae be easy.’

  ‘Susie is my godmother. She’s been very good to me. And I have friends.’ Hope tried not to think of how her supposed best friend Amy had let her down.

  ‘Family’s aye important,’ said Mr Jackson in his brusque way. ‘I’ve none left close by so I ken that fine. My boy emigrated to Australia. Fine for holidays when I was able to get out and about but now it’s just too far. Hardly know my grandchildren.’

  ‘That’s a shame.’

  Mr Jackson nodded. His cheeks were drawn and his neck so thin Hope was surprised it could support the weight of his high-domed head. She realized how frail he was, for all his brusqueness, and some of her nervousness disappeared.

  ‘Now, have you met my Lucy?’

  Hope was momentarily confused. Was this some relative Susie had forgotten to mention? And then she remembered. Lucy was the dog.

  ‘No, not yet. The people who are looking after her are bringing her round this evening. I’m looking forward to it.’ That was true. Hope had never had a dog. Her mother had thought it would be too much trouble, but Hope had often longed for one.

  ‘Sooner I get home the better. She won’t like being away from her own routine. You go and make friends with her and settle yourself in the house. I’m getting out of this place by the end of the week, one way or another. I want her there waiting for me. Ah, here’s Susie, she can tell me what’s going on.’

  ‘They say they need to wait for the consultant to see you,’ said Susie, pulling up a slightly more comfortable chair beside Hope. ‘But from what I can gather from Sister they don’t see any reason why he should want you to stay much longer. She talked about organizing a “package of care” for you but when I explained about Hope she said that should make things a lot quicker.’

  ‘Good. I want to be out of here by Friday. Can you have the lass settled in by then?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Susie approvingly. ‘We’ll have everything ready for you. I can see that you and my goddaughter are going to get along famously.’

  ‘She’ll do,’ said Mr Jackson and laid his head back on the pillow, apparently dismissing them.

  Hope was relieved to be out of the hospital. Illness made her tense. In her experience, when people went in to hospital they didn’t get better. But Mr Jackson was going to. He was going to be fine.

  ‘He likes you,’ said Susie happily.

  Hope grinned. ‘I think he’d accept anyone as long as it meant he could get out of hospital.’

  ‘Actually, I didn’t want to mention this before, but he can be a bit awkward. If he hadn’t liked you he would have said so. I’m very pleased with how that went.’

  Hope wondered what on earth she had let herself in for, if this abrupt conversation was considered a resounding success. It was too late to back out now.

  Chapter Three

  Hope followed Susie up the hill from the row of ‘new’ bungalows where she and Simon lived to the older section of the village. She hardly knew this part at all, although she remembered once going to a service in a little old church at the end of a winding track. From what Susie had said, she presumed Mr Jackson’s house would be near this. However, Susie led her past the turning clearly marked ‘Church and Graveyard’.

  ‘I thought it would be down there,’ she said, surprised.

  ‘It is. In fact that’s Kirkside you can see from the road. But I wanted to show you something else first.’

  She continued on until they were past the end of the village. Then Susie pointed down a tiny track to the left.

  ‘I don’t suppose you’ve ever been down there, have you?’ Her godmother looked at her consideringly.

  ‘No,’ said Hope, puzzled now. She pushed her long hair back over her shoulder and squinted through the gloom of the trees that overhung the track on both sides. ‘Where does it lead?’

  ‘That’s Cleughbrae. Where your mother lived.’

  Hope peered down the gloomy track, wondering why she was so surprised. She had known her mother had lived in St Ann’s Bridge since her adoption when she was three years old. Her adoptive parents had, however, died by the time Hope came along. Her mother had never spoken of her childhood or the house where she had grown up. When Hope had asked questions, her mother had always said ‘you wouldn’t be interested in that’. It was odd that Susie had brought her here now. She clearly thought Hope would be interested.

  ‘What a funny little road,’ said Hope doubtfully. The track was dark, scattered with loose stones and dead leaves. ‘It looks as though it could lead to Hansel and Gretel’s cottage.’

  ‘The house isn’t quite that picturesque,’ said Susie with a snort of laughter. She turned back, no longer keen to continue with the tour. ‘I’ll take you to have a look when we have more time. Now, we’d better make a quick visit to Kirkside then I need to go home to make Simon’s dinner.’

  Kirkside proved to be more or less what Hope had expected. A large red-sandstone house standing four-square in a generous garden, with an air of neglect that surely dated from before Mr Jackson’s recent stay in hospital. The house smelt a little musty but it wasn’t unwelcoming.

  ‘It’s massive,’ murmured Hope as her godmother took her rapidly through the four rooms and kitchen on the ground floor before leading her up the wide staircase.

  ‘Yes. Lovely old place.
Most of it is no longer used, as you can see.’

  ‘My flat would have fitted into one of the smaller sitting rooms.’

  ‘It’ll be fun for you to live in a place with so much space.’

  ‘As long as I don’t get too used to it,’ said Hope, as a warning to herself. She felt she was going to rather like this house.

  Susie showed her the bedrooms, pointing out one looking down to the river which she had picked out for Hope’s own use, and then went on to discuss how they could set up a bedroom on the ground floor for Mr Jackson until he could manage the stairs again. ‘If he ever can. There are rather a lot of them, aren’t there?’ Susie frowned at long sweep of steps, so different from the sensible layout of her own bungalow. ‘I wonder if we could get a stair-lift installed?’

  ‘And I wonder if Mr Jackson would ever agree to one.’

  ‘How right you are!’ Susie gave her a hug. ‘I’m so glad you understand him. He’s a darling but not the easiest of people. Right, best get off home. This has given you an idea of what needs doing. I wonder if we can persuade Robbie Mackenzie to help with moving the furniture? We’ll ask him when he brings the dog around this evening. Now that’s a very good idea.’

  Robbie was a little late taking Lucy to the Ashburys’. He didn’t see that it mattered, for goodness sake, he had said something along the lines of he would drop in around eight. But his mother was, unfortunately, a stickler for punctuality. When he was still eating his dinner at five to she had started to get agitated and when he hadn’t left by five past she was all set to phone Susie Ashbury and tell her he would be late.

  ‘It’s only a five-minute walk,’ he protested. ‘And no one expects you to be absolutely on time.’

  ‘I do,’ said his mother firmly. ‘I was brought up in a household where neither Mama nor Papa could ever be on time and I vowed not to be the same.’

  ‘And I was brought up in a house where you and Dad are not only on time but usually early – and see what that has done for me. And come to think of it, Luke’s not exactly punctual, is he?’

  His mother cuffed him affectionately. ‘Off you go. It’ll take you more than five minutes; you know Lucy can’t walk quickly these days.’

  ‘Yes Mum, no Mum.’ Robbie ducked sideways to avoid another cuff and, calling the grey-haired collie (twice, she was hard of hearing), he finally set off.

  It was another lovely summer evening. The grass in the fields was long and waved gently in the slight breeze. If this dry spell continued they would be able to cut the hay soon. He looked forward to that. Harvest time was the one period when the farm could do with more than a couple of workers and, despite his father, he enjoyed helping out. Sometimes they worked long into the twilight. There was always a thrill to getting in the hay, defeating the fickle Scottish weather.

  Luke wanted to move over to doing more silage, as that wasn’t so weather-dependent, but their father wouldn’t hear of it. As far as he was concerned, silage was some new-fangled fad.

  Robbie rang the doorbell of the Ashburys’ bungalow. After a moment Susie appeared and led him through the house and conservatory to a patio that looked over the sloping garden at the rear. It was all beautifully tended, unlike his parents’ place. Being farmers, they never seemed to have time for neatness and flowers.

  Sitting in the cane chairs were Dr Ashbury, looking a little greyer since Robbie had last seen him, and the girl who must be the house-cum-dog-sitter. Hope, that was what she was called. It seemed quite an odd name to Robbie. It had made him expect a small, plain, neat person which couldn’t have been further from the truth.

  The girl who rose to shake his hand was slight, but she was neither plain nor neat. She had dark eyes in a rather pale face and long, wavy, brown hair held back in a loose plait. She wore a sleeveless top of some kind of material that shimmered in the sunshine and a strange, long skirt with an uneven hem. She wasn’t classically pretty but she was arresting. And there was something else about her that made him want to look twice: a wistful sadness in her eyes.

  He shook her slim hand and said, ‘Pleased to meet you.’ He meant it, too.

  ‘Thank you. And you. And is this Lucy?’ She spoke softly in an English accent he couldn’t identify. He wished he had paid more attention when his mother was chattering about where the girl came from.

  She crouched down, her long skirt swishing on the ground, and held out a hand to the bearded collie. ‘Hello, darling, are you Lucy? Are you going to say hello?’

  ‘Yes, this is Lucy. Goodness knows how she can see anything with all that hair in her eyes but she seems to manage. She’s a bit deaf though, you have to speak up.’

  The collie had noticed Hope now and turned her large shaggy head to the proffered hand. She sniffed it, then licked it, then nudged with her head to be stroked.

  ‘She likes you already,’ said Susie Ashbury happily. ‘I knew she would. Now, Robbie, have a seat. What can I get you to drink?’

  Robbie hadn’t intended to stay more than a few minutes, but he found he had changed his mind. He took a seat in one of the pretty chairs and accepted a shandy. He needed something thirst-quenching after the hard day’s work on the hill.

  Dr Ashbury chatted to him about how it felt returning to the area after living away, and the girl patted the dog and listened, asking an occasional question herself. He hoped this meant she was interested and not just that she was being polite.

  ‘How long have you been up here?’ he asked, wanting to involve her more in the conversation.

  ‘I only arrived yesterday.’

  ‘Did you have a long way to come?’

  ‘Quite a long way.’ She smiled slightly. ‘From Brighton, actually. It took over nine hours but I did have a few stops.’

  ‘Always sensible to take some breaks,’ said Dr Ashbury. ‘Every two to three hours would be my advice.’

  ‘I’ve never been to Brighton,’ he said, examining the girl. He wondered if everyone wore strange and colourful clothes down there. ‘Is it nice?’

  ‘It can be a fun place to live,’ she said with a brief smile. Then she looked sad again. ‘But I was glad to get away. Now I’m here I’ve realized perhaps I’m not really a city person. I loved the seafront in Brighton: it gives you a sense of space, but that’s nothing to what you have around here.’ She gestured to the valley that fell away below the garden and then to the rolling green hills beyond. ‘This is beautiful. I don’t know why my mother didn’t want to come back more often.’

  Robbie opened his mouth and then closed it again. He had just remembered something his mother had said about Elspeth McIlroy. If it was true, he wasn’t surprised she hadn’t liked to return to St Ann’s Bridge.

  Chapter Four

  Hope was both worried and excited about moving into Kirkside. This would be the end of her short holiday with Susie and Simon and the beginning of her new ‘job,’ which was scary. On the other hand, it would be a step forward, a positive decision to move on after the fiasco of the shop. She needed to concentrate on that side of things and not worry whether she was really cut out to be a carer.

  On the day of the move, Simon accompanied them to carry in Hope’s suitcases (although she could have managed perfectly well herself) and to inspect their arrangements. Whilst he took the cases upstairs, Hope and Susie ferried carrier bags of food into the kitchen.

  The ringing of the front door bell heralded another arrival, which could only be Robbie Mackenzie, come to drop off Lucy and help rearrange the furniture.

  Hope found herself unaccountably nervous at the thought of seeing him again. He had seemed such a self-possessed young man, charmingly at ease and good-looking in a Latin way that had seemed quite unexpected in the Scottish countryside. Susie had explained his mother was of Italian descent. This had made him seem all the more exotic.

  Hope felt it was a terrible imposition asking him to help them move beds and wardrobes. You would never have dreamed of asking a neighbour to do something like that in Brighton or Bourne
mouth.

  Now she followed Susie back into the wide entrance hall, rubbing her hands nervously on her patchwork skirt. Then she caught sight of Lucy, looking so forlorn with all that hair in her eyes, and she forgot to be concerned. She bent and put her hand out towards the old dog. ‘How are you, darling? How does it feel to be back in your home?’

  Robbie watched with a grin on his handsome face. Once again he wore jeans and a T-shirt. He pushed the curly dark hair back from his face and said, ‘Right, let’s make a start, shall we? What was it you wanted me to move?’

  He smiled at Hope, who could feel herself begin to blush. Fortunately Susie took charge, as she was used to doing.

  ‘We’re converting the back sitting room into a bedroom for Mr Jackson. We don’t want to risk him hurting himself on the stairs. Social services have provided a special bed for him, which is very good of them. That’s already in there. We’ve managed to move out some of the furniture but we’d appreciate it if you could shift the settee and that massive sideboard. And then we can go upstairs and see about moving some things down.’

  The furniture was old and very solid. Hope wondered how on earth Robbie was going to manage to move it.

  She needn’t have worried. Robbie had no problem at all with items Hope and Susie could scarcely manage between them. For the heavier ones he needed Simon’s help, but Hope suspected the younger man was doing most of the lifting.

  Susie wanted to hang around, but she was getting in the way so Hope suggested they go and make a cup of tea. It was funny to see her decisive godmother dithering between her desire to oversee the two men and her obligation to help with the catering. Eventually duty won out, and she followed Hope into the lovely square kitchen at the rear of the house.

  ‘I do hope they’re going to manage, I would never have let Simon come with us if I’d known he was going to get involved in lifting things. Now where did we put the tea bags …?’