Family Matters Page 6

  Don’t let it be Robbie, thought Hope, and then felt guilty. Just because she didn’t know Luke didn’t make it any better if he was hurt. But she liked Robbie, and the thought of him injured made her feel quite sick. He knew the hills so well, surely it couldn’t be him.

  ‘What happened?’ she asked, but Susie was already on her way out.

  ‘I hope it’s no serious,’ said Mr Jackson lugubriously. ‘They young lads don’t think when they go off gallivanting. Lucky we didn’t have time for that kind of thing in my day.’

  ‘It was Luke’s stag weekend,’ said Hope, remembering. ‘He’s supposed to get married next month. Gosh, I wonder if Clare has heard what’s happened.’

  She wished there was something she could do, but there wasn’t. She hardly knew the slight, blonde girl who was Luke’s fiancée. There would be people far more useful than her to rally around Maria Mackenzie and her husband. All Hope could do was wait. At least this had taken her mind off her own problems.

  Robbie travelled in the back of the ambulance with Luke. The last couple of hours were a blur: seeing Luke fall, trying to find out how badly he was hurt, waiting for Mountain Rescue, and then hurrying down the hill beside them.

  ‘I don’t think it’s as bad as it looks,’ one of them had said. ‘He’s not lost consciousness again. He’s making a fuss. That’s a good sign.’

  The paramedics had, however, given Luke some pain relief and he was now asleep, leaving Robbie alone with his thoughts.

  He was pretty sure his brother had a broken leg. He also had hundreds of cuts and bruises. But as long as that was all, as long as there was no internal damage or injury to his head … Robbie shivered despite the warmth inside the vehicle. His mother and Clare were meeting him at Dumfries hospital. He really didn’t know what he was going to say to them.

  It seemed like hours later when the three of them were sitting in the canteen.

  ‘I can’t believe he was so stupid,’ said Clare for the twentieth time.

  ‘He always did like to climb,’ said his mother.

  ‘I should have stopped him,’ said Robbie.

  ‘It’s not your fault,’ said Clare. He was grateful for her words. He doubted his father would be so understanding.

  Clare took a sip of her coffee and gave a long sigh of relief. ‘Now he’s out of theatre and back on the ward and we know the only real damage is the broken leg – well, it’s not the end of the world, is it?’

  ‘But you’re getting married in three weeks’ time,’ wailed Maria. Once she knew her son’s life wasn’t in danger she had transferred her worries to the wedding. ‘Everything’s booked, it’s all organised. Whatever are we going to do?’

  It was Clare who said, ‘He can get married with a broken leg, you know.’ Robbie had thought this too, but it sounded better coming from her. ‘He and I’ll need to talk about it when he’s in a fit state to do so, but I don’t think it should be a problem.’

  ‘You mean you still want to marry him, even if he is an idiot?’ asked Robbie.

  ‘Of course.’ Clare smiled. ‘But that doesn’t mean I’m not going to give him a piece of my mind, first.’

  ‘And me,’ said Maria with feeling. ‘And that will be nothing to what his father will have to say. In fact, here he is. He can tell us exactly what he thinks of his oldest son.’

  Maria hurried off to help her husband choose from the self-service counter, as if he couldn’t manage on his own. But all too soon they were back at the table. Once his father had been filled in on Luke’s condition he turned to Robbie, ‘What on earth did you let him do that for?’ His tone was grim, his expression stony. ‘I told you it was a foolish idea, going off for the night like that.’

  ‘It’s not Robbie’s fault,’ protested Maria.

  ‘I’ll speak to Luke when I see him. But you, boy, what were you thinking of? You know your brother only has to step on to a wall to fall off it. Why on earth didn’t you stop him?’

  Robbie looked at the blazing anger in his father’s face and remembered all the other times he’d been in the wrong, how nothing he ever did seemed to be right. This time, for once, he agreed with his father.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He still felt sick when he thought of Luke’s body lying at the foot of the cliff. It was his fault. He should have known something would go wrong. ‘It was – pretty awful for a bit, when we didn’t know how badly he was hurt …’

  ‘Don’t talk about that,’ said Clare quickly.

  ‘What I want to know is, how am I going to manage on the farm?’ continued his father. ‘Sounds like the boy will be no use to anyone for weeks. This might not be the busiest time of year but there’s still too much to do for one man. I don’t know …’

  For a few moments Robbie tuned out from the conversation. His mother was torn between expressing her relief that Luke wasn’t too badly hurt, and sympathising with her husband. His father was looking grey with weariness, or was that shock?

  He was right. He couldn’t manage the farm on his own. Robbie came to a decision.

  ‘I’ll help you,’ he said. The words were out before he had chance to consider. But really, did he have any other option? He had to make reparations somehow.

  ‘What?’ His father looked quite put out to be stopped in mid-tirade.

  His mother said, ‘But Robbie, your own job …’

  ‘I’d already booked two weeks’ holiday to be home whilst Luke was on his honeymoon. I’ll see if they’ll let me start that a bit sooner, take some unpaid leave. And if they won’t, well, I’ll hand in my notice.’ He kept his voice neutral, not letting them see how much it would hurt to turn his back on his work.

  ‘But you love that job,’ said his mother, her normally olive complexion pale from yet another shock. ‘You can’t do that.’

  ‘About time he did something for the family,’ said Robbie’s father and sniffed. He didn’t even say thank you.

  Chapter Ten

  After a couple of days of taking it easy, Mr Jackson seemed once again to be on the road to recovery.

  To celebrate the improvement in his appetite, Hope decided to cook a special meal. She was beginning to work out his likes and dislikes and knew a ‘nice bit of fish’ went down well. She had found parsley growing in the garden and enjoyed herself preparing cod in a fresh parsley sauce.

  ‘That smells no’ bad,’ said Mr Jackson when she put his plate down in front of him. The last couple of days he had already been in bed by this time but today he had chosen to eat in the kitchen with Hope.

  ‘I hope you like it. The potatoes are from Mrs Simpson’s garden and the peas are from the Ashburys’. It’s amazing how many people here grow their own veg, and how kind they are at sharing it.’

  Mr Jackson frowned at her, puzzled. ‘It’s aye been like that round here.’

  For a while they ate in silence. Hope was beginning to get used to the old man and she no longer so worried if he didn’t want to chat.

  When she brought out strawberries for dessert he smiled approvingly and said, ‘Your granddad used to grow grand strawberries.’

  Hope froze at this topic, but Mr Jackson seemed not to notice.

  ‘He was a fine gardener, so he was. Your gran, now, she would rather stay inside the house, but Joseph was happy to be out in all weathers. He’d learnt that from his own dad, of course. Joseph senior had to grow food if he was going to keep a family of five growing boys fed.’

  Hope was surprised out of her determination to show no interest. ‘Were there really five children? At Cleughbrae? But the place is tiny.’

  ‘Aye, so were most houses,’ said Mr Jackson, looking at her as if she was mad. ‘People managed. You’d have two or three bairns to a double bed often as not. Never did them any harm.’

  ‘I suppose not,’ said Hope doubtfully. She still thought it must have been very cramped, with seven people living in that little house. ‘You said there were five boys?’

  ‘Aye. The boys were a fair bit older than me, li
ke. We weren’t friendly but I knew of the family. The oldest boy, Tom, was killed in the First World War.’

  Hope couldn’t stop herself asking, ‘What happened to the others?’

  Mr Jackson frowned, narrowing his eyes as though trying to remember. ‘The next two brothers, I cannae mind their names, they emigrated to Canada. Norman was the fourth one. He stayed at home, never married. Joseph was the youngest and we all thought he wouldn’t marry, either, and then he and Jane Irving got together. I remember their engagement. My mother insisted on taking me along to congratulate them, I cannae mind why. I was about eighteen at the time and they seemed ever so old.’ He smiled reminiscently. ‘I couldn’t imagine why they’d want to get married at their age.’

  ‘That was during the Second World War?’

  ‘Aye, it would have been.’

  ‘Did you go to their wedding?’

  ‘No, I don’t recall that I did. That would have been after the war ended. Maybe I was still in the army myself, or maybe it was just a low-key thing. Weddings often were, then.’

  ‘And after the wedding they went to live at Cleughbrae? Weren’t Joseph’s parents living there then?’

  ‘I’m no’ sure where they lived at first. You could ask Susie Ashbury about that. She knew the family better than I did.’

  ‘Maybe I will,’ said Hope, already knowing she wouldn’t. It was one thing talking to Mr Jackson about her family. He hadn’t known her then, it wasn’t his fault she hadn’t been told the truth. Susie was another thing entirely.

  ‘I’m not sure telling Hope about her mother and the whole adoption thing went as well as I’d hoped,’ said Susie.

  She and Simon and Sarah were having a few moments’ peace over morning coffee whilst the two grandchildren ran round and round the garden like wild things.

  Simon grunted, ‘I told you not to interfere.’

  ‘I think she needed to know the truth,’ said Sarah. ‘But maybe you could have broken it to her in a different way?’

  ‘Such as?’ Susie felt quite hurt. She had just been doing her best.

  ‘I don’t know. But it was obviously a huge shock to her, that’s why she doesn’t want to talk about it with any of us. Maybe if you could have prepared her better in advance?’

  ‘It’s too late for that now,’ said Simon, matter-of-fact as ever.

  Susie sighed. She had enjoyed seeing more of her goddaughter and was missing her.

  Sarah said, ‘Why don’t we take the children to see her and Mr Jackson later on? We’ve got to keep in touch, even if she doesn’t want to talk about you-know-what.’

  ‘That’s not be a bad idea,’ said Susie, cheering up. Hope seemed quite fond of Megan and Josh and if the children were there it would help the conversation along.

  ‘Make sure you don’t push her,’ said Simon.

  ‘As if I would …’

  Hope was making soup for Mr Jackson’s lunch when she heard the knock at the door. Who was it now? she wondered. Perhaps one of the old men from the village come to hide from his own wife and keep Mr Jackson company. That was the sort of visitor her patient enjoyed, someone who would play dominos and reminisce about how much better things used to be – and wouldn’t nag about whether he was eating properly or doing his exercises.

  Hope dried her hands and went to answer the door. Mr Jackson could have gone himself but he had got into the habit of leaving it to her. When she saw who it was, she was glad she had answered. Standing on the wide stone doorstep were not just Susie, and Sarah, and the two grandchildren, but Maria Mackenzie as well. Mr Jackson would definitely have been over-faced.

  ‘Any more?’ she asked, only half joking, as they all trooped in.

  Susie kissed her cheek. ‘How are you, dear? The children wanted to come round and see you and we popped in on Maria on the way and she felt she could do with a little outing and …’

  ‘Lovely to see you all,’ said Hope, trying to keep the doubts out of her voice. ‘Why don’t you come through to the kitchen and I’ll see if Mr Jackson is up to having visitors just now?’

  Mr Jackson expressed a willingness to see Megan and Josh, so Susie took them along to the front room where they would no doubt be given a choice from the ‘secret’ stash of toffees. Mr Jackson had a surprising soft spot for children. Hope thought it was a shame he wasn’t able to see his own grandchildren. There had been talk of the family coming over for a visit from Australia, but nothing had been confirmed so far.

  Hope and Sarah and Maria were left in the kitchen.

  ‘How’s Luke?’ asked Hope. She still felt guilty at her relief it wasn’t Robbie who had been injured.

  ‘Making good progress. All being well, he’s coming home tomorrow.’ Maria Mackenzie was sitting at the kitchen table, tracing patterns in the wood with her finger, and not looking nearly as happy as Hope would have expected.

  ‘That’s good,’ she said encouragingly.

  ‘Things are a bit difficult at Holm Farm just now,’ said Sarah, seeming to feel some explanation was needed. ‘Robbie and his dad are not exactly seeing eye to eye, which is why Maria thought she’d come for a walk with us.’

  ‘Oh dear.’ Hope hardly knew Robbie’s father but she had always found the son remarkably good-natured.

  ‘They’re both hard workers, of course they are,’ said Maria. ‘But they have their own ideas about how things should be done. It was good of Robbie to take time off work to help. But now I’m wondering if it was the best thing … And once we have Luke back in the house it’ll be even worse. Now John has got over his relief Luke’s injury isn’t anything worse, he’s pretty annoyed about the whole thing.’

  ‘I’m sure it’ll be fine. Every family has their tiffs,’ said Sarah. ‘And you’ve got a lot on your hands at the moment, what with the wedding so near. It’s not surprising people are getting a little short-tempered.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the wedding,’ said Maria, brightening at once and launching into a long and detailed exposition of all the things that still needed to be done and the problems that had arisen with the dresses. These problems didn’t seem to get her down the way family arguments did.

  Hope listened with one ear as she added more lentils and stock to the soup and dug an extra loaf out of the freezer. She would, of course, invite everyone to stay for lunch. It was a good thing lentil soup could be easily stretched.

  Mr Jackson chose to eat his lunch on a tray in the sitting room. All the visitors except Maria were persuaded to stay and join Hope in the kitchen.

  ‘Wonderful soup,’ said Susie, smiling at Hope fondly. Hope felt guilty for having avoided her godmother. ‘I’d forgotten what a good cook you are. You take after your mother.’

  Hope frowned. She didn’t want to be reminded of her mother. Sarah seemed to realise this and jumped in to change the direction of the conversation.

  ‘The Mackenzies have got just about everything sorted for Luke’s wedding,’ she said. ‘Even the flower fiasco seems to be in hand. It’s just the bridesmaids’ dresses Maria’s still worried about. You know Clare’s sister is expecting, and the dressmaker was going to make last-minute alterations depending on how much weight she had put on. Now the dressmaker has had to go away and they’re not sure who they can get to do it.’

  ‘Poor things,’ said Susie sympathetically. ‘If it’s not one thing it’s another. I remember the difficulties we had with the cake for your wedding. Do you remember someone dropped the top tier and it had to be completely redone?’

  Sarah grinned. ‘Of course I remember. You were in a complete panic.’

  ‘I was not. Now, I wonder if there’s anyone we know who could help Maria …’

  This was Hope’s chance to speak. She had been mulling it over since Maria’s visit. She still felt hurt by the attitude of the village to her and her family’s secrets. The fact that so many people had watched her and said nothing. But she felt she should offer. ‘I’ve done a fair bit of dressmaking in my time. I suppose, if they thought I was good enoug
h, I could see if I could help out with the dresses …’

  Susie clapped her hands. ‘Of course. Why didn’t I think of that?’

  ‘I’m sure they’d really appreciate it,’ said Sarah. ‘You’re so clever with your fingers. Have you had the chance to do much sewing recently?’

  ‘Actually, I have done a little.’ Hope thought of the almost-finished dress she had upstairs in her room, the one destined for Megan. She had stopped working on it when Susie dropped her bombshell. ‘Actually, I started making a dress for Megan. She might not like it, but I felt like doing something with my hands. If you want, we can go up and have a look at it after lunch.’

  ‘A dress for me?’ said the little girl, blue eyes wide with excitement. ‘A proper dress just for me?’

  ‘Yes. It’s nothing too fancy, and if you don’t like it you must just say, it’s not a problem.’

  ‘That’s really kind of you,’ said Susie, putting a hand on Hope’s arm. She looked relieved. She probably thought this meant Hope had forgiven her. And, to some extent, Hope supposed it did. After all, it wasn’t Susie’s fault her mother had kept that secret.

  Chapter Eleven

  There were many tasks around the farm Robbie loved doing. Cutting and bailing the hay, for example, was something he’d willingly volunteer for. Milking, on the other hand, he had never enjoyed, and now he had to do it once if not twice a day for weeks to come. He was seriously regretting his offer to help out.

  In the last few years, Luke had taken over responsibility for most of the milking chores. This meant, unfortunately, they now fell to Robbie. His father helped out in the morning, being naturally an early riser, but the afternoon milking was Robbie’s job entirely. This made it marginally better, as there was less chance of arguments. But really, standing for what seemed like hours in the milking parlours bored him to tears. He preferred to be out in the hills, checking on the plants and the water courses and breathing in the clean air.