The Legacy of Lochandee (7 page)

‘And I'll let you know what Ross thinks. Thank you, Nick, for listening, and for being so understanding.'

Chapter Seven

R
OSS HAD PLAYED THE
fiddle since he was big enough to hold one. Playing came as naturally to him as singing did to Bridie, so he was bitterly disappointed when Ewan showed no inclination to learn the piano accordion, or any other musical instrument. While Ross did his best to persuade his younger son to practise, Ewan considered every moment spent indoors as time wasted.

‘Look, it goes like this.' Ross played a few notes to illustrate the tune and then a few more. ‘Remember, you have to play with the proper fingers as Mr Urquhart teaches you. Lucy was watching them intently. She longed to take the accordion from Ewan and have a go herself. Even though she couldn't read the music as he was learning to do, she was sure she could imitate the tune which Mr Maxwell had just played.

When the telephone rang Ross sighed and went to answer it.

‘Let me have a go, Ewan?' Lucy pleaded. Ewan needed no persuading and quickly wriggled out of the straps, placing them over Lucy's slender shoulders. Slowly she began to finger the keys, experimenting, playing a bit of the tune, and then a bit more, listening intently to each note.

‘That's a lot better …' Ross began when he returned to the kitchen. He stopped and stared. ‘Surely that wasn't you playing, Lucy?' Her small face went red and she looked near to tears.

‘I-I'm s-sorry, Mr Maxwell. I only wanted a wee go …'

‘Och, don't be sorry, lassie.' Ross smiled with delight. ‘You can play the notes better than Ewan and you haven't had a single lesson, have you?'

‘N-no. Daddy says he can't afford to buy me an accordion or pay for lessons.'

‘Let me hear you play the tune again.'

Lucy struggled with the notes, then a few more, then a few more still.

‘Do you know the tune, Lucy?'

‘Aye, it's called
Roamin' in the Gloamin
. Daddy's always humming it to Mum when he's in a good mood.' She tried again and this time the tune was almost complete. Ross was astonished.

‘Do you know any more tunes, Lucy?'

‘Daddy hums
I Love a Lassie
, as well.' Stumbling slightly, she picked out the notes, slowly, then more confidently as she got the hang of it. ‘What are the wee buttons for, Mr Maxwell? And why has one got a dimple in it?'

‘They're the chords, like playing two or three notes at once to fill in the background. You'd need lessons for them, I think.'

‘Yes.' Lucy sighed resignedly, knowing that was impossible. She wriggled out of the straps, turning to hand the accordion back to Ewan, but he had seized his chance and disappeared outside.

When Ross met Beth crossing the yard to the dairy with a bucket of milk he stopped to tell her how good Lucy was with the accordion.

‘She has a natural ear for music. It's a pity she can't go for lessons with Ewan.' He was surprised when Beth seemed more alarmed than pleased by Lucy's musical talents.

‘Harry has put his foot down,' she said sharply. ‘He has set his heart on saving up for Lucy to go to college. He wants her to be a teacher and earn a decent living. He hasn't been himself lately, so I'm not going to pester him about music lessons.'

‘Is Harry ill, Beth?' Ross had known her since she had come to Glens of Lochandee as a little maid of 14, even before he and Rachel were married.

‘No, I don't think so, but he
never
snaps at Lucy, and he had her in tears the other night because she kept on about music lessons. Apart from a bit of indigestion sometimes, he must be as fit as a fiddle, the way he rides that bike o' his to work in all weathers. He's just been a bit tired and irritable lately.'

‘Maybe he's doing too much extra work for Conan at weekends?'

‘Och, he likes working at the garage. Anyway, he never turns down a chance to make an extra half-crown. He says when Conan buys another bus, he'll give up his job and work at the garage all the time. Sometimes he takes Lucy with him on a Saturday. Conan has been showing her how to work the petrol pumps. He told her he would give her a job in the school holidays when she's 12. Now she can't wait!' she sighed. ‘It's going to be a long three years!'

‘I'm tired of finding excuses for Ewan,' Rachel announced crossly the following evening. ‘He doesn't bother to practise. If you want him to keep going with his music you'll have to take him yourself, Ross.'

‘All right. I'll ask Mr Urquhart how he's progressing while I'm there. I expect that's why we had to pay the money for a term in advance. He'll just have to stick at it.' Ewan groaned aloud at that and pulled a long face.

‘I never asked for an accordion,' he pouted. ‘And I never wanted to go for lessons either.'

‘It's a wonderful opportunity,' Rachel coaxed. ‘When you get good at it you could go to entertain at the concerts with your father, like Bridie and Nick do sometimes.'

‘I don't want to entertain at concerts. I don't like music. I want to be a farmer.'

Rachel shrugged. It was true; Ewan had shown not the slightest inclination towards music. Ross had longed for one of his sons to take after himself, but Conan had never been interested in music either.

Mr Urquhart hesitated when Ross asked his opinion. The old man needed the money he earned from teaching pupils, but he had known almost immediately that Ewan was never going to be a really good accordion player.

‘If you want my honest opinion, Mr Maxwell, Ewan hasna much natural inclination and he doesna want music enough to work at it.' Ewan turned red. He thought his father would be furious. He didn't know his mother had already guessed what the verdict would be and she had reasoned with Ross over it.

‘Well, I can't say I'm not disappointed,' Ross admitted now, ‘but I can understand it must be hard work teaching a reluctant pupil. I don't suppose you would consider giving a few lessons to a little girl for the rest of the term, in Ewan's place? I think you'd find her much keener to learn, and unless I'm a bad judge, she has a natural ear for music. Goodness knows where she gets it from, as neither of her parents is musical.'

‘I'm sure I can take your word for the child, Mr Maxwell. It's a bit unusual but I suppose I could take her for the next few weeks. Who is she?'

‘Her name is Lucy Mason. She's the same age as Ewan …'

‘She's three weeks younger than me,' Ewan interrupted indignantly.

‘Don't interrupt,' Ross said sharply. ‘Her mother was old Mr Turner's granddaughter. You may remember he had the bicycle shop in Lochandee village before the war. Beth has worked at Glens of Lochandee since she left school.'

‘Aye, I remember Mr Turner,' Mr Urquhart smiled. ‘He made me a good bike from his parts. It's still in the shed round the back. All right then, I'll try the wee lassie.'

When Ewan triumphantly announced that he was finished with the music lessons and that Lucy was to go in his place for the rest of the term she danced with joy, but Beth stared at Ewan in dismay. Her face went bright pink, then so white that even Ewan noticed and asked if she was going to be sick. Beth shook her head mutely, but she felt sick in the pit of her stomach. Most of the time she lived a happy and contented life with a husband she loved dearly and a small daughter who was their pride and joy. But sometimes she had a nightmare feeling that someone would guess her secret. She knew it was impossible really, though that did not stop the cold fingers which could clutch at her heart at an unexpected word or a smile, bringing memories flooding into her mind.

‘We don't want charity,' she said to Rachel as soon as she saw her.

‘It's nothing to do with me, Beth, but I assure you it's not charity. The lessons are paid for anyway and the accordion would just be a constant reminder of Ewan's failure and Ross's disappointment. I hope Lucy gets enough lessons to teach her the basics. If she does, she can keep the accordion, if she wants it. Let her have a go and you'll please all three of them. You know how much I hate tension between the men in my family. We had enough of that when Conan wanted to join the RAF against his father's will.'

‘Aye, I-I remember,' Beth stammered, her cheeks burning again, then paling.

‘Are you all right, Beth?' Rachel frowned in concern.

‘Aye, I'm fine. 'Spect it's my age,' she mumbled, ‘making me hot …'

Rachel nodded, accepting her explanation. ‘At least Ewan is desperate to farm so that pleases Ross.'

‘Aye, he reminds me of Bridie when she was that age. Have they set a date for the wedding yet?'

‘Not exactly but they thought it would be the end of September. The new house should be nearly finished by then and the hay and harvest will be over. Nick is planning to take Bridie away for a honeymoon – somewhere right away from Lochandee he says, but it's to be a surprise. I hope Bridie agrees. She's never been away to stay.'

‘Och, she should take the chance while she can. Once they settle down with a family and the farm they'll be tied here for years.'

‘You're right, and things have changed since the war finished. The days are gone when people got married in the morning and came home to milk the cows and carry on as usual.'

Rachel had received no word from Mr Murray and, with a sinking heart, she was beginning to accept that Ross had been right. Eventually she had told him she had asked the furniture-restorer to take away her treasured vase to have it properly valued, and to sell it if his own opinion was verified. Ross didn't believe an ornament could be worth nearly enough money to build a house and his heart swelled with love for Rachel. He feared she would be bitterly disappointed and he loved her with all his old gentleness and passion by way of comfort. Her cheeks flushed as she remembered how gentle and loving he had been with her. Ross could still fill her with an all-consuming passion, just as he had when they were young, but now there was a deeper, gentler love – a slower more pleasurable pathway to the pinnacle of joy they shared together.

‘Dearest Rachel, I know how much that vase meant to you,' he had whispered against her throat. ‘I never thought you would part with it. I'm sorry your dreams of keeping all of us happy have been shattered.'

‘But it may just take longer than he thought …' She clung to her hopes and dreams. ‘If Mr Murray does get a good price for it, Ross, will you agree to us buying the house at Nether Rullion, instead of Nick?'

‘It's a big “if”, but of course I would. I don't know why we never thought of suggesting Nick should build it there before, especially now he doesn't need to waste good money buying a separate plot of land.'

‘No, but he is planning to use the extra cash to make the house a little bit bigger than he originally planned for himself and Bridie. So you'll agree to live there? You and me and Ewan – if I do get the money for the vase, I mean.'

‘Leave Glens of Lochandee!' Ross had never really considered the prospect seriously and Rachel knew he had just been humouring her. In spite of all their nights of tender loving she was not sure whether he would move if she really did get the dreamed-of fortune for the vase, but that possibility seemed more and more remote as time passed and there was not even a postcard from Mr Murray.

As it was, Nick had been granted the licence for the building materials and he had applied for the variation in the site and size. He expected to get permission to start building any day now.

Bridie had cheered a little at the prospect of living at Nether Rullion instead of at the garage.

‘But nothing will ever be the same as living here, at Glens of Lochandee,' she confided to Rachel. ‘I promised Aunt Alice I would never leave here. I don't think she would have left her share of the farm, the land and animals, to me if she had thought I would desert them.'

‘You're not deserting them, Bridie. Anyway I'm sure Alice would have wanted you to marry the man you love, and Nether Rullion is only a few miles away.'

‘I suppose so,' Bridie acknowledged uncertainly. ‘Did Conan tell you he's not very pleased with Nick for building a house away from the garage?'

‘I gathered there was some tension between them over it, but Conan does like things his own way. I'm sure he'll make a success of his business, but he'll have to learn to consider other people. After all, Nick has just as much at stake as Conan, and they are partners. I hate to admit it, but I think Nick has his feet more firmly on the ground.'

‘Less ambition, Conan calls it,' Bridie said glumly, recalling Nick's account of the argument. ‘I think he hoped Nick would always be there, on the spot, to deal with the repairs and orders and petrol, and all the little things that keep the business ticking over. Conan wants to concentrate on this dream of his to have buses driving up and down the country, full of grateful holidaymakers.'

‘Well, that won't happen until petrol comes off ration, and even then I expect the prices will rise.'

A week later, Nick drove into the yard in the old lorry they used for deliveries. He beeped the horn to alert Bridie's attention then he jumped from the cab and ran to greet her, scooping her up in his arms and swinging her round in his exuberance.

‘We've got it! Permission to start building our very own house!' Like Ross he had little hope of Bridie's mother selling her vase for more than a few pounds, but so long as he and Bridie had a home of their own somewhere – anywhere – he would be happy. He set her down and looked into her face, seeing her soft, smiling mouth only inches away. He found her irresistible and he kissed her long and hard. Bill Carr and Sandy Kidd were crossing the yard at that precise moment and both gave a whistle and wide grins. Bridie flushed to the roots of her hair. Underneath her capable exterior, she was incredibly shy. Nick chuckled at the sight of her pink cheeks.

‘I can hardly wait to discover if you blush all over, Bridie,' he whispered, his dark eyes dancing. Bridie's colour deepened even more. ‘Now there's a celebration tonight we'll be having. Do you want to go to the pictures, Bridie bach? Or shall we be really extravagant and go out for dinner?'