Fields of Blue Flax Read online

  ‘I’m looking for my family, they’ve been in an accident. My husband said he’d be here but I can’t see him.’ She steadied herself against the desk.

  ‘No problem, what’s the name?’

  ‘Christine.’

  The man raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Sorry. Wallace. Christine Wallace.’

  The man tapped on his keyboard then looked up. ‘Your daughter Anna’s still in x-ray but should be back soon in the ward at the end of that corridor there. But there’s a man – your husband, I presume? – in the day room just round the corner from here.’ He pointed his finger round to the left. ‘He’s with a policeman. Just knock and go in, Mrs Wallace.’

  As soon as she opened the door to the day room, Gerry rushed over and hugged her tightly. His beard tickled her skin and she sprang back, noticing as she did so how pale her husband was.

  ‘Chris, this is Sergeant Price.’

  Christine shook his hand as Gerry said, ‘Have a seat, we need to give some details.’

  ‘Where are they?’ Christine was abrupt. ‘I want to see them. Please.’

  ‘If you’d like to sit down, Mrs Wallace. I was just telling your husband…’

  ‘Why can’t we see them? The man said Anna’s in x-ray. Where’s Jack?’ Christine clutched her bag tight to her chest and stared at the men.

  ‘I’ve only seen Anna and she’ll be fine, they’re doing x-rays to check no bones’ve been broken, but we’ve not heard any more about Jack yet. There was talk of him going to intensive care.’

  ‘Well, can’t we ask someone? A doctor? A nurse?’ Christine was aware she was shouting, but couldn’t hold herself back. ‘I need to find out what’s happening. I need to know they’re okay.’

  There was a soft tap on the door. A slim woman with bobbed black hair, dressed in dark trousers and a white shirt, hurried in. She had dark shadows under her eyes.

  ’I’m Doctor Ali, from ITU. You must be Mr and Mrs Wallace. Please sit down.‘

  ‘How are they?’ Christine whispered.

  ‘You can see your daughter, I’ve just been to check on her. She’s fine, just a bit shaken up. She’s being wheeled back from x-ray right now. We’ll need to keep her in overnight, just a precaution, but she’s in the ward at the end of this corridor for now.’

  ‘And what about Jack?’ asked Gerry.

  Dr Ali’s beeper sounded, but she ignored it and continued, ‘We’re waiting for the results of his CT scan. He’s in an induced coma so we need to check a few more things then you can come up to us in intensive care to see him. Third floor.’ She glanced down at the beeper at her waist. ‘Give us half an hour?’ she said, and rushed from the room.

  ‘But what’s wrong with him?’ Christine shouted, as the door slammed shut.

  Sergeant Price broke the silence. ‘They don’t like to commit till they know more. Why don’t you see your daughter just now then you can go up and see your son later.’

  Christine nodded.

  ‘If you don’t mind, Mr Wallace, maybe you and I could finish here for just now. I’ll give you my contact details and the duty sergeant’s too. It’s a bank holiday weekend so we’re on skeleton staff but there’ll be someone there any time you need to speak.’

  Gerry and Christine sat motionless, listening.

  ‘My colleague’s got the bags, phones and all the things that were in the car. We’ll have to keep those for a bit.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Nothing to worry about, Mrs Wallace, just need to check a few things.’

  ‘I suppose that’s to check they weren’t on the phone when it happened?’ asked Gerry.

  ‘Of course they weren’t,’ said Christine. ‘They’re sensible drivers, and they’d never speed. Who was driving?’

  ‘Jack,’ said Gerry.

  ‘Well, it doesn’t matter who it was, they’re both good drivers.’ Christine stood up. ‘I’m going to see Anna.’ She glared at her bag where her phone was ringing. ‘Are you allowed to use phones in here, Sergeant?’

  ‘Here’s okay, but not in intensive care.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said as she headed for the door, delving into her bag and switching off her phone.

  Christine strode along the corridor and into the ward at the end. She scanned the patients in the beds until she saw Anna’s familiar shock of blonde curls at the far end. She rushed to the bed and threw her arms round her daughter.

  ‘Sweetheart, are you okay? Let me see you.’ Christine took a deep, shuddering breath as she looked at her daughter; she had two black eyes and her face was swollen and covered in livid purple bruises. ‘Oh, my poor baby.’

  Anna burst into tears as her mother pulled her gently into an embrace. ‘Mum, not so tight, I’m sore all over.’ She pulled down her hospital gown to reveal red and purple marks all over her chest.

  ‘What are those?’

  ‘Seatbelt burn marks, but it’s okay, I’m fine. What’s the news on Jack? I keep asking, but they aren’t telling me anything.’

  Christine took her daughter’s arm and stroked her hand. ‘We’ve to go and see the doctor in half an hour. I don’t know any more. What happened?’

  ‘I can’t remember much, but I managed to get out of the car from my door. Jack had to be cut out, his side was all mangled up. It was horrible, Mum.’ Anna started to cry again and Christine circled her arms round her and patted her back as if soothing her baby twenty years earlier.

  She looked up to see Gerry appear in the doorway. He hurried over to his wife and daughter. He grasped his daughter’s hand and tears trickled down his cheeks.

  Chapter Six

  1876

  ‘Mrs Donaldson,’ Elizabeth said, bobbing a curtsey at the door, ‘can I speak to you for a moment, please?’

  The lady of the house sat gazing out of her drawing room window. ‘Of course, Elizabeth.’ She beckoned with an imperious finger. ‘But draw nearer so that you might see the seals over there.’

  She pointed outside to the sand banks dotted with grey seals. The view from the drawing room was the best in the house. Elizabeth often stood entranced by it when she was supposed to be cleaning the room. She gazed over the lush garden of flowers and well-tended shrubs. She had asked the gardener the names of her favourites: the purply-red flowering currants, the cerise camelias and, in the middle of the lawn, a beautiful milky-blossomed magnolia tree. Beyond this the River Tay stretched below, over to the rolling hills of Fife. This view was never the same. Today the water was shimmering through a pale summery haze.

  ‘Look,’ said Mrs Donaldson. ‘I have been counting. I think there are some thirty seals on that bank there.’

  Elizabeth peered out at the estuary. ‘I’ve never seen as many, Madam. Is it because the weather’s sae – so – warm?’

  ‘Perhaps it is. What a life that must be, lolling around on those sand banks, bathing in the warm sunshine. Imagine how wonderful that would be, Elizabeth.’

  Aye, you’d fair like that, you and your afternoon naps and pampering a’ day long, thought Elizabeth.

  ‘I try to imagine how our magnificent new railway bridge might affect the view of those poor people who live within the city. At least here on the outskirts it will not alter our vista towards the Kingdom of Fife.’ She raised an elegant hand towards the east. ‘They have built most of the girders already. I fancy it will be a fine sight when we see trains on it. Mr Donaldson tells me that the rail ferries to Broughty Ferry will cease within two years and then we will see the very first train steaming over the bridge.’

  ‘It’s a miracle, Madam.’ Elizabeth looked out at the high girders. ‘I have never been on a train.’

  ‘No, no, of course not,’ said Mrs Donaldson, straining her neck to see further. ‘Dundee shall be the talk of dining tables across the country; it is to be the longest railway bridge in the whole world. There is even talk that Her Majesty the Queen will attend the grand opening.’ She sighed. ‘Although I personally believe she will not come. How many more years can she
continue to mourn her husband?’ Mrs Donaldson looked up at Elizabeth. ‘But you had something to say to me?’

  ‘Yes, Madam,’ she said, clasping her hands together in front of her. ‘You remember I said I knew someone who was ready to join me in service?’

  ‘Ah yes,’ her mistress mumbled, stifling a yawn. It was nearly time for her afternoon nap. ‘Well?’

  ‘I was wondering if she might be considered for the post here when Mollie Andrews leaves to get married? It’s my sister Jane.’

  ‘Ah, now why did I have the impression you had neither brother nor sister? Well, perhaps she could come to see us one day soon and we can decide if she is suitable.’

  ‘Thank you, Madam.’

  Mrs Donaldson stood up and smoothed down her grey taffeta gown. Elizabeth could not help but look at her waistline where the tiny black buttons were straining. Surely she couldn’t be expecting again, the wee one was still a baby.

  Her mistress looked at the vase of tall flowers on the little table beside her and bent over, leaning towards the ivory petals. She inhaled deeply. ‘Exquisite. What an aroma. I’ve asked the gardeners to cultivate more of those scented roses; beautiful, are they not?’

  Elizabeth nodded.

  ‘Not dissimilar in colour to the magnolia you like so much.’

  Elizabeth smiled and waited for her mistress to return to the topic.

  ‘So, back to your sister. Perhaps you could take on the superior role of house maid and if we deem your sister suitable, she could become scullery and laundry maid, helping Cook with menial tasks in the kitchen? We might need you to continue as table maid, depending on how I find your sister in terms both of appearance and speech.’ She stopped fingering the rose petals and stood up straight. ‘But that might leave you more time to help Cook with the food preparation. She tells me you are skilled in the kitchen?’

  ‘Thank you, Madam.’

  ‘Good. This household is about to become even busier. We are hoping to employ a governess soon.’

  ‘That will be good for the children, Madam.’

  As Elizabeth turned to go out, the sound of a piano could be heard. She tilted her head and listened to the rhythmic melody. ‘Is that Miss Traves playing the piano, Madam?’

  ‘Yes, it is. Roberta is having her first lesson today so I asked the teacher to play some pieces to her to start with, to try to encourage a love of music. Though I doubt that, aged eight, she will manage anything as splendid as this Mendelssohn.’

  ‘Chopin.’

  ‘I beg your pardon, Elizabeth?’

  ‘Sorry, Madam, I am mistaken. You are right, of course, but it sounded like Chopin to me.’

  ‘Might I ask how you know about piano composers? Surely you do not play yourself?’ She drew herself up tall.

  ‘No, Madam, but my mother did.’ Elizabeth curtsied and left the room.

  The following week, in the same room, Mrs Donaldson sat at her bay window seat, gazing out at the rain-drenched gardens as Elizabeth ushered in a small, slight girl.

  ‘Mind what I said aboot speaking proper,’ she muttered, then turned towards the window and inclined her head. ‘Madam, this is my sister Jane.’

  Jane bobbed an exaggerated curtsey and smiled. Mrs Donaldson looked the girl up and down, taking in her lank, straight brown hair and her freckles. She looked rather plain beside her statuesque sister, but was not entirely unpleasing to the eye. She would probably do at table, eventually, though that hair would need to be seen to.

  ‘Elizabeth, if you can leave us for a short time, I should like to conduct my interview with Jane alone. Please wait outside.’

  After some questions about her experience, Mrs Donaldson stood up and said, ‘Well, Jane, you can go and find your sister outside in the hall. I will let you know of my decision soon.’

  And as she opened the door, there again was the sound of the piano, this time not the mellifluous notes of the teacher playing, but Roberta, practising a scale badly, with a heavy hand.

  ‘Elizabeth tells me your mother played?’

  ‘Played, Madam?’

  ‘The piano, child.’

  Jane frowned. ‘Oh I dinnae… Sorry, I do not think so, Madam.’ And she bobbed once more and shut the door behind her.

  Chapter Seven

  2014

  Mags turned the key in the lock and tilted her head to one side. She could hear the piano. Thank God, he was home.

  ‘Doug!’ she shouted, running to the dining room. ‘You’ll never guess what’s happened.’

  He turned round, broad shoulders hunched over the keys, both hands raised, hovering. ‘What?’

  ‘Jack and Anna have been in an accident. Chris texted me but I can’t get through to her. I’ve tried Gerry but his phone’s off.’

  Doug stared at her and leant back on the piano stool. His face had turned deathly white. ‘Are they okay?’ he whispered.

  ‘I don’t know. All Chris said was the kids had had an accident and she and Gerry were going down to Newcastle immediately. You try Gerry!’

  Doug darted past her and into the kitchen where his phone lay on the table. ‘There’s a new message!’ He tapped at his phone, his jaw clenched. ‘It’s not Gerry, just work.’

  ‘Phone Gerry!’ Mags dumped her basket on the table and fished inside for her phone. ‘I’m going to try Chris again.’

  But Christine’s phone was switched off. ‘I wonder if Lottie’s heard from Anna?’ said Mags, lifting the phone back to her ear.

  ‘Lottie, darling, have you heard from Anna?’ As Mags explained what had happened, she moved to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of wine. ‘Can you pop round after your lesson’s finished? Okay, see you soon as you can, darling.’ Mags hung up and reached for a wine glass on the drying rack.

  ‘What are you doing?’ said Doug. ‘We might have to drive to Newcastle. Put the kettle on instead!’

  ‘Put the bloody kettle on yourself, I need a drink.’

  ‘I’m going to find out the names of the hospitals in Newcastle and phone round, find out where they are.’ He opened his laptop and typed ‘A&E Newcastle’ into Google.

  An hour later, Lottie rushed into the kitchen. ‘Any news?’

  Mags put down her glass and hugged her daughter.

  ‘Gerry’s just phoned Dad, but there’s not much more. They were on their way to intensive care. Said they’d text.’ She motioned towards the wine bottle. ‘Want a glass?’

  ‘God, Mum, it’s only four o’clock. I’ll make myself a green tea.’

  Doug hugged his daughter tightly then went to fill the kettle. ‘They’re at the Royal Victoria hospital in Newcastle. I think we should get down there right now but Mum says Auntie Chris won’t want us.’

  ‘I didn’t say she won’t want us, but she’ll be so stressed, it’s best with someone like her to wait. Besides, Gerry said there’s nothing we can do, not until they know what’s happening.’

  ‘Well, I think we should just drive down anyway. That way, if anything happens, if they need us, we’ll be there.’ Doug rubbed his hands through his hair. ‘I can’t stand being stuck up here like this, just waiting.’

  Mags glowered at him then turned to her daughter, ‘Darling, don’t you agree with me? We should wait, shouldn’t we?’

  ‘I don’t know, don’t make me take sides as usual.’

  Mags took her hand. ‘Sorry, darling, we’re just undecided. Gerry said Chris is too distraught to speak to us, and we don’t want to tip her over by pitching up. You know what she’s like, Lotts.’ She sighed. ‘But we don’t know how the kids really are. What exactly did Gerry say?’

  ‘He couldn’t say anything except Anna was black and blue. He had no idea how Jack was.’ Doug bit his lip and turned away from his wife and daughter, his eyes glistening.

  ‘Let’s go,’ said Lottie. ‘Dad’s right. If anything happens to them… Just for moral support?’

  Mags stood up. ‘Okay, I’ll pack an overnight bag.’

  Doug went to the back doo
r and pulled the snib along at the top.

  ‘Mum, why don’t we take some food too, some of your flapjacks or brownies?’

  ‘Good idea.’ Mags bustled over to the other side of the kitchen and lifted a cake tin down from the shelf. She glanced at Doug and Lottie’s backs then at the bottle on the table. She upended it into her glass, tipped her head back and slugged the wine down.

  Chapter Eight

  1874

  Elizabeth Barrie adjusted her bonnet and rang the bell at the back of the big house. The door creaked open and a plump woman wearing all black with a white apron and small lace cap greeted her.

  ‘The mistress is waiting for you,’ she said. ‘Whit d’you ken aboot the job?’

  ‘It’s a maid-of-all-work, but maybe helping in the kitchen? I heard Mrs Donaldson likes to sometimes dae some cooking for herself?’

  ‘It’s the “mistress” tae you. An’ I wouldnae exactly call it cookin’. She has these queer recipes wi’ fancy French names but Cook refuses to mak’ anythin’ she cannae pronounce.’ The woman, who looked in her late twenties, had a scowl on her face. As Elizabeth followed her into the house she noticed that she was not, in fact, fat. She realised this must be Meg, whose job she was hoping to take over when she left to have her baby.

  ‘Excuse me,’ Elizabeth whispered, as they traversed the wide expanse of polished black and white tiles in the hall, ‘are you Meg?’

  ‘Aye,’ she said, still surly.

  ‘Meg, is there anything I need to ken before I see the mistress?’

  Meg studied Elizabeth’s face and said, ‘She’ll be fine wi’ the way you look. Just mak’ sure you speak proper.’

  She knocked on the door and announced, ‘Elizabeth Barrie, Madam,’ and shuffled backwards out of the door.

  An elegant lady in a striped gown of violet silk, her auburn hair tied in a neat bun at the nape of her neck, stood up from a seat by the wide bay window.