Settling the Account (28 page)

When the funeral was over and Jack had been
laid to rest beside his Annie, it seemed the depths of Amy’s grief
had been plumbed and she could start the slow climb back from the
darkness. The weariness of misery began to slip away, and she
became more conscious of those around her.

Charlie had barely spoken to her since
Jack’s death, confining himself to occasional muttered comments
about ‘bawling women’. Once she had recovered sufficiently to take
any notice of him, Amy was grateful for his silence. Forbearing to
berate her was the closest thing to kindness she was likely to see
from Charlie. Malcolm, she knew, would be missing his grandfather,
but she gave up after a few hesitant attempts to talk to the boy.
Contempt for his mother had been too firmly fixed in his mind after
years of hearing her reviled by Charlie for him to be willing to
share his feelings with her.

David was silent, too, and this puzzled Amy.
She slowly grasped that he had become shy of her; afraid of making
her more unhappy by anything he might say. She had not realised
just how much she had missed him until David, seeing that she was
no longer likely to burst into tears without warning, began once
again to share with her the small details of his day.

‘You’ve got home quickly, Dave, you must
have ridden really fast,’ Amy said one afternoon two weeks after
the funeral when David came into the kitchen out of breath.

‘I did. I… I wanted to see you for a bit,
Ma,’ he said, looking down at his feet.

‘I’ll get you some milk and cakes while you
put your working clothes on, then we can have a little afternoon
tea, just you and me. Hurry up, though, Mal’s already gone down to
fetch the cows in, so we haven’t got all that long.’

David was soon back, his shirt untucked and
several buttons left undone in his haste.

‘Look at you, Dave!’ Amy said, smiling at
the state he was in. ‘There’s not that much of a rush. Here, I’ll
sort you out.’ She tidied his clothes, and finished by running a
smoothing hand over his hair, which had gone awry during the
process of getting changed. ‘There, you look nice now.’ She took
the opportunity to plant a swift kiss on his cheek.

David sat down at the table and took a gulp
of milk. ‘You look sort of… happier today, Ma.’

‘Well, I suppose I couldn’t stay that
miserable forever, could I?’ Amy tried to sound light, but her
voice betrayed her with a slight catch.

‘I don’t like it when you’re sad,’ David
said.

‘I know, darling. I’m sorry if I’ve upset
you. But I loved Grandpa a lot, you see, and I miss him. I can’t
help being sad when I think about him.’

‘Grandpa was nice,’ David said. ‘He never
used to get wild.’

‘Well, I suppose he must have sometimes. I
only remember nice things about him, though. It’s like there aren’t
any bad things to remember.’ Amy slipped an arm around David and
pulled him close to lean on her shoulder. ‘When I think about when
I was a little girl,’ she said, as much to herself as to him, ‘it
seems like no one was ever horrible to me, or frightened me. I had
Mama and Granny—I only remember Mama a tiny bit, but I know she was
nice. Mama and Granny died, but Pa was still there. He was always
there to look after me, you see. And now he’s not there any more,
it’s like… well, it’s like I can’t ever be a little girl any more.
It’s all gone away.’

‘But you’re grown up, Ma,’ David said,
sounding confused.

‘I know, Davie.’ She gave him a squeeze, and
released him. ‘That doesn’t stop me being silly, does it? I
wouldn’t have you if I was still a little girl. Now, tell me why
you were in such a hurry to get home today.’

David toyed with a biscuit. ‘It’s ’cause of
tomorrow. I didn’t want to leave it till then, though, because you
said you had to go over to Grandpa’s place.’

‘That’s right, I do. The lawyer’s coming out
from town to explain about Grandpa’s will, and Uncle John said he
wanted me to come over for it.’

‘So by the time you get back Pa and Mal
might be here, too. I thought if I got home early today, I might
see you before Mal comes up… or Pa. Mal might throw off at me if he
finds out.’

‘What about, Dave? And what’s so particular
about tomorrow, that you specially wanted to see me then?’

David looked stricken. ‘It’s your birthday,
isn’t it? I thought it was tomorrow.’

‘Is it? I suppose it is,’ Amy said in mild
surprise. ‘I haven’t been thinking about the date just lately.
Anyway, I’m too old to worry about birthdays any more.’

‘I wanted to buy you something, but I
haven’t got any money.’

‘Oh, Dave, you don’t have to buy me
anything! You remembering’s enough of a present.’

‘But I did want to, Ma. Something nice, so
you wouldn’t be so sad any more.’ He looked down at the floor for a
moment before meeting her eyes again. ‘You know how the girls have
to do sewing at school?’

‘Yes, I remember that. I used to get
annoyed, the way we only had half as much time on arithmetic as the
boys because of doing needlework. I was always trying to get
through my sewing really fast so I wouldn’t miss out on the
work.’

‘Beth does hers quite fast. She finished the
last thing early, and Miss Metcalf said she had to make another one
the same.’

‘Poor Beth! It’s boring sewing the same
thing over and over.’

‘She said she didn’t mind. She said I could
have it, so I’d have something to give you. But Beth said could it
be from her as well, because she made it,’ David added
conscientiously. ‘I’ve been catching her horse after school every
day to pay her back, but it’s an easy horse to catch.’

He reached into his pocket and pulled out a
small package, painstakingly wrapped in a square of gingham fabric
and tied with leftover lengths of ribbon. ‘Beth wrapped it up, too.
Happy birthday, Ma.’ He held his package out shyly.

‘Oh, Davie! I don’t expect presents! Thank
you, darling—and you must thank Beth for me, too.’ She began
carefully unwrapping the little package.

‘I hope you’ll like it, Ma.’

‘I’m sure I will.’ Amy untied the last knot
and folded back the cloth to reveal a square of embroidered canvas,
daintily stitched with a pattern of flowers, and with a few words
cross-stitched in the centre.

‘ “
Mother is the Heart of
our Home,”
 
’ Amy read aloud. She
swallowed hard against the lump that had formed in her
throat.

‘Do you like it?’ David asked anxiously.

Amy reached out and drew him close again.
‘Davie, I think it’s the nicest present anyone’s ever given me.
Thank you, darling.’ She kissed him on the mouth, and felt his lips
pressed soft and warm against hers.

‘Don’t tell Mal,’ David said when she
released his mouth. ‘He’ll think it’s soft. And Pa might go crook,
too.’

‘I won’t tell anyone. It’ll be our secret.
I’ll keep it in my bedroom—I’m going to put it on my chest of
drawers, so I’ll see it as soon as I wake up. I wish I could get a
frame for it.’

‘Uncle Frank put the other one Beth made in
a frame for Aunt Lizzie,’ David said. ‘She’s put that one in the
bedroom, Beth said. She’s got one just the same that Maudie made,
that one’s in the parlour.’

‘And I suppose in a few years she’ll have
another one, when Rosie’s old enough for sewing,’ Amy said,
smiling. ‘All those daughters of hers! I’ve just got you, Davie.
And Mal, of course.’
But Mal doesn’t love me like Davie does. He
doesn’t even like me very much
.

David turned away to take another biscuit.
Amy studied the smooth curve of his cheek. With his long, dark
lashes and full lips, he could almost have been a girl if it were
not for the hair cropped too short for his curls to show.
Such a
pretty baby Davie was
. But was it David she was remembering? Or
the little one she had had for those few weeks?
Ann. Do you give
presents to your new mother to show her how you love her? Does she
tell you how clever you are? Does she love you?

A noise close to the back door made them
both jump. Amy hastily thrust her present and its wrappings into
her apron pocket. ‘That’ll be your pa—you’d better go out before he
comes looking for you.’ David stood up to leave, and Amy went into
her bedroom to install the embroidered square in pride of place on
her chest of drawers.

*

‘Is it all right if I go next door now?’ Amy
asked Charlie the following afternoon. ‘Mr Jamieson’s coming out,
remember? You said I could go.’

‘That’s right, the lawyer fellow. I suppose
so. Don’t know what they want you for.’

Amy shrugged. ‘John said he wanted the whole
family together for it. I don’t suppose it’ll take long.’

‘There’s maybe some trinkets of your ma’s
the old fellow’s left you. Aye, that’s probably it.’

‘I don’t think so. There was Granny’s
brooch, but I’ve already got that. Mama didn’t have any jewellery
of her own, except her wedding ring. I remember Pa saying that was
the only jewellery he could ever buy her.’ She twisted the ring
that had formed a groove in her finger over the years she had worn
it. ‘I’ve got her wedding ring, too.’

‘Aye, your pa wanted you to have that. Saved
me wasting good money on a ring for you, anyway. Well, Lord knows
why they want you there, but you’d better go or one of those
brothers of yours will turn up looking for you. See you’re back in
time to get dinner on, mind.’

‘I will.’

‘It’ll be interesting to see how your pa’s
left the farm,’ Charlie said thoughtfully. ‘What with four sons to
split it over. See if you can follow what the lawyer says about
that. I doubt if you’ll fathom it, though.’

‘I’ll see if I can manage, if it’s not too
hard for me.’ Amy turned her back on him and set out for her old
home.

The lawyer was already there, seated in the
chair opposite John’s, when Amy came into the parlour. Mr Jamieson
had seemed an old man to her when she had been a little girl, but
the intervening years did not seem to have left any mark on him.
His white hair was as thick as it had been then, and his shoulders
no more stooped. He rose when she walked into the room and shook
her hand, murmuring condolences that were an echo of those he had
already given her at Jack’s funeral.

The house was full of her father’s presence;
every corner of it brought some memory. Even the sight of John
sitting in their father’s old chair close to the fireplace seemed
incongruous, and Amy half-expected Jack to come into the room and
give his oldest son a sharp telling-off for his impertinence. But
Susannah’s black dress and her own mourning outfit, as well as the
black arm bands worn by the men, were a sombre reminder of what
they were all there for.

Harry beckoned her to the place beside him
on the couch, well away from the chair Susannah had chosen, while
Thomas and George made do with two footstools. There was no sign of
Sophie; Amy guessed that she had gone to spend the afternoon with
Jane, keeping her condition out of sight of their visitor.

Mr Jamieson took his seat again, then
cleared his throat and placed a hand on the document that lay on a
small table beside him.

‘Now that Mrs Stewart has arrived, we’ll
make a start, if you don’t mind?’ He looked around the room,
checking that he had everyone’s attention. ‘Mr Leith’s will is
quite straightforward—he was clear about what he wanted, my only
contribution was putting his wishes into the correct form. You’ll
all have the chance to study this copy in detail when I’ve gone,
but I’d just like to explain the main points, while you’re all
together. Mr Leith…’ he fell silent for a moment, then gave them a
rather sad smile. ‘Jack,’ he corrected himself, ‘asked me to do
that the last time he came into my office before he passed away.
I’d known Jack a long time. Since before you were born, Mrs
Stewart—not that that’s so very long ago,’ he amended hastily.

He picked up the will, glanced at it as if
to check that his recollection was accurate, then replaced it on
the table.

‘Thomas and George won’t come of age for
some years yet.’ The two boys exchanged a wary glance at being
mentioned by name. ‘Jack decided Mrs Leith should be their legal
guardian until that time.’ Amy saw George pull a face, but Thomas’s
expression was unfathomable.

‘Of course I am,’ Susannah murmured. Mr
Jamieson studied her thoughtfully, as if weighing his words.

‘Jack considered the options for some time,’
he contented himself with saying. ‘Well, to get on to the estate
itself. It consists entirely of this farm, along with the livestock
and equipment that goes with it. The farm has been left jointly and
equally to Jack’s sons. That is, half each to Mr John Leith and Mr
Harry Leith.’

Susannah gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘Do
you mean to say,’ she said in a tightly controlled voice, ‘that my
husband has left my sons out of his will?’

‘Not at all, Mrs Leith,’ Mr Jamieson
answered. ‘Your late husband was extremely anxious to do the right
thing by all the members of his family. He took care to provide for
your sons as well as he was able. We had some lengthy discussions
on the value of the farm, and the fairest way to share that value
out.’ He gave Susannah a long stare, as if assessing her likely
reaction to his next words.

‘He’s left the two boys the sum of two
hundred and fifty pounds each, to be held in trust until they come
of age. I’m one of the trustees for the bequests, and you are the
other, Mrs Leith.’

‘Two hundred and fifty pounds each,’
Susannah said tautly. ‘That’s considered a fair share for my sons,
is it?’

‘Yes, it is,’ Mr Jamieson said, meeting her
gaze coolly. ‘Based on the value of the farm, as well as I could
calculate that with the bank manager’s help, and taking into
account just how much longer John and Harry have spent working on
the property than their younger brothers have. There’s also the
fact that the farm would have to support four families in a few
years if it were divided up that way. Jack felt that giving the
younger boys their share in cash was the fairest way to go about
it.’