The Back of Beyond (31 page)

‘I'm sorry,' she whispered, deeply ashamed. ‘I was remembering something … I thought … you were somebody else.'

‘Obviously somebody who terrified you half to death. Tell me about it. It happened when you were quite young?'

She was still trembling. ‘Not quite sixteen, and I can't speak about it. To tell the truth, I'm not quite sure if it happened at all, or if it was just a horrible nightmare.'

‘It would help to tell me, whether or not it actually happened. You need to get it out of your system. Facing up to it should stop the nightmares for good.'

‘It was …' She stopped, shaking her head determinedly, knuckles white as she gripped the seat of her chair. ‘I can't speak about it. I can't!'

‘It's all right, don't force it. You seem to be at the limit of your endurance, and if you could only bring yourself to talk through it for me, I'd be better able to …' He stood up and unlocked one of the glass doors of the cabinet against the left-hand wall. ‘All I can do, meantime, is give you some tablets to help you to sleep.'

And they had for as long as they lasted, Lexie thought now, though they weren't as potent as the ones Doctor Birnie had given her all those years before – they had knocked her out in minutes. But now that she knew what her father had put her through – for it
had
been her father – she could understand why she couldn't bear to let anybody else near her in that way.

She couldn't even think of Alec Fraser as her father now, but it was no wonder he had cleared out of Forvit. He had abused her so badly as to make her bleed, actually torn her. How could they have faced each other after that?

1947–1949

Chapter 23

Waiting in Benview's large kitchen for David to come home from school, Gwen Ritchie wondered what had possessed her to come back. She had wanted to watch young Nicky growing up, even though it pulled at her heartstrings to be powerless to claim him as her son. Yet … probably it was best this way. Alistair was so unstable that, if they'd stayed in Lee Green, she couldn't have trusted him not to blurt out his suspicions to Dougal, and she'd have been duty-bound to confess the whole sorry tale. She couldn't let Marge take the blame for what
she
had done.

Although the move to Forvit had not been made without due consideration, it was effected far too quickly for her liking. Rosie, of course, was against them going, and so, too, was Peggy, who would have to take on some of the responsibility for her mother. Alf Pryor had said it wasn't his place to put forward an opinion, but, when pressed, he had admitted that he wouldn't mind cooking Rosie's meals again. It would leave Marge free to concentrate on her husband and son, and it would give him something to occupy his time other than tending the two gardens. He had come down firmly, if just a little shamefacedly, on the opposite side from his wife.

Marge had been torn between the need to have her sister next door for company and relief that she wouldn't be there to criticize the way she was bringing up Nicky. Dougal, as Alistair's close friend, had no inhibitions about voicing
his
opinion, and had urged him to jump at the opportunity and not be so bloody stupid.

As for the younger members of Rosie's flock, two-year-old Nicky's unnatural silences let everyone know how much he would miss his two ‘cousins', especially David, who had been teaching him all kinds of boys' games. David himself was keen to go back to Forvit, where he had left many friends and where there was space to roam around and act out the stories they read. Leila, however, was the one who astonished them. They had all expected her to prefer living in London because of the cinemas, dance halls and all manner of places where a young girl could meet the opposite sex, but when she was asked what she wanted, she said, ‘I'd like to go back to Forvit.'

Her grandmother had reminded her that she would be leaving school at summer – she would be fourteen in May – and that Forvit would have little to offer in the way of employment.

Dougal had got round that. ‘She can keep her father's books,' he crowed, then turning to Alistair, he went on, ‘Your best bet's to look for a place in Aberdeen. More chance of succeeding there, and it's only twenty-eight, twenty-nine miles. You could do it in under an hour if you bought a decent car.'

That Saturday evening, the day after he got Alice's letter, Alistair had replied that they would take up the offer of the house, and in two days, she wrote back to say how pleased she was and not to worry about anything.

‘We'll leave everything as it is,' she had continued, ‘furniture, dishes, the lot, so all you'll need to bring, apart from your wife and kids (ha-ha) is clothes and any personal things you feel you need.'

‘That's a blessing,' Alistair had grinned, ‘seeing we've never had any household goods of our own, anyway.' Then he had looked at Alf somewhat apologetically. ‘I nearly forgot. There's all the stuff you and your friend stored for us.'

Alf was an understanding man. ‘That's all right. The Salvation Army's always looking for things for the needy, so I'll ask them to collect it … unless you want to have a look through it first, in case there's something you want to keep?'

Rosie had given a sarcastic laugh. ‘There's nothing there worth a brass farthing. The furniture was second-hand when Tiny bought it.'

Three months later – the time it took for the Guthries' documents to come through from Australia House – the Ritchies had returned to Benview. The first three days were a sort of ‘handing-over' period, with Gwen helping Alice to turn out her cupboards. The men made a bonfire of the useless items from the outhouses and also burned what Alice was throwing out.

The final leave-taking had not been as emotional as Gwen had feared, though she should have remembered that the Scots were not as demonstrative as the English. The brother and sister hadn't even kissed each other's cheeks, yet they must have known it was most unlikely that they would ever see each other again.

And now, only two days on, it was as if she had never been away, except that there was no Marge to keep her from getting depressed. Being on her own every day from morning until David came bouncing in from school around five was like a punishment – likely
was
a punishment, and she shouldn't complain. After what she had done, she had got off lightly.

She couldn't get over how attitudes had changed in the village, however. Only one or two of the village women had ever spoken to Marge and her in any sort of friendly way before, and now they all smiled and commented on the weather, or said how glad they were to see them back as a complete family.

When she mentioned this to Alistair, he had said, ‘It's because you're here for good this time. They'd been timid of you and Marge before because you didn't belong and they couldn't understand what you were saying. When I went to London first, it sounded to me like they all spoke with a marble in their mouths and thought they were better than Dougal and me. So that's what the folk here had thought about you and Marge. No,' he added hastily, ‘I know you wouldn't have looked down on them, but …' He shrugged off the prejudices of the country folk.

Gwen sighed – she would never understand. It was Lexie Fraser, who had always been quite friendly, who now seemed to give her the cold shoulder. She had never asked about Alistair, yet during the war, her first question had always been, ‘How's Alistair? I saw you had a letter from him this morning,' or whenever. She looked much older, too, as if something dreadful was preying on her mind. It was a pity she couldn't meet a nice man. Marriage would do her the world of good.

Lexie watched Gwen Ritchie as she went out of the shop and cycled off. She didn't look as happy as she used to, but no doubt she hadn't wanted to come back to Forvit. What was there here for her, for goodness' sake? She, herself, would leave like a shot if she thought she could survive out in the big world, but she had a sense of security here, of being safe, as if something terrible would happen if she ventured out of her cocoon.

She had vowed, time and time again, never to think back, but she couldn't help it. She couldn't stop herself. It would haunt her for the rest of her life … or until her father came back and admitted what he had done. She had this other worry as well, now. Every time the doctor came into the shop, she could hardly bring herself to look at him, and he had done nothing wrong – that had been all in her mind. She had come perilously near to losing her sanity altogether at that time, and even if she was relatively calmer now, it wouldn't take much to push her over the edge.

Two other people she thought about sometimes were Nancy Lawrie and Margaret Birnie. She was sure that what Doodie Tough said about Mrs Birnie and another man couldn't be right, although Doctor Tom had told a few folk that she had never been totally happy in Forvit, and he had given in to her pleas to find a practice somewhere near Stirling so that she could look after her mother. She had gone on ahead of him, leaving him to attend to the sale of the house and the removal of their belongings. It had been a blow to the local community when he left, about three months after her father, and he'd been presented with a lovely gold watch in appreciation of his seven years' dedicated service.

It was a shame, really, because Mrs Birnie had been a lovely woman, a bit reserved maybe, but she'd likely just been shy. She'd been quite well-liked, had sung in the kirk choir and was president of the Guild, so folk couldn't understand why she hadn't been happy. Still, nobody knew what went on behind closed doors, did they? How a person behaved in private could be completely at odds with his or her public image.

Replacing the lid on a tin of the mixed biscuits she had been weighing out for Alistair's wife, Lexie's thoughts turned to Nancy Lawrie. She'd been so different from Margaret Birnie, a go-ahead girl, full of fun and always flirting with the boys. She wasn't the type of person Alec Fraser would be drawn to. He had been reserved and quiet … it was really just as unlikely that he had taken up with Nancy as that he had raped his daughter. An iciness clutching at the pit of her stomach, Lexie took a deep breath. If she carried on like this, they would haul her off to the nearest asylum and put her in a straightjacket …

Picking up her duster, she made a desultory attack on a side shelf. Gwen Ritchie didn't know when she was well off, that was her trouble. She didn't have a dark secret that ate at her very innards while she had to smile and pretend that nothing was wrong. Not only that, she had a lovely husband, two lovely children … everything that Lexie Fraser had ever wanted.

Leila Ritchie had walked past the house three times, hoping to catch a glimpse of Barry Mearns. She had always had a crush on him, from the first day he'd come to help with the garden, back in 1941 when she was just a little kid.

She wouldn't be a kid much longer, though she'd have to stay on another year at school because the leaving age had been raised to fifteen. The year after that, she would be old enough to get married in Scotland, so she had heard.

‘Well, well! It's young Leila, isn't it?'

She looked round in surprise to find the postman, Barry's father, regarding her with an expression she was just beginning to recognize. Since she'd started wearing nylons, the latest in stockings, and putting a touch of make-up on, men as well as boys had begun to look at her like she was good enough to eat, and she couldn't help flirting a little. ‘Yes, Mr Mearns, we're back. Dad's looking for a place in Aberdeen to open a jeweller's.'

‘So he was saying when I handed in his letters the other day. Barry was asking if I'd seen you, so. I'll need to tell him you're bonnier than ever. He's nearly finished his apprenticeship at Bill Rettie's garage in Bankside, but he still does a bit o' gardening in his spare time, so if your Dad needs some help …'

‘I'll tell him. I'd better be going, Mr Mearns, else Mum'll wonder where I've got to.'

‘She'll need to keep her eye on you, or the lads'll all be after you. Cheeribye, lass.' Sandy gave her a laughing salute as he turned away.

Leila walked off feeling very pleased with herself, retrieved her bicycle from where she had set it against the gable wall of the Jubilee Hall and sped along the road. Barry had asked about her! And his father thought she was bonnie – it sounded even better than being pretty. Coming up for fourteen was a perfect age to be!

Leila was even more pleased with herself that evening. Her father had come home in a state of high excitement. ‘I've found a wee place off Union Street!' he exulted. ‘It's not ideal, a wee bit cramped, but it's right in the heart of the city and it'll do till I get on my feet.'

All through their evening meal, he told them his plans, so animated that Leila glanced at her mother who was looking happier than she had done for some years – even before Dad came home from the war, really. He'd been different then, not like he'd been before, and she'd been as upset as her mother about that. Of course, he must have had some bad experiences, and it would have taken him a long time to get over them, so they should be grateful that he was getting back to normal, though it had taken a long time.

They had just finished eating when someone knocked at the porch door, and Leila, being nearest, went to open it. ‘Barry!' she gasped, her face flooding with colour.

The twenty-year-old was also embarrassed. ‘I've come to see if your father needs any help with the garden. Da said …'

Curiosity about the caller had brought Alistair into the porch, too, but the youth was a complete stranger to him. ‘You're a gardener, are you?'

‘He's Barry Mearns, the postman's son,' Leila explained.

‘I'm serving my time as a motor mechanic, Mr Ritchie.'

‘He helped Mum and Auntie Marge with this garden when we were here before,' Leila said shyly, ‘and he's really good, Dad.'

Feeling a sense of goodwill towards all men at that moment, Alistair smiled broadly. ‘A reference already? That's good enough for me, and I shouldn't think I'll have much time myself to spare on the garden for a few years yet, so when can you come?'

Barry cast a grateful glance at Leila. ‘I've been helping the doctor for the past few Mondays. He's wanting to change the whole layout of his garden, and we're digging out everything so he can start from scratch. The trouble is, he's often called away and I'm mostly on my own. Tuesdays, I tidy up at Mrs Wilkie's, and do a quick job on Lexie Fraser's wee square. Wednesdays …' he paused, then said, bashfully, ‘it's choir night. I don't like to let the minister down.'

Alistair nodded appreciatively. ‘Good lad.'

‘Thursdays,' Barry continued, ‘I've been giving my boss a hand to dig a foundation for a wash-bed he wants to put in, and a bigger area round the petrol pumps. That'll take another couple of months, maybe. I could manage you Fridays, though, if that's OK?'

‘Fine, but are you sure? You're not leaving yourself much time for enjoyment.'

‘There's not much to enjoy round here … up to now.' Barry shot another glance at Leila, whose face went crimson at what he was implying.

This was not lost on her father, who, however, decided to ignore it. ‘So you'll be here on Friday at …?'

‘I stop at five, so I can manage by six, if that's not too early.'

‘I probably won't be home, but you'll manage?'

‘I know where everything is, Mr Ritchie.'

‘Right! Shall we say … a couple of hours till we see how it goes?'