Fiona of Glenmorie Read online

  All possible systems were recyclable, rain water was collected at roof level, waste water was filtered through an extensive reed bed and returned to the stream running at the rear of the hillside. Fuel for the log burner, was gathered from the forest, sawed into sections, and piled on a sheltered side of the garden shed, under the overhanging roof.

  The large glass windows gleamed in the sun and the heat drew fragrant scents from the herb garden near the front patio.

  She breathed deeply. This was their home, their nest, their private life. There could be no more defined contrast between their two residences on the estate. She loved the Meco house and all the benefits it brought to her family.

  “Mum, I’m going to see if the green onions, the beets and parsley are up in my veg patch. Call me when Neil gets home.”

  Shona was off, her long legs propelling her through the herb garden and off to the greenhouse where tomatoes and other tender plants were started and where the elder children each had a vegetable garden.

  Fergus was not in sight. He would be visiting his ferrets, rabbits and guinea pigs housed in the shed.

  Fiona sat down on a lounge chair near the outdoor dining table. The beginnings of a meal had been prepared earlier so she could relax for a minute and read the note in private.

  Hi Fiona

  I am taking the chance to catch Fergus and send this note.

  I was looking into resources for alternative secondary schools in the area and came up with one interesting possibility for your super-artistic son.

  It’s a small campus for arts education of all kinds. It has a good reputation for graduating talented students who go on to professions in theatre, film and so on.

  If you and Gordon like the sound of this, I can put you in touch with the governors.

  There’s a couple of possible difficulties, however.

  One is the expense and the other is the location. Glengarry Collegiate is north of Fort William.

  Of course it’s yours and Gordon’s decision, but I talked to Steve and he could drive Fergus there on his way to his offices in Inverness.

  Hope some of this may be useful to you both.

  Best wishes from Rena.

  Fiona was re-reading the note for the third time when she heard the sound of the Land Rover approaching. Gordon and Neil were home.

  She tucked the note back in her pocket and rose to meet them. Neil would be tired, wet and hungry.

  His father; not much different.

  The busy evening hours were about to commence and the news from Rena would have to wait until later.

  Chapter Three

  Jeanette McLennan tapped on the door of her husband’s study. It took years to persuade him to do more work at home, rather than in his legal offices in Oban, but the result was not exactly as she had wanted. George now spent hours closeted behind closed doors leaving much of the household work to his wife and leaving little time and energy for their children, Liam and Annette.

  When she reached frustration level, she often made this excuse of bringing him a cup of tea in order to invade his inner sanctum.

  “George, dear, I brought tea for both of us. The children are busy watching television, or something similar. Mum is keeping an eye on them and I want to tell you news from England.”

  George McLennan looked up from his desk, littered with papers, and smiled at his wife. He knew her ploys to distract him and sometimes, like today, they were very welcome.

  “Come away in, Jeanette. Is it news from Anna and Alina? I’ll be glad of an interruption. The latest government regulations on income tax are making my head spin.”

  She put down the small tray and went at once to rub his shoulders. She could judge his stress by looking at the condition of his desk. On good days, there were tidy piles of documents and his computer was closed. On bad days, there was chaos on the desk with the computer in the centre of it all.

  She said nothing. Her hands did the work of massaging his neck to below his shoulder blades and she could feel the release of tension as she went up and down. When the blood showed red in his neck skin, signifying muscles relaxed, she knew she had accomplished a temporary mental separation from his work worries and he was ready to listen. She removed the knitted tea cozy from the teapot.

  “Let’s drink this tea before it gets cold. I’ll tell you about the phone call.

  Anna says they have spent hours at the London Eye Hospital interviewing doctors and financial advisors.

  As Alina is not a resident in the British Isles she can’t be automatically added to a list of future patients for this amazing eye operation.”

  “I suspected this would happen. How fortunate they both are that their A Plus business provides an excellent income each year. Paying privately for the operation should not be a problem, but of course there are others in Britain waiting for an opportunity to see again.”

  “Anna says they have one advantage. Alina’s macular degeneration is longstanding and considered extreme. The Eyemax Mono technique is designed specifically to help people with this type of condition.

  I asked her if they were getting weary of waiting. She said returning to Zoe and Wesley’s lovely secluded home at the end of each day makes the struggle worthwhile.”

  “Having friends around to help always makes life more bearable in the difficult times. I am sure it will all work out in the end and Anna will bring Alina back to Oban to recover.”

  “I do hope so. Alina has been so restricted for a number of years as her sight worsened. It’s tragic for her with so much she can no longer do for herself.”

  “Once again, Alina has Anna, and Philip, for support otherwise she could never have been able to attempt this long journey. People around you who care are essential in life.”

  They sipped tea and pondered how modern medical science was capable of inventing ways to overcome even the most intractable of problems, but often too late to benefit thousands of sufferers.

  The phone on George’s desk trilled, disturbing the peaceful moment.

  Jeanette picked it up as it was after business hours and probably intended for her or the children.

  George began to shuffle his papers around in preparation for leaving his work behind for the day. He could not help hearing his wife’s side of the phone conversation.

  “Oh, yes, Fiona. I heard all about this right after school. Annette is fine. It was nothing at all. It turns out the lad in question already had a pulled muscle on the arm Shona pushed. That’s what caused him to cry. Annette was more annoyed by the fact of Shona always calling her ‘wee Annette’ when the two of them are in the same year. Right enough! Annette is keen to grow faster. She’s on a healthy eating kick at the moment which won’t do any harm at all but I think she takes after her Gran Jean in height, as well as many other ways and that’s not a bad thing. They are very close ever since my Mom moved here from Vancouver.”

  There was a pause in the talk while Jeanette absorbed more information. George got up quietly and made to exit the study. His wife’s phone conversations could go on endlessly and he could smell something tasty coming from the direction of the kitchen, setting his digestive juices flowing.

  “That sounds very nice indeed, Fiona. I’ll tell the children and give Bev a call.

  Bye for now, then. See you all on Saturday!”

  George’s heart fell. It sounded as if it would be another busy family day on the weekend. He really hoped to rest at home.

  What had his wife let him in for now?

  The gathering at the Matthews’ farm on Saturday afternoon was arranged for the purpose of introducing Caroline Fenton to the local community of Canadians and Scots of Anna’s circle.

  The four older children would happily go off and climb the hillside, equipped with carrots, to see how the spring lambs were thriving, leaving the adults to sigh over Neil, passing him from one knee to another and tempting him with bits of buttered scone. Pots of tea and plates of sandwiches and cakes were circulated, as well as youn
g Neil.

  Rena and Steve were included at this event. Bev suspected there was some kind of mystery in the Collins’ background. They already had some slight family connection to James and Caroline but Bev’s son was closed-mouthed about the details, which was not like him.

  From the first time, years before, when he began to work for Anna and Alina’s A Plus Knitwear company, James enjoyed nothing better than to bore everyone within sight about the finer details of sourcing good wool materials and acquiring skilled Scottish knitters. As he moved into Caroline’s political sphere he was voluble about the great work his partner, Caroline, did with a charitable trust and non-governmental agencies, but about Rena and Steve he had said nothing at all.

  Bev noticed Caroline and Rena did not seem to have met previously. James introduced them and Rena was almost in tears of gratitude for what Caroline had done to help her and her father.

  Bev would have loved to hear more about this but James moved swiftly on to other topics and soon the group separated into men and women with the men stepping outside to smoke cigars or pipes and talk about Gordon’s eco house and the possibility of achieving real Net Zero status in the variable Scottish climate.

  The women stayed on in the farm’s former milking parlour, now fully revitalized into a summer tearoom for visitors.

  “Do you think you need a new coat of paint in here, Bev? It’s ages since we decorated.”

  “No, Jeanette. The summer tourist custom died down a bit since Alan and I were often in the States visiting Eric and his family. I don’t want to put out more money and the furnishings you chose originally for me are as good as new.”

  Fiona piped in with an observation. “Anna told me she and Ashley were having some trouble last year with tourists knocking on the McCaig Estate House door expecting to be invited in to see Lawren Drake’s paintings and sketches. Do you think they are bypassing your farm on their way to see the famous artist’s works?”

  “I suppose there’s some truth in that. I know both Ashley and Anna were annoyed at the constant interruption. They have no intention of ever permitting entry to Anna’s private home.”

  “Well, that’s the price of fame, I suppose. You could always get Ashley to give you some prints and use that as a draw for customers.”

  “You know, Jeanette, that’s not a bad idea. They do sell some of Lawren’s art books in the bookstore in town and Anna’s biography of her life with Lawren is a big seller. I should get a sign and do some advertising.”

  There were nods of agreement around the table and Rena felt impelled to comment.

  “I know I am a newcomer to these parts but I do admire the ingenuity of you women friends. In Canada, this kind of thing would never happen in major cities like Toronto, and rarely in the very small communities outside the big cities. Scotland and England are blessed with towns like Oban that have all the necessary amenities to thrive on a smaller scale using all the advantages at their disposal. Of course, it does not hurt to be located in an absolutely spectacular area like this one. I look out of my office window and I am stounded every day as the view across the bay to the islands changes constantly and conspires to distract me from my school responsibilities.”

  Caroline laughed out loud. “Isn’t that typical! Here we are discussing dull financial matters and it takes a Canadian, recently arrived, to point out how lucky we are to live in this beautiful country. I say this as one who was born in a small town in the south of England and took for granted the beauties of Sussex and Kent that surrounded me then.”

  “What you say is true, Caroline. It requires some separation from our familiar places to see them in a new light. Did that happen to you in Brussels?”

  “Bev, I think of Brussels as a place where I worked so hard for such long hours in difficult circumstances that I remember little of the surrounding country. Offices and buildings for daily meetings were my only venues and the airport was almost like home. Trying to resolve conflict among nations is the most debilitating job in the world. I wish the European Parliament could hear how easily a group of women can solve problems around a tea table.”

  It was exactly the right thing to say and endeared Caroline, not only to her partner’s mother but also to the other women in the room. It made the somewhat remote political expert a member of the female community and removed any fear of her disapproval.

  Bev felt happy to know her son was in Caroline’s good hands. Not only was Caroline incredibly smart and quite lovely, she appreciated the simple things in life. Undoubtedly, James had done the right thing by bringing Caroline to Anna’s estate house for a much-needed break.

  “Right Caroline! Should any early tourists arrive at Anna’s red door while you are in charge, we will expect you to redirect them to Bev and Alan’s farm.”

  “I’ll undertake that responsibility happily, Jeanette. But first, could I please have more tea and another slice of Bev’s divine Victoria sponge cake?”

  James Patterson had one ear cocked toward the conversation inside the farmhouse. When he heard the gales of female laughter, he visibly relaxed. He had observed Caroline in a variety of difficult circumstances and knew her abilities well among the diplomats and representatives of European nations, but spending time with his close family and friends was another matter altogether.

  He wanted Caroline to be accepted in this community. He wanted their relationship to move into a firmer bond than the loose one they now had, and this break from their regular, harried life of attempting to find time together was a chance he did not intend to waste. If Caroline genuinely loved this group of friends in this most beautiful of Scottish towns, as he had learned to do, he had a hope of persuading her to leave London for Oban and a more normal existence with him.

  He silently acknowledged this was a lot to ask.

  Caroline was a career diplomat. She was highly respected. She was instrumental in devising a number of ground-breaking laws affecting the status of immigrants.

  His only hope lay in the present chaotic state of the Brexit negotiations. A recent development announced a further two-year delay before Britain would finally be separated from Europe’s sway.

  The entire exit process was mired in disputes and deception and he could not see it ending anytime soon.

  Caroline had even expressed some concerns along these lines which was unusual for her. He had jumped at the chance to extract her from the melee on the excuse that she was tired and drained after long sessions trapped indoors and she deserved some good Scottish fresh air.

  The fact that she had readily accepted his pleas was a sign of her present state of mind and he was not about to let this chance escape him.

  Now or never. Strike while the iron is hot.

  These and other imperatives ran through his mind like the refrain of a popular song. It was a master stroke to have acquired Anna’s estate house for a few weeks while she and Alina were in London.

  Caroline loved the old stone Victorian house. He had not known she also loved cats until Sylvia was brought back to Anna’s in a cage from his mother’s house. Of course, Sylvia was no ordinary cat. She was a product of a Scottish Wildcat and a large stray male cat and she was magnificent. Being so often in Bev’s or Anna’s care, Sylvia was accustomed to females and took to Caroline immediately, following her throughout the house and garden and settling on her feet whenever she sat down. It was only one of the attractions of the house, but a powerful and unusual one.

  They slept in the second bedroom as Anna’s room was reserved exclusively for her own use and was almost a shrine to her marriage with Lawren, containing his most iconic portrait of Anna, an item of immense value and one of the reasons why Anna preferred to have her house occupied rather than left vacant for any length of time.

  The bedroom across the hallway was comfortable and benefitted from the heat of a fireplace and from access to the main bathroom through an adjoining door.

  James had rolled the two beds together and added extra quilts from the cupboard at t
he head of the stairs, to which he had been given the key.

  From this cedar lined storage area, Ashley, Anna’s great-niece, had uncovered a treasure trove of Lawren Drake’s pen and ink sketches, many of which were reproduced for the art book that had astounded art critics on two continents. Caroline was aware of this, but as far as she was concerned the rich, clean, smell of the quilts was the best thing to emerge from there. She snuggled down and pulled them around her at night and was grateful for the warmth that emanated from the chimney wall by virtue of the Aga cooker below in the kitchen.

  James was a veritable storehouse of all things relating to Anna Drake and he entertained Caroline with incidents from their long-standing business association. What interested Caroline the most was the mystery surrounding Anna’s acquisition of the Estate House. She had plied him with questions, some of which he could not answer, so when he excused himself from the male company outside Alan’s home and went inside to find Caroline, he was not surprised to find her attempting to get answers to her questions from Anna’s friends.

  “It’s such a lovely house; so strong and square against the weather with that protective hill rising to the north.

  Why is it called Helen’s Hill? Who is Helen?”

  There was an exchange of glances around the circle as all the women waited to see who would respond first. The task fell to Bev who was one of Anna’s original Samba members. She ushered her son into a chair beside Caroline and began.

  “It’s a bit of a long, sad story, I’m afraid. It’s about a lost child with a very difficult past. Anna knows most parts but she has kept some of the family secrets to herself. I can say Helen Dunlop had more than one name and there is the suggestion of an illegal payment of some kind that allowed her to purchase the McCaig Estate House. I know from Alan’s mother that Helen was living there alone and the town knew little to nothing about her. She lived like a hermit.”

  Bev turned to acknowledge Jeanette as she continued.