Read an Excerpt
Bridie stopped for a quick look in the newsagent’s window.
‘Bridie! Hey, Bridie Maxwell …’
She turned in surprise, scanning the passers-by on the opposite side of the road.
‘Oh …’ She stared open-mouthed as a tall, slim figure ran across the street, dodging between a horse and cart and the butcher’s van. ‘Fiona! What a surprise! What are you doing in Lockerbie? I haven’t seen you for …’
‘Years?’ Fiona Sinclair prompted with a rueful smile.
‘I think it is. Two at least. How are you? Are you on holiday? Are you visiting your mum? How is she?’ Bridie’s pleasure at seeing her old school friend was evident as the questions tumbled out, one after the other. Fiona’s smile faded and the light died from the clear grey eyes. Bridie remembered how expressive Fiona’s eyes had always been – tenderness, compassion, anger. They were like a mirror reflecting her inner emotions.
‘Have you time for a cup of tea, Bridie? I’d love to chat for a wee while … that is …?’
‘Of course I have time! I’ll make time,’ Bridie said, swiftly pushing out of her mind the million and one tasks she had vowed to do. ‘I’ve just been to the vet’s for a drench for a sickly calf, but so long as I’m back at Lochandee before milking it will be fine. Shall we go into Wilson’s or do you prefer …?’
‘Wilson’s will be fine.’ Fiona glanced at the baker’s shop with its upstairs restaurant only a couple of doors from where they were standing. ‘I see they still make a lovely selection of cakes and scones. Oh look! Is that a Selkirk bannock? Mum used to love them. I’ll buy it before anyone else snatches it up. It might just tempt her appetite. How many bread coupons do you think I shall need?’ She fished in her handbag and pulled out a ration book.
‘I don’t think you’ll need any.’ Bridie frowned, puzzled. ‘The government withdrew the bread units in July. Surely it must have been the same in Glasgow?’
‘Oh, probably. I forgot. I shall have to get used to doing these everyday things again. I’ve been a bit spoiled with someone to do most of my shopping. Mrs Mossy seemed to know all the best places to register for things. She had three other households besides mine and her own.’
‘Oh.’ Bridie was at a loss.
‘You go on up and choose a table and I’ll follow as soon as I’ve paid.’ The sweep of smooth, well-groomed hair hid her face. Bridie made her way slowly up the stairs to the restaurant. It was quiet at this time, except on market days. Most of those who had been lunching had already left and it was still early for afternoon tea. She chose a table near the window, overlooking the wide main street of the little market town.
‘I saw the waitress on my way up,’ Fiona said, arranging her handbag and the neatly wrapped bannock on a spare chair. ‘I ordered afternoon tea. Is that all right? I remember you always used to have tea before milking time at the farm.’ She smiled across the table. ‘Is it still the same routine?’
‘More or less. I think we all assumed the rationing would go away once the war was over, but some things are as scarce as ever. But never mind that – do tell me how things are with you, Fiona. I haven’t seen your mum for ages, but she was so proud of you being a qualified accountant and working in the city. “Doing the work of a gentleman”, she said.’ Bridie grinned but she was dismayed to see a film of tears cloud Fiona’s eyes. She blinked rapidly.
They had travelled together on the school bus each night and morning to the Academy and they had become good friends in spite of Fiona’s two years seniority and her brilliant academic achievements. Seven years ago, Bridie remembered, she had been desperate to leave school to help at Lochandee. As soon as she had finished the examinations for her School Certificate she had got her way, mainly because so many men were away at the war and her mother was expecting Ewan, and far from well. Fiona had been only 17 by the time she had passed her Higher School Certificate with distinction. Then, to Bridie’s surprise, and Mrs Sinclair’s dismay, she had become engaged to a boy she had known since they had started at DumfriesAcademy together, six years earlier. His name was Gerald Fountain, known throughout the school as Gerry. Bridie remembered him well. He had been tall, very fair, not exactly handsome, but his blue eyes had sparkled and everyone recognised his infectious laugh.
‘Poor Mum …’ Fiona said huskily. ‘I’m afraid I haven’t been much comfort to her since Dad died.’
‘Oh, don’t say that, Fiona. She was really proud of the way you – you picked up the pieces and made such a success of your career …’
