to tease them till she saw their faces.
It was then, as she flew down the hill with her own face white, that the sky crackled behind her, a long flash zig-zagged across the Grampian peaks, and far across the parks by the hills she heard the hiss of rain. The drought had broken at last.
LYING DOWN when her climb up the cambered brae was done, panting deep from the rate she’d come at–skirt flying and iron-resolute she’d turn back for nothing that cried or called in all Blawearie-no, not even that whistle of father’s!—Chris felt the coarse grass crackle up beneath her into a fine quiet couch. Neck and shoulders and hips and knees she relaxed, her long brown arms quivered by her side as the muscles slacked away, the day drowsed down an aureal light through the long brown lashes that drooped on her cheeks. As the gnomons of a giant dial the shadows of the Standing Stones crept into the east, snipe called and called—
Just as the last time she’d climbed to the loch: and when had that been? She opened her eyes and thought, and tired from that and closed down her eyes again and gave a queer laugh. The June of last year it had been, the day when mother had poisoned herself and the twins.
So long as that and so near as that, you’d thought of the hours and days as a dark, cold pit you’d never escape. But you’d escaped, the black damp went out of the sunshine and the world went on, the white faces and whispering ceased from the pit, you’d never be the same again, but the world went on and you went with it. It was not mother only that died with the twins, something died in your heart and went down with her to lie in Kinraddie kirkyard–the child in your heart died then, the bairn that believed the hills were made for its play, every road set fair with its warning posts, hands ready to snatch you back from the brink of danger when the play grew over-rough. That died, and the Chris of the books and the dreams died with it, or you folded them up in their paper of tissue and laid them away by the dark, quiet corpse that was your childhood.
So Mistress Munro of the Cuddiestoun told her that awful night she came over the rain-soaked parks of Blawearie and laid out the body of mother, the bodies of the twins that had died so quiet in their crib. She nipped round the rooms right quick and pert and uncaring, the black-eyed futret, snapping this order and that, it was her that terrified Dod and Alec from their crying, drove father and Will out tending the beasts. And quick and cool and cold-handed she worked, peeking over at Chris with her rat-like face. You’ll be leaving the College now, I’ll warrant, education’s dirt and you’re better clear of it. You’ll find little time for dreaming and dirt when you’re keeping the house at Blawearie.
And Chris in her pit, dazed and dull-eyed, said nothing, she minded later; and some other than herself went searching and seeking out cloths and clothes. Then Mistress Munro washed down the body that was mother’s and put it in a nightgown, her best, the one with blue ribbons on it that she hadn’t worn for many a year; and fair she made her and sweet to look at, the tears came at last when you saw her so, hot tears wrung from your eyes like drops of blood. But they ended quick, you would die if you wept like that for long, in place of tears a long wail clamoured endless, unanswered inside your head Oh, mother, mother, why did you do it?
And not until days later did Chris hear why, for they tried to keep it from her and the boys, but it all came out at the inquest, mother had poisoned herself, her and the twins, because she was pregnant again and afraid with a fear dreadful and calm and clear-eyed. So she had killed herself while of unsound mind, had mother, kind-eyed and sweet, remembering those Springs of Kildrummie last of all things remembered, it may be, and the rooks that cried across the upland parks of Don far down beyond the tunnels of the years.
A MONTH LATER Dod and Alec went back to school and as they left to go home that night first one scholar cried after them and others took it up Daftie, daftie! Whose mother was a daftie? They ran for Blawearie and came stumbling into the house weeping and weeping, father went fair mad at the sight of them and skelped them both, but skelping or not they wouldn’t go back to the school next day.
And then Will spoke up, he cared not a fig for father now. All in a night it seemed the knowledge had come on him father wouldn’t dare strike him again, he bought an old bicycle and would ride off in an evening as he pleased, his face cold and hard when he caught the glint of father’s eye. Of a morning John Guthrie grumbled and girned at him, crying Where do you wander each night like a tink? But Will would say never a word, except once when John Guthrie made at him and then he swung round and whispered Take care. And at that father stopped and drew back, Chris watched them with angry eyes, angry and frightened in a breath as now when Will spoke up for his brothers.
Why should they go back? I wouldn’t. Oh, and you needn’t glower at me. You take damn good care you never go near a mart or a market yourself nowadays—I’ve to do all your dirty work for you!
Father louped to his feet at that, Will was on his as well, they stood with fists clenched in the kitchen and Dod and Alec stopped from their greeting and stared and stared. But Chris thrust the table in between the two, she made out she wanted it there for baking; and they dropped their fists and John Guthrie swore, but soft; and Will reddened up and looked foolish.
But father that night, he said never a word to the rest of them in Blawearie, he was over-proud for that, wrote off to his sister Janet in Auchterless and asked that she take Dod and Alec in her care and give them an Aberdeen schooling. In a week she was down from the North, Auntie Janet and her man, Uncle Tam he was, big and well-bulked and brave, and his watch-chain had rows and rows of wee medals on it he’d gotten for playing quoits. And they were fell kind, the two of them, Alec and Dod were daft with delight when they heard of the Auchterless plan. But Auntie and Uncle had never a bairn of their own and soon made plain if the boys went with them it would be for aye, they wanted to adopt the pair of them.
Father sneered and thrust out his beard at that So you’d like to steal the flesh of my body from me? and Auntie Janet nodded, right eye to eye, Aye, John, just that, we’ve never a wean of our own, though God knows it’s not for want of the trying; and father said Ill blood breeds ill; and Auntie said Ay, it’ll be long ere I have to kill myself because my man beds me like a breeding sow; and father said You dirty bitch.
Chris stuck the dirl of the row till her head near burst and then ran out of the kitchen, through the close into the cornyard, where Will was prowling about. He’d heard the noise and he laughed at them, but his eyes were angry as his arm went round her. Never heed the dirty old devils, one’s bad as the other, father, auntie, or that midden that’s covered with its wee tin medals. Come off to the park with me and we’ll bring home the kye.
Deep in clover the cows as they came on them, Chris and Will; and they went in no hurry at all, unanxious to be back in Blawearie. And Will seemed angry and gentle and kind all at once. Don’t let them worry you, Chris, don’t let father make a damned slave of you, as he’d like to do. We’ve our own lives to lead. And she said What else can I do but bide at home now?
He said he didn’t know, but he’d be libbed and pole-axed and gutted if he did for long, soon as he’d saved the silver he was off to Canada, a man was soon his own master there. Chris listened to that with eyes wide opened, she caught at the hope of it and forgot to smack at the kye that loitered and boxed and galumphed in their cloverful-foolishness up the brae. Oh, Will, and you could send for me as your housekeeper! He turned a dull red and smacked at the kye and Chris sighed and the hope went out, he’d no need to answer. Ay, maybe, but maybe it would hardly suit you.
So then she knew for sure he’d a lass somewhere in Drumlithie, it was with her he planned to share a bed and a steading in the couthy lands of Canada.
AND WHEN THEY got back to Blawearie they found the