Around the Rowan Tree, Day Eight

She had a cheerful countenance which belied the difficult childhood she had had. There was no chip on her shoulder anywhere to be seen

Francette was very different from Catherine – petite and pretty, unable to speak much English. A student accustomed to academic work rather than physical, she needed time spent with her which I didn’t have. She hadn’t much discipline over the older boys. They used to tease her at the table because she wanted to eat nothing except lettuce and lemons. Watching Francette eat lemons seemed to fascinate the boys but also bring out the worst in them.

We used to take Francette with us when we went out. On one rare occasion we had a meal in a country hotel. There were other farmers there that we knew. We got talking. One was especially curious about Francette.

“She’s from France and can’t speak much English,” Ronald told him. “My God she’s thin,” he said, “must have been the one on the blind teat.”

I loved the way farmers brought things back down to earth. No way would Francette have understood what he was saying as he spoke in Scots and no way would she have known that mother pigs often have an extra teat that provides no milk. Instructions When they are newly born each piglet finds his own teat and sticks to the same one each time he feeds. No other piglet is allowed to touch it. If there are too many piglets, one lands with the blind teat and has to steal what it can from others and never thrives.

I didn’t leave the children in Francette’s care until one day I got an SOS from my mother. Father was haemorrhaging at home in Newport across the river. Ronald was at a sale.

I asked Francette,: “Do you think you will manage?” and she nodded assent. I spoke with the boys. “You have to be especially good,” I said. “Your grandfather’s ill. Don’t give Francette a hard time. She’s in charge.”

With these instructions, I left. When I got back in the evening there was an eerie silence. Immediately I knew something was wrong. There was no one about and then round the corner came Richard.

“It’s David ...” he explained haltingly. “David? What’s he doing here?” I asked. David was 13 years old. “He came to play with us this afternoon and we went down on our bikes to the pea fields and David ate an awful lot of peas and, and...” Richard’s voice trailed away to silence. “And what?” I demanded. “You know that cupboard where you keep the drinks when you have a party?” Richard asked. “Yes.”

“Well, David found it and drank half a bottle of vodka.” “And what about the rest of you?” I asked. “No we didn’t,” came the reply.

I didn’t think they would. They had far too healthy a respect for what their father would say to them. “Where’s David now?” I said. “Round in the garden trying to be sick,” replied Richard miserably.

Just at that moment Ronald drove into the yard. Quickly I told him what had happened. With immediate presence of mind Ronald stuck his fingers down David’s throat. Convulsion The boy came to a bit and with a great convulsion out came what looked like a thousand peas. I left David with Ronald and went to phone the doctor.

“Where’s Francette?” I asked Richard. “She’s locked herself in her bedroom. I think she’s frightened of us.”

The doctor arrived quickly and soon David was off to hospital. It was a year or so before I ventured to think of trying again for a girl in the house.

“Never again,” I had said to myself and now Ronald didn’t press the point. And then one day I got a phone call from another farmer’s wife I only knew vaguely.

She had heard that at one time I had been looking for a girl to help with the children. “Do you still need one?” she asked. “I help out in a voluntary capacity in a children’s home.

“We have a girl that is looking for work. She is a good girl and we would like to see her settled and happy. Could you help? She would be half foster child and half home help. If it didn’t work out, we would take her back.

“She’s fifteen. We’ve tried her in a few jobs but they were all in the city and she didn’t like them. She’s a country girl at heart. Her father works on farms. Her mother became ill when the girl was tiny and she has been in a home ever since. What do you think?”

“Well,” I was hesitant over the phone. “I do need someone at the moment and I’ve always had an interest in fostering.

“Can I phone you back? I’ll discuss it with my husband.”

I was at the time feeling rather stressed out with overwork. Mother and father both came to stay with me for a while, both invalids. They wouldn’t be staying forever but I was feeling under the weather.

Also, secretly, ever since being in Canada and looking after three children not my own while there, I had entertained the idea of looking after foster children. I thought perhaps I had the ability for it.

I could make a difference to their lives and yet be able to let them go when the time came. But when I suggested it to Ronald, some time after we came back, he had said emphatically: “No. You can have more of your own if you like but no foster children.” Social worker Here was my chance. “I’ve got an offer of a girl to help me in the house,” I said to Ronald that evening.

“I thought you said, never again,” he replied immediately.

“I did, but this one...” and I explained to Ronald all that Mrs Pilcher had told me, leaving out the bit about fostering. “Well you can but try. You certainly need someone.” And so Jane came to us. On the first visit she came with a social worker. “We’ll bring her down every weekend for a month or so to see if it works,” she told me but Jane would have none of it.

She immediately took to Inchmichael, knew this was where she wanted to be and so her second visit was for keeps. “Willing,” the social worker told me, “but wearing.” This, to begin with, turned out to be a fairly accurate description. She was a pretty girl with masses of dark curls and rosy country cheeks. Her eyes were bright as the sunrise and a smile never far away.

She had in all a cheerful countenance which completely belied the difficult childhood she had had. There was no chip on her shoulder anywhere to be seen. The past was the past.

She was big now and a whole new life was stretching out in front of her which she meant to get on with and enjoy to the best of her ability.

More tomorrow.