Jess was thinking of Sarah and in the corner of her mind was a little knot of worry

Sandy fetched a bottle of port wine left over from his and Jess’s wedding, and a toast was made.

At last Sandy mentioned the house next door and Jess seized on the idea.

“It’s a fine dry house,” she told Sarah and Daniel. “It wouldna take much to set it to rights. The two of you could stay here till it’s ready.” Daniel’s face darkened.

“Thank you, Jess, but Langrigg’ll do us fine. There’s a grand wee house there a’ but ready. Everything’s already arranged.”

He placed a protective hand on Sarah’s arm. “Sarah’s content to go there.”

Sandy shot a warning glance at his wife and there was no more talk of the house next door.

The time seemed to fly past and Daniel’s mood brightened again as he told the story of the wedding ring, which had been much admired by Jess.

“I had said nothing to Mary Ellen or Pate about our wedding,” he related, smiling.

“I was polishing my boots yesterday, when Mary Ellen came through with the ring in her hand.

“She told me it was her ‘keeper’ ring that Pate had given to her with her wedding ring, but she’d never worn it and she told me that she and Pate wanted me to have it.”

Intuition

Jess’s eyes grew round with wonder. “How did she know?” There was a sudden reflective silence. Then Sarah spoke.

“I think it’s called intuition, Jess, and Mary Ellen seems to have more than her fair share.”

After hasty plans were made to tell Mrs Brodie the happy news, the couple left and were waved away from the door by Jess and her husband.

“I never got to tell them our news.” Jess sighed a little as Sandy’s arm came protectively round her shoulders. He gave her a little squeeze.

“It was their night, Jess. You did the right thing. Our news’ll keep.” He dropped a kiss on top of her head. “You’re tired out wi’ a’ the excitement. I’ll clear up and it’s straight to bed for you, my girl.”

Jess didn’t answer. She was thinking of Sarah and in the corner of her mind was a little knot of worry.

Mary Ellen gave one last wipe to the range that had been black-leaded until it shone, and stepped back to view her handiwork with more than a little satisfaction. As she did, Daniel put his head round the door of his new home.

“Tak’ yer boots off, lad, and dinna be trackin’ dirt in here. Ye should have gone up to the hoose and got washed and shifted afore comin’ in here.”

Daniel kicked off his working boots and stepped into the room. Smiling, he looked around.

“Mary Ellen, you’ve worked wonders. Just wait till Sarah sees this.”

“You’re bringin’ her tonight?”

Still smiling, Daniel nodded.

“I’ll light the fire, then, and that’s me finished, except for the food,” was the reply. “No’ that you two’ll need much in the way o’ food for a while, I expect.”

Mary Ellen returned Daniel’s smile and he reddened.

“Away you and get out o’ your workin’ clothes and take somethin’ to eat. It’s a fair walk up to the farm, an’ by the time you an’ that Sandy fella get the cart loaded up and he brings you and the new Mrs Morrison back here, it’ll be yon time.”

Mary Ellen shooed him out of the house and closed the door.

Coming back into the kitchen, the weight of her labours suddenly fell on her and she sank into a fireside chair for a minute or two, resting limbs that had suddenly become weary.

Romantic

She looked around the room to check that everything was in place. Two chairs of slatted wood softened with bright cushions flanked the range, and Pate’s newly completed rag rug with the sunburst sat between them.

Miss Bunty, the colonel’s sister, hearing of the marriage and reacting with a romantic heart concealed by a gruff exterior, had donated a card table, two picnic tables and a glass-fronted cabinet with carved cherubs at the corners.

The card table had become a dining table, and the picnic tables, dressed in flowered skirts, bore lamps on either side of the fire, and the cabinet stood against the far wall.

Mrs Brodie had donated two pairs of curtains patterned with ivy leaves.

One pair flanked the white lace curtains that covered the front window and could be drawn at night to ensure privacy. The other concealed the bed recess which lay empty and would serve meantime as a sort of box-room.

On the other side of the small lobby was the bedroom which was sparsely furnished but had a fireplace.

“A fire’ll make it cosy enough,” Mary Ellen had told Daniel. “Ye’ll be well gathered afore long. Just take your time.”

Daniel had spent every spare minute he had papering, painting, scouring, repairing, varnishing and getting his house ready. From the start, it had been clear that he intended to bring Sarah here as his bride.

Mary Ellen smiled to herself as she recalled his surprise and pleasure at being given her rose-gold ring.

“Lookin’ for a collar stud and polishin’ his boots on a workin’ day,” she told the clock on the mantelpiece. “And he thocht that we hadna’ noticed,” she added with a chuckle, easing herself out of the fireside chair and setting about lighting the fire.

Mary Ellen was never happier than when she was busy, but later, when she got home to find that Daniel had left for the Brodie farm and Pate was in the mood for talking, her spirits began to flag a little.

Raised voices

“It’ll be a change for the master’s daughter,” Pate said, lighting his pipe.

“Daniel’s wife,” Mary Ellen corrected him with the slightest of sighs. “I just hope it’ll no’ be too much o’ a change for her to manage.”

“You managed,” Pate said with the ghost of a smile. “It took a while,” was the answer. “I was a wee bit older than Sarah, mind. And we didna live in Langrigg then.”

Mary Ellen stared into the fire for a while, remembering. She started as a crash and the sound of raised voices came from next door.

A child started to wail. There was another crash followed by a banshee shriek.

“Magrit.” Mary Ellen sighed, easing herself out of her chair.

As she made for the door, the wailing child was joined by several others and the sound of their neighbours’ argument was drowned out.

Pate shook his head and growled, but Mary Ellen was out the door.

More on Monday.

Artwork: Andrew Lloyd Jones