Lady in the Veil (12 page)

The Laird’s guns were out in the bracken and Jem skipped school to help out, much to the schoolmaster’s dismay. He knocked on the door demanding an explanation. ‘James should
be at his desk, not tramping the forest. I had him for college in Dundee or Edinburgh school. He would then see you in comfort, Jean Guthrie.’

No one in the village understood why a respectable widow should take to her bed a man such as Sam Baillie. Though sure enough, the boy had his father’s fine looks, with a head of wild jet
curls and dark winsome eyes. He was not afraid of hard graft but he was half tinker. Everyone knew that there was no holding them when the spirit put the wanderlust in their feet.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ she promised, knowing full well that Sam would not last the winter and there’d be precious little to be spending on books and education.
‘Send for the doctor,’ Jem ordered.

‘He’ll not come out this far to see him. We’ll take him into town.’ But both of them knew Sam was too ill to travel.

When his mother left the room, Jem sat by the box bed and whispered. ‘It’s time to sell yon pearl. We have to buy you medicines. Then next summer you’ll back by the river and
I’ll do the fishing for you.’

‘I’ve done my last fishing, son. It’s enough to have found the queen of the river. All yer life you can tramp and never have a moment like ours.’ Sam smiled up at his
son’s worried face, his eyes glassy with fever.

‘I’m for the next journey to
Tir Nan Og
, the land far away. You must take care of Queenie, she’ll be yours when I’m a goner.’

‘Don’t talk like that,’ Jem protested.

‘Look after yer mother and see her right. Then go and see the world for yourself, go travel and find Queenie some mates. You’re a lucky one, Jem. This is yours by right, you found
her and she will bring good fortune.’

‘Och away with you! What good is it sitting in the pouch when she can buy medicines and cures.’

‘Too late for all that as you know. But I want you to have an
eddicashun
so no one will cheat you. There’s a few more good pearls in ma box; get yerself some learning, you
never know when it will serve you well.’

‘What’s he blethering about now, Jemmy?’ His mother was now hovering in earshot.

‘He’s away with the faeries. His fever’s up and I’m afeard for him.’

That night, Jem and his mother took turns to sit with Sam, covering him with everything to sweat out the fever, giving him sips of feverfew tea which he spat out for its bitterness. Jem sat into
the wee small hours, his eyes heavy, until he woke in the dawn and his father’s hand was cold. His mother was weeping.

‘It’s just the two of us now,’ she cried. ‘How will we get by?’

Jem sat holding his mother’s hand, knowing he must take care of her now. ‘There’s some pearls in the chest. We’ll get by. I can work on the estate, lopping branches,
barking logs and building up the banks for the log rolling. We won’t starve.’

‘But what about schooling?’

‘That’s over and done with,’ he sighed, sensing a relief that he could take over his father’s work. But there was a sadness too; his chance to travel and see far off
places was gone now. He would have to wait and see his mother safe and warm. When she was gone, he searched in the wooden press for the little tin of pearls but it wasn’t there. His father
must have put them in his old wooden travelling box with the lock. All he found in his Pa’s jacket were a few coins and a clay pipe. He touched the pipe and wept for the loss of such a good
man, knowing it would never glow by the camp firelight again. The heaviness of grief covered him like a blanket and Jem sobbed, knowing that at sixteen he was now man of the house.

Read on for an extract from Leah Fleming’s

The Postcard

Remember before God

those men and women of

The European Resistance Movement

who were secretly trained in Beaulieu to fight

their lonely battle against Hitler’s Germany

and who before entering Nazi occupied territory,

here found some measure of the peace

for which they fought.

unveiled 27 April 1969.

Adelaide, Australia, 2002

The summons from the hospital came in the middle of the night. Although it was expected, it was still a shock.

‘Your father’s asking for you, Melissa. I think he wants to make his peace,’ said the concerned-sounding nurse.

Why should I go? Mel’s head was spinning. Why should I bother? He’s never been the greatest dad in the world. Where was he when I needed him after Mum died? When did he ever give me
anything but cheques and empty promises?

Yet something stronger than her anger made her shoot out of bed, ring for a taxi, then throw on her jeans and T-shirt before dunking her face in cold water.

Lew Boyd was all the flesh and blood she had left in the world. Years of heavy drinking had taken its toll on his liver, and all his success in the world couldn’t spare him now. Besides,
Mel owed it to her mother to hear him out one last time.

The hospital corridors were silent but for her scurrying footsteps, and Mel’s heart sank at the thought of what was waiting for her in the private ward. The one and only time she’d
visited, she’d breezed in with a bunch of grapes and a smile to tell him she’d won the coveted Post-Grad Music Scholarship to the Royal Academy in London, but her excitement had been
quickly doused by the sight of the once big man reduced to skin and bone. They’d made small talk, but she had been shocked at the change in him and glad to escape.

This was different. This was the last goodbye. With a sinking heart she wondered what he wanted to say that couldn’t have been said before now.

Lew sat propped up with an oxygen mask by his side. His tanned skin was now a papery yellow, his cheeks pinched, his hair in sparse tufts from the chemo. He looked a shadow of his former
handsome self. At the sight of his daughter he held out a bony hand.

‘You came,’ he croaked. ‘I wouldn’t have blamed you if you hadn’t.’

‘They rang and said you wanted to see me.’ Mel’s voice trembled as a nurse retreated discreetly from the room. Mel sat down, staring at this frail figure struggling for breath,
shocked at his deterioration. How could she have thought of not coming?

He turned slowly, those blue eyes fixed on her. ‘Not been much of a dad, have I?’

‘You’re the only one I’ve got,’ she replied, trying to hide years of resentment. He’d been such a driven man, developing his building empire, making a fortune, and
for what?

‘Time to come clean, Melissa. I’m sorry for letting you down so many times. I really loved you and yer mom, but when she was killed in the car I couldn’t handle it, lost the
plot, as they say now. I’m sorry, kiddo. I’ve always been so proud of you and those lungs of yours.’ He paused as if saying each word was agony to him. ‘I’ve often
wondered just who gave you that wonderful voice. Not me or your mom, for sure. She was tone deaf, bless her. Must have skipped a generation, I reckon.’

‘You didn’t bring me here to talk about my voice,’ she snapped. ‘Sorry, but I don’t understand you.’

‘Of course you don’t. I don’t understand myself, but I need to tell you a story and I’m hoping you’ll be able to finish it.’ He took a gulp of oxygen.

‘Long ago I came on a ship from England with Ma, yer gran Boyd. It was after the war. I don’t remember why we came or where we went. The truth is I don’t know who I am, Mel.
You’ll not find a birth certificate for me. Granny Boyd was not my mother. You need to know all this in case . . .’ Lew tailed off and Mel could see tears in his eyes. She reached out
her hand to take his.

‘It doesn’t matter now, Dad. It’s all in the past.’

‘You’re wrong. I’ve lived with these blanks all my life. I once saw a shrink in rehab who wanted me to have some hypnotherapy but I wouldn’t go there. Now I wish I had.
It might have made me face this head-on instead of just drowning my sorrows. I’ve been a closed book to you with my binges and my moods. I never deserved the love your mom gave me.’ Lew
stared at his daughter as if seeing her for the first time. ‘I sense such a waste of potential in me, love. I worked so hard to blot out bits of my childhood. My folks were kindness itself
but they never shared my past and I never asked until it was too late. When I asked your gran about things, she clammed up tight.’ He smiled, shaking his head. ‘Your mom opened my heart
to such loving possibilities but I let you both down. I’m ashamed of how I neglected you. I’ve messed up on you and your mom big time. I thought if I was successful it would prove I was
a proper provider, but it all went too far. I wanted you to be proud of me but no one is proud of a drunk.’

‘Stop this! It doesn’t matter now.’ Mel felt the tears rising.

‘If only I knew . . . There’s blanks in my memory but there’s one thing I do remember when I was a kid . . . One day you’ll have kids of your own and they ought to have a
proper history to blame for all their failings. I’ve left some stuff for you with Harry Webster, my lawyer. Promise me you’ll go and see him when I’m gone?’

‘What are you trying to say?’ Mel leaned forward, the better to catch his words.

‘When you go to England you might find the places, people who might recognize my stuff. I meant to do this for myself but I was always too busy and now I’ve run out of time. I just
know Gran was not my real mom. There was a lady who once came from England when I was little . . .’ He paused, staring towards the wall. ‘Would you find out who she was and why she
never came back? She may be still alive. Please, Mel, before it’s too late. Will you do it for me?’

Panic rose in Mel at the thought of what he was asking of her. ‘Why didn’t you tell me all this before? We could have searched together.’

‘I just never gave it much thought until I got crook, and then with the chemo it went out of my mind.’ Lew sank back as if all the breath was leaving his body. ‘See Harry
– he’ll help you – and forgive me for letting you down . . .’ Those were the last of his words she heard through her tears.

The nurse slipped back into the room. It was almost dawn. ‘You take a break, Miss Boyd. It won’t be long now.’

‘I’ll stay,’ she whispered. ‘I’m not leaving him alone.’

One afternoon two weeks later, Mel, wearing her black audition suit, found herself walking along the busy King William Street, climbing up the steps to the offices of Harry
Webster Associates for an appointment with the senior partner. Having delayed the meeting until she felt strong enough to face this stranger, now she felt nervous. So many questions were racing
through her mind and here was someone who might provide some answers.

Webster was a squat little man of her father’s age. He looked like a rugby player, with his squashed nose and his arms bulging beneath his jacket sleeves. His cheeks were ruddy as he
smiled and ushered her into his office, which was a clutter of files, books and coffee mugs. The walls were covered with certificates stating his legal qualifications, but sports trophies acted as
paperweights.

‘I’m sorry for your loss, Melissa. Lew was so proud of you – I hear you are in for the Elder Hall Award. We go back a long way, yer dad and me . . . school and that sort of
thing. Great man for keeping stuff in order,’ he laughed, glancing around his room. ‘Not like this. My father knew the Boyd family and looked after their affairs . . .’ He looked
straight at her, then made for a cupboard and pulled out a shoe box from the bulging shelves, catching the files before they clattered onto the floor. He took the box to his desk, swiping away some
papers to make a space for it. Mel sat expectant. She realized she was holding her breath and let it out slowly. At last, some answers were on their way.

Harry tapped his finger on the box. ‘Lew came to see me six months ago as soon as he knew . . . He said to open the package after his death so I’ve opened it. There’s a letter
for you and some bits and pieces of private stuff. He’s made good provision for you. It’s all straightforward: the apartment; moneys, should you wish to travel. His will is in
order.’ He pushed the box across the desk to her. ‘I think his whole life is in that box . . . what little he knows of it. The Boyds were not his birth parents. I reckon he meant to
follow up on his real history but you know what he was like.’ He hesitated. ‘He could get easily distracted.’

Oh, yes, full of promises never fulfilled was Lew Boyd: birthdays forgotten, outings cancelled. She’d learned early to take any contact if and when it came, but now he was gone she felt
bereft.

‘There’s been a lot in the papers about child migrants,’ Harry continued. ‘But I don’t think he was one of those poor sods who got shipped out here after the war.
He never said much, only that the Boyds saved his life.’

‘Do you realize I only found out they weren’t my real grandparents at his bedside?’ Mel snapped. ‘Why couldn’t he have shared all this with me himself instead of
making it all a mystery?’

Harry sat down and sighed. ‘I’ve met a few guys like Lew, guys with no history. They can’t remember and there’s no one left to jog their memories. He just didn’t
talk to anyone about his past. Perhaps he had a bad start. Humankind copes as best it can, but I think this is the nearest we’re going to get unless that box holds any clues. I’ve not
opened anything addressed to you. I hope it’s all in there – what he wanted you to know, Melissa. I realize he wasn’t much in the dad department but he was proud of
you.’

Mel took the box from him, shaking her head. ‘Thank you. I prefer to open it alone.’

‘If I can help in any way, feel free to ask,’ Harry said, ushering her to the front door.

She nodded curtly and fled down the steps into the bustle of the busy traffic and the bright afternoon, heading straight back to the Music School to shove the box in her locker, where it stayed
for a week until all the formalities of her future studies were confirmed and she took it home.

The box stayed unopened for another week. She just couldn’t face what might be inside. One evening, however, curiosity got the better of her, so armed with a bottle of Shiraz and a large
block of milk chocolate, she carried it to her father’s flat in his apartment block. It was all black leather sofas and glass, the sort of soulless place she’d hate to live in. Now it
felt emptier than ever.