Keepsakes from the Cottage by the Loch (Loch Cameron #6)

Chapter 28

TWENTY-EIGHT

They kissed and kissed, losing themselves for what felt like hours, until Tara had heard her mum and dad come back in. Dotty and Eric made what Tara knew were noises specifically aimed at letting Tara and Ramsay know that they were back in the building; she grinned up at Ramsay when she heard her dad’s careful cough.

‘They don’t want to walk into anything inappropriate,’ she whispered.

‘Hey. Hands strictly above the waist here,’ Ramsay murmured, grinning. ‘Hi, Dotty. Hi, Eric.’

‘Look at these lovebirds! Together again!’ Dotty trilled. She was glowing with joy. ‘I just want to hug you both! If you knew how much I dreamed of this moment!’ she chattered.

‘Dot. Leave them be.’ Eric guided his wife into the back room of the bar. Tara could hear her mother bickering gently with her dad, and she smiled to herself.

It was nice to see her mum happy. She didn’t know what would happen with Ramsay: where it would go, whether it would look anything like what Tara had thought it would, once upon a time. But, for the first time in a long time, she felt complete and right.

It had always been wrong, when Ramsay was missing from her – but, also, when he was missing from her family. Ramsay had been a Ballantyne, even though they had never got married. He’d been in Tara’s heart for always, just like the two hearts pendant. But he’d also been in her family’s heart, too.

‘Come and see something.’ She led him to the fireplace and took down some of the books from Agnes’ shelf. ‘These belonged to my great-aunt. Beautiful, aren’t they?’ She handed one to him: Villette by Charlotte Bront?.

‘Gorgeous.’ Ramsay took the book and opened it gently. ‘Agnes Smith. That was her?’

‘Yes. She had a difficult relationship with the headmaster at the time. But she was dedicated to looking after the children in her care, and she did look after them. She had a really long career at the school. She became headmistress and she ran the school for like 40 years.’

‘That’s awesome. Like you.’

‘Well, I haven’t had as long a career. But, yes, hopefully. The other thing that Carla and I found in these books – that’s my flatmate, by the way. You’ll love her – were some love letters between Agnes and this guy called John. I’d just love to know whatever happened between the two of them.’

‘When were the letters dated?’ Ramsay stepped forward and peered at the shelf on top of the fireplace. ‘You know there’s another book back here? Wedged behind the rest? Wait, I’ll get it.’ He removed some of the books and set them down on a chair, gently freeing a larger, brown leather-bound book.

‘Oh goodness. No, I didn’t know that,’ Tara breathed.

‘Looks like a scrap book or something.’ Ramsay opened it and handed it to her.

‘Oh, my goodness,’ Tara repeated, taking the book. ‘Look! It’s Agnes! ’

The book opened with a black and white print of a young Agnes. Unlike her school headmistress photo, the Agnes in this picture sat with her back against a tree, shading her eyes from the sun. She was wearing a tatty straw hat with a ribbon and a summer dress. She looked carefree and was grinning into the camera.

‘That’s up on Queen’s Point. Look, you can see the loch behind her,’ Ramsay said, softly.

On the next page, there was another picture. It was Agnes again, and a handsome young man in a light shirt and dark slacks. Underneath the picture, Agnes had written

John and me, summertime

‘That’s him,’ Tara gasped. ‘Wow. They look good together.’

‘They look happy,’ Ramsay said.

Tara flicked the pages. There were mementoes stuck to the pages, some of them labelled: an aged black feather on one page, under which Agnes had written Our friend Carruthers the Crow. On another page there were a handful of vintage train tickets, all dated 1942.

‘Clearly they spent a good bit of time together,’ Ramsay said. ‘These are day trips to the coast… look, here’s Orkney. That would have taken a week or so, don’t you think? A trip there?’

‘Probably, yes.’ Tara nodded. ‘So they had some good times together. It seems like he really loved her. And look how happy she is.’

Tara flicked the pages. There were some photos of landscapes, beaches and trees: the kind of scenes that clearly meant a lot to Agnes, but whose meaning was lost in time. Tara felt a warm glow of satisfaction that Agnes, though to all intents and purposes had remained a spinster in the eyes of her family and of Loch Cameron, had loved, and been loved.

Finally, Tara turned to a page at the back of the notebook, where a handwritten letter had been pasted in. It was John’s handwriting.

Dear Agnes,

This is the most difficult letter I have ever had to write.

I have been posted to the Eastern Front, and I leave next week.

I know that we had been looking forward to a weekend together, but I’m afraid that is not to be. The only way that I can evade being called up is by deserting, and I will not do that. Dear Agnes, you and I will have to wait for each other.

I thought that my work would protect me from active service, but my boss, Mr Andrews, says that they are getting desperate for troops on the Front now, and are recruiting any young men that they can get, and the older ones too. Mr Andrews is fifty and has a bad leg and is a father, but I know he too is dreading getting his papers.

I am frightened. I have heard terrible things about the Front, not least the weather and conditions, but I will try my hardest to come back to you, my darling Agnes.

Fate brought us together, and I refuse to believe that it will tear us apart.

Be strong, my darling: as strong as I know you are. Look after the children in your care. They need you.

Forever yours,

John xxx

‘Oh, no.’ Tara’s heart wrenched, and tears sprang to her eyes.

There was nothing else in the book, apart from the page after the letter, where Agnes had simply written –

NEVER GONE, ALWAYS WITH ME

‘Do you think he survived?’ Tara turned her face up to Ramsay.

‘I don’t know, babe. Maybe.’ Ramsay stroked her hair. ‘But the book stops there. I feel like there’d be more if he did.’

‘That’s so sad.’ Tara pressed the book to her heart. ‘I wanted Agnes to be happy.’

‘But she was happy,’ Ramsay said, pulling her to him in a deep hug. ‘Listen. Agnes had a rough time with that headteacher guy, right? But she also had this John, and John definitely loved her. John was crazy about her.’

‘Yes, but then he probably died in the war. And she had to be alone for the rest of her life.’ Tara’s voice cracked a little. ‘That’s sad.’

‘But, Tara. Agnes loved her work. She was headmistress for like forty years, you said? She loved those kids. And she was loved. All right, maybe not for her whole life, but she still had something beautiful with John. Think of that. Don’t think about what she lost. She might not have thought that she lost anything.’

‘Maybe,’ Tara sniffed. ‘But I lost you for ten years. That was terrible.’

‘I know. But then we got a second chance.’ Ramsay met her eyes with a steady gaze. ‘And, anyway, look at what else you have. You’ve got your family. Your friends. A job you love.’

‘And dancing. I’ve rediscovered that. Agnes inspired me to remember the things that make me happy, and be resilient,’ Tara added.

‘Exactly. You’re lucky. We’re lucky. Let’s honour her memory by remembering her and John every single day. And honour her by loving each other, and living our lives joyfully, and knowing how lucky we are.’

‘All right.’ Tara nodded, and laid her head on his chest. ‘We are lucky to get a second chance.’ She was filled with gratitude; everything Ramsay said was true. If she was like Agnes, like Dotty had always said she was, then she could take the best parts of Agnes’ example: her ability to love, her dedication to her children and the school, and do as she had. But, at the same time, she could be grateful for the circumstances that had brought her love back to her. And, perhaps, somewhere, Agnes would know, and be happy.

Her hand found the jewellery box in her pocket and she drew it out. ‘Ramsay? Would you help me with something?’ She opened it and took the necklace out, gently. ‘I stopped wearing it… but I’d like to wear it again. If you didn’t mind.’

‘Of course I don’t mind.’ He took it from her gently and fastened it around her neck. ‘Back where it belongs,’ he said, and kissed her.