Hill Manse ... Chapter 18

Chapter 18

Judith arrived just in time to see Margaret struggling with her suitcases through the heavy doors from the baggage pickup area. She jumped out of her car, gave her friend a quick hug, opened the boot and shoved in the luggage.

They headed for downtown Aberdeen talking nine to the dozen as they each brought the other up to date on their latest design projects. Pulling into a street that boasted several upscale dress shoppes, Judith parked the car.

“I splurged and bought a summer suit ... my wedding outfit, if you please.” She smiled and pulled Margaret into the chic shoppe. “Last fitting today ... taking it home.”

Hefting a large shopping bag on each arm, Judith unlocked the car’s boot and settled the bags between the bulky cases. “Safe enough, now.” She said, slamming the lid and turning the key. “Let’s eat.”

It was a swanky pub with a café’ attached a block further up the street and it attracted a modish clientele.

“Don’t often get to do ‘fancy’. But, Hunter said we were to treat ourselves today and he reached into his pocket and handed me a generous wad of the ‘ready’. So, we’ll do just that.”

Conversation lagged as the ladies enjoyed the cream of leek and potato soup followed by smoked haddock pate’ with salad and oatcakes, finishing up the meal with wedges of St. Andrews cheese, grapes and apple slices. Daintily wiping their lips with damask napkins, they each sighed rapturously and giggled. Leaning comfortably into their high-backed chairs, swirling the light but tangy white house wine in their goblets, the friends continued their chat.

“As I was saying, Hunter divorced Rhona in ’52. She took their three girls to Inverness to be near her family. She has since remarried, but their oldest girl, Elspeth, is terribly fond of her da and the divorce was difficult for her. The other girls adjusted but Elspeth never did. Last year, Ellie ran away. Fifteen’s a difficult age, to be sure, but predictable, and the police quickly figured out where she’d likely go ... found her on a bus to Aberdeen ... on her way to see her father. This happened twice. Her latest act of rebellion was much more serious. She’d run off with her fifteen-year-old boyfriend, Peter, and was missing for nearly a week. Hunter was out of his mind with worry. Rhona frantically sent for him and they both talked to the kid’s friends, their parents and checked out the places where they ‘spent time’. Eventually, the two runaways came back on their own ... hungry, dirty and tired. They’d been squatting in a room in the worst part of Inverness. It’s a wonder they weren’t beaten or killed.”

Judith peered over her glass at Margaret, her expression rather pensive. “I’ll get right to the knot of the story. Elspeth is pregnant ... just turned sixteen and she’s pregnant. Understandably, Rhona’s at her wits end, as I would be. Hunter doesn’t know what to do, either. He and I are to be married this weekend. How does a pregnant teen fit into that picture, I’d like to know.”

Margaret was listening, remembering how she felt being the object of similar anger, worry and shame. “Are both sets of parents objecting to Peter and Elspeth getting married?”

“They’d accept it, I suppose. But, Peter is scared silly about being forced to marry and be a father, therefore, Elspeth says, no ... he’d hate her and the baby; it wouldn’t work. She says there has to be a way for her to keep her baby. I think she’s hoping her father and I will support her and the child, she knows her mother and stepfather won’t.”

“And, this, neither of you wants to take on?”

“It’s the last thing we want to do. We are two people selfishly in love who want to start a new life together... just us. We don’t want to have to deal with a difficult teenager and a baby every day and every night. We’d have no privacy ... there would be no time for just the two of us.”

“And, Elspeth won’t consider putting her child up for adoption?”

“No, she absolutely rejects that option. Hunter and Rhona adopted her as a babe in the summer of 1940 and, though she knew her parents loved her, she’d always felt different. Her two younger sisters were fair-haired and blue eyed like their parents. Ellie had very dark hair and dark eyes. She was a sensitive, rather timid child and kids tended to be cruel. Some lads followed her home from school one day ... called her a dirty little gypsy found in a dustbin. Hunter put a stop to that ... knocked the bullies heads together. By that time, though, Ellie already felt she didn’t belong.”

“Was she adopted from the hospital in Aberdeen?” Margaret held her breath.

“A Foundling Home in Aberdeen. During the war, hospitals sent relinquished babies to Foundling Homes. Then the Homes would take care of the adoption procedures.”

“Where is Elspeth now?”

“She’s at Hunter’s house. I’ve been staying with friends.” Judith was not happy at having to stay with ‘friends’.

“When is the baby due to be born?”

“She’s not been to a doctor, yet, but a guess would be about next January.”

....

Cara couldn’t stop smiling as she made another round of the house with Margaret in tow, marveling at the transformation, the contrasting color schemes and furnishings in each room, at how all the rooms were in harmony with the whole, and how the integrity of the house was still in tact.

“I love it, darling, I couldn’t be more pleased.”

“Judith deserves most of the credit. I helped choose the colors, fabrics and furnishings, but she had to put it all together.”

“Don’t be so modest.” Duff said laying his arm across her shoulders. “It may have been a long-distance decorating relationship, but we know that your finger was on the pulse of everything that went on here. The telephone charges between London and Sto’ven were staggering. I’m ready for a spot of tea ... what?”

“Sounds lovely. Judith and I had a marvelous lunch in Aberdeen and now I just want to sit and be idle.”

“Hauling you off to town as soon as you’d arrived was a bit inconsiderate, don’t you think?” Cara handed her a steaming cup. “What was so urgent it couldn’t have waited until tomorrow?”

“Had to pick up the dress she’s to be married in on Saturday. Offering to pick me up was very kind of her. Saved Duff the trip.”

Stirring a spoon of sugar into her tea, she sighed. “There is something I must tell you both. It has to do with the baby I gave away sixteen years ago.” Margaret didn’t dare look up. She knew she was causing trouble ... again. “I can’t be sure she’s mine of course, but ... “ Her voice cracked and tears began to trickle down her cheeks.

“Oh, Margaret, my dear.” Cara stood and looked around her. “Surely there’s a box of tissues close by. Duff, help us out here.”

Dipping into his inside jacket pocket, Duff retrieved a large monogrammed lawn handkerchief.

“Blow your nose, baby girl ... we’re listening.”

Margaret pulled herself together and told Duff and Cara all that Judith had shared with her about Hunter’s oldest girl, declaring again that Elspeth might be the baby she gave up for adoption.

“There is a possibility that this girl could be your child, but there’s no way of proving it. Adoption records are sealed. Legally, that information is never to be disclosed to either the birth mother or the child.” Duff puffed thoughtfully on a cigarette as he paced the floor. “I doubt that revealing what you suspect to the Munro’s or their daughter would be helpful, as such a claim would be circumstantial at best as well as distressing to the parties involved.”

“I’m not thinking of doing any such thing,” exclaimed Margaret defensively. “Elspeth wants to keep her baby just as I wanted to keep mine!”

Cara wrapped her arm around Margaret’s shoulder. “She’s only sixteen, darling. She has no money, no willing parents to house her and her baby, and her decisions are based on body-changing emotions, not practicalities. One has to think objectively, Margaret.”

Duff sat next to his sister and laid his hand over hers. “Da and I know that Mother wasn’t thinking of you or your baby when she sent you off to Scotland. But, Margaret, would you really have wanted your child referred to as ... the Gregor bastard?”

Stiffening, she glared up at him, tears swimming in her eyes and gasped, “No, I couldn’t have borne that.” Wiping her eyes, she looked away.

“Even if ... and, it is a big if ... you are this girl’s birth mother”, he continued, “It would not be your fault that she is in the fix that she’s in. It’s not her parent’s fault, either. She’s a young teen with a juvenile brain. She’s made unfortunate choices and insists on inflicting the consequences of those choices on others. That’s what children do!”

“I understand, I truly do. But, I still want to help her ... them, I mean. Judith is my friend. I want to talk to Charlotte. She is really good at figuring things out.”

...

“Charlotte? Margaret here. How are you ... and Da?”

“Both of us are quite well. And, how was your flight, dear?”

“Fine, fine ... Uhh, I need to talk to you about something ... Mom.”

“Oh, dear. Mom, is it? Let me sit down. All right, darling, tell me all about it.”

The next fifteen minutes was a herky-jerky long distance narrative that included Judith’s initial bombshell about her upcoming marriage to Hunter Munro and her future stepdaughter’s pregnancy and how the Munro family was not handling it well and who Margaret thought Elspeth might be and her tearful reaction when Duff talked of her baby being called a bastard.

“My dear, dear girl. You are in a state. Come now ... catch your breath. I’m so sorry I’m not there with you. If Cara is close by, let me speak to her for just a minute while you compose yourself.”

“Yes, Charlotte, Cara here.”

“Cara, dear, tell Duff to stop trying to talk ‘commonsense’ to Margaret right now. It is not going to help her. Imagine, if you can, that you’d given up Donal at birth and believed you had just found him ... today. That’s how Margaret feels. She’s in the midst of an emotional muddle and objective reasoning is an irritating nuisance. Let her know you understand how she feels. Give her some brandy and let her talk. Just listen to her. “

“Right you are, Charlotte. Here’s Margaret.”

“Tell me what to do, please.” Margaret sniffed. “We have to think of something.”

“Yes, dear. You’re right. We have to think of something. Give me some time to mull over the state of affairs. If you worry the problem too much, darling, it could overwhelm you ... we can’t have that. Try to sleep tonight. I’ll call you tomorrow ... before teatime.”