Faith Read online

  She was close to total exhaustion as she spotted a man on the roof of a house which was up a farm track. By then she was afraid she was never going to find the commune. When she’d asked for directions in Castle Douglas, she’d met a touch of hostility, and only vague instructions just to take the road to Dalbeattie.

  Although she couldn’t see the man’s face as he came towards her car, because the sun was in her eyes, his long coppery-brown hair, bare chest and cut-down Levis all made her heart leap, for at least he was unlikely to be affronted when she asked where the commune was.

  Her very first thought was that he was a bit simple, for he stared at her vacantly for some moments before answering her question. But when he did speak, his voice was like music and she realized he was a little stunned by her.

  She ought to have been horrified by ‘the hoose’, as everyone called that place. A few days later she overheard a man in Castle Douglas call it ‘the hoose where all those dirty hippies stay’. It was almost falling down, with weeds growing up through the roof, no electricity or hot water, and precious little furniture. Yet she felt no horror, for the sun was dazzling, there were trees and lush long grass, and someone had fixed a gaily striped awning above a rough table and benches outside.

  The man who introduced himself as Stuart told her it wasn’t a commune but a mere squat, without any other children there. The fact that everyone else in the place was still sleeping meant drugs and heaven knows what else, so any sensible mother would have got back in her car and driven off. But there was something about Stuart, with his kind grey eyes, strong chin and a gentlemanly quality that made her feel she could trust him with Barney while she just slept for a while.

  It was in the evening that she felt herself being drawn towards him, and even though she tried to tell herself that he was too young for her and too unworldly, she had a feeling she was in the grip of destiny and she had no choice in the matter but just to flow with it.

  His feelings showed openly on his face – a good face, she thought, as she watched him covertly in the light of the campfire while he played his guitar. She’d already been told by Josie, a hard-faced Londoner with squaw-like plaits, that Stuart had made the rough table and benches from some fallen trees and had fixed the ancient range in the kitchen so they could cook on it. Josie had joked he was the ideal man to be shipwrecked with, as he’d build you a house and catch you food without any trouble. She also added that she thought he was sexy.

  Laura thought he was sexy too, though not in the strutting, narcissistic way of the men she knew around Chelsea, who had honed their skills as lovers through endless loveless practice. Stuart’s sexiness was of the innate kind, which extended to everything he did. As he bent over his guitar he was almost making love to it, and while eating earlier he’d shown the same passion, enjoying every mouthful.

  His lean hips, the width of his shoulders and the muscles in his arms had not been achieved by weight-lifting or strenuous sport, only through his work. He was a man at peace with himself, uncomplicated, honest and joyful.

  She’d observed him playing with Barney earlier, throwing him up in the air, playfighting and rolling around with him, a natural father even though he professed to have had no previous experience with small children. She found that touching, for Greg had never been comfortable or at ease with his son.

  Stuart wouldn’t stand out in a crowd – his complexion was unfashionably ruddy, and his teeth weren’t too good. But the thoughtfulness of his grey eyes, the sensuality of his wide mouth and the straight, rather aristocratic nose, made her pulse race. If he didn’t attempt to seduce her, and she doubted he would, for he seemed a little shy and in awe of her, then she intended to seduce him.

  It happened seamlessly. They went into Stuart’s room to put Barney to bed and suddenly they were kissing. Laura had never known that kind of instant, all-consuming passion before. In the past, when she felt she desired someone enough to go to bed with them, there was always a period before peeling off her clothes when she felt tense and apprehensive. She would take herself off to a bathroom to wash and clean her teeth, often prolonging this to put off the moment when she’d got to go back to the man. She had often semi-jokingly told Jackie that she’d like it better if she could get undressed in the dark and slip into bed without being seen, or seeing her partner.

  But Stuart just blew away all her inhibitions. Her clothes came off effortlessly and without embarrassment, and just the touch of his bare chest against hers, the smell of the bonfire on their skin, those hard, manly hands caressing her was all the aphrodisiac she needed.

  His chin was stubbly, they were both sweaty and in need of a shower, but that only seemed to give the lovemaking an extra edge. Greg had made love to her as if he was following a sex manual; he knew the right buttons to push, but it was predictable and lacking in fire.

  The fire was so hot with Stuart that she felt she might explode. They devoured each other like ravaging beasts, yet there were moments of such sweet tenderness that she found herself crying and felt his cheeks too were wet with tears. It was incomparable with anything that had gone before; no man had ever touched her soul the way Stuart did, and she had never wanted to please anyone more.

  When the first light of dawn came peeping through the grimy window, he was kneeling between her legs, his hands on her breasts, just looking at her. Everything she felt at that moment was mirrored in his face – wonderment, exultation and love. Nothing needed to be said; they knew that tomorrow, next week and even next year they would be bound together as tightly as they were now.

  She remembered then how just before she married Greg, she’d asked Meggie’s opinion on how you knew if you were truly in love. She thought it had to be love she felt for Greg, but she wasn’t absolutely certain. She told Meggie she’d always imagined that real love would make you melt into each other.

  It did with Stuart. She loved everything about him, from his loping walk, his tangled hair, the smell of his sweat, to his voice and kisses. She wouldn’t want to change a single thing.

  It was a dream of a summer. It must have rained some days, but Laura didn’t remember anything but blue skies, warmth and happiness. Such happiness!

  She did all kinds of things she’d never done before: bathing in a stream, which Stuart called a burn, making bread in the old range, collecting wood for the fire, and making love in woods and fields. Sometimes they drove to a beach, sometimes they walked in forests, and Stuart would carry Barney on his shoulders for miles.

  In the evenings they lit a bonfire and lay around it with the rest of the gang, singing, laughing and chatting. Stuart often urged her to sing as he played his guitar, but she preferred just to listen to him. Whether he was evoking the fire of flamenco, or playing heart-rending love songs, happy folk music or joyful rock and roll, to see his head bent over his instrument, his eyes dreamily half closed and his fingers like quicksilver on the strings, made her heart contract with love for him.

  She realized then she’d never truly loved before. She cared far more for Stuart than she did for herself, and never wanted to be apart from him. The way he was with Barney, natural, easy and loving, seeing him not as a slightly irritating accessory of hers, but a major part of her, was so soothing. And Barney responded to him gleefully, sensing this was one man he could trust implicitly.

  She found it odd that she no longer cared about material things. She wore the same old clothes day in, day out, she didn’t crave restaurant meals, night clubs or trips to the cinema. They had nothing, only each other, and it was the purest, sweetest thing she had ever known.

  By the end of September they were waking to chilly mist and the nights were drawing in; suddenly everyone began to talk about moving on. Some thought they’d go to Morocco, others just back to London.

  ‘We have to be sensible,’ Stuart said when Laura suggested they went to Morocco too. ‘That’s no place to take Barney, he might get sick there. Besides, I’ve got very little money left, and I must get back to work
to look after you both.’

  ‘But where will we live?’ she asked.

  Stuart smiled and patted her cheek the way he always did when she looked worried. ‘We can’t live in a squat through a Scottish winter, but I’ll find us somewhere cosy in Edinburgh.’

  Laura smiled to herself at all those wonderful memories; reliving them had made her relaxed and peaceful. She wondered if Stuart thought back on them in the same way, or whether what happened later had destroyed them for him.

  She often told people who knew Stuart in those days that the reason they broke up was because he was too young and naive for her, and that was a small part of it. Another part was the cultural differences between them when they moved to Edinburgh.

  The south had had a huge shake-up during the late sixties. Feminism, the Pill and the hippie culture had all changed the traditional family values and moral codes Laura remembered from the 1950s. No one batted an eye at unmarried mothers or couples living together before marriage any more. Women had moved into traditionally male jobs and they could rise much higher in most companies and professions. While there was still inequality in male and female wages, things were moving in the right direction and society was becoming much fairer.

  Laura had assumed the same had happened in Scotland, so it was something of a shock, after the free and easy life in Castle Douglas, to find Edinburgh still had one foot in the Dark Ages and the women were still subservient to their men.

  She could hardly believe that men could come home from work, eat their tea, put on the clean ironed shirt their wife had ready for them and then disappear off to the pub, night after night. It was an unwelcome echo of her own childhood, and she couldn’t understand why their women didn’t protest.

  She found it odd, too, that the Scots she met at that time seemed to have little interest in the decor of their homes. Going into one was like stepping back into the fifties. Even people with quite good jobs had very shabby homes, and few owned their own houses.

  Her very first impression of Edinburgh was one of wonder. She gazed at the majestic Castle standing proud up on a vast rock as they drove into the city and could hardly wait to explore it. She saw, too, the elegant Georgian New Town with its wide streets and leafy squares and felt this was a city she could give her heart to.

  But there was no time to explore. Stuart was anxious to find work quickly and in the meantime they were to stay with his parents.

  Mr and Mrs Macgregor were welcoming enough, especially to Barney, but Laura sensed an undercurrent of disapproval that their son was involved with an older married woman. Mrs Macgregor showed Laura and Barney to Stuart’s old bedroom and made it quite plain that he would be sleeping on the sofa.

  ‘I will not have carrying on in my house,’ she said quietly but firmly.

  Laura wished then that she’d anticipated this and found a room to rent. She felt badly about starting off on the wrong foot with this softly spoken, sweet-faced woman.

  In most ways Stuart’s parents were what she expected, for his honesty, dignity and good manners were clearly the result of a careful upbringing. They were in their late fifties, both with grey hair, his mother small and tubby and his father around five feet eight with a craggy face and the same strong jawline as Stuart. But Laura was surprised by the humbleness of their two-bedroom flat. Knowing Mr Macgregor was a first-class tradesman, she had imagined he earned very good money. Yet they had no washing machine, their fridge was ancient, and the kitchen, though scrupulously clean, was very old-fashioned. Even more surprisingly, Stuart told her that they moved there when he was ten, and at that time his brother and sister were still living at home. She wondered how they had all fitted in.

  Laura wasn’t happy staying with the Macgregors, as by day Stuart was out hunting for work, and she was left with his mother. It seemed rude to take Barney out and explore Edinburgh when she was an uninvited guest. Stuart didn’t seem to want her to look for a flat for them until he’d got a job, so she had to spend the days helping his mother with her chores and going out to the local shops to buy food for dinner.

  Right from a child Laura had always been the one who cleaned, cooked and tidied up, and she found Mrs Macgregor’s assumption that she was undomesticated irritating. There was no variety in the meals she cooked either, meat and vegetables ruled, and she looked alarmed when Laura tentatively suggested that a pasta or rice dish might make a pleasant change.

  Even more irritating was that she had no time alone with Stuart. The minute his father had eaten his dinner he went to the pub, expecting Stuart to go with him. When she asked if she could go too, Mr Macgregor looked at her in astonishment.

  ‘Nay, lassie,’ he said. ‘’Tis all men there.’

  When Stuart got taken on to do the joinery in a school which was being modernized, they were both overjoyed. As he had a few days before he was needed, he began looking for a home for them. Again it was made quite clear by the Macgregors that this was a man’s job and Laura was to keep out of it.

  On the Friday before he was due to start the new job, he came home with a key. ‘I’ve got us a hoose,’ he said, grinning delightedly. ‘We can move in as soon as we’ve found some furniture.’

  It never occurred to Laura to ask him to define ‘hoose’, and she was soon to discover that the word meant merely ‘home’ to him.

  He took her to Caledonian Crescent that evening, and although Laura was delighted to find it was in the central, Haymarket area of the city, her heart sank a couple of notches when she saw it was a tenement, with a central staircase and four flats on each of the four floors. Their ‘hoose’, number 7, was on the second floor overlooking the street.

  Compared to her old home in Shepherds Bush it was gracious, and luxurious, by comparison with the squat in Castle Douglas, but the climb up the dingy stairs put her off before she’d even seen inside the flat. The poky hallway led into one gloomy room with a kitchen in a recess, one bedroom and a tiny bathroom, but the fact it was self-contained did nothing to lift her spirits. She felt ashamed she couldn’t be overjoyed – Stuart might very well have found a place where they had to share the bathroom.

  Yet she bit back her disappointment and suggested they painted it all white to brighten it up. With the £200 she’d still got in the bank, they could buy a second-hand bed, a little one for Barney, some cheap carpet, and maybe a settee too. They could make it nice.

  By Saturday night the bedroom was painted. They had a double bed and a single one for Barney, made up with sheets and blankets Mrs Macgregor had given them. Stuart had fixed a pole across the alcove to hold their clothes in and they even had curtains at the window and a bedside light made with a Chianti bottle.

  ‘We’ll make it all grand in time,’ Stuart said as he hugged her. ‘I’ll be making good money, we can buy a telly and a stereo before long, and till then I’ll entertain you with lovemaking and my guitar.’

  That was all she wanted or needed then. All through October, November and December while Stuart was working, she spent her days scouring the second-hand shops for oddments they needed, copying recipes from magazines in the library to cook economical, tasty meals for them, taking Barney on exploratory walks, and working on the flat to prettify it.

  She loved Edinburgh with her whole being, from the steep cobbled wynds and the extraordinary towering ancient tenements in the Old Town, to the magnificence of the Castle and Holyrood palace. She got books on the city’s history from the library and made Stuart laugh when she gleefully revelled in the darker side of it, with Burke and Hare the notorious body-snatchers, or the ghosts said to frequent the Old Town. She cried when she heard the story of Bobbie of Greyfriars churchyard, the dog who sat on his master’s grave for years after his death, and she felt indignant that Mary, Queen of Scots had been treated so badly. She couldn’t wait for spring so they could climb up to Arthur’s Seat, or go to the beach at Portobello.

  She was happy, really happy. She soon grew used to the other people who lived ‘on the stair’ taking an
inordinate amount of interest in her, and the cooking smells which wafted up and remained trapped. She didn’t mind the biting cold, going to tea with Stuart’s parents almost every Sunday and living on far less housekeeping money than she had with Greg.

  There was a cosiness about living with Stuart which she’d never experienced before. He took care of her in every way, from a cup of tea when he got up to go to work, to insisting she wasn’t to carry heavy shopping home but to wait for him to go with her. He was always enthusiastic about the meals she cooked him, he wanted to play with Barney when he got home, and though they couldn’t afford to go out much, the evenings and weekends with him were joyful times.

  But happy as she was with Stuart, she found it hard to accept that most Scots males were chauvinists. She had no problem with the ‘You’re just a wee lassie, let me lift that for you’ attitude of gentlemanly Scotsmen, for Stuart was like that too, but she hated the way so many of them showed little regard for their wives and took no part in their children’s upbringing.

  She got to know many women with children around the same age as Barney, but friendly and warm as these women were, it irritated her that they were resigned to an endless round of cooking, cleaning, washing and ironing and living on the tightest budget, while their man did as he pleased. They spoke longingly of wanting to go and visit relatives, to have a family holiday, or just having their husband home long enough one evening so they could discuss how the kids were doing at school. On the odd occasion when Laura expressed her view that they should take a firmer line with their men and demand the kind of equal relationship she had with Stuart, they just shrugged. ‘You an’ your London ways,’ they’d say, as if she came from another planet.

  She heard men out in the street stumbling home drunk from the pub on a Friday or Saturday night, and the violent rows that often broke out when they got in. She would listen to her friends’ complaints that their television had been repossessed because their husband hadn’t met the payments, or that they’d had to pawn something to pay the rent.