Free Fields of Blue Flax by Sue Lawrence Page A

following day, Christine was in her kitchen ladling soup from a large pan into a blender. She put a tea towel over the lid and switched it on. There was a whoosh of green from the base as the lid and tea towel flew off and the contents splattered against the white wall and over the coffee machine. The thick gloop trickled slowly down the sides.
    ‘Dammit!’ She stomped to the sink and grabbed a cloth.
    Anna came into the room and burst out laughing. ‘God, Mum, what’s with the Jackson Pollock thing?’
    Christine’s eyes were blazing. She said nothing, just started to wipe at the mess, fist clenched tight around the cloth.
    Anna went towards her with a roll of kitchen paper. ‘Here, let me help. What happened?’
    ‘The lid wasn’t on right.’ She lifted the coffee machine to wipe underneath.
    ‘What was it?’
    ‘Organic watercress and spinach, took me ages and now it’s all over the counter.’
    ‘Mum, it’s fine, and the patient couldn’t care less if it’s homemade, organic or a tin of Heinz. You’ve got to stop treating him like an invalid.’
    ‘But he is an invalid! He was in intensive care, he could have…’
    ‘But he didn’t,’ said Anna.
    ‘Well the fact of the matter is he has two broken ribs and a fractured pelvis. I don’t want him getting up unless he absolutely has to. The whole thing just makes me so angry, I could kill the man who crashed into you, I really could.’
    ‘Mum, sit down,’ said Anna, taking the cloth from her mum and continuing to wipe up the mess. ‘Besides, my bruises still look a lot worse than his. Look how fetching this yellow hue is!’ She pointed at the lines of bruises across her chest.
    Christine started to laugh, then tears began to roll down her cheeks. ‘Sorry, sweetheart, I’m just so tired I feel I’ve done nothing but cook and serve tea and coffee for all the visitors.’
    ‘Well, you’ve got to stop being such a martyr about it all and let Dad and me help.’
    ‘Dad’s never here, Anna.’
    ‘Mum, that’s not fair, he does have a job to go to and…’
    ‘And what about me? Don’t I have a job? Just because I’m on Easter holidays.’
    ‘Mum, you’ve got to try to de-stress. Let me make you a camomile tea.’
    Christine’s shoulders slumped and she wiped at her eyes. ‘Thanks, Anna. What would I do without you.’
    Christine stood up and took a tray from the cupboard, setting it with knife, spoon and plate.
    ‘And Jack wants to get up for meals now, you don’t need to take him up a tray. Sit down!’
    ‘Well, I’ll just take him a snack just now. Maybe he can come down for dinner, we’ll see how he’s feeling.’

 
    Chapter Fifteen
    2014
    Mags got off the bus in St Andrew Square and strolled down onto Princes Street. The flags on the castle ramparts were flapping in the strong breeze. As she climbed the wide steps to the entrance to Register House, she wondered how on earth she had found herself so caught up in investigating her family history; a month ago she wouldn’t have cared. But since the accident, Christine had been constantly stressed; she seemed hell-bent on wreaking revenge on Colin Clarkson, even though the kids were fine.
    Although Christine wasn’t yet back at school, she insisted she had no time for anything apart from lesson planning, so Mags was going solo today. She sat down and took out her sheets of scribbled notes from her last visit.
    Maybe if she found something interesting in Register House she could suggest they drive north to Dundee and Tannadice to see where Elizabeth Barrie had lived. Concentrating on tracking down their ancestor was surely better than trying to hunt down a stranger for dubious reasons.
    Mags had just begun to look into the 1871 census when her phone beeped. She looked around, wondering if she’d be told off, but no one seemed bothered. It was a text from Doug asking where she was – he had just popped home for lunch and the house was empty without her.
    ‘Register House. Back