‘Mysterious colour of midnight oceans and sky,
Torching a path from the darkness of fear
To the indigo brightness of intuition.’

The Same Saturday Afternoon at Brigg Farm

Once Netta had left for England Peg sighed with relief that the visit had gone without a hitch even though Gus sulked and moaned as usual about his head hurting and didn’t want to do his farm chores. His girny gripes just got on her nerves as she stripped the visitor’s bed and tidied up the room. It was going to be a fine day for a stint in the front garden, a chance to prune the rose border that brightened up the side of the pathway to the front door.

When she came in at teatime Gus was nowhere to be seen and she called out to the yardboy to go and find him. When he returned empty-handed she began to get anxious and searched the byres herself. It was just on the off chance that she popped her head round the bedroom door and smiled. Gus had tucked himself up on his bed and gone to sleep with Yumpy.

She felt his forehead. He was hot but temperatures were often highest in the early evening so she closed the curtains to let him sleep off his sulks and over-excitement. If he woke up later he could have supper downstairs. She told Angus that Netta had worn out the poor child with all their stravaigin’ about the coast. Measles, chickenpox, mumps… Peg reeled off all the childhood illnesses one by one. He had been vaccinated for smallpox and diphtheria. He must have picked something up playing with Jamie Paterson. He was just overtired.

The boy seemed better in the morning and had some porridge but his cheeks were still flushed and his eyes glassy. He waved Angus off to the church service in Stratharvar and then was promptly sick, which took the stuffing out of him. His head was hurting and he had a sore back so he curled up in the leather armchair with Yumpy in the heart of the kitchen, a bucket at the ready. By late morning he had taken himself off to bed again and Peg felt relieved that he was out of her hair, sleeping it all off. It was just some ‘summer tummy’ going round the district, no need to worry. Peg was never one for overfussing but some instinct kept making her check on the boy. Tomorrow he would probably be as right as rain and twice as noisy. Rest and plenty of fluids would do the trick. Nature would take its course in such a healthy young bairn.