shortly, but it would appear Mr McKinnon has to take Ballyford to him.’
Amy took a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and wiped the flour from her eyes.
‘’Tis a sad state of affairs. I think of those fabulous dinner parties I used to cater for and now, I make pies for the staff meals. Five children born into Ballyford and five children dead. Who would have thought we would be saying that when they first married, eh, and what a day to remember that was? It took me three months from beginning to end to make that cake.’
Mrs McKinnon looked towards the window as she heard the sound of hooves on the cobbled path leading through the arch to the kitchen garden from the main drive. She saw Jack’s cart turn the corner and slowly make its way down the path as the wheels dipped in and out of the grooves.
‘Here’s Jack, so, let’s put on a brave face shall we? You know the man has a soft spot for you. Mr McKinnon reckons the reason he fixed up the thatch on that cottage of his is because he is working himself up to make a proposal.’
Mrs McKinnon laughed as she waved out of the window to Jack and went to open the back door.
‘Merciful God, he would be a foolish man indeed to do that at our age. That’s the notion of a young man. What would he be thinking of?’ Amy blushed as bright as the beets she had simmering on the huge kitchen range. ‘I’m too old for any of that nonsense and that man surely has more sense than wanting to spend what’s left of his life with a woman bigger, stronger and cleverer than himself.’
Amy wiped her floury hands on her powdery apron as she and Mrs McKinnon grinned at each other.
‘Can I see the new girl,’ said little Mary, hovering behind Amy.
‘No, you cannot, not until I have. Get back to the chickens.’ Mary scuttled off to sit back on her upturned pail.
Mrs McKinnon opened the door and the first sight to greet her was Ruby Flynn, standing on the doorstep with a white face and a bag in her hand.
‘Goodness me, child, you look as though you are about to faint, come away inside,’ she said.
Mary, ignoring Amy’s warning, rushed forward to greet Ruby and, taking her hand, led her into the kitchen.
‘Have ye made me another one of those pies, Amy?’ said Jack, lifting his cap in greeting.
‘Get off, you cheeky bugger,’ said Amy.
‘You are a hard woman, Amy. Ye steal my heart by charming my stomach and then ye starve me of the pleasure I have come to enjoy. I dream about your pies, Amy.’
Bustling and blushing, Amy placed a hot potato pie in Jack’s hand, then, with a tilt of his cap and a wink at Mrs McKinnon, Jack was back out of the door.
Before he left, he whispered, in an altogether more serious tone, ‘The girl, she had a funny turn as we came up the drive, I thought she was about to fall clean off the wagon. She had been right as rain all the way here. I reckon maybe ’twas the size or the sight of the castle that did it. Had to stop for a second, I did. Maybe she needs a bit of Amy’s food in her belly. Don’t think convent food is up to much for those girls, all stick thin they are.’
‘Aye, we will feed her, Jack,’ said Mrs McKinnon. ‘I treat all my girls well, as does Amy. We look after each other.’
Mrs McKinnon turned to Ruby, as she closed the kitchen door. ‘Sit down, girl, and let’s get a cuppa and a meal inside you. You have lots to learn over the next few weeks. Now, are you feeling all right?’
Ruby nodded. ‘I am fine, thank you, Mrs McKinnon. I think it was the cart, the wobbling back and forth, it made me a bit sickly.’
Mrs McKinnon handed Ruby a cup from the staff press as Amy waddled around the table with a teapot and a slice of the hot pie, baked to perfection with its brown and glazed crust.
‘Eat up,’ she said kindly. I’ll butter you a slice of bread to have with it. Ruby, is it?’
Ruby nodded in response. The smell of the hot pie was reviving her and her mouth began to water.
‘I’m away to
Amy took a handkerchief out of her apron pocket and wiped the flour from her eyes.
‘’Tis a sad state of affairs. I think of those fabulous dinner parties I used to cater for and now, I make pies for the staff meals. Five children born into Ballyford and five children dead. Who would have thought we would be saying that when they first married, eh, and what a day to remember that was? It took me three months from beginning to end to make that cake.’
Mrs McKinnon looked towards the window as she heard the sound of hooves on the cobbled path leading through the arch to the kitchen garden from the main drive. She saw Jack’s cart turn the corner and slowly make its way down the path as the wheels dipped in and out of the grooves.
‘Here’s Jack, so, let’s put on a brave face shall we? You know the man has a soft spot for you. Mr McKinnon reckons the reason he fixed up the thatch on that cottage of his is because he is working himself up to make a proposal.’
Mrs McKinnon laughed as she waved out of the window to Jack and went to open the back door.
‘Merciful God, he would be a foolish man indeed to do that at our age. That’s the notion of a young man. What would he be thinking of?’ Amy blushed as bright as the beets she had simmering on the huge kitchen range. ‘I’m too old for any of that nonsense and that man surely has more sense than wanting to spend what’s left of his life with a woman bigger, stronger and cleverer than himself.’
Amy wiped her floury hands on her powdery apron as she and Mrs McKinnon grinned at each other.
‘Can I see the new girl,’ said little Mary, hovering behind Amy.
‘No, you cannot, not until I have. Get back to the chickens.’ Mary scuttled off to sit back on her upturned pail.
Mrs McKinnon opened the door and the first sight to greet her was Ruby Flynn, standing on the doorstep with a white face and a bag in her hand.
‘Goodness me, child, you look as though you are about to faint, come away inside,’ she said.
Mary, ignoring Amy’s warning, rushed forward to greet Ruby and, taking her hand, led her into the kitchen.
‘Have ye made me another one of those pies, Amy?’ said Jack, lifting his cap in greeting.
‘Get off, you cheeky bugger,’ said Amy.
‘You are a hard woman, Amy. Ye steal my heart by charming my stomach and then ye starve me of the pleasure I have come to enjoy. I dream about your pies, Amy.’
Bustling and blushing, Amy placed a hot potato pie in Jack’s hand, then, with a tilt of his cap and a wink at Mrs McKinnon, Jack was back out of the door.
Before he left, he whispered, in an altogether more serious tone, ‘The girl, she had a funny turn as we came up the drive, I thought she was about to fall clean off the wagon. She had been right as rain all the way here. I reckon maybe ’twas the size or the sight of the castle that did it. Had to stop for a second, I did. Maybe she needs a bit of Amy’s food in her belly. Don’t think convent food is up to much for those girls, all stick thin they are.’
‘Aye, we will feed her, Jack,’ said Mrs McKinnon. ‘I treat all my girls well, as does Amy. We look after each other.’
Mrs McKinnon turned to Ruby, as she closed the kitchen door. ‘Sit down, girl, and let’s get a cuppa and a meal inside you. You have lots to learn over the next few weeks. Now, are you feeling all right?’
Ruby nodded. ‘I am fine, thank you, Mrs McKinnon. I think it was the cart, the wobbling back and forth, it made me a bit sickly.’
Mrs McKinnon handed Ruby a cup from the staff press as Amy waddled around the table with a teapot and a slice of the hot pie, baked to perfection with its brown and glazed crust.
‘Eat up,’ she said kindly. I’ll butter you a slice of bread to have with it. Ruby, is it?’
Ruby nodded in response. The smell of the hot pie was reviving her and her mouth began to water.
‘I’m away to
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