There’s Always Tomorrow – Episode 17
There's Always Tomorrow by Mark Neilson
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- 1. There’s Always Tomorrow – Episode 17
The very air seemed to shine around them, as if the ghosts of ancient history were gathered, watching.
When they passed the farm, the fields fell steeply away. The sea was everywhere, with its shifting patterns of greys and silver.
Down in a hollow there was another patch of tall trees, and to its northern edge there was what looked like an old grey manse.
Only as they reached its entry gate, however, did Helen realise that this hid the Old Kirk of Kinneff.
“We’re here,” Larry murmured. “I’ll stay with the dogs. The church door’s usually open.
“If you want to hide something, it’s best hidden in open view.”
The wind came sharp from the sea with the taste of salt in it, rustling through the trees.
With the sea surging around it, the old church seemed so small and peaceful.
Helen went inside. Light filtered through the shadows, falling almost as spotlights on to a cushion at the far end of the church.
Sparkling on that cushion sat an old crown, with a sceptre and a sword crossed beneath it.
Time seemed to spill away.
She gasped, stepping back. She felt Larry reach out to steady her.
“It’s all right,” he said quietly from behind. “They’re only replicas.”
Gleaming in the shadows, they seemed more than that.
They were potent symbols of nationhood, for which many men had died and others had held out against starvation.
Helen’s head spun, sensing the terror of a parish minister, called far from his normal duty to dig, hide, then guard the most precious treasure in the land.
She sensed that his fear was not so much for himself – although he faced certain death – but that his hasty hiding place would be discovered, and Cromwell would get what he had brought his powerful army here to find.
To take back with him not just the Scottish Crown Jewels, but the very soul of Scotland.
She felt Larry’s arm reach reassuringly around her, and she sensed his lips brush gently across her hair.
“It gets you,” he said quietly. “The atmosphere of the church. The story.”
She eased herself away and looked up into his grey eyes.
Then he patted her arms and drew his hands away.
“Lesson two,” he stated. “There are things in this world more important than any individual and his problems.
“Things which shine through the dark days and give us inspiration.”
He smiled.
“They inspire people not just to die for them, but to find within themselves the courage to be better than they really are.”
It was three days later when Lorna checked again the spread of buttered scones and small neat slices of cake that she had bought for the occasion.
They were simple rather than over-stated – just as she wanted them.
“Is there any sign of people yet, Wullie?” she asked.
He shifted uneasily at his post beside the front window.
“No’ yet,” he replied. “Mind you, it’s early yet.”
She checked her retirement clock that had found a permanent home on the mantelpiece above the fire, having visited several other places en route.
“We’re twenty minutes late. Are you sure you put that notice on the shop’s window? And that people will see?”
“They’ll see. We’ve wifies in this village who can see round corners.”
Lorna nodded and shifted the plate of buttered scones a little to the right.
She had phoned the owner of the shop to confirm he was willing to sell it to the community, then studied the starter pack of information and advice until she knew it off by heart.
This was her first step: getting the local community on side and ready to support the venture.
“Here’s two coming,” Wullie said from the window. “The ones from the cottages at Kincraig Farm.
“The woman with all the animals and Larry Anderson from Laurencekirk,” he explained.
“He’s good farming stock and was injured in the Afghan war.”
Lorna gave a sigh of relief and hurried to the door to welcome the first people to the meeting.