CHAPTER 8

Within a week Bea, although very weak was up and about. The doctors insisted she used crutches, for now, just to keep the weight off her leg, whilst it was obvious from the scar that the flesh damage was healing well, they had no idea about the muscle damage below.

Four weeks on the crutches they insisted then the use of a stick for a few more. Bea was simply happy to be up and about again, if she did as they advised then hopefully by the end of the month, early December at the latest, they would allow her to go home.

Most of her days were spent reading or writing, from being a small child she loved to do both. Other things had filled her time over the last few years, she had forgotten what joy she gained from such simple things. That would change, she thought. Over the last few weeks, she had done an awful lot of thinking and the one big lesson learned from this was how fragile life can be. It could end in the blink of an eye. That morning as she saddled up Lunar and headed off out never in her wildest dreams could she have foreseen the day ending as it did. Seize the day her Uncle Harry had told her, do not wait until it is too late. Now she understood what he meant and going forward that is exactly what she would do.

In early December, with everything looking good the doctors agreed to let her go home, under strict instructions which they knew Ethel would see were kept. This was the best Christmas present she could have hoped for.

Stan and Ethel had picked her up, Ted, one of the local men who often helped out had driven them into Newcastle. The fresh air felt so good Bea thought, soon she would be home, soon she would feel the warmth of Bramble Manor. The feeling she got returning there from wherever she had been was always the same, it was her sanctuary, it was her place.

Day by day her strength grew. By Christmas, she was walking with just the stick. Everyone watched over her making sure she did not try to push herself too far. They all knew Miss Bea and the determination she had. The stable lads were on high alert. Stan knew Bea would want to be out riding again as soon as she felt she could. The doctors however had advised not to even attempt that until after her check-up in January, so they were all warned not to let her near the tack room.

Visitors came and went, glad to see how well Bea was doing. Christmas preparations were underway, the whole house filled with the smell of fresh-cut pine, of Christmas spices, and roaring fires.

Bea had taken to spending a lot of her time in the library. This had always been her favourite room in this big old house. She had no idea, could not even guess, how many books it held. So many wonderful memories of hours spent with her uncle, listening to his stories, reading and being transported all over the globe, playing her guitar or even the banjo her uncle had bought her as a joke. The most wonderful roaring fire was blazing up the chimney, when there was a knock at the door, which was strange, no one would normally knock. Bea recognised the voice at once.

"Uncle Charles, come in, come in, "she said, all excited. The door opened and in walked Charles Ferguson, Uncle Charles as he had always been, he had no blood connection to Bea at all. A long-time family friend, he was the closest thing to family Bea had left now.

Bea got up to hug him but was immediately told to sit, he came over, sat beside her, and took her in his big still strong arms.

"Eee lass, I cannot tell you what a joy it is to see you looking so well. How are you doing?

You had us all so worried and me stuck on the other side of the bloody Atlantic. Don't think I have prayed so hard in all my life."

"Once my business was complete, I booked the first passage back I could. Only arrived in Liverpool yesterday. I did not even telephone, I just wanted to get up here as fast as I could. Seeing you looking so well is just the best Christmas present I could wish for. Oh, hope it's OK but I have invited myself to stay for the week" he laughed,

"Did you let Ethel know "Bea laughed back?

"She is a wise old bird is our Mrs. Hardy, she guessed", now they both laughed.

Bea thought this was the uncle she knew and loved. Often away on business, he would drop in like this, he had done since he and Uncle Harry had sold their business. Made their fortune. Whilst Harry had retired, invested, Charles had carried on working as a consultant, he travelled all over the world. Shipbuilding was in his blood; the two friends had made their money building and refitting ships on the River Tyne. Bea had no idea of the amounts involved at the time, however, upon his death, she had been her uncle's only beneficiary and was a wealthy woman. Not that you would know it. Many in her position would have lived the high life, the society life, that was not Bea. From an early age, she knew what she wanted to do with her life. It had been tough but with her uncle behind her, the help and support of all her teachers she had been accepted into the Royal Veterinary Hospital in Edinburgh to train as a Vet. One of the first females in the UK to be admitted. Having passed her exams and training, although not able to register officially, herself and others who followed her were fighting for this, the opportunity to move to the north of Scotland and practice had been presented to her. Miss Morag Beatrice Gregory worked hard and in the area was the sort after vet on the local estates. Anyone who ever saw her around animals could see the connection she seemed to have with them. Bea had always taken for granted this "gift" to be able to sense when an animal was in trouble. It was not until her early teens that she realised not everyone was the same.

Bea had loved her life however when her uncle had taken ill, she did not think twice about giving it all up and moving home to Bramble to help him through his final days. He had done so much for her over the years, he had loved her as if she were his own, there was no question or remorse she did the right thing.

Christmas was a quiet one but still magical as ever. The steady stream of visitors had continued, the house felt full again. Bramble was such a welcoming home; it may be a big old house, but it never felt empty.

Having Uncle Charles there meant so much. He always had such stories to tell about his travels, the places he had been, the people he had met, he was like a talking book she always thought.

On Boxing Day after yet another big dinner Bea was in the library drawing. She had been given a lovely set of graphite pencils as a present and had taken her sketch pad from the desk drawer to try them out. She had not heard or noticed Charles until he looked over her shoulder.

"What are we drawing then?"

"Oh this, I am not sure what it is to be truthful, something I saw, or imagined I saw."

"Now you have roped me in Missy, as always" he laughed "Come on tell me where or how?"

She smiled at him, "I do that don't I"

"Yes, you always have, from being a toddler".

"What's the story behind this? I am not sure what it is really, it looks a bit like a church I guess, very American-looking to me. I have seen similar buildings over there. It kind of looks familiar, mind they could all look the same."

"Uncle Charles, you are a well-travelled man, a well-read man, have you ever heard stories about people who have nearly died, like I did, saying they saw or heard things?"

"Well, I have read a few articles over the years. All sorts of theories about why things like that happen, why people think they have seen such things. I do know that in some religions followers believe that when someone dies their soul lives on. It passes onto a higher place. There is what I can only describe as a place between this world and the next and the soul must travel through it. Often people like you Bea who have nearly died say they can remember strange things as if they were in this space but then someone or something pulls them back. If that makes any sense.

"Oh, it does Uncle Charles, it does. It's not just me then?"

"Did something like that happen to you Hun?"

"It did, it's so hard to explain really but let me try."

Bea recalled everything she could remember. The feelings, what thought she had seen, felt, and heard.

"And so, in this place, wherever it was I thought this must be the way."

Next thing I knew Ethel was shouting and causing mayhem, my fever had broken, and I was back in the land of the living."

"This, this is the building I saw; I can still see it if I try. I keep thinking was it just a dream, but it felt too real to be a dream. Guess it sounds a bit bizarre really."

Charles looked again. "I know I have seen something like it just recently but for the love of me, I can't remember where. It does look very American to me, not something you would see here. Leave it with Bea I will rack my brain."

She thanked him. What she did not say was that something about this building was still calling to her, pulling her, when she thought about it, she could feel pain, no a knot may be a better word, in the pit of her stomach, she had never felt anything like it before. Maybe it would fade when the image faded but, in a way, she wanted to hold on to it.

Much later Bea was in bed reading when there was a knock at her door and Uncle Charles poked his head in.

"Am I OK to come in a minute, I know it's late, but I thought you would like to see this."

He had a magazine, periodical, in his hand.

"I remembered where I had seen that picture," he said. "I always buy lots to read on the crossings back and forth, this is an industry magazine, comes out every couple of months, news of what is happening here and there within different industries across the world. I like to keep in the know. Well, here is the thing, there is an article in here about a little town in Northwest Canada, a mining town it was. There was a horrendous accident there a few years ago, all the men and boys in the mine at the time were killed. Their widows faced being thrown out of their homes, they would be needed when new workers were brought in. They fought though, and they went into the mine and started work, well anyway you can read that bit. The mine is closed now, and the fortune of the town has been turned around, logging and lumber have taken over, business is booming. Now here is the thing Bea, originally the town was called Coal Valley but after the accident and as things started to improve, they changed its name. This little town with the schoolhouse that doubles as a church, that is what your building is, is called Hope Valley."

Bea felt that knot tighten, she felt the hairs stand up on the back of her neck. Charles handed her the magazine and sure enough, there in black and white was a photograph of the building she had seen, and it was in Hope Valley. She knew in that instant; she didn't know why, but she must visit this place. It was calling her, or something there was. This could well be one of those times when Dad was right, that something's just can't be explained, she intended to try and see first.