by Ruth Hay
I only intended to filch some money from his pocket if the opportunity arose, but he looked right into my eyes and asked me my name and I was so flustered I forgot to lie.
Harold was at least twenty-five years older than I, but he still had vestiges of the handsome young man he must once have been. His eyes were grey and fringed with long, dark lashes. His brown hair fell over his forehead and he staggered again as he let go my arm and raised his hand to brush it back. He was one of those charming drunks. I had met the ype before; all sweet words and twinkling eyes. Usually it was nothing more than an act, but Harold was the best actor I had ever met.
He gave me twenty pounds, a huge sum for a destitute girl to receive, and all he asked was a promise to meet him there the next night.
I spent the money on food and shoes and fought with myself the whole of the day about whether or not I should return to the pub that night.
Greed won out in the end. I might get more money from the man by smiling nicely, but, if trouble arose, I would speedily leave the area and never see him again.
I decided to take the risk.
He appeared half-way through the night, wearing a smart suit and tie and smelling only marginally of whisky. He was without the posse of drinking buddies and came over to my table to talk, with a beer for me as an opening gambit.
What struck me immediately, was the way he seemed genuinely interested in me. Long after most men would have moved on to the topic of how much I would charge for my favours, (the point at which I usually made a quick exit), he was still asking questions and listening to my answers.
I had soon run out of lies and found myself relating the sorry tale of my birth and adoption. I felt sure this would cause him to vanish into the night leaving me alone and more depressed, but, he passed the test, and stayed with me until ‘last orders’ were called.
I should have known right then that there was more to the situation than I could possibly have guessed.
My usual radar was lulled by my need of human warmth and the fact he had never laid a hand on me, or rushed me in any way.
It’s laughable to me now, but it only took a week before I accepted his invitation to a meal in a proper restaurant and from then on things escalated at an accelerated rate.
Once more my survival senses were not operating. I was beginning to see this man as an answer to prayer.
In those pleasant surroundings he revealed his story piece by piece. The fact that he never mentioned his wealthy family until he had secured my confidence seemed, then, to be proof of his honesty.
I could not have imagined how different the true situation really was. If I had had the wits to see through his charm, I would have run like the scared rabbit life had made of me.
* * *
“Anna? Anna! Are you all right? Fiona’s here now and we want to know what’s happening.”
Anna had to shake her head to dispel the scenes playing out in her mind as she read Aunt Helen’s secret account. She had no sense of time passing. How long had she been immersed in these pages? What must Alina think of her?
She heard the rattle of the doorknob and realized someone was about to enter. In a purely reflex action, she turned over the pages on her desk and rose to open the door and step outside before anyone could see what lay there.
As soon as she emerged, however, it was not necessary to explain. Alina and Fiona were shocked when they saw the colour of her face. Alina immediately enfolded her friend in her arms and signalled to Fiona to move over to the fireside where they had left a tray of coffee and scones for a snack.
Fiona diplomatically removed the coffee pot and fled to the kitchen to reheat the contents leaving the two alone.
“Now, what’s going on? Did you find something that upset you? I can tell you are affected, Anna, so don’t deny it. Your face is like a sheet.”
“Oh, it’s nothing really!” she began with false cheerfulness, “the pages are the story of Helen’s marriage, as we thought. It’s just that I feel her pain through the words. It might be different if I had read this at home in Canada, but here, in her sanctuary, it’s as if I am reliving it with her.”
“Oh, I know you are much more sensitive than most people give you credit for, Anna. You were so determined to come here. You were sure you would find something about Helen and now you have set yourself up for an overreaction, my dear.
You can tell me about it later. Sit here and rest. I’ll help Fiona with the coffee and heat up some soup for you. It’s just exhaustion and jet lag that has you so upset.”
Alina patted Anna’s shoulder comfortingly, and left the room smiling. The smile disappeared as soon as she entered the kitchen and found Fiona waiting to hear what had happened.
“I know you are her closest friend, and you don’t know me well, but I can see she is not herself. What can I do to help?”
“Oh, Fiona, I am so glad you are here. I have never seen Anna like this before. It’s like she saw a ghost or something.” Alina turned to look out the windows at the falling snow as if the sight could calm her mind. She was reluctant to show Fiona how worried she really felt.
“Let’s find some soup for Anna,” she continued. “I’ll tell you what I know and then we’ll go back to the lounge together and change the subject.”
Fiona went to work at once. Her practical nature always preferred concrete action when problems presented themselves. As she quickly opened two cans and stirred in herbs from a set of pots on the kitchen island, she listened intently to Alina’s account.
“Anna found an old book in a crate out in the barn. It had a concealed compartment inside and that’s where we discovered pages from a journal Helen Dunlop must have written years ago. Anna confirmed it’s an account of her marriage to that man Harold Fraser.”
“She knew about him before, didn’t she? What’s caused her to feel so strongly now?”
“I don’t know, but perhaps she should not read more; at least for now. We need to distract her from this, Fiona. What can you suggest?”
With permission granted, Fiona moved into high gear and took over the situation.
Lunch was quickly assembled with the addition of bread and salad and generous slices of the Victoria sponge cake Anna loved. Conversation by the fire, led by Fiona, focused on an afternoon drive around Oban for Alina’s benefit, and then the evening meal with Bev and Alan. It was tacitly agreed that nothing more should be said about the discovery of Helen Dunlop’s secret papers, and Anna was glad of the excuse to put all of that aside for the time being.
Chapter Eleven
Bev was waiting by the cottage door as Fiona’s van arrived. The sun had set and stars were twinkling in the darkened sky bringing cold sea winds from the west. Bev just pulled her sweater closer and wrapped her arms around her waist. Nothing would prevent her from the first sight of her friends in a year. It was even longer since she had seen Alina. She had been missed at the wedding last November and Bev had not seen her since the announcement of Alina’s diagnosis of macular degeneration.
As soon as Anna and Alina descended from the van and Fiona had waved her goodbyes to everyone, Bev ran towards them and herded them into the cottage talking rapidly all the way.
“I could hardly wait to see you both! You are lucky I didn’t break in on you last night but Fiona warned me to let you rest! Come away inside and get these coats off. Tell me everything that’s been happening in Canada.”
Anna and Alina exchanged a look. This was a new version of their Samba friend. She even sounded Scottish when she said, ‘come away inside’. They were both hoping the marriage was going well and Bev was not homesick for Canada.
This concern was dispelled as soon as they were ushered into the kitchen of the cottage and saw Alan standing there with a big smile for the women, and an even bigger kiss for his excited wife.
“I’ll be away to the milking parlour the now. There’s some painting to do there. My wife will tell you the details, to be sure. Ah jist wanted to say welcome and
thank you both for coming. You can see how pleased my Bev is!”
“Is he not the most darling man ever?” asked Bev, with a glow on her face that matched the one Alan had as he exited through the new back door.
“Well, that answers my question!” exclaimed Anna, with the most authentic smile she had managed to summon all day.
“Me too!” cried Alina, as she fell into Bev’s arms. “It’s clear things are going well for you, Bev. I couldn’t be happier!”
Bev blushed like a schoolgirl and said quickly, “I am delighted to see you looking so well, Alina.
I have been worried about you.”
“You can stop worrying right this minute! I have a champion worrier here with me.
Anna makes sure everything is done to preserve my eyesight. Truly, Bev, I am doing very well and not thinking about the future. There’s every hope that science or medicine will find a cure before I have any real problems.”
“That’s the best news I could hear, Alina! Thank you. You contributed so much to my wedding with the beautiful dress you made and, Anna, you introduced me to my Alan and made this new life possible. I want to thank you both for coming, and thank you for all your support, and thank you most of all for what you have done for our James as well.”
Bev ran out of steam just as her friends were about to burst into tears at the emotion they felt for this youngest Samba member.
Anna recovered first, and pulled out of the three-way hug that was about to strangle her.
“All right, then, ladies! Time to find out what Alan meant when he left. I can see a new kitchen here, Bev. What is that wonderful smell? What else has been happening?”
Bev dabbed at her eyes and turned her attention to matters domestic.
“The smell is a rack of lamb from the flock bred here on the farm, with home-made mint sauce and our own potatoes,” she declared, proudly. “The kitchen has been completely re-fitted and the windows to the back are new as well as the glass door. We didn’t have the space to add what you did, Anna, but it has made a huge difference already.”
Her guests nodded in approval of the lighter, brighter space. Bev continued to explain the other new developments to Anna.
“I remembered what you said once about farm visits and teas here. It fits with what Alan wanted to do. He has sold the dairy cattle and now we have the use of the building where the cows were milked, which I mean to convert into a tea room. A second smaller kitchen has been installed there and we are working on the interior during the winter months before the sheep are brought down from the hills for lambing.”
“Good grief, Bev!” exclaimed Alina. “You sound like a real farmer’s wife already. And you a Canadian city girl!”
Bev could see the genuine amazement on her friends’ faces and she blushed again.
“I know!” she confessed. “I love the country life here and Eric has helped with everything. He’s settling down very well. He’s in Skye with Kirsty for a few days.”
“Do you think he will stay here or go back to Canada, eventually?”
Bev turned to answer Anna’s question and it was obvious she had thought deeply about this.
“I can’t tell yet. He has a real bond with Alan and Kirsty and even more with Prince. He wants us to breed Prince and give him one of the puppies so Alan can teach him how to work a sheep dog and they can do demonstrations for visitors.”
“Wow! That sounds interesting for him. He will always have internet connection with the bigger world, of course, and you kept the house in London so he or James could have a base there. It sounds like Eric has all possible choices before him.”
“Right, Alina! I hope to take Alan to our old house in London, Ontario some day. He needs to see where the other half of my life began.”
“It’s a brand new life you have now, Bev,” added Anna. “Can you believe it?”
“Honestly! I have to pinch myself sometimes but I don’t forget I have you to thank for that Anna.”
The conversation continued comfortably as Bev set out the meal and Alina told her the gossip from London and their plans for the big Egyptian trip.
Anna, however, lingered over Bev’s last remark and thought the person to be thanked for the changes in both Bev’s and Anna’s life, was the very one whose secrets lay in the pages Anna had left lying on her desk. What else might be revealed there, if she dared to read on?
It was late in the evening when Alan dropped Anna and Alina at their front door. Alina was happy but exhausted from the long day. They trudged up the path together through the snow.
“I think jet lag has caught up with me, Anna,” she yawned. “I am going to bed upstairs tonight. I want a long, hot bath and a good night’s sleep. I’ll see you in the morning. It’s been a grand day, as they say in these parts.”
True to her word, Alina climbed the stairs as soon as the red door had been closed shut against the blowing snow.
Anna knew she should follow her, light the fire, and slip into her own cozy bed. It had been a very special evening with Bev and Alan. The lingering warmth of their love and goodwill was still surrounding her heart and yet.........the thought of Aunt Helen’s confessions had never been far from her mind. She stopped to question herself. Could she resume the painful account without descending into the emotional turmoil she had encountered earlier? Was it better to leave well enough alone?
“That’s not going to happen so I might as well accept it!” she declared to the Aga.
Morag looked up from the kitchen chair she was occupying. She had been hoping for a late night snack when the visitors returned. As there did not seem to be any kitchen activity happening, she followed Anna as she made her way to unlock the office door. Morag hopped up onto the desk when the desk light was switched on.
Taking a deep breath to steady her nerves, Anna turned over the pages once more.
“I am glad you are here, Morag,” she whispered, as she stroked the tabby’s thick, soft, fur coat. “You won’t let me do anything foolish, will you?”
Morag responded with a deep purr and delicately stepped inside the vacated book cover to curl up and resume her interrupted sleep.
* * *
It was a tremendous shock to me when I was introduced to Harold’s family. The house, itself, should have warned me.
It was a mansion on top of the hill leading to the castle. It must have been three hundred years old and full of antiques.
Harold had bought a new outfit for me and as soon as I saw where he lived, I knew why.
He kept a firm grasp on my arm and talked to me all the way up the central staircase to the room where his family waited to receive me.
It took a conscious effort to keep my jaw closed when I saw the place. Four floor-to ceiling windows were on the wall opposite the double doors. There was a stately marble fireplace on my left but my eyes slid away from it because the group seated there was staring at me suspiciously.
The room was full of chairs and tables, display cabinets, a grand piano, enormous patterned carpets and looking down from the walls, with severe disapproval, were what I took to be a series of Fraser family portraits complete with swords, sashes and even gleaming armour.
If I could have escaped right then and disappeared down the staircase like a modern Cinderella, it would have saved me, and Harold, much sorrow.
It was clear, I was there to be inspected. Harold’s mother, brother and sister made no attempt to disguise their feelings about me.
His mother was what we girls called ‘toffee-nosed’; an apt description of an elderly woman whose back was ramrod straight and whose white hair would never have dared to vary by one inch from its prescribed position. Her daughter was a duplicate, with Harold’s brown hair and grey eyes but her grim expression was not one whit more pleasant than that of the senior lady. The brother was a younger version of Harold himself although he displayed no interest in my arrival.
Harold indicated a chair for me and sat as close as he could. He pressed a delicate china te
a cup and saucer into my hand but I set it down quickly. The rattle it made showed my nervousness.
The usual questions ensued. Where did I live? Who were ‘my people?’ (That was a laugh!) What work did I do? How had we met and when?
Harold answered for me with fictional information. They must have thought I was simple of mind as well as a fortune hunter, but, as the tense minutes passed I began to resent the superior attitude of the women. Who were they to look down on me? If they had endured the hardships I had known, they might not have survived at all.
If Harold had brought me here to his home, aware of the effect this would have on his family, he must really care for me.
I lifted my chin and stared back into those pairs of icy eyes. Reaching for Harold’s hand, I praised him to the high heavens for his kindness and sweet nature. I could not defend myself but there was nothing they could say in denial of these compliments without the risk of offending the son and heir
Harold squeezed my hand in appreciation.
Finally, the endless charade drew to a close. Harold politely requested that I descend to the entrance hall and wait for him while he fetched a hat and umbrella before we ventured out into the rainy night to find a taxi.
As I ran down the staircase, I could hear the raised voices behind the oak doors. Who would win the debate? Was I to be cast out as totally unsuitable wife material? Would Harold capitulate to their demands? Would the matriarch hold firm?
I was not sure which outcome was preferable. I knew I was uneducated and unprepared for the lifestyle to which he was accustomed. If he chose me it would be a battle for acceptance which I was unlikely to win.
His expression as he emerged from the grand room told me the answer. I learned the concessions he had made: a quiet wedding, a separate apartment within the house, no unnecessary contact with the family. What was not revealed to me then, was his expectation of the children I would supply.