Greyfriars House

by Emma Fraser

  He kept looking at her as he spoke and she had to try hard to resist turning around to see if there was another, better-looking girl behind her, but no, it was definitely her he was looking at. Every now and again he would flash a devastating smile and she prayed she wouldn’t humiliate herself by blushing. She wished she’d worn her new blue dress instead of the plain skirt and blouse she had on and that she’d taken more time with her hair.

  That afternoon, she spent ages in the library deciding who to write about. She wanted to find the right person – someone where the oral history was important if not critical to the way history viewed them.

  Immediately she thought of Bonnie Prince Charlie, his supporters and their connection with Greyfriars. The Jacobites had passed into history as the most romantic of rebels – but how much of their history was fact and how much romanticised?

  The remainder of the week she worked on her essay, refusing to question herself as to why she was so determined to impress Ethan. She’d other essays to write, reading to do, but this particular essay was all she worked on.

  She finished her paper the day before it was due and was about to slip it under his door when unexpectedly it was flung open. She was bending down and had almost fallen over.

  He’d looked almost as surprised to see her there as she was to find him looking down at her.

  ‘Do you normally crouch like that outside your tutors’ doors?’ he asked with a grin.

  She’d blushed, perfectly aware her skin now matched her hair.

  ‘I was – my essay,’ she stuttered, gesturing to the sheets of papers half in and half out of the doorway. ‘I didn’t want to disturb you in case you were in a meeting with another student – so I…’ She nodded mutely at the papers and made a scrambling attempt to gather them together.

  When he knelt beside her to help, she caught a whiff of his aftershave and more faintly, toothpaste on his breath.

  When her essay was back in a neat pile, he asked her to come in and made her wait while he read through it. When he’d finished he set it down on the desk and grinned again. Her heart did a little pirouette inside her chest. ‘Not bad. Not bad at all. I do have a couple of questions however.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘Have you eaten? I was too busy to grab lunch and I get grouchy when I’m hungry.’

  ‘No, I —’

  ‘Come on then. There’s a cafe nearby that’s not bad. I hate eating on my own. Won’t you join me? We can talk about your essay then.’

  She should have said no; it was an unwritten rule that students and tutors didn’t have relationships but she was flattered and so told herself that as he was a Ph.D. student it didn’t really count. Who was to know? He was the first man ever to ask her out.

  They went to a little cafe not far from the university. It was fuggy with smoke and crowded. They talked about the Jacobites, argued whether Mary, Queen of Scots was guilty of treason or whether she was simply badly advised and at the mercy of men who used her to serve their own ambition, before moving on to King James the VI and his belief in witchcraft and subsequent penchant for burning women at the stake. When they’d finished discussing the pros and cons of James the VI’s rule, Ethan asked her what she intended to do once she’d graduated. Perhaps it was the way he hung on her every word, his eyes never leaving her face, making her feel that everything she said was fascinating, that made her confide her secret dream about going in for law.

  ‘So no plans to become an historian then?’

  ‘I don’t imagine it will be too dissimilar. The law relies on history, as well as the ability to assimilate and consider many facts,’ she shot back. ‘Taking different accounts from different sources and sifting through them to establish what is true and what isn’t.’

  He leaned forward, looking impressed. ‘Do you know I believe you’re right! I’ve never thought about it like that before. So tell me, do you think Mary, Queen of Scots had anything to do with Lord Darnley’s death? And if not, why not? And what about Rizzio? Is there any evidence her courtiers had him murdered?’

  They argued back and forth, both taking one viewpoint and then arguing another. Eventually she’d glanced at her watch only to find it was after nine. She’d had no idea it was so late. She stood and gathered up her bag. ‘I should go. My landlady likes us to be in by ten.’

  ‘Where do you live? I’ll escort you home,’ he said.

  As they walked he told her that he was married and had two children, a boy and a girl, and that he was looking forward to returning to America to see them. He was at Edinburgh only for a term, and would be going back to Boston just before Christmas. It hadn’t crossed her mind he might be married – let alone have children. She did her best to hide her disappointment and embarrassment. Thankfully it wasn’t far to her flat. When they reached her door she held out her hand and thanked him coolly for the meal and walking her home. She desperately hoped he’d had no inkling she’d thought they were on a date.

  She avoided his lectures after that although she always found out from a fellow student what the essay topics were and always ensured they were well written and submitted on time. Every time she caught a glimpse of him on campus, usually striding along deep in conversation with a student or one of the other lecturers, her heart would somersault. Why, oh why, did the first man she fell for have to be married?

  One Saturday she was visiting Holyrood Palace and was peering at a copy of Mary, Queen of Scot’s death warrant when she glanced up to find him studying a number of gruesome-looking weapons on the wall.

  He looked as taken aback to see her as she was to see him. He came to stand next to her and looked down at the document she’d been examining.

  ‘Thought you’d check up on Mary, Queen of Scots? Still think she was an innocent?’

  So he’d remembered their conversation. A guilty but delicious thrill ran through her.

  ‘I keep thinking how it must have been for her. So far away from everything that was familiar. Queen of a country when she could barely speak its language, never mind understand its culture. She must have felt so alone.’

  He slid her a puzzled look. ‘Not something I imagine you’ve ever experienced.’

  She refused to admit it was a feeling she knew only too well. Far rather he think her too popular and busy to ever feel lonely.

  ‘I haven’t seen you at my lectures recently,’ he continued. ‘I hope it’s not because you find them boring.’

  ‘Not at all.’ She was pleased to find she sounded cool. ‘And I have turned all the necessary essays in. You’ve given me an A for every one, so I’m assuming you aren’t going to put in a complaint about my absences.’

  He looked perplexed but didn’t reply. It was then she noticed that somehow they had both made their way to the Queen’s antechamber.

  ‘See that dark spot on the floor.’ Olivia pointed to a bit near the window. ‘That’s supposed to be the stain of Rizzio’s blood.’

  ‘Do you think it was his baby she had?’

  ‘Not enough evidence to convict her, I would suggest.’

  Ethan laughed. ‘She certainly got around. I’ve never come across a woman who slept under so many roofs. I’m making it my mission to visit as many as possible. Hey, I don’t suppose you want to come with me?’

  Her heart hammered against her ribs. ‘Wouldn’t your wife mind?’

  ‘Eunice doesn’t mind much. She and the kids could have come with me to Edinburgh, but Eunice wasn’t keen to uproot them. They’ve just started school. ’Sides, she has plenty to keep her busy in Boston.’

  By unspoken consent they had left the Queen’s antechamber and started towards the exit. As they walked he told her he’d joined the army in ’44 when he was eighteen, postponing his studies so he could. He’d met Eunice during his first leave and married her on his second.

  ‘People did crazy stuff like that back then. After the war was finished – we’d already had our son by then – I realised we hardly knew each other. Jeez, it sounds like such a line.’ He g
ave her a sideways look. ‘Our daughter was born just over a year later.’ He stopped, placed a hand on her arm, turned her gently to face him and looked her in the eyes. ‘I love Eunice but I’m not in love with her. I want to be straight with you.’ He hesitated. ‘I know I have no right to ask you to keep me company – but I’d very much like you to come with me to visit all these cool castles Scotland has.’ This time it was he who flushed, he who seemed uncertain. ‘If you say no, I’ll never bother you again, I promise.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to say no, instead she found herself nodding.

  Over the following weekends they visited Edinburgh Castle, took a bus to Inchmahome in the Lake of Menteith and a boat to the castle on Loch Leven, and all the other places within a day’s journey of Edinburgh where Mary Stuart had either stayed or been imprisoned. Although they both pretended that all they shared was a love of history Olivia knew he was falling in love with her as she was with him. It was the happiest time of her life.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Charlotte

  1984

  Mum stuttered to a stop. ‘I fell in love. With my heart and soul – and I use the last word deliberately. It felt as if I’d found a missing part of me. If you’d ever been in love you would know how it feels. To have someone understand you so well they could finish your sentences, to feel the world was a brighter place when they were in the room. In the years after Mother and Father died I’d felt small and unimportant. He made me feel as if I was a star in a movie, or rather my own life. As if I mattered. I was happier than I’d been in years – since that last summer at Greyfriars.

  ‘Although we had to be discreet, we spent every moment we could of the remainder of the term together.’ Her cheeks were two high spots of colour in her pale face. ‘During those weeks I thought a great deal about that last summer at Greyfriars and in particular, Edith. If she’d felt for Findlay a tenth of what I felt for Ethan, how could she have let him go? And as for Georgina, whatever wrong she’d done was nothing compared to the wrong I was doing. I tried not to think of Eunice – or the children she and Ethan had together.

  ‘I knew I could never have Ethan, but all I – we – could think about was the moment. I could no more have stopped being with him than I could have stopped breathing. It’s not something I’m proud of and I can’t expect you to understand but you have the right to know.

  ‘He talked about divorcing Eunice, but I wouldn’t let him. He would have lost his children, and very likely his position with his American university. The loss of his job we could have lived with but breaking up his family? In those days people rarely got divorced – except for film stars. For most it was considered a scandal, something to be terribly ashamed of. What we had already done was bad enough.

  ‘He returned to America for good just before Thanksgiving. It broke my heart to say goodbye and I know it broke his too.

  ‘I realise you must be shocked,’ Mum continued after a pause, her troubled eyes never having left my face. ‘Your mother having an affair with a married man. I was shocked at myself. I knew it was unforgivable but I couldn’t help myself.’

  Shocked was one way of putting it. She’d had an affair with a man when she’d known he was married. I couldn’t imagine anyone less likely to do what she had. All my life she had been the person I looked up to – my lodestone – the person I most wanted to be like – the person whose approval I most wanted. Now to find out that she had only been human made my world tilt. My father could be alive! And I had a half-brother and sister! That she’d omitted to share something so fundamental shook me to the core.

  ‘I didn’t realise I was pregnant until he’d been gone a month,’ Mum went on. ‘I put my nausea down to a combination of feeling miserable and flu. Sex wasn’t much discussed in those days – Agatha had told me very little. When I started my periods she gave me a pack of pads, but that was pretty much it. I knew there were ways a woman could prevent pregnancy, but one had to be married before a doctor would prescribe a diaphragm and the pill was still way off in the future. I thought if we were careful…’ The flush on her cheeks deepened. ‘To be honest I didn’t let myself think of what might happen.

  ‘I thought about whether I should tell him about the baby but I knew if I did, he would be forced to choose between me and his family. I just couldn’t do it. He adored his children and got on well with his wife – even if he wasn’t in love with her. I know you’re finding this difficult to understand, but you must believe me when I tell you, those weeks with your father were worth all the years I spent without him.’

  I didn’t care what Mum said. Ethan, my father, had to have taken advantage of her. He’d been married, with children and in a position of authority. Mum was younger than him and naïve for her age. There was no excuse. To put it in a nutshell, my father had been a smarmy creep.

  The sun was shining through the open window, and I could hear the footsteps of people going about their business; the world outside continuing as normal whilst mine was shifting on its axis. Mum was still watching me apprehensively, waiting for my response.

  ‘Although we’d agreed not to write to each other, he promised he’d come back for me when his children were grown up,’ she continued when I didn’t say anything. ‘When you were sixteen, I sent him this address – just that on a piece of paper. I trusted he’d know it was me who sent it. He would need it if he was ever to come to me.’ A look of immeasurable sadness crossed her face. ‘He never did.’

  The swine, I thought, furious on Mum’s behalf. ‘Why didn’t you tell him about me then? Didn’t he have a right to know?’

  ‘Because I was frightened someone – Eunice – would open the letter. All I sent was this address. And, Charlotte, I have no right to ask you this, but please, think carefully before you try to find your half-brother and -sister. One thing that kept me going through the years was that his children would never find out about us.’

  Still reeling, I tried to imagine how it must have been for Mum all those years ago. She’d been so alone. Her parents dead; the woman who was the closest thing to a mother she’d had since the death of her own mother, thousands of miles away, her aunts having nothing to do with her, the man she loved, out of reach. If she hadn’t been so alone would she ever have fallen for a married man? I felt a hot surge of anger against my two great-aunts and the man who was my father.

  ‘Maybe spending the rest of my life apart from him was the price I had to pay for what I did,’ Mum continued softly, ‘but if it was, it was worth it. I hope you’ll feel like that one day.’ She smiled ruefully. ‘Although I fervently hope he won’t be married. No mother wants her child to repeat her mistakes. Not that I can imagine it. You’ve always been –’ she was quiet for a moment as if picking her words ‘- so in control. Sometimes I wish you would let yourself go – do something outrageous. Oh, Charlotte, I wonder if you’re happy.’

  I stiffened. ‘Of course I’m happy, or I would be if…’ I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence.

  ‘I wasn’t dying,’ Mum said, doing it for me.

  I could only nod.

  ‘I’m not frightened of dying. I don’t think people truly ever die. Maybe I’m still that girl who believed in ghosts. How can all that energy – that love – just disappear? And if I won’t be around in physical form I’ll still be with you in spirit. I’ll be in your memories.’ She smiled slightly. “I’ll be the thousand winds that blow…”’

  I would have given anything to believe that.

  ‘I wish I had longer, much longer, but only because I can’t bear the thought of leaving you.’ She sighed. ‘If only you would meet someone who can make you feel the way your father made me feel. Then I could die knowing you weren’t on your own.’

  ‘Mum, it’s the eighties. Women don’t need to be married to live happy, fulfilling lives. And you were on your own! You made a wonderful life for me. No daughter could have asked for more.’ What did it matter what she’d done in the past? She was still my lod
estone.

  Mum gave a slight, dismissive shake of her head but I could tell my words pleased her.

  ‘You were – are – everything to me. From the moment you were born, encouraging you to be the woman I couldn’t be was all that mattered. Looking back I wonder if I pushed you too hard. No mother has the right to expect their child to live the life they wanted for themselves. But look at you now! I haven’t told you enough how proud I am of you.’

  An embarrassed silence fell. Mum hadn’t ever been one for heaping praise.

  ‘I should have told you that more often. My generation were brought up not to praise, not to discuss feelings – not the way you see it on American television where people are always hugging and talking about their emotions in great detail. It wasn’t done. I regret that now. The Americans could teach us a thing or two.’

  ‘I’ve always known you loved me, Mum,’ I said awkwardly. ‘You didn’t have to say it.’

  ‘I will say it. I love you. Oh, Charlotte, come here.’