by Anne Douglas
‘Soon,’ Lorne agreed.
And with some relief, Rosa hurried on her way.
Three
Outside the cottage in Mariner Street, she halted, taking deeps breaths of the sea air and pleasure as she always did in looking out over the wide expanse of the Moray Firth. How lucky she had been, she often thought, to have been brought up in a place like this, even if there was so little money about. Maybe money was all some folk would care about, but for Rosa, to be close to the sea, so fascinating in all its moods under the great empty sky, was all she wanted.
The trouble was, being in service, she was so rarely able to see either sea or sky, for her work kept her indoors, and even when she was free to go out on her afternoon off, being in a city, even a port like Inverness, was not the same as being in Carron, which she still missed so much.
Her father’s cottage had first been rented from Mr Thain, the local landowner, by Rosa’s grandfather, who had been a real fisherman, unlike Da, who only fitted in fishing around all his other jobs, but Rosa had never known her grandfather or his wife. They and her mother’s folk had died young and were buried, like Martha herself, in the graveyard outside the kirk in the High Street, the only busy street in Carron. It would be past its little shops and the village school that Lorne and her wedding party would soon be walking, up to the kirk itself and, thinking of that and of how she mustn’t be late back, Rosa began to hurry on her way to Mrs MacKay’s.
Her cottage, as Rosa knew, was quite a step from the main village – no wonder Lorne had not wanted to go for the flowers herself that morning! Of course, if she’d gone yesterday she’d have saved Rosa a trip, but she hadn’t thought of that. More than likely, she’d just done what she usually did and put off doing something until the last minute. Lord, how annoying she could be! Yet Rosa was more patient than usual in thinking of her sister, for she was still concerned by Lorne’s out-of-character behaviour. Was she really suffering from nerves? No, Rosa decided, that wasn’t likely. Yet, if there were some other reason for her manner, Rosa couldn’t think what it might be, and gradually put her worry from her mind.
Her way out of the village took her past Seal Point, where Bluff House, the ‘big’ house of the area, was home to the Thain family and where Lorne had worked as a housemaid, like her mother before her, until giving notice last week. Rosa herself had never seen the inside of the house, though she’d heard of its fine rooms and grand furniture and, of course, she’d seen members of the Thain family around the village, driving their carriages or riding their horses, even occasionally visiting the sick – at least, that was what the second Mrs Thain did when she remembered.
Attractive and young – much younger than her husband – she was said to get on very well with her stepsons, Hugo and Rory, both now young men, tall, fair, English looking, Rosa thought, with longish faces and high-bridged noses. Was it true that they were somewhat wild? There were rumours, but Lorne said she didn’t know if they were true. Staff at Bluff House didn’t really know much about the lives of the Thain boys away from home.
Best get on, Rosa told herself but, quickening her pace, she began to feel the warmth of the April day as hot as summer, making her clothes and the thick knot of hair on her neck feel unpleasantly sticky, while the sweat rolled down her back. Taking off her hat, she stopped to wipe her brow, which brought no relief, but at last, when she’d turned the next curve of the road, she saw the little cottage that was home to Mrs MacKay and thanked God for that. Trust Lorne to want flowers at the last minute from this place at the back of beyond, but now, Rosa supposed, she’d have to help Mrs MacKay pick them. Not that she could see any in the tiny front garden except a few daffodils wilting in the heat, but maybe they were at the back? She would soon see.
Replacing her hat, Rosa rapped on the front door, calling, ‘Mrs MacKay, are you there?’
All was silent, except for a bird singing, until at last there came the sound of footsteps and the front door slowly swung open, revealing a plump little woman whose round brown eyes opened wide in surprise on seeing Rosa. She wore a blue cotton dress with a white apron and a white cap over tight grey curls, and looked to Rosa to be quite elderly. Over fifty, at least.
‘Who is it?’ she asked, her hand shading her face from the sun. ‘Who’s there? I am not expecting anyone.’
‘It’s Rosa Malcolm, Mrs MacKay. You remember me? Martha Malcolm’s daughter. We live in the village.’
‘Oh, I remember Martha,’ Mrs MacKay said at once. ‘A sweet lassie she was, too. And you’re her daughter – Rosa? I am sure I do not know why you’ve come to my house but you’d best come in. ’Tis hot out there.’
Drawing Rosa into the shadowy interior of her spotless little cottage, Mrs MacKay bustled about, settling her into a chair with a woollen cushion and insisting on pouring her a cup of tea.
‘No, really, you needn’t bother—’ Rosa was beginning, but Mrs Mackay only set the cup before her, together with an oatcake, and shook her head.
‘Why, lassie, you’re fit to melt! Now you drink that – it’s got two sugars, it’ll do you good. And then you can tell me why you’ve come a-calling out of the blue!’
‘I’m sorry I don’t get to see you these days,’ Rosa answered, gratefully drinking the tea in spite of the fact that she usually took no sugar. ‘It’s just that I’m in service, over in Inverness, and don’t often come home. My sister, Lorne, saw more of the village than me, she being at Bluff House, but of course she’s just left.’
‘Lorne?’ Mrs MacKay repeated. ‘That’s your sister?’
‘Why, yes.’ Rosa raised her dark brows. ‘My sister who’s getting married. As you know, it’s her wedding day today and she’s asked me—’
‘Her wedding day’s today? No, I did not know that. My Dinah never said. She’s my daughter, you know, and tells me what she hears but she’s out o’ the village now, like me – got a wee house in Kinlaine so doesn’t keep up so much with Carron gossip.’ Mrs MacKay leaned forward to fill up Rosa’s cup. ‘But whatever are you doing here, then, on your sister’s wedding day?’
‘Well, the ceremony’s not till the afternoon and I’ve come to collect the flowers you said you’d let Lorne have. She should have come herself, ’tis true, but she’s not had the time.’
‘Flowers?’ Mrs MacKay’s eyes were wide, her face quivering with surprise. ‘What flowers? I never said I’d any flowers for your sister! I declare, I’ve never set eyes on her for years and I’ve no flowers anyway, ’cept a few daffodils, and what bride wants them? Rosa, I do not know what you are talking about!’
Something dark seemed to be enveloping Rosa as she sat listening to Mrs MacKay’s words repeating themselves in her head, over and over again, over and over again … I never said I’d any flowers for your sister … I never said I’d any flowers for your sister …
No flowers for Lorne. No need for Rosa to come to Mrs MacKay’s, then. No need for her to be away from the house in Mariner Street, except, clearly, it was what Lorne had wanted. The darkness around Rosa was fading now but a sharp little pain was taking over in her chest, so that she began to feel she could scarcely breathe. The cottage was too small, its kitchen range too big. She must get out, into the fresh air and run, run, run back home to find— Oh, God, find what? What had Lorne been up to?
‘Lorne never asked you for any flowers?’ Rosa whispered through dry lips, struggling to her feet, her eyes on Mrs MacKay deep and dark.
‘I’m telling you! I’ve never even seen the girl, did not even know she was getting wed! There must be some mistake, Rosa, is all I can say.’
‘No,’ said Rosa, turning away her head. ‘There’s no mistake. Mrs MacKay, I shall have to go now. Thank you for the tea.’
‘No, no, sit down again, lassie! You look so pale, you’re not well – there isn’t a bit o’ colour in your face. Have another cup o’ tea and rest yourself. Have something to eat—’
‘You’re very kind, but I must get home.’
Rosa was
at the door, opening it and taking deep breaths of air while Mrs MacKay fussed around her, exclaiming and clucking yet failing to stop her when she wanted to go.
‘Put your hat on, lassie, so you don’t get the sun!’ she called at last to Rosa’s fast-retreating back. ‘Don’t be hurrying now, ’twill do you no good, but wish your sister all the best from me and say I’m sorry I did not have any flowers for her. Do not forget now!’
‘I won’t forget,’ Rosa called over her shoulder and was gone, leaving Mrs MacKay to turn back into her house, shaking her head and wondering, what had all that been about, then?
‘I’ll ask Dinah,’ she decided. ‘Dinah will find out, to be sure.’
In the meantime, she would boil up the kettle and have another cup of tea.
Four
Run, run, run, Rosa had told herself, and run she did, so fast, still in the unseasonable heat, that by the time she reached Mariner Street she was exhausted.
Pray God, may Lorne be here, she whispered, letting herself into the house. May she be here, may she tell me why she sent me for flowers that’d never been promised. Oh, may she just be here!
But the living room was empty. No sign of Lorne. No sign of her father. There were no irons by the range, no feeling that the house was alive, preparing for a great event. Only a silence that was so strange, Rosa put her hand to her side where a stitch was acutely aching and tried to hear something, anything, that would mean Lorne had not left.
But why should she leave, anyway? She was due to be married; where would she go? To meet Daniel? She’d never do that before the wedding. Perhaps she was, after all, upstairs, getting ready, finishing her packing? Go upstairs, then, and see. True, from upstairs there was no sound, but Lorne could be lying on her bed, resting, sleeping, even, as she could so easily do …
Rosa, breathing hard, threw aside her jacket and hat and set her foot on the lowest step. Why not go upstairs? Because she was afraid of what she would find. Or, rather, not find, and that would be Lorne. Something was going on. Rosa could not understand what but she knew she did not want to go upstairs and find her sister not there.
Moments passed, long moments of dread, until at last Rosa found the breath to call: ‘Lorne, I’m back. Are you there? Lorne, answer me!’
But there came no answer, and with a sudden, desperate rush of energy, Rosa ran up the stairs and into the little room she’d always shared with her sister.
‘Lorne!’ she cried again, but there was no point. The room was empty.
No Lorne. No honeymoon case. No brush or comb on the chest of drawers, except for Rosa’s. No clothes of Lorne’s except the oldest in the hanging cupboard. But from the back of the door to the room, as Rosa saw with a pang of hope denied, there still dangled next to her own outfit their mother’s wedding dress – the dress Lorne was due so soon to wear for her marriage to Daniel MacNeil.
So she hadn’t taken it. Her other clothes, yes, her wedding dress, no. Yet if for some strange reason she had gone to meet Daniel before the wedding, wouldn’t she have taken it? No, she wouldn’t. No, it was nonsense even to think that Lorne had gone to meet Daniel before the wedding. What bride would do such a thing? Give up the drama of arriving at the kirk, walking up the aisle, being the centre of attention, seeing the special love and admiration in her bridegroom’s eyes as she joined him for their marriage?
No, no, Lorne had not gone to see Daniel, but she’d taken her case and her clothes and must have gone somewhere. But where? Where could she possibly have gone?
Her head reeling as she stood, trying to make sense of what had happened, Rosa suddenly heard her father’s voice calling from below, and with wild hope that he might know something, she ran down the stairs to throw her arms around him.
‘Hey, hey, what is all this?’ he asked, laughing as he put her aside. ‘Did you think I had gone missing, or what? I’ve only been next door with Mrs MacRitchie. Lorne sent me round to borrow some milk and we got to talking, you know how it is—’
‘Lorne sent you round?’ Rosa’s great eyes searched his face. ‘When? When did she send you round?’
‘Why, soon after you went off for the flowers she wanted. Did you get them? Where are they?’
‘She didn’t want any flowers, Da. It was just a ruse to get rid of me, like she got rid of you.’ Rosa shook her head. ‘She’s gone, Da. Lorne’s gone. She’s taken her case and her clothes and she’s gone.’
‘Rosa, what are you talking about? How could she have gone? She’s getting married! We’ll be going to the kirk, Daniel will be waiting – how can she have gone?’
‘I don’t know, Da, I wish I did. But she’s nowhere in the house and all her things are gone – except for Ma’s wedding dress.’
Rosa, trying to control the sobs that were threatening to overcome her, turned to take out her handkerchief and from the corner of her eye saw something white over the clock on the shelf above the range – an envelope – that had not been there before.
‘Da,’ she said quietly, ‘I think she’s left a note.’
‘Where?’ His eyes were everywhere. ‘I see no note.’
‘Over the clock.’
With a couple of steps, Rosa reached the range and, stretching up her hand, snatched down the envelope that she could now see bore her name and her father’s in Lorne’s sloping hand.
‘It’s a note, all right,’ she whispered, handing the envelope to Greg. ‘Open it, Da.’
Five
The time it took her father to draw out the one sheet the envelope contained seemed to Rosa to be endless, and when he then said he couldn’t read it as he hadn’t got his reading glasses, she snatched it from him and said she’d read it herself.
‘Aloud,’ he ordered. ‘Read it to me aloud!’
‘Da, I don’t know if I can.’
The lines were dancing before her eyes. She couldn’t make out their sense, or if they had any sense anyway, but she began to read: ‘“Dear Da and Rosa—”’
‘Speak up!’ her father ordered. ‘Your voice is too faint; I cannot hear you!’
‘“Dear Da and Rosa,”’ she began again, ‘“I have to tell you that I am going away—”’
‘Of course she’s going away, soon as she’s wed!’ Greg cried. ‘What’s she on about?’
‘“I am going away,”’ Rosa read again, ‘“but not with Daniel.”’
At these words, she lowered the page and met her father’s eyes, wide, disbelieving, the same as her own, then shook her head as though she could shake away what she had just read aloud.
‘“Not with Daniel”? What does she mean?’ she asked her father. ‘Who, then? Who can she be going with if not Daniel?’
‘Maybe …’ Greg was hesitant, his gaze now wavering, wandering, away from Rosa. ‘Maybe she’s got the wedding nerves folk talk about, maybe felt she had to run away?’
Rosa slowly shook her head. ‘No, Da, no. That’s not it.’
‘Well, read on, then!’ he cried. ‘Read what Lorne tells us!’
‘All right, listen, this is what she says, though I can hardly bear to read it. How can she have written it?’
‘Just read it,’ groaned Greg.
‘“I know you will be angry with me and I’m sorry, but I can’t help it. There is someone else who loves me and I love him like I never loved Daniel. I never should have agreed to marry him. I feel bad I let it go so far, not telling him, but I couldn’t face it. He will hate me, I know, but what can I do? Rory says we must think of our own happiness; that is why we are leaving Carron. By the time you read this, we will be on our way.”’
‘On their way where?’ cried Greg as Rosa paused and sighed. ‘And who’s the man she running off with? I don’t understand … I don’t understand what’s happening – what my own daughter is doing! Is that it? Is that all she says?’
‘That’s all, except that she asks for our forgiveness.’
‘Forgiveness!’
‘“Da and Rosa, please try to forgive me,”’ Rosa read
, “‘and wish me well in my new life. I am not much for writing – it has taken me hours to write this – but I will write to you, I promise.’”
Rosa raised her eyes to Greg’s.
‘And then she sends her love – if you can believe it.’
For a moment, she stood without speaking and then suddenly leaped to her feet, her face colder than Greg had ever seen it but her eyes alive with passionate feeling.
‘Her love she sends, as though we’d want it after what she’s done to Daniel! How can she write a letter like that, full of herself and her new life when his life is shattered, the stupid, stupid girl! Can she not see that if she’s ruined his life she’s ruined hers too, for how long is Rory Thain going to stay with her? He’ll never marry her, never, and then what will she do?’
‘Rory Thain?’ cried Greg. ‘You mean one o’ the lads from the big house? Lorne’s gone off with him?’
‘Did you not hear me read out his name just then? How many men called Rory are there in this village? Only him, and he’s one of the few men she sees, eh? I was racking my brain to think where she might have met a man we didn’t know, but I never thought in my wildest nightmares that she would have thrown in her lot with one of the Thains!’
‘One of the Thains …’ Greg put his hand to his brow. ‘And his father is my landlord! What will he do, Rosa? I mean Mr Thain? He could throw me out, eh? As a punishment for letting my girl run away with his son?’
‘Da, don’t be foolish,’ Rosa said tiredly. ‘How could you have known what Lorne would do? Anyway, Rory Thain must take his share of the blame – she couldn’t have done what she’s done if he hadn’t asked her. But it’s Daniel I’m thinking of. What must he be suffering? Jilted on his wedding day, made to look a fool before all the village.’
Rising to her feet, Rosa took up her jacket from the chair where she had thrown it and shrugged herself into it before cramming on her hat and fixing her father with glittering eyes. ‘I’m going to his house, Da. I’ll speak to him, tell him we knew nothing of what’s happened or we’d have stopped it. I’ll try to do something to help – anything—’