‘How amazing!’ said Rhoda in a low voice. She slid on to the floor as she spoke and, producing her notebook, laid it upon Mamie’s knee. ‘There’s one of the Stanes,’ she added, looking up and smiling.
It was a very rough sketch, a few firmly delineated strokes and some shading, but in spite of that it was quite recognisable.
‘Rhoda!’ exclaimed Mamie in astonishment.
‘You like it?’
‘It’s wonderful! I don’t know how you do it.’
Rhoda laughed. ‘Knack and hard work is the answer. As a matter of fact, it’s a very attractive subject. You see the idea, don’t you? Here’s the big stone in the foreground and the old gnarled thorn-tree, and in the distance that lovely sweep of hills. I should like to paint it tomorrow afternoon unless you want me for something else.’
Mamie was pleased that her guest should have found something to interest her, and it was arranged that they would go to Drumburly Kirk in the morning and Rhoda would paint in the afternoon. If the picture was not finished it could be finished on Monday afternoon – not on Monday morning as Mamie suggested, because the shadows would be different.
Having settled this to their mutual satisfaction, Mamie turned over a page of the notebook and uttered an exclamation of surprise.
‘Oh, that’s just a man,’ said Rhoda. ‘He came along the river while I was sketching so I bagged his back view. It seemed a very distinctive sort of back. I never saw his front.’
‘It’s Willy Bell!’ There was no doubt about it, none at all, although the sketch consisted of a few lines.
‘Willy Bell,’ said Rhoda, nodding. ‘It’s a nice name. I should have liked to talk to Willy Bell but he took no interest in me. Cows are what interest Willy Bell, not strange females. It’s funny how none of the people here take the slightest interest in me. You’d think in a quiet place like this.’
‘But they do, they’re madly interested.’
‘No, darling, I’m sorry but you’re quite, quite wrong. Yesterday afternoon when I went up to the farm there was nobody about at all, and then a woman came out of one of the cottages, that’s her,’ said Rhoda, flicking over the pages of her notebook and pointing to a rotund back bending to pick up something from the ground.
‘Mrs. Dunne,’ murmured Mamie with awe.
‘All right, if you say so. It was Mrs. Dunne. She looks well fed, anyhow. She stood for a moment outside the cottage door and looked round, and her eyes passed over me as if – as if I were the pump,’ said Rhoda seriously.
Mamie began to laugh.
‘Don’t laugh,’ said Rhoda, trying to assume a wounded expression. ‘Don’t laugh, Mamie. It was rather galling. I mean, I’ve always imagined I was quite a pleasant sight, or at least an interesting sight, but, no, not to Mrs. Dunne. Having viewed the prospect, including the pump, with a slight air of boredom, she turned her back and stooped down, as you see.’
‘She could see you out of her back,’ declared Mamie, laughing immoderately. ‘Everybody in Mureth is talking about you… talking about nothing else!’
Chapter Thirty One
Rhoda had never been to a Presbyterian Kirk before. It was surprisingly different to an English church. Everything was different: the building, the service, the singing and the people. Even the atmosphere was different. She was impressed by the simplicity of the service, it was moving and she was further impressed by the fierce sincerity of the minister and by his extraordinarily well-reasoned sermon. Rhoda had quite a good brain – and knew it – but even she found the sermon ‘a bit stiff’, for Mr. Sim’s theme was the ethical interpretations of history and the varying interactions of the temporal and spiritual powers. As Rhoda looked round at her fellow-worshippers she could not help wondering whether they were taking it all in or whether their rapt expressions were due to pre-occupation with domestic affairs.
Lizzie had come with them in the car. She sat at the end of the Mureth pew, dressed very neatly in a brown tweed coat and skirt. She looked quite different from her usual self, even her face looked different, and Rhoda decided if she had met Lizzie in the street attired in her Sabbath garments she would not have known her. Lizzie was sitting like a statue, anyone would think she was absorbing every word, but if that were the case she was a great deal more intelligent than Rhoda had thought.
The building was full of interesting faces, faces of character, rugged and individualistic. Rhoda’s fingers itched for a pencil… and then she remembered where she was and collected her wandering thoughts and fixed her eyes firmly upon the black-clad figure in the high pulpit.
As usual, after the service the congregation met and talked in the kirk yard, so at last Mamie had the pleasure of introducing her beautiful guest to her friends. Various people inquired for Jock and were informed that he and James had gone to Edinburgh on business but were coming home on Tuesday. Lady Shaw was there with Eleanor and Mamie was delighted to find that her ladyship was as friendly as ever, and obviously bore her no grudge for her outspoken remarks.
‘Eleanor is going to school next term,’ said Lady Shaw. ‘We went over to see the school and it is quite delightful. The girls seemed very pleasant; they chatted to Eleanor in a friendly way.’
‘They said they were glad I was coming,’ declared Eleanor with a surprised inflexion in her voice. ‘Wasn’t it nice of them, Mrs. Johnstone?’
Mamie agreed that it was and added that she was sure Eleanor would enjoy herself at school – but she did not feel quite as confident about this as she would have liked.
‘Where’s Holly?’ said Lady Shaw, looking round. ‘Oh, there she is, talking to Dr. Forrester. Wait a moment Mamie, I must get her and introduce her to Miss Ware. Holly knows Miss Ware’s brother.’
Mamie was not particularly anxious for the introduction to take place, but there was no possibility of escape. She waited while Lady Shaw fetched her niece and introduced her to Rhoda.
‘How lovely to meet you!’ exclaimed Holly with a dazzling smile. ‘Of course I know Derek and I’ve heard about you too. James mentioned you one day when we were having coffee together at the Shaw Arms. You live quite near his home, don’t you?’
‘Quite near,’ replied Rhoda gaily. ‘James and I have known one another all our lives.’
‘I expect James has told you about me.’
‘No, I don’t think so’
‘How funny!’ laughed Holly. ‘I thought perhaps he might have told you he was teaching me to fish. I’m afraid I’m not a very intelligent pupil, but he’s extraordinarily patient with me.’
‘I think we ought to go,’ put in Mamie, but nobody took any notice of the interruption.
‘Where is James?’ asked Holly. ‘I was so surprised when I didn’t see him in church.’
‘Oh; didn’t you know he’d gone to Edinburgh?’ exclaimed Rhoda, raising her eyebrows in astonishment.
‘How silly of me!’ Holly declared. ‘Of course I knew he was going, but I didn’t realise it was this weekend. The cow must be better, I suppose?’
Rhoda gazed at her.
‘Yes,’ said Holly nodding. ‘He was terribly worried about the cow. He came over to see me on Wednesday, but I was out when he arrived and he couldn’t stay long because of the cow. I was frightfully disappointed, of course.’
‘Of course,’ agreed Rhoda, sympathetically.
‘It was really very naughty of James not to let me know he was coming, contrary to all rules and regulations,’ declared Holly, laughing a trifle ruefully.
‘Perhaps it was a sudden impulse,’ suggested Rhoda.
‘Oh, yes,’ nodded Holly. ‘He was so funny about it. He said he never thought for a moment that I wouldn’t be there, waiting for him.’
There was a moment’s silence.
‘But how odd,’ continued Holly, with a puzzled frown. ‘How very odd of James to dash off to Edinburgh just before you arrived!’
Rhoda laughed gaily. ‘Oh but you see, I was naughty too,’ declared Rhoda. ‘I never told James I was comin
g. It was quite unexpected.’
‘A sudden impulse, perhaps,’ suggested Holly sweetly.
The conversation took place in a circle of friends. It seemed a very amiable conversation. Both young women were gay and smiling, and it must be admitted that, standing there together with the golden sunshine upon them, they were a most attractive sight. Rhoda’s fairness was set off by the dark beauty of Holly, so that each gained rather than lost by comparison with the other. All the same Mamie was uneasy, even a little scared, so she cut in with an abruptness quite foreign to her gentle, self-effacing nature.
‘We really must go,’ declared Mamie. ‘It’s nearly lunch-time.’
‘Come and have tea to-morrow,’ suggested Lady Shaw. ‘The girls could have a nice chat, couldn’t they?’
‘No,’ said Mamie. ‘Not tomorrow, I’m afraid.’
‘What about Wednesday?’
‘No,’ said Mamie, struggling to find some excuse. ‘Thank you awfully, but I’m afraid we’re going to be very busy all this week.’ With that she swept Rhoda into the car and drove off without more ado.
There was no opportunity to talk on the way home, for Lizzie was with them, sitting in the back seat and with Lizzie there it was impossible to discuss any important matters. But Lizzie was no bar to thought and Mamie was full of uncomfortable thoughts. Mamie had been rude to Lady Shaw. Other people could refuse invitations gracefully, could think up a white lie on the spur of the moment, but Mamie was incapable of this social accomplishment… and she had been scared and flustered, which had made her even more gauche than usual. But the regrettable fact that she had been rude to Lady Shaw was not the only uncomfortable thought which was bothering Mamie. She glanced at Rhoda from time to time, and wondered what she was thinking of her new acquaintance. Rhoda’s face was turned away; she was looking out of the side window, but Mamie was aware that her guest was not her usual cheerful, carefree self.
Having said nothing about Miss Douglas during the drive home it was a little difficult to broach the subject, and it was not until they were half-way through lunch, for which Rhoda seemed to have little appetite, that any reference was made to the meeting in the kirk yard.
‘I’m frightened,’ said Rhoda suddenly. ‘Mamie, I’m simply terrified. I think I’ll go back to Yorkshire tomorrow.’
‘Oh, Rhoda!’
‘Don’t you see? James may have changed his mind. You can’t be certain he hasn’t changed his mind. You aren’t certain, Mamie.’
Mamie hesitated.
‘You see! You can’t say you’re certain, can you? And if he comes back and finds me here, waiting for him! Oh, hell!’ exclaimed Rhoda, getting up and walking over to the window. ‘Why did I come pursuing him like this? Why didn’t I write or something?’
‘But Rhoda, why suddenly?’
‘Because of that girl. You were wrong about her, Mamie. She isn’t the sort of girl men kiss, she’s the type men fall for in a big way. She’s a traffic-stopper, that’s what she is… and you heard what she said, didn’t you? It was naughty of James not to tell her he was coming to see her… and he expected to find her waiting for him … and James is teaching her to fish… and she isn’t an intelligent pupil but he’s extraordinarily patient with her!’
‘They did go fishing together,’ said Mamie doubtfully. She would have liked to comfort Rhoda as she had done before, to tell her not to worry and to assure her that everything would be all right; but she, too, had been alarmed at the possessive manner in which Holly had spoken of James.
‘I shall go tomorrow,’ declared Rhoda. ‘It would put James in an impossible position if I were here waiting for him. You see that, don’t you, Mamie? I simply must go. You can tell him I’ve been here. No, you mustn’t tell him. You mustn’t mention my name.’
‘Rhoda, listen.’
‘No, darling, I couldn’t bear to listen. I know what you’re going to say. I’ll go back to Catterick tomorrow and I’ll write. I’ll write him a friendly letter and then he can do as he likes, can’t he? He won’t feel bound to,’
‘Don’t go tomorrow,’ said Mamie. ‘You can wait until Tuesday morning.’
Rhoda was silent.
‘Please, Rhoda,’ urged Mamie, rising and going over to join Rhoda at the window. ‘Do please stay till Tuesday morning. They won’t be home till tea-time and it’s so lovely for me to have you… and there’s the picture, remember. You said you couldn’t finish it in one afternoon.’
Rhoda put her arm round Mamie’s waist and they stood there together, looking out. ‘All right,’ said Rhoda huskily, ‘I’ll stay and finish the picture and give it to you, only you must promise not to show it to James. Oh, Mamie, haven’t I made a hash of everything.’
Rhoda spent Sunday afternoon at the Stanes, painting industriously and returned in a more cheerful frame of mind. This was because the picture was coming along even better than she had hoped. In all arts there are occasions when the human tool is made an instrument of some Higher Power; such visitations are infrequent, alas, but when they take place they are glorious indeed. Rhoda experienced such a visitation this afternoon – her veins became full of ichor so that she could do nothing wrong. Somebody guided her brush and she surrendered herself to guidance, freely and gladly.
Rhoda painted until the shadows began to alter and then packed up and walked back to Mureth on air.
‘Look,’ said Rhoda, putting her unfinished canvas upon the drawing-room mantelpiece and standing back to view it from a distance. ‘Look, Mamie, I’ve got the masses blocked in.’
Mamie was disappointed. She was aware that the picture was not finished, of course, but she could see no sense in it at all. To her untutored eyes it was a mess. A mess of bright colours which bore little or no resemblance to the subject it was intended to represent. Mamie had liked the sketch much better; she had seen promise in the sketch. She tried to hide her opinion of the picture but without success, for Mamie was not versed in the art of subterfuge.
‘You wait,’ said Rhoda cheerfully. ‘I shouldn’t have let you see it until it was finished. It was idiotic of me, but I forgot you knew nothing about painting.’ And so saying she removed her canvas and carried it away.
The evening was passed very pleasantly with music from Peer Gynt (which is picture-music par excellence, and therefore eminently suitable for the entertainment of a painter), and soon after ten o’clock they went upstairs to bed. Mamie made certain that her guest was comfortable and supplied with a book and biscuits and a hot-water bottle, and having said good-night, she went along the passage to her own room.
This was when Mamie missed Jock most, for this was the time they always chatted and discussed the events of the day. She wondered if Jock were missing her. She wondered what sort of room they had given Jock, a quiet room she hoped. She wondered if the bed was comfortable.
Mamie sighed and began to brush her hair. Jock often brushed her hair; he liked doing it and did it well, with smooth firm strokes. It was because Jock liked brushing it that Mamie had never had her hair cut short like other women.
At this moment the telephone bell rang and Mamie, picking up the receiver of the extension which stood beside her bed, heard Jock’s voice.
‘Mamie!’ said Jock’s voice. ‘I just thought I’d give you a ring and have a wee chat. It’s not too late, is it?’
‘Oh, Jock no, not a bit late!’
‘The fact is I’ve been showing James the town and we’ve just got back. Are you in bed?’
‘I’m in the middle of brushing my hair.’
‘Give it a hundred strokes, mind.’
‘I’m missing you frightfully,’ Mamie told him.
‘Good,’ laughed Jock. ‘It wouldn’t be fair if I was doing all the missing.’
‘So you’re glad I’m unhappy!’
‘You’re not really unhappy, are you?’
‘No, of course not.’
‘Not lonely?’ asked Jock anxiously.
‘Not a bit lonely. I’ve got a visitor.’<
br />
‘You’ve got what?’
‘I’ll tell you on Tuesday,’ Mamie said. She had just remembered that Rhoda did not want her presence to be made known to James and, for all Mamie knew, James might be standing beside Jock at the telephone. ‘I’ll tell you all about everything on Tuesday. I suppose you’ve got things fixed up with Mr. MacGregor?’
‘On the way to being fixed. Apparently it’ll take a while to put through, but Mr. MacGregor will come down to Mureth for a week-end and finish the business. You’ll see Willy Dunne remembers to fetch us?’
‘Of course!’
‘How’s Mrs. Dunne?’ asked Jock, and Mamie could tell by his voice he was smiling.
‘It’s all very well for you to grin like that,’ she declared. ‘You think it doesn’t matter when they fight. Mrs. Dunne ran after me this morning and,’
‘And wanted to speak to you for a moment?’
‘Yes, but, Jock,’
‘Why do you let her worry you? Tell her you’re busy.’
‘I can’t. She sort of hypnotises me. It’s about the rabbits.’
‘Rabbits?’
‘She’s cross because James sometimes gives old Mr. Couper a rabbit. He’s only got six teeth you know, and,’
Jock was laughing now. ‘De’il tak’ the auld besom!’ he exclaimed. ‘Tell her when she’s ninety and has six teeth in her head she’ll get rabbits, too.’
This conversation comforted Mamie. She had been worrying about the Dunne v. Couper feud over James’s rabbits, but now she saw how silly it was. She could not tell Mrs. Dunne exactly what Jock had said, but she could mention Mr. Cooper’s teeth, or lack of teeth, and pour oil upon the troubled waters. Jock was wise; he was well balanced; you could lean upon him as if he were a rock.
She lay in bed and thought about Jock. It was wonderful to have Jock. She wanted everybody to have the same sort of happiness which had been granted to her and Jock; she wanted James and Rhoda to have it. What a pity Rhoda had made up her mind to go! Mamie understood her reason perfectly, but it was a pity all the same. Rhoda had said she would write, but a letter was a poor medium of expression. A letter was unsatisfactory, cold, capable of misinterpretation. If only Rhoda would stay and meet James and talk to him Mamie felt certain that all would be well. All must be well, thought Mamie. There was no comparison between the two girls; they were as different as night from day. Night and day, thought Mamie, that’s what they are. Rhoda is like sunshine. Oh, God, please let it be Rhoda!
Music in the Hills (Drumberley Book 2) Page 23