by Val McDermid
Before their constraint became uncomfortable, they were swooped on by Bella, who threw herself on the chair next to Cat and exclaimed, ‘There you are. At last. I’ve been scouring the dance floor for you for ages. You totally missed the Dashing White Sergeant, and I was buzzing for you to make up a threesome with me and Jamie.’
Cat’s face fell under her friend’s attack. ‘I’m sorry. I looked, but I couldn’t even see you.’
James arrived just in time to take a gentle punch in the arm from Bella. ‘I told your hopeless brother to go and look for you but he wouldn’t leave my side. Honestly, Cat, men are so lazy.’
‘It wouldn’t have done any good if I’d found Cat only to mislay you,’ James said in his defence.
Bella rolled her eyes. ‘Hopeless.’
Cat leaned back in her seat so she could include Ellie in the conversation. But her new friend was already on her feet. ‘I have to go,’ she said. ‘I promised my father I’d meet him in the supper room. It was lovely to meet you.’ And she bowed with curious formality before backing away and making for the exit.
‘Who on earth was that?’ Bella asked. ‘She acts like she’s in Pride and Prejudice.’
‘That’s Henry Tilney’s sister, Ellie.’ Cat stared after the disappearing figure. There was something about Ellie, something out of time and out of style. Like there would be if you were a two-hundred-year-old vampire, she thought with a mixture of dread and delight.
‘Is he here?’ Bella looked around eagerly. ‘Is he half as good looking as she is? Where is the all-conquering brother? Point him out to me, I’m totally dying to see him.’
‘What are you both on about?’ James asked.
‘Honestly, you men talk about women gossiping, but you’re just as bad. Actually, no, you’re worse. You’re like little old women, you put your heads together and gossip, gossip, gossip about cars and women and sport. Well, Jamie, this is our little secret and we’re not sharing.’ Bella prodded him in the chest to drive home her point.
James laughed. ‘You’re just trying to hide the fact that you’ve got nothing important to say.’
‘Cheeky boy,’ Bella complained. ‘Honestly, Cat, you’ve done an atrocious job of bringing up Jamie. He has no idea at all of how to treat a woman. You’d better stop eavesdropping, Master Jamie, or you might hear something you don’t want to.’
The banter continued between Jamie and Bella, freeing Cat from any responsibility to contribute. She was grateful that the subject of Henry had been sidetracked, though there was a tiny part of her that was disappointed by Bella’s swift loss of interest in a subject that was so dear to Cat’s heart. She might not want to discuss him, but she wanted to have it confirmed that he was worthy of discussion.
When the band struck up again, James was immediately on his feet, picking up Bella’s hand as he rose. ‘Come on, Bella, it’s a St Bernard’s Waltz. You like to waltz.’
Cat wondered how he could make so confident an assertion, considering how little he knew Bella. And how brief she assumed his own acquaintance with Scottish country dancing to be. However, her friend responded, ‘I don’t like to waltz, I love it. So dreamy. But my evil sisters will tease us if we dance together all night, Jamie.’
‘You’re confusing me with someone who gives a toss. They’re just jealous. I want to waltz with a beautiful woman, but I’ll make do with you, Bella.’ His smile was impish, his words free of sting.
‘You are so bad, Jamie. Will you be OK, Cat? I don’t know where my hopeless brother has got to . . .’ She looked around, distracted. ‘Oh, I’m sure he’ll be back in a minute.’ Without further pretence at reluctance, she followed James on to the dance floor and let him draw her close as the dance permitted.
Cat felt her shoulders slump in spite of her determination to remain straight-backed and cheerful in the face of her disappointment. Martha Thorpe leaned across and patted her arm. ‘He’ll be back soon, then you’ll be happy again. He’ll have you tripping the light fantastic again. What an adorable couple you make.’
It took her a moment to realise Martha was speaking of her son. ‘I’m fine as I am, thank you,’ she said.
‘Of course you are,’ Martha said condescendingly. ‘But you must feel deflated after enjoying John’s high spirits on the dance floor.’
Susie interrupted, saving Cat from having to find an anodyne response. ‘Did you see Henry?’
‘No, where is he?’
Susie looked around, puzzled. ‘He was with us just now, when you were talking to Bella and James. He said he was tired of lounging about and he wanted to dance. I thought he was coming over to ask you.’
Dismayed, Cat cast an eye over the dancers as they turned and glided past her. And there she saw Henry, smiling down at a frankly dumpy little woman whose dress didn’t suit her in the slightest.
Susie caught sight of him at the same moment. ‘Oh. He’s dancing with someone else.’ After a short silence, she added, ‘He really is a lovely young man.’
‘You’re so right,’ Martha chipped in complacently. ‘I shouldn’t say it about my own son, but there is not a more charming young man in the city, never mind in this room.’
Cat and Susie exchanged a look, both bursting to giggle at Martha’s misapprehension. But that was Cat’s last moment of levity for the evening. Before the dance was over, John Thorpe returned and dropped like a stone into the chair next to her. ‘Shocking hands I’ve just had to endure through there. I thought I might as well come back here and take you for another turn round the floor.’
‘That’s very kind of you. But I’ve danced enough for one evening. And my feet hurt from when you stood on them before.’
He looked dumbfounded. ‘I stood on your feet? I think it’s more like you misplaced your feet and put them where mine needed to be. Come on, let’s have another crack at it and see if you can’t manage it better this time.’
‘Honestly, I’m too tired.’
He gave a heavy, put-upon sigh. ‘OK, then let’s go walkabout and see who we can rip the piss out of.’
‘Really, I’m happy where I am. On you go, though. Don’t let me spoil your fun.’
He looked as if he was about to make another attempt, but just then his sister Jess came by and he snagged her arm. ‘Jess, let’s go and see who we can wind up. Come on, we’ll show them how to have a good time.’
For the rest of the evening, Cat skulked round the fringes of the fun. She moved between the ballroom and the supper room, trying to look purposeful. She even took a couple of selfies to post on her Facebook page so she could pretend to her sisters that she was having the time of her life.
Later, as the balmy night air filled her bedroom, she studied the photos more closely, the better to decide which to post. In the background of one, to her surprise and consternation, was the unmistakable figure of Henry Tilney, his dark inscrutable eyes fixed unswervingly on her.
9
Cat’s reaction to the photograph was not, as might be supposed, unmitigated pleasure. Instead, she was filled with an overwhelming desire to eat chocolate. Mr Allen came home towards midnight to find her working her way through the remains of a chocolate fudge cake from the fridge. ‘The raging munchies,’ he said, eyebrows raised, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. ‘Tell me you’ve not been smoking dope, Cat.’
Shocked that he would even think such a thing, Cat exclaimed, ‘Even if I did take drugs, I would never abuse your hospitality like that.’
Seeing that he had genuinely upset her, Mr Allen sat down at the table and helped himself to a broken chunk of fudge icing. ‘Relax, Cat. I was only teasing. But if you ever did need a non-judgemental place to smoke a joint, you could do a lot worse than to come round to our house.’
‘Are you saying you and Susie do drugs?’ This was the final disappointment of what had been a profoundly anti-climactic evening. It was not that Cat was a prig; simply that home schooling meant she had never been offered illicit drugs nor was she aware of anyone in her
immediate circle who indulged. What she knew of drug-taking she had learned from books and films and it had awakened no desire in her to partake.
Mr Allen chuckled. ‘Not any more. But we did enjoy our misspent youths. It’s OK, Cat, I didn’t really think you’d been getting stoned, it’s just that I’ve never seen you working your way through great slabs of cake at any time of day, never mind last thing at night. And one of the side effects of dope is that it makes you want to stuff yourself with sweet things.’
Unwilling to share the reason for her comfort eating, Cat wrapped up the last of the cake and replaced it in the fridge. ‘I just didn’t get much to eat at the dance,’ she said. ‘Good night.’
Cat went to bed determined to lie awake and wallow in her misery. Instead, she was asleep in minutes and when she woke nine hours later, her despair had evaporated, replaced by a buoyant optimism that spawned fresh hopes and fresh schemes.
Phase one of her plan was to develop her new acquaintance with Ellie Tilney. She told herself that it was for the girl’s own sake, but in her secret heart she knew she sought to reach the brother through the sister. She had gleaned from their conversation that Ellie had tickets for three events at the Pleasance that day. Cat checked the Fringe programme and discovered that the first of these was due to take place at noon. She determined to make her way over there after eleven, so she could appear to be a fellow audience member when Ellie arrived.
To pass the time, she curled up in an armchair with the Hebridean Harpies. Being part of a large family had allowed Cat to develop the habit of selective deafness, so she was more or less immune to the random remarks and exclamations of Susie, who, having so little to occupy her mind, was determined to share whatever trifle happened to cross it. Whether it was an intriguing item in her Twitter feed or a stain on her dress, a traffic jam in the street below or a particular pigeon on a ledge across the street, Susie had to pass comment, regardless of the reactions of Cat or Mr Allen.
But it was impossible to ignore the shriek of delighted astonishment that Susie let out at the sight of something in the street below. ‘What is it?’ Cat asked, dragging her attention away from Ghasts of Gigha to present company.
‘Look,’ Susie exclaimed. ‘It’s Johnny Thorpe in an amazing red sports car. And your brother and Bella in . . .’ She tailed off.
Mr Allen, who had joined her at the window, completed her sentence. ‘A rather clapped-out Triumph Spitfire, unless I’m mistaken.’
‘Oooh! Johnny’s jumped out, he’s coming up!’ Susie clapped her hands over her face. ‘Look at me, I’m wearing rags, I’m hardly made up at all! What will he think?’
‘I don’t imagine it’s you he’s come to see,’ Mr Allen said drily. And now there was a hammering at the door. ‘Bloody boy doesn’t know what a doorbell’s for,’ he grumbled as he went to answer it.
Johnny bounded in, a cheeky grin on his face, tight jeans and a striped shirt on his body. A throat-closing swirl of pungent aftershave hung in the air around him. ‘Well, Cat, here I am. Have you been waiting long? It took your brother longer than he expected to sort out the loan of a set of wheels. Good morning, Mrs Allen, bloody good night last night, wasn’t it? I went back to the tables after you left, made a few hundred at the blackjack table. Splendid night, all told. Come on then, Cat, we’re on a double yellow and we’re all waiting for you.’ He rolled his hand from the wrist, imploring her to get on with it.
‘What do you mean? Where are you all going to?’
He rolled his eyes, which brought home his resemblance to his sister Bella. ‘Going to? What have you got instead of brains, Cat? Have you forgotten our date? A run out to North Berwick for fish and chips? We’re all ready and waiting.’
‘You mentioned it in passing, I don’t remember a firm arrangement being made. You could have texted me or Facebooked me.’
He looked affronted. ‘What, you think I’m the kind of man who just makes idle promises? Cat, I work in the City now, where a man’s word is his bond.’
‘Or not, as has apparently been the case with some of our bankers,’ Mr Allen cut in darkly.
‘Whatever. Text or no text, you’d have kicked off royally if I hadn’t turned up, I bet.’
All Cat wanted from the day was to see Ellie Tilney. And she knew that her new friend had tickets for three events at the Pleasance. The run out to North Berwick couldn’t take that long. She was bound to be back in time to catch Ellie later in the day. And if she dug her heels in and refused to go, it would only cause bad feeling that would spoil the day for her brother and her friend. The only thing that could override John’s insistence and not reflect badly on her would be if Susie vetoed the outing because of pre-existing plans. She cast her a beseeching look and said, ‘Is that OK with you, Susie? It’s not interfering with your plans?’
Susie either failed to notice the entreaty or misread it altogether for she said, ‘Of course, you must go off with James and your friends. You don’t want to be stuck with fuddy duddy me all day, do you?’ And she shooed them out the door like a mother hen, busily telling John how wonderful a young woman Cat was and how he must spoil her as she deserved to be spoiled.
Cat hurried down the stairs in John’s wake, emerging to the sound of Bella whooping with joy at the sight of her. ‘Hey, girlfriend! What kept you?’ Cat ran across the pavement and embraced Bella, who muttered in her ear, ‘I totally need to talk to you about last night, but it’ll have to wait till these guys are done with driving around like Formula One maniacs.’
‘Come on, Cat.’ John was already in the driving seat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.
As she turned away, she heard Bella say to her brother, ‘She’s such a sweetie, Jamie.’ It was a gratifying moment, given how unloved she had felt the previous evening. She let herself down into the low-slung passenger seat and John revved the engine, filling the street with its low boom.
‘I warn you, I’m one hell of a driver,’ John said, slamming the car into gear and shooting forward. The acceleration thrust Cat back into her seat, but she was almost immediately thrown against the seat belt when the next traffic light turned red and they were forced to stop with a screech of brakes.
Hell was right, she thought, as they proceeded east out of the city in a series of sudden leaps and abrupt halts. On a couple of occasions, Cat managed to glance behind at her brother and Bella, who seemed to be keeping up with them despite travelling in a far less violent fashion. Through it all, John maintained a steady monologue, requiring nothing more from Cat than the occasional grunt, which was just as well since she felt beyond speech.
‘I love having the top down. The wind in your hair, the sun on your face, the feeling of freedom.’
The traffic fumes and the dust in your eyes, Cat thought.
‘Wait till we hit the A1, then I’ll show you what she can do. Your brother will never keep up in that old rustbucket he borrowed.’ And so on, and so forth.
As they turned into London Road, John abruptly changed the subject. ‘Old Allen – is he Jewish?’
Catherine had no idea what prompted the question and it made her slightly uneasy. ‘Mr Allen? He’s not that old. And I don’t think he’s Jewish. They come to church at Christmas. Why does it matter? Why are you bothered?’
‘Just curious.’ He gave a harsh bark of laughter. ‘He’s got all the financial acumen of a Jew. They’re still top of the tree in the finance business, you know. And he’s definitely made plenty of money over the years, no?’
‘I suppose so. They have a lovely house in the village and a flat in Holland Park. And they’re always taking exotic holidays.’ There was no envy in Cat’s words, merely a statement of fact.
‘They’ve no kids of their own, right?’
‘That’s right. Susie says she never wanted kids, but sometimes I wonder.’
‘But they’re your godparents, right?’
Cat frowned and grabbed the side of the car as they lurched round a milk float at speed. ‘No, they�
�re just family friends.’
‘But you’re special to them, right? Or else why would they bring you to Edinburgh with them for a whole month?’
‘Mr Allen thought I would be company for Susie while he’s working.’
‘You sure it’s her you’re here to keep amused and not him?’
When Cat understood his meaning, she was so annoyed she would likely have jumped out of the car if they’d been stationary. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say,’ she told him. ‘You make him sound like some dirty old pervert. And he’s nothing like that at all. That’s a revolting idea. He doesn’t even tell smutty jokes. He’s a genuinely nice man, I don’t know how you dare to suggest otherwise.’
John grunted, as if dissatisfied with her response. ‘I heard he’s got health problems.’
‘He had a minor heart attack in the spring, he’s supposed to take things a bit easier. That’s why Susie’s here for the whole month this time – she wanted to keep an eye on him.’
‘But he’s still knocking back the Scotch, right? I saw him the other night at a whisky tasting and he was giving it some welly for a man who’s supposed to be looking after his heart.’
‘I think that’s his business, don’t you?’
‘I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,’ John said. ‘Living in this country is so bloody depressing you need something to cheer you up.’
‘Yes, I hear you students apparently needed a lot of cheering up. My dad says it’s shocking how much you lot drink compared with what it was like in his day.’ This was as close to waspishness as Cat was capable of.