by Val McDermid
John laughed loudly. ‘This new lot are all lightweights when it comes to drinking, trust me. When I was a fresher, we’d think nothing of knocking back two or three bottles of wine each on a good night, with a few brandy chasers. But I hear this year’s lot were falling over their feet after a single bottle.’
‘Maybe they weren’t as well off as your crowd,’ Cat said. ‘Maybe they’d been preloading on the cheap vodka. James told me that’s what people do in Newcastle.’
He shook his head, pityingly. ‘Then they need to find a way to earn enough money to drink properly.’
‘You don’t have to be a big drinker to get on, though. James hardly drinks at all.’
John snorted like a pig. But whatever he said was lost in the growl of a massive articulated lorry sitting next to them at the lights. Cat remained unenlightened as to the true extent of her brother’s indulgence in the Oxford high life.
Once they could hear each other speak again, John launched into a detailed explanation of precisely how rubbish her brother’s borrowed car was. ‘I bet it hasn’t even got an MOT,’ he shouted as they turned on to the dual carriageway of the A1 and he stamped on the accelerator. Cat narrowed her eyes against the scourging wind and held her hair in a tight ponytail to prevent it whipping painfully against her face. She could barely make out the speedo, but she managed to discern that they had left the speed limit in the dust.
By the time they reached North Berwick, she was freezing and nauseous. She had never been happier to see a car park. ‘It’ll be ages before Jamie and Bella get here. We can get a head start on the drinks,’ he announced, making for the entrance of the gastropub he claimed produced the best fish and chips in East Lothian, according to his boss in London.
Cat caught up with him by the door and grabbed his sleeve. ‘I’m not going back with you if you have a drink,’ she said mutinously.
His lip curled in a sneer. ‘Then how will you get back?’
‘I’ll go with James. He doesn’t drink and drive. And neither should you.’
He cocked his head, considering her. For once, the words of someone else had penetrated the thick shell of his self-esteem. ‘For the sake of buggering barnacles,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘All right, Miss Goody Two Shoes. I’ll stick to mineral water. Just for you. But remember that when I want a favour from you.’
He strode into the pub, oblivious to her saying, ‘Obeying the law isn’t a favour.’ Wearily, she followed him inside and found him at the bar ordering two sparkling mineral waters. ‘If I can’t drink, neither can you,’ he said dismissively.
‘I’m still only seventeen so I can’t drink legally in a pub anyway,’ Cat said, taking her glass and crossing to a table in the window. She prayed her brother would not be much longer for she did not know how much more of this conversation she could endure.
Her companion was all brag and bluster, exaggeration and embellishment, hyperbole and histrionics. Nothing in Cat’s life had prepared her for John Thorpe. Her own family were direct and matter-of-fact to the point of dullness. Even the Allens, who moved in relatively exalted circles, never boasted about their connections or inflated their own worth at the expense of others. But John was a man who never owned a mistake, whose every anecdote showed him in a glowing light, whose skills and abilities were second to none. Cat was certain she was supposed to marvel that he had deigned to honour her with his presence.
It was all very perplexing because it was so unexpected. Bella spoke of him with such warmth, praising his sense of fun and his generosity. And James, her sweet-natured, clever brother, had told her that women found him irresistible. Neither had so much as hinted at how wearyingly self-absorbed his conversation was. Briefly, Cat considered the problem might lie with her and her undoubted lack of social sophistication. But when James and Bella finally joined them, the atmosphere changed completely and Cat found herself having fun.
The drive had given them all an appetite for the fish and chips – excellent as billed – and they were soon back on the road, much to the relief of Cat, who was mindful of Ellie Tilney’s schedule for the afternoon. She gritted her teeth and blotted out both the return journey and the blowhard bullshit of her companion with a full-blooded daydream of how the rest of the day would play out.
When they arrived back in Queen Street, Cat felt obliged to invite them in for tea and cakes. Bella was halfway out of the car when she looked at her watch and screamed. ‘Look at the time. OMG, how did it get so late? It’s past three o’clock and Ma has tickets for a play at Summerhall at four.’
‘For us too?’ her brother demanded, sounding disgruntled.
‘Yes, she managed to get her hands on a pair of returns this morning.’ Bella got out of the car and wrapped Cat in a tight hug. ‘This is so stupid, when am I ever going to get to talk to you? This totally sucks. We’re going on to dinner afterwards with some family friends, so boring. I’d much rather we were together.’
Cat was torn between missing their intimate chats and wanting to be rid of them all so she could track down Ellie Tilney. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘Susie has tickets for the Book Festival this evening. A crime writer and a historical novelist.’
John rolled his eyes. ‘Rather you than me.’
‘Will we see you later?’ Cat asked her brother.
Looking faintly embarrassed, he said, ‘Like Bella said, her mum managed to get a pair of tickets. I don’t want to let her down after she put herself out for me like that.’
‘And he might as well come to dinner since he’s staying with us,’ Bella added. ‘So we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’ She air-kissed Cat on both sides then jumped back into the car with a cheerful wave.
Cat ran upstairs, reckoning she just had time to brush her hair after its buffeting in the car. And maybe to change into a fresh T-shirt that didn’t smell of petrol fumes. As she burst in, she almost crashed into Susie, who was hanging up her wrap. ‘Oh, there you are,’ she said, her capacity for stating the obvious undiminished by her exposure to Edinburgh intellectual life. ‘Did you have a lovely time?’
Cat had been brought up always to have something positive to say about any experience. ‘The fish and chips was excellent.’
‘Martha said it would be. She was thrilled that the four of you were going off together.’ She went through to the kitchen, Cat at her heels.
‘You saw Mrs Thorpe this morning?’
‘We met up for coffee in George Street. And who should we see but Ellie and Henry Tilney.’
Taken aback, Cat said, ‘But Ellie told me she had tickets for the Pleasance today.’
Susie nodded sagely. ‘That’s right, so she did. But you know everybody’s been raving about the South African production of Macbeth in the main festival, and it turns out that one of the family knows the company manager and he snagged them some tickets for this afternoon’s matinee. So Ellie handed back her Fringe tickets and was all set for Macbeth with her father and Henry.’
‘Oh.’
‘We had a lovely chat. They’re really charming, Henry and Ellie. They remind me of you and James, such good manners and such attractive personalities. Ellie was wearing a beautiful dress, cream with tiny sprigs of herbs all over it. Almost Regency looking. She’s obviously got very individual taste, that girl.’
‘Yes, apparently.’
‘Martha’s friend Helen was with us, and she told us all about the family after Henry and Ellie had gone.’
Now Cat was eager. ‘What did she say?’
‘Their family home is in the Borders, Northanger Abbey. Helen says they’ve lived there since before Flodden, whenever that was. And they’re very well off.’ Susie filled the kettle and turned it on.
‘And are their parents both here in Edinburgh with them?’
Susie frowned. ‘Now, what did she say . . . ? They can’t both be dead otherwise who would have sorted the tickets out . . . I think their mother is dead. Yes, I’m sure she is, because Helen said Ellie inherited her mother’s jewellery. Now
what else was it she said . . . ? Oh yes. Apparently the mother was practically a recluse for years before she actually died.’ Susie gave Cat a knowing look. ‘And we all know what that means, don’t we?’
‘Do we?’
Susie raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, there’s no reason why you would know, my dear. You’ve so little experience of the world. But often it means . . .’ she lowered her voice, ‘. . . mental health problems. Sometimes as a result of domestic abuse. Physical or psychological. Not that Helen said that in so many words, but reading between the lines . . .’
Cat, lacking the experience to distinguish speculative gossip from truth, gathered the information as if it were gospel. ‘That doesn’t sound good. What about the other brother, Freddie? Did you pick up any info about him?’
Susie looked doubtful. ‘She didn’t say, I don’t think. But it was lovely to run into them.’
‘Did they ask after me?’ She hardly dared ask the question, but she needed to know the answer.
Susie put a finger to her chin. ‘Now I come to think of it . . . No, I don’t think they did.’
Crestfallen, Cat enquired no further. She had heard enough, and she excused herself, rushing to her bedroom and throwing herself down on the coverlet. The knowledge of what she had missed festered in her heart, and the more she felt the anguish of missing out on the Tilneys, the more she disliked John Thorpe and his stupid red sports car. That, she vowed, would be the last moment of her time she would waste on that blowhard bore.
10
The following morning, Cat walked up to the Book Festival grounds with the Allens. Mr Allen was intent on listening to some economist talking about first world problems, so the two women were free to drink coffee and eat shortbread till their friends joined them. They’d barely settled themselves with lattes and biscuits when the entire female division of the Thorpe family arrived, along with James. Cat was thrilled by the absence of John Thorpe, but she said nothing in case it was construed as taking an interest in his whereabouts. And then someone might text him and summon him and her morning would be ruined.
While James queued to fulfil everyone’s orders for hot and cold drinks, Bella slung an arm round Cat’s shoulders, complaining about the length of their separation. ‘At last!’ she said, drawing her chair closer. ‘How’s tricks? I mean, not that I need to ask because you look stunning. You’ve done something different with your hair, haven’t you? Man, you are trying to make yourself irresistible, nobody else in Edinburgh’s going to get a look in, you evil witch. My bro totally fancies you, and obviously Henry Tilney feels the same way since he came back to Edinburgh and made a bee-line for you. Like, wow. My ma says he’s practically edible. You have to introduce us, right? First chance? I’m buzzing to meet him. Is he around this morning?’
‘I haven’t seen him.’
‘Oh, poo. Am I never going to meet this stallion? Oh, but, do you like my new top? Ma has this woman who makes stuff for her and I got her to do this to my own design. Cool, right? I thought Edinburgh would be more interesting fashion-wise, didn’t you? But it’s really quite dull. Considering they’re all so creative, their clothes are like, totally similar. Jamie and I were just saying this morning how we’re really tired of the city, and how we were gagging for the countryside. Honestly, you wouldn’t believe how in tune we are. We think the same about everything. I’m really glad you weren’t with us because you’d have been ripping the piss out of us.’
‘Why would I do that?’
Bella poked her arm. ‘Because you would have wanted to see us squirm. You’d have been teasing us about being made for each other or some other sick story like that. You’d have had me blushing as red as your T-shirt.’
‘No way,’ Cat protested. ‘That’s not who I am. And besides, it wouldn’t have crossed my mind.’
‘Hah! I know you better than you know yourself, missy. But here’s Jamie, back with our lovely coffees.’ She cooed at him while he distributed drinks and scones and shortbread and had him sit beside her at the cramped table.
As soon as they’d cleared their plates and emptied their cups, Bella linked arms with James and stood up. ‘Time for us to go walkabout.’ Almost as an afterthought, she said, ‘Come on, Cat, let’s see who we can see. I swear I saw Stephen Fry earlier, over by the Author’s Yurt.’
Cat fell into step beside them but it soon became clear to her that she was only there as a sort of chaperone to stop the adult tongues wagging. James and Bella kept whispering in each other’s ears so even if they’d wanted to include Cat, she wouldn’t have been able to contribute to a subject whose identity was unknown to her. Besides, the duckboard walkways were too narrow for them to walk comfortably three abreast when there were other book lovers to be taken into consideration. Cat was on the point of making her excuses and heading into the bookshop when she caught sight of Ellie Tilney emerging from the Spiegeltent.
Cat cut across the corner of the grass and waved to Ellie, whose solemn face lit up in a smile. ‘Hi, Ellie,’ Cat said. ‘How are you doing?’
‘Good, thanks. And you?’
‘I’m sorry I missed you yesterday, I got dragged off for a run out to North Berwick for fish and chips, thanks to my brother’s friend who wanted to show off his new car.’
‘Tedious,’ Ellie said, falling into step beside Cat. ‘Men and cars is a recipe for boredom.’
‘Susie was telling me you managed to snag tickets for Macbeth, you lucky thing.’
Ellie nodded enthusiastically. ‘It was brilliant. Really dark and sinister. They played it like the Macbeths believed they were invincible, like they had special powers.’
‘What? Like vampires or something?’
‘Exactly that. So it was all the more shocking when everything started coming apart the way it would for mere mortals. Henry hasn’t stopped talking about it.’
Even the sound of his name made Cat tingle. ‘Henry’s such a good dancer.’ The non sequitur was out of her mouth before she could check it with her brain. The line clearly surprised and amused her companion.
‘I suppose,’ Ellie said with a smile.
‘I hope he didn’t take it the wrong way the other evening. When that idiot Johnny Thorpe pushed in and stopped us dancing together. OK, I did say I would have a dance with him, but he made out that he was my partner for the evening, which was total crap. So rude.’ She tried to stop herself babbling but without success. ‘It was really nice to see Henry again, I thought he’d gone for good.’
‘Oh no, when he met you at Fiona’s, he’d just come up to make sure the house was all prepared for us. My dad’s such a total perfectionist, Henry wanted to avoid any hassle with the rental company and the staff.’
That would never have occurred to Cat, it being so far from her own experience of the world. ‘Right. So who was it I saw him dancing with after I got dragged off by Johnny?’
‘Miranda Tait-Brown. Her mother and my mother were at school together. We’ve known the Tait-Browns all our lives.’
‘She must have been well pleased to have such a good dancer for a partner.’ And before she could stop herself – ‘Do you think she’s pretty?’
Ellie raised one eyebrow. ‘Never have.’
‘Is Henry coming to the Book Festival today, then?’
‘No, he’s gone on a ride-out with my father.’
‘What’s a ride-out? I’ve never heard of that.’
‘Most of the Borders towns have a traditional ceremony where they sort of beat the bounds or mark something about the town’s history. It’s an excuse for a bunch of men to mount up their horses and ride over the fields then get horribly drunk. There might have been a good reason for it once but now it’s just silly business.’ Ellie glanced over at the book tent. ‘Look, have you got a minute?’
Regardless of her commitments, Cat would have said yes. She followed Ellie into the temporary bookshop, where her new friend selected a large coffee-table book from one of the displays and beckoned Cat to one of the sofas arran
ged around the room. She checked the contents page and opened the book about halfway through, so it sat across both their thighs. ‘This is the Langholm Common Riding,’ she said, pointing to a striking photograph of a quartet of plump bowler-hatted men on horseback riding through a narrow street. ‘These guys are called the cornets. You see, they’re carrying the standard.’
She turned the page to reveal an imposing fortified house against a dawn sky. Cat had learned enough in Edinburgh to understand it was a hybrid of Gothic and Scots Baronial. In the foreground, a string of riders in scarlet coats and bowler hats cut a dramatic diagonal swathe across the photograph. ‘That’s Northanger Abbey and this is our ride-out.’
‘OMG,’ Cat breathed. The abbey was vampire heaven. It was the perfect setting for an adventure in the Hebridean Harpies series. She said as much, and Ellie raised her eyebrows, a wry smile quirking one corner of her mouth.
‘You’re not the first one to say that. It’s not nearly as grand as it looks, though. Some parts of it are almost modern.’ She pointed to the figure at the head of the ride-out. His face was unreadable in the limited light of the dawn, but his carriage was erect and his lean figure a sharp contrast to the Langholm cornets. ‘That’s my dad.’ Neither her voice nor her face gave anything away about her feelings towards her father. She glanced at her watch. ‘Oh God, is that the time? I’m supposed to meet my cousin for lunch out in Cramond. I have to run.’ She dumped the book on Cat’s lap and jumped to her feet. ‘Lovely to see you again – are you going to the Highland Ball tomorrow night?’
‘Yes, will I see you there?’
‘For sure.’ Ellie bent down and gave Cat a quick hug. Cat watched her leave, holding tight to the book, thinking that it would be hard to imagine how the day could have been improved upon.
Although Annie Morland had worked hard to convince her daughters that fretting over clothes was a waste of time and energy, she might as well have saved her energy. From the moment Ellie Tilney left her side until Cat arrived at the Highland Ball, nothing occupied her thoughts but how she could look good enough to captivate Henry Tilney. Had she paid more attention to her mother, she would have understood how little store men set by the cut of a woman’s dress; at least, the sort of men it would be worth her while trying to attract. No man would notice her outfit except when it revealed too much; no woman would be happy unless they could find something to criticise. Cat had yet to learn that she would be best served by dressing to please herself rather than ceding control to another’s taste, real or imagined. Instead, she was convinced that the wrong choice would destroy her chances of impressing Henry, so her entire day was spent in consideration of her wardrobe.