If Love Be Love

by Flora Kidd

  His glance was probing and she looked away and said lightly,

  ‘Perhaps I’m reverting to type. You must remember my father was born here and before him his father and grandfather, going back for generations, so I’m bound to feel at home.’

  He did not seem entirely satisfied with her answer because he murmured, ‘I wonder if that’s all. It does seem as if it’s right for Don, though, which is a blessing. There’s only Linda, now. Have you any idea what she wants to do?’

  Nancy drew a sigh of relief. This was the familiar Rod, interested in her plans for her sister, willing to give his cooperation. Whatever she decided he would not tell her that she did not understand the adolescent stage.

  ‘Shall we ask her later?’ she suggested.

  ‘Good idea,’ he agreed.

  But the talk with Linda went wrong too. It took place while they were all having tea. Don and Linda had been to some sheep sales in Oban and they were talkative and excited.

  ‘And who do you think turned up while we were there?’ asked Linda.

  ‘I haven’t a clue,’ returned Nancy carelessly.

  ‘Logan, with Neil, and Neil’s mother. Nancy, did you know that she’s Anya Baron, the film actress?’

  Nancy nodded, trying to appear disinterested, although with the mention of Logan’s name her heart had begun that peculiar pounding again.

  ‘She’s absolutely fabulous,’ went on Linda. ‘But she didn’t like the sheep and complained about the smell of the animals, so they left, although Neil wanted to stay with Logan. By the way, Neil wanted to know when he could come and stay with us again. Logan explained to him that he couldn’t come to stay while you had a visitor and that seemed to satisfy him.’

  ‘Who is Neil and why should he want to stay with you?’ asked Rod.

  Linda explained and he frowned.

  ‘It’s rather strange, don’t you think, for a man in Maclaine’s position to bring his nephew to stay here. Surely he can afford to employ someone to look after the child?’

  ‘But the whole point is that Neil liked coming here ... so did Logan,’ said Linda impulsively. ‘He took us diving every week-end before you came and hardly a day passed when we didn’t see them both. Logan liked to sit in the garden.’

  ‘I’d think more of him if he’d tidied it up for you. It will soon be choked with weeds and nothing will grow,’ commented the fastidious Rod.

  ‘They’re not weeds,’ objected Nancy. ‘They’re wild flowers. And everything grows there because it’s so warm and sheltered.’

  ‘Whoever heard of a garden of wild flowers?’ scoffed Rod.

  ‘Also I’m not sure whether I approve of you going diving. Did you go, Nancy?’

  As she had suspected, he did not like the idea of her having dealings with another man, and if it hadn’t been for Linda saying too much he might never have known.

  ‘I went to mind Neil and to keep a watch on the boat while the others dived. I dived too,’ she said quietly.

  ‘But you know nothing about boats,’ objected Rod. ‘It seems to me all of you have been very ready to do anything this man Maclaine has asked you to do.’

  ‘Logan has been a very good friend to us,’ growled Linda ominously. ‘He’s helped Don enormously. Anyway, you shouldn’t pass opinions on people you haven’t met.’

  With these defiant words she flounced out of the room leaving her meal half-eaten.

  ‘She is really growing very impertinent,’ said Rod. ‘You realise, Nancy, I hope, that it’s you I’m concerned about. You have quite enough to do looking after Linda without having someone else’s child thrust upon you.’

  ‘It’s over now,’ replied Nancy soothingly, ‘I shan’t be minding Neil again now that his mother is here.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  The matter of what Linda wanted to do when she left school remained unsolved because next day to her delight she received an invitation from Meg Macrae, who was going to visit her mother who lived at Dunvegan on Skye. Knowing that Linda was interested in the castle, she told Nancy she would be pleased to take the girl with her as she would be company for the two younger Macraes.

  ‘You won’t say no, Nancy,’ Linda pleaded.

  Nancy didn’t say no. Ever since Logan had criticised her management of Linda she had tried to let the girl do more on her own. This was the first time Linda had been invited to go anywhere by another family and it was a good opportunity to let her off the leading rein in the company of someone as kind and as sensible as Meg. Also it would allow Nancy to have more uninterrupted time with Rod. Without Linda it was possible that there would be less friction and they would be able to discuss their plans for the future more constructively.

  Linda went off to Skye and a day later Rod and Nancy followed her, not to visit Dunvegan but to watch the Highland Games at Portree.

  As they drove along the road to the Kyle of Lochalsh where they would catch the ferry which would take them to the island, they discussed what they would do when Nancy returned to Dulthorpe.

  ‘I’ll take the rest of my holiday in October, so we could be married then. That will give you a month to prepare,’ stated Rod. ‘I daresay Linda could stay with your aunt while we’re on our honeymoon.’

  ’I’m sure she could,’ murmured Nancy, to whom the thought of a honeymoon with Rod seemed suddenly strange.

  ‘I hope that by then she’ll have recovered from this infatuation she’s developed for Maclaine,’ said Rod.

  Nancy was surprised. She hadn’t realised he had noticed.

  ‘I think it’s a sort of father fixation,’ she observed musingly. ‘After all, he is almost twice her age, and...’

  She stopped, appalled by what she had just said. Rod at thirty-six was twelve years older than herself. Was it possible she had been attracted to him originally because he had, in his time, represented a father figure for her?

  ‘Of course Linda is extremely romantic,’ she continued in a rush, hoping that Rod hadn’t noticed the pause. ‘That’s why Logan, with his interesting background, attracts her. She makes up all sorts of stories in which he has the part of the hero.’

  While she was speaking she had an uneasy feeling that she was using this explanation of Linda’s infatuation as much to convince herself as to convince Rod.

  ‘I suppose that I should be glad that you’re not romantic,’ commented Rod. ‘If you were I might have cause for anxiety, since Maclaine has apparently so much in his favour.’

  Sensing his irritation, Nancy did not reply. She gazed out of the window at the clouds which brooded over the mountains, and thought of all that Logan had in his favour. A lovely home, the accumulated wealth he had inherited from his father, the apparent time and ability to do anything which took his fancy and a quiet polite manner with a touch of arrogance. It was enough to attract any romantic female.

  But she wasn’t romantic, so she wasn’t attracted. For a while she and Logan had formed an odd kind of friendship based on their common concern for Neil and Linda, and on the mutual liking for an old man’s garden. She had learned that behind the polite manner there existed a person of warmth and gaiety who could be tender. Logan had tried to take the friendship further, but she had been unable to go with him because of her promise to marry Rod and so Logan had withdrawn and the friendship had ended abruptly.

  They were approaching the Kyle of Lochalsh and Nancy thrust all the disturbing thoughts about Logan away. Across the narrow strait of water she could see the ramparts of blue mountains whose summits were hidden by thin grey clouds. Soon the car was following a line of other tourist cars on to one of the British Railways car ferries which carried them over the water to Kyleakin. The road to Portree ran close to the sea, skirting by the Red Hills near Broadford and following the sea-loch Ainort inland and out again. At the head of Loch Sligachan, a deep indentation into the towering Guillin Mountains the road left the coast and followed Glen Verragill. The sun appeared and shone mistily for a while brightening the green moorl
and which sloped upwards on either side of the road, but as they approached Portree the cloud came down again.

  ‘I hope it doesn’t rain,’ grumbled Rod, as they parked the car outside the entrance to the site where the games were being held. ‘Nothing much to do here if it does, I suppose, except visit the gift shops and take tea in a hotel. We’ll go to Majorca in October and treat ourselves to some sunshine and all the best a good hotel can offer.’

  Again Nancy said nothing. So many times during the last few days she had felt irritated by everything Rod had said. She kept reminding herself that it was natural for him to behave differently when away from his home environment, that he wasn’t usually fussy and hypercritical. But deep down she was beginning to wonder whether he wasn’t always like that, only she hadn’t noticed before because she had not known anyone with whom she could compare him. ‘How do you know he’s right for you if you’ve never known anyone else?’ Logan’s words seemed to mock her because now she was comparing Rod with Logan himself.

  The Games were held as always in a natural amphitheatre outside the town. It was a perfect circle hollowed out of the rock by nature covered by green grass and sheltered by clustering trees.

  When Rod and Nancy arrived a fairly large crowd was already watching young girls dressed in bright kilts and black velvet jackets performing the sword dance to the music of the pipes. Finding a space amongst the crowd, Nancy spread her raincoat on the grass and sat down. After standing looking about him and wondering in a rather loud voice if there were any chairs to be hired. Rod sat down beside her.

  The dancing came to an end and the spectators clapped. The awards to the best dancer were made. Another group of dancers arranged themselves upon the platform, the pipes started up and the dancing started again.

  Fascinated by the intricate foot movements, dazed by the pipe music, Nancy sat unaware of Rod’s restlessness until he groaned,

  ‘Oh, not another lot! I’m going to stretch my legs.’

  She didn’t prevent him from going nor did she join him. She was too absorbed in the movement and music. The skirling of the pipes stirred her blood and she felt a strong urge to get up and dance.

  When it was over and the platform was removed she looked round for Rod, wishing that Linda was with her so that she could have shared the excitement with her. All around her the spectators were eating sandwiches and consuming soft drinks. Here and there a dancer would join a family group and would be praised for her prowess.

  Rod came back and they shared the sandwiches she had brought, although he said he would have preferred to go into the town and to have lunch at a hotel.

  ‘But we might miss something,’ said Nancy, to which he replied that if it meant missing more dancing and piping he was not adverse to going.

  There was no more dancing and the athletic competitions including the throwing of the hammer, a feat of strength and precision which created great interest in the crowd, filled the rest of the time. It was quite obvious that the crowd had its favourite throwers, some of whom were local lads and some of whom had come from other parts of Scotland to participate. One of the throwers, Nancy was informed by a loquacious spectator sitting beside her, had been in the Olympic trials and had almost qualified for selection.

  But as the afternoon wore on and the rain threatened more seriously Rod’s boredom became very noticeable. Although he always gave in to Nancy’s entreaty to stay and watch just one more competition she was very conscious of his increasing impatience. The clouds grew blacker and the rain fell more heavily. The spectators began to move towards the exit and eventually the competitors left the arena and it looked as if the Games were over for the day.

  ‘Come on, we’ll go and see if we can find a decent place to have some tea. That place back along the road with the unpronounceable name looked as if it had a first class hotel,’ said Rod urgently. ‘What a wash-out! It was a waste of time coming and now it looks as if we’re going to get soaked.’

  ‘What would we have done if we hadn’t come?’ countered Nancy. ‘You must remember there are no entertainments laid on at Lanmore that you like either. At least you’ve set foot on Skye, and you’ve seen the Cuillins.’

  ‘Have I? All I seem to have seen are heavy clouds and patches of bog,’ remarked Rod with heavy sarcasm.

  Nancy tied her headscarf firmly under her chin, put her hands in the pockets of her raincoat and trudged after him. She had looked forward to seeing the Games and she had hoped that the day alone with Rod would have held pleasure and contentment. Instead it was dreary. There was no communication between them at all. All lines were dead.

  Seeing the umbrellas and brightly coloured headscarfs in front of her through a blur of pain, she became aware of a wave of contrary movement through the crowd as if someone was trying to force a passage against the flow of people towards the exit.

  The person immediately in front of her moved to one side and there was Logan standing before her, his rain-soaked hair hanging in tails across his forehead, the collar of his damp tweed jacket turned up, his eyes wide open and intent, brilliant against the sallowness of his skin.

  ‘Have you seen Neil?’ he asked.

  There was a shock in the sudden meeting, the shock of gladness. All around her sound was muted. Other people ceased to exist.

  ‘No,’ she whispered, unable to take her eyes away from his gaze.

  ‘I’ve lost him.’

  ‘Again?’

  His mouth quirked in amused appreciation of her mocking question.

  ‘He knew you were here. We saw you arrive. I thought perhaps he’d wandered off to find you.’

  The movement and sound of people which had stopped when they met started again like a cine film when another person joined Logan—a person whose long blonde hair hung casually to her shoulders and curled slightly in the rain, and whose white and blue checked elephant pants fitted and flared in all the right places.

  ‘Who is this?’ asked the apparition in a low guttural voice with the slightest suggestion of a foreign accent.

  Two more people appeared, a big friendly-looking man who had nondescript thinning brown hair and smiling eyes, and a small rather sulky young woman who was also dressed in the height of fashion in elephant pants and a belted high-necked raincoat patterned in psychedelic colours.

  ‘This is Nancy Allan ... Anya. My sister-in-law ... Nancy,’ he said in his most polite manner.

  ‘Oh. You are Neil’s marigold lady. I am so glad to meet you. Neil is forever talking about you, and your sister ... Lin, is it?’

  The smile was charming and the attitude of pleasant interest just right.

  ‘What are you doing, Nancy?’ Rod, who must have gone on without her, had returned to find her, and he sounded impatient. ‘This is hardly a suitable time to be passing the time of day. You’ll get drenched. Come along.’

  Logan swung round to stare at him and then thrust out his right hand.

  ‘You must be Rod Ellis, Nancy’s fiancé. Faille d’on duthaich,’ he said politely. ‘I am Logan Maclaine.’

  Looking rather nonplussed, Rod shook hands and muttered, ‘How do you do.’

  Anya laughed, a low exciting sound which Nancy suddenly decided was artificial.

  ‘Don’t mind Logan,’ she purred. ‘He’s only showing off. He’s welcoming you in Gaelic, Mr. Ellis. I am pleased to meet you too. I am Anya Baron ... and this is Stan Black ... and Polly Martin.’

  Interest had chased the impatience from Rod’s face. His blue eyes sparkled and his brilliant white smile appeared.

  ‘Not Anya Baron, the actress?’ he said, and there was a mixture of awe and admiration in his voice which was not lost upon the actress.

  ‘The same,’ interposed Logan swiftly. ‘Only here she is Anya Maclaine, and my sister-in-law. And now we must find Neil.’

  No one seemed to take any notice of him as Rod, turning to Stan Black, revealed that he was not ignorant when it came to racing car designers either. A hubbub of talk and laughter began
, and the rain which still dripped down and formed puddles at their feet was ignored. Logan stood a little apart his glance roving over the amphitheatre which was now almost deserted.

  ‘Logan,’ Anya called to him, ‘Rod has a wonderful idea. Why don’t we all go and have tea at a hotel and get dry?’

  ‘We must find Neil first,’ he replied stubbornly.

  She pouted up at him, a well-known pout which drew attention to her full lower lip.

  ‘But I’m soaked, darling. Rod will take us in his car and he’s offered to take us back to Lanmore, so that we won’t have to go back in that dreadful old boat.’

  ‘I’d be only too pleased, Maclaine,’ said Rod, who was obviously enjoying himself as the rescuer of Anya Baron.

  ‘It’s the best idea to date, Logan,’ laughed Stan. ‘None of us can say that a life on the ocean wave appeals to us, can we, Polly?’

  The small sulky girl gave a wholly dramatic shudder and said,

  ‘Give me a car any time!’

  Logan shrugged his shoulders and said politely,

  ‘As you wish. I shall go back on Vagabond. I can’t leave the boat here. But first, Anya, we must find Neil. After all, he is your child.’

  ‘And your responsibility as much as mine,’ she said sweetly, putting a hand on his arm. ‘I know you wouldn’t like him to have an accident while he’s in your care ... especially when you know he is accident-prone like his father.’

  Logan’s face went white. He shook off her hand, turned on his heel and walked away, hands in his pockets, shoulders hunched.

  ‘What extraordinary behaviour!’ observed Rod into the uncomfortable silence.

  ‘You must excuse Logan,’ said Stan. ‘He’s an extraordinary character, but he always does what’s right. Let him look for the child. Am I glad we met you! It’ll be great to go back in comfort. Let’s go and have that tea we talked about.’