The Kilted Stranger

by Margaret Pargeter

  ‘Glenroden?’ the middle-aged woman behind the counter exclaimed, in answer to Sue’s rather anxious query. The shop was full, surprisingly full, Sue thought, considering the loneliness of the surrounding country, and she felt her cheeks go slightly pink as a dozen pair of eyes turned towards her curiously.

  ‘You’ll be wanting John Frazer,’ the woman went on as Sue nodded awkwardly. ‘Or maybe ...’

  Another woman nearby interrupted eagerly, ‘I believe Mr. Frazer has hurt his ankle. My neighbour next door was telling me only this morning. He’s turned it on the heather, so you should be finding him at home.’

  Sue didn’t answer but stood there silently as the two women, between them, supplied the information she needed.

  ‘Straight on for two miles, then twice right and twice left. You couldn’t miss it.’

  ‘There are two houses, a big one and the other smaller. John Frazer lives in the small one.’ The woman behind the counter glanced at Sue with a frown as she went on serving her customers. ‘I seem to think I’ve seen you somewhere before,’ she added, as she finished speaking.

  ‘I hardly think so,’ Sue replied, trying to smile as she thanked each woman for her help. Nervously she retreated to the tinkling door. ‘I haven’t been here before, so it doesn’t seem likely.’

  With a final nod she let herself out, almost running to her car, shock stinging sharply through her. She had come here looking for this man called Frazer, but to find him had crushed a slender, scarcely formulated hope that he wouldn’t exist. Desperately she resisted an impulse to turn and go back home, knowing that she must refuse to pander to her somewhat cowardly inclinations. She started like a sleepwalker rudely awakened, knowing that there was one thing she must do. Any other course would

  allow her no future peace of mind.

  Automatically her hand went out to the ignition, the sudden noise and thrust of the engine as she turned the switch jerking her back to reality. How foolish she was to sit here shaking like a leaf. All she had to do was to drive up to Glenroden, deliver the letter, then leave. Probably it could all be achieved in less than an hour, a case of simple mathematics, nothing to get in such a dither about, nor anything to justify such a predominating sense of disaster. Determinedly she straightened, brushing her fair hair back from her forehead with still shaking fingers, and drove on.

  Contrary to what she had expected Sue found Glenroden quite easily. If anything her only difficulty lay in the road which twisted and turned crazily until she almost felt ill. At one spot she had to cross a ford, where a river ran over the road, and as the water surged strongly against her wheels she knew a moment of apprehension. In full flood she imagined this particular stretch of road could be dangerous to the uninitiated, and she couldn’t deny a flicker of relief when she arrived safely on the other side. It would have seemed rather incongruous to have come all this way to get stuck in the middle of a stream - or should she call it a burn? It probably wouldn’t matter what she called it, she thought wryly. She wouldn’t be here long enough.

  The river, she saw, ran into a loch which lay heavy and grey in the distance beneath the gathering clouds. Then a stretch of young conifers cut it from her view and she didn’t see it again. She took the last left-hand turn, followed the river back up the glen, and found the houses she looked for half an hour later almost hidden in a circling forest of old pines.

  Sue’s foot jerked swiftly to the brake as she nearly missed the road end. Caught unawares, she changed gear noisily, without her usual skill, as she concentrated keenly on the glimpse of buildings through the trees. The Mini stopped dead, half tilted on the heathery verge as she turned the steering wheel too quickly.

  ‘Damn!’ She spoke aloud, but with resignation as she rested her arms momentarily in front of her. It was several seconds before she became aware of the man who stood on a rocky crag some distance away from her. It must have been a high outcrop as he stood out against the forest trees. With a sharply indrawn breath she took in the picture - a modern Turner, creating a complex scene of high drama! A vivid impression, as the great artist often gave, of energy and violence contained in controlled action, as

  primitive as the mountains themselves.

  Although she couldn’t make out the man’s features, she seemed to feel his gaze upon her from his lofty vantage point. No doubt he had heard her bad change and, from his pinnacle, was pronouncing judgement. Oh, well... Quickly Sue looked away. What could it matter? Strangers were probably few and far between in these parts, but if he had nothing else to do then she had. Reversing off the grass, she corrected her steering and drove on. She didn’t look again up to the crag.

  From the moment when she drew up in front of the smaller house Sue knew that everything was going to be different. She couldn’t have explained why, but she had the strangest feeling that she was coming home. The feeling persisted as she walked nervously across the wide stretch of rather unkempt grass which lay between the cottage and the long tarred drive. One wouldn’t really call it more than a cottage, she decided, regarding it speculatively as she drew nearer. Maybe this Mr. Frazer was a ghillie or something like that. Certainly the house about a hundred yards further on amongst the trees seemed quite imposing. She wasn’t able to see it clearly, but it did appear to be a dwelling of some size.

  The door of the cottage stood ajar, something for which Sue felt immediately grateful if only because it confirmed her hopes that Mr. Frazer was at home. Tentatively, not allowing herself time to procrastinate, she knocked, but was unable to restrain a quiver of uncertainty when there was no reply. She tried again, with the same result. Then carefully, not knowing quite what to do, she gently pushed open the door and went inside.

  The door opened on to a square hall, not large but beautifully panelled in a warm, dark oak. Apart from a length of Persian carpet there was no furniture, only a narrow oak stair going up from the far corner. The door on her right was closed, but the one on her left was half open, and even as she stared, still hesitant, she saw it open wide, and a man stood there.

  It must be John Frazer. Sue’s eyes went down curiously to his foot. He hobbled, leaning on a stick. Then suddenly, with a small gasp, her eyes went back to his face, drawn there by something beyond her control, some inner conviction that she should know this man, but did not. She couldn’t remember ever seeing him before.

  His grey eyes were no less riveted than her own, and before she could speak he asked harshly, ‘Who are you?’

  His sharp direct question jerked Sue back to reality, but she was still bewildered by her own reactions. In front of her she saw a tall man whose hair was liberally streaked with grey. Fair hair, and grey eyes very like her own. Very like her own! Tenaciously the thought seemed to churn through Sue’s brain as she stared, startled.

  ‘Who are you?’ the man repeated, seemingly as startled as herself, but determined also to discover her name.

  For no reason that she could think of her voice faltered as she told him, unable to avoid the issue any longer, ‘I’m sorry ... I should have told you. My name is Granger, Susan Granger. Mostly my friends call me Sue.’

  She was not prepared for the obviously traumatic effect of her disclosure. His face went pale and his military bearding suddenly slumped, although his eyes never left her face. For a moment Sue thought he was going to fall, but as she stepped hastily to his side he waved her away. ‘I’m all right,’ he muttered gruffly. ‘I damaged my ankle - nothing to make a fuss about. You must come in.’

  Jerking out a few more stilted sentences, he turned, and she followed him across the soft blue carpet into a lounge. Unlike the hall, it was an extremely cluttered room with books and newspapers scattered everywhere, but the fact scarcely registered as she paused with him beside the open window where he continued to scrutinize her closely.

  Sue stirred uneasily beneath his keen regard. ‘I’m looking for a Mr. Frazer. A Mr. John Frazer,’ she added nervously as the silence stretched. ‘I have a letter for him - from my mo
ther. Do you happen to be this man?’

  He nodded, shock spreading with disbelief across his face, filling Sue with a confused alarm. ‘Does your mother happen to be Helen Granger?’ he asked, his voice odd.

  Sue nodded uncertainly. ‘She was.’

  ‘Was?’ John Frazer reiterated tensely. ‘Do you mean what I think you mean?’

  Again Sue nodded, not wishing to put it into words. She was not really surprised when he said, tonelessly, ‘She was also my wife.’

  But it wasn’t until he actually said so that total comprehension struck. Shock flooded through her. She stood gazing at him, anguish darkening her eyes to smoky grey, her cheeks white. Was this man her father? Their likeness might be quite incidental. How could she possibly ask?

  Seemingly as shocked as she was, he seemed about to say something, then changed his mind. His hand moved to her arm gently and he drew her over to the fire. ‘You’d better sit down, my dear,’ he said quietly, obviously taking a grip of himself. ‘Before we go any further you’d better give me that letter, but I know now before I read it that you’re my daughter. With your looks you couldn’t possibly be anyone else.’ Numbly Sue sat in the chair opposite him in a cloud of bewilderment. Scarcely daring to look at him, she did as she was told. Finding the letter, she handed it over, some part of her mind resolving never to have it back. In retrospect Tim’s warning came loud and clear. But how could she have known what she was letting herself in for? That John Frazer could possibly be her father! Just as he did, she knew beyond doubt, before the additional proof of written evidence, that he was. Rather furtively she glanced at him as he sat reading. He was tall and thin, rather frail, but over-all he looked nice, just the sort of man she had often imagined her father would be. Why, oh, why, she wondered desperately, had her mother never told her? It seemed incredible that anyone could have practised such a cruel deception or even succeeded in keeping such a thing to herself!

  As for her father’s part in the drama, she couldn’t begin to guess. There were so many things she didn’t understand. Perhaps it would be better not to try. Maybe he would try to explain after he had finished reading.

  Almost as if he anticipated her thoughts John Frazer raised his head and, after another cursory glance at the letter in his hand, folded it and handed it to her carefully. ‘I don’t know that I should let you read it, Susan, but it might tell you a few of the things you’ll have to know. Between us, your mother and I, we don’t seem to have succeeded very well as parents.’

  His tone was stilted as if the contents of the letter had jolted him considerably, and his face appeared drained of all colour. Momentarily Sue averted her eyes, unable to suppress the feeling that she was viewing some private bitterness, a grief which she couldn’t share. Attempting to suppress her own considerable apprehension, she stared at the pages she was clutching, her eyes clinging reluctantly to the closely written sheets.

  She read: For a long time, John, I’ve had a feeling that something is about to happen. If my intuition is correct, and it has never let me down in the past, then Susan will be left on her own. So I am sending you your daughter. If you have any doubts you have only to look at your ridiculous collection of family paintings to see who she is. I left you, John, because I never loved you, although I did try occasionally, you must admit. Glenroden was not for me, you must also admit this. And when I realized that Susan was on the way I knew I must escape. If I hadn’t gone then you would never have let me go, not with a daughter or possibly a son in the offing. It was a big decision to make, but I have never regretted it.

  I won’t need my allowance any more, John, because if you ever read this I shall be dead. But perhaps you will keep an eye on Susan for me and, if necessary, give her a home. I’m afraid I’ve never been able to give her the affection she should have had. Perhaps you can supply that too...

  There was more, none of which made much sense. Sue felt too disorganized to try and sort it out. The pages dropped from her nerveless fingers as emotion curled and unfurled inside her. The last thing she had expected to learn when she came here was that she had a father, a man who was still very much alive, contrary to what her mother had led her to believe. The news seemed more than she could assimilate immediately on top of all she had been through. She couldn’t even begin to gauge the depth of her father’s distress. This would probably turn his world upside down. After all, he had apparently been no more aware of her existence than she had of his. In a way - Sue put a shaking hand over her mouth, quelling slightly hysterical laughter - it all seemed too melodramatic to be true!

  As if sensing her need for reassurance John Frazer said tautly, ‘It might be easier, Susan, if we started at the beginning. You must understand that my surprise is as great as yours. Only I’m older, I don’t shock so easily, but I must admit this seems to have rather knocked me sideways.’

  Sue glanced at him a little desperately. ‘If you like I’ll go. You can’t surely want me after all this time. I’m not quite sure myself,’ she added with a sudden flicker of indignation, ‘that I want to stay. ’

  ‘We can talk about that later,’ he suggested with a faint smile. But his voice was firmer, and held just a thin thread of parental authority, even while his eyes stayed anxiously on her distraught face. ‘I think it might be a good idea if we went through this quickly. Just the relevant facts. We can always come back to it another day.’

  Recognizing the overruling feasibility of what he said, Sue shrank back into her chair, waiting submissively. His struggle to find the right words was clearly indicated by the way a frown deepened on his already lined forehead. For the first time since she had arrived she forgot her own problems to dwell for a moment on the magnitude of his, finding her heart soften suddenly at the look of extreme weariness on his face.

  He rose, with some difficulty because of his ankle, and as if seeking inspiration stood with his back to the fire, thrusting the hand which was not holding his stick deep into the pocket of his tweed trousers. ‘Your mother and I married, Susan, while I was in the Army. I was a second son and the Army was my career. Your mother loved the life, moving from place to place. My leaves were mostly spent in London, or abroad if we happened to be there. In those days she only came to Glenroden once, when your grandmother was alive. She didn’t take to Glenroden or my mother. But I don’t suppose she told you anything of this?’

  Silently Sue shook her head, wholly absorbed, waiting for him to continue.

  ‘I suppose I should have been warned, but I couldn’t foresee that my brother would go before me. There was nothing I could do but come home. It seemed inevitable. Someone had to look after the estate. ’

  ‘Didn’t Mother come with you?’ Sue dared to ask as he paused.

  He nodded his greying head. ‘Yes, but she left after a short time, went to live with her mother. After her mother died she came back - I don’t know why, as I hadn’t been able to persuade her to before this. Anyway, we decided to try again, but again it didn’t seem to work out. That last time I followed her we had one almighty row. After that I gave up. I did arrange to pay her a monthly allowance, but the last time I tried to contact her at her old home I found that she’d sold up and moved away. She never let me know where she had gone. ’

  ‘Didn’t you ever want a divorce?’

  ‘No. I did suggest it that last time, but she didn’t appear to have that in mind. Or maybe,’ his glance narrowed reflectively, ‘it could have been because of you. As she said in that letter, if I’d known about you, things would have been entirely different. As it was,’ his voice sharpened with bitterness, ‘it should have occurred to me, Now it must be over twenty years too late!’

  ‘About that,’ she whispered, as he studied her soft young features darkly. ‘Perhaps I shouldn’t say this, but I don’t think that my mother really loved me all that much. This makes what you’ve told me all the more confusing. ’

  ‘Your mother was inclined to be self-centred, Susan, and possessive. I suppose we all are to so
me extent - I don’t want to start a slanging match, particularly now that she’s gone. If it helps at all your fault probably lay in your looking too much like my side of the family. You are, in fact,

  almost an exact replica of my own mother, and every time she looked at you she must have seen it. I don’t think we must blame her too much if she resented what she saw. ’

  Inadvertently Sue’s thoughts flew to Tim, remembering his cynical observations. Quickly, to blot out the image, she asked nervously, ‘Didn’t you ever consider selling the estate?’

  Visibly he started and she was curious to see a faint flush of colour mount his pale cheeks, a sudden wariness in the grey depth of his eyes. ‘Estates aren’t sold just like that, Susan. This estate wasn’t entailed, but it was some years before even my brother’s affairs were settled up. And then death duties took a fair proportion of it.’

  His voice was steady, and the tenseness in his face had gone. She might even have imagined it. She hadn’t meant to seem curious about his property, but it might prove difficult to tell him that she didn’t want to talk about her mother any more. Later, perhaps, when she and her father knew each other better. Privately she acknowledged that there was still a lot to explain. He would want more details about her mother’s accident, about the letter. He himself would have to confirm that the mysterious insurance had really been her mother’s allowance. Relevant details would have to be sent to London, but not now. It seemed enough that she was here, and that this man was willing to accept her beyond any doubt as his daughter. A new emotion, bewildering in its intensity, flooded into Sue’s heart. She didn’t pause to consider that to many it might seem strange that subconsciously she was already thinking of Glenroden as home.

  As if he followed and agreed with her train of thought a warm smile curved John Frazer’s rather set mouth for the first time as his eyes rested, with a dawning credulity, on Sue’s tense face. Before she could try to explain her feelings, he said softly, ‘Why try to do it all at once, Susan? Willy-nilly we seem to have an unusual situation, and it might be better to get to know each other gradually, although fundamentally I think we both know that the ingredients for a good relationship are there. Certainly it’s a rather wonderful feeling to know that I’ve a daughter. One can forgive much for such a privilege. I only hope, my dear, that you won’t share your mother’s dislike for the wilds of Scotland, as I shall certainly expect you to make your home here.’