The Kilted Stranger

by Margaret Pargeter

  ‘You’re home early?’ She uttered the first thought to come into her head, a sudden confusion drying her lips. Cautiously she wetted them with the tip of her tongue, embarrassingly aware of his dark eyes on her mouth as she did so. Hastily, when he didn’t speak, she tacked on, ‘Have you had dinner?’

  ‘I’ve had dinner, thank you,’ His hard face closed up, inscrutable. Yet something about her naive little speech appeared to amuse him - or was it her appearance? His eyes roved slowly over her, taking their time, indifferent that they subjected her to a disconcerting scrutiny.

  The silence didn’t seem to bother him, if indeed he noticed it. His eyes probed, exploring each detail of her figure, the fine, clear outline of her face, her hair baby-fine, yet heavy, curving on to her shoulders, returning to her eyes, the beautiful clouded grey which contrasted so softly with a gardenia-pale, rose-flushed skin. He seemed bent on a minute examination, and Sue’s body tensed as a flickering flame shot through it.

  Then suddenly, as his eyes left her, swinging to the painting on the wall, she understood, and his next words confirmed her conclusions, subduing the turmoil in her heart.

  ‘No one could ever deny you are a Frazer,’ he said slowly. ‘But how much of your mother is hidden beneath the outer shell, I wonder?’

  His eyes were hard again, and his voice, following the theme, had a deeply cutting edge. A disparaging inflection.

  Why should he disapprove so of her mother? He hadn’t known her. Why then should he sit in judgment in this lordly fashion? Loyalty dies hard, even harder than affection, if Sue had stopped to consider. Instead she tumbled headlong into the trap. ‘You probably don’t mean to be insulting!’ she retorted with an angry little gasp.

  ‘Knowing the circumstances one could scarcely be anything else,’ he answered with a cool detachment which she envied. ‘When a woman denies a man his own child she can’t expect the world to judge her kindly.’

  ‘But she was only one side of it, wasn’t she? Perhaps if my father had cared enough to retain some form of contact, if ...’ Her voice tailed off weakly, her doubts and fears clearly reflected in the extreme sensitivity of her face.

  He said brusquely, his eyes unfathomable as sickness held her, ‘I shouldn’t lose any sleep over it if I were you. You could console yourself that you were too young to know anything about it. Very few of us are granted such immunity from the mistakes of others.’

  The extreme dryness of his tones taunted her. He was a mocking devil, careless that his words hurt as he jerked her body and mind alike. Her head spun as she went helplessly lax. The numbness of the last weeks had been like an anaesthetic. Now feeling returned, yet with a curious emptiness, as if the whole of her unconsciously yearned for some new experience beyond her reach.

  She stared at him, desperately frightened, not knowing if she could cope with the enormity of her reactions, knowing she must have time — if only so much. And because she knew that in some way he was irrevocably bound up with these feelings she over-reacted like a distracted child. Unwilling that he should guess that he disturbed her, she disregarded his advice with resentful stubbornness.

  Recklessly blind to the glint in his eye, she said, “You talk as though divorce and separation are irrelevant in this day and age. What, I wonder, would you have done if your wife had left you like that?’

  The glint in his eye deepened as he regarded her small defiant chin. ‘I should see to it that she never wanted to leave in the first place, but we didn’t happen to be discussing me. You missed the point at the beginning, my dear Sue. I only intended advising you against leaving Glenroden, should you entertain such an idea. I merely suspected that you might share your mother’s tendencies to run at the wrong moment, and that would never do.’

  He couldn’t actually be threatening her? Tautly her slim white fingers went to the low neck of her dress, hiding the nervous pulse at the base of her throat. ‘You mean because of my father?’

  ‘Another shock wouldn’t help him.’

  ‘Like - when I came back?’ She moved away from him then, alarmed by his cruelty, her eyes resting momentarily and blindly on her grandmother’s face, unwilling to admit the logic of what he said, waiting tensely for his reassurance.

  But none came. Only his hands came up behind her as she turned, gripping her bare arms, the steely strength of his fingers hurting. Yet he held her impersonally, as if he was shaking a dense child, his voice terse in her ear. ‘If you like. But for heaven’s sake don’t torture yourself, girl. It’s just not the time for soft words, if that’s what you’re wanting.’

  For a moment her lips parted wordlessly as, while mind tussled with body, she slumped back against him. Then, with an almost frantic effort, she wrenched herself free, whirling to face him, the imprints of his fingers red on her upper arms. ‘I just wouldn’t expect any kindness from you, Mr. Findlay. Why should I? And you might be my father’s manager, but you certainly aren’t mine! Whether I go or stay is none of your business. Please remember that!’ Furiously Sue heard her own voice, slurred and choked with emotion as she almost ran from the room. With a little more dignity she might have given the impression that she had had the last word, but not now.

  It seemed equally perplexing that she should feel curiously restless and unsettled during the next few days. So much so that Mrs. Lennox noticed and advised her to go out for a change.

  ‘I’ll pack you a few sandwiches, dear. You can take your car and explore, then have your lunch. If you keep to the road you can’t go wrong. You could go to the loch and the air will do you good, bring a little colour back into your cheeks.’

  She had promised to keep an eye on John, but it was reluctantly that Sue went. Although he was now getting up daily, Doctor McRoberts had warned her not to let him do anything, just gentle exercise around the house. Today he had seemed tired and said that he would stay in bed. So at least, Sue thought wryly, as she reversed her Mini from the garage, she knew where he was.

  Once out on the road she felt her spirits lifting and was glad she had taken Mrs. Lennox’s advice. She hadn’t realized it would be so good to be out. A still autumn silence lay over the moors, broken now and then by the abrupt firing of distant guns. John had told her only that morning that Meric took shooting parties out two or three days a week at this time of the year. Sue had been surprised until he explained in detail.

  ‘It used to be my thing,’ he had smiled wistfully. ‘I stopped holding shooting parties myself some years ago, but we have an arrangement with the hotel in the village. We provide the shoot, and they provide the shooters. It involves quite a bit of hard work, taking everything into account. I don’t know how long Meric can keep it up, but it certainly helps, financially.’

  ‘How long has he been with you?’ She hadn’t meant to ask, but since that night in the drawing-room Meric Findlay had never been far from her thoughts, even if, as she tried to persuade herself, it was only because of his questionable activities.

  John had glanced at her quickly, as if he found the wording of her question curious, but all he said was, ‘About ten years. He came here in his middle twenties, and had a lot to learn. We sort of helped each other, if you know what I mean. His father died in South Africa, so he had no one else.’

  Sue didn’t know exactly what he meant. She was fast learning, however, that when asked to be more explicit he often recoiled into a sort of shell from which it was difficult to prise any explanation. Instead she had concentrated on the South African bit, sudden interest surging through her. But before there had been time to say anything Mrs. Lennox came in, and she had decided to leave it. It would keep until another day.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  DETERMINED not to dwell any longer on that which worried her, Sue concentrated on finding the loch. Mrs. Lennox was a trained nurse; her father would be in good hands. Yet in spite of her former resolutions Sue frowned. Was it natural at her age to find all illness tedious? Secretly she was ashamed to admit it. Her mother’s attacks of migrai
ne, whenever anything upset her, had been trials to be endured, involving as they had done long periods when the slightest noise had been taboo, when even the sound of Sue’s transistor turned low had been forbidden. It didn’t help much to remember how her occasional resentment had usually propelled her to her mother’s side with extra assurances of sympathy. If Sue had ever thought of a father, he had always been a particularly robust figure. While John Frazer pleased her intellectually, his frailness, due to his heart condition, dismayed her. And again, as with her mother, a guilty conscience plagued her unmercifully.

  With little difficulty Sue found her way, back over the river ford, taking the right-hand fork instead of the left which would only take her to the village. The Mini was going well. Woman-like, she had worried that there wasn’t enough petrol, but the tank she could see was half full and she recalled filling it up after she had left Edinburgh. The weather was good today, and the countryside enticing, and on the road the dark-eyed sheep scattered before the car. Huge boulders dotted the landscape with hidden crevasses, while rough grass and heather encircled bare slabs of rock. Ideal spots for a dry picnic, she noted as she drove on, not really keen to stop until she reached the loch.

  She was not really surprised to pass several cars. After all, it was the tourist season. She remembered that first day and all the people in the village shop. Even so, these roads were deserted compared with similar roads in the south. The south ... Suddenly she wondered if she would ever go back. Did she really want to? It might not be altogether easy to stay here. It would be foolish to think so. She would have to make new friends, eventually find a job - she couldn’t just wander around Glenroden for the remainder of her days.: Her heart gave a downward jolt. If Meric were to marry Carlotte Craig she might not be able to stay here at all.

  Then, around the next bend, without warning she came upon the caravan site. Protected, and almost hidden, by a screen of birch and conifers, it stood well above the loch on a flat green plateau, but within easy reach of the lapping water. Startled, Sue pulled off the road on to a wedge of tarmac, and stared. It was one of the nicest parks she had seen, yet a niggling resentment bothered her. It seemed an intrusion on her privacy. All around the mountains and wild, lonely places were at their best, basking in early autumn sunshine, and here was the very thing she had hoped to escape from - crowds of people!

  Driven by some inner compulsion, not because of inclination, Sue left her car to walk down the wide track between the vans. She saw a notice which said clearly: Glenroden Caravan Site. No vacancies. She didn’t attach any particular significance to it. It was only when she saw Carlotte coming around the corner of one of the caravans that suspicion began to grow.

  Carlotte stopped, obviously as surprised as Sue. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’ she asked, her eyes wary.

  ‘Having a look around,’ Sue stated, none the less bluntly. Which wasn’t quite what she had had in mind, but Carlotte shouldn’t ask silly questions. Besides, why should Carlotte act as if she owned the place? Surely - the thought struck Sue from out of space - surely she didn’t live here? Suddenly she realized she had no idea where Carlotte lived. She had imagined in the village.

  ‘I’ll show you around, if you like?’ Smoothly, a cat with the cream smile on her face, Carlotte waved a magnanimous hand towards the park, taking

  little notice of Sue’s raised eyebrows.

  ‘Show me around?’ Deviously Sue sought to satisfy her curiosity. ‘Why should you do that?’

  Too easily Carlotte saw through her. ‘If you mean, do I live here, or own the place, then the answer is no. It belongs to Glenroden.’

  ‘You mean, the estate?’ As she asked Sue flushed hotly. She hated having to persist. Why had no one told her?

  It didn’t help that Carlotte nodded her sleek dark head, her stare superior. ‘It seems there’s a lot of things you don’t know about. I wonder why?’ While her words were innocent enough her tone was mocking. ‘The woman who usually sees to the office is away for a few days, so Meric asked me if I would help out.’ Her tone, shifting slightly, implied much more than that.

  Slowly Sue froze. Unpredictably her heart lurched downwards again. The two of them, in it together! What did they need with a caravan site at Glenroden? Surely an estate of this size needn’t resort to this? ‘My father didn’t mention it,’ she replied stiffly. ‘But then he’s ill, and I don’t see a great deal of Mr. Findlay.’

  No sooner was it out than Sue regretted the last bit of information. A smug smile spread over Carlotte’s mouth. ‘Meric wouldn’t wish to discuss these things with you,’ she said, ‘especially as you’re a stranger. He doesn’t think you’ll stay long, not after John’s better, so he would only be wasting his time. ’

  With difficulty Sue restrained a biting retort. Carlotte might be speaking the truth - she wouldn’t put remarks like that past Meric Findlay - but she was obviously baiting her. She must refuse to be antagonized. Then she might find out what was going on. She bit her lip sharply, then releasing it, smiled. ‘I think I would like to see around if you don’t mind. Now that I’m here.’

  The next hour she spent with Carlotte, walking around the park. It was a good one; she soon realized that. Every mod. con., even a small shop where, as Carlotte explained, such necessities as milk, bacon and eggs were sold. ‘Other items can be bought at the village shop,’ she told Sue, ‘This site has helped them quite a lot.’

  The caravans were all occupied, she added, as people liked it, and its reputation in the last two years had spread.

  And the holiday season now stretched well into the autumn. In fact this was fast becoming the most popular time of the year.

  Their tour over, she invited Sue quite cordially into her office for coffee. Sue thanked her and accepted, feeling it would be churlish to refuse after the time Carlotte had spent with her. Carlotte, she thought wryly, would have made a good courier for a travel agent. She appeared to excel at this sort of thing. If she was trying to demonstrate her usefulness to Meric, then she had certainly succeeded.

  The office was small and well equipped. Carlotte eased her elegant, trouser-suited figure into a comfortable chair behind the desk, waving Sue to the seat opposite. ‘Another woman will be along in an hour or two to release me,’ she said. ‘The busiest times are early morning and after tea, when new people arrive. Meric doesn’t expect me to cope with those.’ Which could mean many things, Sue grimaced cynically, a short time later, as she drove away. Either Carlotte wasn’t as competent as she appeared to be, or Meric Findlay was over-solicitous for his lady-love. She went on, around the loch where she stopped to eat her lunch in the middle of the afternoon, but somehow, for some inexplicable reason, she hadn’t the heart to explore further.

  ‘I’ve had quite a nice day, though,’ she assured Mrs. Lennox, who looked at her searchingly, obviously puzzled by her early return, ‘I’ll take tea in if you like, then you can get away. Perhaps I remembered that you need time off as well as I do.’

  Picking up the already prepared tray, she went along to her father’s room, resisting an impulse to ask Mrs. Lennox about the caravan park, afraid that she might get another answer such as Carlotte had given her. It might be better to tackle Meric Findlay himself, when she next saw him.

  Then, with a start of surprise, as she opened John Frazer’s door she found Meric with him. As she entered he rose, he took the tray from her and placed it smoothly on a small table by the fire before turning, his eyes narrowed on her suddenly flushed face. ‘I believe you’ve been out?’

  And he wanted to know where she’d been - if she interpreted his tone of voice correctly. Well, his curiosity could remain unsatisfied for a few minutes. She smiled briefly at her father before answering with a question of her own, ‘You’re back early. Where is your shoot?’

  ‘In the capable hands of my second in command. I hope.’ His voice was light and taunting, as if he guessed her intention to procrastinate and was willing to go along with it - so far. ‘When I lef
t they were almost through, and will probably be back at the hotel by this time. ’

  ‘You can obviously dispense with your duties lightly, Mr. Findlay.’ With uncontrollable antagonism she gave him back look for look. Their eyes clashed, his a shade dangerous, hers glittering like sparkling ice.

  ‘I think,’ he said, hard and deliberate, ‘that wherever you’ve been the air hasn’t agreed with you, Miss Frazer. But I’m sure your father would appreciate his tea more than your temper!’

  Mortified for a moment, her hands clenched tight, Sue glanced towards the bed, relieved to see John leaning close to the radio and Gardener’s Question Time. Her head came up proudly as a faint remorse left her. Someone had to put this man in his place. Her father apparently couldn’t care less. She moved away blindly to the fireplace and started pouring tea, her lashes dark fans against her cheeks.

  Meric said nothing for a long moment as she attended to her father, but his silence offered no comfort, totally more threatening than mere words. As she passed him a cup - Mrs. Lennox always put a spare one on the tray - she flicked him one apprehensive glance, then just as quickly looked away. Today he wore his usual kilt and tweed jacket. Beneath this he wore a tan shirt and a plain tie, and at his waist, hanging from a strap and chain, was a brown leather sporran. A sporran, she knew, was necessary because a kilt has no pockets. Stockings he wore of tan wool, with garter flashes, plus heavy brogues. In the top of his right stocking she noted a horn-handled knife in a scabbard. His knees were vagrantly exposed. He looked hard and handsome, not willing to concede an inch.

  Her stormy eyes flashed over his wickedly sardonic mouth and she bit nervously into a cucumber sandwich. ‘When I was out,’ she announced sharply, ‘I discovered, quite by chance, a caravan park down by the loch. Carlotte kindly showed me around.’

  There! At last it was out, laced, in spite of herself with angry reproach, and as she said Carlotte’s name, an upsurge of unfamiliar jealousy. Immediately she felt Meric’s quick glance, her father’s slightly disturbed one. It was her father who spoke, with faint agitation. ‘I’ve been ill, Susan. These things slip my memory.’