by Flora Kidd
‘Yes, I am,’ she agreed. ‘Although now I’ve seen the house I realise a great deal of restoration is needed if it’s to be preserved.’
Craig glanced sharply at her.
‘You’ve seen it? How did you manage that?’
‘Ross Lorimer took me to see it.’
‘What on earth made you go with him?’ Craig sounded irritated.
‘He invited me. He was staying with us. He used to go fishing with my father, you know.’
‘Yes, I know. In fact I know a lot about Lorimer.’
Craig’s voice was harsh and Sally looked at him in surprise. His mouth was shut grimly and his dark eyebrows were pulled together in a frown. A long thin nose, dark hair growing to a peak on his forehead. A weasel—the description flashed into Sally’s mind and she saw Craig with Ross’s eyes.
As she went down the stairs she was conscious that one of the new shoes she was wearing had rubbed her heel during the day and that a blister had formed. It had probably happened when she had been walking home for her lunch and back again to work. Now it made her limp as she crossed the entrance hall and pushed through the heavy door of the Town Hall and out into the sunshine.
As they walked towards the harbour between the high gabled buildings the limp slowed Sally’s usual swift swinging gait to a halting hobble. If Craig noticed he made no comment, being more intent in talking about Winterston.
‘You know, I suppose, that the house is scheduled to be destroyed?’ he said.
‘Yes, Ross told me. But he said that the Fine Arts Commission could still step in and save it.’
‘That’s what I’m hoping will happen. I haven’t given up the fight to save it yet ... and now that I know Lorimer is on the job I’m even more enthusiastic about the struggle to preserve it.’
‘Why, do you have any influence with the Commission?’
‘Yes, I’m glad to say. Also I have the job of making sure that the contractors fulfil their obligations and don’t disfigure the area. Lorimer and I have already had a few disagreements about what constitutes disfigurement. However, I think I made my position clear and that he’ll watch his step in future.’
Sally glanced at him again. He was smiling, that slight secretive smile as if he was very pleased about the outcome of his argument with Ross.
‘What will happen if he doesn’t?’ she asked.
‘My department will lodge a complaint about him to his company. Enough complaints and he’ll be removed. Already he’s been unnecessarily destructive and has blasted away some rock on the roadway to make way, he said, for some of the equipment. You’ll know where I mean.’
Sally knew. It would be the rugged bastion of purple granite which jutted out into the roadway near the gate to the estate.
‘You should see it now,’ Craig continued. ‘A lovely silver birch uprooted and cast aside. Rock blasted and splintered. Wild flowers wilted and dying. The gates torn off and the stone gateposts knocked down. Great wheel tracks gouged in the grass by the side of the driveway. In fact everything that we’d hoped to avoid.’
They had reached the end of the street and the harbour was before them, cluttered with fishing boats unloading their catch, noisy with circling gulls.
Shocked by Craig’s description, Sally burst out,
‘Oh, how could he do it!’ And she surprised herself by being more concerned that it was Ross who was responsible for such destruction than she was about the splintered rock and the uprooted tree.
‘Ha!’ Craig’s laugh was short and mirthless. ‘Don’t you know that Lorimer is capable of violence to achieve his ends?’
‘Why do you dislike him so much?’ asked Sally shrewdly, and Craig shot a wary glance in her direction.
‘I’ve never liked his methods. There was a time when he used physical violence against me ... quite unjustly.’
They had crossed the road to the parking place beside the harbour wall in front of the MacKinnon Arms and were standing beside Craig’s green sports car. Craig looked at Sally properly for the first time since they had met. He looked at her consideringly, almost assessingly, then looked away.
‘Perhaps I ought to warn you about him,’ he said. “You probably don’t remember what he was like when he used to live here. He had quite a reputation ... your sister ...’
‘I remember. I know all about Maeve and Ross,’ interrupted Sally, suddenly irritated by his remark. ‘And I don’t think you need be anxious on my behalf. I’m not entirely naive. And you seem to have forgotten about this.’
She touched the scar on her cheek. He glanced briefly at it, winced visibly and turned his attention to the fishing boats.
‘I still think you should be on your guard. I’ll be passing through Portbride frequently during the next few months on my way to the site. Perhaps we could meet after work sometimes?’
A swiftly driven Land-Rover roared past them and parked a few yards away. It was yellow and had black lettering on its doors and was easily recognisable as one of the vehicles belonging to the site.
Sally stared at Craig and felt she was seeing him as he really was for the first time.
‘No, thank you,’ she replied clearly.
He looked surprised.
‘We could go for a drive ... have dinner together.’
‘No!’ The word came out sharply.
‘I’m sorry, I forgot you don’t care to drive any more.’
‘You needn’t be sorry, Craig. Nor need you make the effort to invite me to go out with you. I know you don’t really want to take me out or be seen with me.’
Craig opened the door of his car and got into the driver’s seat.
‘Well, if that’s how you feel ...’ he began embarrassedly.
‘That’s how I feel,’ repeated Sally. ‘Goodbye.’
He looked up at her, puzzlement and a glimmer of something else which might have been dawning interest in his narrow eyes, then shook his head slowly from side to side.
‘Not goodbye, Sally,’ he said. ‘I expect I shall see you again.’
He drove off and Sally watched him go with a feeling of relief. She had met Craig and there had been no spark between them at all. He meant nothing to her, and she meant nothing, she was quite sure, to him.
She turned and leaned on the wall. She was late for supper and Aunt Jessie would be fussing, but she felt she must be alone for a few minutes to enjoy the feeling of relief.
The summer evening was sunny and clear. Against the blue of the sky the green of the hills was vivid. In the harbour the white hull of an elegant visiting yacht was stark against the dark harbour wall and the still water reflected the shapely lines of bow and stern which contrasted sharply with the massive bulks of the varnished fishing boats. The creaking sound of the small derricks lifting the catches from the holds of the boats were background noise to the shouts of the fishermen and the cry of the wheeling gulls.
The Town Hall clock struck quarter past six and Sally moved, wincing as her shoe rubbed on the forgotten blister. As she limped past the parked Land-Rover she recognised one of the men standing beside it, in spite of the fact that he was wearing a yellow construction hat pushed back on his head. In shirt-sleeves, his jacket slung over one shoulder, Ross leaned indolently against the vehicle talking to a young man who was also wearing a yellow helmet.
Sally hobbled past, hoping she wouldn’t be seen. But her lurching movement drew their attention and Ross’s voice, clear and decisive, called out,
‘Hello there, Sally! I haven’t seen you for some time. Have you been avoiding me? Or have you just been hiding?’ He was infuriating! Why did he have to say that in front of a third party?
She had to stop because he was advancing towards her, accompanied by the other man who removed his helmet politely to reveal close-cropped curly brown hair and who looked at her curiously with pansy brown eyes set between the longest lashes she had ever seen. She wanted to raise her hand to her cheek to hide the scar from his gaze, but Ross’s presence prevented her from d
oing so.
‘Sally, I’d like you to meet Mike Searle. He’s in charge of equipment and is deputy site manager. This is Sally Johnson, Mike, a young enemy of mine.’
Sally flashed an annoyed glance in his direction and encountered amused blue eyes which were very blue today, their colour accentuated by the blue shirt he was wearing. After Craig, Ross seemed very big, rather untidy and very tough.
She nodded shyly at Mike, who held out his hand and said,
‘Pleased to meet you, Sally. You must have been hiding, because I haven’t seen you around.’
His voice was soft and his smile was gentle, and responding to the warmth of his greeting she smiled back.
‘I have to hurry now,’ he continued regretfully, ‘because I have to go back to the site as soon as I’ve eaten. Maybe I’ll see you again?’
‘You will,’ said Ross assertively. ‘She works in the Town Hall, and lives in that white house you can see over there.’ He pointed at Rosemount, whose grey roof and upper dormer windows were just visible above the bushes which screened the rock of the ridge. ‘Her father owns the fishing boat Mary Rose and she attends the Saturday night dances held in the Town Hall. Is there anything else you’d like to know?’
Mike grinned amiably at him.
‘Not now ... I’ll find out the rest from Sally herself some time when she’s free. Cheerio for now, Sally.’
He hurried off in the direction of the hotel. Ignoring Ross, Sally began to walk away, still limping. To her annoyance he strolled beside her, his jacket still slung over his shoulder.
‘Why are you limping?’ he asked.
‘I have a blister on my heel,’ she replied coolly.
‘What’s caused it?’
‘New shoes.’
Sally wanted to laugh. The mundane questions and answers seemed totally unrelated to the tension which had built up between them since he had called out to her.
‘Was that your friend Dawson I saw talking to you?’
‘Yes.’
‘It’s a pity he couldn’t have given you a lift home.’
There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice as if he didn’t think very highly of Craig, and contrarily Sally sprang to Craig’s defence.
‘I didn’t expect him to give me a lift. He knows I don’t ride in cars any more.’
Steel-like fingers gripped her arm and she was spun round as if she was a puppet to face him.
“You mean to tell me you haven’t been in a car since that crash?’ he barked.
She nodded and tried to free her arm.
‘I suppose no one has possessed sufficient brutality to make you go,’ he jeered. ‘It was the first thing you should have done after you’d recovered from your injuries. If a horse had thrown you, you’d have been made to mount it again so as not to lose your nerve. Same thing applies to car crashes ... at least it does in my opinion. No wonder you’re a bundle of nerves, you spoiled little brat!’
That final remark brought her head up. His unswerving blue gaze almost demoralised her, but she faced it defiantly and said,
‘I’m not spoiled. Please let me go.’
‘Yes, you are ... spoiled and stubborn. Hugh should have made you go, but instead he and Aunt Jessie have cosseted you, given in to you. And Maeve hasn’t helped much either.’
‘You have no right to say that! They’ve all been very good to me,’ began Sally hotly, trying vainly to twist out of his grasp.
‘Don’t struggle like that. You’ll draw attention to us, and you know what that will mean in this gossip-ridden town,’ he replied equably.
Sally stopped twisting at once and stood perfectly still, fuming inwardly.
‘That’s better,’ commented Ross. ‘Now listen and do as I tell you. Go and have your supper and I’ll call for you in half an hour and take you for a drive to remedy the omission. It will be a form of shock treatment, but you’ll be surprised how effective it will be. Once the hurdle is cleared you’ll feel differently and be more like the person you should be.’
Sally was too angry to notice the earnestness of his tone.
‘You’ll be wasting your time,’ she hissed. ‘I won’t go with you!’
He released her arm and she started to rub it in an exaggerated manner. Ross smiled, the smile which glinted in his eyes first softening their expression and crinkling them at the corners.
‘We’ll see about that,’ he murmured, and turning on his heel walked away towards the hotel.
Sally arrived home breathless and disturbed. Maeve and Aunt Jessie were already eating. Hugh was not there because he was still at sea.
‘Och, where have ye been? Ye’re verra white as if ye’d had a shock,’ fussed Aunt Jessie. ‘Sit ye down and have a cup of tea while I dish up y’r meal.’
With an anxious glance at the pale face of her favourite chick she bustled out to the kitchen, having forgotten in her anxiety to chide Sally for being late.
Maeve watched Sally with narrowed, speculative eyes. Then with an impulsive movement she stood up and went round the table to Aunt Jessie’s chair, sat down and began to pour tea into a cup.
‘What’s the matter, Sal? Has someone hurt you?’ she questioned shrewdly.
‘Nothing’s the matter. I feel tired, that’s all. It’s been warm today and my new shoes raised a blister on my heel,’ replied Sally, trying hard to control the shaking of her hand as she put sugar in her tea.
‘I thought I saw you talking to Craig Dawson in Main Street. I’ve been to Ayr today and I saw you from the bus. He seemed to be talking hard. Have you and he decided to take up from where you left off?’ probed Maeve.
‘I ... he ... he was visiting Mr. Miller, and I met him on the way out, so we walked down to the harbour together, that’s all,’ fenced Sally.
At that moment Aunt Jessie returned with Sally’s supper. Maeve gave up her questioning, much to Sally’s relief, and the conversation became more general.
After the meal Sally helped her aunt to clear the table and to wash the dishes while Maeve drifted off to the front room of the house to loll on the sofa in front of the television.
Sally was still in the kitchen when she heard a knock on the front door, followed by the sound of it opening and Maeve’s exclamation of surprise and pleasure as she greeted Ross.
Panic made Sally drop a plate which promptly broke in half.
‘I canna make out what’s wrong with ye. Leave be and go to y’r bed before ye break another. A good night’s rest is what ye are needin’.’
When Aunt Jessie spoke sharply it was better not to argue, so Sally gave in graciously and took the chance to go and hide in her bedroom. Once she was in her room with the door shut Ross would have no way of making her go driving with him.
She walked noiselessly through the hall in her stockinged feet. The door to the front room was wide open and in the corner of the room she could see the speechless contortions of a pop group on the television screen, the sound of which had been turned down. Ross’s voice, crisp and vigorous, was quite audible, although she couldn’t see either him or Maeve.
‘No, I haven’t come to see you. As a matter of fact I’ve come to take Sally for a drive.’
‘But she never goes in a car,’ objected Maeve. ‘She hasn’t been in one since the accident, and none of us has been able to persuade her. She’s a dear, and very sweet, but she has a very stubborn streak, you know.’
‘I had noticed,’ said Ross dryly. ‘But she should have been made to go as soon as possible after the accident for her own good. She’s far too timid and nervous, besides being antisocial and not a little sour. I’m surprised that none of you have tried to prevent her from getting like that.’
The crisp, critical words stopped Sally in her tracks as she was creeping past the open door, hoping to escape unseen and unheard. Mouth agape with astonishment and indignation, she waited for Maeve’s answer. Anti-social and sour. Ross’s assessment aroused pain as well as anger.
‘So you’ve noticed.’ Maeve’s voice
was like a lilting lament. ‘I’ve tried, Ross, in the short time I’ve been here. But she won’t leave Portbride ... and as you know there isn’t much in the way of social life here, only the Saturday night dances with the same crowd of farmers and fishermen. She goes with Aunt Jessie to the Rural Institute meetings and to the Church Guild, but most of the members there are middle-aged or young marrieds and she can’t have much in common with them.’
There was a brief silence and Sally, very disturbed by the overheard conversation, was about to move away and go upstairs when Maeve spoke again. The subtle change in her voice made Sally pause again.
‘It’s good of you to take an interest in her, Ross, but Sally wouldn’t thank you for your pity. She’s probably hiding already, knowing you’re here. She was quite upset when she came in, probably because she was afraid of going with you. Why waste such a lovely evening being altruistic towards someone who won’t appreciate your kindness?’ The voice deepened, became caressing, almost seductive. “Why not take me for a drive instead? I promise you, we’d have fun.’
Maeve cutting in again, as she had done so often recently. Sally held her breath as she waited for Ross’s reply. Would he capitulate and give in to that insidious languishing charm and forget his good intentions?
The floorboard on which she was standing creaked suddenly and loudly. Heart racing, Sally stood perfectly still hoping that they hadn’t heard the noise. For a few seconds all was quiet, then Ross spoke smoothly,
‘Maybe you’re right. I must say Sally didn’t seem very keen on the idea when I suggested it to her, and to spend the evening with a stubborn little prig is scarcely my idea of relaxation after a hard day’s work. Any suggestion about where we should go to have fun?’
Sally didn’t hear Maeve’s answer because there was a sort of roaring in her ears. For all he had said to the contrary Ross was no different from anyone else when it came to making a choice between herself and Maeve. Well, he wasn’t going to find it so easy to get out of his commitment! She was tired of Maeve cutting in and going off with her date.
She didn’t waste any more time questioning her motives. Acting on impulse, she walked into the room.