My Heart Remembers

by Flora Kidd

  Sally shrugged and went on her way home. It was no concern of hers, but she couldn’t help feeling glad that Lydia had gone. Now it would be easier to avoid Ross because he wouldn’t be visiting the House on the Brae and she wouldn’t have to suffer seeing him with Lydia. In three weeks he would be gone again and peace and quiet would return to Portbride and her heart.

  But the trouble was, she thought dejectedly, her heart would keep remembering.

  Sally visited Mike again on the Friday night. He was in good spirits, full of stories about the nurses who attended him and about his fellow patients. He had little to say about Ross’s visit the previous evening, but plenty to say about the impending visit of his mother who would be arriving in Ayr the next day.

  ‘Oh, then I won’t need to come,’ said Sally.

  “Not unless you’d like to meet her,’ replied Mike.

  ‘Would you like me to meet her?’ she asked, and he grinned.

  ‘What a ridiculous conversation! Of course I would. You’ve been so good to me while I’ve been in here. And you were such a good companion before. I told her about you when I was home last.’

  ‘I’ll come if you really want me to,’ said Sally reluctantly.

  ‘I want her to see you and know you and find out as I have that you’re the sweetest, kindest girl I’ve ever known, and that I ...’

  ‘Stop!’ cried Sally.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t want you to say it. I don’t want you to say you’re in love with me, because it isn’t true. And I don’t want to hurt your feelings by saying I’m not in love with you.’

  He had been holding her hand and when she had finished speaking his hand relaxed and no longer held hers tightly. She looked up in alarm. His eyes were closed.

  ‘Mike, I’m sorry. I’d give anything not to hurt you, but I have to be honest.’

  His long eyelashes quivered slightly and so did the corner of his mouth, and she realised suddenly that he was laughing, only he couldn’t laugh properly because of the injury to his ribs.

  Slowly he opened his eyes. They gleamed with merriment.

  ‘You’re quite delightful ... and I love you. Not in the way you mean, but for your honesty. I’m glad you’re not in love with me, because that wasn’t in the plan at all ...’ He stopped abruptly and bit his lower lip.

  ‘What plan?’ asked Sally suspiciously.

  He frowned and did not look at her.

  ‘Dammit, now I’ve said too much, and I can’t think of any way of not telling the truth.’

  ‘Then tell the truth.’

  His eyes were very serious, unusually so.

  ‘All right. Ross thought it would be good for you if someone of the opposite’ sex took an interest in you, made you feel as if your scar didn’t matter, brought you out of yourself, restored your self-confidence. I suppose you represented something of a challenge to him. As a piece of psychotherapy it worked. It helped him too, because one of his problems has always been me.’ Mike’s mouth twisted with self-mockery. “You see, I always manage to get myself too involved with too many girls. Having you around to entertain kept me on the straight and narrow.

  ‘Only one thing worried me ... I was afraid you might get too fond of me. Very conceited of me, I know, but I didn’t want to hurt you and I knew very well that I wasn’t ready to settle down. That’s all. I’m sorry.’

  It was true after all. Ross had deliberately pushed Mike at her.

  ‘There’s no need to be sorry. You have helped me, Mike.’

  ‘I suppose I have. It worked up to a point, didn’t it? Until Ross went away, in fact.’

  ‘I suppose when he left you felt you didn’t have to do what he said any more. That’s understandable.’

  ‘I like that!’ exploded Mike. ‘I did my best, but even the best-intentioned person finds it rather dampening to talk to a girl who isn’t listening, who’s obviously thinking of someone else.’

  Sally looked up sharply.

  ‘Was I like that?’

  ‘You were dead, not physically but mentally. No responses at all. I tried making love to you, but it was like kissing empty space, and I’d like to know why. Who is it who occupies your thoughts so much, Sally?’

  ‘No one,’ she lied desperately, and received a sceptical grimace.

  ‘Expect me to believe that. All right, I’ll let you off, but I have a feeling that whoever it is is the reason for you wanting to be like Lydia.’

  Her initial reaction to Mike’s confession was anger. If Ross had been around when she had left Mike that evening she would have told him what she thought of him. She would have told him he was an arrogant, domineering, interfering bully who thought he could organise other people’s lives in the same way that he organised the work on his wretched site. He had come back to Portbride, had noticed her damaged face and shocked state and had decided he knew exactly what to do to cure her. And he had done it not out of the kindness of his heart, not because he was sorry for her, not because he liked her, but because she presented a challenge.

  But he wasn’t around, and she could only wait at the bus stop in the mellow golden light of a September evening, inwardly fuming until gradually her anger evaporated as her thoughts stumbled against Mike’s observation that the remedy had worked until Ross had left Portbride.

  Why should the remedy fail when Ross left? The answer was clear and unavoidable. The remedy had been Ross himself, aggravating and unpredictable. Aloof one minute, charming the heart out of her the next. From the moment of his arrival in Portbride he had shaken her out of her escapist rut. Although they hadn’t met often each meeting had stimulated her, bringing her step by step out of the shell into which she had retreated after the car crash. Then when he had departed again she had begun slowly, subconsciously withdrawing back into her shell, only to be shaken out again with his reappearance. It would seem that without him, she was nothing.

  The admittance of the fact that Ross was important to her brought relief. She realised that for the last few months she had been fighting a useless battle against her own instinctive inclinations. As a girl she had liked and admired Ross, had hero-worshipped him. He had gone away and for ten years she had pretended she had forgotten him, that she didn’t like him. But she hadn’t really forgotten him, she hadn’t really disliked him. He had been there at the back of her mind and every man she had met had been measured against him and found wanting.

  Growing up is a painful business, and Sally reckoned that in learning to accept the fact that she loved Ross she reached adulthood. Her love brought pain, as she had known it would. It was not returned in the way she would have liked. Ross would go away again and as far as she could see there wasn’t anything she could do about it. ‘Except go with him,’ whispered her heart cheekily. But that was silly. You can’t go with a person if he doesn’t invite you.

  The meeting at the weekend with Mike’s mother went off pleasantly. Mrs. Searle had decided to stay in Ayr until Wednesday, so there was no need for Sally to visit Mike on Monday and Tuesday, but she promised to go in on Wednesday evening.

  When she saw the rain sheeting down on Wednesday afternoon she wished she had not committed herself, but the thought of Mike waiting and waiting spurred her on and she caught the usual bus. The weather slowed the bus down and it arrived too late for her to catch the usual bus to the hospital; the next one did not arrive until seven-thirty just as the wards opened, so she had no time for her tea and sandwich.

  Mike looked much better and he did most of the talking. His mother had extended an invitation to Sally to visit her when she was in London.

  ‘I’m hoping I’ll be convalescing by then,’ said Mike. ‘We’ll have a whale of a time, something to remember when we return to Portbride.’

  He was holding her hand as usual, but as he squeezed it the smile on his face seemed to freeze.

  ‘Don’t look now, but I’ve a feeling we’re being watched,’ he warned in sepulchral tones, and as Sally twisted in her chair to see
who was watching them he added, ‘Hello, Ross. I wasn’t expecting you tonight.’

  Sally tried to remove her hand from Mike’s grasp, but he did not seem disposed to release it. Ross stood on the opposite side of the bed and looked down at Mike.

  ‘I’ve some news for you. I thought you might be interested to know that Dawson has gone ... conveniently transferred to another local authority at his own request. Consequently he’s ducked the responsibility of the accident at the site.’

  ‘Well, the ...’ began Mike, stopping abruptly as he remembered Sally. She took the opportunity to free her hand and to stand up.

  ‘I’ll go now.’

  ‘There’s no need,’ interposed Mike softly. ‘Ross doesn’t mind.’

  ‘If you’d like to wait downstairs I’ll take you back to Portbride, Sally,’ offered Ross coolly, making it quite clear that he expected her to leave while he was talking to Mike.

  ‘No, thank you, I’ll catch the first bus. Goodnight, Mike.’

  ‘Goodnight, Sally. Thanks for coming. Come again tomorrow, won’t you? We’ve a lot to plan for October, haven’t we?’

  His voice trailed away on a suggestive note and she glanced at him in surprise.

  ‘You’ve forgotten something,’ he said.

  ‘What’s that?’ she queried.

  ‘My goodnight kiss.’

  ‘You can make do without it tonight,’ suggested Ross smoothly. ‘Sally is a bit shy of demonstrating in front of others.’

  Her cheeks red with confusion, suddenly hating both of them, Sally bent and kissed Mike briefly on his cheek, glared at Ross and stalked out of the ward.

  The rain soon cooled her anger. During the short walk between the hospital and the bus shelter she became drenched. There was no one in the shelter and after waiting for a few minutes it dawned on her that she had missed the bus she had hoped to catch.

  Cold, damp and hungry, she began to wish she had waited in the waiting room for Ross. As he had said once before, pride wasn’t much use when the rain is coming down in buckets. It wasn’t much use being proud where he was concerned, she thought miserably. Her attitude of independence seemed to have no effect on him whatsoever.

  She thought of the comfort of the grey car, of riding back to Portbride with him through the wet countryside, of the security which his presence gave her, and then of the exciting tension which always built up between them when they were alone together. Perhaps she should go back into the hospital and wait. Perhaps she should grasp the opportunity to spend some moments alone with him, moments she might be able to make last for ever.

  While she hesitated some visitors to the hospital reached the shelter, exclaiming about the rain and shaking their umbrellas. Visiting time was over. Ross might be out and she might miss both him and the bus if she returned to the hospital now.

  A car swooshed past, sending up a spray of water, and she was glad she was wearing high boots. Another car came more slowly and stopped. The nearside door opened and Ross looked out and said crisply,

  ‘Like a lift?’

  Sally looked down into hard blue eyes, aware that the women waiting behind her had stopped chattering and were watching with interest.

  ‘I know I risk being refused a fourth time by offering,’ he said, ‘but it’s a risk I’m willing to take. You look like a drowned kitten.’

  Sally swallowed her pride, ignored his taunt and moved forward. He slid back into the driver’s seat and she sat down beside him and closed the door.

  ‘I half expected you to invite the rest of the queue into the car with you,’ murmured Ross as he guided the car away from the cub. You would have done at one time. Is it possible that you’re beginning to grow up at last? I suggest you take off your raincoat and remove your scarf and boots. You’ll feel more comfortable.’

  She did as he suggested, throwing the raincoat to join his on the back seat. Ross turned on the heater, saying as he did so,

  ‘Now you see the advantage of a car over a Land-Rover. Sit back and relax. You’ll soon feel dryer and warmer. Are you hungry?’

  ‘Yes. I missed the bus from Ayr, and I didn’t have time for anything in the waiting room.’

  ‘All for Mike,’ he commented. ‘I wonder if he realises how lucky he is.’

  She sensed a note of censure in his voice as if he disapproved of her sacrificing her mealtime to visit Mike.

  ‘It’s the least I can do. He’s hurt and far away from his relatives.’

  ‘I thought his mother came at the weekend. Did you meet her?’

  ‘Yes, I did, but ...’

  ‘But you’re still bent on making yourself a sacrificial animal on his behalf.’

  ‘I’m not a sacrificial animal. I don’t feel that way at all,’ she said indignantly, then stopped abruptly and stared miserably out of the window. They were on the verge of quarrelling over Mike and she had intended to make the most of this opportunity.

  ‘No need to elaborate on how you feel. I can guess,’ he answered coldly, stopping the car at some traffic lights. Aloof and withdrawn, he watched the lights, waiting for them to change colour. Sally wondered how she could get through to him. For once he looked tidy in a white shirt and bluish-grey tweed suit. His hair had been flattened by the rain, so it was not as unruly as usual, but as it dried the front lock began to slide forward and she found herself wondering what he would say if she put out a hand and pushed it back.

  She sighed heavily. He did not look at her nor did he make any comment. He was far away. She couldn’t reach him at all. She must try to think of something which interested them both ... like the wind on the moors and the sun and the rain ... and maybe their minds would meet again. But if he was thinking of Lydia there wasn’t a hope.

  She noticed with surprise that they had entered Ayr and that instead of turning left after passing the statue of Robert Burns, the Scottish poet, they were passing down the main shopping street, past the tall grey Wallace tower which loomed over the pavement, an unusual memorial to an unusual hero.

  ‘We’re going the wrong way. We should have turned left by the Burns statue,’ she blurted. Surely Ross knew his way back to Portbride.

  ‘I’m going the way I want to go,’ he replied calmly as they stopped at more traffic lights. ‘I’m sorry if it isn’t agreeable to you.’

  The traffic lights changed to green and the car turned right over a stone bridge which spanned the River Ayr.

  ‘Where are we going?’ she demanded.

  ‘We’re going to eat. You said you’re hungry. I’m ravenous, so I thought we’d eat together in a leisurely, comfortable manner. To put it concisely, I’m taking you out to dinner.’

  ‘Oh!’

  For a moment she was so confused she could think of nothing to say. She ought to be pleased and flattered, but all she could think of was that in her short tartan kilt, sweater and raincoat and high boots she was hardly dressed for dinner in an expensive hotel.

  ‘But Aunt Jessie will be expecting me. She’ll have my supper ready. I’m sure she’ll invite you in to eat too,’ she suggested.

  ‘No doubt,’ he said dryly, ‘and we’d eat to the accompaniment of her history of the day’s events in Portbride. And then not being as tactful as Hugh, she would sit and wait until I left and once again all the things which you and I have to say to each other would be unsaid.’

  They were passing through the seaside resort of Prestwick. Sally blinked at the sturdy red and yellow sandstone villas which lined the roadway.

  ‘Have we much to say to each other?’ she asked.

  ‘I think so. Why do you think I came back to Portbride?’

  ‘To destroy Winterston House. You said so,’ she replied innocently. ‘We could talk going home in the car. You don’t have to buy my dinner just to talk to me. Aunt Jessie will be worried when I don’t turn up on time.’

  ‘Damn Aunt Jessie!’ he said explosively, unkindly. ‘When are you going to untie the string which attaches you to her and Hugh? I can’t talk properly w
hen I’m driving and when I’m hungry, and although I appreciate your thrifty outlook, will you please remember that I’m doing this because I want to do it, not because I have to. I want to eat in a civilised manner with soft lights and good service, and I’d like your company. How often do I have to say it before you’ll understand?’

  He had deliberately reminded her of the night they had gone to the fairground, and the old familiar excited anticipation tingled in her veins, the feeling that something exciting would happen and which she associated with soft summer nights. Strange that she should experience it tonight when the soft September rain was blotting out the sky.

  They skirted the airport in a silence disturbed only by the swish of windscreen wipers. A double row of lights, fuzzy with rain, appeared on the right, close to the ground, looking like starbursts against the murk. Then they were past the runway and on a darkened country road which led to the sea.

  The hotel Ross had chosen was well-known. It was almost on the shore and in front of its walls the unseen sea lapped at a rim of sand. Inside there was warmth and the type of hushed luxury which is conveyed by thick fitted carpets, velvet draperies and exotic arrangements of potted plants. In the dining room they sat by the great curved window which in daytime offered an extensive view of the Clyde Estuary and the Island of Arran, but which was now covered by curtains.

  While Ross studied the menu Sally looked about her with interest. There were several couples dining tete-a-tete at the candlelit tables. There was also a group of businessmen talking and eating with gusto. Further away there was a birthday party being held, judging by the mixture of people sitting around a long table on which there was a large cake covered with small lighted candles.

  Most of the women dining there were in evening dress and were obviously groomed for the occasion, and she wished she had had time to prepare properly for this, her first dinner date. That was if it could be called a dinner date, she thought with a smile, thinking of the way she had been invited. In fact an invitation had not been issued. She had been told she was going to eat because they were both hungry and because Ross wanted to eat in a civilised manner. The whole arrangement was so typical of Ross that she couldn’t help smiling.