She had come uninvited into the study, her blatant intrusion interrupting a period of sullen moping and its associated progress towards drunkenness. Unceremoniously she pushed his feet off the footstool and replaced them with a tray carrying a mug of hot tea, a plate of buttered toast, two boiled eggs and a glass of orange juice.
'Come in, why don't you,' he said, contemptuously.
'I will thank you.'
He eyed the tray. 'I don't want that. I'm not hungry.'
She puffed out a harsh, 'Pah!' before snatching the glass of spirit from his hand and replacing it with the juice.
'Give it back, Meg, if you know what's good for you.'
'Come and get it.' She put the glass out of his reach on the desk, picked up the tray and placed it over his lap. She stood back, her face set as tight as a spinster schoolmarm's, obviously expecting him to throw it at her. He wouldn't give her the satisfaction.
'I don't want it,' he reiterated.
'I don't care what you want,' she said, planting her hands firmly on her hips. 'You will eat,' She leaned forward menacingly. '…or do I have to feed you like a child?'
'Get out of my sight, ye interfering busybody.'
'I'm not going anywhere until I see you eating.'
A scowl formed on his brow, hooding his eyes. 'I said I'm not hungry. Are ye deaf now, woman?'
'I heard you plain enough.'
The scowl deepened and his mouth puckered in defiance.
'You can be just as stubborn as you like,' she said evenly, folding her arms. 'I can wait here all day…can you?'
He didn't stand a chance. He may have been in possession of a mule-like obstinacy, but she too had the intransigence of a bull elephant. She really would have stood over him all day. She didn't have to. The stand-off lasted only a couple of minutes before he weakened. He had failed the challenge. The tea was hot, the toast smelled delicious and the eggs were done just as he liked them, with soft runny yolks. Betraying him, his stomach rumbled. He gave in and picked up a piece of the toast, dipped it in the egg, coating it with sticky, yellow yolk and took a bite.
Her face softened as she smiled. 'There now, that's better isn't it?' She sat on the vacated footstool.
'Are you going to watch me?'
'To the last bite. Get on with it.'
He made rapid progress through the eggs and the toast. 'What did you mean, I'm going to die in this chair?' he said, wiping his mouth on the napkin.
'Do you want any more to eat?' she asked, avoiding the question.
'No thanks. What did you mean?'
She rearranged the items on the tray. 'You can't go on doing this, Nat.'
'Doing what? Eating eggs?'
She waved her hand over him and the chair. 'This...this sulking.'
'I'm not sulking, I'm thinking.'
'You have to be sober to think.' Her voice was edged with resigned sadness. 'Face it, Nat, you're languishing in this room, and it can't go on any longer. I've tolerated it, God knows I have, but even I've reached my limit. Thankfully, I'll be gone in a few weeks and won't have to see you doing this any more. If Rebecca had any sense she'd leave you too, and you'll be all on your own here. There'll be no-one to look after you because you'll have driven them all away with your miserable bad-temperedness and rudeness, then what are you going to do?'
'I can look after myself,' he said.
'Oh really?'
'I'm perfectly capable. I don't need…mollycoddling.'
'Is that what you think I'm doing? I'll tell you what's going to happen, Nat, you're going to sink down in that chair and just fade away. You'll not eat, you'll not wash, you'll grow yourself a long grey beard and slowly but surely, like a latter day Howard Hughes, you'll drink and starve yourself to death.'
'You're being melodramatic. That's not going to happen.'
'Have you looked at yourself lately? It's already started.'
He ran his hand over his face, the sharp, stubbly three-day growth pricked at the skin of his palms and he and felt a germ of fear begin to grow in him.
'You're killing yourself, Nat, and it's breaking my heart to watch you do it.'
Her words were like a dagger, stabbing him straight in the heart. He looked at her; at her face, in her eyes, and they reflected the depth of her anguish - she was earnestly afraid for him. The image he suddenly conjured up of himself - dressed in rags, soaked in incontinent urine, emaciated and drink sodden, suddenly filled him with terror.
His voice grew soft and tremulous. 'I don't want die alone. I don't want to be found rather than missed.' His eyes moistened with trepidation. 'Don't let that happen to me, Meg. Don't let me end up a shrivelled, stinking corpse, forgotten and alone, surrounded by empty bottles…I want to go in my own bed, at a grand old age, surrounded by my friends and family, not a drunken, lonely old man.'
She put her hand on his knee and applied a little reassuring pressure. 'You're not old,' she said, and gave him a comforting smile.
He placed his hand on top of hers. 'Don't let me die like that.'
'I've done everything I can already, sweetheart. Now, it's up to you. Think about it, before it's too late.' She took the tray, and his drink, away, and left him with his thoughts.
He presented himself for inspection in the kitchen a short while later, freshly washed and shaved with neatly combed hair. He was tidily dressed and smelled nice. 'How's that?'
She looked him over from head to foot, and all around before rewarding him with a wide approving smile. 'Very nice,' she said. 'Very nice indeed.' She hugged him tightly and her lips brushed his smooth, newly shaved cheek.
And as he sat in the chair recalling that particular battle of wills, a sudden realisation came to him - that kiss was it. A hug and a smile and a brief, almost imperceptible touch of her lips, and he had fallen in love with Just Megan.
It had been brewing for a long time, but that, he now knew, was the instant when it had all come together. It was the one shining moment he had been searching for - the how and the when.
She had threatened him with decrepitude and a lonely, miserable death if he didn't mend his ways, and then she had hugged him, kissed him and put her faith in him. Yes, that was definitely it. The recollection filled him with a warm glow of optimism and, smiling broadly, he toasted his future with the beer.
Very different dreams disturbed his sleep that night.
They didn't involve Joanna at all, instead he saw Megan. She was there with him in his bed, just as they had been in hers.
She had been watching him as he slept, her hand stroking through the hair on his chest. She leaned over and kissed him. He returned it and as he did, he felt her hand brush gently over his naked stomach. She draped her leg over his and brought herself closer and he could feel the heat of her groin against his. Her touch, her warmth and her smell were arousing him and his erection began to push against her.
'That tickles,' she said, through her kisses.
Then her hand was on it, stroking with fingertips that had the smoothness of a silk sheet. He felt his stomach tightening and the throbbing warmth creeping into his now fully attentive organ. She kissed his stomach and he gasped as a short wave of delight rippled through all his limbs. He wanted more. He wanted what she had given him before. He wanted her. He needed her…
Suddenly she wasn't there. He was wide awake and alone in his bed with his cock standing to attention and the memory of her touch on his goose-fleshed skin.
Lying back, he closed his eyes trying to bring her back to him. He masturbated until he climaxed, but it was not the same in an empty bed. The post-orgasmic waves pulsed through him and his firing nerves gradually calmed as he breathed.
He cleaned himself up with tissues from the box on the bedside table, before flopping back into bed. He lay still, staring vacantly at the ceiling, too many thoughts whirling around in his head for him to grasp any one of them and make sense of it.
He closed his eyes and allowed himself to doze. A ray of sunlight seeped through a g
ap in his curtains and moved across the bed. When it touched his face, its bright warmth woke him again. He threw back the duvet and went to the bathroom to take a long, hot shower. He needed to be fresh and alert today. He had a lot to do.
He spent the best part five hours alone in his study that day. He watched through the window as Old John the gardener, puffing on his ever present pipe, pottered around in the shrubbery clipping, snipping and pruning and raking up any odd leaves he could find. He hadn't really taken much notice of the old man before, he had just always 'been there'. Like Rebecca, he had come with the house. Now, suddenly he appreciated how very aged his employee was - eighty if he was a day, and still as fit as a flea. He himself had just turned a respectably middle-aged fifty-five, but at times felt twice his age.
Rebecca returned from her morning out, running errands in town. Twenty minutes later, she brought him his lunch on a tray - soup, a bread roll, cup of tea and a banana which he accepted with quiet thanks. He told her nothing of his plans.
He then passed the afternoon deep in thought, pacing across the rug where Megan had helped him get over his panic attack. He sat on the window seat where he had cried like a baby, held safely in her arms, and he sat in the easy chair cradling his head in his hands. His agitated, anxious thoughts raced. Normally he would have needed a drink to calm and order them, but today he didn't touch a single drop.
Finally, he stood and looked at the photograph of Joanna. He spent a good while gazing at it, trying to remember everything he could about her - her touch, her voice, her laugh, her scent - He found some of the details had faded over time. Some things he couldn't remember at all. He ultimately knew what he had to do.
He went to the telephone that lay on his desk and pushed the button marked 'saved messages'. A woman's voice, high and excited, played out.
“Nat, darling, it's me. You should be home by now and I'm not there, obviously. Don't worry, everything's fine, I'm just having fun spending all your money! (She laughed) I'm just letting you know that I might be a bit late back tonight sweetie; we've decided to try a really nice looking Italian we found. You know how I love my carbonara and a couple more inches around my waist won't do any harm. I'll see you soon. I love you.”
He listened to her last message repeatedly, tears running unabated down his face.
'I love you, Joanna.' he said, his voice catching in his throat. 'I'll always love you. You know that, but I need to look after myself now. I need to move on. You understand, don't you?'
And then it was done. The button had been pressed to delete any saved messages and he said a final goodbye to his wife. As the phone confirmed that the message had gone, he took off his gold band and put it in the top drawer of his desk, on top of the gun cabinet key box, and locked them both away.
He gave himself a full five minutes to compose himself before he picked up the telephone and dialled. The phone rang for so long he thought it would never be picked up.
'Hello, Rose Cottage.'
'Meg?'
'Nat?'
He paused. 'I kept my promise.'
Chapter 29
She gripped the telephone receiver hard in her hand. She had been waiting all day for Nat to call, and now he had, she couldn't say anything.
'Meg, are you there?' His voice was tinny through the earpiece.
'Yes, I'm still here. Have you done what you needed to do?'
'Aye, I have.'
'So what happens now?'
'We talk.' There was a long pause. 'Will you come to me, Meg?'
'Of course. Give me time to change and I'll see you in a little while.'
'I'll be waiting.'
At just after four o'clock, Megan pulled into the drive at Struan Lodge and parked her car next to Rebecca's Beetle.
She let herself into the Lodge through the back door to come face to face with her sister. 'Hi, Becks,' she said, with strained cheerfulness.
'Megs!' Rebecca leapt up from the table where she had silver cutlery spread out for cleaning. 'What are you doing here? Has something happened at home? Has something happened to Paul?'
'No, nothing like that, there's no need to fret. I'm here to see Nat. I'm expected.'
Rebecca's features soured. 'You'd better go through then. He's skulking around in the usual place. You should know the way by now.' She retook her seat and resumed her feverish polishing.
Megan left her to her work and made her way across the hallway to Nat's study. She took off her coat, straightened her sweater and checked her hair in the gilded mirror. Confident she looked decent enough to be received, she knocked gently on the study door.
She heard a muffled, 'Come in,' and opened the door carefully. She peered around it. He was sitting in his chair reading his newspaper. Her demure, 'Hello,' made him turn. As soon as he saw her, he broke into a wide smile, folded the paper closed and sprang to his feet. 'Hello.'
Although she had been in the room dozens of times before, this time would be different and she felt a twinge of nervousness. She closed the door behind her with a soft click. In the time it took her to do it, he had closed the distance between them and gathered her into a tight hug.
'I'm so glad you came,' he said, his face pressed into her hair. 'You took so long. I'd almost given up hope.' She wrapped her arms around him, and through his soft cotton shirt, could feel the musculature of his back.
'It was only an hour,' she said. 'I had to make myself respectable.'
He released her from his hold and kissed her welcome. 'Sit here,' he said, and led her to the old chair. He sat her down and pulled up the footstool for himself, rested his arms on her knees and gripped at her hands. He appeared edgy.
'Are you alright?' she said, noting his nerviness.
'I'm fine, why?'
'You seem a bit…excited.'
He smiled and nodded. 'I am. I've been looking forward to seeing you again.' He looked intently at their hands. 'What…what we talked about yesterday, have you changed your mind about anything?'
'We talked about a lot of things. I'm afraid you'll have to be more specific.'
He lifted his eyes to her again. 'I can't,' he said. 'I need to know if you've changed your mind about anything at all?'
She shook her head. 'No. I still love you and I still don't want you to go away.'
'And I still want you to come with me.'
She looked at him with earnest eyes. 'You're fully determined to sell up and leave Kirkton aren't you?'
'Aye.'
'But you've been here so long.'
'Gey too long, if I'm honest with myself.'
'Have you told Rebecca you are going yet?'
He shook his head, biting his underlip. 'Not yet. I rather thought you might do it for me.'
'No chance! Don't be such a coward.'
He formed his face into an expression of childlike helplessness 'Please.'
'No, Nat. It's your responsibility. She's your employee.'
He sagged his shoulders and his head slumped. 'Dammit,' he grumbled.
'She won't bite.'
He hung his head further. 'She might. She frightens me.'
Megan laughed. 'So, the sooner you do it…'
He turned his eyes up to her. 'I think I might need to take a little Dutch courage first.'
'No, you won't,' she said, firmly.
'Actually,' he said. 'After some thought, I've come to the conclusion that she won't really care if I'm here or not. I sort of inherited her when I bought the place so she belongs to the house, not me. I'll give her a good reference of course and the new owners may take her on, but she won't miss me in the least. To be honest, I don't think she likes me very much.'
'Of course she does. She may not show it, but I think she likes you well enough.'
'I'll have to take your word for that.'
She looked down at their entwined hands before selecting his left one and turning it over. The skin of his third finger had a pale stripe where his ring once lay. 'Where's your wedding band, Nat?' she aske
d.
He drew his lips into a tight line. 'I took it off,' he said. 'It's a phase of my life I've said goodbye to. The band was just a reminder of something's that's over.'
'No, sweetie, you shouldn't have done that.' She touched the empty finger with her lips, and enclosed his hand protectively in her own.
'I had to,' he said. 'It's time to leave the past behind and start anew. I thought you would appreciate that.'
She nodded that she did. 'Have you decided where you want to go for this fresh start?'
He shook his head. 'I have no idea. I might just stick a pin in the map and see what comes up.'
'That's not the way to do it. You can't do a thing like this on impulse. It needs care and consideration…'
'Where would you want to go, Meg? To the city, the coast…deep in the woods with the squirrels or high on a windy hilltop with no neighbours for a thousand miles…'
She laughed lightly. 'I can go anywhere. I haven't unpacked everything from the last time yet. It's been over a year since I moved in with Rebecca and I'm still living out of boxes.'
He pressed his lips briefly to her hands. 'Wherever we go, I want you to always be with me because I don't think I could do it without you. I don't want to do anything without you.'
In a soft yet serious tone she said, 'This is going to be a huge thing for you, Nat. Are you sure you are really ready for it?'
'A huge thing for us,' he corrected her.
Maybe, she thought. I haven't decided yet. 'Have you really thought about it?' she said.
He stroked her fingers. 'I can't seem to think about anything else.'
'And you are absolutely sure you want to go through with it?'
'Absolutely, one hundred percent.'
'And I can't talk you out of it?'
'Are you trying to?'
'If you've made up your mind, Nat, I'll not do anything to stop you.'
'I have.'
She placed her palm against his face. He hadn't shaved that morning. 'Will you go even if I say I don't want to?' she asked.
'Aye,' he said. 'I need to do this, but I won't make you do anything you don't want to. I won't force you to go. I don't want you to be unhappy because of me.'
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