by L G Dickson
‘There’ll be a small fee but if we’re successful with grant assistance then there is the potential for a salaried position – although I’m guessing it would pay a pittance.’
‘If I come and see you I’m not staying in some communal bunkhouse with a bunch of hairy-arsed men – or women for that matter.’ Annie made her remonstrations while blowing unceremoniously into the bundle of tissues.
‘Don’t worry. I’ll be in a little place of my own and I’ll make sure it’s just perfect for you.’
‘I hate this, James, I really do. Things just started to settle and it was all beginning to feel so comfortable. I know we’re not actually living together or anything but I felt we were a “couple”. I’m sorry but no matter how you dress it up it feels like you’re leaving me. Do you understand what I mean?’
‘No I don’t, darling. We still are a couple and no I’m not leaving you. I’m going to do something that I feel is important but that doesn’t reflect on us. Doing something like this, well, that’s just part of who I am and I can’t really be any less than that. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me in a long time but I just feel so stifled at work. I could end up turning out like Duncan!’
Annie couldn’t help but smile at the prospect. She had exhausted all her arguments and couldn’t face prolonging the agony anymore.
‘Let’s not do this anymore, tonight. Look, I’ve got a day off tomorrow. Why don’t you just stay here tonight?’
James looked relieved. They were both past eating and like two evenly matched fighters who had lasted the full bout, they collapsed exhausted into their respective corners. They lay in silence for a long time until their hands clasped under the covers. Slowly and tenderly, they made love and then slept soundly through to the next morning.
Annie woke to find James gone. Surely not already, she thought to herself until she heard the key turn in the door. His tuneless whistling filled the flat as he clattered about the kitchen. Annie knew he had again bought far too much from the Home Bakery. As she turned over, enjoying the moments before full wakefulness, the warmth of his body was still there on the pillow and the sheets. The sense of him, here in bed and throughout the rest of the flat overwhelmed her. This was what she wanted; this was what she thought was her future. Why did he need to destroy that? The bedroom door opened and in he came with a mug of tea. He set the tea down and swept the hair away from her eyes.
‘You are lovely.’
‘Yes, well, not that lovely, obviously.’
‘Oh, Annie, please. Things will work out for us – they will; and look, when I get the chance I’m going to take you away, just the two of us, to Italy. You know the book I’ve been reading – well, there’s a lovely little spot, high up above the Lakes where an amazing man has created these lovely gardens and I just know you would love it. Just us, enjoying each other and the beautiful things that the world has to offer. We’ve so many adventures ahead of us, you and I.’ James paused. ‘I know this is hard for you. I know it is but please you have to give me a chance. You have to believe in us a bit more.’
CHAPTER 5
‘Are you sure you still want to go?’ Annie was stretched out on the couch watching a 1930s black and white weepie.
‘I’m happy to. Get us in the Christmas spirit?’ James turned round from the desk, peering over his reading glasses. Every last inch of the antique writing table was piled high with papers.
‘Okay, I’ll phone Kirsty now and let her know. Are you going to tell them all about Assynt?’
‘Don’t see why not.’ James had turned back and was once more immersed in the world of grant applications and business plans.
It was all so uncomplicated to him, she thought.
‘Unless you don’t want me to.’
Okay, not completely self-absorbed then. ‘No, it’s fine.’
Annie walked through to the hall and called the Drummonds. ‘Duncan. Hi, it’s Annie. Yes, we’ll both be round tomorrow night. Do you need us to bring anything?’
‘Just yourselves, Annie. Kirsty has taken over the kitchen for a change and I must say she’s cooking up a storm. It’s all finger food but it’s looking bloody good. I’ve got enough champagne, wine and whisky to sink a boat, oh and of course gin, but if there’s anything else you want, just let me know and I’ll get it tomorrow.’
‘No, that’s great, Duncan, see you tomorrow.’
Annie returned to the couch to find Ludovic in her place. ‘Just try moving me, Miss Annie.’
She sidled up next to him, hoping a gentle shove in the ribs might be more than he could stand. He looked at her and then jumped down in disgust. ‘I had no idea cats could actually look disdainful but that was it right there.’
James laughed. ‘What are you watching, Miss Annie?’
Don’t call me that, she thought, that’s what the cat calls me.
‘Random Harvest. Ronald Coleman and Greer Garson. It’s about a man with amnesia. Falls in love with Paula, becomes a writer, gets knocked down and then remembers his life before Paula. He’s some kind of big industrialist and he goes back to that life. All the time he’s spent with her has just gone – he doesn’t know her at all even when she goes to work for him. She spends the rest of the film waiting for him to come back to her.’
James joined her on the couch and put her head on his lap. ‘Bet he does go back to her.’
‘Yes, well, they always do in 1930s Hollywood.’
*
‘My, you scrub up well, Mr Kerr. Really liking the tweed jacket although it’s a bit more landed gentry than man of the people.’ Annie was giving her man the once over before they set off for the Drummonds’.
James gently shook his head. ‘Well, thank you, my dear. Not sure what to say to that. A tweed jacket is a tweed jacket as far as I’m concerned. Right, where’s that wine? Are you sure that’s all we need to take?’
‘Oh God, yes. Our little offering will be completely surplus to requirements, believe me.’
‘Do you know anyone else who’s going?’
‘Well, there’s Gordon and Virginia of course and I think some of the other neighbours, none of whom you’ll have met, I’m guessing?’
‘Correct!’
‘And I think there might be a few folk from Duncan’s office.’
The icy air from the dense fog tumbling down the Terrace hit their lungs as soon as they left the flat. Annie grabbed James’s arm and they hurried round into Royal Circus where the dimly lit globes, set high on their black cast iron supports, peered through the mist. She was sure she could hear the swishing of a Victorian gentleman’s cloak as he scurried by the railings. Edinburgh was at its best at this time of year. She thought of Leerie the Lamplighter and her father, tucking in the sheets and blankets tightly at each side of the bed and then sitting by her to read from A Child’s Garden of Verses. She remembered feeling like a tightly swaddled baby; that sense of being completely safe and secure as he told his stories. The memory warmed her all the way to No. 92 Great King Street.
James hit the heavy brass knocker with a flourish. All for effect, thought Annie, as there was a perfectly functional doorbell right in front of him.
As soon as Kirsty opened the door, it was obvious all was not well.
‘Strachan and Marjorie are here. They just “popped” in on their way to friends’. God, why tonight of all nights?’ Kirsty looked beside herself.
‘Great, Strachan. I’m going to meet Strachan!’ James grinned from ear to ear.
‘Right, that’s enough, you. I don’t want you causing any bother.’ God, he’s like a naughty little boy sometimes, Annie thought.
Kirsty ushered them inside, grabbing hurriedly at their coats.
‘You’ve heard about Duncan’s father then, James?’
‘Well, just some basic facts. Annie told me about her
trip up to meet Duncan’s folks a few years ago. Sounds like a fascinating man. Can’t wait to meet him.’
Kirsty looked quizzically at Annie.
No, I’m not sure what that means either, Annie thought.
The first thing Annie noticed as they walked through to the lounge was Duncan sitting quietly slumped in the armchair, beer in hand. He looked so much smaller, she thought, in contrast to Strachan who seemed to fill the room with his presence. He was telling Gordon and some of the other men all about Duncan’s brother, Lachlan, and an unfortunate rugby injury.
‘Yes, it’s a bloody shame. Torn all the ligaments in his thigh. Season’s over for him really but still insists on coming into work every day – even on crutches. Don’t know what I’d do without him, mind you; he’s practically running the business on his own these days.’
Duncan’s face suddenly brightened and he jumped up from his detached position in the corner of the room. ‘James, old man. Annie, wonderful. What would you like to drink? Was waiting for you to arrive before I cracked open the bubbly!’
‘Bubbly, Duncan? Really? Hardly a man’s drink, that. I’m sure James would rather have a beer or a quick snifter.’ Strachan slapped James on the back with a force that made him stumble forward slightly.
James quickly recovered his composure. ‘Bubbly’s great, Duncan, thanks. I’ll come and help you.’
The two men escaped to the kitchen, emerging a short while later to pass round glasses of ice-cold fizz.
‘Perfect!’ Annie exclaimed, perhaps just a bit too keenly. She was standing by the fireplace with Kirsty and Marjorie when the two men joined the little group. Strachan was still holding sway in the middle of the room with a group of Duncan’s colleagues that included the hapless Virginia and Gordon. Virginia looked wistfully over at the little gathering standing by the roaring log fire. Annie thought she looked like a young, wounded antelope cornered by a pride of lions and felt a sudden urge to rescue her friend and bring her back to the friendly herd. She resisted the temptation in case the alpha male broke away with her.
The friendly little group’s tactical positioning could only last for so long and Strachan began to look about for some fresh meat. Annie could see him heading towards James and before she could send any kind of warning signal Strachan was there, once again slapping him on the back.
‘Okay, James, time for proper introductions. I know you’re Annie’s new man! Strachan Drummond, Duncan’s father.’
James turned, smiled politely and shook Strachan’s outstretched hand.
‘Are you an Edinburgh man, James?’
‘Glasgow, actually.’
‘Really? How interesting. What brings you to the metropolis then?’
Annie knew James really wanted to say something about the relative merits of Scotland’s two big cities but he was restraining himself.
‘I’m a civil servant. Work in St Andrew’s House.’
‘Well now, this is the first time I’ve met one of you chaps in the flesh. Thought you always hid yourselves away in these monstrous grey office blocks.’
James smiled but Annie could see in his eyes that this was not an encounter he was enjoying. ‘They let me out to meet the masses now and again.’
‘So what is it you actually do then, James?’
‘Well, I’m rural affairs really. I’m leaving shortly to work with a crofters’ organisation up in Assynt.’
Annie stared at him. Okay, that’s it out now.
‘It’s not that lot that are thinking about trying to buy the land up there is it?’
‘Well, yes it is actually.’
‘I’ve had a few run-ins with the crofters’ union myself. Let them sink or swim, I say. If they can’t drum up the necessary funds themselves then they shouldn’t be getting any help from the state, or the likes of you, James. I’m sure you could put your talents to better use. All good and well managing a few sheep on a smallholding but this is bloody business we’re talking about, James.’
‘Oh, I don’t know. I like the idea of helping them to purchase the land. You know, ensure the income it generates stays in the local community and doesn’t just line the pockets of absentee landlord or speculators. Help them improve the management of the estate. I really think it’s the way forward, encouraging new developments, new employment opportunities… that kind of thing.’ And with a wry smile, James slapped Strachan on the back.
He didn’t break stride. ‘Improve the management of the estate, my arse, James. There’s a lot of bloody good people invested their hard-earned money in these estates. Crofters shouldn’t be getting any preferential treatment. I tell you, it’s nationalisation of land through the back door – mad communist ideology, that’s what it is!’
Annie noticed Strachan was getting more agitated but James was completely calm. He’s starting to enjoy this, she thought. Everyone else in the room had fallen silent, engrossed in the sparring match.
Duncan suddenly turned away from his father. There was a slight tremble in his voice as he fixed his gaze on James. ‘I agree with James actually. After all, they’re the people who really know the land; might encourage families to stay, increase the population and all that.’
Only that tight little group of friends knew what it took for Duncan to oppose his father’s position on anything. Kirsty quietly slipped her hand into Duncan’s as Strachan, face like thunder, moved away to top up his drink. Gordon and Virginia nervously tried to strike up a conversation about the paucity of lights on the Stockbridge Christmas tree just as James gave Duncan a reassuring nod. Annie didn’t know if Duncan truly believed what he had said but it didn’t matter. He had stood up to his father, looked ten feet taller and found common cause with James. She slipped her arm round her man’s waist and clung on tightly.
Shortly after, Strachan and Marjorie made their excuses and left. Marjorie gave her son a reassuring hug but Strachan was keen to make a point of ignoring him. Point made, Duncan looked relieved to see the back of him.
‘So, old man, tell us more about this trip to Assynt. When are you off?’
It was too much for Annie to hope that they could ever be best friends but they were sitting down having a meaningful conversation about crofting! There was nothing superficial, nothing said or done for effect; just two men sharing their thoughts and ideas.
Annie went off to find Kirsty. She was in the kitchen bent over the sink, scrubbing away at a large roasting tray trying to lift the sticky residue of barbecued ribs.
‘Leave that, Kirsty, and come back through. Everyone’s having such a nice time.’
The roasting tray dropped from her grasp and her shoulders started to shake.
‘Hey, Kirsty darling. What’s wrong?’ Annie turned her round to see tears streaming down her cheeks. She had never seen Kirsty cry before.
‘Oh, Annie. I’ve never seen Duncan talk like that to his father. I mean, I’m glad that he did, I just hope there won’t be any repercussions, that’s all.’
‘Oh, Kirsty, no. It’s a good thing he can hold his ground with Strachan. Could be the making of him, you know.’
The two women embraced. Annie wiped Kirsty’s face with a tea towel.
‘Come on, the night is young!’ Annie grabbed another couple of bottles of champagne from the fridge and the two chums rejoined the party.
*
In the days that followed, Annie thought carefully about how the drama had unfolded at the Drummonds’ soirée. She happily recalled Duncan’s emergence from his father’s oppressive shadow but the more significant development, for her at any rate, had been her friends’ unquestioning acceptance of James’s imminent departure north. They had listened intently to his explanation of what he was about to do, asked intelligent questions and admired his resolve for getting stuck into something he felt passionate about. At no point did anyone express
any concern for Annie or for the future of their relationship. She began to wonder if she had really overthought this. If no one else could see what the problem was then maybe she just needed to be a bit more supportive.
Thoughts turned to planning and logistics; working out weekends here and there; calculating how little time they would actually be apart. After all, once she factored in the time spent at work now, it shouldn’t really have such a big impact. After careful reflection the negatives began to turn to positives. He was going to do something worthwhile, something that meant a lot to him and something her friends clearly admired him for. She could legitimately feel proud of him.
It was something akin to an epiphany. The dark clouds started to lift and Annie determined to see only good things ahead. Time to start planning for Christmas and looking forward to all that 1991 would bring.
*
James had negotiated his leaving date with the Scottish Office, which gave Annie until the end of February to enjoy what remained of Phase One and to plan for a different but altogether perfectly manageable Phase Two of their relationship. Christmas was going to be wonderful, she decided, and threw herself, with some gusto, into present buying and decorating. Shabby decorations and battered baubles were swiftly discarded in favour of an overall red, gold and green colour scheme. Everything matched and she had even acquired a craft skills magazine from Virginia, which was directly responsible for the gold pinecones sitting in a hand-painted bowl on the hearth. James made the right kind of approving noises as each new element was added, including her beautifully arranged nativity tableau. As she sat one night admiring her handiwork, Annie realised that James was labouring under the misapprehension that quality festive interior design was the norm for her little basement flat. It made her chuckle.
The first fly in the ointment came a week before Christmas. Helen was of course joining them for the big day itself but Annie had been planning an intimate Christmas Eve dinner, just her and James. She hadn’t said as much but menus and handmade centrepieces were starting to take shape in her head.