by L G Dickson
‘I still find it hard to believe she’s really gone. I still go to phone her or think I’m still going to turn up for lunch on a Sunday and then I remember. It’s like being kicked in the stomach every time.’
James stood behind her with his arms round her waist.
‘It’s going to take a while, Annie. That pain, it’ll never go completely but it will lessen and then maybe it’ll be easier to think about the good times. Strange, it’s hit me a bit harder than I thought it would. She was nothing like my own mother but I was very fond of her; she was so direct, straight to the point. Bit brutal sometimes but she did have a good heart.’
This is it, Annie thought. This is the time. She turned round to face him.
‘So tell me about your mother.’ She held him round the waist and looked up into his pale blue eyes.
‘Really? Now?’ His brow furrowed.
‘Yes, I’d like to hear about her.’
‘Well, they’re mostly all good – my memories of her.’
He took a moment to gather his thoughts and as he began to talk about his mother, Annie could feel his body relax.
‘She was very elegant – tall, slim. I was only little but I thought she was beautiful. Never saw her without any makeup on. Always dressed immaculately. I remember her coming up to say goodnight to me before she went out for dinner with my father. She had this long emerald green dress that she wore with a wonderful black jacket that looked as though it was covered in diamonds. She shimmered, sparkled even, and I just thought she looked like a princess but then when I think about it, she really didn’t have to bother with any domestic drudgery. We always had “help” – a cook and a housemaid.’
‘Bloody hell, James.’
‘Yes, I know.’ He looked mildly embarrassed. ‘Anyway, we were together all the time till I went to school. We did lovely things, always going on outings, picnics. At that age she was my world. Perfect really.’
He took Annie’s hand and led her to sit on the one remaining piece of furniture, a small sofa due to be picked up by the British Heart Foundation.
‘The thing I remember most about her is her voice. People say that goes after a while and you really struggle to remember what someone close to you sounded like. I never have. I can close my eyes and still hear that voice – like velvet with a soft Highland burr.’
‘Where was she from?’
‘Grantown on Spey. Descended from the famous Grants of Rothiemurchus.’ He spoke those last words with an exaggerated flourish.
‘Oh my, that sounds terribly grand. What were they all about?’
‘Owned land essentially.’
It occurred to Annie that James’s passion for land reform might have some perverse connection to his landowning ancestors but she didn’t want to explore that just now. She needed to keep him focused. It was the first time he had opened up to her about anything family related.
‘And how old were you when she died?’
‘Nine, I was just nine.’ His eyes dropped, the weight of loss and memory too much. ‘Everything changed after that and I was sent off to boarding school. Gordonstoun.’
‘I’ve heard of it. It’s a pretty brutal regime, isn’t it?’
‘It wasn’t all that bad. It just wasn’t really for me, that’s all.’
Annie swept back a bit of hair behind his ear.
‘Did you lose her suddenly?’
‘She had cancer. She seemed to be in and out of hospital but I didn’t really know what was going on. I think it happened quickly at the end; I’m not sure. I think it did.’ He held her hand, pressing it against his cheek.
‘Must have been awful for you. Losing her when you were so young.’
‘Yes. Yes, it was.’ He took her hand from his face and stood up. ‘Right, come on. This is getting altogether too morose.’
Pressing him when he wanted to shut the conversation down might not help but she carried on in any case.
‘Okay, and what about your father? How did he cope?’
Maybe she’d gone too far. She wasn’t sure.
‘Well, he didn’t really. Kind of withdrew. I guess that’s why I was sent away.’
‘But did you get on with him?’
Suddenly his eyes widened. ‘Why do you need to know all this? One minute we’re talking about Helen and then… look, let’s just say we got on better when I was older. He didn’t really have much time for me during school holidays or anything like that. Come on, let’s go, I’ll need to start heading up the road.’
He held out his hand and pulled her up from the sofa.
‘It’s just you’ve never spoken about your parents. I’d just like to know a bit about them, that’s all.’
His expression softened and he kissed the top of her head.
‘Okay, when we get back to yours. Promise.’
They closed the front door behind them and Annie slowly turned the key in the lock. Suddenly she had left James’s world and was back with her own mother.
‘I don’t know if I’m going to be back here again. The neighbours are going to let the charity people in and then the solicitors are handling all the viewings. I just didn’t think I wanted to be involved.’
She placed her hand on the frosted glass panel in front of her. The now familiar feeling of sadness surged briefly but like a flash flood it receded almost as quickly.
James put his arm round her. ‘Come on. Let’s go home.’
When they got back to the flat James started packing his bag in the bedroom and Annie went to make a pot of coffee to help him stay alert for the long drive north.
Once in the lounge, Annie opened up the parent conversation again. ‘I thought about your dad the other day when I passed Hendersons. Remember when we had our first rather awkward lunch date? You said he was a good friend of that actor. The one with my favourite name.’
‘Moultrie Kelsall.’
‘Yes. What a name. Still makes me smile.’ She hoped her expression might make him relax into full disclosure. It seemed to work.
‘Have you heard of Kerr and Boyd?’
‘Kerr and Boyd? They’re publishers, aren’t they?’ Annie put her coffee down on the small side table and then just as she assimilated that tiny snippet of information, ‘What, he was the Kerr?’
James kept his hands resolutely wrapped round his cup. ‘Yes, he was the Kerr. For a long time they were the publishing house in Scotland. My father and my grandfather that is, before they were bought out by one of the big London names.’
‘Wow, that’s impressive. Wish I’d asked sooner.’
‘Really?’ His reaction was devoid of any emotion.
‘Well, I think it’s impressive. Were you involved at all? If it was a family business, I mean.’
‘No, I wasn’t. Father made no secret that he wanted me there but it just didn’t interest me – that whole world. I wouldn’t know what makes a good author or a good book. He seemed to have a nose for what would sell – I wouldn’t have had a clue. I know if I’d shown any kind of interest he would have tried to hang onto the business but in the end I think he kind of gave in.’ He looked down at the floor. ‘I didn’t care then but as I’ve got older I wish I’d done something. Made the effort to work with him even if at the end of the day it hadn’t worked out and we were bought over anyway. Instead I did my own thing, which is fine I guess, but I’ve lived off his wealth; reaped the rewards. I’ve taken the money and done absolutely nothing for it. When he died it all just fell into my lap and I couldn’t even be bothered to raise a finger to help him when he wanted me to.’
Finally, he was bearing his soul to her and for the first time she put her arm round his shoulder.
‘Oh, James, it’s only natural that he would have wanted you to join him – I guess that’s what happens in family busines
ses. In the end everyone has to carve out their own path in life and that’s what you’ve done. I’m sure he would have wanted you to do what made you happy. I’m sure he would have been proud of what you’re doing right now.’
It suddenly struck her how alike James and Duncan were. Perceived dereliction of duty weighed heavily on them both – just in different ways.
‘Don’t you see, Annie, it’s almost worse. He never forced me to do anything. He supported my choices but all the time I knew he was disappointed. I’ve begun to understand a bit of what Duncan’s been going through, you know. Don’t get me wrong, my father was the polar opposite of Strachan but still, the expectations and not meeting them…’
So he saw it too. She rested her head on his shoulder. They were both good men, striving to make their mark, needing to do something meaningful and although they might not recognise it, still struggling to be good enough in their fathers’ eyes.
It was a slow, arduous process but she was starting to better understand his character. The events, the places and the people that shaped him. It was important to her. He was opening up his heart and when she looked she saw a little bit deeper into his psyche. Some things she wouldn’t understand, actions or reactions she couldn’t fathom but her feelings for him only grew. Every new thing she discovered confirmed that, despite his flaws, she had found in James a man who helped her see things – often new things or just the same things differently. Everything felt brighter, sharper when she was with him. There were rough edges, plenty of them, but he was the right man; the right man for her.
CHAPTER 10
Over spring and the early part of summer they worked their way to a settled routine of reciprocal visits. The weather had been good and longer days made travelling easier. The contrast in pace of life between her two homes could not have been starker. Her time in Assynt was unhurried and tranquil; in Edinburgh it was timetabled and carefully costed. Her city life also meant living every moment, along with Virginia, of Kirsty’s pregnancy.
‘I find I can’t walk past a jar of Marmite’, was a favourite behavioural oddity that baby Drummond seemed to induce and which made Annie wonder precisely how many jars of Marmite Kirsty encountered in everyday life. There were daily progress reports once she had emerged from all day morning sickness into blossoming pregnancy but it was, in Virginia’s words, ‘all good’. After a shaky start, Kirsty faced pregnancy with the same vigorous enthusiasm she had once reserved for equestrian point to point or a competitive game of hockey.
As for leaving the city, Kirsty had resolutely told Duncan that she couldn’t possibly consider a move to Drummond House before baby was born and that seemed to suit everyone concerned. Lachlan was going to postpone any move to New Zealand until after the birth and Duncan was going to test the water with his father on taking up the reins of the business. He had persuaded Kirsty that he would drop any plans if he thought Strachan would interfere in any significant way, but given his father’s health he was convinced that wouldn’t be an issue. Annie knew Kirsty wasn’t so sure.
*
It was a hard letter to write.
Annie sat at the writing desk, now cleared of James’s forms and plans, looking out at the terrace and across to her neighbours’ back garden. A cherry tree stood heavily in bloom; small clumps of blossom, the hue of sticky marshmallow, covered every bough. Sometime in the next few days, perhaps even sooner, should there be anything approaching a strong gust of wind, the petals would fall like pale pink snowflakes.
Spring planting. She hadn’t even thought about spring planting. Some marigolds, pansies perhaps, although they could be a bit hit and miss. Her eyes swept round to the back of the garden. The privet hedge at the back needed a trim. Gordon normally did that for her and advised her on composting. Same thing every year and not once had she listened to anything he said.
Annie pushed her chair back and pulled out the narrow little drawer at the front of the desk. She lifted out the photograph of her baby brother and placed it by her writing pad. Taking a deep breath she clicked the end of her pen and began.
It was a hard letter to write.
*
Weeks passed and Annie heard nothing. She played over and over in her head the phrases, the words, the tone used. Reaching out and showing empathy. That’s what she had striven for but perhaps Céline just didn’t want to reciprocate. Perhaps she had created a new world for her son; perhaps with a new father; perhaps there could be no turning back the clock. No intrusion from one life into another. As Annie mulled over all the possibilities, her anxiety grew. However much she’d tried not to want this, she knew she was clinging to the hope that she could connect to someone, someone with a sense of shared heritage. Someone who could help keep her father’s memory alive and with her. How could she have let this build up to the point where she was distraught at the prospect of not meeting him; not being able to plan a life with him in it? James was right. It obviously wasn’t going to pan out as she’d expected.
Spring gently sidled up to summer and as the trees burst forth into full leaf, the sun began to exert some real warmth and the last vestiges of early morning frost soon receded. Blankets were discarded from beds, central heating was turned off and Kirsty was starting to blossom, not that she necessarily saw it that way.
‘I’m going to have to start buying some of these bloody awful maternity sacks soon.’ Kirsty was lounging back, legs splayed and with an oversized sun hat covering most of her face. They were sitting outside Café Florentine on a beautiful Saturday morning. The sun was already splitting the sky at ten o’clock and everyone was sporting short sleeves and summer shorts or skirts. It always tickled Annie to see bemused tourists staring at all the freckled, milk-bottled limbs on display as they steadfastly stuck to wearing woolly jumpers and jackets. After all, hot in Edinburgh might be bordering on mild in Madrid.
‘When does James come back? For good, I mean.’ Virginia’s floral skirt was pulled up to her knees and her blouse was unbuttoned as far as the top of her bra. She was determined to absorb as much vitamin D as possible and didn’t much mind what the local residents thought of her state of dress. She leaned across the table, lifting her sunglasses on to the top of her head giving her friends an unrestricted view of ample cleavage.
‘Good God, Gin, put the puppies away. Poor Annie is going to feel awfully inadequate what with my paps swelling up to a ridiculous size now too.’
Annie laughed. What an altogether dishevelled little group they were. The weekday facade of smart professional women had disappeared overnight.
‘Yes, well, I’m certainly in the lower divisions compared to your premier league assets, girls. As for James, well he should be back by the end of next month.’
‘What’s he going to do?’ Virginia asked while munching down a warm croissant, flakes of which had now stuck to her exposed chest.
‘Well, he’s going to join an environmental agency as a consultant.’ Annie shifted slightly in her seat. ‘So he’s quite excited about that.’
‘What does that mean?’ Kirsty screwed up her face and Annie wasn’t sure if it was because of the sun or James’s career choice.
‘Why don’t you ask him when he’s next back? He’ll be able to give you a far more sensible answer than I can.’ Annie shut her eyes to take in the sun’s rays and to signal an end to questioning about James.
Virginia missed the signal. ‘Well, I think that’s great. He’s such a clever chap you know, Annie. So knowledgeable and he’s really done so much to help with that land buy-out up north. There must be loads more he can do.’
‘Thanks, Gin.’ Annie kept her eyes shut. ‘I worry he’s a bit of a lost soul at the moment but if he can get his teeth into something with this agency then hopefully it’ll all be good.’
‘What about Switzerland, any news on that front?’ Kirsty being characteristically direct.
‘I’v
e just written to Céline actually, just the other day.’ Well, that was an out and out lie, she thought to herself. It had been weeks and no word back. ‘So, we’ll just leave that and see where we get to. She may have moved on of course.’ Annie was thinking emotionally as well as physically.
‘And you’re okay? If you don’t hear anything, I mean.’ Virginia sounded concerned.
‘Yes, I think so.’ It was another lie but she wanted to seem detached. ‘We’ll see. No point worrying until I hear back, or not as the case may be.’
Annie trundled back to the flat carrying bits and bobs for a nice summer salad later that evening. She turned the key in the door and heard Ludovic’s familiar welcoming meow before he suddenly appeared looking for the tasty morsel his mistress had surely brought back for him. He raced back to the kitchen to sit in nonchalant anticipation. Annie picked up the pile of takeaway menus from the doormat and an exhibition brochure from the local art gallery before walking through to the lounge. Dropping the pile of papers onto the sofa, she passed through to the kitchen. Ludovic watched as shopping was emptied from bag into fridge. Nothing. Disappointed yet again, he slunk back to the lounge to resume his lookout position at the French windows.
Annie poured a large glass of cool water before returning to the lounge.
A white envelope. There on the floor. Slipped out from the little heap of junk mail. Probably a bill. Electricity was due but then so was the credit card. Charity begging letter perhaps. Money urgently needed to save donkeys in Spain or dogs in Italy.
Her heart beat faster and thoughts raced as she bent to pick it up. Just a plain white envelope, nothing extraordinary, nothing to differentiate it from any other piece of everyday mail. She quickly turned it over to reveal the Helvetia postmark. Nothing extraordinary – only the stamp that connected her to a past life and now perhaps to a new future.
*
‘Hi Gin, it’s me, Annie. What are you up to tonight?’