by L G Dickson
‘My shoulder’s still aching, darling. Just about ripped the thing from its socket. And that poor little woman – Céline’s sister, I think. She looked positively terrified at Strip the Willow, every time you thundered towards her.’ Kirsty was wedged under Duncan’s arm and resting her drink on his paunch.
‘Well, you shouldn’t get up for a fling if you’re not prepared to throw yourself into it, I say,’ Duncan’s dark red cheeks a testament to his physical exertions and overconsumption of the water of life.
Annie wearily lifted her head. ‘Right, that’s me. I’m off. Too old for all day celebrations.’ She kissed James on the forehead. ‘Coming?’
He stretched his arms up behind his shoulders. ‘Yup. We’ve got a mountain to climb tomorrow.’
‘You’ve got a what?’
‘The boys are climbing Schiehallion tomorrow,’ Duncan boomed.
‘Well, climbing is a bit of an exaggeration. It’s a pretty well-worn path to the summit. Done it lots of times when I was a lad.’ James smiled at her.
‘Yes, but look at you all. You’re hardly lads now and Gordon looks as though he might struggle to climb into bed never mind a Munro.’
Duncan unceremoniously prised Kirsty from under his arm and staggered towards Gordon. ‘Come on, Gordy, look lively. Up early tomorrow to go Munro bagging.’ The poor man, rudely roused from his torpor, looked round to see where he was and then fell back into the folds of Virginia’s long tartan skirt.
‘Oh God, really?’ He sounded none too enthused at the prospect.
The next morning, fortified by one of Duncan’s legendary fry-ups, the three men stood in the hallway, a tired and slightly bedraggled sight. They wore an assortment of outdoor gear, some of which looked as though it might have survived the Everest expedition with Hillary, while other highly coloured and very shiny pieces of apparel shouted out their newness. Most of James’s outfit, courtesy of Helen, fell somewhere in between, although the sheen was coming off some of the more well-worn items. Suddenly the massive front door swung open and there stood Lachlan, looking like Action Man. Annie’s view of the expedition had softened slightly once she knew that the athletic and very capable Lachlan was accompanying the motley crew.
‘Right, guys, let’s go.’ Lachlan picked up their rucksacks and headed back out as quickly as he’d come in.
‘How long will you be?’ Annie looked into James’s pale blue eyes and noticed a dullness to them now, their shine tarnished by a day and night of excess. He pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head.
‘Should be about four hours up and down. See you about teatime.’ His lips brushed across the top of her head.
She moved back from him but kept her arms round his waist. He smiled at her and his eyes shone again, just for a moment.
*
At first there were multiple layers of noise. Incessant and varied. Small quiet sobs to loud cries of anguish and everything else in between. Somebody sounded very officious. He was in bright yellow and was talking at her but he was blinding her with his bright yellow. He needed to stand back, far away from her. Some were sitting, others standing right in front of her, beckoning her to sit down. She tried to shut them out but they just wouldn’t stop. At the boulder fields near the summit someone was saying. No warning. Crumpled to the ground. Crumpled. She remembered that was how he looked when she first saw him. Crumpled. But then his face, his smile and his eyes, his beautiful eyes. She wanted them all to be quiet so she could just sit down and see him in front of her; the blueness of his eyes. They made so much noise she couldn’t hear him. Why wouldn’t they be quiet so she could just hear him? Or just stand back, just a bit so she could see him. The blueness of his eyes. His beautiful eyes.
It was Virginia’s arm that went round her shoulders. She was starting to shiver and her friend’s gesture momentarily made her stop. She stood rigid, unwilling to let herself fall into the comfort of her friends. Someone talked about driving Annie to the hospital. Couldn’t be Duncan, he was a mess. Couldn’t be Gordon, he was sitting with his head buried in his hands. Kirsty was on the floor crying, retching. Maybe it was Lachlan or was it the policeman? She really didn’t know. She just wanted them all to go away. He wasn’t there so why drive all the way to the hospital? If they just all went away, taking their crying and loud talking with them, it would be quiet enough. Then he would see her and come back. She knew he would.
*
Finally she answered her phone. It had droned on long enough. Kirsty and Virginia were coming round whether she wanted them to or not and it was probably time to let them in.
Annie had endured the last few weeks in a daze. Céline, Hugo and Sofia had all been there, her brother far more traumatised than she had thought possible. Duncan and Gordon pored over every step of the trek up the hill desperately looking for any sign that they may have missed. It was agony to watch them but nothing she nor Kirsty nor Virginia could say stopped them dissecting and analysing those last few hours. It was nobody’s fault. Not theirs, not the hill’s. An undetected heart abnormality was the cold clinical explanation. Could have happened with anyone beside him or with no one beside him and at any time in his life.
Heart abnormality. There was nothing abnormal about his heart. Nothing at all.
Everyone rallied round to help her arrange the funeral. A funeral that seemed to belong to someone else, not to her, not to James. There were so many people she didn’t know from the worlds of government, publishing and even the crofting communities that he had worked with or spent time with while researching his book. The closed little world that she inhabited with James took up no more than a couple of pews. She knew that hundreds of strange pairs of eyes were trained upon her but her little protective band insulated her from their stares.
In the days afterwards she felt a strange compunction to pull everything out of cupboards, away from walls, out of drawers. Anything that belonged to him, which might smell of him, that might just bring back the sense of him. This was the sight that greeted her friends when they finally gained access to the world she desperately wanted to protect. They said nothing but huddled together on the floor of the lounge and cried unremitting tears. The release was overdue and it left her exhausted and drained. After an age, Virginia heaved herself up and off to the kitchen to make tea.
‘Why don’t you come with me – today? We can pack a bag and you can come up to Drummond House for a few days. Just to be with people.’
Annie looked at Kirsty’s tear-stained face and managed a faint smile but couldn’t speak.
‘We just don’t think it’s terribly good for you. Being here, I mean. Some time away and you might feel stronger, more able to deal with all of this.’ Kirsty looked at the piles all around covering the floor, the sofa, the tabletops, and then took Annie’s hand in hers.
‘I can’t really, Kirst. Sorry. There’s Ludovic and he’s so old now – I’m sorry, I just couldn’t leave him.’
These were the words but it wasn’t what she meant. Not really. How could they ask her to leave? He wouldn’t know where to find her. Just when he needed her most, he wouldn’t be able to find her. His pain, his agony, made all the worse because she wasn’t there. How could she make him suffer like that? How could her friends imagine for a second that she could do that to him?
Kirsty and Virginia left defeated but undeterred. They continued to watch over Annie, hovering on the periphery of her sadness. They waited, kindly, benignly in the wings. There were no grand gestures, no more offers to take her away or move in with her for a period. It was almost as if they knew to wait until she was ready to re-join the world.
She wasn’t sure when the transition happened. It took its own time but gradually the solid weight of her sadness began to shift and the desperate need to keep things as they were began to dissipate. She began to think more clearly. A plan was needed, a new course to be c
harted, but one she would need to steer alone. This time there was no one to help take the tiller. Thoughts began to crystallise, decisions began to take shape.
CHAPTER 17
She chose the cream silk blouse with the tie bow at the front and the black Austin Reed suit with the thin pinstripe. Makeup was carefully applied and her nails painted with her favourite Chanel taupe enamel.
She walked up the sweeping Georgian thoroughfare of Circus Place to the offices of Evergreen in Howe Street. Her appointment was at 2pm and she arrived with one minute to spare. As she opened the pale green outer door into the small vestibule she could see the portly figure of Jack Chalmers through the frosted glass talking to someone, a man perhaps, sitting behind a desk. He turned as she walked in, took one giant step towards her and gave her an almighty bear hug.
‘Oh, Annie. It’s lovely to see you. How are you?’ He let her loose from his embrace and stood holding her hands.
‘Well, I don’t really know how I am, Jack, not really, but I am starting to think about things now. About trying to move forward.’ Even as she said the words, it happened again. The sheer pain of it all ripped through her and she had to stop talking to catch her breath.
‘I still can’t believe it, my dear. None of us can. Murray here was working with James on final revisions to his book and, well, we’re all just devastated.’
She looked round at the young man behind the desk who sat looking up at her with great brown eyes filled with tears. He stood up, walked round the desk and offered his hand in greeting.
‘I’m so sorry, Miss Anderson, really sorry. He was a fine man. Inspirational really and I learnt so much from him. We were so close, so close to finishing his book.’ He looked down at the floor, his mop of brown hair falling over his eyes.
Annie held on to his hand tightly. ‘Thank you, Murray, thank you for that. And please call me Annie.’ He looked up at her, blinked a tear and smiled.
Well, there you go. Surnames for first names wasn’t such a bad concept after all.
She sat in Jack’s office holding a mug of coffee, looking all around her. Books, papers, files covered every surface.
‘So, Annie. What can we do for you? As I said on the phone, door’s always open if you need anything, you know that.’
‘Yes, Jack, thanks. I do. But actually I was wondering if I might be able to do something for you. You see I’ve resigned from Saunders and MacKay. I hadn’t really been happy there for some time – even before James.’ Her voice trailed off as she spoke his name, the piercing pain quick to return. Once more she took a deep breath. ‘You see, the thing is, I know what makes a business profitable and I know, well, we talked, James and I, about how much Evergreen was struggling just to stay afloat. And then there’s the book of course. I would really like to work with you, or perhaps Murray now, to see it finalised and get it published.’
Jack’s grey bushy eyebrows raised up as he pursed his lips. Annie couldn’t be sure what was about to come next.
‘Well, that’s grand, Annie, but really I have nothing of any kind of a salaried nature to offer. After James was elected he forewent his salary here, so we could just about stay in business.’
She put down her coffee mug and clasped her hands tightly. ‘I know, Jack, but James made me the sole beneficiary of his estate. I’m selling his flat in Great King Street and there’s other money, inherited money from his father, that I can invest. If it really doesn’t work out I’ll go back to plying my trade as a lawyer but I really want to do this and I think I can really make a difference. I know how much Evergreen means to you and how much it meant to James.’
She couldn’t remember feeling this sure or confident about anything before in her life and she knew Jack wouldn’t be able to resist her offer. They reached an agreement in principle, with Annie promising to submit a more detailed proposal in the next couple of weeks.
The following week she gathered her friends round to Dean Terrace. They were a sombre little band but they managed a few smiles and the odd laugh at Kirsty’s tales of ‘infiltrating’ the local branch of the WI.
‘I’m trying to steer them away from the whole jam and chutney thing and get them to focus on what really matters to rural communities. I mean, our little village is suffering death by a thousand cuts. Shops closing down, young people moving away. I want to get the ladies marching, campaigning.’
Annie couldn’t believe her ears. Kirsty was suddenly getting all political. But then maybe that’s all politics was – using what we have to make the communities we live in, large or small, work and flourish.
Kirsty sat on the floor, leaning against Duncan’s chair with her customary large glass of Sauvignon in hand. ‘Don’t laugh, peeps. I think this is where it’s at. People have to care about where they live, how they live – no one else is going to.’
Annie seized her moment. ‘Well, in that vein, but on a much smaller scale, I’m going to be moving from Dean Terrace.’
The assembled throng sat bolt upright from their slouching positions and stared at her.
‘I think it’s time. I’ve put an offer in for a place down at Cramond. It’s lovely, looking out over all the little boats to the Rosebery Estate. I just love the sounds and the smells down there. You know, the clanking masts, the sea.’ She looked round at them all but nobody said anything. Annie knew what was going through their minds. She was a New Town girl, what on earth was she thinking?
‘I went there a lot with Dad and of course James and I – well, James and I loved it too.’ She felt the cat nuzzle into the back of her head as he lay sprawled along the back of the sofa. ‘I just think it’s time.’
Virginia was sitting beside her and quietly slipped her arm round her friend.
‘Well, nights out at the Cramond Inn. Not too shabby, I say.’ Duncan held up his glass and beamed across the room at her.
Knowing the vagaries of the Scottish conveyancing system, Annie resolved not to be too disappointed if her offer was rejected. A closing date had been set and they were going to sealed bids. The allotted time of twelve noon came and went and Annie decided that Rose Cottage was not to be. She would just need to keep looking. As she busied herself in the kitchen, the phone rang. She looked up at the clock – it was almost two thirty. Heart racing, she ran through to the lounge and snatched up the receiver. It was Scott from the conveyancing section of Saunders and MacKay.
‘Well, Annie, congratulations. You are now the proud owner of a lovely little whitewashed cottage at the mouth of the River Almond.’
Annie’s hand tightened around the receiver. She felt relieved rather than elated but also sad – sad that he would never know this place.
‘Thank you, Scott, thank you.’ She managed to say the words without her voice breaking, replaced the receiver, composed herself and began to think about the next thing.
She laid James’s brochures and maps out on the floor. The sun would be shining, there was amazing cuisine on offer and spectacular scenery to behold. She looked at it all but none of it mattered. She might enjoy the company of her fellow travellers and she knew the food would be good but all that mattered was that she got to the gardens at Villa Taranto.
‘Seriously, Annie. You’re going to go on your own? Why not wait a few weeks and I’ll come with you or even better come with me and Duncan out to Portugal.’
She hadn’t expected that. Much as she loved them, Annie knew she wasn’t ready for a fortnight in the sun with the Drummonds. She was round at Virginia’s setting out her plans to the girls and being fortified by herbal brews and homemade cranberry and oatmeal cookies.
‘No honestly, Kirst, it’s fine. I really want to do this. I can’t believe I’ve never actually travelled abroad on my own before. I mean, not really. When I went to visit Dad he would meet me at the other end and I knew exactly what I was travelling to.’ She sat back, feeling the soft c
rocheted fabric at the back of her head. The room was full of Virginia’s knitted creations.
‘Well, I think if it’s what you need…’ Virginia poured out another cup of lemon balm tea.
‘What exactly does this stuff do, Gin?’ Kirsty lifted up her cup and screwed up her face.
Virginia swept back a few grey ringlets from her face. ‘Soothes the soul, Kirst. Soothes the soul.’
*
As the taxi driver drew up to Hotel Gardini, Annie suddenly felt anxious. Small beads of sweat appeared on her top lip and she could feel her heart race. Maybe she could just turn round and go back. The driver would be okay with that, glad of a return fare to the airport. But then suddenly they had stopped and the driver was out, quick as a flash, getting her bag from the boot of the car. She looked out the window and could see the bottom half of a black skirt, black stockings and flat black shoes. The driver opened the door for her and she stepped out, thanking him in Italian. He smiled and she shook his hand, transferring the fare to him at the same time. Madame was waiting with outstretched hands.
‘Good afternoon, my dear.’ Madame Gardini seemed smaller now, hair greyer, as she stood slightly hunched at the entrance to her dominion. ‘How was your journey?’
‘It was fine, thank you.’ Annie felt the old woman’s hands warmly envelope hers and the feelings of panic subsided.
‘Come come, we have your lovely room for you, right at the front of the hotel overlooking the lake.’
‘Oh, Madame, it’s only for two days. A small room at the back would have been fine. It’s just me after all.’
‘I know but I think you are happier in this room.’ She took Annie by the arm and led her through the hotel. ‘I think you need to be in this room.’
After unpacking she sat for a while on the balcony looking out over the sharp azure of the lake, mirroring the sky perfectly. Madame Gardini had been right. She felt comfortable, at peace here.