The One and Only

by Doris E. Smith

  Predictably, it was a very clean car, as shiny inside as out and with the smell of new leather. And it went like a bird, its great silver wings hovering over the road.

  The driver was as smooth as ever; the polish on his shoes gleamed up at her, the hands on the wheel were as clean as the speckless dashboard, a gold ring shone on one finger. He was that dangerous combination, a pillar of society and a man attractive to women. His marriage had been for love and had given him a son, so next time his emotions need not be engaged. Troy was a pawn in the game and would be taken by fair means or foul.

  ‘What part of Aberdeen?’ he enquired as they approached Union Street.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I just want to look round. There’s nothing doing at the stables, Kelly’s out to tea and Rob wants to be alone.’

  A smile curved the heavy lips. ‘You don’t seem bothered?’

  ‘Not in the least. I’m a refugee a lot of the time myself.’

  ‘You? Astonishment widened the green eyes.

  ‘Me. Why do you look surprised?’

  ‘Why? Because of what I’ve just heard. I mean—it’s absurd. You...’ He stopped.

  ‘Come on, please,’ Maggie bade. Not being involved with Angus, she was enjoying this. He was stimulating even when he made her mad. And today she was not mad. She was at her most clearheaded.

  ‘You are the biggest extrovert it’s ever been my lot to meet. You fly to people, most of us fly away from them.’ There was a pause. The green eyes for obvious reasons had not turned away from the road. Maggie saw the left one and it struck her as being a tender thing. The thought was silly and a wave of heat swept through her.

  ‘My wife was pretty outgoing,’ Angus said. ‘But even she wasn’t in your class. You do it like breathing.’

  ‘And people feel they’re under attack and run away from me? Come on, say it. It’s what you think,’ Maggie challenged. There was nothing between them that could be lost or retrieved. Truth was perfectly safe.

  ‘I’ll say this. You’re a know-all. Personally I saw no one running away the other night.’ He waited a second. ‘So what’s on the programme for this afternoon?’

  ‘I thought I’d look round the harbour.’

  He too was a know-all. It wasn’t the best time. The netters went out at night or in the early morning, except of course on Sunday when the fishermen would not go out before midday. Besides, it would be cold.

  ‘I’ve a better idea. Come to the pictures with me.’ He grinned. ‘I’m having a day off too. It was a quarter to four this morning when I got home.’ He had been to Hawick, he said simply, to see that firm ‘we’re having dialogue with.’ There had been some pretty exhausting discussions and he wanted to clear his brain. ‘I’m quite a film fan, would you believe.’

  She supposed she would if he said so. She was also quite sure it would not be her kind of film. War or espionage at a guess. And she doubted if she’d have a choice in the bill of fare. Nor had she.

  ‘I’m going to see South Pacific. It’s a reissue. Have you seen it?’

  ‘Yes.’ She had seen it years ago and adored it, and how extraordinary he should mention it when since Wednesday Some Enchanted Evening had refused to leave her head. ‘Haven’t you?’

  ‘Three times. That’s what I mean,’ he said seriously. ‘Now it’s a sort of—experience. I know what’s coming next so I can concentrate on the pattern. Like in a concerto. Are you fond of music?’

  ‘I could be if I had time.’

  It seemed to amuse. ‘You see. What did I tell you? There’s only one thing for it, Maggie Campbell, I shall have to take you in hand.’ As though on cue the car slowed up and stopped.

  Maggie watched uncertainly as the driver got out, went to the boot and extracted a shabby vacuum cleaner. ‘What’s that?’ she ventured, opening her door.

  ‘It’s another thing you probably don’t have time for,’ Angus informed her, grinning. ‘It cleans the house.’

  He was taking the cleaner in to be serviced. ‘It’s a long time since I bought it,’ he confided, and this was evident, and surprising since most other things in Strathyre were new and plushy. ‘But the motor is good and I don’t really want to let it go.’

  The ensuing conversation with the servicing firm about threads on the carpet aroused idiotic conjectures. Who in Strathyre threaded needles? Who sewed on buttons? Who ran the vintage cleaner over the soft dense carpets? Mrs. Kerr or the man who was explaining it so meticulously?

  South Pacific had over the years lost nothing of its appeal; in fact it seemed more colourful and its songs more poignant. Angus hummed them and tapped his toe. In the interval he bought ice-cream and grinned as he spooned it up. As they made their way out to the street again he whistled Younger Than Springtime.

  It was uncannily apt. Some years ago there had been songs to sing and corners to stand at in the summer dusk. Lately they’d seemed like a dream. But today had just that feel. Few things were younger than the pictures in the afternoon. The old steam magic of childhood was all about her, the sunny street was quite unreal, she was on an island in the Pacific and music was ringing in her ears.

  ‘Oh, wake me up,’ she said, shaking her head. ‘I feel younger than January!’

  ‘I’m younger again,’ her companion returned gravely. ‘I’m minus!’

  A trill of music went unconcernedly skywards.

  Graham, like Kelly was attending to his social life.

  ‘You’ve time for a bite,’ Angus announced as they reached Strathyre. It was statement rather than invitation. ‘Here, you can help me cook it,’ he added, and tossed her an apron.

  The prospect was overpowering. ‘I’d like to, of course, but I’m afraid I’m not up to your standard.’

  ‘I know that.’ It seemed his mind’s eye had shown him the brown bread, baked beans and sausages on which she had intended to sup. ‘I’m going to show you.’ His coat came off and a red butcher’s apron went over his check shirt.

  There was a sweet-’n-sour salad with apple, orange and grated cheese, followed by kebabs of lamb, melba toast and a pot of strong-flavoured tea. The food was divided painstakingly into two equal portions and Maggie was instructed to eat up.

  ‘Don’t let me see you leave any. There’s no sense in waste.’

  He seemed to say it automatically, so she guessed it was a rule of the house, something perhaps on which he and Jean together had started their small son and with which he’d continued on his own. It would be like Angus to stick to a principle and also to hide his own grief. His son, his work and his home would always be attended to first.

  She jumped up abruptly from the table and suggested they do the dishes.

  When these were finished it seemed the cue for departure, but again she was overruled. ‘You’re off duty till Kelly comes, I thought we’d decided that. So sit down. We’ll hear the car. It has to stop outside.’

  ‘Oh, but I’m sure you’ve had enough of me,’ Maggie began.

  ‘It’s all right, I’ve a strong head.’ His tone altered. ‘I’m glad to have you. Sometimes one gets too much of one’s own company.’

  ‘I know.’

  He glanced at her and went on talking. ‘I’m not complaining. Graham must have his own friends. I’m really delighted that he does mix. He used to be far too much with me.’ Maggie, listening and watching the face that seemed to look at her so intimately, hardly noticed that he had gravitated to the piano stool.

  ‘You’re proud of him. You’ve every right to be.’

  He coloured boyishly. ‘I hope it doesn’t show.’

  ‘It’s quite justified. You did the work.’

  ‘No, no, don’t put it like that. I was lucky.’ His hands had been resting on the keys. They ran away suddenly into music.

  Maggie had no idea what she was hearing. It was certainly not pop, but it was more tuneful and a great deal easier than her notions of classical music. It had, she discovered, the power to merge supportingly with her thoughts. ‘What is that?’
she asked.

  ‘It’s the start of your musical education. The third movement of the Italian Concerto.’ He was no mean pianist and, as he went deeper and deeper in, his absorption became apparent. She watched the sway of his shoulders, the rise and fall of his wrists and most of all his expression. It was wiped clean, young and happy.

  Next morning she was hand rubbing Kincardine’s legs when she heard footsteps outside the box. ‘Anyone there?’ Angus’s voice enquired.

  ‘Just me,’ Maggie called back. Saturday morning when she could go out exercising with Rob was the high spot of Kelly’s week. ‘In here,’ she added, waving a hand.

  His face over the door was not encouraging. Unsmiling, even worried looking, it bore no resemblance to the face she had watched yesterday at the piano. ‘I want to talk to you,’ he said bluntly. ‘Can you listen?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’ One leg was done, she moved to the next. When no sound came from above she tilted her head back and looked up.

  ‘That’s better,’ Angus remarked sourly. ‘It’s a little more important than the horse’s leg.’

  The leopard had not changed his spots. She supposed it had been foolish to think otherwise. One swallow, after all, did not make a summer.

  ‘I’ve said I’ll listen. I will,’ she said tartly. ‘Just now I can’t stop. I’m working against the clock. It takes an hour to do a horse properly and this is our peak day.’

  ‘Then why worry Troy about increasing the stock?’

  ‘I didn’t. I put it to her—’ she checked. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘Last night she rang me.’ He leaned on the door. ‘Look, Maggie, I don’t want to sound unreasonable, but I do have enough on my plate without sorting out stable problems as well.’

  ‘And I don’t want to sound unreasonable, but who asked you to?’

  ‘I’ve told you—Troy did.’ He sighed. ‘So what is it? This Irish pony again?’

  It was not a promising beginning, but at least Angus had seen Cream Cracker perform and, irksome as he apparently found his position, at least he listened intelligently to her points.

  ‘You’ve thought this through,’ he commented.

  ‘That’s my job.’

  ‘You’d need more labour. That’s going to put your costs up,’

  ‘Not all at once. We’re approaching the quiet season. I think we could manage a few more as we are. Rob’s unique, you see; he works all hours. He likes to. And so do I.’ This went without the quip she’d expected. Instead, Angus asked what the position would be next summer. She explained the plans she had—half or whole day treks, children’s ponies, advertising, part-time help.

  ‘That wasn’t what I meant. I meant you. Won’t you be married by then and away?’

  No one would believe that she could forget the fact and yet more than once she had. Her mind ran ahead and she had to remember sharply that Derek would certainly not wait indefinitely.

  ‘Well, I—yes, I suppose so. But I could brief my successor.’

  ‘I hope there won’t be one. I want this place closed. I told you that.’

  ‘Then why bother to talk about it?’ Maggie flashed. ‘Anyway, these plans are all in the air. The only thing I wanted a decision on right away was permission to bring Cream Cracker here on livery.’

  ‘Because Kelly cries for it?’

  ‘Is that a crime?’ How dared he sound so critical! It was obvious Graham wanted for nothing. Why should Kelly have to stay in a box labelled ‘Have Not’? Before she knew where she was she’d said so, or at least used words to that effect. ‘Calm down,’ he interposed. She took no notice. ‘Kelly’s not as fortunate as Graham. She’s lost both parents and she’s marked. The pony was the one thing she had—well, at least thought she had. My friends...’

  ‘Yes, yes, I know about Kelly,’ he raised his voice impatiently. ‘And I agree she is unfortunate. Graham has a father who’d cut his right arm off rather than deny him the chance to grow up. You say Rob sees Kelly having her cry out, have you ever seen her?’ As Maggie’s head shook he went on remorselessly: ‘Whiles after his mother died I knew Graham was doing the same, whiles he’d let me in, more often it was something he had to take on his own—as I had. You’d take even that away, wouldn’t you?’

  ‘Have you quite finished?’ Maggie asked icily.

  ‘No. Tell me how much they’re asking.’

  ‘For Cream Cracker?’ It was a surprise question. ‘I’m not sure. Around two-fifty, I think.’

  ‘Have you got it?’

  ‘Just about.’ It represented her savings, but at the time nothing had counted except Kelly’s tears. ‘In the sock!’ she added with an attempt at levity.

  ‘In the sock,’ he repeated heavily. ‘I’ve got a sock myself.’ She could bet he had a drawerful. ‘It’s for a rainy day, not for squandering on a whim. Surely you can see how feckless...’

  ‘I can’t,’ she said it the more forcibly because it was not true. ‘But I don’t need a lecture. One word was all I asked Troy for. I gather it’s no. I can’t keep Cream Cracker under the bed, so I’ve got to accept it. But I’ll tell you this, as a businessman you’ve made the wrong decision. I wanted Cream Cracker for the stables as much as for Kelly.’

  ‘Did you?’ The eyes were narrow and thoughtful. ‘Then perhaps you’ll let me say what I came for. Graham has a birthday next month. I’m prepared to buy the pony for him.’

  ‘Graham?’ Astonishing as it was, it fitted the pattern. Only the best for Graham and the best of everything. ‘But Graham doesn’t ride.’

  ‘He can learn. I’ll pay you for his lessons. I’m satisfied you know what you’re doing and I want him out of doors more at weekends. He’s too inclined to keep his nose in a book.’ He looked directly at her mutinous face. ‘For goodness’ sake, aren’t you pleased? You’ll have the pony at no cost. I expect Graham will be quite reasonable about it being used.’

  All Maggie could feel was loss and injury. It engulfed her. They had so much, these two, and Angus was so condescending about it. He seemed to take everything as Graham’s due. Childish or not, she rebelled.

  ‘It’s not what I wanted. You know that. I wanted Kelly to have just one thing...’ Horrifyingly her voice had quivered. She looked away. He did not miss the movement. She thought he murmured uncertainly: ‘Oh, here...’ but she did not look round.

  The voice came hardly. ‘How do you think Derek Grant will like being lumbered with a pony?’

  ‘That’s none of your business.’

  ‘Someone has to save you from yourself.’

  She didn’t answer. She was tired with anger and the uneasy certainty that Derek agreed with him.

  ‘So what’s it to be?’ he demanded. ‘Do you want the animal or don’t you?’

  ‘Does that matter? I’ve lost.’ She kept her voice steady with an effort. ‘If he’s here I’ll see he’s looked after. It will probably break Kelly’s heart, but I can’t speak for her.’ She busied herself studiedly with Kincardine’s bridle. It saved her from meeting his eyes.

  ‘You can’t,’ he said briefly. ‘Thank God you realise it at last. But I don’t want to force you. I can see you’re emotional. So in one way I will leave it to you. Send Kelly to me if you want it discussed further. I’ll be in till around three. Otherwise, that’s an end to it. I’ll do nothing.’

  She jerked her head incredulously, but he was already striding across the yard.

  One thing at least. Surprise and resentment had dried the tears on her cheeks. Nothing had changed at the grassroots. No matter what she did, no matter what opinion she expressed, it would automatically in the eyes of Angus MacAllan be the wrong one. It was a blinding, choking trough and it submerged her.

  Jibe after jibe recalled itself, but overriding everything was a feeling of worthlessness. Had she made a bad job of Kelly? Was she in fact keeping her back? She’d been careful. She’d cautioned her about magic and kelpies. What more could she do? Oh damn, she thought, should I ... oh damn...

&nbs
p; Kelly on Dundee came cantering in ahead of Rob on Braemar. She reined expertly.

  ‘Don’t get off,’ Maggie called. ‘I want you to do something.’

  The child’s first pair of jodhpurs and a warm beech brown sweater gave her a cosy look. She had begun to fill out and she looked six months older than the red-eyed waif who had arrived from Ireland not three weeks ago.

  ‘All right. What?’ she called now.

  ‘I want you to go up to Strathyre,’ Maggie said evenly. ‘Mr. MacAllan has something to say to you.’

  ‘Mind how you go,’ she added as Kelly set off. ‘Make sure Dundee can’t get all over the grass.’

  ‘Is something up, then?’ Rob asked shrewdly.

  ‘No. Just wondering whether I shouldn’t go with her.’ All very well in theory to let Kelly stand on her own feet, what happened if she didn’t tie the pony up? Or lost her tongue on the doorstep?

  ‘Not at all. The lass can fend for herself,’ he told her consolingly, and led Braemar away.

  Maggie remained gazing at the green paddocks and Dundee’s brown quarters disappearing into the distance. It was an innocent scene, but it seemed to be closing a chapter in her life.

  CHAPTER NINE

  In the next ten days she had no meetings with Angus. The purchase and transfer of Cream Cracker was negotiated directly between him and Charles Fox in Ireland and the air freight arrangements went smoothly. Day after day melted into the green fields, their highlights flashing like close-ups from a camera.

  There was Kelly riding into the yard and saying quite simply: ‘Angus was asking if I knew a good pony he could get Graham for his birthday.’

  ‘Oh dear, I don’t suppose you did,’ Maggie had returned warily.