The One and Only

by Doris E. Smith

  ‘I did, of course. Cream Cracker,’ Kelly’s face had held only pleasure and self-importance. ‘I said we’d board him here.’

  There was the transport company’s mammoth horse van pulling up, its ramp being lowered and the familiar deep-bellied short-legged form backing out.

  And later there was Cream Cracker with Kelly up, positively romping in the paddock, tail flying, long mane whipping across his eyes. It had made Maggie think of the infectiously happy music that Angus had played that night after the Bach concerto. He had told her it came from Schubert’s Rosamunde.

  He had been right about Kelly and she would have told him so, but the opportunity did not arise. His call to the stables to see his purchase had, whether by accident or design, been made when she was fetching Kelly from school and he had left a message with Rob about Graham’s lessons. They were to start this afternoon, it was Wednesday and his half day from school.

  He arrived punctually, wheeling up the gated drive on a brilliant racing bike. His jodhpurs were new, his boots shiny. His chunky sweater was black with a champagne scarf inside its ribbed neck and his questions made Maggie wonder for the moment who was teaching whom.

  ‘I read recently that the Arab horse has the most perfect balance in the world. Would you agree with that, Miss Campbell?’

  ‘Yes, Graham, that’s generally accepted.’

  ‘How good is my pony on balance?’

  ‘Very good. He’s a thoroughbred, and almost every thoroughbred has a bit of Arab. What we’re going to do today in fact is to see how you are on balance. That’s why we’re doing without the saddle. You and Cream Cracker, like any friends, have to get the feel of each other.’ She had approached the lesson with trepidation. He was so serious and so mature. Now, for instance, his polite smile suggested that he found her amusing. Over-sentimental, perhaps. He was himself a most unsentimental young man. It could not be helped. She could only teach him the maxims she had proved and seen proved since she was knee-high to a grasshopper.

  ‘I couldn’t be more serious, Graham. Show him you care for him and he’ll show he cares for you. That’s straight from the horse’s mouth!’

  To her gratification the polite smile broadened. ‘Actually I’ve never had a pet,’ Graham confided thoughtfully. ‘So I’ve a lot to learn.’ He was big for his age, but somehow his hands had not kept pace with the rest of him. The hand now fondling Cream Cracker looked small and delicate and the face under the thick fringe had a purity of feature Maggie had never properly noticed.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she rejoined. ‘I’ve a lot to teach!’

  The green eyes so like his father’s turned innocently to her. ‘I don’t want you to make it easy for me just because we’re friends,’ their owner said.

  Maggie could not remember when any conclusion had given her such pleasure.

  Lesson time passed quickly and despite the folly of snap judgments Graham’s calm impressed. Coolness and lack of nerves, as Maggie well know, could carry him a long way.

  ‘Have you time for a cuppa? Or a drink of orange?’ she invited on impulse as he gave Cream Cracker’s neck a farewell pat.

  ‘Oh!’ His face lit up, amazing her. ‘Oh, thank you. That would be super.’ At the door of the tack room he stood back, waving her ahead with a gallant: ‘After you,’ which she could only hope Kelly was taking to herself, but inside he put away biscuits and orange squash with all of a child’s zest.

  Maggie, following suit, found herself describing the Connemara country where Cream Cracker had been foaled. Phyl and Charles Fox had taken her on a buying trip the summer before last. It was during the mating season and they’d watched a pony stallion being swum behind a boat from the mainland to an island where mares were congregated. Now, as she coloured in the moors, the cornflower sea, the lapwings and ringed plover and the young rabbit she’d seen washing its face like a kitten, she had seldom had as fascinated a listener.

  His next lesson was down for Saturday, but he seemed to leave with such reluctance that she gave him an open invitation to drop by whenever he liked. ‘The oftener the better. Cream Cracker likes to be noticed. In fact he loves a fuss.’

  ‘I won’t be in your way?’ MacAllan’s heir asked anxiously.

  ‘Not in the least. We only make a fuss of the horses,’ Maggie assured him. All in all it had been a heartening afternoon.

  The next day brought another unexpected pleasure, though at first the smart white car rushing up the drive roused Maggie’s ire. Who in their senses would come like a Jehu into a place where horses and ponies could be being exercised?

  She went out like an avenging angel. ‘All right, Rob. Leave this one to me,’ and stopped short in amazement.

  The car had pulled up and the emerging dark blue form had just stretched up again to its full six feet two inches. Late sun caught the ash grey head and a hand waved gaily.

  ‘Derek! How come?’

  ‘You didn’t see? Just as well.’ Long eyes and long mouth smiled down engagingly. ‘I thought for a moment you were going to give me a ticket!’

  He had endangered life. No blue eyes and today, above a sky blue shirt and mated cotton tie, his were like sapphires, should make her forget the fact. But he knew his fault and was penitent. ‘I am sorry. Next time I’ll lead her, I promise!’

  As they crossed the yard he swept an arm affectionately around her waist.

  ‘She’s new,’ Maggie observed.

  ‘She is indeed. First time out. What do you think?’

  Maggie thought highly. It seemed like carping that she should also have the feeling of being left behind. The Derek she had fallen in love with had never had a big car and had always swept his hair back the way he’d worn it as a schoolboy. Today it was styled, side-parted, straight-brushed, Edwardian. It was gorgeous. So was the double-breasted blazer. But different. Both of them made her realise that Derek was going places and she hated herself for the sudden coldness in her feet.

  He was in Aberdeen on business, trying in fact to find a suitable premises for a second office. Nothing suitable had been shown him and he was now on his way home. Allowing for the car which was being run in, there was no time to stop for a meal. ‘Not to despair,’ he concluded. ‘I’ll be back next week to look some more. We’ll have dinner.’

  ‘My turn then. You come to Wee House.’ She hoped it was imagination that his smile dimmed. ‘Well, I know I’m not Fanny Cradock,’ she said defiantly. ‘But I can open a tin.’

  Derek laughed. ‘I’m sure you can, darling, but what’s wrong with Treetops?’

  ‘Nothing, but...’ She was a mass of inconsistencies. Angus’s cars had made her goggle with envy, so why not enjoy Derek’s? Angus’s lecture on saving for a rainy day had caused her to choke with anger. Yet here she was thinking that as a man contemplating marriage in the New Year Derek could be cannier. ‘We don’t have to eat out every time.’

  ‘As you wish!’ Derek said blithely. ‘Meanwhile, how’s my favourite contact?’

  He made it sound like a game. She’d felt anything but light about it. However, for better or worse it was done.

  ‘About to defect,’ she said flippantly. ‘But all in good time. First say hello to Kelly.’

  Provokinglv, however, Kelly was not to be found.

  ‘I know she’s around somewhere,’ Maggie sighed. ‘And I would like you to see the improvement.’ She tried to ignore the fact that Derek’s: ‘Good, good,’ was perfunctory.

  The story of Cream Cracker had hardly more success, but it was a breakthrough and as such deserved telling. ‘I expect Angus MacAllan will say I told you so,’ she concluded. ‘He said I was stifling her. It seems truth needs to be brutal at times.’

  ‘My dear, you’re preaching to the convened,’ Derek shook his handsome head. ‘I apparently wasn’t brutal enough. And now about MacAllan? What news?’

  His eagerness savoured of pressure, but you had to be fair. He was being paid for this and he had a duty to Bonnie Tweeds who would not buy the pa
ckage until he vouched for the man who had wrapped it up.

  ‘Yes, I’ve finished. It’s all here.’ His eyebrows shot again as she went to the safe. ‘It’s all right,’ she reassured him. ‘I keep both the keys and nothing locks at Wee House, so I didn’t feel justified in leaving it there. Here you are.’ The envelope was there and she handed it to him. ‘I had to be frank.’ This had bothered her. ‘But I suppose that’s the way they want it for their files.’

  ‘They?’ Derek clipped.

  ‘Whoever they are you’re acting for.’ Maggie had too keen a sense of the ridiculous. Here they both were, each knowing Bonnie Tweeds was the firm Angus was merging with, and having to talk in circles. She couldn’t name it because that first day Angus had come all the way out of town to phone where he could not be overheard, and since then for all the times he had mentioned Bonnie Tweeds and the progress he was making he had never asked her not to tell.

  Somewhere that was funny. She couldn’t say the name to Derek, not because Angus had asked her not to but because he had not. Because he had been so simple. Because the astute managing director of MacAllans of Aberdeen had once or twice been naive as a boy.

  ‘Cup of tea?’ She must try to rid her mind of that man with the paint-chipped vacuum cleaner and the plastic ice-cream spoon and the striped apron.

  ‘Not for me, thanks.’ Derek’s eyes were bent to the sheet of paper.

  Line by line she read the paragraphs with him. She knew them off by heart.

  ‘Education. Public school and university. Fluent in German and Italian.

  Background. Widower. Lives with eleven-year-old son. Seems to spend most free time at home. The house was furnished and decorated to the taste of his late wife who was a professional design consultant. He maintains it meticulously. Cooking appears to be a hobby, so are landscape gardening, music and fast cars.

  Character. Meticulous, self-sufficient, values the proprieties, a man of sound judgment and a man of his word.

  Weaknesses. Apparently none. Thrifty. Unemotional. Careful drinker. Good relationship with son. Expected to marry fellow shareholder, no other involvements obvious.’

  By watching his eyes, she knew that he had read it three times. ‘Is it all right?’

  ‘All right? It’s a rave notice.’ He had coloured.

  ‘It’s not meant to be.’ Derek must not misunderstand. ‘I think it’s fair. I’d trust him with my money. That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? I think they should jump at him.’

  ‘You think?’ He made it sound utterly ridiculous.

  ‘You asked me,’ she flashed back.

  ‘No, Maggie. Not for opinion, for facts. Are these facts?’ He tapped the paper.

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Prove it. How do you know he speaks German and Italian?’

  ‘I heard him.’ She instanced the dinner party. It had a strange effect.

  ‘Who were these people?’ Derek demanded. ‘Where did they come from? What were their names?’

  ‘I’ll have to look in my diary.’ She had jotted them down at the time, simultaneously laughing off as absurdity the possibility of her being in Rome or Frankfurt or Berlin. ‘Derek, that’s not important. How could it be?’

  ‘We’d know that if we know what he said to them in German and Italian.’

  She gestured impatiently. He didn’t like it.

  ‘I wish I’d known about the party. I’d have warned you what to look for. Oh damn!’ He struck his knee. ‘Such a blind bit of luck and what have we got out of it?’

  ‘All you asked for,’ she thrust hotly. ‘Derek, I may not like Angus MacAllan, but in business he’s such a low risk he’s minus.’

  Damn! It was what Angus himself had said jokingly that day when they’d seen South Pacific. ‘I’m younger than January.’ ‘I’m younger again—I’m minus.’ She didn’t want to remember. She felt smutty enough without remembering any moment of that afternoon and evening.

  ‘And as a person?’ The blue eyes were needle-sharp.

  ‘A man of his word.’

  ‘High-principled?’

  ‘Straightforward.’

  ‘Not quite the same thing. An idealist—would you say?’

  ‘Derek, please! Is this an interrogation?’

  ‘Maggie, I have to know. This man isn’t real. This man on this piece of paper couldn’t exist. He has no weaknesses. Well, that’s what you say. And I don’t believe it. I can’t. Everyone has their weakness, everyone has their price.’

  ‘I don’t think he has.’

  ‘Then he is an idealist, a dreamer, not of this earth.’

  ‘No! That’s the last thing—’ She stopped. ‘You’re twisting me. I said Angus MacAllan was straightforward. I meant he can’t lose. He says out what he wants and he gets it. People give in.’

  ‘Which would make him,’ the tone was thoughtful and silky, ‘a formidable adversary.’

  ‘And a priceless ally. And that’s what I’m saying there.’ She nodded heatedly at the paper.

  ‘And that’s what I’m receiving now, loud and clear.’ The eyes softened the long lips curved and Derek laughed. ‘Thank you, darling, and my apologies. I had to be convinced and I am. This is good, you know.’ Again he indicated the paper. ‘Quite sophisticated. I congratulate you.’

  Maggie laughed too. ‘I suppose at this point I should say: Pleasure. You’ll understand why I don’t. Oh, Derek, am I very silly? I felt so dirty.’

  ‘You are very silly,’ he told her. ‘And very sweet and very precious because you did it for me.’ He went to the back of her chair and bent over. Arms covered hers and his chin nuzzled her head. When she looked up, he drew her gently back till he could reach her lips.

  ‘It would help, of course, if you could do just one more thing.’ As she stiffened, his hands dug gently into her arms. ‘It’s all right. Nothing too difficult. Relax. Does he ever talk to you about MacAllans?’

  If you excepted those stray remarks about the merger with Bonnie Tweeds the answer was never. She gave it with relief. ‘Any chance he’d show you over the factory?’

  ‘I wouldn’t ask him. Derek, this is stupid.’ She inched free of his embrace. ‘Don’t tell me your clients are buying by mail order. They must have seen for themselves. At this stage when they’re half committed I just wouldn’t believe...’

  ‘Yes, yes, they’ve seen it, but be fair. How true a picture of housekeeping has that given? You know yourself if you’re selling a horse it’s going to look its best.’

  Maggie sat up. ‘I don’t think I like the suggestion that I don’t give folk a straight deal!’

  ‘All right, I’ll shut up,’ Derek said. “That wasn’t what I meant and you know it. But if you should get the chance of seeing the place when it “informal dress” or perhaps hearing the stone ring round a Canadian maple. MacAllan’s front mind her, Graham. Your father was having us on.’

  Maggie was silent. It sounded right—in a way. Industry couldn’t stand still, you went forward or back. Cutting out risk was sensible. Other people’s money was at stake. She knew the jargon—all of it. In another way—it was obnoxious. It took no heed of people. It took away trust. It took away keeping a confidence. It could take away so much in fact that there would be nothing left of a person.

  The trouble was you could dislike the method and still love the man who of necessity had to conform. And where was the good in hurting him unduly?

  ‘We needn’t discuss it,’ she said ‘There’s absolutely no chance of my being shown over MacAllans.’

  The door burst open and Kelly toppled excitedly into the office.

  ‘Maggie, Graham’s here! I showed him how to put the bridle on.’ At sight of Derek she stopped, blushing. Behind her stood yesterday’s pupil.

  ‘I hope it’s all right my dropping in, Miss Campbell?’ he asked courteously.

  ‘Of course, Graham. Welcome any time,’ Maggie assured him. ‘I think you’ve met Mr. Grant, haven’t you?’

  Derek and Graham sho
ok hands. Kelly stared wide-eyed. Her glasses which needed tightening were crooked, her anorak half unzipped.

  ‘Say hallo to Uncle Derek,’ Maggie bade.

  Derek co-operated. ‘You’ve grown, haven’t you? What is it now? Thirteen hands?’

  ‘No,’ Kelly corrected. ‘Hands are what you measure horses by.’

  ‘Away you go and get washed for tea,’ Maggie commanded with annoyance. Children! You just couldn’t be up to them.

  Derek, however, laughed heartily, said yet again that he could not stay for a meal and took himself off. He stepped back to say for Maggie’s ear alone: ‘Next week then. I’ll phone and—thanks.’

  When Maggie walked back from the car Graham’s face was red. ‘Miss Campbell, I heard what you said just now about the factory. I’m afraid Dad is very busy, but I could show you over if that would do.’

  In normal circumstances Maggie’s pleasure would have been keen. Now she thought only of the possible consequences. ‘That’s very nice of you, Graham, but actually I’m very busy too. Perhaps we could leave it over?’ She tried not to see that between the curving sideboards Graham’s round face had clouded.

  ‘We’re not busy tomorrow,’ Kelly remarked, fixing her with an accusing eye. ‘We never are on Friday.’

  ‘Tomorrow would be super for me. I’ve a free period, so I can leave early,’ Graham supported. ‘But if you prefer it I’ll ask Dad to take you another time.’

  ‘It’s not that,’ Maggie began desperately. She saw the green eyes brighten and threw caution to the wind. ‘All right, if Rob lets us go you’re on!’