by Cooper Jilly
Rory sniffed, still laughing. ‘I didn’t know ghosts reeked of aftershave. Really, Buster, next time you go bed-hopping, you should take an A — Z. Just think if you ended up in our hostess’s room.’ He looked round the room. ‘Well, if you’ve all finished, I’d quite like to go to bed.’
Finn Maclean glared at Rory for a second and then stalked out of the room, followed by Buster followed by the Frayns.
‘What an extraordinary couple,’ I could hear her saying, ‘do you think they could be a bit mad?’
Still laughing, Rory started pulling off his tie. There was a knock on the door.
‘Probably Buster wondering if he’s forgotten someone,’ said Rory. Sure enough, Buster stood on the threshold. ‘Rory, dear boy, just like a word with you.’
‘Knowing you, it’ll be several words,’ said Rory.
‘Don’t say anything to your mother about this, will you?’ I heard Buster saying in a low voice. ‘She’s been under a lot of strain with her ankle, just taken a sleeping pill, wouldn’t want to upset her.’
‘You’re an old goat, Buster,’ said Rory. ‘But your secret is safe with Emily and me. I can’t, alas, vouch for Doctor Maclean, who is the soul of indiscretion, or for that appalling couple we gave a lift to.’
‘Goodness,’ I said after he’d gone. ‘Do you think he was being unfaithful to Coco?’
‘Probably,’ said Rory. ‘He and my mother trust each other just about as far as they can throw each other, which always seems a good basis for marriage.’
‘But whose bedroom was he trying to get into?’ I asked.
‘Probably taking pot-luck,’ said Rory.
‘Marina’s perhaps,’ I said, then could have bitten my tongue off.
‘Marina left hours ago, she and Hamish aren’t staying here,’ said Rory. ‘They were having the most frightful row when they left. They should lay off arguing occasionally, a short rest would re-charge their batteries for starting again.’
So he hadn’t been with Marina. Instead he’d been on the battlements by himself in a blizzard, driven by what extremes of despair. Somehow that seemed even worse. He got into bed, put his arms round me and kissed me on the forehead. I could never understand his changes of mood.
‘Sorry you were frightened by Buster,’ he said, and the next moment he was asleep. I lay awake for a long time. Towards dawn he rolled over and caught hold of me, groaning, ‘Oh my darling, my little love.’ I realized he was asleep and, with a sick agony, that it certainly wasn’t me he was talking to.
Chapter Fifteen
For the first time I dreaded Christmas. At home it had been our own, cosy, womb-like festival, but with Rory there wasn’t likely to be peace on earth, or goodwill towards men. Half-heartedly I chose a fir tree from the plantation behind our house and set it in a tub, put holly on the walls, strung a bit of mistletoe from the drawing-room light.
On Christmas Eve I went into Penlorren to do last-minute shopping and buy some little presents for Rory’s stocking. I left Rory cleaning his gun for the shoot Buster had arranged for Boxing Day.
When I got back, weighed down with parcels, there was a car parked outside the gate. I let myself in and was just about to shout I was back, when I heard raised voices from the studio. I tiptoed closer so I could distinguish them. One was like rough sand with a pronounced Scottish accent, the other aristocratic, drawling, silken with menace. Through the door I could see Finn and Rory facing each other, like a huge lion and a sleek, slim, black panther, obviously in the middle of a blazing row. Neither of them heard me.
‘Well, Doctor?’ said Rory, the words dripping with insolence. ‘Why are you hounding me like this?’
‘Because I’ve got several things I want to say to you.’
‘Well, don’t say them now. Emily’ll be back any moment.’
‘I don’t know what devilish game you’re up to this time,’ said Finn, ‘but you’d better stop playing cat and mouse with my sister. Leave her alone, you’ve done enough damage.’
I felt my throat go dry. I held on to the door handle for support.
‘Marina’s over twenty-one. Surely she’s old enough to take care of herself,’ said Rory.
‘You know she can’t,’ thundered Finn. ‘You of all people must know how near the edge she is. Don’t you ever think of Hamish?’
‘Not if I can help it,’ said Rory in a bored voice.
‘Or Emily?’
‘Leave Emily out of it. She’s my problem. You should really visit us more often, Finn. You’re like a breath of fresh air.’
‘You damned little rat,’ roared Finn. ‘You’re going to carry on as before, aren’t you?’
‘Well, things are slightly more complicated now, but on the whole, Doctor, you’ve got a pretty clear view of things.’
‘You know I can put the police on you, don’t you?’ said Finn.
Suddenly Rory lost his temper. He went as white as a sheet, his black eyes blazed.
‘You wouldn’t dare,’ he hissed. ‘Your family would come out of it as badly as mine.’
‘I don’t care.’
Their faces were almost touching in their rage.
Then Rory’s control seemed to desert him. He sprang at Finn, howling abuse, his fingers round Finn’s throat. At one moment it seemed as though Finn was going to be murdered. The next, Rory had gone down before a crashing blow on the jaw, and Finn was standing over him, fists clenched, about to kick Rory’s head in.
‘No!’ I screamed. ‘No! Don’t touch him.’
Finn swung round, his yellow eyes blazing. Then he looked down at Rory.
‘That’s only the beginning, Rory,’ he said. ‘I won’t be so gentle with you next time.’
And he was gone.
‘Are you all right?’ I said.
‘Fine,’ Rory said. ‘I do love Christmas, don’t you? It brings out those delightful histrionic qualities latent in all of us.’
I didn’t laugh.
‘I suppose you’re going to tell me he was talking nonsense,’ I said, ‘that there wasn’t any truth in his accusations.’
Rory poured himself a drink and downed it in one, then he banged the glass down.
‘What do you think, Emily? That’s what matters.’
‘I don’t think anything,’ I said, biting my lip to stop myself crying. ‘I just know you haven’t made love to me for nearly three months and it’s driving me crazy. Then Finn comes here and says all these things, and they seem to add up.’
Rory picked up the gun from the table and examined it. ‘So, you’re not getting your ration,’ he said softly.
‘Put that thing away,’ I said nervously.
‘Does it frighten you? Poor, frustrated Emily.’
He lifted the gun, his finger on the trigger.
‘Don’t!’ I screamed.
He aimed the gun upwards. There was a muted explosion, the crash of a light bulb, and the studio was in darkness. The next minute a wedge of muscle and flesh hurled itself against me, knocking the breath out of my body, pinioning me to the carpet. Then Rory’s mouth ground against mine with such intensity our teeth clashed. I struggled helplessly like a fly against a wall, trying to push him away.
‘No, Rory, no,’ I shrieked.
‘You wanted it,’ he swore. ‘You’re bloody well going to get it.’
It was over in a few seconds. I lay on the floor, rocking from side to side, my hands over my mouth. My ribs felt as though they’d crack with agony from the dry sobs I couldn’t utter.
Rory flicked on the side light and shone it in my face.
‘That’s what you wanted, wasn’t it? You don’t seem pleased.’
I gazed at him dumbly, I could feel the tears welling out of my eyes.
‘You hate my guts, don’t you?’ I whispered.
‘It’s your lack of guts I hate,’ he said.
Then, suddenly, he put his arms round me and pulled me against him. I jerked my head away.
‘Oh, Emily, Emily,’ he muttered, �
�I’m so miserable, and I’ve made you miserable, too. Forgive me, I don’t know what gets into me.’
Running a dry tongue over my lips and tasting the blood congealing there, I digested this outburst. I should have tried to comfort him, to find out what drove him to these black, uncontrollable rages. But I didn’t feel up to it. Without a word, I shook him off, got to my feet, and walked out of the room, banging the door shut.
Chapter Sixteen
Looking back on a time of intense unhappiness, one fortunately remembers very little. Our marriage was into injury time. Somehow we got through Christmas and the next month; hardly speaking, licking our wounds, yet still putting up a front to the outside world. Over and over I made plans to leave, but could never quite bring myself to. In spite of everything I still loved Rory.
February brought snow, turning the island into a place of magic.
Coco’s ankle recovered and she decided to give a birthday party for Buster.
Rory went to Glasgow for the night to stock up with paint, but was due back at lunchtime on the day of the party.
I went to sleep and had the most terrible nightmare about Marina and Rory, lying tangled in each other’s arms, asleep on the floor. I woke up in floods of tears, with the moon in my eyes and the screaming horrors in my mind. I groped for Rory beside me, and then remembered he wasn’t there. I was too frightened to go back to sleep again. I got up and cleaned the house from top to toe (my charwoman had been off for several weeks with rheumatism), and spent hours cooking Rory a gorgeous lunch to welcome him home. Then I went out and bought two bottles of really good wine. From now on I decided I was going to make a last effort to save my marriage.
At twelve o’clock the telephone rang. It was Rory. He was still in Edinburgh. He’d be back later, in time for Coco’s party.
‘Why bother to come back home at all?’ I said, and slammed down the telephone, all my good resolutions gone to pot. How the hell was I to fill in the time until he got back? I refused to cry. I decided to drive into Penlorren and buy Buster a present.
Two miles from home I suddenly realized I’d come out without my purse, and decided to turn round and get it. The road was icy and inches deep in snow. My U-turn was disastrously unsuccessful. The next thing I was stuck across the road, the wheels whirring up snow every time I pressed the accelerator.
Suddenly, around the corner, a dark blue car came thundering towards me, going much too fast even without ice on the roads. I screamed with terror but was absolutely powerless to move. There was no way it could brake in time. Then by some miracle of steering, the driver managed to yank the car to the right, slithering into a sixteen-yard skid, missing my car by inches, before juddering to a halt in a snowdrift.
Trust my luck. It was my old enemy Finn Maclean who got out of the car, all red hair and lowered black brows, jaw corners and narrow, infuriated eyes. ‘What the blazes do you think…’ he began, then he realized it was me, took a deep breath and said, ‘God, I might have known.’
He looked me over in a way that made me feel very small, and hot and uncomfortable.
‘I couldn’t help it,’ I blurted out, still shaking from shock.
‘That’s what I’m complaining about,’ he said wearily. ‘I’m sure you couldn’t help it; only an imbecile would have attempted to turn a car around here.’
‘I’ve said I’m sorry,’ I said, colouring hotly. ‘Anyway, you were driving much too fast and my car skidded. No-one could have moved it.’
‘Get out,’ said Finn brusquely.
I got out. He got in and turned the car immediately. Then he got out and held the door open for me.
‘Nothing to it,’ he said, infuriatingly. ‘You were just using too much choke.’
It was the last straw. I got into the car, just looked at him and burst into tears; then, crashing the gears, I roared off home. God knows how I got back with the whole countryside swimming with tears.
I don’t know how long I cried, but long enough to make me look as ugly as sin. Then I noticed the potted plant Coco had given me for Christmas. It looked limp and dejected.
‘Needs a bit of love and attention, like me,’ I said dismally, and getting up, I got a watering can and gave it some water.
Then I remembered someone had once told me if you watered rush mats it brought out the green. I heard a step. I must have left the door open. Hoping by some miracle it might be Rory, I looked up. It was Finn Maclean.
‘Don’t you come cat-footing in here,’ I snarled.
Then I realized how stupid it must look, me standing there watering carpets in the middle of the drawing-room.
‘I’m not quite off my rocker,’ I said weakly. ‘It’s meant to bring out the green in the rushes.’
Finn began to laugh.
‘Whenever I see you you’re either tearing up roses with your teeth, trying to block the traffic, or watering carpets. How come you’re such a nutcase?’
‘I don’t know,’ I muttered. ‘I think I was dropped as an adult.’
‘You’re going to water the whole floor in a minute,’ he said, taking the watering can away from me.
For a minute he looked at me consideringly. Aware how puffy and red my eyes were, I gazed at my feet.
Then he said, ‘I came to apologize for biting your head off this morning. I was tired, I hadn’t been to bed. Still, it was no excuse, and I’m sorry.’
I was so surprised I sat down on the sofa.
‘That’s all right,’ I said, ‘I had a lousy night too, otherwise I wouldn’t have cried.’
‘Where’s Rory?’
‘In Glasgow.’
‘I’m going over to Mullin this afternoon to see a patient, why don’t you come too?’
‘I get sick on planes,’ I said quickly.
‘You can’t land a plane there. I’m taking the speedboat. I’ll pick you up in half an hour. We needn’t talk if we don’t want to.’
Chapter Seventeen
It was a beautiful day: the sun shone and the hills glittered like mountains of salt against an arctic blue sky. The gloom was still on me as we ploughed over the dark green water, but I found it easier to endure, particularly when I found Finn and I could talk or not talk, with a reasonable amount of ease. When we moored and I leapt on to the landing-stage, he caught me, and his hands were steady and reassuring like a man used to handling women.
As we walked up the mountainside to a little grey farmhouse, the bracken glittered white like ostrich feathers of purest glass, snow sparkled an inch on every leaf, icicles hung four feet deep. Suddenly, an old woman, her arm in plaster, came running out of an outhouse beside the farm.
‘Doctor!’ she screamed, ‘thank God ye’ve come, it’s me wee cow.’
‘Careful, you’ll slip,’ said Finn, taking her good arm.
‘What’s the matter with her?’
‘She’s started calving and things dinna look too well. Angus went to the mainland for help, but he’s not back yet.’
‘I’ll have a look at her,’ said Finn, going into the outhouse.
A terrified, moaning, threshing cow was lying in the corner.
‘Easy now,’ said Finn soothingly, and went up to her. He had a look then called, ‘She’s pretty far gone, Bridget.’
The old woman promptly started crying and wailing that it was their only cow.
‘Go back to the house,’ Finn told her, ‘I’ll do what I can. You’ll only be a hindrance with that arm. Come on,’ he added to me, ‘you can help.’
‘I can’t,’ I squeaked. ‘I don’t know anything about cows. Shall I take the boat back to the island and get help?’
‘It’s too late,’ said Finn, rolling up his sleeves. As he spoke, the cow gave another terrified moan of pain.
‘Oh, all right,’ I said sulkily. ‘Tell me what to do.’
‘Hold on to the calf’s legs,’ said Finn, ‘and when I say “pull”, pull hard.’
‘Gawd,’ I muttered. ‘What a way to spend a Thursday.’
; The straw was already sticky with blood and there was only one 30-watt bulb to work under. Finn barked out instructions.
‘Haven’t you got any Pethedine for her?’ I said.
Finn didn’t answer. I supposed he was used to delivering babies. But women in labour don’t usually flail and lurch around like cows do.
‘I’m sure she’d be less uptight if the bull had been present at the birth,’ I joked weakly, as I picked myself up from the stinking straw for the third time.
After that I stopped making jokes, but just gritted my teeth and followed Finn’s instructions, aware that despite his Herculean strength, he could be surprisingly gentle. Then, at last, a thin, long-legged calf was lying safe on the straw, being proudly licked by its mother.
‘Oh, isn’t it sweet?’ I said, tears pricking my eyelids.
‘Well done,’ said Finn. I felt as though he’d given me the Nobel Prize. ‘Come inside and have a wash. Bridget’ll give us a cup of tea.’
On the boat home he said, ‘You look absolutely whacked.’
‘It isn’t often I spend the afternoon playing midwife to a cow,’ I said.
‘Come along to the surgery tomorrow,’ he said. ‘I’d like to have a look at you.’
I blushed, absurdly flattered at his concern.
‘How’s the hospital going?’ I asked.
‘Fine. Three wards completed already.’
‘You must be run off your feet.’
He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I’ve got a new intern starting next week which’ll help.’
‘What’s he like?’
‘It’s a she.’
‘Oh,’ I said, momentarily nonplussed. ‘What’s she like?’
‘Very attractive. I chose her myself.’
‘For yourself?’
‘Bit early to tell. I’m a romantic, I suppose. All part of the Celtic hang-up. I don’t think the man-woman thing should be conducted on a rabbit level.’
The lights were coming on in Penlorren now, pale in the fading light. I felt stupidly displeased at the thought of some glamorous woman doctor working with Finn. I saw her with slim ankles, and not a hair out of place, white coat open to show an ample cashmere bosom.