Thirty-Four
There was certainly to be no long road home for Frank, for he had to be back at the hostel to open the door for his young clients – which didn’t mean that he couldn’t spend a few minutes saying goodnight to Ishbel first.
‘I meant what I said,’ he told her quietly, as he helped her from his car. ‘About this being one of the happiest evenings I’ve had in a very long time.’
‘I meant what I said, too.’
Though her shop window was dark, the light over her side entrance showed Ishbel’s face to be as serious as Frank’s, her lips slightly trembling, her eyes intent on his.
‘I’ve never been so happy. Never thought I could be – after Robbie died.’
‘I feel the same. Never thought, after my Ellie left me, that I could ever want to be with someone else the way I want to be with you.’
‘It is not wrong, to feel like that, Frank. It doesn’t mean, you’re forgetting. Only that—’
‘I know what you’re saying.’ Very gently, he drew her into his arms. ‘Time heals, moves on, and we move on, too. The loved ones – they’d understand.’
‘I think so.’ She slowly raised her face to his, offering her lips for his first kiss, which, when it came, made all words, all thoughts, vanish for the long, long moment it lasted. Even when they had drawn apart, looking at each other just a little self-consciously, they made no effort to speak, until, finally, Frank sighed and released her from his arms and whispered her name.
‘Ishbel, Ishbel – how do I leave you?’
‘You have to let your young folk in,’ she murmured. ‘They’ll be sitting waiting on the doorstep.’
‘I’d like to say, let ’em!’
‘But you’re too conscientious.’ She ran her fingers down his cheek. ‘Better go, Frank, before it gets too hard.’
‘Hard enough now.’ He put his hand on his car door. ‘But I’ll come to the shop tomorrow, eh? Bring a shopping list as long as my arm so I can spend a good long time with you?’
‘It’s Sunday tomorrow,’ she answered demurely. ‘But I could come round to see you tomorrow afternoon?’
‘Ishbel, would you?’
‘I would!’
They laughed and he got into the driving seat.
‘You never know, my girls might be home before me. They could let the hostellers in.’
‘Your girls home before you?’ Ishbel laughed again. ‘You must be joking.’
‘Aye, maybe I am. Goodnight, dear Ishbel.’
‘Goodnight, Frank.’
‘See you tomorrow.’
‘Tomorrow.’
Driving the short distance to the hostel after Ishbel had vanished into her own door, Frank found himself shaking with continuing excitement. It had happened. He had declared himself. He’d never believed it possible that he would be able to let Ishbel know what was in his heart, though he’d been pretty sure for some time that her heart was feeling the same as his own. But feeling and declaring – they were two different things. Without the ceilidh that had brought a new intimacy to their meeting together, would they ever have dared to take the risk of speaking out?
Oh, God, I’d have had to, Frank thought, but knew that he might not. Might have been afraid. Of what? Of rejection. But there had been no rejection. As he drove up the hostel drive and parked his car, his spirits rose like birds and his heart was singing.
‘Grand party, Mr Forester!’ a young voice called, and remembering his responsibilities enough to take notice of what was going on, he saw that Ishbel had been right. Quite a crowd of his hostellers were sitting on the steps of the house waiting for him, all as happy as he was, from the look of them, having been so royally entertained at the Talisman.
‘Have a good time, then?’ another voice asked.
‘You bet!’ Frank answered, taking out his keys. ‘Am I the first back?’
Well, of course, it was clear that he was, for his daughters would have unlocked the door, but they’d be along soon and in the meantime, he’d bedtime to organize for all his overexcited hostellers.
‘Lights out in fifteen minutes!’ he called, ignoring groans, only pausing to wonder, after the house finally grew quiet, just when his girls would be coming home.
Both Torquil and Ronan had had the same idea – not to find a long way home, but just to move off the road, park beside trees under a dark velvet night sky; quite away, of course, from one other. Quite away from anyone at all.
‘You weren’t wanting to go straight home?’ Ronan asked quietly, taking Lynette’s hand in a firm, dry clasp.
‘No, I wasn’t wanting that,’ she answered, breathing a little fast as she felt the pressure of his hand.
His face, like hers, was no more than a pale blur in the darkness that held them, but they didn’t need to see faces; the nearness of their bodies in the cramped seats of the car was enough to drive up an excitement they could hardly contain.
‘This is the first time we’ve been alone,’ Ronan said huskily.
‘If you don’t count your office,’ Lynette whispered.
‘Don’t talk of that.’ He slowly drew her towards him. ‘I don’t want to be reminded.’
‘I can’t forget.’
‘You can’t forgive me?’ They were very close now, their faces touching, his hand stroking back her hair, smoothing her brow.
‘It’s not that. Just I can’t understand the way we were . . . seeming to hate each other—’
‘Hatred is close to love, they say, but there was no hatred, Lynette. Never any hatred.’
His mouth sank to hers, and then for some time there was no more talking. No need for talking, only the longing to kiss and kiss again, to shut out the world, to be as close as possible, until at last they had to draw away, if only to breathe, laugh a little with joy, and sit back, trying again to see each other in the darkness.
‘How did it happen?’ Lynette asked at last, putting her hand to her lips, as though she could still feel Ronan’s kisses.
‘How did what happen?’ His words were slow, a little dreamy.
‘Us. How did we change?’
‘We never changed. The way I see it, underneath all that antagonism was something we didn’t want to recognize.’
‘No, no, I never felt that. I took against you from the first, I don’t know why.’ She put her hand to his cheek, to soften what she was saying. ‘Perhaps because I thought it was you who’d taken against me.’
‘Taken against you? I was attracted from the start!’
‘You never showed it. You just seemed cold and arrogant – prejudiced, because I came from the hostel.’
‘Oh, God, is that true? Is that how I seemed? Lynette – darling – it’s not how I felt. I was attracted and – I don’t know – angry about it, because I could tell, I suppose, that as you’ve just said, you’d taken against me.’
Suddenly, he caught her in his arms again, and again they kissed, but more gently, more sweetly, until he released her.
‘Let’s not talk of it any more,’ he said quietly. ‘What’s past is past. Let’s think of now.’
‘I want to, Ronan, but I must go. It must be getting very late, Dad doesn’t keep tabs on us, but he must be wondering by now what’s happened to me.’
‘We’ll go, as long as you promise me, we’ll be together again soon.’
‘It won’t be easy.’ She smiled in the darkness. ‘Considering where we work.’
‘I’m talking of free time.’
‘Free time? Oh, wonderful!’
‘It will be, it will be.’
At the gates to the hostel, she turned to him, glad now to see his face in the lamplight, her heart leaping at the expression in those strange eyes of his, knowing her own look reflected it.
‘You know when things really changed for us?’ she asked softly.
He shook his head. ‘Tell me.’
‘It was when you told me of your life here, at the house, and of how you’d had to leave it. For the first time, I saw
another side of you, a human side, and I began to understand.’
‘Lynette, that’s amazing. I don’t know what to say. Even then – you were beginning to care for me, weren’t you? You were recognizing what we might have?’
She hesitated, was about to speak, when a horn sounded on the drive and swinging round, she and Ronan saw Torquil’s van stopping and both Torquil and Monnie getting out.
‘Hi, there!’ Torquil cried. ‘Seems you are as late returning as we are!’
‘Monnie, where’ve you been?’ Lynette asked, stupidly, for what right had she to ask that? Especially when it was so clear from the radiant look on Monnie’s face that she and Torquil had been to the same lovers’ haven as Lynette and Ronan themselves.
Thirty-Five
Some few days later, Monnie was spending a half day, not with Torquil who hadn’t yet fixed up the boat trip, but Paul Soutar. At long last, they had met to drive to Kyle in search of climbing boots, and having found a pair that passed Paul’s inspection, had had an argument over buying them, which Monnie had won.
‘I’d like to have got them for you,’ Paul told her earnestly. ‘It was my idea, after all, to take you hill walking.’
‘I’m the one who wants to go,’ she said firmly, ‘and the boots are for me, so I’m paying. But you can take me to tea, if you like.’
‘Thank the Lord for that! I’m dying for a cup.’
They walked leisurely through the busy village, conscious all the time of their nearness to Skye just over the water; enjoying the soft early May weather, and, indeed, being together.
Paul was so easy to be with, Monnie thought as she had thought before. So – she searched for the word – undemanding. His first instinct would always be, she felt sure, to fit in, if possible, with whatever his companion wanted, at the same time keeping his own strength of purpose, making sure things would go well. Whatever happened, wherever you found yourself with him, you’d be able to trust him. And how much that meant! More than charm? Oh, yes. More than that something it was impossible to describe, that drew you to a person and held you fast? Oh, no.
Turning her fine grey gaze on Paul’s face, Monnie found herself sighing, at which he cheerfully took her arm.
‘Hey, no sighing! What you need is tea and cakes, and there they are, right in front of us. I’ve been steering us towards this tea shop all along – it’s my favourite.’
‘You’re right!’ she cried jauntily. ‘As soon as I’ve had my fix of tea and fancies, I’ll be as cheerful as you. Or, almost.’
‘I was really sorry I missed the hotel ceilidh, you know,’ he told her seriously, as she poured the tea in the charming little café he’d found for them. ‘You might say, in fact, that I was devastated, but there was no way of getting out of going to Edinburgh. I had a meeting of the backers for my school – couldn’t afford to miss it.’
‘More important, I’m sure, than dancing all those reels with the local lovelies.’
‘What local lovelies?’ He laughed, as he passed her a plate of small cakes.
‘Well, there’s Lynette’s assistant for one,’ Monnie suggested, rather despising herself for having to bring Fionola into the conversation, as though she had to dwell on the girl’s beauty. In spite of her rapturous kissing and caressing with Torquil after the ceilidh the other night, and in spite of the promised boat trip, she knew she was still afraid that she had rivals. Nina, for instance, who had danced with him. And Fionola, he’d described as ‘lovely’.
‘A very good-looking girl,’ Paul was remarking now. ‘Same as your sister and both fine dancers, I expect. But if I’d been at the ceilidh, I’d have been hoping for a dance with you.’
‘And I’d have been delighted,’ she told him. ‘Of course I would.’
Paul studied his pastry for a moment, before raising his eyes to her. ‘But I would have had to fight off Torquil, I suppose? That goes without saying.’
‘I did dance mainly with Torquil,’ she admitted.
‘As I said, goes without saying. He’s your admirer.’
‘Admirer? Paul, that sounds so old-fashioned!’
‘Does it? Suppose I’m an old-fashioned guy, then, because I’m an admirer, too.’
At that, she looked down at her iced chocolate cake and he immediately reached forward to grasp her hand.
‘Sorry, Monnie, sorry! I’m not trying to embarrass you, not trying to spoil things. I do admire you, but as a friend.’ His gaze was appealing, his hand, holding hers, very firm. ‘OK, then?’
She looked up, smiling with relief. ‘OK, Paul. Absolutely OK.’
He sat back, relaxing, loosening her hand from his.
‘Glad that’s settled, then. Like another cake?’
‘No thanks, I haven’t finished this one yet. Besides, I don’t want to put on weight.’
‘Monnie, you’ll never put on weight, especially after you’ve been up a few Munros. We must plan where we’ll start.’
‘I do want to do that, see how I get on.’
Paul hesitated. ‘And it’s all right, is it? With Torquil, I mean?’
‘Torquil?’
‘He won’t mind, if you go hill walking with me?’
‘Oh, no. No, he’s quite happy about it.’
‘I see.’ Paul finished his tea and set down the cup, his face expressionless, but Monnie’s antennae picked up the signals.
Oh, no, she groaned inwardly, he’s guessed Torquil sees him as no threat, and he minds. But why should he mind, if he was only a friend? She put the thought aside. Perhaps no man would like to be disregarded in that way? No woman, either, come to that.
Putting on a cheerful smile again, Paul signalled for the bill and they both rose to go.
‘It’s been so nice, Paul, thank you,’ Monnie said. ‘For driving me in and helping me choose my boots, this lovely tea, and everything.’
‘My pleasure. It’s been nice for me, too.’
Driving back to the hostel, Paul said he’d be looking at his maps, picking out the right place to take Monnie on her first outing.
‘I’m not sure that Beinn Sgritheall is the best one for you to try as a beginner – you remember, that’s the “hill of scree” near Arnisdale I showed you? It’s got a few difficult bits, and we might find something easier.’
‘Hey, I like a challenge!’
He grinned. ‘I daresay, but safety is all in hill walking. That’s my cardinal rule, so we’ll do some practice runs before we tackle that particular Munro.’
‘I’m in your hands, Paul.’
‘Sounds good.’ He laughed. ‘But here’s the hostel, already. Monnie, I’ll ring you, shall I?’
At the hostel gate, they stood for a moment, gazing in companionable manner at each other. Should she kiss his cheek? Monnie was wondering. Better not. She touched his hand, made her thanks again, and waved as he climbed back into the car and drove away, with one last smile.
‘Had a good time?’ asked Frank, as she looked in at his office. ‘Get your boots?’
‘Oh, yes, I’m all set now. Scottish mountains, here I come!’
‘Wonderful. Er – Monnie – you’ll be on duty this evening, right?’
‘Right. Do you want me to do something?’
‘Just to be here. Ishbel’s asked me for supper.’
‘Oh?’ Monnie slightly raised her eyebrows. ‘Very nice, eh? Bet you’ll have a lovely meal.’
‘It’s OK, then?’
‘Sure it is. I’ll just go and see what I can rustle up for Lynette and me – she’s home early this evening.’
And wait till she hears about Dad going to Ishbel’s, Monnie was thinking. Was it surprising, or not? After the way those two had danced together at the ceilidh, maybe not. On the other hand, as she took two chops from the fridge, Monnie decided she was, after all, just a little surprised. Surprised, and not altogether pleased. Dancing in public was one thing, but having a meal together in Ishbel’s home, maybe that meant something else? What would Lynette make of it?
&
nbsp; Seemed Lynette didn’t know what to make of it. When she arrived home, she looked as wonderfully happy as she’d looked ever since the night of the ceilidh, but when she saw her father leaving, all spruced up for his date with Ishbel, her face changed.
‘Supper with Ishbel, just the two of them?’ Her gaze on Monnie was thoughtful. ‘What do you think it means?’
‘You tell me.’
‘I can’t. Don’t know what to say. I mean – at their age – it’s odd, eh?’
‘What is?’
‘Well – being so attracted, and such.’
‘They’re not as old as all that.’
‘Come on, they’re behaving like—’
‘Like us?’
‘Like folk much younger, anyway. And then there’s our mother, isn’t there? She meant everything to Dad, didn’t she? He couldn’t . . . just forget her?’
Monnie bit her lip. ‘That’s what I’ve been wondering.’
The sisters exchanged long troubled looks, until Monnie said she’d things to do, they’d better get on cooking those chops, and Lynette sighed with exasperation.
‘Oh, it’s too bad, eh? Just when things are working out for us, up comes another worry!’
‘Everything all right, then, between you and Ronan?’
‘Couldn’t be better.’ The smile returned to Lynette’s face. ‘We’re going to go over to a country hotel he knows beyond Glenelg on Saturday evening. Mrs A is going to cover for him and Fionola for me till we close down, though they don’t know we’re going out together. But I’m so happy, Monnie. Never thought I’d be so happy!’
‘So am I,’ Monnie declared quickly. For it was true, wasn’t it? Forget all those thoughts about rivals. In a couple of days, Torquil would be calling and they’d be fixing up the boat trip. She’d every reason to be happy.
‘If only Dad doesn’t go and do something silly,’ said Lynette. ‘We’ll have to keep an eye on him.’
‘And Ishbel,’ said Monnie.
Anne Douglas Page 17