Anne Douglas

by The Wardens Daughters

  Where was he? Why had he left her? Was he ever coming back?

  Of course he’s coming back, you idiot, she told herself. Why would he not? He’d only gone for those wretched eggs, he shouldn’t be much longer. But supposing he had tripped, injured himself, was lying somewhere in the mist, waiting for her?

  She jumped to her feet, determined to find him, when through the mist, she heard something that stopped her in her tracks. It was the sound of an outboard motor.

  Oh, God! She put her hand to her lips. He had left her, he had taken his boat, that was the boat she could hear. What could she do? She was alone on this island. Who would know where she was? Her father and Lynette knew about her boat trip and that it involved an island, but they didn’t know where it was and probably wouldn’t miss her for hours. Lynette herself, anyway, wouldn’t be back home until late.

  Shivering with cold and apprehension, Monnie tried to reason things out. Why should Torquil leave her? It would be crazy, wouldn’t it? The action of someone with no sense at all, and that wasn’t Torquil. Yet, she couldn’t forget that he had once been described as ‘wild’. Wild enough to go off somewhere and forget all about her, or just play a trick? No, no, she couldn’t, wouldn’t, believe it. So, why had she heard the engine of his boat?

  She decided to run to the little strip of beach, see if she could see anything through the mist which might just be lifting a little. Please God, please God, may she see Torquil coming for her. Please God, may he not have gone away.

  How long she stood there, straining her eyes to see him, she couldn’t tell, for she had not worn her watch in case of damage by salt water and probably couldn’t have read it anyhow. All she knew was that every minute seemed like an hour, until, quite suddenly, as though pulled like a curtain, the mist rose. And coming straight towards the island in his boat was Torquil.

  He had switched off the engine to row into shore and in the new light of the May evening was as clear-cut as a statue, raising one hand from his oars to wave to her, while smiling easily and calling her name.

  ‘Hi, Monnie! I got them!’

  She was trembling as she watched him bring the boat in, secure it, and step out, very carefully cradling his cap. Trembling, not with cold, not with emotion that he had returned to her, but with an anger that was as strong and bright as a flame surrounding her, an anger so painful, she could hardly speak. But she did speak. She did get the words out that she wanted to say.

  ‘Where have you been, Torquil? What have you been doing?’

  ‘Why, you know what I’ve been doing – finding gulls’ eggs.’ He was staring at her with a clear, limpid gaze. ‘There weren’t any here, so I just took the boat to the next island. Got half a dozen, anyway. Want to see?’

  ‘No, I do not want to see!’

  What she wanted to do was run to him and hammer her fists on his chest . . . to take his cap and break the gulls’ eggs on the nearest rock. But, of course, she did not. Only stood her ground, her heels sinking into the soft sand, her chilled hands clasped, her grey eyes flashing.

  ‘Didn’t it occur to you to tell me where you were going?’ she asked, stammering in her eagerness to make him see what he had done to her. ‘Didn’t you think I might be frightened, left alone on this island, hearing your boat leaving? Were you playing a trick, or did you just not give a damn? I think I know which is true. Oh, God, I know!’

  ‘Monnie, what are you talking about?’

  He was shaking his head, his eyes on her still clear and innocent, as she had seen them appear before, his whole manner giving the impression that he was taken aback, quite mystified, by her tirade.

  ‘I do not understand what you’re complaining about. I went to look for the eggs, the mist came down and I couldn’t see any. What was I to do?’ His tone was suddenly cool. ‘I knew there was a chance of finding them on Skua Island – that’s what I call the one next to this – so I just took the boat and went over.’

  ‘Torquil, you could have come and told me what you were doing! You could have checked that I was all right!’

  ‘Why should you not have been all right? OK, it was misty, but not too bad – I could make things out, anyway. It never crossed my mind you would make such a fuss.’

  He turned to set his cap of eggs in the boat, still handling it as carefully as if it were something very precious, Monnie noticed, and then came back towards her, holding out his arms.

  ‘Ah, come on, forget about it. What’s done is done.’

  She made no reply.

  ‘All I did was take the boat and not tell you. Not exactly a hanging matter. And I wasn’t away for long. It just seemed like that to you.’

  ‘Because I was alone and I didn’t know if you were coming back!’

  ‘That’s ridiculous, Monnie. That’s hysterical. Of course you knew I would be coming back. What sort of man do you think I am?’

  ‘One who doesn’t care for me,’ she threw at him. ‘One who cares so little, he doesn’t even worry if I’m afraid or not, being left alone on an island in the middle of the Sound.’

  A terrible silence descended over them, as they stood quite still on the little shore, and the wind that had perhaps cleared the mist, ruffled the waters of the Sound and behind them bent the island’s few stunted trees.

  ‘Think we should go back,’ Torquil said at last. ‘Come on, I will take you home.’

  Refusing his hand, she climbed into the boat, keeping her gaze straight ahead, but seeing very little. All her thoughts were for her own desolation of spirit. She would not recognize that the beauty of the scenery she had studied earlier was still there, for it meant nothing to her without the extra colouring of Torquil’s love for her.

  And she knew now, in her heart, that he did not feel for her as she felt for him. Perhaps she had always known that secretly, but wouldn’t face it until she’d seen that day how little he’d cared that she was upset. So, maybe it wasn’t a hanging matter, that he’d left her alone, but wouldn’t a man who loved her have wanted to comfort her? To make things right between them? That he had not, had taken away her shell; left her cold and vulnerable to pain. How long before that pain receded? She was not even able to imagine it.

  Back at the jetty in Conair, again she refused Torquil’s help and left the boat herself, waiting while he tied up and joined her, holding, of course, his cap of gulls’ eggs.

  ‘You’ll want to get those to your mother,’ she said curtly. ‘So, I’ll say goodbye.’

  ‘I will walk you to the hostel, Monnie.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary. Goodbye, Torquil.’

  ‘Wait! Please, wait! We can’t just part like this. I thought we would be going out. I was planning to fetch my van.’

  ‘I am not going out with you, Torquil. I am saying goodbye.’

  Though she felt a knife turning in her heart, she turned and began to walk away.

  ‘Wait!’ he cried again. ‘Wait, Monnie! When are we going to see each other? You can’t just leave me like this. It is not fair. I have not done anything, I am not to blame!’

  She kept on walking, half-expecting him to follow, catch her up, take her arm, which she didn’t want, but still minded when he did not. Showed, didn’t it? How little he cared.

  Thirty-Nine

  There was the usual noise echoing around the hostel, mostly coming from the kitchen, where the young people were cooking, but the warden’s kitchen was quite the reverse. Very peaceful, very serene, with only Frank and Ishbel, sitting together over the remains of a meal, talking quietly – though falling silent as soon as Monnie appeared.

  ‘Why, you’re back early!’ her father cried, leaping up. ‘Thought you and Torquil would be going out after your boat trip.’

  ‘Monnie, what is wrong?’ asked Ishbel, whose eyes were sharper than Frank’s and who was already at Monnie’s side, taking off her wet anorak, rubbing her cold hands. ‘Why, you’re wet through! What happened? Did you capsize, or something?’

  ‘No.’ Monnie sat d
own at the table, resting her head for a moment on her hand. ‘We were on a little island, then Torquil went to find some gulls’ eggs and the mist came down and the sun went in – I suppose I must have just got chilled.’

  ‘He went to find gulls’ eggs and left you on your own in the mist?’ Frank asked. ‘What the hell was he playing at?’

  ‘I don’t know. We had a row, anyway.’ Monnie’s voice suddenly thickened with tears. ‘And I don’t want to see him again – it’s as simple as that.’ She left her chair, grabbing her bag and her anorak, and ran out of the door, calling over her shoulder, ‘I’m going to see if there’s any hot water for a bath, OK?’

  ‘Well,’ said Ishbel, after a moment or two. ‘I think I’d better put the kettle on and see what I can find for that poor girl to eat. She looks half frozen.’

  ‘Worth it, if it means she’s seen sense about that fellow at last. I was never happy with her going out with him, never.’

  ‘I don’t blame you, Frank. I’d feel the same.’

  He looked at her fondly and as she moved to fill the kettle, grasped her hand. ‘We feel the same about a lot of things, eh, Ishbel?’

  She nodded. ‘Things that matter.’

  ‘When are we going to tell them – I mean, the family?’ he whispered, standing close.

  ‘About us?’

  ‘Of course, about us.’

  ‘I think we’ll have to wait a little while. See how Monnie gets on.’

  ‘Better to get it over with, is my view.’ He kissed her cheek. ‘I’m not worried about my girls, you know – they’ll understand. But what about your son and daughter-in-law?’

  ‘Oh, I’m sure Niall and Sheana will be delighted,’ Ishbel answered, so quickly Frank guessed she wasn’t sure at all. ‘They just want me to be happy.’

  ‘As I do. I want to make you happy.’

  ‘It’s the same for me, Frank. You’ve been through a long sad time. We both have. But it’s like you said, we should move on, and now I want to make a new life with you.’ Ishbel’s gaze on him was steady. ‘I won’t let anyone spoil that.’

  ‘Nor me,’ he said huskily and would have taken her in his arms, but she sidestepped him, saying she must heat up some soup for his poor daughter.

  ‘She is like a little ghost, has lost all her colour, did you notice?’

  ‘I noticed,’ he said grimly, and glanced up at the kitchen clock. ‘Wonder what Lynette will have to say about it. Suppose she won’t be home for some time.’

  ‘Oh, no, she will be late, for sure. But you needn’t worry about her, Frank. She’s with dear Mr Allan.’

  For Lynette and Ronan, the evening at the Altair Hotel, some miles inland from Glenelg, had been perfect. The meal, the service, the ambience, everything, had been just as they wanted – and expected – seeing as the manager was a friendly rival of Ronan’s and had pulled out all the stops to impress.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ Ronan had said, when they were taking coffee on the terrace. ‘Deacon’s a good chap, very efficient, really cares about his clientele – that’s the mark of a successful manager.’

  ‘You should know,’ Lynette told him, accepting the cigarette he had lit for her. ‘You are one.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m too . . . serious?’

  ‘Not now. That was just an act you put on. You’re just as efficient, but more human. Didn’t I tell you once, that I recognized what was under all that starch? A very sweet, vulnerable man?’

  ‘Hey, you never said all that!’

  Ronan, stubbing out his cigarette, was very slightly blushing, and Lynette, smiling teasingly, covered his hand with hers.

  ‘It’s true, anyway.’

  ‘I don’t know . . .’ He lowered his voice, glancing round the shadowy terrace. ‘But the thing is, I’m glad I’m not in poor old Deacon’s shoes, human or not. He’s having to look for another job.’

  ‘No! Why?’ Lynette’s eyes were wide. ‘Why has he to go? He’s doing a wonderful job here, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, but the hotel is closing. The owner says it’s too small and isn’t paying, so he’s letting it go.’ Ronan gave a rueful grin. ‘Maybe this part of the world is more a hostel and bed and breakfast sort of place, anyway? Makes me lie awake at night some times, wondering.’

  ‘Oh, Ronan, the Talisman’s a splendid hotel! Near the sea, and lovely country and with every comfort – it will always attract people.’

  ‘Hope you’re right.’ He gave a sigh and looked at his watch.

  ‘Think we should be making a move? I’ll call for the bill.’

  ‘It’s been so wonderful, Ronan, I can’t tell you. I’ll always remember it.’

  ‘Why, there’ll be plenty more times like it, won’t there? You’ll want to see me again? And I don’t mean at work.’

  ‘No need to ask me. I want to see you again.’

  Satisfied, he relaxed, waving his hand to their waiter, who brought their bill followed by the youngish, keen-faced manager, Mr Deacon himself.

  ‘Everything all right, Ronan?’ he asked, glancing quickly at Lynette. ‘Miss Forester?’

  ‘It’s been excellent, Stuart,’ Ronan told him. ‘Lynette and I congratulate you. Just wish – you know – things were different for you.’

  ‘Yes, well, c’est la vie, as they say.’ Mr Deacon shrugged. ‘But I’ve a few irons in the fire. Possibly in Glasgow.’

  ‘No interest from buyers for the hotel at present?’

  ‘Oh, there’s interest, but not for keeping it as a hotel. Not to worry, Ronan, I think you’ll be safe enough at the Talisman.’

  ‘Hope so.’ Ronan was moving away with Lynette. ‘Keep in touch, Stuart, let me know how things go.’

  ‘Sure, I will,’ the manager replied. ‘I’ll tell you what happens to this place.’

  ‘And I’d be interested in that,’ Ronan quietly told Lynette.

  Forty

  As they drove from the hotel, the daylight, that stayed so long on Highland spring evenings was at last beginning to fade, and the darkness, moving to cover the sky, was causing Ronan to sigh.

  ‘What a shame, the light’s going,’ he murmured. ‘Now I won’t be able to see you properly when we stop. I mean, to say goodnight?’

  ‘Of course,’ she answered, her voice a little tremulous.

  ‘And you look so beautiful this evening, Lynette, in your blue dress, really lovely. Oh, God, couldn’t we stop now?’

  ‘Ronan, we’ve just set off! I think we’d better get nearer home, don’t you?’

  Their ‘goodnight’ stop, off the road to Conair but well away from the hostel, was as filled with passion and delight as they’d known it would be. For one fleeting moment, when she broke from Ronan’s embrace, Lynette was struck afresh by the wonder of her situation – but then he drew her back again and she gave up wondering, or even thinking, in the pleasure of their closeness.

  At last, of course, they had to part. Lynette said she must go, and Ronan, too, had to get back to the hotel. Slowly, reluctantly, they drove down the empty road to the gates of Conair House.

  ‘One day, you must come in,’ Lynette murmured. ‘You never have.’

  ‘I can’t think of that now. Only of you.’ Ronan turned to look at her. ‘It’s so hard, isn’t it? Parting. Is it always going to be this way?’

  ‘I guess it’s the way things are.’

  ‘They needn’t be,’ he said eagerly. ‘If we love each other. You do love me, don’t you? Because you must know I love you.’

  Love. It was strange, but now that Ronan had said the word, Lynette realized she had never actually thought about being in love with him. She wanted to be with him, he had come to be the most important part of her life, he stirred her to the depths of her being. And yet, she had never put it into words for herself that she loved him. Of course, she did, though. She must, to want to be with him, as she did.

  ‘You’re not answering, Lynette.’ He grasped her hands. ‘Why aren’t you answering? Tell me, you love me, for God’s sake!
’

  ‘I do, Ronan, I do!’

  ‘You mean it? You’re not just saying what I want to hear?’

  ‘I mean it.’ She kissed him on the lips. ‘I do mean it.’

  ‘Then will you marry me?’

  ‘Marry?’ She stared at him, through the darkness. ‘Why . . . oh, heavens, I don’t know what to say. I hadn’t even thought about it.’

  ‘I’ve thought of nothing else since the ceilidh.’

  ‘Since the ceilidh?’

  ‘Yes, because we’re right for each other. We’ve each met the one that counts, the one they say that’s waiting – everybody has one, the perfect partner.’

  ‘We haven’t known each other very long, you know,’ she said hurriedly. ‘It’s a big step – a huge change – we’d have to be very sure . . .’

  ‘I’m sure, I couldn’t be more sure.’ He hesitated. ‘But, look, maybe I have thrown this at you too soon. You may need time to think about it?’

  ‘Time, yes, I do need time. It’s – you know such a surprise. I’m sorry, Ronan, I don’t think I can answer you now.’

  ‘But you’re not saying no?’

  She shook her head. ‘I’m not saying no. It’s like you say, I just need time.’

  ‘I won’t hurry you,’ he told her quietly. ‘This is too important to me for that. We’ll just keep on seeing each other, and you’ll let me know your answer when you feel you can.’

  ‘I will, I promise.’ She began to open the car door. ‘But I really must go now. I want to see Monnie, see if she’s all right.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t she be?’

  ‘I don’t know. She was going out with Torquil in his boat today and so looking forward to it, I just hope it went well.’

  ‘She’ll be fine. Kiss me goodnight, then, Lynette. One last kiss.’

  They kissed quietly and then he came round to the passenger door and very quickly they embraced.

  ‘It was lovely tonight,’ she whispered. ‘Thank you again, Ronan.’

  ‘Thank you, for coming. I’ll see you tomorrow, then.’