by Anne Douglas
‘Are you all right?’ she asked, noticing worriedly that his breathing was becoming fast. Clearly his chest was tightening; soon he would begin to cough.
‘I’m fine. It’s just the usual thing. But I think we ought to go. I’ll get the bill.’
There was no question of stopping anywhere for kisses of farewell. Apart from Mark’s coughing fit, which did come, everything was different anyway, for they had had their first quarrel. Maybe even their last, for who knew if they would meet again?
‘Mark, I’m worried about you,’ Isla said as they drew up outside the hydro. ‘When you get home, see if the steam kettle will help, then try to rest.’
‘It’s all right, Isla, I know what to do. This will ease off; always does.’
In the dusk of the car, they could barely see each other’s faces, but they needed no vision to recognize the sorrowing of parting. How had they come to this? But Isla knew relationships could only develop or end, and it seemed clear that this one was ending.
‘Perhaps we shouldn’t see each other for a while,’ Mark said, with a struggle, and Isla, though inwardly wincing, was quick to agree.
‘Yes, that would be best. I’ll go now, Mark, so that you can get home quickly. And do get the doctor if you have real trouble.’
‘I will. But let me open the door—’
‘No need. You stay where you are.’
There was no farewell kiss, no pressing of hands, just Isla leaving the car and Mark gazing out at her, and then he was gone, his car’s rear lights the last thing she saw as he drove through the gates and away.
For a long, long moment, she stood by the side door, letting the pain wash over her, breathing hard herself as though she were ill like Mark, until she felt able to face the world in there, in the hydro, and opened the door.
Sixty-Eight
She had decided not to tell anyone – not even her mother – of her parting with Mark. After all, it was her business and Mark’s alone; no one else need know of it – at least, for now. Of course, as time went on, it would become known anyway, and then she might have to say something; in the meantime, she would say nothing.
As the days went by, she was relieved not to see much of Grant Revie, who was caught up in all the work of being the new director, only appearing in the treatment rooms to take over from Dr Morgan, when he had made no effort to speak again to Isla. So, she’d been right all along, and there had been no need for Mark to worry about Grant’s wanting to rake up their old attachment. Yet she didn’t try to deceive herself: what had gone wrong between herself and Mark had had a much deeper cause than Mark’s fear of Grant’s pursuing her again. With no real hope of a solution there, she knew for the time being she couldn’t escape heartache.
Now that there was no fear of seeing Damon Duthie at the little café where he’d worked in the High Street – he and Trina still being in the south, as far as anyone knew – Isla felt safe to go to the café for a snack lunch. Sometimes, she would go with Ellie or Sheana, but sometimes, depending on her shifts, she would just go alone, order eggs on toast and read a book. It was pleasant, she found, not to have to talk with others and pretend to be happy.
On a chill December day, when the café was decorated with paper chains and balloons, she was almost contentedly eating her eggs and reading the paper, when someone slid into the chair opposite hers.
‘Mind if I sit here?’ came a well-known voice, and looking up, her heart plummeting, she saw Grant Revie.
‘Don’t look so startled,’ he said quietly, as he rose to hang up his coat and hat before returning to his seat. ‘I’m only going to have something on toast, like you.’
‘Don’t you have lunch in your flat?’ she asked bluntly. ‘There’s no need for you to come here.’
‘Well, you’re not in my flat, are you? And I want to talk to you.’
‘Grant, this is all a waste of time. We’ve nothing to say to each other.’
‘Hang on – I’ll just put my order in.’
Smiling at the waitress, almost in the old way, he asked for eggs on toast with bacon and tomato, and coffee to follow. ‘Coffee for you, Isla? Make that two coffees, please.’
‘What on earth can you have to say?’ she cried desperately. ‘I don’t even want to listen.’
‘Please, Isla, please listen.’ There were no smiles now on Grant’s face, and the brilliant blue eyes were serious. ‘You’ve no idea how bad I feel when I look at you and think what I did – how I hurt you, how I threw away my chance of real happiness. I know it’s a lot to ask, but would you let me explain just what happened. Please?’
‘I know what happened, Grant. You saw Magda and you realized she was what you wanted, so I had to be dropped. There’s no need for you to explain that.’
He was silent, resting his cheek on his hand and shaking his head.
‘I know it sounds bad, put like that,’ he said at last, ‘but it wasn’t quite the way you think. When I saw Magda, I wasn’t being cool and calculating, as you seem to believe. I was just … bowled over. It was like a thunderbolt – the sort of thing you read about. Love at first sight, no rhyme or reason about it. I couldn’t eat or sleep, or think of anything but her. But the truth is, Isla, the person I fell in love with wasn’t a real woman. Not someone like you, a person who belonged to the world. She was someone I’d sort of created, made for myself – sounds crazy – but nothing to do with Magda.’
‘Eggs, bacon and tomato on toast,’ the waitress intoned, dashing down a large platter in front of Grant. ‘Want your coffee now, or later?’
‘Now, please,’ ordered Isla. ‘I can’t stay long.’
‘Oh, God, how stern you look!’ Grant cried. ‘Don’t you believe what I’ve told you? Doesn’t it explain how I went wrong?’
‘Better eat that before it gets cold, Grant.’
‘I suppose I can’t blame you, for not believing me,’ he muttered, beginning to eat. ‘I lie awake at nights thinking how badly I treated you, but I wasn’t myself – I didn’t know what I was doing.’
‘As a matter of fact, I do sort of believe you,’ Isla told him. ‘I know this sort of thing can happen because it happened to my brother, when he first saw Trina Morris. But if he’d wanted to give some other girl up, he’d have done it more gently than you did, Grant.’
Grant looked down at his plate and pushed it away.
‘You don’t need to tell me how it was,’ he said in a low voice. ‘As I’ve said, I lie awake at nights, remembering it. But if you know how badly I feel, couldn’t you forgive me?’
‘Two coffees,’ said the waitress, looking at Grant’s plate. ‘No’ want that?’
‘Not hungry, after all, I’m afraid.’
When she had removed his plate and left them, Grant reached across to take Isla’s hand.
‘Couldn’t we at least be friends? You liked being with me once, didn’t you?’
‘Things were different then.’ Isla drank her coffee. ‘I don’t really see us being friends after what happened. The thing is I stopped caring for you a long time ago, Grant, and now I care for someone else.’
‘Not Mark Kinnaird?’
Isla’s colour rose. She made no reply.
‘It’s him, isn’t it?’ Grant pressed. ‘I always knew he was keen on you. Most people knew.’
‘I don’t want to talk about him.’
Stirring his coffee, Grant studied her averted face.
‘It’s not going well, though, is it?’ he asked softly. ‘I know how people look when they’re happy, and since I came back, you haven’t looked happy.’
Isla stood up. ‘I have to go. I’m due back on duty.’
‘Wait, I’ll pay the bill.’
‘Not for me; I’ll pay my own.’
‘Oh, come on, what’s a couple of bob?’
She shrugged and went for her coat. ‘Thanks, then.’
Outside, as they faced the bleakness of the afternoon, he made no move to leave her, though she’d been waiting for him to say t
hey shouldn’t walk back together. Of course, he is the boss now, she remembered, half smiling. He can do what he likes.
Turning to him, she continued to smile.
‘Know what’s happened to Magda now, Grant? And my brother, Boyd?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘They’re in love.’
He almost stopped in his tracks, but recovered himself, trying not to show his chagrin.
‘Handsome Boyd and Magda? How did that happen?’
‘He’s on a teacher training course in Edinburgh, she’s at the art college, they met in the street one day and it went on from there.’
Grant laughed. ‘Good luck to them, then. As you know, my feelings for her are quite dead, but she’s very beautiful – they’ll make a handsome pair.’
‘And they really are happy,’ Isla said quietly, to which Grant made no reply.
Only when they reached the hydro did he halt and put his hand on Isla’s arm.
‘I haven’t given up,’ he told her. ‘I still believe we might be friends again, and perhaps more than that. Who knows?’
‘You don’t really care about being friends with me, Grant,’ Isla replied, her grey eyes wintry. ‘You just want to feel good about yourself, and if I don’t come running back to you, that’s not so easy, is it? It would be best if we just stay out of each other’s way.’
He shook his head. ‘You still don’t understand me, Isla. I’ve changed, and just for once I’m not thinking of myself. But we’ll talk again, eh?’
Not if I can help it, she thought, as they entered the hydro and parted.
Sixty-Nine
‘They really are happy,’ Isla had said of Boyd and Magda, and this was true.
So true that when they were sitting out in a secluded corridor after an eightsome reel at the art college Christmas dance, Magda suddenly said, ‘Boyd, why don’t we get married?’
‘Married?’ He stared, then laughed. ‘Now, how many glasses of punch have you been drinking?’
‘Boyd, I’m serious. Look, I know women aren’t supposed to do the asking, but as you haven’t come up with the question, I thought I’d ask it myself. So, think about it.’
As she leaned forward towards him, her face so deeply flushed and her green eyes so strangely bright, she did give the impression of being a little the worse for drink, though Boyd knew it wasn’t so. If she was drunk, it was on excitement and – yes – love, which was not surprising to him, considering the fact that he felt that way himself. But such feelings were dangerous, not to be taken seriously. To do so could lead to ‘morning after’ regrets, which could be long-term if you actually went about tying legal knots.
‘Why should you be serious about getting married?’ he asked lightly. ‘You’re far too young.’
‘I’ll soon be nineteen. Loads of girls get married at nineteen – and younger!’
‘And spend how long regretting it?’
‘Why should they regret it?’
‘Because they’re so young – they’re still changing, becoming different. Maybe falling out of love with the one they’ve married.’ Boyd’s look was now grave. ‘Too late then to do anything about it.’
‘Are you saying that could be me?’ Magda demanded. ‘That I could fall out of love with you?’
‘You could realize you’d made a mistake. I was years older than you and I made a mistake, didn’t I? I fell out of love with Trina.’
‘Only after she’d let you down, Boyd. We wouldn’t do that to each other.’ Magda took Boyd’s hand. ‘I know I’ve found the one I want. With you, I’m at ease, I’m happy. Not difficult, like I used to be.’
‘You’ve never been difficult with me,’ he agreed softly. ‘And if I make you happy, that’s grand. But I can’t let you take the risk of marrying me – at least, not yet.’
‘Not yet?’ Her face brightened. ‘What does that mean, then?’
‘It means we wait. See how things go. And give me time to save up after I finish the course and get a job. I’d need to do that, Magda.’
‘I’ve got money—’
‘No.’ He released his hand from hers. ‘I know I’m old-fashioned, but I want to provide the home. Would you mind about that?’
‘Not if I could contribute – I mean, add things I’d like. That would be fair, wouldn’t it?’
‘Sure, it would.’ Looking round to see if anyone was watching, Boyd quickly held Magda close and kissed her. ‘Shall we leave it like that, then? We wait. And see.’
‘I won’t change, Boyd.’
‘Nor will I. But we’ll just take our time.’
For some moments, they gazed into each other’s eyes, thinking of the step they had newly taken together.
Then Magda asked quietly, ‘Boyd, would you like to see my father some time?’
‘Your father?’ Boyd’s face had taken on a hunted expression. ‘Oh, God, Magda, I’d be terrified. I’ve never dared to suggest it. Supposing he throws me out?’
‘He won’t. I’ll just say you’ve been a good friend to me since I moved to Edinburgh. Oh, Boyd, will you see him?’
‘Of course. It’s just that – well, you know how it is. But I will see him. I want to. It’s been worrying me for some time, that we’ve never told him about us.’
‘There’s your parents to see, too, Boyd. I’d like so much to meet them.’
‘And you’ll also be a friend?’ he asked wryly. ‘All right, we’ll see all the parents without putting too much into words, eh? And then we’ll feel better.’
He ran his hands through his hair and shook his head.
‘But I just wish we could be on our own now, instead of being surrounded by other people. Why don’t we leave early?’
‘Too late!’ cried Magda as a group of people she knew came up to seize her and Boyd by the hands and pull them from their seats.
‘Come on, you lovebirds!’ they cried. ‘Stop skulking round here and get back to the dancing. There’s a sixteensome starting up and we want feet on the floor!’
‘I’ll need a drink before a sixteensome,’ said Boyd, joining in the laughter, but he was borne away with Magda to the ballroom, where he forgot about leaving early.
Seventy
On her free Sunday afternoon, two weeks before Christmas, Isla arrived for tea with her parents to be met by Nan at the front door in a state of quivering excitement.
‘You’ll never guess who’s here!’ she said in a stage whisper, drawing Isla into the hall. ‘Never in a thousand years!’
‘Tell me, then,’ Isla said, laughing, as she took off her coat and hat. ‘Though I’ll see in a minute anyway.’
‘Yes, but I’ll tell you first.’ Still whispering, Nan put her face close to Isla’s. ‘It’s Boyd and Miss Lorne! Doctor Lorne’s daughter – can you believe it! With our Boyd? She’s asked me to call her Magda. Boyd says she’s just a friend, but honestly, you’ve just got to look at them—’
‘Ma, calm down a bit, eh? And let’s go in. Where are they?’
‘In the parlour, of course. Your dad’s lit the fire and we’ve plenty for tea, but they should have let me know they were coming—’
‘Come on, Ma,’ Isla said firmly and, taking Nan’s arm, moved with her into the parlour, where Will was looking dazed on the sofa and Boyd and Magda were sitting either side of the fireplace, looking very happy and rather pleased with themselves.
‘Isla!’ cried Boyd, leaping up, as his father rose too and came to hug her. ‘Never expected to see you today!’
‘What a bit of luck,’ said Magda, who was eye-catching as usual in a dark blue woollen dress with a matching scarf. ‘We really only came on the spur of the moment. Should have given some notice.’
‘That’s quite all right,’ said Nan breathlessly. ‘We’re just so happy to meet you, Miss Lorne.’
‘Magda, please.’
‘Yes, so happy,’ said Isla, smiling and shaking Magda’s hand, then clapping her brother on the back. ‘It’s grand to see you both. You’ve not bee
n over to the hydro lately, Boyd.’
‘Not since Grant Revie took over from Doctor Lorne,’ he agreed, glancing at Magda, whose face had lost its smile. ‘We’re not too happy about that, are we, Magda?’
‘Not happy at all,’ she replied coldly.
‘I’ll make the tea,’ said Nan. ‘Everything else is ready. Will, come and give me a hand, eh?’
‘I can do that,’ Isla offered, but Nan shook her head.
‘No, you stay and talk to Boyd and … Magda. We won’t be but a few minutes. Come on, Will.’
There was a little silence when the young people were alone, until Isla smiled and asked, ‘Well, what did you tell them?’
‘Just what we told my father,’ Magda answered. ‘That we’d become good friends since we met in Edinburgh.’ She laughed a little. ‘Only he didn’t altogether believe it.’
‘I was in a state, having to see him,’ said Boyd, shaking his head. ‘Isla, I was like a wee laddie starting school or something, but he was so nice, so friendly, I couldn’t believe it. Like Magda says, he saw through us straight away, but he said we were right to take our time, make sure of what we were doing, and if it all worked out for us – well, he’d be happy.’
‘The thing is, Isla, he thinks we’re right for each other,’ Magda told her seriously. ‘He thinks I need someone like Boyd – very steady, very conscientious, but ambitious, too – and he thinks Boyd needs me.’ She looked across to Boyd. ‘Why did he think you needed me, Boyd?’
‘Ah, he didn’t exactly say, but he was sure you’d be right for me.’ Boyd came over to take her hand. ‘As though you wouldn’t be!’
‘So now you want the folks to accept your story?’ Isla asked. ‘I mean of being very helpful friends? I think they’ll be just like your dad, Magda, and see through you, but they won’t say anything. At least, not until you’re ready tell them the truth. But it’s really nice you’ve come to see them – they’re thrilled.’
‘I think they’re lovely people,’ Magda said earnestly. ‘I hope they’ll like me.’