by Iris Danbury
She rummaged in the small locker by the stern, but there was nothing there except an old newspaper. The weather had recently been so fine and cloudless that all waterproof clothing had apparently been removed.
She shook her head. Although his words were torn away by the wind she knew that he was cursing someone’s carelessness as well as his own. There was not even a bowl or tin can to use to bail out the water.
At last the gale and Cameron’s hard pulling brought the boat towards the narrow end of the loch. He leaned forward and shouted at her. ‘The wind will force us on shore. Be ready to jump when I say or else you’ll be thrown out of the boat as she beaches.’
He had shipped his oars and now his back was towards her as he waited for the moment when the boat would ground. But now wind and wave refused to help him and for a minute or two the boat drifted madly until it was broadside to the shore.
Fenella, seeing the danger that the boat would probably turn turtle, seized one of the oars and twisted the boat continually from one side, rowing frantically against the forceful gale.
Suddenly Cameron shouted ‘Now!’ but as he leapt into the water a yard from the wet grassy shore, the loss of his weight upset the boat’s precarious balance. Fenella lurched to the side and before she could regain her own balance found herself tipped into the water. There was little danger at this end of the loch, she well knew, for the slope was gentle if muddy. Her feet touched bottom, then Cameron’s hands gripped her wrists and dragged her to the bank, where she lay for a moment to catch her breath.
When she struggled to a sitting position she saw that he had already hauled the boat up far enough to be safe and had turned it over to empty out the water.
He came towards her. They had both been so wet with rain and spray in the boat that the fact that they had been plunged into the loch hardly mattered.
‘What now? How far is this part from the nearest road?’ he asked.
‘Not far,’ she answered through chattering teeth.
‘Then we’ll get home as fast as possible.’
She took off her cardigan and squeezed water out of it. Her hair was in long rats’ tails and she pushed it away from her face.
He took her arm and together they plunged through the birch wood. The rain had eased, but the gale howled and tore through the branches.
‘We should be bone dry by the time we reach the road,’ remarked Fenella. ‘A drying wind for the laundry we stand up in.’ She sneezed.
‘Hot baths and hot drinks are what we need,’ grunted Cameron.
She suddenly stopped. ‘Cameron, it’s nearly six miles along the road to the hotel. How on earth shall we get there?’
‘There’s a telephone box somewhere just along there. I’ll get someone to come from the hotel and fetch us.’
He was dragging her along with him again. ‘We mustn’t waste time by standing about,’ he continued.
Her shoes, thin summer sandals, were so sogged that they were almost falling to pieces, and but for the rough ground, she would have discarded them and walked barefoot.
At the pace he forced, she had little breath available for discourse, but one thought gradually rose uppermost in her mind. Cameron’s authority as manager would surely suffer grievously if the entire staff learned of this disastrous boating trip with one of his receptionists. How could Cameron arrive at the Gairmorlie in such a dishevelled state?
‘There’s a house near here, Trachan Lodge, and I know the people there,’ she said. ‘We could telephone from there, or they would lend us a car probably.’
‘Good idea. We shouldn’t have to wait for transport then to come from the Gairmorlie.’
In a few minutes they arrived at the house. ‘We’ll say we were caught in the rain squall,’ suggested Fenella. ‘No need to disclose that we fell in the loch.’
The hint of a smile curved Cameron’s mouth. ‘All right. I don’t mind if you don’t want to admit that your companion tipped you out of the boat.’
‘I’m doing it for your sake!’ she protested angrily. ‘What sort of image as the Gairmorlie manager are you going to have if you can’t row a boat in a squall?’
‘Good grief!’ he exclaimed. ‘Must I have every imaginable athletic skill? D’you think I’ve never capsized out of a canoe in Canada?’
‘Yes, I daresay. Most likely you went over Niagara Falls, and lived to tell the tale. Be quiet, we’re here.’
At Trachan Lodge, Fenella’s friends were indeed helpful, offering dry clothing as well as a roomy old car which the grandfather of the house insisted on driving.
Fenella said, ‘We could drive it to the hotel and send it back for you.’
‘No, no. No trouble at all.’ Old Grandpa Fraser was eager to play the good Samaritan.
Cameron flinched several times on the journey when Mr. Fraser’s brakes screeched, but, as Fenella quietly pointed out, a slow six-mile ride was better than walking or waiting for transport to pick up her and Cameron.
Fortunately, at the hotel, no one seemed to have missed the manager. Fenella was off duty anyway.
‘Hot bath followed by hot whisky toddy is what I prescribe,’ Cameron said. ‘Stay in bed and I’ll get Laurie to take over your stint.’
‘I shall be all right,’ Fenella protested, but sneezed again.
‘Do as I say, Fenella,’ he said quietly. ‘I don’t want you landed with a chill or ’flu.’
‘What about you?’ she queried. ‘Supposing you land yourself with a chill?’
At that moment Laurie came out of the reception office.
‘Are you all right, Cameron?’ she asked. ‘Someone said you were caught in the storm on the loch. Did the boat sink?’
‘Heavens, no,’ he reassured her. ‘We landed at the far end of the loch and came home by car.’
‘Thank goodness, I was so worried.’ Laurie gave a relieved sigh.
Fenella watching a startling transient scene. The upward look that Laurie gave Cameron was one of plain adoration, but his returning glance held infinite tenderness.
Abruptly, Fenella turned and raced upstairs to her own room. She took a hot shower, rubbed her body until it glowed, washed her hair, dried it with a hand-drier, brushed it into shape, sipped the hot toddy that a maid had brought into her room. All the time while she acted mechanically, doing all the right things to ward off a cold, she was thinking only one thought. A single afternoon’s events had changed her whole outlook.
She and Cameron had spoken lightly of a catalyst that would make up her mind for her about marrying Alex. From the moment she had been so disturbed by Cameron’s glance she sensed that the catalyst had appeared. If no sudden rainstorm had altered their plans and they had calmly returned to the boathouse, perhaps she could have disregarded the brief episode, but in the shared discomfort, if not actual danger, she realized that Cameron was the man with whom she might be glad to share future discomforts.
It was ridiculous to find oneself drawn towards him like a magnet. Just hero-worship, she told herself tersely. She was no more sensible than Laurie. But there was the rub. Cameron was drawn to Laurie, he gave her his loving glances. This afternoon he had enquired of Fenella about Laurie’s progress as receptionist. He wanted to hear her praises sung.
Fenella, wrapped in a warm dressing gown, went to her father’s room. She wondered if he had heard of the loch escapade and, if so, she must reassure him that she had come to no harm.
‘I hear you were out in the rain,’ he said.
‘How did everyone know that?’ she countered.
‘Oh, someone down at the lochside cafe said that Cameron had taken out a boat with you and was caught in the storm.’
‘Oh, we were all right. We went down to the far end and the Frasers at Trachan Lodge lent us a car.’
She and her father talked of other matters, especially the success of the hotel.
‘He’s got drive and energy and guts,’ her father said warmly, referring to Cameron.
‘You’d have done as well
if you’d had his resources,’ she answered loyally.
‘He’s younger, of course, but I’d never have thought of his ideas even when I was a young man. I suppose I was too content to jog along.’
‘There’s something to be said for jogging along, Father.’ Her tone was unconsciously sharp.
‘Don’t you like Cameron? I thought you were on good terms with each other.’ Her father looked surprised.
‘Of course. The best of terms,’ she answered smoothly. For how long? she wondered. When the rawness of her painful discovery hurt less, would she be able to remain in the hotel, watching the growing awareness of Cameron and Laurie towards each other?
With sudden hope she remembered that she had been trained for a career, not in hotels, but the world of fashion. She had promised Cameron to stay until the end of the summer season and she would adhere to that, but in the meantime she would start enquires for available posts in London or Paris or as far away as possible from Scotland.
She had long since sub-let her flat in London, but no doubt if she were needed for interview, she could move in with a friend or stay a couple of nights at an hotel.
She decided not to mention the suggestion to her father yet, in case he might think that she was anxious to leave him almost as soon as he came back to live at the Gairmorlie.
The wedding reception on Saturday proved Cameron’s capacity for showmanship coupled with backstage efficiency. A pipe band preceded the bridal pair when their car entered the drive and from that moment until nearly midnight everything appeared to go according to plan. If there were mishaps then only the kitchen staff knew.
Fenella had taken the precaution of having a quick preliminary view of the pavilion before the wedding party arrived. Instead of the usual top table, Alvaro had fitted small tables together in the form of a large crescent. All the other guests would be seated at smaller crescent tables facing, so that no one had his back to the main guests.
The cake was a triumph of Gustave, the young Swiss pastry cook. From a solidly square edifice rose a wondrous confection with the top layers in the form of initials—‘C’ for Catriona, the bride, and ‘H’ for Hector, her groom, the two separate cakes joined by delicately pink hands.
All the flower and other decorations in the pavilion were mainly white, to set off the brilliant tartans of the guests.
Fenella had never seen such an array of kilted men when car after car deposited its passengers.
‘They quite outshine all the women,’ she remarked to Mrs. Robertson.
‘Peacocks they are,’ said the other. ‘Never so happy as when they’ve a bit o’ music to set the kilt swinging. My Harry’s just the same. Give him the chance of a “do” and he’s dressing up along with the rest.’
Laurie was entranced with every detail of the wedding paraphernalia and her eyes shone as she spoke of the small incidents and scenes she had snatched time to see.
‘Oh, Fenella, how lucky we are to be Scots!’ she exclaimed. ‘If you marry Alex, you’ll be able to have all the clans, so don’t you dare marry an Englishman!’
‘I hadn’t thought about that yet,’ murmured Fenella, a little infected in spite of herself by the general air of gaiety all over the hotel.
‘But you should—think about it, I mean,’ pursued Laurie. ‘I’m glad I’ve—’ she broke off, blushing furiously and turned her face away.
On another occasion Fenella might have teased the other girl, finishing the sentence for her, but now she was sure she knew what would have been those last words. I’m glad I’ve fallen in love with Cameron.
Alex called during the afternoon, suggesting that Fenella might like to walk with him somewhere.
‘Sorry, Alex, but I’m on duty.’
‘Oh, hell! Then let Laurie do your stint.’
Mrs. Robertson interposed quietly, ‘You go, Miss Sutherland. Miss McNicol can stay here when I go to my tea.’
In a way, Fenella regretted that Mrs. Robertson had been so co-operative. She did not particularly want to stroll anywhere with Alex, much less ride in his car.
Then, surprisingly, Fenella was given the chance to escape, for when she and Alex stepped out of the hotel entrance Miriam came from the direction of the sun lounge. Fenella thought long afterwards that perhaps Miriam had been waiting there to watch for Alex.
‘Hallo, Alex!’ Miriam greeted him. Then she looked at Fenella.
‘I thought you were taking a few peeps at the de luxe wedding affair,’ she said.
‘Actually, I’m supposed to be on duty, but Alex—’
Miriam interrupted quickly. ‘Then you won’t mind if I buttonhole Alex for half an hour or so.’ She gave Fenella a most charming smile as she linked her arm in that of Alex and almost forced him to turn and walk away down the drive towards the road.
Fenella stood motionless for a few moments. What was happening now? Could Laurie have been right after all, that Miriam had set her sights on Alex? Yet Miriam had urged Fenella not to delay in marrying Alex.
Oh, it was all too puzzling. Hotel life was apparently criss-crossed with tangled emotions, half-motives, contradictions and other conflicting responses. The sooner September arrived, the better. Then Fenella could leave the Gairmorlie and its agitating excitements.
CHAPTER NINE
Fenella was glad that the high season rush was building up in June, for she was kept very busy indeed, especially now that Cameron had put her in charge of excursions and tours arranged for the guests if they wanted them.
‘You know the district better than almost anyone else,’ Cameron had said. ‘You can advise visitors about the fishing, the best trout streams and lochs and so on.’
‘My father is the expert on that subject,’ she suggested.
‘Then you can get your information from him. Also, I have sets of leaflets about stately homes and other places of interest within reasonable distance. But I want you to go out on a round of visits yourself, so that you can give absolutely first-hand information. It’s useless telling people without cars that you believe there’s a bus at three-thirty.’ She listened to his instructions and it did not occur to her to protest about extra work. She was only too glad to have all her time fully occupied.
‘Our own boats are available on the loch,’ he continued, ‘but since our adventurous day I’ve had them all examined for defects and have given strict orders that no boat is ever to be taken out on the loch, however calm or fine the weather, unless it carries oilskins in the locker. I don’t want the responsibility of hotel guests drowning on holiday.’ She smiled at that point. ‘Didn’t it matter if I was nearly drowned?’
‘You can swim, can’t you? Besides, neither of us came very close to drowning. We were just exceedingly wet.’
‘It was your idea to accompany me,’ she pointed out.
‘Just as well,’ he retorted.
‘Oh, no, I should never have ventured so far from the shore when I saw the bad weather coming up.’
‘How wise can you be after the event!’ he exclaimed.
‘Next year we’ll start sailing on the loch. I’ve two new boats for that, but I’ll have a professional master to teach those who don’t know how to avoid a crack on the nut when the boom swings. Pony-trekking, too. Plenty of people would like a go at that. Alex McNicol says he might co-operate on this.’
‘Alex doesn’t keep ponies. He has a few horses for some of the farm work where the tractors are unsuitable.’
Cameron gazed provocatively at her. ‘Luckily he’s open to new ideas, which is more than you usually are, Fenella.’
She was furious with herself for blushing fiery pink at that jibe. She had laid herself wide open to the newest and least sensible idea of all—falling in love with her managerial boss.
She welcomed the chance of these pioneering visits, for she discovered a new interest in parts of the Scottish scene with which she was not really familiar. On these jaunts sometimes she was accompanied by her father, who made suggestions about places he had not s
een since he was a boy. Glens and woods, tiny hidden lochs and streams which had rewarded him with a heavyweight salmon.
Occasionally Alex drove with her when he could spare the time, and together they sampled tea-room facilities in villages or hill farmhouses.
‘What next after you’ve done all this travel survey, Fenella?’ he asked her one day as they walked down a steep path to a tiny village tucked in a fold of the hills.
‘Back to the reception grind,’ she answered. ‘No more outings. Only suggesting itineraries to visitors.’
‘I didn’t mean that,’ he said. ‘I was thinking more of your future.’
Fenella sought for words that would not hurt him while she told him the truth, or at least part of the truth.
‘I’ve written to several fashion houses in London, but I haven’t fixed anything yet. Also one in Edinburgh.’ She did not reveal that so far the prospects had not been too encouraging and she realized that she would have to make personal contacts with head-designers before she could hope to land a job.
‘That means you won’t be staying on at the Gairmorlie?’ he queried.
‘It was only a temporary arrangement in the first place, partly because of my father’s illness—partly other things.’ Fenella had expected Alex to renew his offer that she could marry him instead of bothering about posts in London or Edinburgh or anywhere else, but he remained silent, tramping beside her with a dour face. He was so different from the Alex she had known and with whom she had been on such harmonious terms.
‘What’s wrong, Alex?’ She almost threw the question at him before she could frame it in a more subtle way or he could evade a reply.
He sighed deeply. ‘Sometimes I wish I could get away from it all, but I’m tied here.’
‘You mean your farm and your home?’
‘Everything. Scotland. The whole place. I’d like to clear off to the other side of the world and start afresh.’
‘But why? You’ve never complained about having to follow your father. Was there something else you wanted to do?’