Highland Interlude

by Lucilla Andrews

He smiled faintly. ‘You surely like to lead with your chin! Not all that bad, maybe, but not too good. I have to leave you again. I have to fly down to London right after leaving you now. I do not want to go, but I have to do that.’

  He looked so upset now that I was almost ashamed at my own relief. ‘Problems in the motor industry?’ He nodded. ‘There doesn’t seem much percentage in being your own boss if you can’t leave yourself alone to enjoy a holiday.’

  ‘I don’t object to having my vacation interrupted. I just do not care to leave you.’ He came back, sat on my locker-seat, and took one of my hands in both of his. ‘Do you recall that talk we did not finish my first visit with you in here?’

  ‘Yes, but does it have to be finished? Does it even matter?’

  ‘I would say it does.’ He brushed his face against the back of my hand. ‘I would say I owe it to you. Care to hear me out?’

  ‘If that’s really what you want?’

  He said simply, ‘What I want right now, honey, is you. It’s all right ‒ it’s all right ‒’ he added quickly, ‘you do not have to tell me that is not what you want right now. I can figure that each time I touch you. Maybe before you took sick ‒ maybe after, when you are well ‒ maybe. Not right now. Right now one chaste kiss, and, as you would say, that is your lot!’

  ‘Yes. Thanks. I’d guessed you understood. I just hoped you felt the same.’

  His eyes laughed. ‘Baby, I have not been poorly sick. But this does not explain why I first held out on you, though, obviously, it was why I wanted to get acquainted with you. I didn’t tell you’ ‒ he hesitated ‒ ‘I guess because I was scared.’

  ‘Scared I’d be after your money?’

  He met my eyes. ‘It’s happened before. I hoped it wouldn’t happen with you. I didn’t figure it would, but I had to be careful for a reason that may sound crazy.’

  ‘I’ll tell you if it does.’

  ‘You do that.’ He was now looking at me as if I were a painting. ‘Do you also recall my telling you last time I was over I stopped in Edinburgh?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I met a girl there. You look so like her she could have been your sister. You even talk the same way and have the same cute accent. And she was a nurse. Quite a coincidence?’

  ‘Yes.’ I was very interested. ‘Go on.’

  ‘I was all of twenty then, and she was one year older. I didn’t just fall for her, Elizabeth. I loved that girl, I surely did.’ He stopped speaking for several seconds and went on staring at me. He was not seeing me at all. ‘I was a brash, spoilt kid who thought he knew all the answers. Back home I was the cute kid they all loved to love. So she had to love me back.’

  ‘She didn’t?’

  ‘Just the bank-roll, honey. Just that.’

  ‘Oh. Yes. You’re sure?’

  ‘Sure I’m sure. She told me herself. One night I took her to some party and she was real loaded. I was off the liquor that night, I’d picked up some kind of an intestinal germ and wasn’t feeling too good. You know what it’s like when you’re the only one at the party who isn’t stoned. It was one good party,’ he said bitterly, ‘if not for little Archie. It was way out of Edinburgh, and I stopped on the road home to have it out with her. We had quite a talk, and then I got real mad and drove on. It was raining hard. I drove too fast.’ Suddenly, he shuddered. ‘I did not even see the truck until I hit it. Then I blacked out. I woke up in hospital. They did not tell me until the next day.’

  My throat was tight. ‘She was dead?’ I asked unnecessarily in view of the expression on his face.

  ‘Her neck broke when she hit the windshield.’

  ‘My dear. I’m so sorry.’

  He nodded, absently. ‘They were all real nice to me. Wet road, raining, darkness, and maybe I’d been driving too fast, but there was no alcohol in my blood, no speed limit on the open road, anyone could have a blow-out ‒ which made me the poor kid in the clear.’

  ‘Court case?’

  ‘Just a formality.’ He paused. ‘My old man flew over. He went to see her folks. They were as good to him as they’d been to me when they came up for the court case.’

  ‘They must’ve known you loved her.’

  ‘Holy Christ, Elizabeth, I did! I surely did.’ He let go of my hand and looked at his. ‘So now you know why I don’t care to drive.’

  He left a few minutes later. Craig came in directly he had gone, looked at me hard, then rehung the ‘No Visitors’ sign on the outside of my door without exchanging a single word with me. I was very grateful, though it took me some time to stop feeling like the ghost of a girl whose name I still didn’t know. I wondered how long it would take Archie to stop seeing me in that light ‒ and if he ever would.

  Chapter Nine

  A VERY GENTLE GHOST

  Archie’s business affairs kept him in London very much longer than he had anticipated. He rang me regularly and bemoaned the fact at such length that it occasionally occurred to me to wonder if he were not protesting a little too much. Then I felt ungenerous in the extreme, since from one of Craig’s many boy-friends I learnt Archie’s hotel room remained reserved and he had left behind his fishing tackle.

  But whatever the real cause of his absence, the more I thought on it, the more convinced I was that the breathing-space was a mutual godsend. Though, in theory, I was perfectly happy to lend Archie a mental shoulder, in practice I still hadn’t the energy. And as he had now opened up his emotional flood-gates, had he continued to see me daily as previously, it was unlikely that he would have found it easy to close them again. I hoped this break would help him to do that. He was now so emotionally involved with me that he had to be right away before he could begin to see me in anything like the proper perspective. My resemblance to his former girl-friend could have confused him enough on its own, but on top of that, though he might not know it yet, he was still being pressured by the emotional stress of my illness. That such stress could temporarily distort the outlook, and even the entire personality of a relative, friend, or any member of the staff concerned with a very ill patient, was now taken so seriously at Martha’s that for the last few years the student nurses had been given special courses of lectures on the subject.

  I remembered our psychiatrist saying: ‘This lecture won’t save some of you nurses from becoming temporarily over-emotionally involved with some patient at some time or other. But by helping you to recognize the condition exists I hope that may help to prove a less traumatic experience. Without help it can be exceedingly traumatic. And if you should recognize it in yourselves, whatever else you feel don’t feel guilty. I say that, not merely as there are few greater emotional spurs than guilt, though that fact is worth bearing in mind, but because there is no cause for guilt in this context. I’m not a nurse, but observation and experience have convinced me that on some occasions it must be as impossible to maintain an emotional detachment and nurse successfully as it is to remain unemotionally involved during a successful sexual intercourse.’

  There my class had exchanged one of those ‘here we go back to sex’ glances and stopped listening. Most of us had been exchanging those glances in other classes since we were sixth-formers, and particularly at Sixth Form Conferences. At every conference I had been to, whatever the official subject, every speaker had talked sex at us. Once my form complained in a body to our headmistress. She said mildly, ‘I’m sorry you feel sex is being thrust down your throats, my dears, but it is rather important.’

  Mrs Pringle would agree. After reflecting on Dougal and Maury, then Archie and my own earlier reactions to him, I wished I had paid more attention to those lectures. Without my family history first and then my illness to act as emotional brakes, had I seen much more of Archie I could very easily have mistaken a great physical attraction for love. Unless I was very wrong, before Archie left Gairlie he had been on the brink of the same error, and even now, though possibly keeping away intentionally, given any real encouragement, I was fairly sure he’d kid himself he wanted to
marry me.

  Would that be such a mistake? We did like each other. He said he wanted me, in return he’d give me undreamed-of security. Yet, having had to rely on myself for these past four years had resulted in my being much less scared of insecurity than my friends with large families. In ten years’ time I might be tempted to marry for it; in twenty years I’d probably bitterly regret I hadn’t. But I was not marrying a man I didn’t love and who didn’t love me at twenty-two to provide myself with a financial cushion when I hit the menopause.

  It took me a few days to think all this out. I had finally renounced Archie as a future husband and was feeling smugly noble one evening when Miss Donald pottered in to my room to say she was being discharged next day.

  I was sitting in my armchair.

  ‘No, no, dear. We mustn’t disturb you. Let me tuck that blanket round you again. There.’ She sat on the locker and folded her hands in her lap. ‘Did we enjoy our stroll along to the ward?’

  ‘Loved it. I feel fine now. I just wished Sister Kilsyth would let me do more than amble round gently nattering to one and all. They’re so hectic along there.’

  ‘I’ve yet to see our good sister off her feet. But she is too wise to overtax your strength. Ah!’ Wee Gordon had knocked and was pushing in the portable telephone trolley. ‘If our young man is due to make his nightly call I’ll be on my way.’

  Gordon plugged in the portable. ‘I doubt Mr MacDonald’ll be through before another thirty minutes, Miss Donald.’

  I said, ‘Thanks for shoving that in, Gordon, but I’m not even sure I’ll get a call tonight. It’s not fixed.’

  ‘Och, he’ll be through.’ Gordon winked. ‘Money to burn has Mr MacDonald.’

  Miss Donald said she thought that was just as it should be as poor Mr MacDonald must be missing dear Miss Wade sadly in London. ‘A fine city. I was there years ago with my dear Miss Christie. You’ll be anxious to be back.’

  With Miss Donald I could be honest. ‘I’ll be glad to get back to work. Strictly between ourselves, I’m not all that keen on my next step.’

  ‘It’s been arranged?’

  ‘Yes. I had a letter from my Matron at Martha’s’ this morning. She’s booked me a room in some guest-house-cum-convalescent home at Hove. It’s run by an old Martha’s nurse and caters mainly for sick nurses and doctors. I expect it’ll be fine, just as I’m sure the one you’re off to tomorrow’ll be fine. But, like you, being used to being independent, the prospect of being fussed over when I’m not ill doesn’t exactly entrance.’

  She smiled, very sweetly. ‘We have much in common, dear, so you’ll not mind a little advice?’ She laid one thin hand on mine. ‘Don’t be too independent. The years go so fast and the coinage of youth wears thin when one is not as young as one was. But I’m fretting you to no purpose. You’ll be marrying shortly, and marriage, I’ve often observed, is not an independent state for a woman. May I ask’ ‒ her eyes shone ‒ ‘is it really right he’s Calum MacDonald’s grandson?’

  I hadn’t the heart to disillusion her. She had so little, as well as so little time left. ‘Yes.’

  She sighed pleasurably. ‘It’s like a fairy-story!’

  I let her dream a few seconds, then talked about Christine. ‘Isn’t it splendid she’s doing so well?’

  ‘My dear, the joy of seeing the relief and thankfulness in her parents’ faces! So much joy!’ She looked round my room. ‘I’ll tell you in confidence, dearie, that when I heard I’d to come to this hospital for my small operation I was a little frightened. All my life I’ve enjoyed such good health, and dear Miss Christie was only ill at home two days before she passed away from that stroke. Not having been in hospital before, I thought to find here only sadness and pain and ugliness. It’s but one wee side of the picture, all that. Is it the same in St Martha’s?’

  I nodded. ‘There’s an old hospital maxim: “The mud and the stars are present in every hospital ward. Which one sees depends on oneself.” Of course it’s true. What’s equally true, but seldom remarked on, is the laughter. Haven’t you noticed how much laughter there is in any ward?’

  ‘So frequently that it’s occurred to me I’ve not laughed so much since I was a young girl. I am so grateful for all the kindness I have received here. I don’t mind telling you, dear, I’ve no wish to leave ‒’ The telephone began ringing. ‘The faithful Mr MacDonald! I must let you have your nice little talk in private. See you in the morning.’

  Archie was too glum for any nice little talk. His business deal had gotten itself loused up; it was pouring with rain in London; he had just spent fifty minutes sitting in a taxi in a traffic jam; he thought he was starting one of his real nasty head colds; if he was starting one he did not know when he would shake the darned thing off.

  I made sympathetic noises, suggested vitamin tablets, oranges, a hot bath, hot toddy, aspirins, and an early night. He said he would try the lot, but did not expect anything to work, as when he took cold he surely suffered. ‘What’s news with you, Elizabeth ‒ and make it good!’

  So I gave him the latest Gairlie Hospital gossip, but did not mention Hove. The thought of that project was like lead in the pit of my stomach. Mention it, and I’d start wailing too. Archie had been very good to me and, for quite a while, for me. Lending a shoulder at long range was far less exhausting than in person, but all the same I was so relieved when he rang off that I wondered if I needed vitamin tablets. Or perhaps I was short of iron? Or just guts?

  The portable telephone was wanted in one of the Wards. Gordon escorted in Dougal when he came to collect it. ‘The Professor’s been waiting on you these last ten minutes, Miss Wade.’

  I apologized to Dougal. He said the delay had given him the opportunity to catch a word with Hamish MacAlistair, as well as enjoy a talk with my friend Miss Donald. ‘I gather MacAlistair’s told you that you’ll fly back to London only over his dead body?’

  I smiled faintly. ‘Yes. As I have to have his consent to satisfy Martha’s, that’s out.’

  ‘But, as I think you are also aware, he’s not too happy at the thought of your taking that long journey directly you leave hospital. Why don’t you delay your return for a few days and spend them at Achnagairl House? You’ll be most welcome, and though the children will be gone, as Mrs Cameron is now back with us and Mrs Pringle remaining for the time being to help her sister get the house straight after the exodus, that’ll take care of the local conventions. What do you say?’

  I had been rehearsing my answer to this invitation he had no alternative to making ever since MacAlistair stomped round my room muttering darkly about the long car and train journey. Dougal never burdened me with problems, but every visit he paid me added to the debt I owed him. If I added much more to it the weight would be crushing. ‘It’s very kind of you, Dougal, but I think I should go straight back to London. And I’ll be going from hospital to hospital, as my Matron wants me to stay a day or so in Martha’s before going on to Brighton. If I know her she’ll have our S.M.O. lined up to listen to my chest directly I get out of the taxi. I think I should get straight back. After all, I only came up for one week-end.’

  For once he gave in, instantly. ‘I can appreciate how you feel, but should you change your mind at any time the offer remains open.’

  ‘Thank you very much.’

  ‘Not at all.’

  We were silent, and the silence was as strained as those first silences in my first week in Gairlie. Then we both started talking about the children. Tomorrow was the last day of their holiday. I asked if he was doing anything special with them?

  ‘If this weather holds we’re all going a little way up the west face of the Ben to watch the Trials Charlie Urquhart always holds on the final day of his holiday school. The twins are in a fever of excitement. Robin’s strongly tipped for the Beginners’ Medal. Then, after the Trials, Charlie throws a farewell party for his students and their families. As the fun and games starts early and goes on all day, I’m afraid it’ll be rather late befor
e I look in here tomorrow evening.’

  ‘My dear man, don’t bother to do that. You’re going to have more than enough on your plate tomorrow, from the sound of it.’

  ‘It’ll be no bother,’ he replied politely. ‘Just rather late.’

  I glanced at him, reflectively. He was looking rigid for the first time since my admission. ‘What time does the party end?’

  ‘Nine. Early the following morning the whole camp packs up and moves off. I’ll be taking the children down that night. Their father is meeting us in London and there already. I’ll be coming straight back.’ He got off the locker seat he now used, as I was in the armchair. ‘How’s Archie MacDonald faring in London?’

  I was more than faintly startled. ‘He was a bit gloomy just now, but I think, on the whole, pretty well. His firm are involved in some massive takeover bid, but just who’s taking over what I don’t follow.’

  ‘There’ve been several very clear hints on the matter in the financial columns recently. You don’t read them?’

  ‘Never. Perhaps,’ I added, purely for something to say, ‘I should start?’

  ‘All knowledge is useful,’ he agreed tritely.

  We hadn’t talked small talk since my admission, either. It was my turn. ‘How’s Maury?’

  ‘Well, thank you.’

  ‘Still in Inverness?’

  ‘She returns tomorrow.’

  ‘For the Trials?’

  ‘Possibly. Along with half Gairlie.’

  ‘I hope it keeps fine for you.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll be off now. I hope you’ve a good night and good day tomorrow.’

  ‘I’m sure I will. Thanks for coming in.’

  ‘It’s been my pleasure.’ He sounded his old formal self, and he bowed his old formal bow. I did not then know my discharge date, but I knew from that moment that I was cured.

  Being cured, I felt restless. The small commotion in the corridor some minutes after he had gone was a welcome interruption. I opened my door. A few yards away Sister and Craig were speedily loading a trolley with blankets and clean linen from the ward linen-cupboard in the corridor. I noted the amount. ‘Three admissions? But your ward’s full, Sister.’