‘We’re all on the same side, Janie.’ Adam was fighting back his own tears suddenly. He slipped out of his chair and went to put his arms around her. ‘I’m glad he wasn’t horribly wounded and left a cripple. Robbie couldn’t have lived with that. I’ve seen such terrible things, Janie. You wouldn’t believe. I know it isn’t much comfort, but I think that if he had to be shot down, it’s what he would have wanted.’ He rested his head against Jane’s shoulder, very conscious suddenly of the warmth of her body near his, of the clean lemon scent of her skin.
It was some time later that she stirred. He had been asleep like that, cramped in her arms for nearly an hour and she had spent that hour looking down at him, gently stroking his hair. ‘Adam?’ she whispered. ‘I must go and check the children. Come with me.’ There were two children in the house aged four and five. They adored Jane and she them.
She took his hand and led him up the draughty, narrow spiral staircase from the kitchen to the third floor where the two children slept, snugly tucked beneath their blankets. They looked down at them for a minute in the light of the lamp in her hand and then quietly closed the door.
‘Come.’ She led him along the landing to her own room.
He hesitated as she turned on the light. ‘Janie – ’
‘Please, Adam. I can’t bear to be alone. Just hold me, that’s all.’
Outside the narrow tall windows the wind buffeted the glass and moaned in the high chimneys. The children, used to the wild noises, slept soundly. Lying fully dressed beside Jane on the narrow bed under the covers Adam dozed fitfully and then found himself wide awake, staring up at the ceiling in the dark. She had slipped away into the bathroom to undress and returned wearing a high-necked cotton nightdress which came down to her feet. It was virginal, white, trimmed with broderie anglaise, and he felt to his intense shame a surge of lust at the sight of it. Restraining himself firmly he stretched out next to her, the image of Robbie lying somewhere in a wooden coffin enough to keep his thoughts sober. It was a long time before he felt her body relax into sleep and he lay listening to her gentle, even breathing as the wind battered even harder at the window.
He had at last fallen asleep in the early hours of the morning, to dream of running through the woods with Robbie, playing with home-made bows and arrows when they were very small, when something woke him suddenly. He stared into the darkness listening hard. Jane was still asleep. There was no sound in the house save for the ticking of the old longcase clock on the landing. He held his breath, wondering if he should get up and go and look at the children. Or had the Kennedys perhaps changed their minds and decided to drive back instead of staying in Edinburgh for the night, and what he had heard was their car on the gravel outside?
Jane stirred and he heard her mutter something under her breath. He put his arm over her protectively, feeling the rise and fall of her breasts beneath the blankets.
A-dam?
It was the wind in the chimney again. There was no fire in the hearth. Small wisps of old ash were sighing across the stone. Somewhere a board creaked. Adam found his mouth had gone dry.
Where are you, A-dam?
He held his breath. It was a nightmare. There was no one there. The wind had awoken him.
Jane turned towards him, half awake, her body curved cosily into the old mattress. ‘What is it?’
‘Nothing. Go back to sleep.’ His hand was still resting over her breasts. Gently he caressed them through the blanket. She did not turn away. Her eyes closed, she snuggled closer to him. His lips touched her hair in the darkness. ‘Janie? Are you awake?’
She didn’t answer, but her hand had found his shoulder and then his shirtfront. Slowly she began to undo the buttons.
‘Janie – ’
‘Sssh.’
She was warm and relaxed and soft. A fragrant haven. Almost without realising it he had pulled off his trousers and climbed in beneath the blankets, drawing them up over their heads. He was very gentle with her, conscious that this was a very special love, a love to give comfort and companionship, a love to stem their grief. He caressed her thighs lightly beneath the long nightdress, and untied the ribbons to reach her breasts with his lips, intrigued and enchanted by her modesty and her combination of eagerness and reluctance. ‘Jane!’ He buried his face between her breasts. ‘My love!’
For a moment he thought she was going to refuse him as he drew her into his arms and began to insert his leg between hers. He was excited now – eager. Robbie was forgotten. The children along the landing were forgotten. His memory was of a lithe, supple body lying on the rocks in the sun, its legs provocatively apart, laughing teasing eyes, the bitter peaty water drying on soft pale skin.
‘Brid!’ He was terrified he had shouted it out loud as he drove into Jane’s soft flesh, and not until it was too late did he realise the significance of the resistance he felt there. He collapsed, panting, onto her breasts, kissing her silken skin, triumphant after the surge of his own passion, unaware for a moment that she was lying very still, tears running down her cheeks. ‘Jane? Janie? What’s wrong?’ He sat up and reached for the switch on the bedside light.
She grabbed at the blankets, pulling them up to her chin. ‘Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.’
‘But it is. Janie. Oh my God! It was your first time!’
She sniffed. ‘Everyone has to have a first time.’
‘But I thought you and Robbie – oh Christ!’ He swung his legs over the side of the bed and reached for his trousers.
He dressed with his back to her, then when he had lit a cigarette he came to sit on the edge of the bed beside her. ‘Janie, I am so sorry!’
‘Why?’ She smiled at him wanly. ‘It’s what I wanted.’
‘But – ’
‘Robbie and I waited, Adam. He didn’t want to. It was my idea. We waited so we could do it properly on our wedding night. If we had a wedding night. There isn’t going to be a wedding night. If we had made love I would have known what it was like. I would have known what he was like.’ She was sobbing uncontrollably. ‘I would have had that memory. So would he.’
Adam stared at her, appalled. He felt a mass of conflicting emotions: hurt that she could have used him so cynically; horror that her pain was so great she could act so out of character; disgust at himself that he could have so casually taken advantage of her unhappiness. And also something else; a knowledge that he had in some way betrayed both Liza, even if she had made it clear she no longer wanted him, and the girl he was trying to forget, the girl whose name he had cried out as he possessed this gentle, blonde woman whose trust he had violated. He stood up and went to throw his cigarette into the fireplace where it glowed red for a moment in the draught amongst the long-dead ashes. He was full of self-loathing.
‘Adam, don’t.’ Jane sat up. Her eyes were red, but she had grown calm. ‘Come back here.’ She patted the bed cover.
He hesitated for a moment, then he went back and sat down beside her. He reached for her cold hand and squeezed it gently.
‘We both loved him, Adam. Don’t let him come between us. What we did was for Robbie. And for ourselves. A sort of exorcism of grief.’ She smiled wanly. ‘Don’t be angry. No one need ever know what happened here tonight.’
He was looking at her with such intense concentration she found it disconcerting.
‘Adam, please. It doesn’t matter.’
‘It does matter. It matters to me. A lot.’
She reached out and touched his face. ‘Bless you.’
He jerked back out of her reach. ‘Don’t.’
‘Adam – ’
‘No. I’m sorry, Jane. This matters to me a great deal. I’m not in the habit of sleeping around, especially with the girlfriends of my dead friends!’ He walked back to the fireplace, trying to control the anger which had swept over him.
A-dam. Where are you?
The voice in his head was suddenly so loud he could not ignore it. He clapped his hands to his face. ‘No!’ His cry was so anguished
Jane scrambled out of bed and ran to him. ‘Adam, Adam. Please. What’s wrong?’
‘It’s nothing.’ He turned away from her. ‘A headache, that’s all.’ He took a grip on himself with an effort and turned back to her. ‘I’m sorry, Janie. I think we should both get some sleep. If you don’t mind I’ll go downstairs and sleep on the sofa. As soon as it’s light I’ll borrow Sam’s motorbike and get back to town. I’ve a ward round at eight.’
He didn’t wait for her to argue. Letting himself out of the room he ran down the spiral stairs and went into the cold living room.
Shivering, he sat on the edge of the broad stone window ledge and pulled the curtains and then the blackout aside, looking out into the dark garden. Somewhere in the distance he heard an owl call as it hunted along the hedge. He could not bring himself to think about Jane at all, his guilt was too profound. Only one worry circled now round and round inside his brain. Brid had found him, out here in the Pentland Hills, because still there in the pocket of his coat was the pendant that Liza had returned to him. He stifled his sudden urge to throw the thing out of the window into the garden. It would bring Brid here, to Jane, and that he could not allow. He suddenly needed to talk to Liza badly, but he wasn’t sure if he would be able to talk to Liza again.
‘It has its face to the wall in case you were wondering!’ Liza grinned at Adam as he walked into her studio a few days later and stared awkwardly round. ‘I won’t inflict my work on you if it causes such offence.’
Adam shook his head. ‘It never crossed my mind. In fact I’m flattered you painted me. When you’re very famous that will be worth millions of pounds and my face will hang in some rich man’s collection, and they’ll all say, that’s the famous Dr Craig who was such an inspiration to the artist.’
She laughed and caught his arm. ‘I’m glad we’re beginning to see sense at last. So. How are things?’
He hesitated uncomfortably. ‘You’ve heard about Robbie?’
She nodded. ‘I’m so sorry.’
He sighed. ‘It’s such a waste. It’s all such a waste.’ There was a moment’s silence. Then he remembered why he had come. ‘Liza, I’ve heard Brid.’
She stood very still, staring at him. ‘Was it because I gave you the pendant?’
He nodded. ‘It was in my pocket. I forgot about it – ’
‘You must do what Mrs Gardiner said, Adam. Protect yourself against her. Visualise yourself surrounded by light. Make the sign of the cross. Carry a crystal to help with the protection. Be strong. Don’t let her sense you are afraid. Don’t let her into your head. And get rid of the pendant!’
‘I have.’ Ashamed and angry at his own superstition, he had driven out to Queensferry a few mornings earlier. He had stood for a while on the quay, watching the ferry load the queue of waiting cars and cast off to chug out into the Forth. Then he had pulled the silver charm from his pocket. With a quick glance around to make sure he was unobserved he had flung it as far as he could out into the grey frothing water. For a moment he had wondered if it would refuse to sink, if he would hear a scream of protest inside his head, if Brid would somehow materialise beside him, but nothing happened. The waves slapped as steadily as before against the green weed-encrusted stones of the quay and the pendant was gone forever.
With a shiver he glanced round at the door behind him as though half expecting it to fly open and reveal Brid standing there. Liza shook her head. ‘I’m glad you got rid of it. But you have to go on being careful. I thought you understood. She has the power to enter people’s minds, Adam. She invades their heads. Mrs Gardiner explained all that, or weren’t you listening?’ She laughed suddenly, the sound bubbling up inside her as she saw Adam’s face. ‘Oh dear, the Presbyterian boy rebels again. Adam, my sweet love, don’t you see? This girl, this Brid of yours is – was – a psychic, a witch, if you like. She had powers. You can’t guard yourself against them unless you know how. They might intrude on you anywhere, at any time.’ She paused, suddenly struck by the expression on his face. ‘Oh dear. I see she has.’ She could not for a moment hide the anguish in her eyes. She bit her lip.
‘Liza – ’
‘No. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that you know what to do. That you know how to save yourself from her. She was – is – an adept, Adam. You said she had gone to some kind of college which taught her these things?’
‘I don’t know what she learned there. Some of it was reciting poetry and stuff …’
‘It was magic.’
‘Liza! That’s nonsense.’
‘It’s not nonsense! How can you be so blind! Use your head.’
‘I am using my head. I’m training to be a doctor. I’m a scientist, Liza, and you tell me this girl studied magic. You’ll tell me she can fly next.’
‘So why did you come to tell me that you had heard her voice?’
‘Because,’ he hesitated. ‘Because I need your help. I don’t think Brid’s dead. I was thinking about it. Why should we believe that woman? She’s a backstreet medium. No one would take her seriously.’
Liza flushed with anger. ‘I took her seriously!’
He shrugged. ‘You’re being too credulous, Liza,’ he went on swiftly. ‘I think Brid is using telepathy or something like that.’
‘Telepathy! And that’s not magic?’
‘No, it isn’t.’
Liza smiled. ‘But doctors don’t recognise that either, do they? All right. So, do you know how to protect yourself against telepathy?’
He shook his head.
‘Do you want me to show you?’
He hesitated. ‘I don’t want to get involved in table turning and stuff like that, Liza.’
She tightened her lips. ‘All right. We’ll leave it.’ She paused. ‘So, what were you doing that allowed her to invade your privacy so badly?’
‘Liza – ’
‘You keep saying that. It doesn’t matter, you know. It’s not as though you and I are together any more. But I thought we were still friends. It’s a pity Brid doesn’t realise that it’s not me she has to be jealous of.’ She turned away from him and went to stand by the window. It was something she often did when he was there, he realised suddenly.
‘Liza, don’t. Listen, I don’t have to be back until two. Come out and have some lunch.’
‘I don’t think so, Adam.’ There was a long pause. ‘Adam, I think you should know I’m seeing someone else. Phil Stevenson.’ It had happened so gradually she had hardly noticed at first the developing relationship. ‘I thought you’d probably guessed …’
‘Will you marry me?’ Adam was still holding the bunch of red roses he had brought with him. They were awkwardly clutched in his arms as he sat beside Jane on the window seat. Sam and Elsie had made themselves absent with the children, all gardening strenuously out of sight around the corner of the tower.
Jane stared at him fondly. She laughed. ‘Adam, you don’t have to ask me.’
‘I do.’ He stared down at the roses as though he had never seen them before and then pushed them at her. It had been his first thought when he had heard of Liza’s engagement to Philip. Ask Jane. Marry Jane. Show Liza you don’t care.
‘Here, take these. I’ve something else for you too.’ He groped in his pocket for the small box containing the ring over which he had agonised for so long in George Street. It was a tiny star of rubies on a narrow, gold band. ‘I hope it fits.’
She stared down at it, blinking back her tears. ‘Adam – ’
‘I love you, Jane. Please. Marry me. I know I’m not qualified yet, but it won’t be long.’ He had forgotten his earlier protests that marriage would be impossible for him. Suddenly they didn’t seem important any more. ‘I won’t be earning much, I know, but I’m ambitious and I work hard.’ He smiled self-deprecatingly. ‘I’ve hopes that I’ll do well. I think I can convince your father that I can look after you. Perhaps if we got married after I graduate – ’
‘Yes.’
‘Then we could look for a small flat
if I do my residency at the Royal Infirmary – ’
‘I said yes.’
He stopped in mid-sentence. ‘What?’
‘I said yes, Adam. Yes. I would love to marry you.’
‘You would?’
She laughed with delight. ‘In a minute I shall think you don’t mean it.’
‘Oh, I mean it.’ He scrabbled in the little velvet-lined box and extricated the ring. To his relief it fitted. ‘Oh Janie, I’m so honoured.’ He leaned forward and kissed her gently on the lips.
‘Not honoured. Pleased. Happy,’ she corrected gently. Firmly she pushed away the small flicker of doubt which was nudging at the corner of her mind.
It was strange how they didn’t notice her. Brid walked swiftly, her head down, keeping to the edge of the corridors, avoiding people’s eyes. The hospital smelled strange. There was death and fear and over it all a strong smell she couldn’t identify. There were doctors here; healers. So Adam must be somewhere here too. But where? The passages were so long. The sounds were so strange; the clank of metal, the rolling of little wheels over the flag-stones, the starched rustle of the women who took care of people. They were kind enough. They had looked after her, but even so it didn’t seem to be the sort of place people would go to get better. There were no dark places to consult the gods. There were no rooms for the distillation of herbs. There was no music. There was no peace.
She saw two young men approaching and flattened herself against the wall. Their white coats flew open as they walked, and they both had the long strange tube with metal pieces hung around their necks. Her doctor had taken his off and pressed a part of it to her chest and stuck it in his ears. It was some kind of sign of office, she supposed. They passed her without noticing her, engrossed in their conversation. One of them, had she but known it, was Andrew Thomson.
Behind her, in the ward, a doctor was standing looking down at her empty bed in confusion. ‘When did you realise she had gone?’
On the Edge of Darkness Page 16