by Anne Mather
Julie turned away. 'No. No, you get them. I'll wait in the living-room.'
'All right.'
He moved his shoulders indifferently and she went into the living-room feeling unaccountably chastened.
Rob accompanied them across to the mainland so that he could fetch the outboard motor boat back to the island for his own use. He waited until Jonas had reversed the powerful sports car out of the garage and then closed the doors and came to shake hands with both of them.
'Come back soon, Mrs. Hunter,' he said warmly. 'It's been nice having another woman about the place again.'
'Thank you.' Julie glanced awkwardly at Jonas as she got into the car. 'I - er - you've been very kind.'
Jonas put the car into gear and as they drove away Rob raised his hand. Unaccountably, Julie felt a lump come into her throat. The Macphersons were such nice people, such honest people; she hated deceiving them like this.
They drove for some distance before Julie could bring herself to say: 'Would you like me to take over for a while later on? To give your hand a rest?'
Jonas shook his head. 'That won't be necessary. There's no pain.'
Judging by the lines beside his mouth, Julie was sure there must be, but she could hardly argue with him about something like that. She glanced sideways at him. Travelling along like this it was all too easy to remember other occasions when they had driven together. Once Jonas had had an assignment in Vienna and they had taken the car to the continent and driven south through Belgium and Germany to Austria, staying at small hotels and pensions, almost making a second honeymoon of the trip. Her nerves jarred. They had been so happy. How could he have destroyed that happiness for the sake of one night?
She stared blindly out of the car windows. Like Mrs. Macpherson had said it was a clear morning. The mountains looked stark and rugged, paling towards the peaks where the watery sun glinted on layers of snow. Only the pine trees were deeply green, standing like sentinels beside the wide stretches of brackish water.
They stopped for lunch soon after twelve. Julie was relieved, although she said nothing. For the past hour she had been feeling distinctly queasy, and the taste of the strong tea Mrs. Macpherson had provided was still in the back of her throat. They stopped at a hotel just outside of Fort William and Julie, reflecting how much further they still had to go, had to force down a feeling of panic.
The meal they were offered was plain but good, although all Julie could manage was some vegetable soup and a little of the steak. She refused a dessert and watching Jonas eat a chocolate pudding made her feel quite sick. Throughout the meal, Jonas consulted a road map on the table beside him, obviously intent on finding the quickest route, and Julie was left to her own devices. Then it was out to the car again and on to the next leg of their journey.
They crossed the ferry at Ballachulish and turned inland, leaving the sea lochs behind. They drove down through Tyndrum and Crianlarich, through beautiful mountainous country that Julie was scarcely aware of, and reached the shores of Loch Lomond. The road that ran beside the loch twisted and turned and Julie could feel the sickness she had thought she was managing to control rising in her throat again.
'Oh, Jonas,' she moaned desperately, 'could you stop the car for a minute?'
Jonas stood on his brakes, bringing the car to a halt on a grassy verge between pine trees. Julie didn't wait to explain. She unfastened her seat belt, thrust open the door and stumbled out. She was hardly aware that Jonas had come to stand beside her until he said: 'How do you feel now?'
She wiped her mouth with a tissue and dabbed at her watering eyes. 'I'm - I'm all right. You don't have to tell me. I know I should have had some breakfast.'
'Get in the car,' he said roughly. 'I'm not completely without sensibilities, you know.'
Julie got back in reluctantly, but at least the sickly feeling had receded even if it hadn't left her altogether. Jonas leant across and fastened her harness and then looked into her eyes intently.
'What kind of a brute do you think I am?' he demanded.
Julie felt near to tears. 'I - I don't think you're a - a brute at all.'
Jonas studied her a moment longer and then he swung round in his seat and fastened his own safety belt. 'Okay,' he said. 'We'll take it a little less recklessly, right?'
Julie nodded and settled back, ridiculously warmed by his evident concern.
Exhaustion both from the sickness and her sleepless night eventually took its toll of her and she fell asleep. When she opened her eyes again, her neck was stiff and it was dark outside the car. Only their headlamps, and the headlamps of cars they were passing, illuminated the road.
Blinking, she sat up and said: 'Where are.we?'
Jonas glanced sideways at her. 'We're on the A66. Ap- preaching Scotch Corner.'
'Scotch Corner?' Julie stared stupidly at the clock on the dash. 'But that's in north Yorkshire, isn't it? I didn't know we went anywhere near there. I thought we came down through Carlisle and Kendal.'
'We would - if we were heading straight for London,' he agreed briefly.
'But where are we going?' Julie was too shocked to register the time at that moment.
'To Howard's Green. It's only about another fifteen miles.'
'Howard's - Green!' Julie licked her lips. 'But - but that's your mother's home.'
'I am aware of that.' He was dry.
Julie stared at his profile. 'I can't go there!'
'Why not?'
'You know why not. Jonas, I can't. You know how upset she was when - when we split up.'
'I know. But she's got used to the idea now.'
'Even so—' Julie stared through the darkened windows. Then she turned her attention to the clock again. 'It's almost half past seven. We can't simply impose ourselves on your mother!'
'Why not? You forget, it's my home.'
Julie shook her head. 'But why are we going there?'
'Would you believe - I'm tired?'
'Oh, Jonas!' Concerned with her own selfish anxieties, she had forgotten all about his hand. She sighed. 'Couldn't I take over?'
.'No. I know this road. I can make it.'
His voice sounded strained and she again found herself in a defensive position. All the same, they could have stayed at a hotel. It would certainly have been easier for her. But to voice such a suggestion now was impossible.
Particularly when she considered how far he had driven while she slept.
They left the main road a couple of miles further on and followed a quieter, winding road through several villages before reaching Howard's Burn. The Hunter house, Howard's Green, stood on the outskirts of the village, a rambling grey stone building set among trees with perhaps an acre of land attached to it where Mrs. Hunter grew roses and kept a few chickens. Tall elms shielded the front of the house from the road and as Jonas turned between the stone gateposts Julie saw that the gates stood wide as usual. There were lights in the downstairs windows and as the curtains were seldom drawn she saw Jonas's mother come to peer out as the headlights swept the forecourt and Jonas brought the powerful vehicle to a halt at the foot of the steps leading up to the front door.
Then he slumped, resting his forehead on the steering wheel, his shoulders hunched in an attitude of exhaustion. Julie turned to him anxiously, but before she could touch him or ask him what was wrong light streamed down on them and Mrs. Hunter came down the steps from the open door. She pulled open Jonas's door and was saying: 'Jonas, what a surprise—' when she saw him slumped across the wheel. 'Oh, my God! Jonas, what's happened?'
Jonas raised his head and now Julie could see the grim lines of fatigue beside his mouth and eyes. 'I'm all right, Mother,' he averred, thrusting his legs out of the car and getting out to give her a hug. 'Tired, that's all. It's good to see you. How are you?'
Mrs. Hunter looked up at him rather worriedly and then shook her head. 'Are you sure you're all right, Jonas?' Then at his impatient nod, she added: 'I'm fine - fine.' She squeezed his forearms. 'Oh, it is good
to see you, Jonas. It's been almost three months.'
She was a small woman, thin and wiry, her greying brown hair secured in a knot on top of her head. She had been quite a beauty in her youth, but life in terms of her estrangement from her family and more recently her husband's death had etched a tracery of lines across her face. But she was still a handsome woman for her age and her slender figure enabled her to look elegant in the most casual of clothes. But none of her sons had taken after her. They were all tall like Professor Hunter had been, and as Jonas was the eldest and her firstborn, he was the one she truly favoured even though she would have been the last to admit it.
Now her grey eyes flickered towards the car and Julie could feel herself shrinking. She had realized that Mrs. Hunter had noticed someone else in the car with Jonas, but as yet she did not know her identity.
Jonas, impatient to get introductions over with, said: 'Come on out, Julie. Mother, Julie's with me. We'd like to stay overnight if you've no objections.'
Mrs. Hunter's face mirrored her amazement as Julie got reluctantly out the car and came round to the others. 'Julie!' she exclaimed,.and then looked incredulously at her son. 'You don't mean—'
'I don't mean anything,' said Jonas heavily, walking to the boot of the car and unlocking it and taking out their suitcases. 'Could we go inside? It's cold out here.'
He went ahead up the steps, but Mrs. Hunter continued to stare at her daughter-in-law. 'Julie,' she said again, shaking her head. 'This really is a surprise.'
Julie tortured the strap of her handbag, not knowing whether to shake hands with her mother-in-law or kiss her or what. 'I - I'm sorry about this, Mrs. Hunter,' she
began awkwardly. 'But we've been driving since early this morning - down from Scotland - and Jonas was exhausted - he cut his hand a couple of days ago, you see—'
'Jonas cut his hand? Nothing serious, I hope.' 'I - I don't think so. It was on a - on a glass. He's got two stitches in his palm - and he was so tired - and he f said you probably wouldn't mind—'
She was stumbling on, hot and embarrassed, unable to think of any good reason why they should be here. But Mrs. Hunter merely patted her hand and began to climb the steps and Julie had to accompany her.
'Bless you, child, I don't mind,' she said reassuringly. 'I'm always glad of the company. Since the boys got married or moved away, this house often seems empty. But I don't understand. You've been up in Scotland, you say? Staying with Jonas?'
Julie's cheeks burned. 'In - in a manner of speaking, yes.'
Mrs. Hunter shrugged, obviously perplexed, but they had reached the entrance hall and as she closed the door behind them Jonas came out of the room to their left. The cases were standing at the foot of the stairs and rather than look at them Julie looked rather desperately round the attractive hallway. Cream paper looked good against dark wood, and the apple green carpet spread into every corner and up the stairs.
Apparently deciding that explanations could wait until later, Mrs. Hunter moved towards him saying: 'Have you had anything to eat? You look positively worn out!'
'No.' Jonas shook his head. He had shed his black leather driving coat and in the navy suede suit and cream shirt he looked pale and heavy-eyed, but no less attractive, thought Julie bitterly. 'Er - Julie was sick earlier. I don't think she should have anything heavy.'
'I'm all right.' Julie had to say something. She unfastened the jacket of her suit. 'Do you think I could have a wash? I feel filthy.'
'Of course, of course.' Mrs. Hunter switched on the upstairs lights. 'You know where the bathroom is. I'll come up in a minute and make up the bed - beds.' She pressed her lips together. 'You can come into the kitchen with me, Jonas, and tell me what you've been doing.'
Guessing that Jonas would explain the situation to his mother, Julie went thankfully up the stairs. The bathroom was large and old-fashioned, but the plumbing was not. There was plenty of hot water and warm towels and it was marvellous to wash away the grime of the journey and comb out her hair. The sleep she had had, had refreshed her, and she found the thought of food was not as distasteful as it had been several hours ago. It was strange being in this house again, though. She and Jonas had stayed here lots of times before. She had always got along well with his mother, and his father too, when he was alive. His brothers, three of them, and all younger than Jonas, had usually been away at college, and later two of them had married and the third had become an archaeologist and spent most of his time on some dig or other. Mrs. Hunter had coped very well after her husband died. She was an independent sort of person, not given to self-pity, and she had always looked after this house herself except for having a woman come in a couple of times a week to tackle the rough work.
Julie secured her hair in the chignon again, checked that her suit did not have too many creases after the long journey, and then went back downstairs. There was the unmistakable smell of meat and vegetables in the hall and she hesitated uncertainly. In the old days she would have bounced into the kitchen and demanded to know what it was, but things were different now. Instead, she went into the lounge and seated herself in a comfortable chintz- covered armchair by the fire. Although there was a very adequate heating system installed, Mrs. Hunter had always insisted on keeping one coal fire and this one was burning merrily. Mrs. Hunter's knitting was lying untidily on the settee, and magazines spilled out of the rack beside the hearth. Firelight winked on the polished wood of a baby grand piano in one corner, while the walls were panelled and covered with prints. Long faded velvet curtains edged the tall windows, falling to the now worn beauty of an Indian carpet. It was a comfortable, lived-in sort of room, and Julie had always thought that when she had children of her own and brought them here to see their grandmother she would not have to worry too much if sticky fingers explored in forbidden places. Her fingers curled. Well, there was no likelihood of that now. But the remembrance of those girlish thoughts could still arouse pain ... and it shouldn't.
She was staring into the flames when Jonas came into the room. He had shed his jacket now and taken off his tie, the unfastened neck of his shirt revealing the slender silver chain that supported the medallion.
Julie looked up nervously. 'I - er - how do you feel?'
Jonas shrugged, flexing his shoulder muscles. 'I'm tired, that's all. Nothing to worry about. I'll take a bath later. That should relax me.'
'What about your hand?'
Jonas exhibited the elastic plaster. 'It feels stiff, that's all. Natural enough in the circumstances.'
Julie nodded and bent her head. 'Have - have you - er - told your mother—?'
'About us? Of course.' Jonas went to help himself to a drink from a tray of bottles and glasses on a nearby table.
'Do you want something? Sherry, perhaps?'
'No, thanks.' Julie sighed. 'What did she say?'
Jonas poured himself some Scotch. 'Nothing much. What did you expect her to say?'
'She doesn't - well, object to me being here?'
Jonas turned, raising the glass to his lips. 'Could you imagine it?'
'No, but you are her son, and I - well, you know what I mean.'
'I think so. Nevertheless, my mother is not like yours.' He swallowed most of his Scotch at a gulp.
'What's that supposed to mean?'
'Could you imagine your mother welcoming me back into the fold?'
'No - but that's different.'
'How is it? Because you were the innocent party? Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, but my mother believes me. So far as she's concerned, you were wrong.'
Julie hunched her shoulders. 'Oh, well, I don't suppose it matters.'
'No.' Jonas turned back to pour another drink. 'No, nothing matters any more, does it?'
Julie had no time to reply to this cryptic statement before Mrs. Hunter appeared in the doorway. 'It's ready,' she announced with a smile. 'I thought we could eat in the kitchen, if you don't mind. It's warmer in there. I've not been using the dining-room much myself.'
The
y sat in the kitchen, round the square scrubbed table where Julie had often watched her mother-in-law making bread. There was new bread this evening, and bowls of thick beefy broth, and breakfast cups of coffee. Julie found she was hungry, in spite of everything, and she enjoyed the simple meal better than she would some formal dinner at a hotel. She supposed she ought to feel
grateful to Jonas for bringing her here. After all, he must have guessed that after being sick she would not want too many eyes upon her, but as usual she had argued with him over it.
During the meal, Mrs. Hunter relieved the tension by asking Jonas about his new book and when the first one was going to begin filming. They were questions Julie had asked, but she found his replies as interesting as ever. Or perhaps it was that he had such an attractive speaking voice that anything he said was interesting to her ears.
When the meal was over, Julie offered to wash up, but Mrs. Hunter wouldn't hear of it. 'I can manage these few things,' she insisted. 'Come along. I'll show you where you're going to sleep. Then when you're ready you can go to bed.'
The room Julie was given had been Paul's, the youngest son. There were still pictures of revolutionary heroes on the walls and a collection of photographs of sporting teams from college days. Mrs. Hunter left her to open her suitcase and take out her night things and Julie guessed she was hoping she would go to bed soon so that she might have some time alone with her son. Deciding that this was the least she could do in the circumstances, Julie went downstairs again only long enough to say good night and saw the look of relief on Mrs. Hunter's face. Jonas's expression was less easy to read, but he inclined his head politely and she went back upstairs again feeling cut off from them and unloved.
Because she had slept that afternoon in the car she was not particularly tired, so she examined the contents of the bookcase. As well as Paul's books there was a book of Rupert Brooke's poems which belonged to her mother-in- law and the words on the flyleaf brought a lump to her throat. It read: To my favourite confidante from your
son, Jonas.
She found it hard to read after that and putting the book aside lay back on her pillows. Neither Jonas nor his mother had come to bed yet and knowing how tired Jonas was she hoped his mother would not keep him up much longer. About half an hour later she was relieved to hear someone mounting the stairs, and she heard water running in the bathroom. She remembered that Jonas had said he was going to have a bath before going to bed and she wriggled lower under the covers.
