Moreton's Kingdom

by Jean S. MacLeod

  He opened the gate.

  ‘I’ve had all the noisy chatter I need for one evening,’ he said.

  ‘But the friend you hoped to meet?’ Katherine persisted. ‘She might expect you to be there.’

  ‘I know where she lives,’ he said.

  So it had been a woman he had been waiting for! She walked ahead of him across the carpeted entrance hall.

  ‘I really can make my own way home,’ she said.

  He opened the stout main door without answering her.

  ‘It’s still raining,’ he pointed out.

  His car was parked farther down the block, a grey Rover splendidly British in its solidarity, like its enigmatic owner.

  ‘How far?’ he asked.

  ‘Only a little way on the far side of the Park.’

  It was no great distance, as she had promised, and they reached her destination within a quarter of an hour despite the thickening flow of traffic. It was still raining as Charles drew up at the kerb.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said. ‘I’m very grateful—Charles.’

  He smiled at her tentative use of his Christian name.

  ‘Charles Moreton,’ he replied as she had expected him to do.

  ‘I’m Katherine Rivers,’ she said. ‘Generally known as Kate!’

  ‘Are you an obliging friend, Kate?’ he asked unexpectedly. ‘Someone who would do a good turn without thinking twice about it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Her reply to the challenging question was slightly doubtful. ‘I suppose I would consider it unless it was really urgent.’

  ‘Ah,’ he said, but that was all.

  He helped her out of the car, climbed the three stone steps to her front door and held out his hand for her key.

  ‘I’d ask you in,’ Katherine said hastily, ‘but I’m rather tired.’

  ‘And you’re off early in the morning,’ he supplied for her. ‘All right, Kate, I can take a hint when it’s so obvious. We’ll meet again, would you say?’

  ‘I—yes, that would be nice.’ She had given way to impulse because she did not want to let him go for some perverse reason which she would not admit even to herself. ‘Unless you forget,’ she added, throwing down her own challenge.

  He took her by the shoulders, the grey eyes searching hers.

  ‘I won’t forget,’ he said grimly. ‘Goodnight, Kate!’ He pressed his lips firmly on hers.

  The kiss was short and almost defiant, and it seared through her like a flame. She had been kissed before, but never quite like this, for the hard pressure of his lips seemed to have drained away all her vitality, leaving her limply at this man’s mercy. Why had he done it? What reason had he to make her feel at a loss?

  When she reached her own flat she went straight to the window which overlooked the tree-lined avenue without switching on the lights. The grey car was still parked at the kerb, its owner standing beside it surveying his surroundings with a contemplative air. He turned away almost immediately, however, so there was really no reason why her heart should suddenly be thumping in her breast at the memory of a careless goodnight kiss.

  Best to forget about Charles Moreton, she decided, since she was never likely to meet him again.

  In the morning she was awakened by the sun filtering through the unlined curtains of her room to fill it with a mellow, diffused light as she swung her feet to the floor. The panic thought that she had overslept took her swiftly to her dressing-table, but it was only five o’clock when she consulted her watch. Quickly she drew back the curtains, looking over the tree tops of the tiny square to a sky washed blue and shining by the rain of the night before. The plane trees in brave new bud stood out against it, palely green in the early light, and her heart rose in anticipation of a perfect day. Always, as she prepared for a journey, she had experienced a quick surge of excitement, and this day was no different except for the fact that she had undertaken a strange assignment on the spur of the moment the night before.

  In the penetrating light of a new day it seemed absurd that she had accepted full responsibility for a small boy whom she had never met because his mother believed that he was about to be kidnapped by the man she had recently divorced.

  As she cooked a hasty breakfast and packed the few remaining articles of clothing she would need for her holiday she wondered about Coralie Edgar and her child, anticipating a tearful scene when they came to part, but perhaps they wouldn’t come at all. Coralie might change her mind when she thought carefully about all that parting could entail. She had expressed her love for Sandy in no uncertain terms, but perhaps anxiety for his safety would bring her eventually to the flat.

  The doorbell rang at six o’clock. Katherine was tidying up in the kitchen, making sure that she had emptied the refrigerator and leaving nothing to go stale during the three weeks or so that she intended to be away, and she opened the door with a milk bottle in her hand.

  Coralie was standing outside with a small boy by the hand and she found herself looking at Sandy with swift compassion because he appeared to be completely bewildered. His mother had called him docile, presenting a picture of a child who would do exactly as he was told, causing her no trouble at all, but she had not been prepared for the lost look in Sandy’s wide blue eyes. He seemed completely at a loss as he clung to Coralie’s hand, gloved fingers tightening compulsively about it as he contemplated Katherine for the first time.

  In a tone that Katherine disliked immediately, Coralie said:

  ‘Here we are, darling! This is the kind lady who’s going to take you in her car to stay with Aunt Hattie for a while. You know how much you love Aunt Hattie,’ she prompted when Sandy made no immediate reply, ‘and you’ll see the dogs again and the chickens. That’ll be nice, won’t it?’ Eyes clearer and even more blue than her own were lifted to her face, searching eyes full of a deep wistfulness which immediately touched Katherine’s heart.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ she asked her early-morning visitor beneath her breath as Coralie rushed her son across the threshold.

  ‘Quite sure.’ There was complete determination and a noticeable harshness in Coralie’s tone. ‘You’re not thinking of backing out, are you, after promising?’

  ‘I wouldn’t do that.’ Katherine was still looking at the child. ‘It was just that I wondered how he would feel being handed over to a complete stranger.’

  ‘He’s not old enough to “feel” anything in the way you mean,’ Coralie declared, ‘and he’s used to being in different places most of the time. He’s been divided neatly down the centre between my husband and me. It’s the sort of situation that makes for docility, don’t you think?’

  Katherine took Sandy by the hand, leading him to the window to look down at the trees where a light wind was stirring their branches.

  ‘When you see the milk-float coming we’ll put all the bottles out for the milkman,’ she suggested. ‘I have to tell him I won’t need any more milk.’

  Sandy stood dutifully by the window while his mother followed Katherine into the kitchen.

  ‘He knows you’re going to take him,’ she said briskly, ‘so you needn’t pamper him. Believe me, it’s safer this way because his father is determined to have him all the time. Our marriage couldn’t have lasted. I should have expected it to founder, sooner or later, but Sandy has complicated matters. My ex-husband wants him because he’s the heir to a great deal of money. His uncle settled a considerable sum on him when he was one year old and my ex is determined to have full control of it.’

  ‘But surely you were given custody,’ Katherine protested.

  The blue eyes widened.

  ‘Of course,’ said Coralie. ‘What else?’

  ‘Then you’re safe enough under the law.’

  ‘You don’t know my ex-husband.’ Coralie turned away. ‘He’s a law unto himself, and once Sandy is in Scotland he could make it difficult for me. Scots law is different in some respects.’

  She was almost in tears, and Katherine felt immediately sorry for her. />
  ‘This is really serious,’ she said. ‘Why don’t you go to the police?’

  Coralie hesitated, but only for a second.

  ‘I couldn’t face another court case,’ she said. ‘You’ve no idea how soul-destroying it can be to have your private life dragged in front of a judge who takes everything you say with a pinch of salt.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘I have to go,’ she decided. ‘I have a business appointment at nine o’clock. I’m a working girl again. You’ve no idea how good that feels after all I’ve been through.’

  ‘I’ll have to have your sister’s address,’ Katherine reminded her. ‘I dare say you’ve spoken to her.’

  ‘She isn’t on the phone, but I’ve scribbled her address down somewhere.’ Coralie searched in her handbag. ‘You won’t have any difficulty finding the cottage. You turn off the M6 and go by Ambleside and Keswick. That way you can avoid Penrith when you go north again. It’s lovely countryside if you haven’t been there before.’

  She produced a slip of paper with an address written on it and a sketchy diagram of the locality. Skiddaw she had marked with a little pyramid and there was another for the Saddleback, but apart from that the road seemed to wind vaguely northwards and eastwards in the general direction of Carlisle.

  ‘I’ll find it.’ Katherine felt that she would be safer with her ordinary road-map. ‘Are you quite sure you want me to do this, Coralie?’ she asked on a final impulse. ‘We don’t really know each other very well.’

  ‘That’s beside the point. We were at school together and that’s assurance enough as far as I’m concerned.’ The older girl’s expression sharpened a little. ‘You couldn’t possibly back out on me now,’ she pleaded. ‘Not after promising.’

  It would only be one day, Katherine thought again, and a delightful small boy would be a good companion on the road.

  Coralie parted with her son with surprisingly little sentiment.

  ‘You’ll do everything Katie tells you, won’t you, darling?’ She squeezed his hand. ‘Then you’ll be with Aunt Hattie for a while. You’ll like that, won’t you?’ She pressed a swift kiss against his cold little cheek. ‘Be a good boy!’

  There had been no promise that she would collect him in the very near future, nothing for a bewildered child to hang on to when she had gone. I wish I hadn’t promised to help, Katherine thought. It’s all so cold and terribly unfeeling.

  After Coralie had gone she finished her packing while Sandy stood by the window in silence, watching for the milk-float, and when it finally came round the corner he helped her to carry the empty milk bottles to the foot of the stairs, standing in the doorway while she paid the man. Already the morning traffic had become a thin trickle and it was time they had made a start if they were to be through London before the incoming tide of vehicles swamped them altogether.

  Coralie had deposited a tartan holdall just inside the flat door, and Sandy looked somehow pathetic as he lugged it on to the landing.

  ‘Don’t forget your anorak,’ Katherine reminded him briskly to hide her concern.

  She had parked her car on the far side of the road and she bundled her small companion in after she had checked that there was a rug if he wanted to sleep. Did little boys of three and a bit need an afternoon rest? She looked at the silent child by her side as she drove off, supposing that nature would supply an adequate answer to her ignorance.

  Sandy had fallen asleep before they had reached Birmingham, propped up comfortably with his seat belt and the travelling-rug. Their conversation had consisted chiefly of quick observations about passing vehicles and the colour of cars, which he seemed to recognise, the feet that he was able to count up to twenty surprising her a little.

  While he slept, Katherine had more time to think of the remainder of their journey, realising with a vague feeling of regret that it was already half over. She would miss Sandy when she finally deposited him at Beck Cottage where his aunt would be waiting for him. Evidently he knew Hattie Edgar very well because he had smiled each time her name was mentioned, a fact which Katherine accepted as a form of reassurance, although why she should need convincing that everything would turn out right for Sandy she didn’t know.

  Uneasily she looked down at the fair head cradled in her ancient travelling-rug. He seemed so young and vulnerable lying there with a half-smile curving his lips as if his unconscious thoughts were completely happy ones, but it seemed useless to tear her own heart apart with needless pitying. When they reached Beck Cottage her responsibility for this enchanting scrap of humanity would be over. An odd regret continued to tug at her heart, but she shrugged it aside deliberately in order to concentrate on her driving.

  When Sandy opened his eyes again she was ready to smile at him.

  ‘Are you very hungry?’ she asked. ‘I am, so we’ll stop at the very next cafe for something to eat.’

  ‘Chips?’ he asked expectantly.

  ‘If you like them we’ll have chips.’

  ‘An’ lemonade?’

  ‘Milk would be nicer. You could have lemonade later on.’

  He nodded, not showing any disappointment at her verdict.

  ‘Or we might even be able to get some orange juice,’ she suggested.

  ‘Yes.’

  He was too docile, Katherine thought with sudden irritation, too ready to agree to any suggestion made to him by an adult world which had little room for a small boy.

  I shouldn’t think these things, she told herself immediately. After all, Sandy is well provided for, with an uncle who’s cared enough about him to leave him a small fortune, protecting his future in a material sense, at least.

  ‘Can you watch out for a notice that has spoons and knives and forks on it?’ she asked to amuse him. ‘There should be one quite soon and that’s where we’ll stop.’

  Refreshed by his sleep, Sandy entered into the spirit of the game she had suggested, eyes brightly excited as he pointed to the sign.

  ‘There!’ he said. ‘I’m hungry for chips.’

  He ate heartily, consuming his helping of fish and chips in record time while a smiling waitress stood by to take his further order.

  ‘Do they all eat like this?’ Katherine laughed. ‘Surely that wasn’t just a child’s portion?’

  ‘What we lose on the swings we gain on the roundabouts!’ the girl laughed. ‘Some kids just peck at their food, but I like to see them with a healthy appetite. There’s apple pie and cream to follow, or strawberry ice,’ she added expectantly.

  Katherine chose the apple pie, but Sandy had seen a child at an adjacent table with a large helping of strawberry ice-cream in a glass, so there was no question about his choice. He ate it in silence, licking the spoon reflectively while Katherine drank her coffee. Sandy was opening out.

  When they rejoined the trunk road Katherine suggested another game.

  ‘We’ll watch all the cars coming towards us and count the blue ones,’ she said. ‘Only blue ones, starting from now!’

  Once the decision had been made it was surprising how many blue cars there were on the road going the opposite way. Sandy reached his counting limit of twenty in under an hour and they had to start all over again, but the game had proved successful and Katherine kept it up with a show of enthusiasm which matched the sparkle in Sandy’s eyes.

  Once or twice, as she glanced through her driving mirror, she saw a blue car catching up with them, but that wasn’t part of the game. All the cars had to be going the other way.

  Perhaps it was then that she became aware of a second car keeping pace with them, a grey car which could have passed her easily enough, she thought absently.

  Before they reached Kendal they stopped for tea. Sandy had slept on the seat beside her for the second time when the car-spotting game had become too repetitive and she felt that he must be ready for something more to eat. The grey car followed them off the highway, although she did not see its occupants get out because it parked some way ahead of her as she hurried Sandy into the Ladies’ Room befo
re ordering their second meal of the day.

  ‘I don’t think we should have more chips,’ she said. ‘How about an egg?’

  ‘I like eggs,’ Sandy nodded, ‘but I like chips better.’

  ‘H’mm! Well, eggs it is,’ Katherine decided. ‘I dare say you can have chips tomorrow when you’re at the cottage.’

  It was amazing how heartily he ate, she thought, realising that he had no fads about his food, and when they were on the road again she suggested another game.

  ‘Cows in a field,’ she said. ‘How many you can count as we pass!’

  ‘Brown ones?’ he asked.

  ‘Any colour. Most of them will be brown with white patches on their sides.’

  At the next junction she left the trunk road and a grey car turned with her. The same grey car which had followed her into the motorway cafe to park ahead of her.

  Her heart began to thump at the thought of being followed, but she managed to assure herself that it was no more than a coincidence.

  The Lake District was at its enchanting best as she drove slowly along the narrower, winding roads which skirted the mountains to reveal vast stretches of silver water cradled in deep dales where the sunlight slanted between ancient trees and the clouds sailed high in the clear blue sky. She was travelling west now, several miles out of her way, but what did it really matter? She had no fixed schedule, planning to enjoy herself by moving from place to place at will, with no ultimate destination in mind, which was the best way to see and appreciate her native land. If she reached the Trossachs and returned by the east coast in the three weeks she had allowed herself she would be well satisfied, and the detour into the Lake District which she was making now was one which she might have taken anyway.

  Glancing down at her small charge, she thought how easily Sandy had fitted into her scheme of things and how much she would miss him after tomorrow.

  At Keswick they stopped for a while to watch the sailing boats skimming across the smooth surface of Derwentwater and Sandy skipped along the shore road, glad to be free, but as soon as it was time to go on, to renew their journey, he climbed back into the car and sat solemnly upright beside her with his eyes on the road. Their journey was almost over.