Moreton's Kingdom

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Moreton's Kingdom Page 12

by Jean S. MacLeod


  ‘Will that set you free?’ she asked. ‘Free from your sense of obligation,’ she added when he didn’t answer immediately.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said eventually. ‘All I want to be sure about is that he’ll come out of this without scars.’

  ‘I think he will,’ Katherine decided. ‘He’s not the sort of person to linger for ever in the past regretting what has happened to him. He has far more courage than that, and once his talent has been fully recognised I think he’ll put it all behind him and learn to live again. He has so much to look forward to, Charles, and so many people eager to help.’

  ‘Including you and Emma,’ he suggested with a brief smile which did not reach his eyes. ‘That should make a difference.’

  ‘If I can help I’ll be more than willing.’ Suddenly she had made her decision. ‘Fergus has asked me to go to Edinburgh for the Exhibition to arrange the commercial side of things, and Emma will help with the pictures.’

  ‘Where will you stay?’ he asked after the barest of pauses. ‘I have a flat in Heriot Row eating its head off for want of an occupant. You and Emma would be welcome to stay there.’

  She turned her back on him.

  ‘It’s good of you to offer, Charles,’ she said, ‘but I couldn’t accept. You’ve been kind enough while I’ve been here, more than kind when I looked on Glassary as a prison at first, but I can’t let you feel responsible for me any longer. I’ll find somewhere to stay in Edinburgh without difficulty, I dare say. It’ll be a sort of extension of my holiday.’

  ‘After which you will go back to London?’ he queried.

  ‘I suppose so.’ She made the decision without enthusiasm. ‘I’ll have to look for a permanent job.’

  After that brief encounter with Charles the days fled away with lightning speed as their preparations for the exhibition took shape, occupying all their time.

  ‘We’re lucky to get it in before the Festival fever begins,’ said Fergus as they wrestled with their choice of exhibits. ‘Otherwise we wouldn’t have a hope. Keep me from getting too excited about this,’ he added boyishly. ‘I’m half-way to the Academy already, so you’d better hit me on the head to bring me down to earth again!’

  ‘Fergus,’ said Katherine, ‘you’ll never be anything but modest, whatever happens! I’m going to put on my clairvoyant hat and tell you it’s all going to be a huge success and everything is going to turn out well for you and Emma. Her little animals are beautiful. They’re bound to make an impression and I think they’ll be a sell-out in the end.’

  ‘It would give her a tremendous lift,’ he said more seriously. ‘Emma has never been able to get out of the domestic rut for long, but she’s an artist to her fingertips. You’ll never hear her boast, but these little sculptures of hers are something special.’

  Emma came and went between the Stable House and the hotel, quietly busy as she collected the best of his canvases to transport them to Edinburgh in good time for the exhibition. She seemed to be glad of Katherine’s assistance, yet oddly wary of her, and Katherine supposed that she was a basically friendly person who had taken her on trust after a fairly short acquaintance and wasn’t completely sure if she had done the right thing. Emma worked like a Trojan, more for Fergus’s sake than her own, but even in the rush of preparations for such an important venture she found time for Sandy, carving him lifelike replicas of seals and an otter for his collection when she was not too busy at the hotel.

  Fergus, who had been teaching his son to fish, took him out on the loch in a boat, which seemed a risky sort of adventure when he could never keep still, and Katherine watched them with a vague longing in her heart, thinking that everything would be much the same at Glassary when she had gone. The old house would still be there on its green promontory overlooking the loch; the ducks would still bob in and out among the reeds, and an eagle would soar high above the mountains, while Sandy and Fergus and Charles would remain, happy in each other’s company, as they were now. It was almost impossible to look at them without pain now that she knew she was in love with Charles.

  The conviction haunted her as she went about the small routine tasks she had accepted at Glassary—helping Sandy to dress each morning; setting the table for their evening meal to relieve Mrs. Stevas of the extra work; going to the Stable House to carry old pictures down from the loft because Fergus couldn’t cope with the outside staircase yet, and putting Sandy to bed when she had supervised his final meal of the day with all Emma’s carved animals ranged in a row, looking on. Bedtime stories were also a part of this evening routine because, suddenly, they had become a family.

  Watching her, Fergus seemed fascinated by the change in his child. Sandy had become almost garrulous as he recounted the adventures of his busy day, and when Charles came in he had to repeat them for his uncle’s benefit, stringing out the telling of them to gain half an hour extra downstairs before Charles finally carried him up to bed.

  A deep warmth had settled on Glassary and even Charles seemed to be aware of it.

  ‘You’re doing a lot for Fergus,’ he told her one morning as he saddled the pony for his nephew. ‘He’s even beginning to look different.’

  ‘I can’t pretend it has to do with me, Charles,’ she said. ‘Several things have made this difference. Being useful again is one; being independent, if you like. And then—’ She hesitated. ‘There’s Emma,’ she went on deliberately. ‘They have so much in common, and this exhibition means a great deal to them. I know you’re helping, too—financially—and Fergus appreciates it.’

  ‘I’m hoping to get my money back on the deal when they’ve sold everything!’ Charles laughed, dismissing his own effort. ‘It’s the moral assistance that helps most at present, the help you and Emma are giving him. Have you made up your mind about the flat?’ he asked unexpectedly.

  ‘I spoke about it to Emma, but she won’t be able to stay in Edinburgh for more than a couple of days at a time because they’re busy at the hotel now.’

  ‘I was thinking about your own arrangements,’ said Charles.

  ‘Fergus knows someone who has a small private hotel in Royal Crescent.’

  ‘Douglas Grear and his wife? You’d find it noisy,’ he said, ‘but perhaps you wouldn’t mind that.’

  Katherine turned to face him.

  ‘Can’t you see that I don’t want to go on inconveniencing you?’ she demanded huskily. ‘I’ve been here on sufferance when you must have wanted Glassary to yourself, and having me in your flat would only make things more uncomfortable, especially if you wanted to occupy it yourself for the odd night.’

  ‘It was Fergus I was thinking about,’ he said abruptly. ‘He’ll feel better about things if he knows you’re comfortable, but please yourself about the offer. I won’t be in Edinburgh, I can assure you, and I wouldn’t put you out even if I did want the flat. I have several friends who could give me a bed for the night, so think about it.’

  Katherine finally discussed the proposition with Fergus.

  ‘Charles has offered me the use of his flat,’ she told him as they counted canvases in the downstairs sitting-room of the Stable House. ‘I don’t know whether to accept or not.’

  ‘It was my suggestion,’ he admitted, ‘but why don’t you use it? It would be most convenient for the gallery, for one thing, and you and Emma could shack up comfortably together on the odd night she could stay in Edinburgh.

  ‘What about you?’ Katherine asked. ‘And Sandy?’

  He looked uncomfortable.

  ‘Kate, would you mind very much if I didn’t come across very often?’ he asked apologetically. ‘I’m being a terrible coward about this, but I don’t think I could take it if I saw all my pictures hanging there without one single “sold” notice on them.’

  ‘That’s about the last thing you need worry about,’ Katherine contended. ‘They’ll sell like hot cakes!’

  ‘I wish I had your confidence,’ he smiled wryly. ‘I think they’re good, but another crushing disappointment wo
uld be more than I could take.’

  ‘What about Emma?’ Katherine asked. ‘She would be equally disappointed.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the same for Emma,’ he reasoned. ‘She’s useful in another sphere. Morag couldn’t do without her at the hotel, but I’m dispensable.’

  The sudden defeatist mood surprised her a little, although she could understand it.

  ‘I wasn’t thinking about Emma’s own work,’ she explained. ‘She would be far more disappointed if your pictures didn’t sell than she would be if her sculptures remained on the gallery shelves.’

  He paused for a moment to consider her argument. ‘You’re perfectly right, Kate,’ he said. ‘Emma’s the greatest person I know. A true friend.’

  ‘So it’s goodbye to the fit of the blues?’ Katherine joked. ‘All your pictures are going to sell!’

  He put an arm round her shoulders.

  ‘D’you know, I think you’re good for me,’ he said, ‘and you’re certainly good for Sandy. He’s come right out of his shell these past few days.’

  ‘It’s thanks to Emma, too, you know,’ Katherine pointed out. ‘He’s very fond of her.’

  ‘She bribes him!’ Fergus laughed. ‘With all these animals she carves for him.’

  ‘I don’t think that’s her reason at all,’ Katherine protested. ‘She does it for love.’

  He turned his head away.

  ‘Love for Sandy,’ he said. ‘What else could it be? Emma’s always been a caring sort of person: caring what becomes of her friends, possibly caring about me and certainly about Sandy for the past couple of years. She couldn’t understand Coralie and tried to stop her when she went away. I couldn’t.’ He sighed heavily. ‘What had I to offer her, anyway?’

  ‘Glassary and a lifetime of contentment at the Stable House,’ Katherine answered promptly.

  ‘That would be enough for you or Emma,’ he mused, ‘but not for Coralie. I ought to have been able to understand her desire for freedom to do her own thing, but I didn’t. Sometimes, in my wilder moments, I feel that I should have been more demanding, but it wouldn’t have worked. Coralie was determined to go. She couldn’t bear defeat, and I understand that more easily now. I’d like you to be at the flat with Emma,’ he added, ‘while I’m here with Sandy.’

  It was something she had to do for him, Katherine realised, something small but important; more important than her pride.

  She approached Charles about her change of mind the following morning when she found him at the breakfast table encouraging his small nephew to eat up his porridge.

  ‘Will I be big and strong like you if I do?’ Sandy was asking as she opened the door.

  ‘Bigger and stronger, I expect!’ Charles pushed back his chair. ‘It could also make you pretty, like Katherine!’

  Sandy considered the point.

  ‘I don’t want to be pretty,’ he said. ‘Just strong. I don’t want to be a girl.’

  Charles laughed.

  ‘You’re fine as you are,’ he said, ‘and we’ve decided to keep you.’ He looked across the table at Katherine. ‘When do you go to Edinburgh?’ he asked.

  ‘I wanted to speak to you about that.’ She sat down opposite him. ‘Can I change my mind about borrowing your flat?’

  ‘Certainly. I thought you would,’ he added, ‘when you had talked it over with Fergus.’

  ‘I’d take great care of it.’

  ‘I’m sure you will, although you’ll find it’s pretty basic. A man’s domain, in fact,’ he warned.

  ‘That won’t matter,’ she assured him. ‘Emma and I will be out all day and sometimes in the evenings, I expect, and we won’t be giving parties.’

  ‘You can please yourself about the parties,’ he said, ‘but I would guess that you’d be far too tired for midnight flings after you’ve been at the gallery all day. I’ll give you the key.’

  While he was unfastening it from his key-ring she tried to thank him.

  ‘It’s very kind of you, Charles, especially after I’d refused.’

  ‘It’s easy enough to change one’s mind. People do it all the time, and Fergus will feel better about it if you’re at the flat.’ The emphasis was on his brother’s continuing peace of mind. ‘There’s a caretaker on the top floor, by the way, who controls the speaking system when the flats are empty. Do you know how it works?’

  ‘I think so. A friend had one in London and there was one at Millie Downhill’s, if you remember?’ A deep colour rose into her cheeks, as she mentioned the noisy cocktail party where they had first met. Where he had first learned to distrust her, she thought. ‘I suppose they’re all much the same.’

  ‘More or less.’ Charles handed over two keys, a Yale and a larger one for a mortice lock. ‘You’ll need them both,’ he explained, ‘when you first go in if you don’t want to disturb the caretaker. The flat’s on the first floor and there isn’t a lift.’

  Their fingers touched as Katherine took the keys and she drew back as if she had been scorched.

  ‘You’re quite sure you won’t want to come to Edinburgh?’ she asked to hide her emotion.

  Charles shook his head.

  ‘Not to the flat,’ he said. ‘I might take a look in at the exhibition once it gets going.’

  ‘We’re banking on it so much,’ she confessed, echoing some of Emma’s enthusiasm. ‘It means such a lot to Fergus and we just can’t allow him to be disappointed.’

  ‘Not a second time,’ said Charles, turning towards the door. ‘I’ve made up my mind about that.’

  Katherine could not see his face, but she could imagine the determination reflected in the grey eyes and the grim look of the mouth. They were all trying to help in their different ways and Charles was ruthless in his pursuit of repayment, seeing her as a willing tool where his brother was concerned.

  ‘Fergus will learn to live again,’ she said unsteadily. ‘His life is only beginning in many ways, and he’ll soon forget Coralie.’

  ‘With your help,’ he said abruptly as he went out in search of his brother.

  Katherine sat quite still when he had gone, thinking that she had no right to call him back to dispute that final statement or tell him that she loved him. When she looked about her everything she saw spoke to her of Charles: the quiet, homely room where the sun came flooding in over the tree tops in the early morning; the crackling of the wood fire burning cosily in the grate; the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, heard clearly because he had left the door open, and probably more than everything else, Sandy, the nephew he loved. Outside she could hear the little noises she had come to recognise as essential to Glassary—the clucking of pheasant chicks in the breeding pens beyond the back door; the bleating of lambs up on the hill and the ewe’s answering call and, finally, the click of the gate as Charles went through the shrubbery on his way to the Stable House to discuss the morning’s work with his brother. It was his way of involving Fergus in the running of the estate, a kindness which the younger man appreciated, although she knew that Fergus looked on Glassary as Charles’s kingdom and would rather stand firmly on his own two feet at the Stable House. If he could sell his pictures in a wider market that would be possible, but if not he would still be dependent on Charles till he found some other job.

  They took the first canvases over to Edinburgh the following day, packing them carefully in the back of the Rover with sheets of cardboard in between while Emma followed in her Mini with her carvings in boxes and two of her larger sculptures on the passenger seat by her side. Mrs. Stevas would look after Sandy, a task which she greatly enjoyed, and Charles would go his own way in the Range Rover, covering the lonely miles of Glassary to check on sheep.

  Fergus was quite capable of driving, but he tired easily.

  ‘Would you like a change of seat?’ Katherine asked him when they had gone half way. ‘I’d love to get my hands on that steering-wheel!’

  He smiled at her thoughtfulness, a little wryly, she thought.

  ‘We’ll stop
at the next watering place,’ he agreed. ‘Emma will have caught up with us by then and she’ll be ready for a coffee.’

  Emma drew up ten minutes later in the overloaded Mini.

  ‘I thought I’d find you here,’ she said cheerfully, coming to join them at the cafe table. ‘Does anyone want to swop cars?’

  ‘We’ve just arranged that Kate should drive the Rover for a while,’ Fergus explained. ‘I tend to get cramp sitting in one position for too long.’

  Emma looked concerned.

  ‘You’re sure you can make the journey in one go?’ she asked.

  ‘Of course! Didn’t you know I was the perfect passenger when I can stretch my legs occasionally? Don’t worry about me, Em,’ he said. ‘I’m as anxious to get to Edinburgh as you are and we need to get there this morning.’

  There was enthusiasm and a touch of excitement in his voice and Katherine could feel her own anticipation mounting in sympathy. The exhibition meant so much to him and Emma, although the end of it could mean nothing but parting as far as she was concerned. In three weeks’ time it would be goodbye to Charles and Glassary for ever.

  Edinburgh on a Saturday morning was a hive of activity, like any great city, but the Scottish capital had an air of regality as the sun shone down on Princes Street with the Mound and the castle rising splendidly above it. The trees in the Gardens were in splendid bloom, adding colour to the scene, and high above the Calton Hill white clouds sailed across a sky which was gloriously blue.

  ‘It’s the most beautiful city in the world,’ Emma said patriotically as they drew up at the gallery together. ‘It’s a pity we have to work!’

  The little gallery had been closed for a week, but a great deal of rubbish left by the former occupants had to be cleared away, boxes and plastic containers and large sheets of corrugated cardboard which Emma husbanded for future use.

  ‘Not that I expect us to be taking much back with us,’ she said cheerfully, ‘but there are still a few things to bring across on Monday.’

  ‘I thought we’d leave the murals behind,’ said Fergus. ‘They’re the sort of thing that’s generally commissioned.’

 

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