“Hello!” she murmured.
They kissed, and her mouth tasted of honey. They made love, each of them giving and sharing, and at the height of their ecstasy it felt as if their souls touched.
As they were falling asleep again, entwined in each other’s arms, their emotion slowly receding like a sunset, they felt, like a whisper, as if something inside each of them was singing a love song to the other. They didn’t leave the room for three days, losing track of time as they made love, shared feelings and confidences, and ate and slept when they remembered to. They tried to read the notes on Muslim culture and religion, and started on Alan’s Arabic lessons, laughing as they listened to the tape and tried to reproduce the unfamiliar sounds. When eventually their stock of food ran out, they went shopping, unaware of the indulgent looks cast in their direction by other shoppers, at once happy and envious of them.
In their happiness they visited Claire, who was profoundly relieved to hear Kirsty’s key in the lock. She’d been building up in her mind all kinds of scenarios. She’d even wakened from a nightmare about Kirsty dressed in a short leather skirt and a low-cut jumper, chewing gum and heavily made up, importuning male passers-by on a dingy street. She’d also had fantasies about her being taken to Iraq and sold as a slave to a fat Arab sheikh, and another of her wandering homeless, calling Claire’s name.
Her pleasure at seeing Kirsty looking so radiant faded when she saw Alan standing behind her, and her manner was frosty. Despite Kirsty’s entreaties, she made it plain that Alan was not welcome. Kirsty left after collecting her mail and a few belongings. Afterwards Claire cried, but turned the bitterness inside herself towards Alan. These were wonderful happy days for Alan and Kirsty. They began to socialise, with Alan introducing her at staff gatherings where Professor Grant and his wife were kind to her, making her feel at ease. She seemed oblivious to the admiring looks and mild flirtations of Alan’s colleagues. Alan however was suspicious, particularly of Marc who seemed to Alan to be near Kirsty far too often. His feelings see-sawed between pride and jealousy until he was at her side again, for no matter how many times they were separated, like opposite magnetic poles they speedily drifted together again, even in the most crowded room.
They spent long hours learning Arabic. Kirsty would point to objects in the room, or pictures in his notes and ask Alan to name them in Arabic. They made a game of it and he was amazed how quickly he learnt when it was fun. He also attended the university for short coaching sessions in pronunciation with Dr. Sadiq and took Kirsty along to a few of them.
She helped him to start collecting the things he would need for Iraq. The items on Dr. Taylor’s list had obviously been chosen by experienced travellers. They included packets of picture postcards which could be given as small presents, thin cotton tea towels, as they took up less space than normal towels, and dried quickly, bath plugs as Muslims are obliged to wash in running water; a cheap watch with a resin strap as leather rots quickly in a hot clammy climate, a “Testimonial” in grand writing to impress petty officials, as well as the usual items needed for a long stay abroad.
They spent hours in bed in each other’s arms, talking, holding each other and kissing and touching. They explored each other with delicate fingertips and lips, tasting with the tips of their tongues.
Under delicate probing, Alan found himself discussing his former sexual adventures, not sparing himself in his description of disasters as well as conquests. They discussed their early childhood and their schooldays and Kirsty told him about the death of her mother and how Claire had looked after her.
She surprised him by telling him that she’d decided to change her degree course to Environmental Studies, so she could share and understand his work. Alan, humbled at her commitment to him, took her to Professor Grant, who was delighted to enrol her for the course and took time off from his busy schedule to explain the course to her. She’d already passed higher mathematics and higher biology, which were the main requirements, and had continued her studies into sixth year. He affirmed that she was an ideal candidate and depending on her sixth-year studies results, she might even get direct entry to the second year of the course. Since they were due to visit Alan’s parents the next day, Kirsty visited Claire that evening to collect some more of her clothes.
She shouted, “It’s me!” as she opened the front door, then waited for a few moments in case Frank was visiting. She pushed open the door of the lounge.
Claire put down her book and looked up frowning, but when she saw Kirsty, shut the door behind her, obviously alone, she smiled a welcome. She eyed the case her sister was carrying.
“He’s thrown you out then?” she asked hopefully.
“In your dreams,” Kirsty retorted, her face flushed with annoyance.
“Just joking,” Claire backpedalled.
“Alan’s invited me down to visit his parents for a couple of days.”
“Oh!” Claire kept her voice carefully neutral.
“How are you getting on with Frank?”
“Fine.”
“Claire?”
“Uh-huh”’
Kirsty put down her case and pushed her hands deep into the pockets of her jeans.
She hesitated. “Alan said he thought there was something very nice inside you. He said he wouldn’t mind you for a sister.”
Claire sneered. “Does he usually beat up the people he likes?”
Kirsty flushed and turned away, picked up her case and disappeared to her bedroom. Claire felt guilty but told herself it was for her sister’s own good. Kirsty reappeared a short time later carrying her case. She put it down and came to stand in front of her. She looked up from her book. Kirsty went on her knees in front of her and rested her hands on her lap.
“Claire?”
She took in the tears in Kirsty’s eyes. “Yes Kirsty?”
“For my sake, will you accept Alan? Please.”
Claire hesitated, but she hardened her heart. “No way. He’s just using you. You won’t see him again when he leaves for Iraq.”
She saw her sister’s lips tighten, then she stood, lifted her case and left without a backward glance. After the door slammed, Claire called herself a fool, and almost gave in to chase after Kirsty, but her pride wouldn’t allow her.
The next morning Kirsty helped Alan pack some of his belongings that he would be leaving at his parent’s and the few things he would need for their stay in Edinburgh, not forgetting the latest Arabic lessons from Dr. Sadiq and the new cassette he’d graduated to with Kirsty’s help. After packing her own case and shoulder bag, she left with him to walk to the railway station, trying to hide her nervousness.
Chapter 35
As they crossed the Forth Bridge Kirsty’s chatter grew nervous. Alan did his best to reassure her. He’d already told her much about his parents, what they looked like and that his father was a gynaecologist who visited various hospitals in Edinburgh.
“Just be yourself,” he advised, giving her hand a squeeze. “They’ll love you.”
They caught a taxi at Waverley Station. He noticed Kirsty’s look at the villa set back from the road in a large garden.
“It’s a bit imposing,” he heard her falter.
“Just a pile of bricks,” he tried to reassure her.
As he rang the bell, he felt her hand slip into his. The door opened. His mother, stroking her fair hair from her face, let her eyes skate over him to cast an appraising glance at Kirsty.
Before he had a chance to open his mouth she said, “You must be Kirsty, come in.”
Kirsty gave him a nervous glance, then followed his mother’s slim figure into the house, leaving him feeling redundant, standing with the cases at the door. He lugged them upstairs.
He came downstairs to the lounge to give Kirsty moral support but found them both sitting close together on the settee, where his mother with apparent friendliness was giving Kirsty the third degree. The conversation stopped when he entered. They smiled at him, but feeling he was intrudin
g, he wandered out to the back garden and perched on the low patio wall, admiring his father’s neat row of lettuces. By his mother’s expression and tone of voice it appeared she had taken to Kirsty. That was one worry, less, he thought. He sat for a while letting his thoughts drift.
He looked up as his mother popped her head out of the door to call, “Lunch is ready if you’re interested.”
Question time must be over, he thought as he trooped obediently into the kitchen, where Kirsty was setting cups and saucers around a plate of sandwiches on the kitchen table. To his relief, she seemed quite relaxed and at home.
He found that his mother had planned an itinerary for Kirsty and himself. He listened as she gave him instructions.
“Kirsty has never seen around Edinburgh castle, so you must take her there tomorrow morning. We’re both going shopping in the afternoon, then she’d like to see the new Lloyd Webber musical at the Playhouse, so I’ve phoned and managed to get a couple of tickets for tomorrow night. You can collect them while we’re shopping.” She paused for breath. “Anything else you’d like to do Kirsty?”
She grinned at him. “I can’t think of anything now.”
“Just tell me if you do and I’ll make sure that he takes you,” Mum declared, giving him her ‘No argument’ look. They finished their lunch and his mother stood up. “I’ll show you to your room, Kirsty.”
“Thank you,” Kirsty hesitated.
The older woman noticed, “Call me Isobel.”
“I’ll clear up,” Alan offered. He was washing the dishes when Kirsty returned.
He whispered in her ear. “I suppose you’re in the spare room next to me. It wouldn’t surprise me if she sleeps on the landing in a sleeping bag.”
Kirsty laughed. “I think she’s nice.”
“Come here,” Alan ordered. Kirsty stood close and he buried his face in her hair then kissed her neck, keeping his soapy hands to himself.
Kirsty pulled away. “Here’s your Mum,” she whispered.
Alan’s mother bustled in and scowled at him. “I suppose you’ll have a pile of clothes for me to wash. Well you had better take them out, so I can get them done before you leave.”
He washed the last of the cups. “I’ll do it now.”
Isobel spoke over her shoulder as she dried the dishes. “Katie is coming for a visit next week, perhaps you and Alan would like to come back for a few days to meet her?”
“I would love to,” Kirsty agreed. “Alan has told me a lot about her.”
Katie was Alan’s sister, she was two years older than him, and Kirsty knew that she was married to Euan, an English teacher, and that they lived in Skye and had a baby girl, Caira, about four months old.
“I’ve hardly seen Caira since she was born,” went on Isobel. “Katie will be down for a couple of weeks, Euan is going off on some course.”
Kirsty heard the front door close. A distinguished looking man with greying hair appeared at the kitchen door. She knew right away that it was Alan’s father, the resemblance was striking. She felt the warmth of his smile.
“You must be Kirsty,” he said. He held out his hand. “I’m David.”
She felt nervous as she took his hand, it was warm and dry. She felt his eyes searching inside her. He let go her hand, pulled her to his chest and hugged her.
“Alan’s a lucky man,” he murmured. He released her. Kirsty felt his acceptance of her. She relaxed and smiled up gratefully. “Has Isobel been looking after you?” he asked, turning to his wife.
Isobel interrupted. “The water should be hot enough for your bath Kirsty, I’ve left a towel out for you.” Kirsty smiled and left. Isobel waited until she heard Kirsty climb the stairs.
“Well, what do you think?”
David raised his eyebrows. “I like her. What do you think?”
“I don’t know.” Isobel looked pensive. “She seems very sure of herself.”
“That’s the modern girl for you,” he grinned. “You were no shrinking violet.”
She gave him a push. “But seriously, I think she’s set her cap at Alan.”
“What does that quaint expression really mean?”
“I think she’s decided he’s going to marry her.”
“Isn’t that how it’s usually done?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Well bully for her,” David retorted. “Alan needs someone to keep him in order.”
“You’ve hardly spoken to her.”
“For goodness sake dear, he’s just invited a girlfriend down to meet us.”
“You didn’t hear him on the phone or see the way he looks at her, he’s serious.”
“Well dear, he’s a grown man and she seems a nice, intelligent, healthy young woman. As far as I’m concerned she can take him off our hands right now.” Isobel lapsed into exasperated silence.
Kirsty peeped into Alan’s room. He was emptying his case. He looked up and smiled a welcome. She came in and looked around. A computer with various peripherals sat on a desk to the right of a long high bookcase. She examined the book titles. Science fiction; Earth sciences; a collection of Thackery; a half shelf of Zane Grey; various classics. She looked in the wardrobe at his clothes, stroking and feeling the cloth. She examined his toiletries, sniffing at his deodorants and aftershaves.
She glanced round to see Alan grinning at her. “Seen enough?” he asked.
“I’ll maybe have a good rake around sometime.” She gave him a coy look. “I want to know everything about you, I’m sizing you up for husband material.”
Alan patted the bed. She sat beside him and eventually prised her lips from his. “Was that Dad I heard?” he asked.
“Yes, he likes me.”
“What about Mum?”
Kirsty looked thoughtful. “She’s friendly, but I don’t think she’s made up her mind.”
“She’ll come around,” he promised.
“Does she know that we are living together?”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I never mentioned it.”
“Well I’m not going to hide it.” Kirsty was vehement. “Keeping secrets led to enough trouble with Claire.”
He agreed. “We’ll wait for the right moment.”
Kirsty looked at him. “What do you mean?”
“Well we don’t just walk up to Mum and say, ‘We are living together.’ We’ll wait until an opportunity presents itself.”
“But we must do it.” She stood up. “I’m going to have a bath.”
Alan leered. “Do you want me to do your back?”
She gave him a push, so he toppled back onto the bed. “I don’t think your Mum would approve,” she ran out before he could retaliate.
Alan finished his unpacking, went downstairs, made himself a coffee then joined his parents in the lounge.
“Well?” he asked eagerly.
His father got in first. “She’s very nice.” He looked at his wife.
Isobel conceded. “She’s nice enough, I suppose.”
David saw Alan’s face fall. “Don’t mind your Mum”, he comforted. “If Kirsty was a combination of the Virgin Mary and Joan of Arc, she still wouldn’t be good enough for you.” Isobel snorted.
Alan smiled gratefully at his father. “She intended to do a Maths degree, but changed her course to Environmental Studies, so that she could work with me.”
“I’m impressed,” said his father. “I think you’ve made a great catch, don’t let her get away.”
Alan eyed his mother. “I love her Mum.”
She started to say something then stopped. She started again. “You’ve only known her a few weeks and she’s very young.” Just then there was a knock.
Kirsty looked around the door, looking pink faced, from her bath. “Can I come in?.”
Isobel stood up. “You don’t have to knock Kirsty, come in and sit down, Alan will make you a coffee.”
‘At least she has manners,’ she thought.
At dinner that evening she found out more ab
out Kirsty, who answered her delicate probing questions with tact and apparent honesty. Isobel began to warm to her.
On a walk before bed, Kirsty confided. “Your Mum’s starting to like me.”
Alan kissed her upraised lips. “I told you she would.”
On their return, they stopped for a long kiss on the steps of the house. “I think I’ll lock my door tonight,” she murmured.
“You don’t need to, Mum would murder me,” he muttered as they went in. They climbed the stairs and went to their separate bedrooms. They both tossed and turned, finding it strange to sleep alone.
They had a late breakfast then set out for Edinburgh castle after agreeing to meet Isobel for lunch at Jenner’s in Princes Street. As Alan took Kirsty round the castle, he pointed out fortifications which dated from the thirteenth century and a few parts which were much older. Kirsty listened to his tales of William Wallace, Robert the Bruce, the English King Edward, and Bonnie Prince Charlie. Alan knew his history intimately and Kirsty could almost hear the clashing of swords, the shouts, and the roar of cannon as he became wrapped up in his description.
They wandered down the Royal Mile which swept downhill from the castle to Holyrood Palace, past centuries old houses, still in good repair and even still lived in.
As Alan passed the central police building, he remarked, “I thought I was going to jail for treason there when I was sixteen.” Kirsty gave him an astonished look. He continued. “I was an ardent member of the Scottish National party. One night I was sticking posters on shop windows in Princes Street.”
“What kind of posters?” Kirsty interrupted.
Love Patterns Page 25
