Dangerous Encounter

by Flora Kidd

  'Get up and get dressed,' he ordered curtly. 'I'll see you downstairs in the kitchen.' And turning on his heel he left the room.

  Helen dressed quickly in Wanda's clothes again, washed in the bathroom on the second floor, examining her reflection in the mirror there, looking for changes in her appearance. Surely she should look different after what had happened? But she didn't. She looked just the same, a little pale as always, her eyes seeming very dark in contrast to her fair hair. Only her lips looked changed. They were more pink than usual.

  In the kitchen Magnus was sitting at the table eating cereal and consulting what seemed to be a timetable of some sort.

  'Tea is made,' he said laconically, not looking at her. 'You'll have to make do with cereal.'

  Helen poured her tea, filled a dish with cereal and poured milk on it, then sat down.

  'Where do you have to be by the end of today?' she asked matter-of-factly, although that wasn't what she really wanted to ask him. She wanted to say to him What's the matter? Why are you so cold, so indifferent this morning? Who are you today?

  'Rome,' he replied.

  'Oh, can you get there today?'

  'If I'm lucky. If I can get to Glasgow Airport in time to catch a shuttle flight at a few minutes past twelve that will get me to Heathrow with plenty of time to spare to change terminals and book on a flight to Rome this evening,' he replied coldly, and gave her a critical glance. 'I should have left here yesterday evening to make sure of getting to Rome today, but you weren't very co-operative. You would insist on having a decent meal before you went anywhere. And after that everything got out of control.'

  'Well, it wasn't my fault,' she retorted. 'I didn't drink too much whisky or too much wine. I didn't have to go for a walk to clear my head. I was quite ready to leave after we'd eaten. And that was why I went upstairs to look for you to ask you if you would take me to the mainland. And if you'd told me you wanted to go to Glasgow, and why, I might have been more disposed to co-operate with you. Why didn't you?'

  'Why should I?' he countered, pushing his chair back and rising to his feet. 'I thought you'd be so glad to leave when I suggested that we go that you'd jump at the chance. Now hurry up, or I'll leave without you and you'll be here all alone until Isabel Macleish comes to do the cleaning.' He stepped over to the porch and came back with Wanda's boots and yellow waterproof and dropped them on the floor beside her. 'Hurry up,' he ordered again, his voice crisping. 'And be ready to go when I come back. I'm just going to throw a few things into a bag and then I'm off.'

  He strode from the room, and after glaring at his unsuspecting back as if she would have liked to have hit him Helen finished her cereal and tea. By the time he came back to the kitchen she was ready and was standing by the porch door wearing her own rather shrunken but dry shoes and the yellow waterproof and was carrying her dried clothing in a plastic bag she had found in one of the kitchen drawers.

  Across the moors they walked separately, Magnus in front, his zipped holdall slung over one shoulder, Helen behind him wishing there was more time to enjoy the sunshine and the scenery. She always seemed to be crossing the island in a hurry, with no time to stand and stare at the beauties of nature. The small bay was flat, mirroring .everything perfectly, the stones of the jetty, the puffy white clouds sailing across the blue sky. But there was no black motorboat tied up there.

  'Where's the boat?' Helen exclaimed. 'Oh, surely it hasn't been washed away again! There wasn't much wind last night.'

  'No, it hasn't been washed away,' Magnus replied coolly, dropping his holdall down on the jetty. It never was washed away. I always put it in the boathouse when I've finished with it for the day.'

  'Oh, so that's where it was on Saturday night?'

  'That's where it was,' he remarked, giving her a sardonic look. 'Wait here while I go and get it.'

  'Magnus Scott, you're… you're the most deceitful, selfish, arrogant…'

  She broke off, because he hadn't stayed to listen to her tirade but was striding back along the jetty towards the path which curved round the bay to the boathouse. She watched him go, her breast still heaving with indignation, thinking of the many ways in which he had deceived her that weekend. He hadn't actually told any lies. He had just avoided answering her truthfully when she had asked direct questions. The only real lie had been his impersonation of Blair, because the castle did belong to a relative both of Magnus and Blair, Magnus's mother and Blair's mother-in-law, and in a way while he stayed at the castle Magnus was the caretaker. When Helen told him the boat had been washed away he hadn't denied that it had, but he hadn't seemed very worried either, and when she had asked him where he had found it he had said it didn't matter where. All that mattered was that he had found it and was able to rescue her.

  But what about the rest, about last night and all the talk about loving her more than any other woman he had loved before? It was beginning to look as if that had been a lie, a deliberate one just to get her to give in to him, to get what he wanted from her, because if he had meant it he wouldn't want her to leave now, would he? He'd keep her a prisoner here and they'd live on kisses and lemon pudding. Her lips quivered into a smile at the remembrance of his nonsense.

  The roar of the motorboat's engine starting up drew her attention and she looked across the bay. It was coming towards the jetty. In a few minutes it swerved around the end of the short protective wall and stopped at the steps. She handed the holdall and the plastic bag to Magnus and then stepped aboard.

  Across the strait of water, limpid blue this morning and deceptively still, not seeming at all dangerous, the boat swooped noisily, shattering the Sunday morning quiet. Turning in her seat, Helen looked back at Carroch, watching the island grow smaller and a little misty. Never would she see it again, yet she would always remember the two nights and a day she had spent there with the dangerously attractive, mercurial Magnus. Never would she forget him.

  The boat turned into the protection of the jetty on the mainland and stopped beside a sturdy varnished fishing boat which was tied up there. A fresh-faced man of about thirty years of age, dressed in a tartan shirt, jeans and seaboots, came down the jetty and caught the rope Magnus threw to him. When he had tied the rope to one of the iron rings in the jetty the young man came back and gave Helen a hand to help her out of the boat and up the steps.

  'Good morning, miss,' he said cheerfully. 'I'm Archie Macleish. How are ye this morning, Magnus?' he called out as he caught the holdall Magnus had thrown up to him. 'And what kept you last night? I was waiting for ye to come across until nearly midnight.'

  'Sorry, Archie;' replied Magnus as he came up the steps. 'There was something I had to do before leaving the castle, so we came across as soon as we could this morning. Did you manage to get the car open.'

  'I did that,' said Archie. .They all began to walk along the jetty towards the cottage. 'I used a wire coathanger.' He turned to Helen with a rueful grin. 'I hope ye won't be minding, miss. I had to pull away a little of the rubber protection around one of the windows to get the wire through, then I was able to hook the wire round the lever of the lock and pull it up. But you can always get that fixed, and I was thinking ye'd rather be able to get into the car than not. Now starting the engine without the key was a different matter,' he continued, turning back to Magnus. 'It's a case of crossing wires together. But come on, let me show you.' .

  When they reached the car Archie opened the trunk and showed them which two wires to cross to start the engine, warning them to keep the engine going once he had started it or they might not get it started again. Then Helen got into the driver's seat, Magnus put his holdall in the back seat and slid into the passenger seat beside her.

  'You won't mind giving me a lift to the airport, will you? I believe it's on your way home,' he said coolly.

  'No, I don't mind,' she replied, equally coolly. They said goodbye to Archie and drove off along the narrow road that twisted away from the sea past lush green meadows, where Highland cattle grazed b
efore climbing up to brown, rock-scattered moorland where flocks of sheep nibbled at heather. By the time they reached the junction with the main road to Lochgilphead Magnus was fidgeting with impatience, and Helen wasn't surprised when he asked her to stop.

  'Why?' she demanded, continuing to drive.

  'Because I want to get to the airport before noon. The plane leaves soon afterwards, and the rate you're going we'll be lucky if we get there tomorrow,' he jibed sarcastically.

  'I can't drive any faster along this road,' she retorted. There are too many bends.'

  'But I can drive faster,' he replied. 'Come on, stop and let's change places. Let me drive, Eilidh, please.'

  'Oh, all right,' she muttered ungraciously, and stopped the car on the shoulder of the road. 'Do you have a licence?'

  'Of course I have a licence. I just don't have a car.'

  'Then how did you get to the jetty at Archie Macleish's cottage so that you could cross to Carroch?' she asked.

  'By a very slow and tortuous route, by train to Oban where Archie picked me up in his van. Now move over into this seat so I can get into that one. And hurry up, we've wasted enough time already.'

  He got out of the door on the passenger side and went round to the door on her side and opened it. She didn't move.

  'Eilidh,' he said menacingly, 'are you going to move or am I going to shove you over?'

  'I think you're the most domineering, selfish…'

  'Deceitful egotist you've ever met,' he finished for her with a wicked glint. 'You see how well you've got to know me after all? And yet last night you said you didn't know me. Now come on Eilidh, love—move, or I'll miss that plane.'

  Helen moved, and he got into the seat beside her and revved the engine quickly because it was in danger of stopping. The car swerved out on to the road and was soon zooming along. He did drive fast, thought Helen as she hastily fastened the seatbelt. He drove like the madman he was, she thought viciously, flinging the little car at the bends and often taking the bends on the wrong side of the road, taking a chance on there being nothing coming from the opposite direction.

  'Oh, I think you're mad, quite mad!' she gasped. 'And I wish I'd never met you!'

  'I wish I'd never met you too,' he retorted.

  'You've only yourself to blame for that,' she replied.

  'I know, I know. I'm always to blame for anything that happens to me,' he said dryly. 'One of these days maybe I'll learn to draw back instead of rushing forward impulsively to help someone who asks for help. I'll stand back and let them go their own way. Next time Wanda… or any other friend of mine who wants help… I'll say No, what sort of a fool do you take me for?'

  Bitterness grated in his voice and she slanted a troubled glance in his direction.

  'I'm sorry,' she sighed. 'I shouldn't have said what I did. I didn't really mean it.'

  He took time to glance sideways at her, a faint smile curling his lips. Reaching out his left hand, he took hold of her right hand and squeezed it gently, then raised it to his lips to kiss it briefly.

  'I didn't mean it either,' he said softly. 'I'm glad I've met you, Eilidh. I was going through a very dark period of my life and you came to light it up.'

  'I suppose you're going to Rome to start making the film with Leo Rossi and Marta Nielsen,' she said.

  'That's right.'

  'How long will it take to make?'

  'It depends how well we all perform. Six months, nine months, possibly a year.' He shrugged. Tell me, when you get back to Glencross will you tell Blair where you've been? Will you tell him you've been with me on Carroch?'

  She thought about that, looking out through the windscreen at the rolling green hills and tawny moorland rising to distant purple-headed mountains, at the glint of blue water as they approached the shores of the great sea loch Loch Fyne and turned to follow its course as it delved inland, into the heart of the mountains of Argyll.

  'No, I won't tell him I've been with you,' she replied at last.

  'So how will you explain?' he asked, slanting her a curious glance.

  'I'll just tell him I changed my mind about going away with him.' She paused, then added frankly, 'I was in two minds about going away with him. We hadn't arranged anything definite and I was expecting him to phone me and ask me again, when you phoned me and pretended to be him.' She paused again, then added in a whisper, 'Maybe if… if he'd phoned me before you did I… I might have refused to go away with him. Who knows?'

  Magnus didn't say anything, but she knew he glanced at her again. They drove on in silence, the long blue loch on one side, the woods and hills on the other side. In the bright sunlight the white houses of Inverary were dazzling. Helen would have liked to have stopped and taken a walk through the old town, but she knew better than to ask Magnus. He had made up his mind what he wanted to do and come hell or high water he would do it, riding roughshod over anyone who came in his way, using anyone who happened to be around to get where he wanted to be, just as he was using her and her car to get to Glasgow Airport. He was like that—and now she knew something else about him.

  Through the mountain passes at the head of Loch Fyne they drove, always maintaining a fairly good speed because there was little traffic on the roads at that time on a Sunday. Later there would be cars, people out from the big city, driving out to look at the majestic scenery of Glen Croe. At Arrochar, instead of turning right to follow the road along which she had driven on Saturday and which follows the curve of Loch Long, Magnus drove bright across the narrow isthmus of land which divides Long Loch from Loch Lomond to take the slightly shorter route to Dumbarton.

  'Oh, ye'll tak' the high road and I'll tak' the low road,

  And I'll be in Scotland afore ye,

  But me and my trite love will never meet again

  On the bonnie, bonnie banks o' Loch Lomon'.'

  The words of the old Scottish ballad sang through Helen's mind as she stared out at the sun-shimmered water of the long lake, seeming to mock her. She and Magnus would never meet again, here on the Banks of Loch Lomond or anywhere else, she was quite sure of that. Once? he had left her to fly south, once he became involved in his own work, in the business of acting in a film, he would soon forget her and she would be only one of the many women he had condescended to love for a short time.

  But she didn't want him to forget her. She wanted him to remember as she would their strange brief and wild affair. She turned towards him urgently.

  'Magnus,' she whispered, and could say no more, because something rose within her, choking off her voice.

  'Mmm?' He didn't look at her because they were approaching Dumbarton now and there was more traffic.

  'Nothing,' she muttered. 'It doesn't matter.' Pride suddenly asserted itself, coming between her and him and insisting that she should not betray how she felt about him at that particular point in time. She wasn't the type to cling. The time of parting was close, and soon he would go his way and she would go hers and it would all be over. Life would go on.

  So in silence they finished their journey, crossing the River Clyde by the bridge at Erskine, and driving across the flat land of Renfrewshire to the airport. Sunlight glittered on glass and concrete of buildings, on the fuselages of aircraft and on the many cars in the car-park. Magnus stopped the car at the kerb in front of the main entrance.

  'As soon as I get out you'd better get into this seat and put your foot on the accelerator so that the engine doesn't stop,' he ordered in his most autocratic manner, and she obeyed while he opened the back door and took his holdall from the back seat.

  'Thanks for the lift,' he said casually, bending to look in at her.

  'Magnus… Magnus… is that all?' she whispered, when what she really wanted to do was to screech at him, 'Don't forget me, oh, please don't forget me. Please remember me!'

  'That's all, Eilidh,' he replied softly, and bending closer towards her kissed her hard on the lips. 'Have a safe trip home.'

  He slammed the door closed and turning a
way walked into the building. She watched him go through a blur of tears.

  'You can't park here, miss. You'll have to move on.' An airport official was looking in at her, through the slightly open window. 'You all right, miss?' he added, looking suddenly concerned. He was about as old as her father and had a kind face with grey eyes twinkling under bushy eyebrows.

  'Yes, thanks. I'm fine, just fine, and I'm moving on,' she replied with a smile which cost her a great effort.

  She hardly noticed the drive to Glencross as she performed each action automatically, shifting the gear lever, using the brake, turning on to the right roads by instinct. She drove straight to the block of flats where she lived, parked the car and then found the caretaker and explained that she had lost her keys. He went up to the flat with her and opened the door for her, promising he would have a new key for her the next day. Helen went in and closed the door behind her, standing still for a moment and looking round, glad to be there in the place where she could be herself, where she didn't have to pretend. Everything was just as she had left it; just as if she hadn't been away.

  Again pride stepped in and dictated that she shouldn't give way to the emotions which were churning through her, threatening to demoralise her. There was much to do—clothes to change, a meal to be made, telephoning to do. Not until she had bathed, put on some of her own clothes and had eaten a sandwich And drunk some coffee did she make the first of her telephone calls. She dialled Blair's number and a stranger answered, a woman who spoke softly without any Scottish accent.

  'Dr Calder's residence.'

  'May I speak to Dr Calder, please?' asked Helen.

  'Who is that calling, please?' answered the woman coolly.

  'I… is Mrs Gibson, his housekeeper, there?' Helen parried.

  'No. This is Mrs Calder speaking. Dr Calder is out at the moment. May I take a message for him?'

  Mrs Calder. Wanda was at Blair's house, then? Helen hesitated not sure whether she should tell Blair's wife who she was. Eventually she said rather weakly, 'Oh, no. It's all right,' and put the receiver down.