‘Aye,’ he agreed, ‘we’ve all changed – older and wiser and uglier . . .’
Understanding why he had stopped, Olive murmured, ‘How do you think he is? In himself, I mean?’
Alf screwed up his face. ‘I’m not sure, but I’d say he’s OK. He took it really hard when Freda died but as far as I can tell, this business . . . well, he’s bound to feel terrible about it but I don’t think it’s twisted his mind.’
‘I didn’t think so, either, but I wasn’t sure.’ Hesitating for a second, she went on, ‘I’ve always loved him, Alf, and I think . . . oh, this probably sounds conceited, but I’m nearly sure he loves me. That’s why I’ve decided to go away. I can easily get another nursing job somewhere else.’ She listened for the familiar creak of the outhouse door, then continued. ‘You see, I’ve got a suspicion that he’s going to ask me to marry him . . .’
‘He told me he was thinking of getting married though I’d no idea you were the Sister White he was speaking about.’
‘I can’t marry him, Alf, not now, not ever.’
‘You’ll get over your husband’s death, Olive.’
‘It’s not that . . . well, it is, in a way.’ She felt as if she were entangled in some huge, suffocating mesh. She could never tell anyone how Ron had died – Doctor Peters, in his concern for her, had made that impossible – yet there was no other way to explain.
Perplexed by the hunted look in her eyes, Alf said, ‘After I see Neil into the hospital, I’ll come back, for I can see there’s something you need to get off your chest.’
‘I can’t tell anybody.’
‘I’m not anybody – I’m good old Alf, remember?’
Catching the sound for which she had been listening, Olive whispered, ‘Don’t leave me alone with him, and come back if you want to.’ Then she said, in a loud voice, ‘What are you intending to do now that you’re demobbed?
‘I’m going to have a bloody good time for a while!’
They were both laughing when Neil came in but he didn’t sit down. ‘It’s time we were going, Alf. This lassie has to go to work in the morning and I’m feeling a wee bit tired.’ Turning to his cousin, he held out his hand, ‘I’ll just say goodnight, then, Olive.’ He had hoped that she would ask him to resume his regular visits but she just brushed his hand with her fingertips.
‘Goodnight, Neil, and goodnight, Alf, it was great seeing you again.’
Neil was quiet as they made their way down the small path and, after a few minutes, Alf said gently, ‘What’s worrying you, Neil boy?’
‘I’m sure she loves me,’ Neil mumbled, ‘but you could see for yourself that she keeps me at a distance. She’s never asked me to the house once since Ron’s funeral and I used to come twice a week.’
Because he didn’t know what was bothering Olive, Alf tried to soothe his friend by making a joke of it. ‘She’s probably worried about the neighbours. A widow being alone with a man in that wee cottage? The tongues would wag and not without cause, if I know you.’
Neil didn’t smile, ‘She wouldn’t care what the neighbours said and, anyway, it’s only the folk in the farmhouse that can see who goes in and out. Maybe she’s too ashamed of my face to marry me?’
‘God, it’s not that, Neil. She does love you, that sticks out a mile but . . . she’s not ready yet. Give her time.’
‘How long does she need? It’s six months since Ron died and I know she didn’t love him, so what’s wrong with her?’
‘Take it easy, Neil boy. It’ll work out.’
When they arrived at the hospital, Alf waited until Neil was safely inside, then turned and hurried back the way he had come and Olive opened the door so quickly to his knock that he knew she had been standing waiting for him.
Laying his cap on the table, he pulled a chair up to the fire and stretched out his hands to the heat, ‘It’s getting airish out there. Right then, Olive, out with it.’
‘I’ve been thinking while you were gone,’ she began, ‘and the only way I could make you understand would be if I told you the whole truth.’
‘So go on, I’m all ears.’
‘It’s not as easy as that, Alf. It’s not just me, I’ve got to consider somebody else, somebody else who’s involved.’
‘Christ, Olive, you don’t mean there’s another man?
She shook her head impatiently, ‘I told you I still loved Neil. Oh, God, I don’t know what to do. I want to marry him more than anything in the world, it’s what I dreamed of for years but . . .’ She broke off, wringing her hands in despair, then added vehemently, ‘I have to get away from him.’
Alf leaned forward and caught one of her hands, stroking it as he said, ‘Listen, Olive. I know you’ve loved him for a long time so why the hell do you want to break his heart?’
‘I don’t want to,’ she exclaimed, her voice cracking, ‘for it’ll break mine as well, but I have to.’
Alf jumped up and pulled her to her feet, enfolding her in his arms as she burst into tears. ‘Tell me,’ he coaxed. ‘I’m sure I can sort things out for you. It’s something to do with your husband, isn’t it? Neil says you didn’t love Ron but did he love you?’
It felt easier to talk about it when she was being held so tightly and didn’t have to look in his face, ‘Yes, he loved me, and he married me knowing that I didn’t love him. He was a fine man, Alf, and I was happy with him until Neil . . .’
‘Did he find out about you and Neil?’
‘I didn’t think so, but he wrote in the letter that he . . .’
She stopped so abruptly and with such a horrified intake of breath before she began to sob wildly, that Alf knew that the letter had been a suicide note. Understanding fully now, he let her cry, for it looked as if this was the first time she had let herself go.
Several minutes passed before she drew back slightly but he pulled her against him again. ‘He killed himself to let you and Neil get together?’
‘Oh, God, I’ve let it out, after all. He was doing it for me, but I can’t marry Neil after that.’
‘You said there was another person involved.’
‘The doctor knew what Ron had done, but because he guessed why, he made out the death certificate as “cardiac arrest”. If it ever comes out that he made a false entry, his career could be ruined but he only did it so people wouldn’t know about Ron’s suicide. He did it for my sake, so please don’t ever breathe a word of it, Alf, especially to Neil.’
‘I would never have told anybody anyway, Olive, it’s safe with me.’ Alf’s brain was working frantically. How could he convince her that her husband’s suicide was pointless if she didn’t marry Neil? She was so chock-full of guilt that she wouldn’t listen to anything he said, but he had to try and he still owed Neil for saving his life. ‘Sit down, Olive,’ he said quietly, ‘and we’ll see if we can thrash this thing out properly between us.’
As he had known, she stuck obstinately to her decision to go away so that Neil would forget her, even when he told her that it was the most cruel thing she could do, until he had a sudden brainwave. ‘This doctor chappie,’ he began, ‘he did what he did for your sake, you say?’
‘Yes, to save me embarrassment, that was how he put it. If it’s not a natural death, the police have to be called in and there has to be an autopsy.’
‘Aye, I understand that, but did he know about Neil?’
‘He guessed there was somebody and that was why Ron . . .’
‘So . . . the doctor was giving you a way to save your face, a way to marry Neil without folk saying, “That’s why her man took his life. She must have been carrying on with this one, and he found out.” Do you see what I’m getting at?’
‘Yes,’ she said slowly, the idea obviously new to her. ‘I suppose that’s one way of looking at it. Do you really think that’s why Doctor Peters did it?’
Aware that she was weakening, he pressed on, ‘Certain, and he’s made a stand for nothing if you persist in this stupid attitude. Ron wanted you to get tog
ether with Neil, and this doctor wanted it, and you and Neil want it, so for Christ’s sake, Olive, grab your happiness with both hands as quick as you can. You’re a long time dead.’
She gave an uncertain laugh, ‘Oh, Alf, I should have known your silver tongue would get round me.’
‘So?’ he grinned. ‘Will I tell Neil when I see him in the morning that you’ll marry him?’
‘He hasn’t asked me yet.’
‘He would if he got the chance.’
She drew away now and after a lengthy pause, she smiled, ‘You can tell him to come to tea tomorrow but please don’t say anything else. I want everything to come from him, the courtship, the proposal . . .’
‘But you’ll invite me to the wedding when it’s fixed?’
‘You’ll be best man. Neil wouldn’t have anyone else.’
‘Well, now that’s all arranged, I’d better get to my hotel in case they lock the doors at midnight.’
Olive kissed him on the cheek, ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without you, Alf. Thank you.’
With a twinkle in his eye, he grabbed her round the waist. ‘What kind of kiss was that for the best man?’
His was a little more than just a friendly kiss, although there was no passion in it, and he let his arms drop with a prolonged sigh, ‘Neil’s a lucky blighter.’
Picturing his poor face, she thought that Neil wouldn’t consider himself lucky, but she knew what Alf had meant and let him out without saying anything more. Sitting down, she went over all his arguments again and by the time she went to bed, she was happier than she had been for months. Why shouldn’t she grab her happiness when she could? It was what Ron had wanted for her, what the doctor had wanted for her, and more than anything, what she wanted for herself.
She loved Neil more than she had ever done, as a woman not a spoiled child, yet she had been prepared to give him up. Would she have been brave enough to go away when the actual time came? Probably not. She’d said nothing to Alf about the baby, but she would tell Neil before they were married and trust that it wouldn’t affect how he felt about her. If fate designed people’s destinies, they had been meant to come together eventually, and all the troubles of the past had been sent to test them. They had come through, not unscathed – for there would be painful memories for each of them – but just a little tarnished.
Smiling, she stood up and went through to the bedroom.
ALSO AVAILABLE FROM BIRLINN BY DORIS DAVIDSON
BROW OF THE GALLOWGATE
The brow of the Gallowgate is where Albert Ogilvie buys his property in 1890 - the shop he has dreamed of for years, and above it, a house with nine rooms to accommodate the large family he and his beloved wife, Bathie, desire. As their babies are born - there will be eight in all - Albert employs three sisters, one after another, as nursemaids. Bathie finds Mary and Jeannie Wyness more than satisfactory, but Bella, the youngest, is troublesome and sly, and creates a set of distressing circumstances resulting in her dismissal. The years go by, with their joys and sorrows, and war splits up the close-knit Ogilvies, some of whem eventually emigrate to New Zealand. And it is there that Bella Wyness, her resentment of the family grown to black hatred, will wreak her terrible revenge...
COUSINS AT WAR
The sequel to her novel ‘Brow of the Gallowgate’, Doris Davidson’s latest novel follows the fortunes of the Ogilvie family through the World War II. Olive is determined to have her cousin Neil as her husband and won’t allow anything or anyone to get in her way. So when her younger cousin Queenie is evacuated from London and begins to attract Neil’s attention, Olive does all she can to avert the relationship. When warnings and threats fail, Olive concocts a web of lies to blacken Queenie’s character and destroy her cousins’ love. Despite Olive’s success, her actions fail to secure Neil, who finds himself involved with other girls, finally meeting and falling for Freda. After this Olive will stop at nothing, no matter how despicable, to make sure Neil is hers forever. The consequences of her actions shock everyone and send the extended Potter and Ogilvie families into turmoil.
GIFT FROM THE GALLOWGATE
This is the extraordinary story of a remarkable woman. Doris Davidson was born in Aberdeen in 1922, the daughter of a master butcher and country lass. Her idyllic childhood was shattered in 1934 with the death of her father, after which, in order to make ends meet, her mother was forced to take in lodgers. In part due to her father’s sudden death, Doris left school at fifteen and went to work in an office, gradually rising through the ranks until she became book-keeper. Marriage to an officer in the Merchant Navy followed in 1942, then divorce, then her second marriage. Her life took the first of two major changes in direction at the age of 41, when she went back to college to study for O and A levels, followed by three years at Teacher Training College. In 1967 she became a primary school teacher, and subsequently taught in schools in Aberdeen until she retired in 1982. Not content with a quiet retirement Doris embarked on a new ‘career’ and became a writer, publishing her first work in 1990. Eight books later (and another one nearly finished), she is one of the country’s best-loved romantic novelists and has sold well in excess of 200,000 copies of her books. In this engaging and candid autobiography, Doris Davidson recounts her growing up in Aberdeen in the ‘20s and ‘30’s, the war years, her marriage and the unexpected paths her career has followed. With her novelist’s skill, she brings into vivid focus a life of rich experience in a book every bit as riveting as her works of fiction.
WATERS OF THE HEART
Young Cissie McGregor flees to Dundee with her stepmother Phoebe after her abusive, drunken father has destroyed their family. There, for a while, she finds happiness - with Bertram Dickson, son of the wealthy mill-owner who is Cissie’s and Phoebe’s employer. But, too late, she finds Bertram has not married her for love. After she bears him the son they’ve yearned for, he takes the first excuse to throw her out on the streets - keeping her beloved child. Cissie has known the worst before. She will survive and she will win through. But while she builds up her own business and fights for the return of her son, she must finally confront the consequences of those events long ago in Aberdeen when her childhood innocence was shattered...
TIME SHALL REAP
It is 1915, and Elspeth Gray is young, unmarried, heavily pregnant and destitute in a strange city. Having no one else to turn to, she throws herself on the mercy of a compassionate woman she once met briefly on a train. Helen Watson and her husband, themselves expecting a baby, gladly give the desperate girl a home. After Elspeth’s son is born, however, Helen tragically loses her own child, and in her traumatised state transposes the two births in her mind. With the neighbours also believing that little John is Helen’s baby, rather than the single girl’s, Elspeth gradually finds herself deprived of her own child. A second chance for happiness comes along for Elspeth through marriage to David, a soldier badly scarred by the war. But her children must survive the calamities of another war, and the tangle of secrets overshadowing her youth causes misunderstandings that eventually lead to disaster. Only when the full truth becomes clear can she and her family find happiness and freedom from guilt...
THE HOUSE OF LYALL
Marion Cheyne is young, poor and ambitious. Her humble village roots and poorly paid job offer few opportunities and Marion feels trapped in a dead-end existence. So when an unexpected chance to escape presents itself, Marion grabs it, ignoring the moral implications of her actions, and sets out on a new life far away in Aberdeen. Years later and the struggling servant girl Marion has been transformed into Marianne, wife of the heir to Castle Lyall, and every inch the lady of the glen. More a business arrangement than a love match, Marianne’s commitment to her role and to the name of Lyall is total, and as family, friends and world wars come and go, she will stop at nothing to protect her hard-won position. But the many secrets of her past refuse to stay safely buried. Nothing in the small community of the glen can remain hidden forever...
THE NICKUM
Willie Fowlie’s grandmother calls him a ‘nickum’ - he is a mischievous Aberdeenshire boy who often acts instinctively, bearing little or no consideration for the consequences of his actions. When he is eleven, his playful antics lead to a full-blown murder enquiry, but it is soon recognised that the hunt is based on nothing more material than Willie’s imagination. Four years later, however, Willie witnesses a real murder, but believing that his eye-witness testimony is simply another fabrication, the police wind down the investigation. It is not until five years later, during World War II, that Willie is able to prove the sincerity of his account and the murderer is apprehended. Despite his errant ways, Willie’s headmaster recognises his potential and finances his matriculation at University along with his own daughter, Millie, in late September 1939. Free from the constraints of their childhood, the blossoming of their love begins to unfold. However, within weeks of the outbreak of war, Willie’s best friend from childhood enlists in the army, but Willie feels duty-bound to his sponsor to obtain his degree. Two years later, however, in 1941, Willie is confronted with the news that his friend has been killed in action. Racked with guilt, blaming himself for not being there to protect him, Willie abandons his education and volunteers for the Gordon Highlanders. The course of his life is now completely changed, the troubled boy that he was now a distant memory, but can the ‘nickum’ ever atone for the decisions that he has made?
JAM AND JEOPARDY
89-year-old spinster, Janet Stouter, takes pleasure in raking up scandals, old and new, about her neighbours. She also relishes refusing her two nephews the money they seek to bolster their businesses. When a retired glass worker gives her some arsenic to kill the rats in her garden, she hatches a plan to test them. She tells them about the arsenic and waits for them to prove themselves worthy of inheriting when she dies. Whoever attempts to kill her will be her sole heir; if both do, of course, they will each get half share of her substantial amount of savings. She does, however, make sure that her life will be in no danger. Unfortunately, the old lady spreads word of her newly acquired poison around the village, thus laying the seeds of murderous intent in several people. She had not foreseen that several other would-be assassins will come into the frame or that one will succeed in silencing her vicious tongue forever. This is a whodunnit in the classic style of Agatha Chrisite.
Cousins at War Page 33
