by Anne Hampson
'And what is that to do with you? When I'm away I drive my friends' cars all the time. Get out, and look to the children. That's what you're here for!'
She drove her friends' cars.... They, it would appear, were as stupid as Morag. 'Did you not consider the consequences of discovery? The police round here must know you're under age.' Morag's teeth snapped together. 'Go away, for pity's sake! You bore me to distraction with your law-abiding piety. Why should you care about the consequences? You've no concern for me.'
'My concern at present happens to be for your father.'
'It does?' Morag's eyes opened wide. 'How very interesting. Have you fallen for him by any chance? Women do-' She threw back her head and laughed. 'But how priceless! Unrequited love! Wait till I tell the crowd-oh, this will provide some laughs for us!'
Gail went white, but this time it was with temper. Only now did she fully appreciate her husband's feelings when he had struck the girl.
'Are you quite shameless! Don't you care anything about your father's humiliation when you're prosecuted?-which you are bound to be some time if, as you say, you're driving cars without a licence.'
'Stop preaching!' Morag's face was crimson with anger and hate. 'Get out of my room!'
Gail went, there being nothing else she could do, but she meant to inform Andrew of what had occurred. She would have an opportunity this evening, when they were alone after dinner. Tale-carrying was loathsome to her, but Andrew must be warned.
Morag was never late for dinner; this was one thing in which she was forced to obey her father. Were she only a minute late he would order her place to be cleared and should she desire to eat she did so in another room.
Her place was cleared that evening, and for some reason Gail was uneasy. 'Is Morag in?' she blurted out at last. 'In? I expect so. What makes you ask?'
Andrew glanced across at Gail, frowning at her expression.
'I'm not sure why I asked, but-but I feel she might have gone out.' She put down her knife and fork with a nervous movement. Was Morag out in the car again?-and in the dark? Suppose she knocked someone down...? 'Andrew ... she took the car out this afternoon, to do her shopping-'
'Took the car?' he interrupted sharply. 'Are you sure?'
'I didn't like to interfere, because I know her actions have nothing to do with me, but I saw her drive on to the forecourt and tackled her about taking the car on to the public road.'
An awful silence fell on the room; Andrew's face was like thunder. Morag had not been pulled up, Gail hastened to tell him, but his features retained their lines of dark fury. He rose from his chair and left the room. Gail bit her lip, feeling guilty and wondering if there was a better way in which she could have hand-led the situation. If only Morag would listen to reason; if only she were not so defiant, and determinedly aggressive. When Andrew returned his anger had subsided somewhat, but his face was harsh and his eyes were dark and brooding.
'She's gone to stay with friends,' he informed Gail. 'She left a note on the hall table. She got one of the men to drive her to the station.'
'So she hasn't taken the car?' Gail breathed a sigh of relief, but she was puzzled too and she added, 'She didn't say anything to me about visiting friends.'
'She's gone for a fortnight-so she says in her note.' This was the first time Andrew had discussed Morag with her since the day he admitted she was lost to him. He sat down but made no attempt to touch his food. 'You say she went shopping? What did she buy?'
'A dress, but I don't know what else:'
'She told me she had no money.' He became thoughtfully silent for a space and then, 'You didn't lend her any?' he asked in threatening tones, and Gail shook her head. But she felt a prickling sensation in the region of her spine. Why should she be recalling Morag's insolent questions regarding her allowance...? 'I save,' Gail had said.
Her money was kept in a small trinket box on the dressing-table; it was unlocked because Gail had never yet had an experience which led to distrust. She had lived with her parents, and then her sister, and here at Dunlochrie House she knew the servants were trust-worthy, otherwise they would not be employed by Andrew. As soon as dinner was over she ran upstairs and opened the box. Empty. Two hundred pounds had been in the box-the whole of this month's allowance, given her by Andrew, and savings from her previous allowances.
'What weather! I'd go abroad if only I had some money.' Morag's words hammered at Gail's brain. Had Morag gone abroad ... with a boyfriend, as she had done once before, unashamedly stealing money for that purpose? What should she do? Trembling, Gail stood there, staring at the empty box, confused and uncertain, and blaming herself for leaving her money about -putting temptation in Morag's way. But she did not remain undecided for long. If Morag had gone abroad nothing could be done about it at this stage, for both her present whereabouts and her destination were unknown. And there was nothing to be gained by informing Andrew of the theft and subjecting him to further humiliation-a humiliation that would be far greater than any before, Morag having robbed his wife. No, saving her husband's pride was far more important than the loss of her money.
As was to be expected the rest of the evening was ruined, dragging slowly through the brooding silence into which Andrew had fallen. Twice Gail tried to open up a conversation; she was answered in mono-syllables harshly and impatiently uttered. Yet as the days passed the customary lightness enveloped the whole household; everyone, including Andrew, seemed to be different with Morag out of the way and Gail could have wished her grown up and married were she not heartily sorry for the man who would eventually become Morag's husband.
On the Wednesday the children were off school, it being a holiday, but as they both had slight colds Gail did not take them out, for although the weather was dry, the air was crisp and chill, with a mist topping the mountains and the ground underfoot damp after the recent rains. Mrs. Davis called just after lunch; having heard of the holiday she wished to take Robbie and Shena to her home. She would bring them back after tea, she said. 'I didn't want them to go out,' Gail began, wondering how high her authority stood on an occasion like this. 'They both have colds and I'm keeping them warm.' She and the children were sitting cosily by the fire, playing a card game, and there was no mistaking the disappointment on their faces at the suggestion of their going out with their grandmother. Mrs. Davis stared arrogantly down at her, still in her outdoor things, having refused Gail's offer of taking her coat. 'They'll be quite all right in the car,' she snapped.
'Come, Robbie and Shena, go and fetch your coats.' Gail bit her lip; both children were looking questioningly at her, their mouths drooping.
'It's very cold, Mrs. Davis.'
'I'm taking my daughter's children out! Kindly get them ready!'
'I don't want to go,' said Robbie with unaccustomed
Grossness. 'We're playing games with Mummy.'
'I don't want to go either.' Shena sat back more comfortably in her chair, examining the cards in her hand. The older woman's face reddened. 'Such ill manners! I must see Andrew about this. Obviously you're not doing what you're paid to do!'
'Paid, Mrs. Davis?' Gail's brows lifted in a gesture of arrogance equal to that of the woman standing above her. 'That's an odd expression to use to a wife.' Black fury settled on Mrs. Davis's thin and painted face.
'It will not pay you to be insolent with me,' she snapped. 'You might be Andrew's wife, but as he married you for the specific purpose of looking after my daughter's children, you're no more than a paid servant.' Gail said nothing; her anger died, destroyed by the hurtful knowledge that what this woman said was true. She and Morag had been discussing her, that was for sure, Mrs. Davis's words being similar to those already used by her granddaughter on more than one occasion.
'Kindly get them ready,' the woman ordered, but turned to Shena. 'Do as you're told and get your coat. Robbie, you tool You're both coming out with me.' Shena started to cry, and began to cough. If only Andrew were about, thought Gail distractedly, then his would be the
decision. But he was away across the fields, clad in overalls, assisting his joiner with the posts required for the fencing off of a new plantation of fir trees. They had grown to the stage when the roe deer would eat them, and fencing was very necessary both for the protection of the saplings and of the deer, for were they to get into the plantation the deer would have to be shot, and most farmers were loath to kill these dainty Bambi-like creatures unnecessarily. As she sat there in a state of uncertainty Gail uttered a little sigh:
This was one of those occasions when it was starkly brought home to her that she was indeed neither wife nor mother. Had she been a wife her husband's support for all her actions would have been assured; were she a mother her authority regarding the children would have been paramount. 'If you must take them then I really can't prevent you,' she admitted reluctantly, avoiding Robbie's eyes. 'But please keep them warm. Andrew wouldn't be very pleased were they to be ill.'
A short while later they were in the car, Robbie sulky and silent and Shena still showing evidence of her recent tears. Gail stood watching the car disappearing down the drive, waving to Robbie who was kneeling on the back seat, staring out of the window.
Andrew came back at tea time, driving the Land-Rover. He inquired after the children and Gail told him where they had gone, adding rather haltingly, 'It was cold, and I didn't want them to go out '
'Their grandmother naturally wants to see them,' he interrupted before she could mention their colds. 'She has my permission to take them out on occasions. It's some time since their grandfather saw them; he's bed-ridden-I don't think I've mentioned that. He's a lonely man, and loves Robbie and Shena. It does him good to see them.'
Gail felt better after that. It was only right for the children to visit their grandfather. She fell to thinking about this unknown man whom Andrew said was lonely. How did he fare with a wife like Mrs. Davis? Gail had always imagined her to be a widow, as her husband had never been mentioned either by Andrew or any of the three children.
Immediately they returned Gail saw that Shena was ill. Her big blue eyes were bright and watering, her cheeks flushed and her nose running. Gail took out a handkerchief and wiped it, at the same time feeling the child's forehead. It was burning.
'You're right about their colds,' said Mrs. Davis, but lacking any graciousness of manner. 'Shena is making much more of hers than is necessary, but then she's become even more spoiled than ever lately. Put her to bed, she'll be all right in the morning. There's no need to call the doctor.'
But both Andrew and Gail thought otherwise, and it was soon established that Shena had influenza, and a severe chill on her stomach as well. 'She must have been ill before she went out.' Andrew stood on one side of the child's bed and Gail on the other, the doctor having only just left.'
'I knew she had a cold-'
'Then you should have kept her in,' he snapped in angry surprise. 'Would you have sent her to school?'
'I don't think so-but I didn't have to make the decision,' she hurriedly pointed out, 'because they had this holiday. Her cold was not really noticeable until after lunch-'
'And yet you let her go out?' The sharp keen edge to his tone left her speechless for a moment. Had he for-gotten voicing his approval of their going out with . their grandmother?
'I did say,' she managed at last, 'that I didn't want them to go with Mrs. Davis, but you said it was all right.' 'You didn't tell me Shena was ill-in any case, you'd already let them go.' Shena gave a little moan and he bent down, over the bed, placing a cool hand on her damp forehead. 'I absolutely fail to understand how you could have been so unobservant as not to realize just how ill she was. She should have been in bed hours ago!' The blame and censure in his voice and the injustice of his words brought the quick tears pressing against the back of Gail's eyes. Her life was difficult enough without her husband adding his contribution.
'I was keeping them warm,' she was forced to say in her own defence. 'They were by the fire all day until Mrs. Davis came and said she wanted to take them to her home for tea. Had she not taken them I'm sure I'd have put Shena to bed quite early in the afternoon.' Shena was whimpering and as Andrew had moved away Gail sat down on the bed, replacing the covers which the restless child was in the process of throwing off. 'Why didn't you tell Mrs. Davis that Shena had a cold?' His blue eyes fixed her angrily. 'I can't understand your carelessness!'
'I'm afraid,' returned Gail with sudden indignation, 'that Mrs. Davis was insistent.'
'She couldn't have insisted had you raised a strong enough objection- Gail made to interrupt, but an imperious wave of his hand cut her short even before the first word was out. 'The children are in your charge and I expect you to use your judgement where their welfare is concerned.'
Gail was tempted to ascertain here and now just how far her authority went, but Shena was tossing and turning and still fretfully whimpering. It was not the time for questions of that nature; besides, Andrew was not in the right mood, his gaze being one of angry accusation not unmingled with puzzlement, and it struck Gail that he might almost be thinking she had wanted to be rid of the children, for an hour or two. He should have known better than that, though. Surely he could see she was happiest when Robbie and Shena were with her. For several days Shena was very poorly, but care and warmth and the love Gail bestowed on her at last had their effect and not only did the child begin to improve physically, but she also drew very close to Gail during the second half of the period she remained in bed. This was just over a week and on the day she was to get up Andrew was there to carry her down to the snug where a huge log fire burned despite the adequacy of the central heating.
'There, how's that?' Gently he laid her down on the couch, against the pillows Gail had placed there. 'Warm?'
'Lovely and warm, Daddy, thank you.' Her smile, though, was for both of them as her beautiful eyes moved from him to Gail. No reserve now or cautious withdrawal; Shena had been completely won over during her illness and Gail sent up a little prayer of thankfulness as she sat with her, telling her stories and bringing her drinks and finally easing her down and drawing the curtains together when at last Shena wanted to go to sleep. Andrew went for Robbie, whose cold had kept him off school only a couple of days, a circumstance that gave him scant satisfaction. Aware of all the attention being lavished on his sister, he was clearly disgusted at his own healthy resistance and considered himself in some way cheated.
'I'm not well at all,' he had declared when Gail pronounced him fit for school. 'It's my tummy. I think I've got gout. My great-grandfather had gout.'
'You usually have gout in your feet,' laughed Gail, fixing his scarf and buttoning his coat up to it. 'Never in your stomach, Robbie, so you'll have to think of something else.'
He had thought of something else-several things in fact, but as the mention of these merely brought laughter to Gail's or Andrew's lips Robbie finally took umbrage and gave up the fight. But he did warn them darkly that should he die through their neglect they would be sorry for the rest of their lives.
During her tender care for Shena Andrew seemed to be seeing Gail for the first time as she really was, watching her at times with an altogether new expression that brought the colour to her cheeks, and a strange yearning to her heart. Involuntarily then she would put up a hand to feel the scar through her hair and wish that she had gone into hospital when her doctor suggested it, and had the scar removed. It was not too late, of course, but Gail could not now leave the children.
Besides, she did not want her husband to know the scar had ever been there. The reason for this eluded her ... or perhaps it was that she did not desire too close a probe into her feelings....
Robbie came bounding into the snug and Gail instantly put a finger to her lips.
'Hush,' she whispered. 'Shena's asleep.'
'She's up, though.' Robbie came close and whispered in her ear. 'Is she going to school tomorrow?'
Gail shook her head, smiling in amusement and glancing towards the door as Andrew entered th
e darkened room.
'Not for at least a week.' Robbie pouted.
'It's not fair! She must be better if she's up.'
'I'm not really up,' protested Shena, awakened by the whispering and movements in the room. 'I'm only half up, aren't I, Mummy?'
'Yes, darling, you're only half up.'
'How's my baby?' Andrew came close, his face tanned and glowing with health from the outdoor life he led; his mouth was softened by the flickering firelight, his thick dark hair a little tousled by the frolics of the west wind, howling now around the house and swaying the graceful conifers as it swept away over the wild and heathered grouse moors. He bent over his young daughter; she sat up and flung her arms around his neck. He received a loud kiss on the cheek. 'I'm not a baby,' she said then, and her father promptly retorted,
'In that case you won't want to be nursed.'
'Were you going to nurse me?' she asked, her face falling.
'I was indeed-right here on my knee.' He sat down by the fire, his eyes still on her. 'Whom shall I nurse instead-Robbie?'
'No-nurse Mummy!' It was Robbie who spoke. A man like me being nursed! his indignant glance seemed to be saying. Silence followed his words. Andrew's eyes on her, half-searching, half-amused, brought the blood rushing to Gail's face. She did not know how adorable she looked in the firelight glow, that her delicate features were enchantingly brought into relief, even though shadowed faintly by the long sweep of silken lashes lowered to hide the dreamy, half-yearning expression in her beautiful brown eyes. 'Mummies don't be nursed,' said Shena on a scoffing note. 'They're too big!'
'Our mummy isn't too big-because she's a lot smaller than Daddy. She only comes up to his shoulders!' Discomfort overwhelming her, Gail rose hastily and drew back the curtains, letting in the light. Andrew's eyes were still upon her as she came back to her chair-on her face and then her neck and fleetingly on the slender curves of her body. 'Are you going to let Daddy nurse you?' she asked Shena, a sudden vision of her scarred body coming into her mind. Stooping, she picked up the soft lambs-wool dressing-gown and held it open, her glance questioning, and encouraging.
