by Anne Hampson
'Yes ... but I'm not a baby. Big girls are nursed sometimes, aren't they?'
'Big girls of five and a half, yes, of course they are,' said Andrew, giving his attention at last to his small and lovely daughter.
She sat on his knee, swinging her legs, one arm around his neck. Robbie stood there, glancing at her now and then from under his small brows, his mouth tight and his fingers tapping the arm of Gail's chair. Understandingly she put an arm around his waist, drawing him close to her. This much he did not mind, obviously, because his face brightened and his dark curly head rested against Gail's breast.
Andrew had noticed Gail's action and although his eyes were soft and his mouth relaxed a frown settled on his brow. Gail looked at him, feeling he was recalling his anger at her allowing Shena to go out when she had a cold, and that he was actually chiding himself for being unjust. His anger had not only lasted, she recalled with a little pang, it had increased as the days went by and Shena's condition worsened. But as she improved so his anger died and his way with Gail became less rigid and accusing. She had not yet asked him how far her authority went, and as time passed she found greater difficulty in broaching the subject. Phrasing was not easy with such a delicate subject, for the last impression Gail wanted to give was that of possessiveness.
The children were not hers; Gail accepted this just as she accepted the right of their grandmother to see them as often as she wished, and to ask Andrew if it were her right to withhold her permission for this seemed all wrong. Some day, she thought, a suitable occasion might arise when the subject could be broached; until then she could only hope she would not be faced with such a problem again. Robbie stirred against her and she smiled at him. Shena's dark head was resting comfortably under her father's chin and Robbie snuggled closer. It was an intimate, homely scene ... with only one link of love missing, mused Gail in an abstracted way. She and Andrew loved the children; the children loved them, and they also loved one another
'Do you want tea now?' she asked Andrew. He was not often with them at this time of day, but since Shena's illness he had been taking Robbie to school in the morning and bringing them home in the afternoon. So he took tea with them, it having been laid in Shena's room until today.
'When you're ready,' returned Andrew obligingly. 'I'm not particularly hungry, but I expect Robbie is.' He leant away from Shena. 'What about you?'
'I'm hungry. I want sandwiches and scones and jam and biscuits.'
'Then I'd better see to it. We can't have our invalid feeling hungry.'
'Will Morag be sorry I've been poorly?' asked Shena as they were having tea half an hour later, and it struck Gail, as it had on so many occasions, how distant the older girl was from the other two. She rarely mentioned them and they rarely mentioned her. Morag never took them out, never bought them a book or other present. She could have derived such pleasure from them, and they from her- had she not been so utterly lacking in patience and understanding. 'I don't expect so,' replied Andrew, his eyes suddenly glinting at the mention of the girl. So peaceful it had been, these past days since Morag's departure, and to Gail's knowledge Andrew had never so much as tried to discover where the girl was. Probably he knew from bitter experience that he would only be wasting his time.
Morag came and went as she liked, accounting to no one, obeying no rules. Often Gail tried to think of an effective way of dealing with such a person, and soon realized that if an effective way had existed Andrew would never have accepted failure. Strong as he was, with that wild Highland temper, and lawlessness and murder in his blood, he could not control that willful girl.
In the past, yes-she would soon have been brought to heel, would no doubt have cried out for mercy before being ruthlessly dealt with, but these days violence was not permitted. And it seemed to Gail, distasteful though the idea might be, that violence was the only method of subduing a girl like Morag. What was to become of her? Would she marry, and make some poor man's life a misery?-or would she remain single, and give her father no peace for the rest of his days?
'Where is Morag, Daddy?' Robbie was stuffing too much in his mouth. The merest frown from his father caused him to put the rest of the sandwich down on his plate.
'Away on holiday.' His eyes flickered go Gail, and moved instantly away again. Gail changed the subject. 'What have you been doing at school today, Robbie?'
'Sums and writing, and drawing and nature. We were learning about foxes and I said they were taking our lambs and Miss Spencer let me tell the class all about it. I liked doing that; I'm going to be a school-teacher when I grow up.'
'So you can tell the children about foxes, eh?' Andrew buttered a scone for Shena and put it on her plate. 'You want some jam, you said?' He held the pot in his hand and made to spoon some out. 'Yes, but I don't like that kind.'
'What kind, do you like?' 'Red jam-that's black.'
'I keep trying to get her to eat blackcurrant,' Gail admitted ruefully. 'However, I'll fetch the strawberry.' 'Don't get up,' he said, frowning slightly. 'Ring the bell.' This thought for her was something entirely new, and Gail felt a tinge of pleasure at his unexpected consideration.
'Has Meredith shot the foxes?' Robbie asked as Gail rang the bell. Meredith was the estate stalker and he had been out several nights running making his rounds of the known dens. Last night Andrew had been out with him, and a stalker from another estate too. The den was in a cairn, and the cubs had been accounted for by the terriers. But the parents had been away and the three men posted themselves around the cairn, waiting for their return. Darkness fell, but the men remained close to the cairn, for sooner or later the dog and vixen must return. In the crannies round the den the men dozed, but were repeatedly jerked into wakefulness by the scalp-prickling cry of the vixen calling to her unresponding young. She had known humans were about and kept her distance, but with the first light of dawn her maternal instinct brought her to the cairn-to fall victim to an instant-killing shot from Andrew's gun. The dog had escaped, too wary to return to the den. His turn would come another time. The men had been out again today on another hunt. This time the vixen was in the cairn. She had been bolted by the terriers and shot, while again the plucky little dogs scoured the labyrinthine, airless darkness to dispatch the cubs. One of the terriers had been trapped, and the great stones of the cairn had had to be removed one by one in order to free him. He came out as cheerful and dauntless as ever, even though his coat was matted with peat and filth.
'Some of them, Robbie,' Andrew was saying. 'We shan't be losing so many lambs now.'
'Is it only in litter time that they attack the sheep?'
Gail wanted to know.
'Usually. A fox on its own can live on rabbits and voles during the summer, and of course there is carrion in winter.' Sick and aged deer; provided this carrion, and other animals which also had succumbed to the harsh and merciless winter of the Highlands.
Gail had thought she would never get used to this killing, but she was surprised now at her own admission that it was necessary. Those cuddly little cubs were undoubtedly attractive, but unfortunately they grew up, and attacking a litter was the only way to keep the numbers down. One vixen, shot soon after Gail's arrival, was carrying no less than ten unborn cubs.
'You're getting used to our way of life,' Andrew commented as if reading her thoughts. She nodded.
'Yes, I'm getting used to it.'
'Will you learn to shoot?' asked Robbie eagerly, and this time Gail shook her head vigorously.
'No, Robbie,' she replied with emphasis. 'I will not learn to shoot.'
CHAPTER FIVE
MORAG had not returned at the end of a fortnight, and Andrew's face was becoming anxious and drawn. Suspecting he had been making tentative inquiries Gail felt deeply for him, understanding that his position necessitated the avoidance of any move which might result in unsavoury publicity. His face also portrayed a tiredness due to his sitting or lying around in the cold and mist of a Highland gloaming, or the icy dampness of boggy earth
at dawn. For the annual fox den attacking which always took place at cubbing time must be relentlessly continued if the inevitable lamb losses were to be kept down to a minimum. As the days went by and Morag was still absent his mounting anxiety alternated with a moroseness manifested in an attitude of almost complete indifference to his wife. She might not be there at all, and Gail would often experience that strange little void within her, a void which was now more in the nature of a loss than the vague reaching out to grasp vainly at some un-known thing far beyond her reach.
On Shena's first morning back at school he came in as Gail and the two children were having their break-fast, his eyes rimmed with tiredness, his overalls caked with mud, and particles of damp earth adhering to his hair. 'Will you do me a favour?' he asked, looking down at her from his great height. She nodded and he went on. 'I have a list here of what Johnson needs for the fencing-bolts and screws and clips and things-and I wondered if, when you've dropped Shena and Robbie off at school, you'll go on to Perth and get them for met'
'Yes, of course.'
He then went on to tell her where the shop was, adding, 'Use your own money and I'll settle up with you later. You have plenty?' and without giving her the chance to reply, 'Of course you have. I remember your saying you save most of your allowance. I'm going up now to get a bath and some sleep,' and before Gail could say what she wanted to say he had left the room. Use your own money.... She rose with the intention of going after him, seeking desperately for words to explain why she was short of money, but Shena chose that moment to poke a spoon into her glass of milk, with the result that the glass toppled over. 'Clumsy,' chuckled Robbie. 'Now your nice clean dress is all wet!' Gail glanced at the closed door, then at the clock, and gave a deep sigh. There was nothing for it but to change Shena's dress right away, and as this made them late Gail decided to take the children to school and, then come back for the money. But on arrival she discovered to her dismay that Andrew was already in bed.
'Didn't he have his breakfast?' she inquired Of Mrs. Birchan, the housekeeper:
'Not a bite,' the woman replied disgustedly. 'A good bowl of porridge would have put some warmth into him after being out all night. But there you are-men arc so stubborn you never can get anywhere with them!' Listening by the dividing door a few minutes later Gail could not hear a sound, and on knocking on the outer door she received no response. Silently turning the handle, she opened the door and peeped into the room. The curtains were drawn together; Andrew was fast asleep in bed, his hair, newly-washed and still wet, appearing darker than ever against the snowy whiteness of the pillow. She bit her lip. To waken him was unthinkable, yet she must have the money to get the joiner's requirements. These were urgent because the roe deer had already found the plantation and shots were having to be fired into the air in order to scare them away.
Gail felt she could have choked Morag. Andrew stirred in his sleep; reluctantly and dejectedly Gail went forward into the room and stood by the bed. 'Andrew,' she whispered. No response, and she repeated his name in her normal voice. On opening his eyes he frowned uncomprehendingly for a space and then jerked himself into a sitting position. 'What's wrong?' he demanded sharply and she knew his thoughts were on Morag.
'Nothing serious,' she hastened to assure him.
'Then what do you want?' Anger and impatience edged his voice, and although she was strangely hurt Gail could understand how he felt, being woken like this from his well-earned sleep. 'Those things you asked me to get-I haven't enough money....' She tailed off at his look of surprise.
'They'll only come to about ten or twelve pounds.'
'I haven't that much.' What must he think? she wondered miserably, his having remarked less than an hour ago on her having told him she saved most of her allowance.
'I see.' His voice was clipped. He did not see at all, his glance clearly said. In fact she felt sure he did not believe her and she added swiftly,
'I wouldn't have wakened you, Andrew, had I the money.'
'Very well.' He waved her out of the room as he spoke. 'I'll get it from the safe.' Anger and unhappiness possessed her as she drove down to Perth. If Andrew didn't believe her then he must be thinking she had refused to lend him the money in case it was not refunded; if he did believe her then he must be wondering how she had spent it as, apart from picking up the children, she scarcely ever went out. A rift resulted from the incident; Andrew's coolness and indifference increased, and often intruding into Gail's mind was her sister's firm assertion that he did not like women.
She felt she hated Morag, and indeed when she did eventually arrive home, her new deep tan telling its own story, Gail instantly tackled her and, the fleeting blush being all she needed, she tore into the girl, revealing her temper for the first time since coming to Dunlochrie. Taken by surprise, Morag was speechless for a while, but on making a recovery she flatly denied having stolen the money. 'I don't believe you! Nothing you can say will convince me you didn't take the money! Where have you been all this time, anyway?'
'To the sun! Are you jealous?' Gail raked her with disdain. 'Your father's been out of his mind with worry-'
'Rubbish! He doesn't care where I go or what I do. He's glad to get me out of the house.'
'One could scarcely blame him for that, if it were true. But it isn't true. You're only fifteen and still under his care and authority. If you had any feelings for him you'd try to behave.'
'Well, I haven't any feelings for him, never have had. I've no feelings for anyone. It's better that way because you can't ever get hurt. Mother never had any feelings for anyone, and so her life was happy.'
'There's no happiness without love, Morag,' said Gail, more quietly now. 'For your father's sake, why don't you try?' Morag sighed exasperatedly. 'Your preachings! Don't you ever stop to think what a ridiculous figure you make, standing there, with that pious air of superiority? Why don't you give up? You're not here to convert me, but to make sure those two sweet little idols don't follow my degenerate and downhill path.' She laughed and actually made to flick Gail's cheek with her finger, but Gail stepped back, utter dislike in her eyes. 'Have you told Father I took the money?' asked Morag curiously after a pause.
'Your father has quite enough to worry him!'
'Oh, yes.... Your concern,' mocked Morag, staring at Gail with assumed pity. 'The wife, shielding her poor harassed husband from knowledge of his daughter's wanton ways.' She cocked a commiserating glance at Gail. 'And he doesn't even notice his lovelorn wife-or has there been a change since I went away?' A change for the worse, brought on by your dishonesty, Gail could have said, but pride prevented her. 'I shall expect the return of every penny you stole,' she began, but was cut short with a derisive laugh. 'Some hope! I've said I didn't take it-and I stick to that. One of the servants must have robbed you-if you've been robbed!'
'You're utterly shameless!' Unconcernedly taking a packet of cigarettes from her handbag, Morag flipped it open.
'That's what Father says, so you obviously agree on one thing.' Lighting a cigarette, Morag blew the smoke across the room towards Gail, as she had done once before.
Almost suffocated with disgust, Gail turned to the door. 'You're a disgrace to your sex!' she exclaimed, and left her. Another quarrel took place between father and daughter on Andrew's return to the house at teatime. Although present when it began-Andrew being either forgetful of her presence or deliberately ignoring it- Gail soon made her departure. But whatever had happened this time Morag was surprisingly reduced to tears. However, the conflict was also taking its toll where Andrew himself was concerned. His harshness was terrible to see-and invariably it was Gail who came in for the brunt of it.
She seemed to be blamed for everything that went wrong; if one of the children happened to be naughty she was icily censured, as she also was when, on taking in a parcel from the postman' one day, she forgot to give it to her husband immediately he came in. He snapped at her for running out of petrol on her way to bring the children from school one day, an
d again when she allowed them to stay up a little later than usual. Gail bore it all patiently, excusing his conduct be-cause of the trouble Morag was giving him. Nevertheless, she was only human and resentment began to mount. This was to reach a climax one day when, she and Andrew having been invited to a ball at the Castle, he said, with what she supposed was intended tact,
'It's a formal affair and the ladies usually wear sleeveless gowns on such occasions. Have you one? I ask this because I notice you favour dresses with sleeves.' 'They're only short sleeves.' She had gone a trifle pale. The scar on her shoulder was not a pretty sight. 'I prefer a small sleeve,' she added, never dreaming at this stage that he would carry the matter further.
'It will please me if you wear the correct dress for the occasion,' he said in tones as quiet as her own but decidedly inflexible. She shook her head. 'I can't-I'm uncomfortable-'
'Nonsense! If you haven't one I'll give you the money and you can go into town and get one.'
Again she shook her head. 'I can't,' she repeated desperately. 'Surely I'm allowed to wear what I like?' Was he considering her to be obstinate? she wondered, loath to give him a reason for this argument on her part. He never tolerated anything inferior.... Morag's words came back and Gail added with sudden firmness, 'I must wear what I like, Andrew-what I feel most comfortable in.'
'You'll observe my wishes,' he snapped, and left her, returning a few minutes later with an open cheque in his hand. 'Get what you want, but make sure it's sleeveless,' he added darkly, and placed the cheque on the table.
Of course she pleased herself and wore a dress with short sleeves, but as she had on a wrap he did not learn of Gail's disregard of his wishes until they arrived at the ball. She came down from the magnificent powder room to meet his smouldering and astounded gaze. All the other women were in sleeveless gowns, many with the narrowest of shoulder-straps; Gail naturally felt different, but this was preferable to revealing her unsightly disfigurement. 'How dare you disobey me?' he hissed when presently he managed to speak without being overheard. 'How dare you!' It was the first time the real barb of his temper had been directed at her and Gail's face went white.
