But Amy did not let the matter rest. ‘Cathie bought fresh food for our meal,’ she informed Baird. ‘She has no intention of allowing us to live entirely on food from the freezer.’
Cathie gave a shaky laugh as she said, ‘I’d better go and see what’s happening to it all. Soon it’ll be ready to serve.’ She put her glass on a small side-table and left the room.
Baird followed her to the kitchen. He watched her place the coated fish in a pan of hot oil, then strain the vegetables before tipping them into warm serving dishes. ‘Most people tip that vegetable water down the sink,’ he observed, looking at the jug of fluid.
‘This will go into soup,’ she said briefly.
The parsley sauce was made in rapid time while the fish, which took little time, was turned to be cooked on the other side.
‘I can see you’ve done it before,’ he remarked drily.
‘Yes. At home I always attended to the weekend meals to give Mother a rest. She’s a very good cook, so I had to keep up the standard.’ Her hand shook slightly as she poured milk from a carton into a jug, causing some of it to spill.
‘You’re upset,’ he said, taking a cloth to dab at the white splash. ‘What’s put you into this state?’
The question was not easy to answer, but at last she said, ‘I’ve had an emotional day—or maybe you’re unaware of that trivial fact.’
‘For which I’m to blame?’ he asked smoothly.
‘You’ve certainly played your part in it,’ she snapped. ‘You blow hot one moment and cold the next—’
‘What are you talking about?’ he gritted.
She shook her head. ‘Never mind—just forget it.’
‘No, please explain yourself,’ he ordered, swinging her round to face him.
Her chin rose as she shook his hand from her arm. ‘Do I have to spell it out for you? One minute you’re holding me close, the next you’re jumping on me with both feet for the smallest of reasons.’
His jaw seemed to jut at her as he rasped, ‘You don’t know what you do to me. You frustrate me—you— you—’ He fell silent while glaring at her.
She was amazed by his outburst. ‘Frustrate you? How could I possibly do that?’
‘Can’t you guess? Do I have to spell it out to you?’
‘Yes—I’m afraid you do. At least it would help me to understand why I’m being kissed one moment and slapped the next.’
He was shocked. ‘Slapped you? I have never—’
‘I mean metaphorically, of course.’ She contemplated him as a new thought struck her. ‘Perhaps you’re a man with a desire to hurt a woman—Cathie Campbell in particular. Of course—I should have guessed.’ Her last words dripped with scorn.
He stepped closer to her. ‘You’re entirely wrong,’ he said in a low, vibrant voice while looking down into her upturned face. ‘I have no desire to hurt you, only to make love with you. That’s what frustrates me—or is it too much for a virgin like you to understand?’ His mouth twisted slightly as he uttered the last words.
She went scarlet. ‘How—how did you know?’
‘Because it’s written all over you.’
She spoke icily. ‘This conversation is at an end—apart from saying that the sooner I’m out of your house and your sight, the better it will be for everyone—especially Lola.’ She turned away from him to place serving dishes on to the trolley, then slipped the fish on to the warmed plates.
In the dining room Baird filled their glasses with white wine. He raised his own and spoke to Amy. ‘Here’s to the family unit, Amy. I know it’s something you believe in—and the day after tomorrow you’ll meet your stepson and stepdaughter-in-law for the first time. I had a call from Mother late this afternoon.’
Amy raised her glass. ‘To the family unit,’ she toasted.
Baird turned to Cathie. ‘Are you not drinking to this toast?’ he queried with a hint of surprise.
She had been staring into space, but now she lifted her glass. ‘Yes, of course I am. Gran and Amy are right. Family unity is important.’ The thought of Baird’s mother being about to descend upon them had made her quail inwardly, but suddenly she resolved to do her best to be friendly. After all, wasn’t her apprehension being caused by crossing a bridge before she’d come to it? Perhaps her fears would prove to be groundless.
Baird went on, ‘I’ll tell Lola they’re coming. You won’t mind if she runs the vacuum over your bedroom floors?’ he queried, glancing from one to the other.
‘Not at all,’ Amy said quietly, although her mouth tightened.
Cathie said nothing. The thought of Lola being in the room she was occupying annoyed her, but she felt it would be unwise to say so.
‘Lola has a father?’ Amy put the question as though searching for something to say.
Baird spoke casually. ‘Oh, yes. He has a clerical job in one of the accountancy firms. I suppose it’s time I paid them a visit. I’ll do so after dinner and assure Lola that her job continues as usual—if you’ll both excuse me.’
Cathie felt a lump of chilly disappointment settle somewhere within her chest, but she managed to smile as she said sweetly, ‘Of course we’ll excuse you. There’s sure to be something of interest on television.’ She paused thoughtfully before adding, ‘Lola will be delighted to see you. It will enable her to hammer home the main points of this afternoon’s conversation.’
Amy said, ‘Cathie’s meaning escapes me, but I’m sure her parents will be pleased to see you, Baird. I think you are doing the right thing by paying them a visit.’
‘Thank you, Amy,’ he said gravely. Then he turned to Cathie. ‘And thank you for preparing this delicious meal. I really do appreciate it because I needed it after an exhausting day. In a factory there’s always the odd hitch, either with staff or machinery, quite apart from personal irritations.’
Cathie’s sympathy went out to him at once. She longed to reach out her hand and lay it upon his own as it rested on the table, but she was unable to do so. She also realised that she herself had played a part in his personal irritations, therefore she asked, ‘How long will your parents be staying with you?’
‘For only a couple of days. Mother said there’s a meeting that my father is obliged to attend. Something to do with the city council, I think.’ His eyes held questions. ‘Why do you ask?’
She forced cheerfulness into her voice. ‘I think that with their departure your personal irritations will also—depart.’
He frowned. ‘You mean in the direction of Auckland?’
‘Either that way or towards Levin. It’ll be nice for you and Lola to have the house to yourselves again—’ She stopped abruptly, cursing her stupid unruly tongue. Now he would know she was jealous, she thought, nor did she fail to catch the warning glance sent across the table from Amy.
‘Lola doesn’t live in this house,’ he returned wearily. ‘I think I mentioned it before.’
Later, when Baird had left to visit the Maddisons, Cathie found difficulty in concentrating on the television programme. She had persuaded Amy to make a choice from the three channels available, but although she watched the screen her mind kept wandering across the lawn, through the gap in the fence and into the house next door.
Would Baird be late in coming home? she wondered while fidgeting restlessly in her chair. Had Lola been successful in coaxing him out into the moonlight—or was he sitting in a relaxed position telling her parents about Scotland?
Cathie could almost hear his deep voice giving them a word-picture of the Highlands: the purple heather on the slopes and the lochs surrounded by high hills. Was he also telling them about the Trossachs and the church at Balquhidder? That was where he had first kissed her, prodded by Amy. Her heart almost turned over at the memory of that kiss and its unexpected intensity.
Glancing at Amy, she saw that her great-aunt’s chin was nearly resting on her chest. Nor was this surprising, because the programme had deteriorated to one of violence. ‘Amy—Amy—you’re asleep,’ she said.
<
br /> Amy’s head jerked up. ‘Yes, I suppose I was dozing,’ she confessed wearily. ‘I closed my eyes because I hate that rubbish.’
‘I think you should be in bed,’ Cathie said firmly. ‘Let’s go now.’ It was stupid to imagine that Baird would be home soon, she decided.
Amy agreed by rising stiffly from her chair. The television and gas fire were turned off, and then Cathie took the older woman’s arm as they went upstairs. In the bedroom she unfastened buttons for Amy and slipped a long-sleeved fleecy-lined pink nightdress over the grey head.
‘Do you think he’ll be late in coming home?’ Amy asked, echoing the thought that had been in Cathie’s head for most of the evening.
‘I’ve no idea,’ Cathie responded, more abruptly than she intended.
Amy sent her a shrewd glance. ‘It’s quite useless to be cross about it, dear. Try and remember that so many things happen for the best, even if it doesn’t seem like it at the time.’
‘Like you suffering from arthritis?’ Cathie asked pointedly.
Amy thought for a few moments before she said, ‘It’s my arthritis that has thrown you and Baird together. Think about it.’
As Cathie left Amy’s room her attention was caught by the amount of light in the main bedroom, and, pausing at the door, she saw it was caused by the full moon throwing beams through the French window leading out to a small balcony.
She had not previously stood on this balcony, but impulse now sent her across the room to unlatch the window and step out into the crisp night air. There was no wind, and not a leaf stirred in the stillness of the moonlight-washed garden—but suddenly the silence was broken by the echo of a woman’s laugh.
Startled, she turned her head towards the Maddisons’ house and was in time to see a torchlight flickering through the trees. Did it mean that Baird was on his way home? Or did it mean that he was strolling in the moonlight with Lola? Had she enticed him outside, hoping to be taken in his arms—or had the suggestion come from him with that purpose in mind?
The questions burned to the extent of sending her to bed in tears.
CHAPTER EIGHT
CATHIE felt heavy-eyed when she woke next morning. She had no idea what time Baird had arrived home the previous evening, and she reminded herself that even if he’d stayed out all night she had not the slightest right to object. It was not her concern.
At breakfast she greeted him with a pleasant smile. ‘Good morning, Baird. Did you have an enjoyable evening?’
‘It was very amicable, thank you.’
‘I couldn’t help thinking of you,’ she admitted. ‘I felt sure you’d be telling them about Scotland. Did you do that?’
‘Yes. There’s something about that place to catch the imagination. They wanted to know when Amy would be returning.’
Cathie became busy in preparing tea, toast and a cereal for Amy’s breakfast tray. ‘Why would they be interested in Amy’s return?’ she asked casually.
‘I suppose it was because I told them that when the time came I would accompany her.’ He paused, then added in an offhand manner, ‘Lola asked if she could come too.’
The words shocked Cathie, causing her to stare at him blankly. ‘You mean to give Amy the same assistance that I gave?’
‘That’s right.’
‘So what did you say?’
‘I told her that nothing could be arranged until actual dates had been settled upon, and that they were months away.’
She began to seethe inwardly, but kept it under control. ‘So—you intend to take Lola up to Edinburgh Castle instead of me. How charming for you. Do you always make promises and then break them so easily?’ she lashed at him.
He grinned at her. ‘Aren’t you forgetting something?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Won’t you be in Auckland swanning among antiques—many of them junk, of course? I’m thinking of your job with Mrs Morgan.’
She opened her mouth to speak, but a suitable retort evaded her. To tell him why she’d be in Auckland was impossible, but at last she managed to ask, ‘What was the outcome of this brilliant idea on Lola’s part? Was anything definite actually promised?’
‘Of course not. The decision will rest with Amy.’
Cathie felt a surge of relief. ‘Oh—then in that case I’d say that Lola can forget it.’
‘I’m not so sure about that,’ he replied thoughtfully. ‘I can’t see Amy taking you away from your new job for the sake of saving herself a short period of Lola’s company. Amy is the self-sacrificing type. She’ll do what she thinks is best for you.’
Then it won’t be to throw Lola into your arms, Cathie thought, but kept it to herself. Instead she said, ‘Lola will be coming in this morning?’
‘Yes. She’ll do whatever she usually does.’
‘Like rushing madly to clean the oven?’ Cathie asked sweetly. ‘It’s a job most women hate.’
He frowned. ‘I’ve no idea. Personally I seldom use the oven.’
‘This will be a most interesting exercise to watch,’ Cathie said. ‘Especially the attention given to the toilets—the bathroom and kitchen floors—’
‘At least she’s arranging for the windows to be cleaned inside and out. The man who usually does them will also be here this morning. The house always looks much brighter when the windows are clean,’ he added cheerfully.
Cathie took Amy’s tray up to her. She felt depressed, and because she knew it would upset the older woman she made no mention of the suggestion that Lola should accompany her on the return journey to Scotland. When she came downstairs Baird had left for the factory office, but Lola was in the kitchen.
Lola’s blonde hair was tied back and she wore a lilac smock which made her look as though work was her prime objective. She sent Cathie a baleful glare as she said, ‘I trust you don’t intend telling me what to do.’
Cathie laughed. ‘I wouldn’t dream of it. Tell me, are you always so aggressive at this hour of the morning?’
‘Only when I feel I’m about to be attacked—and then I find it wiser to get in first.’ She dragged the vacuum cleaner through the kitchen door and made her way into the living room.
The window cleaner arrived a few minutes later, his van, with extension ladders attached to the roof, drawing up at the back door. ‘Good morning, miss,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I believe it’s inside and outside this time. OK—I know my way around this place.’
Cathie left him to it and went to help Amy get dressed. At mid-morning she made coffee and also carried a steaming mug to where the window cleaner was working.
He came down the ladder and accepted it gratefully, and after taking a sip he said, ‘Would you mind telling Miss Maddison I’ll be making a start on the inside of the upstairs windows in about fifteen minutes? I think she’s in one of the upper rooms.’
Cathie made her way upstairs to deliver the message, and also to ask Lola if she’d like coffee. She walked along the passage towards the sound of the vacuum, which was coming from her own room, and as she went through the door she was brought to an abrupt halt. Lola, with her back to the door, had the wardrobe door wide open while she examined the clothes hanging from the rail.
Cathie made no move, but just stood watching in silence as Lola took her emerald suit from the rail then closed the wardrobe door to survey herself in its long mirror while holding the suit against her. But in doing so she also saw the reflection of Cathie standing behind her. Lola’s face went scarlet and she almost dropped the garment while hastily returning it to the rail.
‘Have you some special reason for prying among my clothes?’ Cathie demanded coldly.
Lola recovered herself quickly. ‘I was about to vacuum the floor of the wardrobe,’ she said defiantly. ‘Actually, I was rather surprised to see that your clothes are quite—old-fashioned.’
Cathie sent her a broad smile. ‘Baird likes them,’ was all she said.
Lola became impatient. ‘So what have you come up here for?’
‘
Actually, to ask if you’d like coffee.’
‘Good grief, I haven’t time to waste by drinking coffee. I’ve far too much to do.’
‘Of course—extra things like poking into wardrobes,’ Cathie said scathingly. ‘Baird will be interested when I tell him.’
‘He won’t believe you,’ Lola asserted with confidence. ‘I’ll tell him you left clothes lying around on the floor and that I had to hang them up before I could vacuum. It’ll be your word against mine—and you know whom he believed the last time you tried to blacken me in his eyes,’ she added with a hint of triumph.
‘You mean when you were shoplifting?’ Cathie asked sweetly.
‘I was not shoplifting,’ Lola hissed furiously. ‘Don’t you dare to say so. If you do I’ll—I’ll sue you for defamation.’
‘That doesn’t change my opinion concerning the matter,’ Cathie said as she turned to go, then she paused to add, ‘By the way, the window cleaner said he’d be up here within a short time.’
She was still bubbling with anger as she went downstairs, but decided to say nothing to Amy about Lola’s prying into the wardrobe. Amy might mention the matter to Baird, who would be sure to look upon it as more fault-finding by herself.
However, it was the letter from Mrs Morgan that eventually had a soothing effect upon her ruffled spirits. It arrived by the morning post, and, if Cathie had had any doubts of her former employer’s appreciation of her capabilities, those doubts were now quickly dispelled. Nor was there any question about Mrs Morgan’s anxiety to have her back in her employ. She handed the letter to Amy.
‘Well, that’s praise indeed!’ Amy said after she had read it. ‘Fortunately she doesn’t need you until after the stepdaughter’s wedding, therefore there’s no need to be in a hurry to commit yourself.’ She folded the letter, passed it back to Cathie, then dismissed the subject by saying, ‘Now suppose we go out into the garden and find flowers for the house.’
Lola reached the bottom of the stairs in time to hear Amy’s suggestion. ‘I usually do the flowers,’ she declared imperiously. ‘When Baird entertains he always expects me to—’
Heir to Glengyle Page 13
