by Anne Douglas
As they took seats in the cocktail bar, she glanced round at the clientele and, at the sight of the women’s outfits, looked so glum that Jamie at once asked her what was wrong. Didn’t she like the Adelphi?
‘It’s too grand, Jamie. I’m not wearing the right clothes.’
‘You look perfect. Always do.’
‘But why did you choose it?’
‘Simple. It’s not the sort of place we’re likely to meet anyone from Tarrel’s.’
She raised her eyebrows. ‘You were already thinking we shouldn’t be seen together?’
‘No, I just want privacy. To be with you.’ He touched her hand. ‘But let’s forget Tarrel’s. What would you like to drink?’
‘I don’t know – I don’t drink much.’
‘How about a gin with tonic you can add yourself? Then you can put in as much tonic as you like? I’ll have the same.’
When their drinks came they each sipped a little, then nibbled the salted nuts provided, and were silent.
‘Hey, we’re supposed to be talking,’ Jamie murmured. ‘Why are we sitting dumb?’
‘I feel sort of shy,’ Roz confessed.
‘Shy of me? Come on, no one’s ever shy with me. If there’s one talent I have, it’s being able to talk and to get others talking too. So, come on, Roz, tell me about yourself.’
‘You know it all already. I’ve told you about my dad, and my folks. There’s not a lot to add.’
‘I think there’s something.’ His look was steady, his hand placed for a moment over hers, dry and firm. ‘Something you didn’t tell me, isn’t there?’
She sighed and sipped her drink. ‘I suppose there is. It’s about – well – my mother.’
The next moment, she was telling him about Flo: how she’d been hit so hard by Arthur’s death that she’d sunk into a depression which was still with her, on and off, and was something her family had to watch out for and try to bring her through. Swiftly, easily, the words flowed, and Roz knew she was talking to him as she’d never really talked to an outsider before, and that she felt the better for it. He’d been quite right about himself, hadn’t he? He could get people talking, without a doubt.
‘Thank you,’ he said softly. ‘Thank you for telling me about your life, Roz. I hope it wasn’t hard for you?’
‘No, it was helpful. I’ve never talked about poor Ma before – I mean, to someone who wasn’t family.’
‘It seems to me that you’ve all been very brave, having to face complex problems, and all so young.’
‘I suppose we got used to it. Though you never know when the moods will come – that’s the difficult part. Poor Dougal, my brother, caused a lot of trouble when he wanted to join the army, but in the end Ma accepted it, which was a big relief.’
‘And you, Roz, you’re all right? I mean, you’re happy with what you’re doing at Tarrel’s?’
She topped up her drink with tonic again. ‘I’m happy, yes, because I love working with property and I admire Tarrel’s, but – well, I’ll have to admit, I do feel a bit resentful that it’s not likely I’ll ever run the department.’
‘You easily could.’ Jamie drained his glass. ‘But you’re not a lawyer, is that it?’
‘As far as Tarrel’s are concerned, yes, that’s it. A woman as well!’ Roz laughed. ‘I’d be the last person Mr Banks would consider.’
‘And you’re so right for the job! It’s a damned shame. Have you considered trying an ordinary estate agent’s?’
‘You know how many there are here.’
‘You could go over the Border. There are plenty in England.’
‘As I told Mr MacKenna, I’m not likely to do that.’
‘Thank the Lord!’ cried Jamie. ‘I don’t want you going anywhere. Like another drink?’
‘No, thanks, I must go.’
They sat for a moment, looking into each other’s eyes, before Roz grabbed her bag and stood up.
‘It’s been lovely, Jamie. Thank you.’
‘It was lovely for me too, Roz.’
He paid the bill and they moved out into the evening sunshine still lighting the elegant George Street.
‘May I take you home?’ Jamie asked as they stood together, but Roz shook her head.
‘No need. I’ll get a tram.’
‘I’ll walk with you to the stop, then.’ A few minutes later, as her tram came into sight, he asked, ‘You don’t regret it? Coming out for that drink?’
‘I don’t regret it at all. It was good; I enjoyed it.’
‘Would you come out with me again, then?’
She looked away. Her tram was grinding to a halt and people were getting off while others waited to board. Her eyes moved to his. ‘I’d like to …’
‘But?’
‘Well, there is what we talked about.’
‘I don’t think we need worry. We could have a meal in town, somewhere right away from Tarrel’s. No one need see us.’
‘Let’s decide later, then. I must get this tram.’
‘Promise we will?’
She smiled, waved, stepped on to the tram and, with the usual squeaks and clanks was borne away, while Jamie stood watching until the tram was out of sight.
So, now she knew, Roz thought, going home on a high, her head spinning at what she’d discovered. Jamie Shield was attracted to her, had definite feelings for her. She’d not been wrong about those looks of his, after all.
How did such knowledge make her feel? Wonderful, she would have liked to cry from the top deck of the tram. Yes, wonderful, because she couldn’t deny that she was attracted to him, probably as much as he was to her, though she hadn’t been willing to admit it until now. But of course she couldn’t really cry ‘wonderful’, from the tram or anywhere else, because – well, because there was Mr Banks.
It was all very well for Jamie to say that Mr Banks was old fashioned, out of touch, and that there was no harm in colleagues going out together, even if they were man and woman and worked in the same department. Maybe that was true, but Roz could also see it from Mr Banks’s point of view. He was the boss, he had to make his law firm pay and get the most efficiency from his staff – and if his staff became tangled with each other, how efficient would they be? That was the way his mind would work and who could blame him?
On the other hand, even if she and Jamie were attracted to each other, they might never become truly involved. Who was to say that they would go so far? Why, she’d all along said herself that she wasn’t keen on commitment and wanted to have a career, and quite likely Jamie would say the same. Heavens, what was she worrying about? They’d had one drink together. Why get all worked up at such an early stage?
As she left the tram, Roz decided she would indeed go for a meal with Jamie, somewhere in town, as he’d suggested, where they wouldn’t see folk from Tarrel’s. Just for the moment, the future could take care of itself, eh? Decision made.
It was a relief, all the same, to let herself into the empty flat and not have to face questions over where she’d been from Ma or Chrissie, who were still at work. Lovely to sit down, have some tea and something to eat, and go over her time at the Adelphi with Jamie all over again.
Twenty-Two
For the next few days Roz and Jamie conscientiously tackled work, not allowing themselves to show anything new in their manner towards each other. As Roz had reminded herself, they’d only had one drink together. There was no need to behave in any other way than colleagues should. Except – well, they’d had that drink. And there was also that talk of having a meal together, even if it hadn’t been arranged. Roz had thought Jamie would ask her as soon as he saw her on Tuesday, but it wasn’t until the end of the day on Wednesday when he asked her quietly if she would be free the following evening.
‘Thought we might meet – as we said we would?’
‘Well, we said we’d discuss it,’ she replied.
‘Still thinking it’s a risk?’ His tone was light, as though making clear he didn’t really believe in
any such thing.
Her grey eyes very direct on him, she knew what she’d decided. Might as well say. ‘I’d like to meet, Jamie. If you’re happy about it.’
He gave a long sigh. ‘Roz, I’ve only just found the courage to ask you. I thought you might have decided against me.’
She shook her head, smiling, a little relieved. ‘Where shall we go, then?’
‘I know just the nice little anonymous place we’d like. Off Marchmont Road, a small restaurant near my flat. Alan – my flatmate – and I have been there a couple of times. The food’s what you’d expect, but what they’ve got they cook quite well. Any good?’
‘Sounds perfect. What time shall we meet?’
‘Seven o’clock there, if that’s all right? The name is Platters.’
‘Platters. Fine, I’ll see you there.’
‘You’re sure you can get a tram? I feel I should be taking you myself.’
‘Jamie, I’ve lived in Edinburgh all my life. I think I know how to get around.’
‘Of course you do, and I’m the country boy. But I’m learning to get around too in my spare time.’
‘Going where?’
‘Looking at properties, streets, areas. Figuring out where the building boom will go when it starts, as it will, when things improve. Edinburgh’s going to see some changes, you know.’
‘Not too many,’ she said uneasily.
‘Hey, it’ll be right for us! More development can only be good news for people in the property business.’
‘We’ve already had changes. All that ribbon development in the thirties – bungalows all over the place.’
‘Not knocking bungalows, Roz? They get bought and sold too, remember?’
‘But they have no character, Jamie! And you like character, too, eh?’
‘Personally, yes, but for my bread and butter, I’m willing to buy and sell what comes my way. But what are we doing, talking like this? Forgetting what’s important!’
‘And what’s that?’
‘Our meeting tomorrow. Agreed?’
Their glances meeting, she said softly, ‘Agreed.’
There was no way out of telling Flo and Chrissie that she would be having a meal with someone the following evening. Biting on the bullet, she told them as soon as they came home from work on Wednesday.
‘You finish early tomorrow night, eh? Thought I’d better say I won’t be having tea. I’m going out for a meal.’
‘Oh?’ Flo’s eyes were wide. ‘That’s something new.’
‘Who with?’ asked Chrissie, with interest. ‘Not one o’ the lawyers?’
‘He is a lawyer, as a matter of fact. The one I work with.’
Flo and Chrissie looked at each other.
‘That fellow who took over from the nice one?’ asked Flo.
‘Mr Shield, yes. But he’s nice too.’
‘H’m. Thought you wouldn’t be allowed to go out with him.’
‘It’s just for a meal, Ma.’
‘Just the two of you?’
‘Well, yes,’ Roz said, hesitating slightly and wishing an end to the questions.
‘You call him Mr Shield?’ asked Chrissie.
‘No, I call him Jamie, but only when we’re alone.’
‘Fancy. Thought those stuffed shirts at your place never used first names, eh?’
‘He asked me if we might use first names. Seemingly, where he worked before it was quite the thing.’
‘H’m,’ said Flo again. ‘Well, I hope you know what you’re doing. How about putting the kettle on?’
‘What are you going to wear?’ asked Chrissie. ‘Are you going somewhere grand?’
‘Exact opposite. Somewhere small and quiet in Marchmont. And I’m not worrying too much about what I wear.’
‘Marchmont? Not many cafés there, eh?’
‘This one’s near his flat.’
As Roz filled the kettle she could almost hear the wheels in her mother’s mind moving round and round.
‘So he’s got a flat? Of his own?’
‘No, he shares it with another fellow. Don’t worry, Ma, I’m not going there anyway.’
‘Not yet,’ said Flo.
‘Ma!’ Roz said warningly, and no more was said until they were drinking tea and eating some tasteless Madeira cake, when Flo seemed to relax a little and reminded Roz and Chrissie that Dougal was due home on Friday.
‘D’you think he’ll be in his uniform?’ she asked anxiously. ‘I don’t want to see him in that.’
‘He’ll change for the weekend,’ Roz told her quickly. ‘Don’t worry about it, Ma.’
Might as well save her breath, she thought, sighing. Only Ma would decide what to worry about, or not.
Twenty-Three
Marchmont, home to Jamie and where Roz was to meet him at Platters, was an area of mainly tall stone houses, most given over to flats. Though the architecture had a certain sameness about it, it was a popular neighbourhood, near the Meadows, one of Edinburgh’s largest parks, and Bruntsfield Links, a piece of land of great antiquity. Somewhere to walk, then. Somewhere to breathe fresh air and pretend to be in the country. No wonder the flats were sought after and fetched a good price.
Oh, nice, thought Roz, arriving at the outside of Platters at exactly seven o’clock on Thursday evening and admiring its white painted woodwork and hanging baskets of summer flowers. But where was Jamie?
‘Roz!’ she heard him call as he appeared from the main door and came towards her with outstretched hands. ‘Well done, you found it! And dead on time, too!’
‘You know I don’t like to be late,’ she told him, laughing. ‘But this place looks so pretty, Jamie – it’s very unusual, eh?’
‘Different from most Edinburgh restaurants, that’s true. But come on, let’s go in – I’m starving.’
Inside was just as pleasing, with shaded lights and vases of flowers on the white-clothed tables, most of which seemed to be occupied, making Roz wonder if they were too late to be served. But it was all right – Jamie had booked and a waitress showed them to a table by a window, handing them menus with a friendly smile.
‘No’ a lot o’ choice,’ she whispered, ‘but the lamb casserole’s very nice.’
‘Sounds good,’ said Jamie. ‘What do you think, Roz? Shall I order for us both?’
‘Yes, please.’
Roz, who was taking more notice of the well-dressed diners than the menu, was glad she’d put on her best jacket and pretty blouse, for this place was a good deal smarter than she’d imagined. And expensive? Not used to dining out, she was beginning to feel a little uneasy, and when Jamie apologised for the lack of wine, Platters not yet having a licence, she sighed with relief. At least she needn’t worry about keeping her head from drinking wine, whatever else might keep her from thinking straight.
When the waitress had taken their order, Roz leaned forward. ‘I didn’t know we were coming anywhere like this,’ she whispered. ‘I mean, it’s grander than I thought.’
‘Only the best for you, Roz,’ Jamie said cheerfully.
‘But it’s expensive, eh?’
‘It’s not too bad. It’s not exactly your Caledonian, or the North British Hotel. As I say, Alan and I come here sometimes when we feel like a change from getting our own meals.’ Jamie reached over and touched her hand. ‘Don’t worry about it, anyway.’
‘But we could still see somebody from Tarrel’s here, I should think. And you didn’t want that.’
‘They won’t come here – it’s not their sort of place. Can’t see John Wray or Tony Newman liking hanging baskets, or Mr Banks either, for that matter.’
‘I just wish we didn’t have to worry.’
‘Look, we needn’t worry.’ His eyes were serious. ‘The thing is, we’re together, having a lovely meal – or will be when it comes – and what could be better than that? Just relax and enjoy the evening.’
Still troubled, her smile was reluctant, but gradually, as she looked across at Jamie and realized how much she wante
d to be with him, she did relax and the smile became genuine, even radiant.
‘That’s more like it,’ Jamie said with relief. ‘No more “ifs” and “buts”, eh?’
‘I’ll do my best.’
Their food came and was good, as Jamie had said it would be, and as they ate and talked, Roz’s misgivings finally left her and she found herself at ease.
‘You know what, Jamie, tonight is the time to talk about you, eh? The other day it was all me, but I want to know about you. So, tell me!’
‘As I said, you know all about me already. Where I come from, who my parents were, what I like to do.’ He shrugged. ‘What else is there to say?’
‘Well, I don’t really know what you like to do, apart from work. I mean, what is there to do in Kelder?’
‘Precious little! You have to go into Berwick for entertainment – and that’s a wonderful place, full of history and so on, but not exactly buzzing with night life, you might say. What do I like?’ He twirled his glass of soft drink. ‘I like to walk, go to the cinema when I can, photography – look, I told you I was a pretty uninteresting fellow. Can we stop this interrogation now?’ he added, jokingly.
‘Who do you walk with?’ she pressed on. ‘Have you a lot of friends in Kelder?’
‘Sure,’ he answered readily. ‘Fellows I went to school with, people I worked with …’
The waitress appeared to take their plates. ‘Like a sweet?’ she asked. ‘There’s castle pudding or apple tart.’
They chose apple tart and, when the waitress had left them, Roz, fiddling with her spoon, asked, ‘Jamie, how about girls?’
‘Girls? You mean, girls in my life?’ He gave a disarming smile. ‘The answer’s yes. At my age, it’d be unlikely that there wouldn’t have been one or two.’
‘I see,’ she said quietly.
‘You’re younger than I am, of course, but there must have been some fellows for you, Roz. Am I right?’
‘None that meant anything to me.’
‘Well, there you are. All in the past. Why don’t we talk about the present? Guess what I’m going to do?’
