by Anne Douglas
When they returned from the pub, having enjoyed ham and eggs outside in the sunshine, they found Laurence waiting for them, wondering if they’d like him to show them the stable block and offices. At one point, he explained, there’d been an agent to manage the estate, but he’d been gone for some time and hadn’t been replaced.
‘I’m sort of a jack of all trades now,’ he explained, as they moved to the rear of the house, Reggie with his camera, Roz and Angus looking round with interest at the extensive stabling and other buildings, all so quiet now, though once of course alive with activity. Certainly, there were no horses in the stables any more. The building was now a garage, housing Laurence’s old Alvis and a battered Land Rover.
‘I gave up riding some time ago,’ he remarked cheerfully. ‘If there’s one thing that literally eats money, it’s a horse. But I still use my office next door – even have a typewriter and use all my fingers, would you believe?’
‘I think you do very well,’ Roz told him quietly as Angus and Reggie moved a little away. ‘It must be hard for you, the way things are.’
‘No, I’m lucky. Lucky to have known Bellfields all my life.’ His handsome face was serious as he looked down at her. ‘Roz – will you have dinner with me one evening?’
‘Dinner?’ She glanced quickly to where Reggie was now preparing for a shot of the stable, while Angus was looking on. ‘I—’
‘Don’t say no straight off. Why should you? We’re friends – we’ve met again, it would be natural to have a meal together. I know a very pleasant little place in Edinburgh. I could meet you whenever you like.’ He too glanced over at the others, then touched Roz’s arm with some urgency. ‘Quick, say yes! We can fix the details tomorrow.’
‘I’m in the office tomorrow. I have to look after things while Mr Appin’s here.’
‘In the office? Oh, hell!’ He hesitated. ‘No, it’s all right. I can ring you. That’d be better, in fact.’ His smile on her was radiant. ‘Be ready to say yes.’
‘I’d better get back to the library,’ she muttered, as Angus came to join them, ‘and finish my measuring for today.’
Forty-Five
In a way, Laurence’s promise to call her rather spoiled Roz’s first morning in charge of the property department, for every time the telephone rang she thought it might be him. Each time was a bit of a let-down and shouldn’t have been. She must be professional, she told herself – she was here to do a job and was trusted to do it well, not to be thinking about Prince Charming calling to ask her to the ball. Sorry, dinner.
Did she really think of Laurence Carmichael as Prince Charming, though? She must do, for the name had come into her head and there must have been something in her subconscious to make that happen. If he was Prince Charming, was she, then, Cinderella? No! Certainly not! She was herself: intelligent, attractive – so people said – not one to be needing a fairy godmother and a pumpkin. All the same, as she bent over the copy she was preparing for The Scotsman property column, she knew it had to be admitted that there was no house like Bellfields, no well-known family, no famous school, no experience of being presented to the king and queen at Holyrood in her background, like the girls Laurence must know.
The more she thought about it, the more foolish she thought it would be for her to have dinner with him. She was as good as anyone, she truly believed it, but others wouldn’t, and why should she risk putting herself in that sort of situation? As soon as he rang, she decided she would tell him she didn’t want to have dinner with him, and that would be that. No involvement, no pain – that was the golden rule.
Help, there was the phone! Another client wanting a visit, or an appointment, no doubt—
‘Tarrel and Thom’s, property department,’ she intoned in her best telephone manner, ‘how may I help you?’
‘Hello, Roz, it’s Laurence here,’ came the voice she’d been waiting for. ‘How are you? All alone in the property department?’
‘Yes, I’m enjoying it.’
‘Good. But you know why I’m calling, don’t you? Just wanting to arrange a time for our dinner.’
‘Oh, well …’ She cleared her throat. ‘I’m not sure about it, really. I don’t think I actually said I’d come, did I?’
‘Not in so many words.’ He sounded a little stiff, a little taken aback. Perhaps he’d thought she’d jump at the chance to have dinner with him. ‘But you didn’t say you wouldn’t, either.’
‘The thing is, I don’t think it’s a very good idea.’
‘Why ever not?’
‘I’d rather not go into it all over the phone.’
‘Over dinner, then. You can tell me all your objections then.’
She couldn’t help laughing. ‘When I’ve come anyway?’
‘That’s what I’m hoping. Look, why don’t we just give it a go? What’s one dinner? We could just meet, talk, have a nice meal – what do you say?’
Despite her best efforts she could feel her resolutions fast sweeping away, as the sea bore away the sand from a castle on the beach, and couldn’t find the one word ‘no’ that would stop the flow.
‘Why don’t we say we’ll meet tomorrow night?’ he pressed on. ‘I’ll book us a table at Duthies and call for you about seven. Would that suit?’
Call for her at seven on a light summer evening when all eyes in Deller Street would be riveted on Laurence’s Alvis, not to mention Laurence himself? It was the last thing she wanted, but she didn’t say, as she’d said to Jamie on their first date, that she would meet him at the restaurant, for she knew it would be best if he did collect her from home, neighbours’ eyes or no neighbours’ eyes. Deller Street was Deller Street, a perfectly respectable place to live, and if it was different from Bellfields – well, there was her point made.
‘That will be fine,’ she said clearly. ‘I’ll give you the address. Have you got a pen?’
It was only when she’d put the phone down that it came to her that though she’d been worrying about the reactions of the neighbours to Laurence Carmichael, she hadn’t given a thought to her mother’s. Or, Chrissie’s. When she told them she was going out with him, they’d think her crazy. Well, she was. She thought so herself.
At least she could say that it would just be a once-only time, this dinner. She wasn’t stupid enough to get caught up in a relationship that might cause her more heartbreak. Not that she thought of Laurence in the same way as she’d thought of Jamie. Not yet, but it could happen. For he wasn’t just attractive in his own right, he was the owner of Bellfields. For someone who cared for beautiful houses as she did, that was a tremendous pull; she must be on her guard, not to let it sway her from being sensible. Armed with her good intentions, she felt ready to face her family.
It was late evening when they’d both returned from work that she told them, very casually, of course, about the dinner invitation from Mr Carmichael.
‘So, I won’t be having tea tomorrow, Ma. He’ll be collecting me at about seven.’
Flo’s pale blue eyes were mystified; Chrissie’s interested.
‘Mr Carmichael’s asked you to dinner?’ Flo set down her cup of tea and her cigarette. ‘The man who owns Bellfields?’
‘Yes, you remember, I first met him on that trip to Kirkcudbright? I told you, didn’t I?’
‘I don’t remember that. Do you, Chrissie?’
Chrissie shook her head. ‘I know you went on the trip, but you never mentioned Mr Carmichael.’
‘Oh? I thought I had.’ Roz poured herself more tea. ‘Anyway, when we went to the house, to take particulars, you know, we met again and today he rang me at work and asked if we could meet for dinner. It’s just a friendly thing – nothing romantic.’
‘A friendly thing, but he wants to take you out for a meal?’ Flo and Chrissie exchanged glances. ‘That’s usually the start o’ something, eh?’
‘That’s the way it goes,’ Chrissie agreed. ‘He must be attracted to you, Roz, or he wouldn’t want to take you out. Fancy, a guy like that!�
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‘What do you mean, exactly?’ Roz asked, knowing full well. ‘You think it’s surprising? That he’d want to take me to dinner?’
‘Aye, it is,’ Flo declared. ‘When you think of who he is.’
‘He’s just like anyone else!’ Roz cried. ‘Only nicer. We got on really well. We enjoyed talking to each other. OK, I know I don’t come from his sort of background, but I don’t see why that should matter when we’re just having a meal somewhere.’
‘It’s what that might lead to,’ Flo said solemnly. ‘I’m starting to worry already.’
She picked up her cigarette and smoked it rapidly.
‘I don’t want you hurt again, Roz, and if you get involved in something with no future, you will get hurt, eh?’
‘Ma, it’s not going to lead to anything!’ Roz said desperately. ‘This is just a one-time thing – nothing to get worried about.’
‘Roz, you’re as good as anybody,’ Chrissie declared, ‘but folk are always keen to point the finger and make you feel miserable if you don’t fit in. That’d be what you’d be up against, if this did lead to anything.’
‘I know all that, but it’d only happen if I got involved, and I’m not going to get involved, so just let me have a nice dinner and a chat with Laurence – Mr Carmichael – and leave it at that.’
‘As long as we can,’ sighed Flo. ‘I think I’m away to my bed.’
‘Me, too,’ said Roz. ‘I’ll just pop down to the bathroom.’
As she hurried out, anxious to get away from the heavy atmosphere of concern, Chrissie looked at Flo.
‘You all right, Ma?’
‘Aye, just worried, that’s all. I mean, Roz is that sensible, usually – what’s got into her?’
‘I think it’s the house, Ma. You know what she’s like about houses and she’s never met a man before who owns a house like Bellfields.’
‘She’s dazzled, you mean?’
‘That’s the word.’
‘So, this dinner’s not likely to be a once-only, is it?’
‘Roz says it is, but this Mr Carmichael might have other ideas.’
‘Aye, ideas that won’t end in a wedding ring. He might be attracted to Roz, but when it comes to marriage he’ll choose one of his own.’
‘We’ll just have to keep our fingers crossed, Ma, and hope for the best.’
‘Bathroom’s free!’ cried Roz, putting her head round the door, and with some relief they gave themselves up to the ritual of going to bed and putting aside worries until the morning. Except that sleep came late to Flo and Roz, and only Chrissie was soon away, breathing deeply, dreaming no doubt of her dear Bob. How Roz envied her!
Forty-Six
It was a relief to Roz that her mother and Chrissie were both doing a late shift again the following evening, and were not there to watch her getting ready. Changing her mind about what to wear as usual, she ended up in the same green jacket she’d worn at Bellfields but with a pale green blouse Laurence wouldn’t have seen before. Not that he’d have noticed, if he was like most men, but she didn’t know him well enough to be sure. What did it matter, anyway?
‘Have a good time,’ Chrissie had said at breakfast, as Flo had sat, sighing, but Roz had only shaken her head.
Fat chance after all the gloom you two were spreading last night, she’d wanted to say, but had thought better of it. All she wanted now was for the evening to be over, for her confidence had been so dented, her pleasure in the thought of it had quite evaporated. It was only when she saw him again, leaping out of his car to open the passenger door, the sun glinting on his fair hair, that her heart lifted slightly and she found herself smiling as though nothing had ever been said by Chrissie or Flo.
‘I see you found Deller Street all right,’ she murmured as she settled into the seat next to his, noting that his eyes were on her and not on the buildings, and wondering how many neighbours’ eyes were watching him. ‘That’s our flat there – the middle one – at number thirty-five.’
‘Oh yes—’ He turned his head to look, but only for a moment. ‘Very nice.’
Just what Jamie had said. Now, why remember that?
‘Where are we going, then?’ she asked quickly as they drove away. ‘Where’s this nice little place you told me about?’
‘Off Forrest Road. I used to go there when I was at the university.’
‘Oh, I envy you! What did you study?’
‘Architecture. Only did a year, then the war came and I joined the Scots Guards. Never went back.’
‘Why, that was a shame! Didn’t you want to?’
‘Yes, though I don’t suppose I’d have been anything wonderful. Thing is, my father had died in nineteen forty-two and I had to take over when I was demobbed. There was only me. My brother had been killed at Dunkirk, and we never knew our mother. She died when we were very young.’
‘Laurence, that’s so sad!’ Roz cried. ‘My dad died in the war so I know what it’s like to lose someone, but you’ve lost all your family.’
‘Yes, it’s sad, but we must talk of other things.’ He gave her a quick smile. ‘Our first time out together, we mustn’t be gloomy.’
First time out together? Only time, it had to be. But she said nothing.
‘It’ll be your turn to talk at Duthie’s,’ he warned. ‘And it’s coming up soon. I hope you’ll like it.’
She told him she was sure she would and, it was true, she did. A comfortable Scottish restaurant without too much tartan, it wasn’t a place she’d visited with Jamie, which meant she needn’t be reminded of him. Needn’t, but somehow was, which presented a mystery. She was long over him, so why all these memories? Perhaps because this was her first time out with another man and she was subconsciously comparing them? If that were true, she knew that the man she was with now was very different from Jamie. Thank the Lord for that!
‘This is so nice,’ she told Laurence as they took their table in the restaurant amongst a number of other diners. ‘I like it very much.’
‘I’m glad. My choice, so I feel responsible. Now, what shall we have?’
For some moments they studied their menus, Roz trying not to be too worried about the prices; there would be no point in trying to choose the least expensive dishes for everything seemed to be equally dear to her eyes, and she could only hope that Laurence was not so strapped for cash as he’d indicated. Everything was relative, of course. His idea of having no money, for instance, might not be the same as hers.
‘How about salmon soufflé for the first course?’ he asked, his blue eyes seeking hers over the top of his menu. ‘Or, smoked salmon pâté, perhaps?’
‘I think I’ll pass on the first course. Sometimes seems too much.’
‘All right, then. How about going straight to the gigot lamb chops, with the mushroom sauce?’
‘That would be lovely.’
Having ordered the lamb and a half bottle of wine for Laurence, with a soft drink for Roz, who said she was no great wine drinker, they gazed at each other across the table, not speaking yet seeming quite at ease.
‘Remember, we said it would be your turn to talk when we were here,’ Laurence said after a little while. ‘But of course you needn’t, if you don’t want to.’
‘Talk about myself, you mean?’ Roz shrugged. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘That’s good, because I’m interested. I’ve been interested in you from that first time when we shared a table for tea.’
‘Most people would think you were more interesting.’ Roz twirled the stem of her glass.
‘Most people would be wrong, then. Bellfields is interesting. I’m not.’
‘Well, maybe there’s more to say about you, anyway. Not much to say about me. My dad worked for the electricity station at Portobello, until he got called up in the war. When he was killed my mother took it very badly. For a long time she was very depressed and we had to look after her – I mean, my brother and I, and my sister.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ Laurence said
quietly. ‘It must have been hard.’
‘Yes. Well, she’s much better now and has a job in a restaurant on the cash desk. My sister’s a waitress and my brother’s in the army.’ A shadow crossed Roz’s face. ‘He’s in Korea now, in fact, fighting in the war.’
‘Oh, God, that’s a worry!’ Laurence stretched his hand across the table and touched Roz’s. ‘I am sorry, Roz. We thought we’d finished with war, didn’t we? And now some of our chaps are back in it. Let’s hope they sort that one out soon and send our soldiers home.’
Their lamb arrived and, as they began to eat, Laurence pressed her for more details about herself. ‘I haven’t heard much about you yet. How did you come to work in Tarrel’s property department?’
‘I did reasonably well at school, and while it wasn’t possible for me to go to university, I did a typing course and found a job. I’d always been interested in houses, so when the Tarrel job eventually came up, I applied and got it.’
‘And you’ve been happy there?’
‘Yes, very happy. I’m not a lawyer, though, which means I’m not likely to be able to run the department myself.’
‘Though you could,’ said Laurence, drinking his wine. ‘I bet you could do it standing on your head. Why don’t you move into an estate agent’s office? Somewhere where you don’t have to be a lawyer?’
‘In England, you mean? That’s been suggested before. Perhaps I should try it.’
‘Oh, Roz, please don’t! Don’t go away over the border! I was a fool to mention it!’
They both laughed then and continued their meal, choosing Drambuie cream as a pudding and finishing with coffee, after which Laurence called for the bill.
