My Heart Remembers

by Flora Kidd

  After worrying over the problem without reaching any result Sally decided to tell her father, ignoring Maeve’s plea not to tell anyone about the situation. He listened gravely and calmly, nodding his head and murmuring, ‘Just so, just so,’ and when she had finished he said,

  ‘Now, I know what to do. We must go to Dunginnis one Sunday and take Maeve with us. No need to tell her where we’re going. It will be one of our Sunday trips. I’ve been promising your cousins a trip over before the baby arrives. Now you write to Claire MacGinnis and tell her we’ll be coming over the Sunday after the Fair ... that’s in a fortnight’s time ... and tell her to make sure Fergus will be there, or if he’s away at sea ... if he is, she’ll let you know when she expects him back and we can change our plans accordingly.’

  Sharing the knowledge with Hugh helped. Sally wrote to Fergus’s mother and then set about inviting her cousins and her uncle and aunt to come on the trip. She also invited Mike. Then she told Maeve, assuming that her sister would automatically want to go on the trip, but did not tell her where they would be going. To her consternation Maeve said she wouldn’t be going because she had another and more interesting date. No amount of persuasion would move her, although Sally, having received a letter from Claire MacGinnis saying that she would be glad to see them and that Fergus would be at home, persisted right up to the morning of the day before the trip.

  ‘For the last time ... no, I’m not coming,’ stated Maeve exasperatedly. ‘I’ve better things to do. Why should I go with you? There’ll be no one to keep me company. You’ll have Mike, and it wouldn’t be any fun for me.’

  ‘Fun? Is that all you can think of, having fun?’ objected Sally, annoyed in turn.

  ‘At the moment, yes,’ flashed Maeve, her voice and her eyes hard. ‘Now leave me alone.’

  Sally seriously considered telling her sister of their destination in the hope that Maeve might reconsider. But a glance at the obstinate set of her sister’s mouth made her abandon the idea. It was no use. Her little plan had failed and it was too late to call off the trip because the weather had cleared up and everyone was looking forward to the outing.

  It had been a week of Portbride Fair ... an annual event when the farmers from the area held their own agricultural show. There were cattle shows, sheepdog trials and exhibitions of the latest farming equipment. The town was crowded with visitors seeing the show and attending the traditional sideshows associated with the Fair which were set up on the common ground to the south of the town. Each evening the jangling music had blared forth from the merry-go-rounds and other mechanical attractions, creating a new and exciting dimension to the life of Portbride.

  Now the last day of the Fair had arrived and that night

  everyone who had participated would be celebrating the end of the annual event by attending one of the two dances being held in the Town Hall and in the Yacht Club. Sally had been invited to go to the latter by Mike and she was also looking forward to taking part in the last of the races which had been arranged especially for Fair week that afternoon.

  The weather was perfect for the race as far as Mike was concerned. A slight north-westerly wind brought clear skies and a slight popple to the water. In such conditions the light weight of Sally plus her ability to keep still were an advantage which, coupled with Mike’s experience of sailing in light airs in the River Thames, enabled him to creep to the front of the fleet and stay there until the race was over.

  Pleased with his victory, he took Sally into the MacKinnon Arms for a drink before they went to the dance. They sat in one of the wooden booths which were a feature of the lounge and which were decorated with panels of various clan tartans. From where they were sitting Sally had a good view of the bar and could see Maeve, golden-haired and vivacious, serving with Meg Forbes, the wife of the proprietor. Maeve seemed to have a smile and a joke for everyone she served, and Sally could imagine that the sales of liquor had increased since she had been employed. Probably that was why the Forbes had asked her to work for them.

  ‘He wanted me to go back ... I told him he was a slave- driver. Needless to say it had no effect, so I pulled out my trump card.’

  Sally became aware that Mike was talking about Ross and pricked up her ears.

  ‘And what was that?’ she asked.

  ‘I just mentioned that I’d planned to take you to this dance and he capitulated at once. He became quite avuncular in fact. I thought for one moment he was going to give me his blessing,’ said Mike in his best facetious style. Then suddenly, ludicrously, the expression on his mobile face changed from cheerful amusement to one of lugubrious dismay.

  ‘Did I happen to speak of the devil?’ he said in an urgent whisper. ‘Well, there he is. Now this is interesting. Watch your sister.’

  Sally turned her head quickly. Ross was approaching the

  bar. Maeve, who had seen him coming, almost pushed Meg Forbes over in her haste to be in the right place to take his order, smiling and talking, turning on all her charm, deliberately not noticing or caring that on this busy night there were others waiting to be served.

  ‘Och, no, Maeve!’ murmured Sally embarrassedly.

  ‘Something to see, isn’t it?’ commented Mike. ‘And you have to give Ross his due, he makes no effort to encourage her. It just happens.’

  He was right. Ross leaned sideways against the bar and looked round the room. When he saw Mike his gaze stopped roving and turning to pick up his beer-mug he nodded casually to Maeve and began to walk across the room. Sally saw her stepsister’s shoulders slump momentarily in defeat before she turned to another customer.

  ‘Trouble,’ sighed Mike. ‘I could feel it in my bones all afternoon. Hello, Ross. What brings you here?’ he greeted cheerfully.

  Ross hooked his foot under a nearby chair and pulled it towards him and sat down before answering.

  ‘One of the bulldozers has packed in. I’d like it fixed straight away because we must make use of this fine weather to finish the digging. They tell me you might know how. If it can’t be fixed now it means waiting until Monday to call in another one from the suppliers.’ Turning to Sally, he smiled faintly and said, ‘Hello, Sally. Sorry to spoil your evening, but I’m afraid Mike will have to return to the site.’

  ‘I’ll take Sally home first, then I’ll go straight to the site,’ said Mike, rising to his feet.

  ‘No, I’ll look after Sally for you. She can keep me company while I drink this. Go to the site now, while there’s still some light,’ commanded Ross crisply. ‘You needn’t worry—I’ll make up the time to you.’

  ‘You’d better,’ threatened Mike mildly, ‘or you’ll find yourself short of one extremely valuable engineer! O.K., have no fear. The bulldozer will be fixed. Goodnight, Sally. I hope you’ll forgive this slavedriver for coming between us this evening. I’ll look forward to tomorrow. Let’s hope the weather holds.’

  Not wanting him to go, wishing he had persisted in his

  desire to take her home, Sally said goodbye and watched him walk swiftly away. And as she watched she felt a sudden rush of affection for the gay young man who had arrived so recently to change her life.

  ‘You like him?’

  She was not sure whether it was a question or a statement, but it jolted her, reminding her as it did of Ross’s ability to read the expressions on her face.

  ‘Yes.’ Cool and brief, that was the way to keep this meeting. She would finish her drink quickly and leave.

  ‘I’m glad,’ he murmured. ‘Mike is one of the best.’ His comment reminded her of Maeve saying that Mike would make a good husband. Ross would be recommending him next, and that she would be unable to bear. Raising her glass, she tried to drink her lemon squash quickly, only to swallow some the wrong way so that she choked.

  ‘Why the hurry?’ The tolerant amusement which she hated was there, making her feel infantile again. Fury that he should still regard her as a child made her choke even more so that tears stung her eyes. Ross moved into the seat that Mik
e had vacated and thumped her roughly on the back.

  ‘Ouch!’ she exclaimed involuntarily. But the choking stopped, leaving her with a violent attack of hiccups. ‘You don’t ... hic ... have to be ... hic ... so rough!’ she objected, turning to glare at him.

  His grin was unsympathetic.

  ‘And now you’ll have to wait here until you’ve stopped hiccupping,’ he taunted. ‘You can’t go home in that state. Aunt Jessie will think the worst if you do ... that you’ve been drinking whisky, and then she’ll really have something to complain about. Come to think of it, perhaps you have been drinking whisky.’

  While she seethed with indignation he picked up her glass and sniffed at it, then wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  ‘Lemon squash, and nothing else. Well, this beats everything!’ he remarked. ‘I’ve never known a girl who could get tight on lemon squash before.’

  His mockery was infuriating and she was near to choking again.

  ‘I’m not tight ...’ she started to object, then hurriedly

  tried to hold her breath and count to ten ... but she hiccupped loudly in the middle of her silent counting and he laughed unkindly.

  ‘Och, I wish you’d stop ... hic ... treating me as if ... hic ... as if I was only ... hic ... eleven!’ she blurted.

  ‘How would you like me to treat you, then?’ he asked quietly, and as always when he spoke quietly she became aware that she was treading dangerous ground.

  He moved closer to her and she stiffened involuntarily. With a forefinger he stroked the curve of her hair where it lay along her cheek.

  ‘Ever since I sat down here I’ve been trying to make out why you look different,’ he murmured softly. ‘Now I know why. It’s your hair. I like it.’

  Startled, Sally glanced at him and for a moment they stared at each other. It seemed to her that the expression in his eyes was a mixture of challenge and lurking amusement as if he challenged her to react to the subtle change in his manner in a more sophisticated way than was her custom and yet was amused because he knew that she could not. Unable to respond to either the challenge or the amusement, Sally flushed and looked down at the table.

  Moving away from her, Ross picked up his beer-mug and drank while she tried in vain to control the dithering which suddenly attacked her knees. She couldn’t go home in this, condition. In fact she doubted very much if she could stand up immediately and once again she felt annoyed because he had been able to assess her condition so accurately.

  Tight on lemon squash and too big a dose of Ross Lorimer!

  ‘How’s the driving?’ he asked in a bland conversational tone. Sally supposed that Maeve must have told him that she was taking lessons again.

  ‘Quite well, thank you,’ she replied stiltedly. The hiccups were subsiding, thank goodness, and soon she would be able to go home away from that disturbing presence.

  ‘I see you haven’t been able to persuade Maeve to return to her husband,’ he said.

  He sounded accusing, as if he considered it was her fault that Maeve was still in Portbride. Forgetful of her recent embarrassment, Sally turned on him because she had an accusation to make too.

  ‘You said you would try to avoid her, that you wouldn’t encourage her. But she says she’s seen you several times during the past weeks. Is that how you keep out of her way?’

  His eyes narrowed in reaction to her attack and his mouth curled ironically.

  ‘Do you know, I had a feeling you’d place all the blame squarely on me. Can I help it if when I come into town for a little relaxation and a change from the mud, Maeve is here? Can I help it if she plays a big seduction scene every time I appear?’

  His succinct description of Maeve’s behaviour when he had gone up to the bar tonight did not appeal to Sally; it was too accurate, too truthful.

  ‘You don’t have to come here,’ she defended. ‘You could go elsewhere for entertainment.’

  ‘How do you know I haven’t been elsewhere?’ was the disconcerting reply. ‘I come here only when I haven’t much time to spare. I like the place, and the beer is good, but I would prefer it if Maeve wasn’t here.’

  The coldness of his voice made Sally wince and feel suddenly sorry for Maeve.

  ‘I suppose you never bothered to find out why she’s left her husband,’ Ross went on, and the implied criticism of her inability to concern herself with Maeve’s affairs annoyed her again and she took defiant pleasure in being able to say tartly, ‘Yes, I did. And I wanted to tell you ... I looked for you and waited for you, but I never seemed to see you. How was I to know you’d gone to live on the site? I saw Mike instead.’ This hurried, jumbled explanation caused Ross to raise his eyebrows in quizzical surprise, but to her relief he made no sardonic comment.

  ‘You’d better tell me now,’ he said. ‘Is it a serious break between them or will it mend?’

  Quickly Sally told him of the cause of Maeve’s quarrel with Fergus and her subsequent flight from her mother-in-law’s house, then she explained the plan she and her father had concocted to get Maeve to return to Ireland.

  ‘You see, I thought if they met again, they’d forget their

  quarrel ... they’d be so glad to see each other. But Maeve has refused to go with us, she has better things to do. I thought she might be going somewhere with you?’

  He did not reply immediately, but leaned back against the back of the tartan-lined booth in which they were sitting and watched Maeve, who was busy serving a drink to a customer. The lounge was packed with people, farmers, holidaymakers, fishermen and yachtsmen, all in convivial mood for the last night of the Fair.

  ‘Looking at her now, thinking of the way she behaves, it isn’t easy to imagine Maeve pining for a child,’ observed Ross. ‘And yet I suppose it all fits. She’s the type to cover up desperation by flamboyant, outrageous behaviour. Do you know if they’ve had medical advice on the matter? I believe there are ways and means of dealing with this situation these days.’

  Sally glanced at him in surprise.

  ‘I don’t know ... I didn’t ask,’ she stammered. ‘But the problem now is getting them together again. Maeve says she can’t go back, and that no one can make her except Fergus himself, and he’s made no effort even to write to her. If he doesn’t come back soon it will be too late. And then I’d hate to think of what will happen to Maeve ...’

  Her voice trailed off into silence as she realised Ross wasn’t listening. He was still watching Maeve, yet Sally was sure he wasn’t seeing her. He wasn’t really interested in Maeve’s problem after all. He kept his real interest for someone else, someone who intruded into his thoughts, making his eyes go cold and blank. Sally stood up.

  ‘I think I’ll go home now,’ she said sharply.

  Her abrupt movement had caught his attention and he stood up too.

  ‘I’ll walk up the hill with you,’ he offered.

  ‘No, thank you,’ she replied stiffly, and started to walk away, pushing through the crowds towards the entrance hall of the hotel. The laughter and joviality of the people made her even more eager to leave.

  ‘Sally ...’ Ross was just behind her as she entered the hall. His hand was on her arm, forcing her to stop and face him. ‘I know I’ve messed up your evening. Let me ...’

  ‘Ross Lorimer, how wonderful to see you! I knew you were here, of course, but I didn’t think we’d meet so soon.’ The voice was harsh and it belonged to a middle-aged woman who had just descended the stairs and who came towards Ross, her hands outstretched in welcome. She was dressed in a simple black suit which helped to disguise her carefully controlled buxom curves. Her stiffly coiffured hair was a rich auburn which was wholly unnatural. Small dark eyes almost disappeared in the creases of her plump face as she smiled up at Ross, revealing fine sparkling teeth. Keeping a firm hold of Sally’s arm, Ross took one of the outstretched hands in his and said with a noticeable absence of warmth, ‘Hello, Miriam. You’re looking well. Is Tom here yet?’ Sally noticed that the small brown eyes were studying
her curiously and wished she could break free of Ross’s hold and excuse herself.

  ‘No. He arrives on Monday, as planned. I’ve been staying with friends in Edinburgh. I drove over this afternoon. I thought I’d use the weekend to make sure that the place we’ve rented to live in while we’re here is clean and well aired,’ replied Miriam. ‘Come and have a drink with me ... if we can get near the bar. There’s quite a party going on tonight... the end of the annual Fair, so I’m told.’

  ‘Thanks for the invitation. Another time, perhaps,’ returned Ross smoothly. ‘I promised I would see Sally home. This is Miriam Hunter, Sally. Her husband is in charge of the concrete boys who are about to join us on the site. Sally here is the daughter of a friend of mine, Miriam.’

  Sally murmured a polite, ‘How do you do,’ and was treated to a wide sparkling smile and another assessing glance.

  ‘Hello, Sally,’ said Miriam, then with a rather knowledgeable glance in Ross’s direction she murmured, ‘I hope you aren’t going in for cradle-snatching, Ross. I seem to remember your taste used to be a little more sophisticated.’

  Sally wondered whether she had heard correctly and looked at Ross to see how he would react. The expression on his face was normal, cool and non-committal, but there was a touch of malice in his crisp voice as he answered,

  ‘Still as tactless as ever, Miriam. When will you learn!’

  And Sally noticed Miriam’s neck redden and her small

  dark eyes flash before she smiled again.

  ‘Sorry, Ross. Did I touch a tender spot? Don’t mind me, Sally,’ she went on ingratiatingly. ‘I always say the first thing which comes into my head. Well, I’ll let you go and I’ll look forward to seeing you at our place as soon as we’re settled in. You’ll be welcome at any time. By the way, Ross, Lydia is coming to stay with us for a while. But you’ll know that. She’ll have written to you. Such a shame about poor Brian being killed, wasn’t it?’