The One and Only

by Doris E. Smith

  ‘Sorry I did,’ he thrust pettishly. ‘If it got out I’d look pretty silly. But—all right, I trust you. And I’m counting on you. So please, darling, see it my way. After all, we do have something going.’

  It was hard to look into the eyes, now smiling again, and remember how much she owed to their owner. Maggie tried not to see them as she answered: ‘I can’t. What you asked before was different. It seemed an intrusion and it worried me, but it wasn’t immoral. I knew it couldn’t hurt and I wanted to help. This is something else altogether. It’s not right, it couldn’t be.’

  ‘Maggie, it’s done. It’s done all over America and Europe.’

  ‘Derek, I know that. But not by me. Now come on, let’s have that meal. Salad, I think you said?’

  She had cooked worse suppers and better ones—from an armchair. So far as tonight’s guest was concerned it made no matter. After a few mouthfuls he laid down knife and fork. ‘I know what it is. You’ve fallen for him.’

  She shook her head. She had not ‘fallen for’ Angus MacAllan. She loved him, bluntness, prejudices, weaknesses all thrown in. Especially weaknesses like ice-cream and old movies and being lonely for someone to talk to.

  ‘He doesn’t know I’m around,’ she said factually, and drew a breath. ‘But there is one thing that worries me and it’s this. I know you feel I’ve failed you. I’ve been wondering...’

  ‘So have I.’ It filled in so neatly that her heart jerked. ‘MacAllans have something pretty important on the stocks. I know that. And I know it’s coming to the boil.’

  ‘I wasn’t talking about MacAllans. I’m sure the deal will go through. The whole world knows they’re good. It’s us I’m worried about.’

  ‘Us?’ His jaw dropped. ‘Maggie, you’re not...’

  It was a little scaring. He looked again the man she’d thought she loved, grave-eyed, gentle-lipped, carved like a handsome angel. And insecure. Needing her as she’d never thought possible.

  ‘No. I’m giving you the option,’ she said gently. ‘You might hate living with my conscience.’

  Derek sighed irritably. ‘Do you mind, darling? I’m not in the mood. It’s still on, you know that, so let’s just take it as read.’

  It was for Maggie an almost sleepless night. By turns hot and by turns shivering with cold, she lay confronted by past and future.

  She must have been wearing blinkers all that first weekend in Edinburgh. Derek had undoubtedly manoeuvred her into Strathyre and that made his chagrin when at first she had upset the plan perfectly understandable. She didn’t love him. Yesterday morning, in fact, she’d decided to break it up. But since then she’d seen him and his strained face haunted her. It would be like kicking a man who was down.

  At breakfast there was Kelly. Last night on the pretext of lateness she had been hustled to bed without being allowed to talk. Now she was determined on her innings.

  Graham’s song had been ‘Bonnie Strathyre’. Had it been written about here? she asked, spooning out marmalade. She had asked ‘Angus’ and he had said: ‘Of course.’

  ‘Then I’m afraid he was having you on,’ Maggie said shortly. If the choice of song seemed in the circumstances a trifle naive she would dearly love to have heard it.

  ‘His face was all red,’ Kelly confided. ‘So was Angus’s. He looked away all the time. Troy and I didn’t, though. We clapped.’

  ‘Troy?’ Maggie echoed sharply. ‘Was she there?’

  ‘Yes. She came with us,’ Kelly answered carelessly. ‘And a boy did conjuring. He pulled a scarf thing out of somebody’s coat.’

  She was dawdling. ‘Watch the time, Kelly,’ Maggie said briskly. ‘You’ll be late.’

  It was beyond all reason that she should feel like this, unable to think of anything but the inferences to be drawn from Troy accompanying Angus to the concert. How pleased he must be feeling. For anyone who loved him there must only be room for joy.

  Certainly Troy, dropping into the stables later that morning, seemed joyful enough, even when admitting that she had failed the exam for which she had recently sat. Maggie commiserated and found it needless.

  ‘Not to worry,’ Troy said blithely. ‘You can’t win ‘em all.’

  ‘Can you take it again?’

  ‘At Christmas if I want to. It’s a chance to re-think.’ The eyes were not as careless as the voice. ‘You know I’ve moved?’ It seemed she had taken a flat in Aberdeen. ‘Just for three months. I thought I should be nearer. You see,’ she hesitated, ‘Angus has been talking to me. I think I may sell after all. I’m sure it won’t make any difference to you, Maggie, except as regards Wee House. Angus wants that.’ Softly pink and wearing a pleated midi suit, she was a new Troy and obviously a contented one.

  ‘I understand.’ Maggie had no doubts that she did.

  ‘I hope you do,’ Troy said awkwardly. ‘You’re good folk and I’d like us to be friends, in spite of the way I’ve treated you.’ As Maggie’s eyes widened she went on with the friendliness that had been so winning that first evening in Princes Gardens, ‘I know I’ve been bitchy. I couldn’t help it. Somehow when Derek talked about you I never pictured how you looked, and when I saw you I got the drop of my life. You were so gorgeous and you were coming to live here in Angus’s pocket. Need I say more?’

  The explanation was so frank that resentment was out of the question. Besides, they had not been competitors. Angus had picked his girl months ago and all Maggie could claim was perhaps the credit for having opened her eyes. And now that the end had been achieved the puzzling pinpricks en route were logical and forgivable. ‘I wish I’d known.’ Needless as Troy’s fears had been, she could appreciate the state of mind that had begotten them. “There never was the slightest danger, but I always thought you came here against your will.’

  ‘Good. Then I’m not blown!’ The laugh was light and infectiously gay. ‘Maggie, I must dash. I’ll see you and tell you everything. It’s still a bit hush-hush at the moment.’ Maggie could not pretend that the news had been unexpected, and yet for the rest of the day she felt as dazed and numb as a person in shock. Not two months ago she had faced the sale of Fairley Hall. Here was another sale, but this time she would lose much more than a job. Wherever she went her eyes would keep on seeing it; the criss-cross of white fencing, the steeple clock and the road home when, in the words of Graham’s party piece, the evening fell gently on bonnie Strathyre. Leaving would rend the fibres of life itself.

  The following days were quiet with no more visits from Troy, though Kelly reported one evening that she had seen her car in front of Strathyre. Indeed, apart from customers, Graham was the stables’ only caller. He came every day and was welcome in his own right. Cool, steady and gentle, he was shaping into just the rider Maggie had hoped. She would have loved to bring him to competition standard.

  The mornings had had a nip in them for some time. On Sunday looking across the valley from the church gate the tops of the Cairngorms were sprinkled with snow.

  ‘I hope it’s not gone before Saturday,’ Kelly observed. ‘Then we can ski.’

  ‘Ski?’ Maggie echoed.

  ‘When we go to Braemar for Graham’s birthday.’

  ‘When we go to—now wait a minute. Mr. MacAllan and Graham may be going to Braemar. We’re not.’

  The red pompom on Kelly’s tarn stopped bobbing and Kelly stared wide-eyed at her aunt. It was a moment—quite a frequent one these days—when her face seemed to open, and brow, eyes and rosebud lips might have been her mother’s. ‘You’re joking, of course?’ The imitation of Graham’s adult tones was perfect.

  Maggie had hard work not to lose control of the van. She sobered. ‘I’m sorry, sweet one. Don’t be too disappointed. We had our fun last Sunday.’

  Even if an invitation did come their way, she could not for her own safety accept it. It would be the mixture as before—the heights, the depths and for months the haunting ache of wanting what she could not have.

  Right now there was work to be done. She p
ut a batch of rock cakes in the oven and set about the house with the vacuum cleaner. Kelly’s share was dusting the sitting-room. She did it like lightning, threw her school anorak over her tartan dress and dashed off to bounce balls with Graham.

  Soon afterwards there was a knock at the door. Angus, hammer in hand, was standing on the step. A coil of wire rope was looped over his arm. Baggy pants, dark sweat shirt and creased jacket gave him a homely look.

  ‘The penalty of being overlooked by the neighbours,’ he said, grinning. ‘I can see your clothes line from our bathroom. It’s down.’

  ‘Yes.’ Maggie had been bothered about the clothes line. It had fallen yesterday and she’d thought about asking Rob to fix it, but at the stables it had been all go. ‘I haven’t had time yet...’ It was the old bone of contention. She checked sharply and saw a gleam in his eyes.

  ‘How did it happen?’ he asked, surveying the damage.

  ‘I washed a bedspread.’

  ‘And hung it out dripping?’

  She nodded.

  ‘No wonder.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘You should stick to horses!’

  ‘What you mean to say is your wife would never have been so daft!’ She let the words out impulsively and coloured.

  ‘Do I?’ he asked mildly, trailing the broken end. ‘I hadn’t thought about it. Jean was no paragon, thank goodness.’

  His hands were as good as his brain and the line went up easily. Unexpectedly he hummed as he worked. Predictable, perhaps, after last week’s concert, that the tune should be ‘Bonnie Strathyre’, but for all that a shock when he started putting the words to it.

  ‘For there’s a mony a prince toad be prood to aspire

  Tae ma winsome wee Maggie, the pride o’ Strathyre.’

  Laughing at her, of course. Making a mock of her. Calling her ‘the pride o’ Strathyre’ when he was having to repair the damage her stupidity had caused. But it was a lovely old song and his voice was true and sweet. She hoped very foolishly that he would sing it all, but embarrassingly he seemed to notice her interest and broke off.

  ‘By the way, we have a washing machine and a drier,’ he said, giving the wire a last twist. ‘Use them when you like. Why not? My child bangs his ball off your house.’

  Maggie tried not to think that the green eyes, suddenly quiet, were staying longer than necessary on her face. ‘Thank you, I will. And thank you for fixing the line. It’s nice to have a good neighbour,’ she said demurely.

  ‘I’m a few rounds behind on that.’ The tone was short.

  ‘No. You—’ she broke off. ‘Coffee?’

  Angus accepted and had three of the rock cakes. ‘These are super,’ he said boyishly, and Maggie did not know when a compliment had pleased her more.

  ‘By the way, my bun is cooked,’ he added. As of yesterday the merger with Bonnie Tweeds was an accomplished fact, tomorrow there would be a press release. ‘The suggestion has been made that we call ourselves “Bonnie MacAllan”—make what you like out of that!’

  He could not know, Maggie thought as she smiled, what relief his words were giving her. Derek need take his investigations no further. His reports, incomplete as he’d considered them, had obviously been accepted by his clients. It would mean money to him and a morale boost. And for herself—it could be a turning point.

  Angus beamed when she congratulated him. ‘You’re the first to know. It’s been quite tricky, as a matter of fact. Walls have ears and the whole shebang could have gone up.’

  Thank heaven it had not, Maggie thought, thank heaven everything had rounded off for Angus—and for Derek.

  ‘I was wondering,’ Angus went on hesitantly. ‘I’ve to go down to Hawick on Wednesday, staying away one night, maybe two. Do you think Graham could sleep here in Wee House? He can doss down anywhere, he has a sleeping bag.’

  ‘Of course. I’d love to have him,’ Maggie said warmly. ‘Thanks. It’s nice to have a good neighbour!’ he quipped. ‘I’ll be back in time for Friday. We’ll need to start after lunch.’

  What nonsense, of course they were coming too, he protested when Maggie explained. He had booked the two chalets and Graham had talked of little else for days. Why not, for goodness’ sake?

  Why not indeed? Because I couldn’t bear it, Maggie thought.

  ‘Surely it’s quite simple. I can’t possibly neglect the stables for a weekend. Sunday was bad enough. Saturday I always have lessons.’

  ‘Re-schedule them. Talk to Rob.’

  ‘I can’t.’

  ‘Then I will. I need a bit of encouragement. ‘I’ve taken your advice all week.’ The green eyes were arch.

  Maggie’s heart bounded. So that was it! He had taken the pressure off Troy and he needed a substitute. One woman for best, another for play. Who but Angus would have the gall to make it so obvious? And what treachery in her own body was suddenly firing her blood? Prudence vanished. She desperately wanted to snatch at this last gesture, made though it certainly was for Graham and Kelly. ‘I—I’ll think about it. I’ll see Rob.’

  There were three lessons in the book for Saturday, but one was Graham’s. Another was cancelled while Maggie was still looking at the date under Appointments. As she put down the phone it was like a pointer from providence. Rob’s comments also seemed relevant.

  ‘It’ll be the last of the month. Gettin’ on for winter after that. My sister stays in Buckie and they had snow last week. Why don’t you go?’ he ended tetchily. ‘You may not get the chance again.’

  The mood was chatty. Yesterday he had seen ‘the laird hersel’ ’, his habitual sarcasm for Troy as landowner, in the ‘toon’ hand in hand wi’ a chap who could just as well have been a lassie. ‘He’d the hair down to here,’ Rob’s hand went to his waist. ‘But they seemed happy, I’ll say that for them. You could maybe tell Angus MacAllan that if you wanted to lighten his heart for him.’

  Maggie stared. It was a bit surprising, in view of last week’s developments, that Troy should be back among her student friends, but that Rob should think Angus would be pleased was incomprehensible. Fond, however, as she was of her right-hand man it was impossible to discuss such matters with him.

  He was undeterred. ‘Ah, come on now. You’ve got eyes in your head. It’s been a tairrible chase.’

  ‘And none of our business,’ Maggie retorted. ‘We only work here.’

  Rob’s battered countenance stared her back. ‘Oh aye,’ he said carelessly, and turned on his heel. At the door, however, he turned and favoured her with a fearsome wink. ‘You’d be daft not to go,’ was his last word.

  It was hard, Maggie acknowledged, for Rob’s generation to accept today’s easy relationships. She was much nearer Troy’s age and knew that a boy and girl walking down the street hand in hand was no indication that later they would be walking down the aisle. An outgoing nature like Troy’s took anyone who was ‘good folk’ straight to her heart.

  During the afternoon Derek, back in Aberdeen for some formality in connection with his new office, telephoned and asked himself to supper. Again it seemed like fate making an opportunity. The time was right and so was the place. Tonight and no later Maggie decided she would make the break. How deeply it would wound him she could not guess.

  That day under the beech trees in Lovers’ Lane had been fairly emotional, but last Wednesday, fraught and angry, he had demonstrated how far apart they were.

  The early news bulletins on television had carried a brief interview between their industrial correspondent and the senior director of Bonnie Tweeds who happened to be attending a function in Glasgow. The evening paper with a more local interest carried Angus’s photograph and a paean about MacAllan expansion and another one hundred jobs.

  Maggie set a bottle of wine on the supper table. The merger was a vindication of Derek’s efforts and he would be pleased. In some measure it would cushion any regrets he might have at losing her. She could not think he would find them shattering. She was seeing things more clearly now and calculating how long he had rema
ined a bachelor.

  Due largely to Kelly’s presence it was a quiet meal. ‘Goodnight, chatterbox!’ Derek said unfairly when the child’s bedtime arrived.

  Maggie, disappointed as always when her niece did not shine, kissed her briskly and sent her upstairs.

  ‘Can I read?’ Kelly asked.

  ‘For ten minutes. And close the door.’

  Now it could be postponed no longer. She turned to Derek and found his eyes were on her. ‘Now that we’re alone,’ she said steadily, ‘there’s something I must say.’

  ‘I hope I can’t guess what it is.’ He sat forward looking tense.

  ‘I think you possibly can.’ It was cowardly, but she could not look at him. She stood gazing at the drive she’d walked across that enchanted evening to the lights and flowers in Strathyre. ‘I won’t wrap it up, Derek. I’ve thought a lot about this and though I’m very fond of you I know now our marriage would be unfair.’ The silence was suddenly painful. She felt his eyes on her and turned. ‘Don’t you feel that yourself?’ she appealed gently.

  ‘Does that matter? You seem to have done the deciding.’ That, she thought, was her privilege. But he was hurt and she must make allowances. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound arbitrary. I just felt it would be fairer not to delay. I think you must agree, Derek, at times you find me a drag.’

  ‘And how do you find me? For a start, not as well heeled as Angus MacAllan.’

  Again control was necessary. ‘If you mean that, it proves my point. You don’t know me at all.’

  ‘No, I’m sorry.’ His head made an impatient movement. ‘And I’m sorry for being rough with you on Wednesday. It was stupid to expect the impossible.’