‘Of course he’ll be dancing with you. Why, I bet she caught him at the door as he came in!’ Lynette’s voice was suddenly icy. ‘Like someone else I can see from here. Would you credit it?’
‘Credit what?’ Monnie asked dully, her eyes still watching Torquil and the girl from the tea shop, now smiling at each other and gliding away together as the music started.
‘Fionola has asked Ronan Allan to dance. Look, there they are, tripping away down the room. Oh, it’s too bad!’
‘Why, what do you care who Mr Allan dances with?’
Monnie, just for a second, turned her gaze from Torquil to her sister. ‘I didn’t think you’d be dancing with him anyway.’
‘Oh, I don’t care,’ Lynette retorted. ‘I don’t care at all. I just don’t want to be a wallflower.’
Wallflowers. There was no chance they would be that. First, Fergus, playing truant from the kitchen, came up to sweep Lynette on to the floor, to be followed by one of the hotel guests who escorted Monnie. Somehow, each sister managed to produce a brilliant smile, and as they progressed through the dance, pretended not even to notice when two young men tried to catch their eyes. It was only when ‘Strip the Willow’ was over and the two men came to them, that their own eyes flashed fire and the recriminations began.
Thirty-Two
Torquil’s blue eyes were innocently clear; his expression puzzled.
‘What’s wrong?’ he asked, trying to take Monnie’s hand, which she snatched away. ‘What have I done?’
As she made no reply, only turned her head and stared away, her face stony, he groaned and shook his head.
‘Ach, it is Nina you are upset about, eh? Because I danced “Strip the Willow” with her? But, Monnie, what could I do? I was late arriving and she asked me the minute I came through the door. I could not refuse, could I?’
‘Could not refuse?’ Monnie had swung round to face him. ‘Why could you not refuse?’
‘Well, it would have hurt her feelings. And it was only one dance, because here I am with you.’ His smile was disarming. ‘Come on, now, give me your hand and let us dance this Scottish waltz they are playing now.’
‘Why didn’t you just tell her you’d be dancing with me?’ she whispered, allowing herself to be led on to the floor. ‘You knew I’d be waiting for you.’
‘Sweetheart, I was looking for you, but there were so many folk, I couldn’t see you.’
She was a little mollified and as they moved into the Scottish waltz, a quiet, gentle dance she had always loved, she began to feel happier. To be with him again, to be close, to feel his hand in hers, was enough to be working familiar magic over her, and already she knew she was surrendering to its spell.
‘I am not the only one in trouble,’ he suddenly whispered against her face. ‘I can see from here that your sister is looking daggers at Mr Allan.’
‘Oh? Well, they often have arguments,’ Monnie murmured uneasily.
‘Aye, he gets on better with the lovely Fionola, eh? Saw him dancing with her in “Strip the Willow”.’
The lovely Fionola . . . A coldness hit Monnie’s heart, but she tried to smile. ‘You think she’s lovely? I don’t know her, but Lynette has told me she’s beautiful.’
‘Too beautiful for ordinary mortals.’ Torquil laughed. ‘Fishermen like me, for instance.’
Instantly, Monnie’s forced smile vanished. ‘You asked her out, Torquil?’
‘Me? No! To me, she is . . . unreal. Besides, I told you, she only has eyes for rich hotel guests. Or else, the manager. Maybe that’s what annoyed your sister?’
‘My sister doesn’t care about the manager,’ Monnie answered loftily, but at that Torquil only smiled.
Across the room, Ronan was trying desperately to placate Lynette, who, as Torquil had described it, had been looking daggers at him ever since he’d joined her.
‘I appear to be in disgrace,’ he was murmuring. ‘If so, I’m sorry. All I want to do is dance with you and now the music is playing and we shall soon be too late. Couldn’t we go on the floor?’
‘If you wanted to dance with me, you might have asked me before,’ she answered coldly. ‘I did “Strip the Willow” with someone else.’
‘Lynette, Fionola asked me and you know I have to dance with people on the staff. I could scarcely refuse.’
‘I’m sure that’s just what Torquil MacLeod has been saying to my sister.’
‘Torquil?’ Ronan looked bewildered. ‘What’s he got to do with it?’
‘Nothing. Forget it.’
Lynette was standing, tapping her foot, annoyed with herself for showing her feelings, yet unable, somehow, to conceal them, and then, as Scott Crosbie appeared suddenly in the doorway, wished with all her heart she could have been dancing with him. How easy it would be! How pleasant and painless, not to be all worked up and stressed as she was now! Her gaze reluctantly moving to Ronan’s quite anxious face, she sighed and shrugged.
‘Well, as I’m a member of staff, I suppose we should dance this waltz before it finishes. What do you say?’
‘Lynette, you know it’s what I’m waiting for!’
As they stepped together on to the floor, Lynette gave another quick look towards the door and didn’t know whether to feel sad or relieved that Scott was no longer there.
After the waltz, there was an eightsome, and as they hadn’t really had much time dancing together, Ronan said they might as well stay as partners for that.
‘And look who’s here!’ he remarked with a grin, and Lynette laughed, because opposite her was her father, whose partner was again Ishbel, and as the music began and they weaved in and out in the pattern of the dance, it vaguely crossed Lynette’s mind that she hadn’t seen Frank look so happy in a very long time. Monnie and Torquil were dancing in another set, but Lynette decided to ask her sister later if she had noticed how happy, and even youthful, their father was looking, and wasn’t it strange, that they’d never realized before how much he liked dancing?
The eightsome was followed by ‘The Duke and Duchess of Edinburgh’, then ‘Kate Dalrymple’ and ‘Petronella’, and still Ronan showed no desire to partner anyone other than Lynette, while Torquil stayed with Monnie, and Frank with Ishbel. Was anyone noticing? wondered Lynette. Maybe not. But then her eyes caught Mrs Anderson, who had left Reception and joined the ceilidh, and it was clear enough, from her wry smile, that she had not missed a trick.
What of it? Lynette’s lips curved into a smile. One thing was certain, she was not going to stop dancing with Ronan because people were noticing. He felt the same as she did, she was sure. How could he not, when they were both buoyed up by the special, heady excitement of a possible new relationship? When you say yes, this could be it! And climb together to Cloud Nine, or else go dancing to it.
‘Buffet time,’ Ronan was murmuring. ‘Lynette, I’ll have to dash – check that Scott’s finished setting it all out.’
‘I’ll go with you,’ she said at once. ‘But don’t worry, it’ll be lovely, Scott always knows what he’s doing.’
Sure enough, the buffet table looked splendid, the excellent choices beautifully displayed: cold chicken, cold ham, roast beef, salmon on special dishes, decorated with cucumber and mayonnaise to hand, potato salads, green salads, mounds of rolls, curls of butter, cheeses . . .
And behind it all, ready to serve, Scott with his staff, all bubbling with excitement except Scott himself, whose face under his chef’s hat was distinctly long and whose reproachful eyes on Lynette made her own gaze fall.
‘Scott, this looks wonderful!’ Ronan was saying heartily, ‘Congratulations to you and your team. Well done, all of you!’
But poor Scott, Lynette was thinking, he’s out of all the fun, while we’re enjoying ourselves.
‘When the buffet’s over, you’ll come out and have a dance, won’t you?’ she asked him quietly, but his mouth twisted a little and he shrugged.
‘A dance with you? Sure you can fit me in?’
‘Oh, come
on, Scott! You said you’d dance with me.’
‘I’ll announce the buffet,’ Ronan said, moving off, but Scott was already on his way to the other end of the table, leaving Lynette to stand back before the guests came pouring in.
Thirty-Three
‘Oh, my, what a scrum!’ Frank said happily, as he and Ishbel sat together with their loaded plates. ‘Have you ever seen so many happy faces?’
‘The Talisman buffet is the highlight of the year for a lot of people, my son for one,’ she told him, laughing. ‘I can see him from here – I think he’ll be coming over.’
‘You son will?’ Frank, looking a little put out, laid down his fork. ‘Well, I’d better be quick, then. Just want to tell you, Ishbel, that it’s a long time since I enjoyed myself as much as I have tonight.’
‘I want to say the same thing,’ she answered softly, her eyes meeting his.
‘So, where’s your son, then?’
‘Waiting for Sheana – that’s my daughter-in-law – to finish choosing.’ She leaned forward, touching Frank’s hand lightly. ‘I do want you to meet them both, Frank.’
‘Oh, sure. I want to meet them, too.’
‘And the ceilidh’s not over yet.’
‘That’s the best bit, Ishbel.’
As they began to eat again, their smiles on each other very sweet, guests were filling up plates, laughing, talking, sitting at little tables, some even opting for the floor, though Frank and Ishbel weren’t watching. Didn’t even notice for a time that Monnie and Torquil were close by, with Lynette and Ronan, while Agnes, Tony, Nina and her sister, Jill, were at the next table. Not far away, Mrs Atkinson (now answering to Ailsa) and her husband, John, were sitting with Fionola and a portly hotel guest named Ernest Warner, who was making Lynette smile.
‘Oh, my, do you see the way that guy is looking at Fionola?’ she whispered to Monnie. ‘Maybe he thinks Christmas has come early this year?’
‘Ssh,’ Monnie whispered back. ‘Should you be talking about a hotel guest like that? Ronan might not like it.’
‘Och, he’s nattering to Torquil about the fishing.’ Lynette’e eyes had moved to her father and Ishbel. ‘Monnie, have you ever seen Dad looking so happy?’
‘Not for a long time. He just loves it here, eh?’
But Monnie, who had been smiling affectionately, suddenly stiffened. ‘Oh, help – here comes Mrs Duthie! Hope she doesn’t want to sit with us.’
‘Hello everybody!’ Flushed little Mrs Duthie was already pulling up a chair and sitting down at the table with a plate piled high. ‘Is this not grand, then? What a spread! All thanks to you, Mr Allan!’
‘No, no,’ he was murmuring, but her interest had switched to Monnie and Torquil.
‘Now isn’t it a shame, Monnie, that that nice Mr Soutar had to go to Edinburgh and miss this lovely do? He said to me, he’d never been so sorry. Still, I expect you knew that, eh? Were you not going with him to buy walking boots?’
‘I haven’t been yet,’ Monnie answered curtly, feeling guilty, in spite of her irritation, that she hadn’t given Paul a thought until now.
‘Nice though that he’s going to help you with hill walking, eh? Torquil, you’ll be proud of her, I’m sure?’
‘I am always proud of Monnie,’ Torquil answered, smiling tranquilly, at which Mrs Duthie slightly tossing her head, waved to Tim MacLean, the bus driver, who was walking about with an enormous helping of everything, looking for somewhere to sit.
‘Over here, Tim! We can always fit in another one, eh?’
As Tim obediently squeezed in beside Mrs Duthie, Ronan excused himself to speak to the band, while Lynette and Monnie said they were just going over to speak to their father.
‘Aye, your lovely dad.’ Mrs Duthie sighed deeply. ‘Sitting with Ishbel, eh? That’s her son with her, and daughter-in-law. Son sells fishing tackle, she waits on at the hotel. No children yet. But goodbye, dears, come back soon.’
Interested in meeting Ishbel’s family, Lynette and Monnie took particular notice of the young couple sitting with Frank and Ishbel, who were introduced by Ishbel as her son, Niall, and daughter-in-law, Sheana, from Glenelg.
Niall, tall and lanky, had Ishbel’s fair hair, but his eyes were dark and deeply-set, while Sheana was red-haired and green-eyed, and on the plump side. They greeted the girls pleasantly enough, but were not, Lynette thought, outgoing people. Certainly, Niall hadn’t the social skills of his mother, and very soon rose, saying he and Sheana had better be going back to their own table.
‘Nice to meet you,’ he murmured, giving a nod to Frank. ‘And you, Mr Forester.’
‘Perhaps we’ll meet again,’ he said, rising, as Ishbel, too, stood up, looking apologetic.
‘Oh, yes,’ Niall muttered. ‘We’re often over – have to keep an eye on Mother.’
‘Whatever for?’ she cried indignantly, but the young ones were already on their way, taking their empty plates with them.
‘They’re a little bit shy,’ Ishbel said quickly. ‘Not used to talking to strangers, but they’ve always been very good to me.’
‘Of course, of course.’ The sisters were already looking elsewhere. ‘We’ll see you later, eh, Dad?’
‘Aye, you’ll be wanting a lift back, eh?’
Monnie hesitated. ‘Maybe not. I think Torquil will be taking me home. Tony can take his mother, you see.’
‘How about you, then, Lynette?’
‘I expect I’ll be coming with you.’
‘Are you sure?’ Ishbel asked, smiling. ‘Mr Allan has a car.’
‘Mr Allan lives at the hotel,’ Lynette replied lightly, glad to return with Monnie to their table, where Ronan and Torquil were waiting, though Mrs Duthie and Tim had departed.
‘Mustn’t miss our desserts,’ Ronan told them. ‘They look gorgeous – Scott’s excelled himself tonight.’
‘I really should dance with Scott after this,’ Lynette remarked as they helped themselves to chocolate soufflé. ‘I don’t see him now, but he’ll probably appear after the buffet’s over.’
But when the buffet was over and the dancing had begun again, there was no sign of Scott, and Brigid rather accusingly told Lynette and Ronan that he was exhausted and had gone off to his bed.
‘Poor laddie, he’s had so much to do, while everybody else has been having a good time, eh?’
‘Not everybody,’ Lynette said defensively. ‘You were working too, Brigid.’
‘Aye, but the buffet was not my responsibility, was it? And anyway, I’m going dancing now.’
As Brigid was whirled on to the floor by a young man who had been hovering, Ronan looked at Lynette.
‘Scott’s not really exhausted, you know, he loves his work, it never tires him. He’s just upset, not to be with you.’
‘Oh, look, I said I’d dance with him! I wanted him to join us!’
‘I think you know what I mean,’ Ronan answered steadily.
‘They’re forming the sets for the next reel,’ she said after a moment.
‘Maybe we could sit it out?’
‘No, I think we should dance it.’
‘You’re afraid of people noticing?’
‘No! Are you?’
‘Haven’t shown much sign of it up to now, have I?’
She looked at him with sudden objectivity, setting apart her own feelings. ‘I bet some people will be surprised, eh?’
‘Why?’
‘Because you’re the manager. It’s your job to care what people think.’
‘Not about everything.’
His voice was soft, his unusual eyes never moving from her face.
‘I wish I could ask you what you mean,’ she began, but he shook his head.
‘They’re forming the sets, we’ll have to go.’
As they ran to take the last places for ‘Hamilton House’, he managed to whisper, ‘May I take you home tonight, Lynette? I have my car outside.’
‘Do you have to ask?’ Her eyes were shining. ‘I’ll tell Dad not to wa
it for me.’
He would only have Ishbel for a passenger, she thought, as the dance began, for Monnie was being driven home by Torquil. How strange, that both she and her sister had got what they wanted. Even stranger, was that what she wanted was Ronan Allan. How had it happened? How had it come about? One thing for sure was that dancing a Scottish reel was not the time to be pondering on it. But the question, she knew, would come back to her and fascinate her, as the handsome face of the man opposite fascinated her now.
The dance ended, and by midnight, the evening had ended, too. Ronan had to make another little speech, drawing the gathering to a close and thanking everyone for coming. ‘Auld Lang Syne’ was sung, there was applause for the band, then it was over. Except for those looking forward to what would follow. An evening was not over, after all, until the journey home had been made, and goodnights had been said. Particularly, goodnights to certain people.
‘All set?’ Frank asked Ishbel, helping her into her coat. ‘There’s just you and me going back. Hope I don’t have to change a wheel again.’
‘Hope not,’ she agreed, with a nervous little laugh. ‘I see Agnes is giving Monnie and Torquil a send off.’
‘Aye, Tony’s taking her home.’
‘Now you two take care,’ Agnes was saying, smiling broadly. ‘And don’t drive into the Sound by mistake, eh?’
‘Hey, I am not drunk!’ Torquil exclaimed, opening the door to his van for Monnie. ‘At least, not with alcohol.’
Oh, just let’s go, thought Monnie. Let’s be on our own, please!
And they did go, followed by Ronan and Lynette in Ronan’s large Wolseley, and a little later by Frank and Ishbel, as Agnes waved and murmured to Tony, ‘Guess they’ll all be taking the long road home, eh?’
‘There is no long road home,’ said Tony. ‘Mind if I squash in Nina, Mother? Means we’ll have to go to Glenelg first, but Jill’s gone off with some guy she knows and Nina’s on her own.’
‘Seems like you’ve found a long way home, anyway,’ his mother told him tartly. ‘Better drop me off on the way.’
And Tony’s battered Morris took its place in the convoy leaving the Talisman, the red tail lights of the cars ahead glinting through the darkness, their headlights picking out the grass verges and hedges, hostellers walking back, and one or two startled rabbits leaping away.
Anne Douglas Page 16
