Anne Douglas

by The Wardens Daughters

  ‘Maybe you are.’

  ‘But aren’t you, Lynette? You’ve got your job – and Ronan.’

  ‘True. But things are going to be different now, aren’t they?’

  ‘I suppose so. Can’t help feeling sorry for Dad, you know, and Ishbel. They’re so happy to have found each other, but now it’s all been spoiled.’

  ‘They couldn’t expect it to be easy. Families count for something. We have to be happy about it, too.’

  Monnie sighed, then brightened. ‘Thank goodness I’m going walking with Paul tomorrow. Up in the hills, everything gets put into perspective.’

  ‘And Torquil? When are you seeing him?’

  ‘At the weekend, I expect.’ Monnie’s bright look had faded. ‘Look, let’s see what’s happening in the common room. I’m responsible for order, when Dad’s not here.’

  But as they hurried through the house, Monnie had one last question for her sister. ‘If you’re not settled here, Lynette, what will you do?’

  ‘Do? I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it.’

  In the common room, of course, there was no time for thinking, and as the girls mingled with the young hostellers, Lynette being persuaded to have a go at snooker, Monnie to play a game of dominoes, it was soothing to know they could shelve their troubles, at least for the rest of the evening.

  Fifty-Two

  While Monnie put things into perspective on top of the Hill of Scree above Loch Hourn, Paul a sympathetic listener at her side, Lynette was walking with Ronan on the strip of shore below the hotel gardens. She had asked him to meet her at lunchtime, when the guests would all be in the restaurant, telling him she thought they ought to talk.

  ‘Talk?’ The eyes she found so fascinating lit up. ‘I hope this is going to be talk I want to hear?’

  ‘I hope so,’ she answered seriously.

  ‘You’re going to give me my answer?’

  ‘And a question.’

  The light in his eyes had died. ‘Not sure I like the sound of that, Lynette.’

  ‘Just come down to the shore, Ronan.’

  ‘Nothing would keep me away.’

  There they were, then, walking on the narrow sand, the waters of the Sound within a pebble’s throw, the mountains opposite without cloud. Lynette and Ronan, however, were not looking at the scenery.

  ‘There’s a bench here,’ Ronan murmured. ‘Let’s sit down.’

  ‘Think I’ll have a cigarette,’ Lynette said, as they sat together, both checking to see if anyone was in the gardens, watching, but turning back, satisfied that they were unobserved.

  ‘No smoking,’ Ronan said firmly. ‘You smoke too much, my darling. I’m going to see you cut it down.’

  ‘It settles my nerves.’

  ‘What nerves?’ He laughed. ‘You have no nerves.’

  ‘How can you say that? I was like a jelly when you interviewed me, remember?’

  ‘Don’t remind me of that interview. Anyway, you gave no sign.’ He folded her hand in his. ‘Come on, then, let’s talk.’

  ‘You’re not feeling too hungry? You’re missing lunch.’

  ‘As though I care about lunch when you want to talk to me.’

  When it came to it, however, she was hesitating, feeling the nerves he said she didn’t have.

  ‘A piece of news first,’ she told him, lightly stroking his hand. ‘My dad is going to marry Ishbel MacNicol.’

  ‘Why, Lynette, that’s wonderful! You must be delighted. Ishbel’s a fine person.’

  ‘Delighted?’ Lynette frowned. ‘We thought he would never want to replace our mother.’

  ‘I can understand why you’d think that, but time passes, doesn’t it? Your father’s been alone for years and a man needs a wife.’ Ronan’s grip tightened on Lynette’s fingers. ‘I know I do.’

  ‘The point is, that we’re not really needed now. We only came up to the Highlands to be with Dad, we didn’t want him starting a new life on his own. And now he’s not going to be on his own, so we can think again.’

  Pulling her hand suddenly away from his, Lynette took a deep breath.

  ‘I do want to marry you, Ronan,’ she began, and as he gave a quick shuddering sigh, added quickly, ‘but I don’t want to live here.’

  Their eyes locked together, they sat still as a pair of decorative statues, their lips parted, no words coming.

  At last, Ronan moved, still keeping his eyes on Lynette, and took out his handkerchief, touching it to his brow.

  ‘You want to marry me? You did say that, Lynette?’

  ‘That was my answer.’

  ‘And the question is?

  ‘Will you come with me to Edinburgh?’

  Replacing his handkerchief in his breast pocket, Ronan stood up and began to walk up and down in front of Lynette on the bench, but saying nothing. After watching him for a few moments, she jumped to her feet.

  ‘Ronan, aren’t you going to say something?’

  He stopped, looking into her face. ‘What can I say? You know it’s not possible for me to come with you to Edinburgh.’

  ‘Why? Why is it not possible?’

  ‘Because my work is here, my life is here. I can’t imagine living anywhere else. I told you that once, didn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, and I know you love this place, it means a lot to you. But then you say you love me too.’

  ‘I do love you. I want you to marry me and you’ve said you will.’

  ‘I will, but not here. I want us to go to the city and make our lives there. You’d have no trouble finding a post in Edinburgh, Ronan, you’d be snapped up for one of the hotels straight away.’ Lynette moved towards him, taking his hands. ‘And it’d be so different there. So full of life!’

  ‘You think there’s no life here?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Oh, yes, of course, but it’s different, eh? Listen, I think this part of the world is the most beautiful I know, but it’s not my world, you see. It’s somewhere I can admire and enjoy, but I just feel all the time as though I’m passing through. On holiday, sort of thing.’

  ‘That would change,’ he said eagerly, taking her in his arms. ‘Once you realized it was your home – and it would be, with me – you’d settle down, grow to love it as I do. Oh, God, Lynette, you wouldn’t turn me down for Edinburgh, would you?’

  She was silent in the circle of his arms, and he gently turned her face to his. ‘Tell me, you wouldn’t,’ he said softly. ‘You love me, you have to be with me.’

  ‘Couldn’t I say the same thing to you, Ronan? If you love me, you’ll follow me, wherever I go, won’t you?’

  He dropped his arms and stood without speaking, his face taking on its old sombre look. He looked at his watch. ‘Time to go,’ he said huskily. ‘We must just talk again, Lynette.’

  ‘What will change?’ she whispered, and he gave a twisted smile.

  ‘One of us. One of us will have to give in.’

  ‘It’s not a question of giving in! It’s a question of wanting – wanting to do what the other person wants.’

  He shrugged. ‘I call that giving in. Let’s go, Lynette. I have to make some phone calls.’

  ‘Will you have time for a sandwich?’

  ‘I don’t feel like anything. How about you?’

  She shook her head. ‘Fionola’s had lunch, but I’d better get back to the desk with her. We’re pretty busy at the moment.’

  In fact, Lynette did not go straight back to Reception. As soon as she’d seen Ronan disappear into his office, she went through the glass side door into the gardens, where she lit a cigarette and sat down on a wrought iron seat. Which was where Scott found her a little while later.

  ‘Lynette, this is a bit of luck!’ He sat down beside her, lighting one of his own cigarettes and smiling happily, until he more clearly saw her face.

  ‘Hey, you’re upset. What’s up? Is this why you’re not at the desk?’

  ‘I should be,’ she murmured. ‘But I needed something to get me there.’ She dabbed at her e
yes with her handkerchief. ‘Thing is, I’ve had a disagreement with Ronan.’

  ‘Music to my ears. Tell me more.’

  ‘You won’t like it.’

  ‘Try me.’

  ‘Well, some time ago, he asked me to marry him – you probably know that.’

  ‘Guessed.’

  ‘Today, I said yes.’

  Scott looked at his cigarette. ‘And? Come on, what went wrong? You wouldn’t be sitting here like this if everything was all right.’

  ‘No. What happened was that I said I’d marry him if he came to Edinburgh with me.’ Lynette rested her blue eyes on Scott’s closely attentive face. ‘Maybe it sounds selfish, but I think I’ve always known at the back of my mind that I couldn’t settle here. Monnie’s different. She’s like Dad, she loves it. But now my dad is going to marry Ishbel and there’s no real need for me to be here any more.’

  ‘Your dad’s going to marry Ishbel? Good for him. And her. I hope they’ll be very happy. But is that what’s spurred you on, to go home?’ He stubbed out his cigarette. ‘Or, was it seeing Edinburgh again?’

  ‘Both, I think. Scott, I just know I don’t want to live all my life in the Highlands, but when I spoke to Ronan, he told me he could never leave.’

  ‘Even to be with you?’

  ‘Even to be with me. But then, it’s true, I’m not prepared to stay here for him.’

  Scott said softly, ‘I’d go anywhere for you. You know that, eh?’

  She nodded, rising, throwing away her half-smoked cigarette.

  ‘And you know what that means?’ Scott stood close. ‘Means that you two don’t love each other enough to do what I would do.’

  Her face twisting in pain, she shook her head. ‘I do love Ronan, Scott. I do. And he loves me.’

  ‘And neither of you will do what the other one wants? Lynette, think about it.’

  ‘Just now, I don’t want to think about anything.

  As she moved hurriedly away, he stayed where he was. ‘You’ll see, I’m right,’ he called after her. ‘Come to me when you do.’

  There were guests approaching, looking with interest at the chef in his whites, who was away from his kitchen, and at the pretty girl from Reception opening the glass door. Drama, eh? But by the time they drew nearer, both chef and receptionist had gone.

  When Paul brought weary Monnie back to the gates of the hostel, he stopped the car and gave her a light pat on the back.

  ‘Well done. It’s a tough climb, that one, tougher than people think, but you managed well. I told you, you’re a natural.’

  ‘I feel stiff as a board already. Be worse tomorrow, I expect.’ Monnie opened the car door and smiled as she slowly prepared herself to get out. ‘But I’m so grateful to you, Paul. Not just for the climb, but for listening to me, bending your ear all the way to the top of the hill.’

  ‘Nae bother, as they say. But I’ll tell you something interesting. You talked about your dad and Ishbel, you talked about Lynette, but you never once mentioned Torquil.’

  ‘No reason why I should mention him, is there?’

  ‘He’s important to you. I thought his name might have come up. After all, you’ve talked of him before.’

  ‘There’s nothing new to say. We are still seeing each other.’

  ‘And everything’s the same?’

  ‘It’s the same.’

  He gave her a long steady look which only made her own gaze fall, until finally he sighed and switched on his engine.

  ‘I’ll give you a ring, shall I? How about Skye next time?’

  ‘Skye? Paul, that’d be terrific!’ The change of subject brought a smile to her face. ‘Can we really go to Skye?’

  ‘Sure, why not?’

  When she’d thanked him again for the day, he waved and drove off, leaving her to make her way stiffly to the hostel, her thoughts already back with Torquil. It had been the truth she’d told Paul about their continuing relationship. There was nothing different to say. Nothing had changed. How could it?

  As she sank into a chair in the hall of the hostel, she felt his hold over her as strong as ever. And whatever happened in the future, she could not see herself being free.

  Fifty-Three

  As August moved into September, Ishbel, it was clear to Frank, was losing heart. She tried to put a brave face on things, but there seemed no solution to the impasse Niall had created. He had not replied to the letters she had written, he had not made any effort to come round and ‘talk’, which she saw as their only hope of a settlement. And when Frank suggested they should just get married anyway, she shrank away from any such plan.

  ‘Oh, no, Frank, I could never do that. I’d have to feel our families wanted our happiness, otherwise everything would be ruined. All our new life together.’

  ‘I have the feeling that Monnie and Lynette are not going to put any difficulties in our way,’ Frank said, trying to sound hopeful, and Ishbel replied that it would be wonderful if that were true.

  Not wonderful enough, Frank knew, if Niall still held out, but at least it would be a start, eh? And one day Lynette and Monnie did put their arms round Ishbel and told her that if she was going to make their father happy, they wanted to welcome her to their family. At which, there were tears all round, and promises from Ishbel that they need never worry – making their father happy was all she wanted to do.

  Afterwards, Lynette told Monnie she was glad they’d made the move to accept Ishbel.

  ‘Was worth it to see her face and Dad’s, eh? Like sunshine after rain, and all thanks to you, Monnie. You were the one with the soft heart.’

  ‘I felt in the end that Dad was right. Ma wouldn’t have wanted him to be alone all his life. And I do believe he’ll never forget her. Same as Ishbel won’t forget her Robbie.’

  ‘Now we just need Niall to come round, though I feel he’ll be the sort that doesn’t want to have to climb down. May take some time, and Dad and Ishbel are wanting to get wed.’

  ‘Poor things. At least, we’ve done our bit.’

  ‘Poor things,’ said Ishbel, of her future stepdaughters. ‘They’ve made us happy, Frank, but I can tell they’re not happy themselves. Have they said anything to you?’

  ‘Not a word. And I know better than to ask.’

  That September Sunday afternoon when they were together at the hostel was as warm and dry as any summer’s day, and Frank, feeling guilty, said maybe he should do some gardening. Monnie’d been very helpful, but now she was out with Torquil and Lynette at work, which meant, Frank groaned, it was up to him to get on with it. Not that he was much of a gardener.

  ‘I am,’ Ishbel cried. ‘I’ll help.’

  ‘Och, you do too much, you need a rest.’

  ‘I hate resting. Come on, let’s find the tools. And are there any hats?’ Ishbel laughed. ‘It is not always that we need sun hats here, is it?’

  They spent the next couple of hours weeding, stripping out dead wood, mowing the lawn and watering, feeling perfectly in tune working with each other as helpmates, and were standing together, arm in arm, admiring what they’d done, when a car drew up at the end of the drive. No one got out and for a time neither Frank nor Ishbel noticed it, until Ishbel, carrying a bag of grass clippings for the compost heap at the rear of the hostel, stopped and caught her breath.

  ‘Niall?’ she whispered. ‘Is it Niall?’

  She knew it was Niall, for she could see him, and of course by now had recognized his car, but she still couldn’t believe he’d come at last. As he left the driving seat and came slowly up the drive towards her, she felt so dazed, so nervous, she dropped her bag of clippings at her feet and stood looking down at it as though she couldn’t think what to do.

  ‘Oh, Mother!’ Niall muttered, stooping to gather up the clippings that had burst from the bag over her feet.

  ‘Oh, Mother!’ Sheana echoed, joining him from the car and moving the bag to the side of the drive.

  ‘Not like you to go dropping things,’ Niall said, brushing le
aves from his fingers and fixing his mother with a long dark stare.

  ‘Not like you at all,’ said Sheana.

  She was rather pink in the face and obviously feeling the heat, as she pushed back her ginger hair and gave Ishbel a wary smile.

  Ishbel, seeing the smile, felt her heart leap. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you,’ she murmured. ‘I never thought you’d come.’

  ‘We thought we would.’ Niall was looking about him. ‘Where’s Frank, then?’

  ‘He was here a moment ago.’ Ishbel, recovering herself a little, called his name.

  ‘We know, we saw you both from the car.’

  ‘We didn’t see you.’

  ‘Too busy looking at the garden.’

  ‘Well, we’ve done well, haven’t we?’

  ‘Here’s Frank!’ cried Sheana. ‘Hello, there, Mr Forester.’

  ‘Please, make it Frank,’ he muttered, looking mystified.

  ‘Where’ve you been?’ Ishbel asked. ‘You disappeared.’

  ‘I . . . went to put the kettle on.’

  ‘Get you,’ said Sheana. ‘So useful, eh?’

  He was keeping out of the way, thought Ishbel. Being tactful . . .

  ‘Shall we all have tea out here?’ she asked.

  ‘If that’s all right,’ Niall said, and, her leaping heart taking wings, Ishbel said she’d go and make it.

  ‘Want any help?’ asked Sheana.

  ‘No, no, you sit down, dear. Frank, aren’t there some garden chairs somewhere?’

  ‘In the garage, I’ll get them.’

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ offered Niall.

  The four of them, wearing cotton hats and balancing in ancient basket chairs, sat on the lawn at the front of the house, drinking tea and eating Ishbel’s buttered scones and melting chocolate cake, talking stiltedly, smiling edgily, until silence fell.

  ‘I’ll take this lot out of the way of the wasps,’ said Frank, gathering the tea things on to a tray, and Sheana said she’d go with him. Which left Niall and Ishbel sitting together, Ishbel fanning herself with her hat, to give her hands something to do, Niall looking around as though the newly tidied garden was of absorbing interest. Suddenly, he turned to his mother.