‘Would you like to apply?’ Frank asked Ishbel gently. ‘Work with me, eh?’
‘Frank, I’d love it!’
‘But what about your shop? You run it so well, you’d be a terrible miss.’
‘I haven’t been in to it with her, but I’m sure Sheana would take it on, and she and Niall could have the cottage too. It’s no distance for Niall to drive into Glenelg for his job.’
‘And maybe you could still do a bit of cooking for it,’ Frank said cheerfully. ‘The village wouldn’t like to lose your pies, you know.’
‘I’d find a way,’ Ishbel agreed happily.
‘Things seem to be working out, eh?’ In spite of the words, Frank was suddenly serious again, his eyes fixed on Lynette. ‘But what I haven’t figured out yet is why you wanted to go back to Edinburgh in the first place, Lynette. Was it seeing it again, that time we went back?’
‘Partly.’ She was shifting uncomfortably in her chair. ‘Look, I have something to tell you as well. I’ve split up with Ronan.’
‘Oh, no!’ Ishbel wailed. ‘You have never given up the lovely Mr Allan? Oh, no, I cannot believe it.’
‘Nor me,’ Frank muttered. ‘What the devil did you find wrong with him, then? Seems to me he was perfect for you. A catch some would say, eh?’
‘Thanks,’ Lynette said coldly. ‘Why shouldn’t I be the catch? The thing is, we discovered that we wanted different things. He wants to stay in the Highlands, I want to go back to the city. Neither of us will budge, so that’s it. End of the affair.’
‘You want the city?’ Frank stared. ‘But you just said how much you’ve enjoyed it here in the Highlands.’
‘Yes, as a place to visit, to stay for a time.’ Lynette lowered her eyes from her father’s wondering face. ‘But when it comes to living . . . Dad, I’m for the bright lights. I can’t change, I wish I could, but it’s just the way I am.’
‘And we thought you were so happy here,’ Ishbel sighed.
‘I was. I mean, I am, but, as I say, not for ever.’ Lynette looked up. ‘You do understand, eh?’
‘Looks like we’ll have to.’ Frank stood up. ‘But I must get back to work. Ishbel, I’ll see you after I’ve checked round, OK?’ Moving to the door, he looked back at his daughters, his face seeming to crumple.
‘Have you thought how much we’re going to miss you?’
‘Oh, don’t!’ cried Monnie, running to him.
‘As though we’re not going to miss you!’ said Lynette, following.
And for a few moments, the three Foresters stood together, arms around one another, as Ishbel tactfully began to clear the table.
‘Better go,’ Frank said huskily, and went his way with Monnie, her lip trembling, in tow, while Lynette, after blowing her nose and straightening her shoulders, came to help Ishbel.
Fifty-Nine
Things seemed to be working out, Frank had said, and this seemed to be the case when first, Ishbel was appointed his assistant without even an interview, and next, their wedding was fixed for a date in late October.
‘So, we know where we are,’ Lynette told Monnie. ‘I can put my notice in and arrange to leave with you after the honeymoon. We can’t leave before, because you’re going to look after the hostel for the time they’re away.’
‘That will only be for a few days. They don’t want to be away too long. Especially as they’re leaving Sheana in charge of the shop.’
‘As Dad says, though, things seem to be working out. Except that you look as though the furies are after you. You’ll really have to pull yourself together, you know.’
‘It’s just the strain of not telling Torquil until the last minute. I can’t help worrying how he’ll take it. He’s so unpredictable.’
‘And my big fear is that he’ll persuade you to stay. When the chips are down, are you sure you can hold out?’
‘Yes. I’ve made up my mind.’ Monnie’s face was pale and set. ‘I know what I want to do and I’ll do it.’
‘Stick to that. And while we’re preparing to depart, let’s not forget Scott. He’s got to get to work on refurbishing his new restaurant as soon as he can get away.’
‘He’s told Ronan he’s going?’
‘Oh, yes, he’s put his notice in and it looks as though Hamish is going to get his job.’
But at the mention of Ronan’s name, Lynette’s face had taken on a closed expression and Monnie said no more. She knew her sister was finding it difficult to work out her last weeks at the Talisman, keeping out of Ronan’s way, while making sure that all would go well for Fionola who was taking over her job.
‘Changes all round,’ she’d told Monnie with a shrug. ‘It’s an ill wind, as they say, that does nobody any good.’
And Fionola, it seemed, was not finding the wind that was blowing her way in the least an ill one; Lynette said she was looking more beautiful than ever. Monnie, however, could really only think of her own situation. Of when she could tell Torquil that she was leaving him. And of what he would say.
In the suddenly brilliant days of autumn, when the Highlands had never looked so spectacular and Monnie was feeling homesick for them before she’d even left, it was ironic that Torquil seemed gentler and sweeter than he’d been for some time.
More like he’d been in the early days, Monnie would have said, except that when she looked back on those early days, she’d remembered he’d been on occasion quite offhand and even uncaring. Take the first time they’d been out together, when he’d said he must meet his brother and had brought her home early. She’d been upset and he hadn’t understood why, just as he hadn’t understood why she’d been upset over the gulls’ eggs incident.
As she had told Lynette, he was unpredictable, that was all that could be said. For here he was, being so kind and thoughtful, even losing his worrying watchfulness, so that she really couldn’t fault him. Now would be the time to tell him, she decided. Why wait?
‘No, no, Monnie, don’t tell him yet,’ Lynette still warned. ‘Wait till nearer the wedding. Do some nice fell walking with Paul to take your mind off things, if he can spare the time from his climbing school. I still can’t believe that he’s bought the old Altair, you know.’
But Paul was too tied up with architects and builders to go fell walking, though he promised he would arrange it as soon possible.
‘Oh, you bet I won’t want to lose time with you if you’re leaving so soon,’ he told Monnie fervently. ‘I’ll be in touch.’
Leaving so soon? The words sounded a knell, and Monnie knew that whatever Lynette said, she would have to break her news to Torquil and put herself out of her misery. Better to let the sword fall, than have to picture it permanently poised over her neck.
Meanwhile, as she agonized over her dilemma, plans were going ahead for her father’s wedding. As Ishbel had requested, the ceremony was to be in the Glenelg kirk, to be followed by lunch at a local cafe. Everything, in fact, was to be low key, though there would be a good attendance of guests, all Ishbel’s friends and neighbours having been invited, even if Frank’s Edinburgh cronies were too far away to attend. As long as his girls were present, he declared, they would be all he wanted, and of course both were to be present, as the wedding was to be early and Monnie could be back at the hostel in time for the return of the hostellers.
‘Next day, it’ll be our turn to steam away,’ Lynette reminded Monnie, though the reminder brought her no cheer. In a way, it was a relief to be with Torquil himself one Saturday afternoon, when she could say what she had to say.
Sixty
They had driven to their favourite woods that were now a riot of colour, as the late afternoon sun lingered on the deciduous trees and set them sparkling against the evergreens.
‘How beautiful!’ Monnie cried. ‘I’ll always remember these woods.’
‘Remember?’ Torquil, having parked on a rutted pathway, turned to look at her. ‘That is a strange thing to say.’
‘Is it?’
‘Why, yes. You sound as
though you won’t be here to see them.’
Her head jerked up, her hands trembled, for this was the perfect opening for her, all that she could have wanted, and it had come before he began to kiss her, when she knew she would be in danger of losing herself in the delight he gave.
‘I won’t be,’ she brought out, not daring to look away from him. ‘I mean, I won’t be here, Torquil. Things have changed for me, since my father and Ishbel decided to marry. There’s no place for me at the hostel now, and Lynette and I . . . we’re going home.’
The silence between them stretched and stretched. His eyes on her were grave. Why didn’t he speak? Monnie was desperate for his reaction, but he said nothing.
‘I know I said I’d never leave you,’ she hurried on. ‘But, like I say, the situation’s different, I have to go. With my sister. We’re going home together.’
As she fell silent again, Torquil, reaching out to take her hand, spoke at last. ‘You did say you would never leave me, Monnie. I believed you.’
‘But I’ve told you how things are, Torquil. You must see, that I should go.’ She looked down at her hand in his. ‘After all, you’ve never . . . never said we should be together permanently.’
‘Be married, you mean?’ He smiled. ‘Things move slowly in the Highlands. Who says we would not have got around to it?’
‘I think we should both face facts,’ she murmured, marvelling at her own bravery. ‘We might not be really right for each other. I mean, I’m a Lowlander.’
‘And you think I should have a Highland girl?’ He gave a long deep sigh. ‘Perhaps you’re right. If it’s what you really feel, that we are not suited, yes, you must be. It takes two to be happy, suited.’
‘Yes,’ she cried, breathing hard. ‘Yes, it takes two.’
‘In that case . . .’
Torquil started up the engine of his van and began to back out along the narrow track.
‘In that case, I’ll take you home.’
‘Take me home?’ She was mystified.
‘Take you home, and let you go.’ He shrugged, as they came out on to the road and turned for Conair. ‘What else can I do, my darling Monnie? I cannot hold you, if you do not want to be held.’
Am I dreaming? she thought. Can it be true what’s happening? He’s letting me go?
‘Only thing, if we have to say goodbye, I do not know if I can do that now.’ He gave her a quick look. ‘Shall we have one last meeting, before you go?’
‘Oh, yes. Yes, Torquil. One last meeting.’
‘On Friday?’
‘Aren’t you working on Friday?’
‘No, I’m taking the day off. Taking advantage of this weather.’
‘Well, Friday afternoon would be fine for me. Where shall we go?’
‘We’ll think of somewhere. Somewhere special. I’ll call for you, then.’
‘I’ll be waiting.’
When he drew up at the gate to the hostel, she thought they would kiss and she would have to be very strong to draw away, but he only smiled an affectionate smile and got out to open the door for her.
‘Till Friday, Monnie.’
‘Friday. But Torquil, what about our fish that day?’
‘I can bring it later. Don’t worry about it.’
When she began to walk up the drive, she looked back once to see if he was waiting, but his van had already gone. Still, she found it hard to believe, that she had told him; it was done, and the sky had not fallen in. How had it happened? Had all she said got through to him? That they weren’t really suited? He’d be happier with a Highland girl?
All she knew was that her head was splitting, and she was glad the hostellers were soon due back, so that she could fling herself into work and speak to no one. In fact, some were already back and had scattered boots about and dropped their rucksacks in the hall.
‘Hey!’ she called up the stairs. ‘Come on, now! Anyone who’s left stuff down here, please come and take it away.’
‘You back already?’ Frank asked, putting his head round his office door. ‘Everything all right?’
‘Fine, thanks, fine. Just sorting this lot out.’
‘That’s the ticket!’
Sixty-One
By midweek, the weather had begun to change. The sun was hidden behind cloud, the golden colours had faded; rain was forecast.
‘Not so good for an outing,’ Frank remarked, as Monnie waited for Torquil on Friday afternoon.
‘We’ll be all right. Probably just go for a drive.’
‘I thought you’d said goodbye to him. Why go out again?’
‘This is our real goodbye.’
Hope so, thought Frank, as Torquil arrived, dismissing worries over the weather. He knew the look of the sky, it would be clear again before long.
‘Ideal for a trip to my special place,’ he added.
‘Your special place?’ Frank repeated. ‘Not your island again?’
‘No, no. Monnie will know.’
‘Take care, then.’
‘Of course.’ Torquil raised his hand in salute. ‘Special care, for a special place.’
‘And I know this special place?’ Monnie asked, when they had left the village.
‘Sure you do. Remember when I told you how I liked to take my rowing boat out on Loch Hourn and just sit in peace, looking at the mountains?’
‘We’re going in your rowing boat?’ Monnie’s heart was plummeting. ‘I’m not sure I want another boat trip.’
‘This will not be like our last one, sweetheart. This one will be very quiet, very peaceful. Just a little row on the loch so that you can think of me in my favourite place, when you are far away.’
‘Odd, you’ve never taken me there before.’
‘Well, you went there with Paul Soutar, didn’t you? I never thought the time was right for you to go with me, until now.’
‘Paul says the loch can be treacherous in bad weather,’ she said in a low voice. ‘It may not be fine enough today.’
‘Trust me, it will be just what we want.’
Perhaps not surprisingly, Torquil, the fisherman, used to watching the weather, was right. By the time they arrived at the loch and parked on the narrow shore, there were patches of blue breaking up the greyness of the sky, and even a ray or two of thin sunlight. No need, then to worry, thought Monnie, who had rather hoped there might be cause to persuade Torquil not to take his boat out. After all, it was pleasant enough here, with the quiet cottages and their friendly smoke showing signs of life, even though no people were visible.
‘Perfect,’ Torquil was murmuring. ‘The water is calm, Monnie, you will have no need to fear, and we shall not be out long.’
‘The mountains seem so dark, looking down,’ she said shivering.
‘Ach, they are splendid and the sun will be on them soon. Come, give me your hand. Here’s my boat ready for us at the jetty. Just an ordinary rowing boat, as you can see.’
He helped her into her seat, on which there was one shabby cushion, then sat down himself to take the oars.
‘All right?’ Lit by a smile, his face, so wonderfully handsome, made her catch her breath. It was partly this face that had held her in thrall, but there had been more to his power over her than just good looks. She had never really been able to analyse it, had only been willing to yield, until in the recent weeks, she had somehow found the strength to know she must make the break. As she nodded in answer to his question and they began to move smoothly over the water, she felt a great thankfulness that she had achieved what she wanted. The break had been made. Now all that remained was the last goodbye.
‘No spin drifts to cause great waves today,’ she said lightly.
They had reached the centre of the loch and Torquil, resting on his oars, was no longer smiling.
‘Only from you.’
‘Me? What do you mean?’
‘Do you not think that you have been causing great waves for me?’
‘How could I do that?’ She was glancing around at the d
arkness of the mountains, the silent water. She had begun to shiver.
‘Spin drifts upset boats. You have upset me, by leaving me.’ He leaned a little towards her. ‘Monnie, people do not leave me. I might leave them, they do not leave me. You are the first.’
‘You – you said you couldn’t hold me, if I didn’t want to be held.’
‘Did I say that?’ He trailed an oar in the water. ‘That was not like me.’
‘You did say it.’
‘But is it true, that you do not want to be held? Are you sure, you want me to let you go?’
It was growing colder now, with a chill wind rising, and the surface of the water, no longer calm, was moving in widening ripples, slapping the sides of the boat. Aware of that and of her situation, Monnie, her teeth chattering, was beset by fear, but she would not answer him. She would not say what he was waiting to hear.
‘Monnie!’ He was still leaning towards her, his eyes seeming to shine, even glitter, his smile eager. ‘Monnie, why are you not answering? Are you afraid? Afraid to admit you want to stay with me? Come on, it is all nonsense, eh, this going away? Girls do it, I know. Play hard to get. Make men give them what they want.’
He held out a hand to her, which she did not take.
‘Is it marriage you want, Monnie? OK, we’ll be married. I am willing, very willing, and, as you know, it is what my mother wants—’
‘Torquil,’ Monnie interrupted, her voice as clear as she could make it, though she could not disguise its tremor. ‘I don’t want to marry you. I just want to go away. I have to, you see, I have to leave you, and I’m sorry, really sorry, if you’re upset and disappointed in me.’ She swallowed, feeling her throat thick with tears, while keeping her eyes fixed on Torquil, who was now sitting back in his seat, his face blank of any expression.
‘It’s a shame things didn’t work out,’ she was desperately struggling on. ‘They should have done, we were so happy, weren’t we? There were some lovely times. Oh, please, Torquil, can we go back now?’
Anne Douglas Page 28
