Edinburgh Excursion

by Lucilla Andrews

  ‘Meggy didn’t disclose the precise nature of your problem, though I gathered your cycle had been visited by disaster unparalleled.’ He stooped to investigate. ‘Ride over a nail?’

  ‘It’s no a puncture!’ The older boy had answered. ‘It’s but the valve-rubber that’s perished, and she’s no spare! Daft! No spares!’

  I said firmly, ‘It really doesn’t matter. I shall enjoy pushing it back on this glorious evening.’

  ‘It’ll no last!’ Cassandra Junior was at it again. ‘There’s a haar coming. My dad says.’

  ‘A what? Oh, yes. A sea-mist. Surely,’ I appealed to Charles, ‘not yet?’

  He straightened and dusted his hands. ‘I shouldn’t wonder.’ From his manner the immediate destruction of the world would occasion him no surprise, but considerable relief. ‘This is a low-lying area, and the air smells of an incipient haar. I can run you back and your cycle can go on the open boot’ ‒ he glanced at Meggy ‒ ‘as our mutual friend informed me when she again diced with death by leaping in front of my bonnet as I was driving off.’ Meggy was now successfully ordering Cassandra Junior to wheel my bike round the far side of the block. ‘From that child’s determination to raise help for the Nurrrsie fra England, one Scottish Nat. less to ruffle the Union of the Crowns when she grows up.’

  Thinking he was joking, I smiled. ‘We English are dead crafty. Like they say, “catch ’em young enough and you catch ’em for life”.’

  That evoked the dourest glance I had collected since crossing the Border. ‘Quite.’

  I wondered whether to explain I was being facetious, then decided that would be even more tactless. ‘Thanks for offering this lift. You’re sure it won’t take you out of your way?’

  ‘I’ve finished for the day and was just going back. I usually finish around this time. We live in the same building. No bother.’ His tone contradicted his words. ‘But to spare yourself this problem in future you might be well advised to invest a couple of bob in valve-rubbers.’

  ‘I’ll do that.’ I did not explain it was Gemmie’s bike or my errand to Archie Brown, partly as I couldn’t be bothered, partly as, in his present mood, he’d probably read it as another fiendish English plan to undermine Scotland’s right to home rule.

  I watched his face as we drove back in silence. His expression was giving nothing away, but he couldn’t hide the intelligence, the sensitivity, or the toughness. When it came to a straight choice, I mused, his intellect would always win over his emotions, but not without a great deal of mental trauma. I suspected that was what was really bugging him now. In any affair, if one wanted out, the only intelligent thing was to let him or her go ‒ but it hurt.

  I was sorry for him, if glad for myself that I had worked this out. Otherwise the atmospheric silence would have wholly convinced me I was personally responsible for the original construction of the Flodden Wall.

  Chapter Eight

  We walked up the four flights together as his lift was still broken. My empty flat and lecture notes had become the Promised Land ‒ and then I found I’d forgotten my key. ‘What’s so maddening,’ I said, ‘is that I now know where it is ‒ pinned to my uniform dress.’

  He stopped studying the landing floor. ‘I’m afraid I’ve no spare. I gave Miss Bruce the only three to this lock.’

  ‘She told us. Hell! I would choose tonight!’

  ‘Something special about tonight?’

  I explained. ‘The girls below’ll put me up when they get in,’ I added. ‘Could be worse. Could be raining.’

  He said, ‘Unfortunate your brother should’ve been involved in this sit-in.’

  ‘Yes.’ I smiled involuntarily. ‘Inevitable’ was the right word, but as he worked for the other side I didn’t say so. Had he not been our landlord I would have asked if he knew anything about picking locks. I wanted to try that, which meant getting rid of him. I used the first excuse that occurred to me. ‘I’ll ring Mrs Duncan and ask if I can call in on her.’

  ‘She lives near?’

  ‘Corstorphine. But I’ll enjoy the bus-ride out. So all I need is the nearest phone.’

  There was a small silence. ‘Presumably mine.’

  That slip-up made me suddenly aware I was very tired. It had been a normally busy week. The last two hours had been unusually energetic, but what had most exhausted me was this strained atmosphere. I could work all day and dance half the night without feeling tired, but a slack afternoon with a moody ward sister invariably left me, as most people, physically drained with my brain in slow motion. Yet he was trying to be helpful, had driven me back, and, above all, been so nice to me previously. ‘That’s a break I’d overlooked!’ I flogged enthusiasm into my voice. ‘Would you mind my using it?’

  ‘Could any neighbour in these circumstances?’

  ‘Maybe not, but thanks.’ We went on up. ‘One way and another I’m having a rather traumatic evening.’

  ‘So it would seem.’

  His flat provided me with another traumatic experience. Had I given it any thought I would have expected to find it serviceable, bookish, slightly impersonal, and much too tidy. I was only right about the books.

  The room into which he took me and the dining-room, visible through an open door beyond, were furnished with a discreet, very personal, and very expensive elegance. Most of the furniture was antique, and very good antique. My maternal grandfather had been in that business, and a little of his knowledge had trickled down to me through my mother. One look, and I understood why his insurance company insisted he kept locked the door to the lift below, and why he had just needed two different keys to unlock his front door.

  He left me to use the telephone on a flat-topped rosewood desk. I rang the number twice, then checked. The line was in order and I had the right number. I went out to the hall, a white lie ready.

  He said, ‘I heard you having trouble. Out?’

  That took care of my white lie. ‘She may be in her garden.’ I spoke slowly and tried to think fast. My mind was mainly on my lock. I had hairpins, scissors, and a nail-file in my bag. ‘I think it’s worth taking a chance. Even if she’s out I like seeing the world from the top of a bus.’

  ‘I assume you haven’t looked out of a window in the last few minutes.’

  The drawing-room had three windows, and there was one in the hall. The view from the hall must have been great when not blotted out by a grey-white mist. I could have wept. I smiled idiotically. ‘As my father would say, “What do you think that is ‒ Scotch mist?” And it is.’

  ‘Surely not the first haar you’ve experienced?’

  ‘No, but so far the thickest.’ I turned from the window. ‘Thanks for your ’phone.’

  ‘Anyone else you’d care to ring?’

  There was only Robbie, and he was working. ‘No, thanks. I can’t think of anyone I know well enough to bother ‒’ I broke off, realizing belatedly how that must sound. ‘I know what I’ll do! I’ll go to a movie. I love movies. So restful to the feet.’ He was looking at his watch. ‘The last house’ll have started, but I’ll catch most of it.’

  ‘Would you go to the last performance in a London cinema on your own?’

  ‘Well, no ‒ but this isn’t London.’ I meant that as a compliment. That was not how he took it.

  ‘Edinburgh is a Capital as well as, to you, a provincial city, Miss Hurst. All cities have certain undesirable elements in common.’ He gave me a long, thoughtful look. ‘I could use a drink. Would you care to join me?’

  It was a civilized suggestion. My feet were killing me, and I had a niggling sensation there was some simple solution to this, only I was too weary to remember what it was. Relaxing over a drink might fix that. If not, as it was later than I had thought, I had just to spin out a little time to be able to use Sandra’s possible return with her date as a decent excuse for getting away. ‘Thanks. I’d love one.’

  ‘I thought you might.’

  I had a better look round the drawing-room whilst he got the drinks.
The contents did not match his car, but his car matched his salary. At Martha’s it would have been in the senior residents’, not the consultants’, car-park. But if the drawing-room rugs alone were the genuine Persian they looked to me they were worth more than Martha’s S.M.O.’s annual salary. He must have inherited the lot along with the house and that terrible tweed suit.

  Over our drinks I made small-talk and he listened. Our roles were the reverse of that night in his car. It was that, and my unbroken neck, that kept me from drying up, though the effort left me wearier than ever. And as I thrashed out the traffic problem, the tourist industry, and the coming Festival, I had constantly to remember I was too accustomed to silent Scotsmen to have the conceit to take his attitude as any kind of a personal reflection on myself. Nor was he the first man I’d seen brooding darkly over a whisky at the end of a heavy week. On Friday nights at home my father frequently sighed over his first drink as if convinced the gods had it in for him.

  When I finished my drink I was down to plugging Sandra. ‘Very sociable girl, Sandra. She’s out on a foursome tonight, and as it’s Friday she’ll probably bring them back for a snack. Most people get party-minded, Friday night, don’t they?’

  ‘Do they?’

  ‘Oh, yes. You don’t?’

  He shook his head.

  (Thank God!) ‘It might be worth my nipping down now in case she’s back. She may well be.’ I glanced again at my watch, and suddenly that niggle emerged as a coherent thought. With difficulty I resisted the urge to give three loud cheers. ‘If she’s not I’ve just realized what I can do! I can go down to headquarters. There’s always someone there on the switchboard, and I can wait in our rest-room until Sandra or the other two get back. I’ll find that out by ringing first, and if they’re much later I’ll ring for a taxi to bring me up. The mist now doesn’t matter as though it’s quite late, it’s still so light. Anyway, I could do that walk blindfold.’ I stood up and made my bread-and-butter speech. ‘I’m a nut to forget headquarters. So obvious!’

  He had risen slowly. ‘Even Homer sometimes nods.’ There was a new edge to his voice. ‘I’m sure you won’t make this mistake again.’

  I was puzzled. ‘Did you remember headquarters?’ He nodded. ‘Why didn’t you say so?’

  He hesitated as if choosing his words. ‘Being so obvious, I assumed it must’ve occurred to you.’

  ‘Then why didn’t I say so?’

  ‘Presumably for reasons of your own.’

  My brain had gone back into slow motion. I widened my eyes to wake myself up. ‘What reasons?’

  His tight smile was like a cold hand on my spine. ‘Come now, Miss Hurst! Despite that charmingly ingenuous expression, since you’re not the naive teenager you most successfully appear out of uniform, I can’t believe you seriously wish, much less require, me to answer that.’

  I woke up fast. My God, I thought, not again! Doesn’t anyone read anything but old copies of Time magazine and the colour supplements? I was only faintly amused. The best joke goes off second time round.

  ‘Are you thinking I kept it dark hoping to pressure you into dating me tonight?’

  He ignored that and opened the door. ‘I’ll see you down.’

  Later I realized my post-John detachment was then making its final and most effective appearance. It was that, plus my parents’ upbringing, that prevented my going through that door like a jet. This wasn’t the same again; this was much more complicated. For the man who had been so nice the night Mrs Thompson died to make it so clear I was persona non grata, I had to have upset him in depths.

  My parents said, ‘When you run into unexpected opposition, if possible and safe, try and gauge its strength before running away. If then, or from the start, it seems too tough to handle alone, run like hell.’

  ‘Just a minute, Dr Linsey. If you thought I was trying to twist your arm, why offer me a drink?’

  He turned to face me. If he wasn’t looking at me with a new respect he was looking at me in a new way. ‘Since you press me, had I any alternative?’

  It was like thinking one was on rock and discovering it was quicksand. ‘That’s why you drove me back?’

  ‘One could say that,’ he drawled. ‘One could add one dislikes disappointing children as much as one dislikes seeing them used.’

  ‘Used?’ The absurdity made me smile. ‘You can’t honestly imagine I briefed Meggy to rustle you up?’

  He wasn’t amused. ‘Regrettably I’m not over-gifted with imagination. If I were we could both have been saved the embarrassment of this present situation.’ He paused, but I said nothing. ‘As must also be obvious.’

  ‘No.’

  ‘No?’ The tight smile reappeared. ‘Do I have to speak plainly?’

  ‘Please.’

  He lifted his chin as if I had slapped his face. ‘As you insist, very well. I’ll tell you plainly, Miss Hurst, that whilst it’s a pity I’m not more imaginative, when even the most unimaginative man is presented with an apparently unending series of unfortunate coincidences, there comes a moment when he finds himself forced to wonder how accurately the term ‘coincidence’ can be applied anywhere in the series. And then to reflect on the fact that coincidence always has to stop somewhere. And after, where in the series did the stop come? Not that that last is now of more than academic importance.’ He paused again, but I was too dumbfounded by his conceit for speech. ‘Will you forgive my offering you a wee bit of advice? Though you’re a very attractive as well as sadly overaccident-prone girl, don’t ‒ er ‒ in your own words ‒ try and twist my arm again. I don’t like it and won’t have it. Try it again, and I’ll warn you now ‒ next time, you pick yourself up, walk home, or both. Understand?’

  All I properly understood was that I needed a good psychiatrist. I’d liked him. I’d thought we communicated rather well. His ex-girlfriend, John, Robbie, Bassy, Catriona, even Aunt Elspeth, flashed through my mind. ‘Yes,’ I said absently, ‘I get the picture. Thanks for the drink and lift.’

  He said, ‘I really must congratulate you. Your self-control is as admirable as it is, in my unfortunate experience, unique.’

  He had spoken very politely. It was still just about the nastiest crack I had ever received. I smiled very, very sweetly. ‘Just my typical English phlegm in the face of defeat, Dr Linsey.’

  He wasn’t surprised. He knew it all. ‘You’ve got that key with you, haven’t you?’

  I flapped my eyelashes. ‘You’ve guessed that too? I should’ve known you would. But I thought it was so safe in my bra, along with the spare valve rubbers for Gemmie’s bike ‒ and, of course, the plans.’

  He stiffened. ‘What’s that?’

  I repeated myself. ‘As you’ve guessed from seeing how I’ve brainwashed Meggy, I’m no harmless district student. Amongst other things I’m England’s secret answer to the S.N.P.’ I went on to include everything from the post office this morning to Archie’s prognosis and wee Jaimie. ‘Meggy’s kid brother, only two, but with a fascinating vocabulary. Get his “Up the English!” next time you’re trapping dust. I’m afraid he comes out with a “‒ off, ye bluidv Sassenach!” more often than not. But give me time. I’m working on the kid. When I’m done and he’s your age, if some stray English girl tries to kid him she only used his ’phone for a call she invented to get rid of him whilst she tried to pick a door-lock, he’ll swallow it! And if for some freaky reason he once did her a good turn and has a busted engagement he may even credit her with way-out feelings like gratitude and sympathy! Can you imagine anyone being so credulous ‒ sorry ‒ you can’t, being short on imagination.’ I stopped for breath and to look him up and down. ‘Far be it from me to contradict my host under his own roof, but on present showing I wouldn’t have said there was anything lacking in your imagination. I’d have said it’s in great shape. You’re much too modest, Doctor! Ever thought of being a writer? You should.’

  He was leaning against the closed door looking as if I had spoken exclusively in four-letter words. H
e had to cough before he could speak. ‘If there’s any truth in all this nonsense ‒’

  ‘Truth? From the girl you’ve diagnosed as a crafty little tart on the make? Perish the thought!’

  He went white round the mouth. ‘I refuse to allow you to put such terms into my mouth or to use them in connection with yourself in my presence!’

  ‘You refuse? Should that have me on my knees?’ I walked up to him, shaking my head. ‘Would you mind opening that door, please? Your ego needs more room, and I need fresh air.’

  He didn’t move. ‘Locking yourself out was a genuine error?’

  ‘Do I have to take off my bra to prove my 36B cups hold nothing but me?’

  He jerked away and opened the door. I swept into the hall, but could not undo the self-lock on the front door. He did it. ‘We’ve to sort this out seriously. I’ll drive you down to your headquarters.’

  ‘Thanks, no! Being chucked out of a man’s flat gives me all the masochistic kicks I need for one night.’ I ducked under his arm and was half-way down the first flight before I finished speaking or saw Bassy peering through my letter-box. Melanie and two other boys were with him. They all swung round. I reached the landing with Charles just behind me.

  Melanie caught Bassy’s eye, flicked back her long hair, and without a word removed herself and the two boys.

  Charles and I spoke together. He said, ‘Good evening, Mr Hurst.’ I said, ‘Can I use your flat tonight, Bassy? I’ve locked myself out and the others have gone home. Or have you seen Pete?’

  ‘Yes. I was going to ask you to put up Melly. You can both have our place. It’ll take all night driving her home in this mist, and I’ve got to get back to my sit-in.’ He spoke as if he and I were alone. ‘Did you come out without your bloody key again? Alix, you’re the most god-awful idiot bird I’ve ever run into! Come on. Let’s go!’

  ‘One moment, if you please, Miss Hurst.’ Charles stepped between Bassy and myself wearing the bored expression of a sophisticated adult who suddenly strays into a teenage party. ‘I still feel we should talk things out. If there has been a lamentable misunderstanding ‒’