Highland Interlude

by Lucilla Andrews

  I was not alone. The kitchen door was closed, but Robin didn’t trouble to lower his voice. ‘We’re still lumbered with her? How bloody sick-making!’

  Mrs Pringle was small and thin with grey hair twisted in a tight bun and a lined, defeated face. I did not hear her reply to Robin, but every time she saw me she gave the height of my skirt hem a more disapproving glance.

  Judy said, ‘Grotty luck ‒ for you, I mean, Elizabeth.’

  My host asked me to spare him a few minutes in his study. He had rung Martha’s, arranged to have a suitcase of clothes sent up for me and collected from Glasgow tomorrow, and fixed with Matron that I would ring her at two that afternoon. ‘I thought it best that I should have a word with her first. I hope you’ve no objection?’

  ‘None. Thank you.’

  He favoured me with another of his cute little bows. ‘With your Matron’s approval I’ve asked Dr Sinclair to keep an eye on your health as well as Judy’s. May I now make a personal request?’

  I was intrigued. ‘Of course, Professor Grant.’

  With the utmost politeness he asked me to behave like a leper throughout the coming week. ‘Gairlie is such a healthy wee place that we seldom get infections up here. When we do, having no immunity, half Gairlie succumbs. This house will be in quarantine until Judy’s clear, but, apart from her and yourself, the rest of us can’t carry the bug, as we’ve had it. You’ll recall scarlet can only be spread by direct contact?’

  ‘Yes. I’ll be careful to avoid the village and people.’

  ‘You’ll not hand it on in the open, though I’d prefer you to take no chances with children, even outdoors. They may not take it as mildly as Judy. And, talking of the lassie, I’d prefer you to keep away from her room until Dr Sinclair allows her up.’ He smiled faintly. ‘This may seem a classic example of locking the stable door, but there’s no sense in exposing you unnecessarily to the bug.’

  That did irk me. I was a nurse. I enjoyed nursing. Judy did not require much, but she needed a little. ‘Must I? I’ve met scarlet so often without getting it that, while I appreciate that doesn’t mean I can’t be a carrier, I can’t hurt Judy and I’m sure I won’t get it from her.’

  ‘If you’ll forgive my saying so, on that point no one on this earth can at present be sure.’ He paused to let his displeasure sink in. ‘I would be most grateful if you could see your way to indulging me in this.’

  As I could see a brick wall when I met one, I wasted no more energy in arguing. ‘Of course, Professor Grant.’

  ‘Thank you. I hope you won’t find the coming week too tedious. It will be a great pleasure to us all to have you with us, and despite the tiresome scarlet restrictions I sincerely hope you’ll feel free to treat this house as if it were your own.’

  It was a pretty, if mechanical little speech. I made one back. It wasn’t very good, but from his bow I had just handed him the Crown Jewels. Then he suggested I might feel more at home if we used each other’s Christian names.

  I had to stifle the urge to simper, ‘Lud, Professor! So sudden!’ Though there had to be a very good and educated brain behind the rather rigid lines of his face, and there might even be a sense of humour, I was taking no chances. I had his message as clearly as I had Mrs Valentine’s. As his guest I was free to treat his house as my house ‒ providing I did as I was told without question and minded my manners. I folded my hands and approved his suggestion with what I hoped was becoming modesty. I hoped like crazy he’d bow again. He did. ‘I’m glad, Elizabeth.’ He held open the door. ‘Shall we away to lunch?’

  ‘Thank you, Dougal.’ It took all my self-control not to curtsey.

  Chapter Three

  THE CORN SEEMS VERY ALIEN

  That afternoon and the following morning old Dr Sinclair looked down my throat, patted my hand, and said had he more patients like me he’d have more time for his garden. ‘Have you observed my daffodils, lassie? Och you should! The first up in Gairlie.’

  He was a great-grandfather and thin as paper. He stooped a little, but his movements were brisk and steady, and his hearing and eyesight were excellent. He had retired to Gairlie after forty years as a G.P., and then found himself in constant demand as ‘a permanent locum, lassie’. He said he had no objection to the work, but he wished it left him more time to spend with his wife and in pursuit of his hobbies ‒ gardening and climbing.

  I enjoyed his visits, since it was pleasant to be treated like a rational human being by a fellow adult, if only for a few minutes at a time. He was a great talker.

  ‘You’ll recall the twins I mentioned yesterday, Miss Wade?’

  ‘Yes, indeed. Arrived yet, Doctor?’

  ‘Not they. It’s my rest day tomorrow, so they’ll wait until I’m in my bed tonight!’ He clicked shut his aged Gladstone bag. ‘A great place for twins, Gairlie. I’ve had more here than in twice as many years in Dundee. Maybe it’s the water.’

  ‘That’s an interesting theory!’

  ‘Is it not? I’m full of fine theories, but I’ve never yet had the time to weigh their merits academically. One of these days I must discuss this one with your learned host. You’ll be aware he was a twin himself?’

  ‘No.’ I was curious. ‘Twin brothers?’

  ‘Och, no. With the Grants of Gairlie it’s invariably the two sexes. He’d a twin sister, and the poor lassie died of pneumonia when she was but twenty-five. Three years later he’d lost both parents and his older sister.’

  ‘I’d no idea. How ghastly! Was this while he was in Africa?’

  He shook his head. ‘He was away there for the elder girl’s death and returned too late for more than her funeral. He saw his twin and his parents out of this world. Man is born to grief,’ he added simply, ‘and time I was away. Good day to you.’

  During that morning Johnnie told me Maury Valentine had invited Robin and himself to tea at her house that afternoon. ‘Robin talked to her on the ’phone. Uncle says it’ll be all right as she’s had it, only she’d better not come into this house. She asked him to tea, too, but he says he’s got to stay to look after you and Ju.’

  I didn’t care for the notion of a Johnnie-less afternoon. I thought of retreating to my bedroom, but as it had no fire, though I was perfectly happy to huddle in a coat and blankets, I suspected that would occasion great umbrage on two counts ‒ my southerner’s weakness for warm bedrooms and the proof the coats and blankets would provide of my finding Highland hospitality lacking. Having already caused Mrs Pringle to take mortal umbrage by offering to help her with the dishes, I was growing wary. If I stayed by the sitting-room fire Dougal would feel duty-bound to entertain me, and our stilted small-talk would not be improved by Mrs Pringle’s increasingly obvious distrust of my intentions towards him. On the rare occasions when he and I happened to be alone together she was in and out like a jack-in-a-box, unless we were in the study, when she brooded ‒ and breathed ‒ heavily outside the closed door.

  At lunch I asked if I could take an afternoon walk. Mrs Pringle nearly dropped a soup plate in relief, and even Robin approved. Johnnie wanted to alter his plans and walk with me.

  Dougal said, ‘I’m sorry, laddie, and I know Elizabeth will understand that since you’ve already accepted one invitation it would be impolite to back out.’

  ‘But it was Robin who accepted, not me. Must I?’

  ‘I think you should. And you’ll get a good tea.’

  Johnnie brightened. ‘All right.’ He turned to me. ‘Though I wouldn’t mind missing the nosh to come with you.’

  Dougal caught my eye and almost smiled. I was just beginning to think that we might have made contact at last, when he launched into a long and pompous lecture on the local walk he considered most suitable for my outing. He did not actually call me a mentally-retarded, bug-carrying female alien, but again I got the message. Later he bowed me off from his front gate. He was training me so well that I bowed back, and we wasted another five minutes thanking each other and wishing each other well.

&nb
sp; Dr Sinclair’s house was about a mile down the road on the inland side. I stopped to admire his daffodils, then walked on thinking of the spring I had left behind in London, and how busy our theatre always was on Mondays, and how often on a hectic Monday afternoon I had longed to get right away. I took a long look all round. This was certainly right away.

  Across the loch and behind the purple and tan hills Ben Gairlie was free of clouds, and beneath the snowline the black rock looked smooth as glass. Though the sun shone, the wind was icy and, those daffodils aside, spring had not yet reached Gairlie. My eyes rested on Achnagairl House. Neither spring nor the twentieth century.

  The river I had been told to follow was one of the pair that ran into the loch. It was very narrow and in places very shallow. The topaz water ran fast over flat, multicoloured stones, and from dozens of miniature whirlpools the white spray rose in small clouds. The river-bank was lined with bare willows, and the grass was last year’s and yellow with age and from close-cropping by the grazing black-faced sheep. The sheep fascinated me with their high, curving horns, long, shaggy coats, and absurdly long, thin legs. At my approach they scrambled up the nearest hillside like goats, then dodged down for another mouthful directly I had moved on. I had never seen sheep like them. I watched them and thought of Dougal, and knew just how Ruth felt among all that corn. Dead alien.

  I had been walking over an hour when I came to a sudden sharp swerve in the river. It was a good place to turn back. I hesitated, then walked on.

  Beyond the swerve there was a row of granite boulders across the river-bed. It formed a small, but very fast rapids. I threw in a twig. The water tore it in pieces, and the pieces were flung up in the air. I threw in another, and nearly followed it in when I heard that unexpected voice behind me. ‘Pardon me, but you are taking quite a chance getting that close. Those rocks right by the edge are slippery, as I have discovered.’

  The voice was male, American, and vaguely familiar. Directly I turned I saw why.

  He had recognized me. ‘Why, hallo! So you stayed on after the week-end? And right here in Gairlie too!’ The sandy-haired American I had last seen in Glasgow now had his left arm in a sling and was beaming on me as if I were his first glimpse of the Statue of Liberty after a ten-year exile. If Dougal and Mrs Pringle were typical Gairlie types I didn’t blame him.

  I beamed back. ‘Life’s got a bit out of hand over this week-end. What’ve you done to your arm?’

  ‘Slipped Saturday, my first time out. The doc up the hospital fixed it and said no fishing until the tendons have rested up.’

  ‘What wretched luck! I am sorry. How long’ve you got up here?’

  ‘Couple of weeks, maybe. How about you?’

  ‘A week.’

  ‘Why, that’s great!’

  I did not seriously believe he meant that, but I liked the way he managed to sound as if he did.

  He held out his right hand. ‘Archibald A. MacDonald, U.S. citizen, grandson of a Gairlie man.’

  ‘Elizabeth Wade ‒ oh ‒’ I remembered and backed before we touched. ‘Have you had scarlet fever?’

  ‘Sure.’ He was only mildly surprised. ‘And the measles and the nastiest case of chicken-pox in Westchester County. Do I have security clearance?’

  I laughed and explained. ‘It’s all right for me to talk to you in the open,’ I added, ‘but we’d better not shake hands, just in case I’m a carrier. Dougal wouldn’t approve.’

  He leant against an upturned boulder. ‘Who’s this Dougal?’

  ‘The Professor Grant I’ve been telling you about.’ I sat on a boulder. ‘Where’s Westchester County?’

  ‘New York State.’

  ‘And your home?’

  ‘Most the time. Where are you from, Elizabeth?’

  ‘London, England. Both sides.’ I looked at the river. ‘Seems a long way from here.’

  ‘But real swinging?’

  ‘God, yes! Naturally, being a normal Londoner, I carry my sugar-lumps in one pocket, pot in the other. Snag is I’ve got the wrong jacket today. Sorry. Can’t offer you either.’

  ‘I’ll forgive you, Elizabeth. The once. And what do you do when you’re not swinging?’

  ‘Nurse. Heard of St Martha’s Hospital?’

  He frowned slightly. ‘Right by the river? Sure. I know it. Kind of a good hospital, huh?’

  ‘I think so. What do you do?’

  ‘According to the U.S. taxman, I am an automobile salesman.’

  I was watching his expression. ‘And what’s wrong with that?’

  ‘Strictly a horse-and-buggy man, ma’am. And what is more, I detest driving.’

  ‘Do you sell many cars, then?’

  ‘When they twist my arm.’ He offered me a cigarette and when I refused lit one for himself. ‘So you’ve not yet seen right round Gairlie?’

  ‘Only across the loch. What’s it like?’ He was silent. ‘Your first visit?’

  ‘Yes. Last time I had a vacation over here I got as far as Edinburgh. This was way back when I was fresh out of college. Grandma MacDonald has kinfolk there. I kind of stayed put. You know how it is.’

  In the train we had given each other the quick approving once-over. Now we were doing the job much more thoroughly. I had the impression he found the chore no more unpleasant than myself. I liked that, just as I liked the amiable lines of his face and the uninhibited warmth in his manner. I liked the way he managed to look easy-going but not weak. He might be a pushover for a pick-up, but not on anything that really mattered to him.

  ‘You asked how do I like Gairlie? It’s this way; what I have seen I like a lot. I guess I am going to get to like the folks.’

  ‘Only guess?’

  ‘Elizabeth, I am the new boy in town. So Grandpa MacDonald came from Gairlie? So that’s great ‒ but what are a few generations up here? Not that the folks back at my hotel are not real civil and the guy who owns the joint is ‒ wait for it ‒ one Davie MacDonald. He told me himself he does not usually hand out reservations to strangers as he has regulars returning year after year, but he got checking, and it seems he and I are fourth, or maybe fifth cousins. So Archie was in ‒ but, kinfolk or no kinfolk, it is still the good old Mister MacDonald.’

  ‘That I believe!’ I described Dougal’s way-out formality, briefly. ‘Was your grandfather another Archie MacDonald?’

  It could have been my imagination, but he seemed hesitant. ‘Calum Angus.’ He sat on a boulder nearer mine. ‘Can I ask you something, Elizabeth?’

  ‘Go ahead.’

  ‘Married?’

  ‘No. You?’

  ‘I was. Didn’t work out.’

  I said, ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, ‘but you don’t have to be. No hearts were broken. We should not have gotten married, and we were both glad to call it off. She is now married to a real good friend of mine, and I mean just that.’

  I believed him. I had met enough ex-husbands to separate at sight the relieved from the still-sore. The latter were the real menaces.

  We went on talking for some while before I remembered the time. He walked back with me and asked if I would take another walk with him tomorrow.

  ‘Sure, if I can get out. I’m not a free agent.’

  ‘Can I call you to fix it up later?’

  Dougal had said his house was mine, so I said that would be fine, thanks.

  Maury’s car passed us on the loch road. Johnnie, in the back, waved wildly. When we reached the gate of Achnagairl House the car had gone. We parted there as the house was in quarantine.

  Dougal came out of his study as I let myself in. ‘Pleasant walk?’

  The study overlooked the front garden. He must have seen Archie MacDonald at the gate. He did not mention the fact, and I was on the point of explaining when Mrs Pringle emerged from the kitchen. In a voice of doom she informed Dougal, ‘Miss Wade’s tea is waiting on her in the lounge.’

  I said, ‘I hope I wasn’t out too long?’

  ‘Not at all
,’ said Dougal. ‘I hope you’ll forgive my already having had tea with Judy.’

  Mrs Pringle was still there. She was taking no chances. Directly she had set eyes on my wholly exposed knees she had known exactly what to think. She had seen it all on television. She knew it was only a question of time before I enticed her respected Professor into joining my psychedelic rave-up in the front parlour.

  Dougal had letters to write. ‘You’ll excuse me?’

  I knew my place. ‘Of course, Dougal.’ I went up and took off my coat. Mrs Pringle was still in the hall when I came down. She reminded me my tea would be getting cold and shut me firmly in the sitting-room. Her step showed she knew she had done her duty. She would defend him with her life ‒ and she would, at that.

  Johnnie thundered down the stairs, flopped on the sofa beside me, and helped himself to a scone. As we had the room to ourselves he said the tea-party had been a bit of a drag and Robin had gone soft on Mrs Valentine.

  I said, ‘Robin’s got good taste. She’s very pretty.’

  He grimaced. ‘Sort of. I say, Elizabeth, do you think she’s Uncle Dougal’s girl-friend? Robin does. I say he’s much too old ‒ and so is she. Aged! Much older than you.’

  ‘Not all that much, love. A few years.’

  He took another scone. ‘Is that Mr MacDonald you were with just now your boy-friend?’