Highland Interlude

by Lucilla Andrews

  ‘Hollow with fear.’ I told, him exactly how I had felt yesterday about Gairlie as well as himself. ‘I was ashamed to be so selfishly concerned mainly for you, but that didn’t stop my thinking each time we heard more were down, thank God, he’s that much nearer to coming back. I’d no idea then you’d be coming back ‒ to me. I just wanted you back in one piece. I don’t know if that makes sense?’

  ‘If not in one way, certainly in another. You’ll recall you were on the D.I.L., and I, my darling, was in hell.’ His eyes searched my face. ‘Even though I thought you if not actually in love; as near as made no matter, with Archie MacDonald.’

  ‘No. For a bit, a bit fixated, as he was with me. I snapped out of it some time back, and he’s well over it now. I expect you’ve heard he’s now in Washington?’

  ‘No. Though Davie did tell me when I first rang him yesterday morning that he’d a letter in the morning’s post saying some friend of Archie MacDonald’s would be coming up from Monday to use his room and tackle for a couple of weeks. Davie was not best pleased, as he likes to vet his guests. I assumed Archie MacDonald was remaining in England to be near you.’

  ‘He flew to Washington the day you took the kids down.’ His expression tightened. ‘No, Dougal! Like I said ‒ all over by mutual consent.’

  His expression relaxed. ‘The man must be daft, but if this was so ‒ and, of course, I believe you ‒ why were you so anxious to return to England?’

  ‘Various reasons.’ I thought of mentioning Maury, and instantly dismissed the thought as too unimportant. ‘The two main ones were my impression that you’d had a surfeit of me and my own desire not to add more to the staggering bill I already owed you.’

  ‘You didn’t realize I was only too willing to do anything I could for you? Och, lassie, if I’ve been thick you’ve been plain daft!’

  ‘I know that now. But it was only yesterday I began to see myself clearly. You took until just now. Previously, I’ve been certain you did all you did purely out of your stern Calvinistic sense of duty.’

  ‘You were not only wrong about myself, you were confusing the Highlands with the Lowlands. Calvin’s theories didn’t penetrate the Highlands to anything like the same extent.’

  ‘That so?’ I smiled. ‘That’s what comes of doing only modern history from the third form up ‒ and of being an ignorant foreigner, and also,’ I added quickly, as he looked about to protest and there was something I had to say, ‘of being me, personally. Being me, it was far easier to think you just hide-bound by duty, rather than recognize the disturbing truth about you and myself. I discovered yesterday that I’d loved you for some time ‒ my subconscious knew that ‒ but consciously I didn’t want to love you or any other man yet. Love hurts. I didn’t want to be hurt. Yesterday taught me not only is there no way round that one, but if there should be I wouldn’t now take it.’

  He took a long breath. ‘Knowing how much life has already hurt you, and at such a tragically early and impressionable age, I’d find your courage now incredible, did I not know you so well.’ He drew me closer. ‘You’d the impression I’d had a surfeit of you? You’d no idea the thought of your leaving Gairlie seemed to tear the heart from my body? Or that I wanted to take you to London not only to look after you, but to be with you that much longer?’

  ‘I didn’t guess any of that.’

  Not just one sun, but a whole galaxy, was rising for us both.

  He said, ‘There’s something more you couldn’t guess. Yesterday, when we were at base, I heard Davie’s car had been seen leaving Gairlie. The thought that you’d gone so distracted me that at first I could think of nothing else. Then I found I’d lost my glove and had consciously to thrust you out of my mind. When a climber lets his concentration break he’s in trouble. I’d a job to do that didn’t include adding to Charlie’s problems with another accident. But the effort of pushing you out, mentally, exhausted me far more than any climb I’ve ever done. When we got down this morning I felt like an old man ‒ and when you opened the door to me ‒ Archie MacDonald or no Archie MacDonald ‒ it took all the control I possess not to grab you ‒ like this.’ His arms tightened still more as he spoke. ‘And when we first came in here I didn’t dare touch you. But seeing you looking so frail and weary and lovely, though I’m not normally a violent man, and though Hamish MacAlistair’s over twenty years my senior, had he come back too soon I could willingly have hit him for what I thought he’d done to you.’

  ‘That was one impression I did get right. You looked as if you couldn’t wait to set the heather alight.’

  ‘Maybe so, though it was not the heather that was already alight then ‒ and right now.’ He kissed me, hard, and having started it seemed as if that was something he couldn’t stop. Then suddenly, he raised his face from mine. ‘My darling,’ he murmured anxiously, ‘I’d forgotten this shocking wee beard! Have I left one inch of soft skin on your bonnie face? Why didn’t you tell me to stop?’

  ‘I didn’t want you to stop. I like your wee beard ‒ even if it does feel like wire wool.’

  ‘So?’ His eyes lit with passionate laughter. ‘At least you’ll know what to expect in the early mornings when we’re married. That is ‒ will you have me, sweetheart?’

  ‘Thank you, I’d love to.’

  He sighed contentedly. ‘That’s a mercy, as you’ve got me, lassie. You’ve had me since I first saw you standing on my own staircase, though the love I’d for you then was but a shadow of the substance it is now.’ He kissed me again. ‘Now I can properly take care of you the way I’ve long wished. Now I’ll never let you leave me. Will you mind not returning to England until after we’re married?’

  ‘Not in the slightest, though I’ve no idea what I’ll do till then, and my Matron may object.’

  ‘I’ll attend to her, presently ‒ if you leave her to me?’

  ‘Gladly!’

  ‘And the other wee details?’

  ‘Of course.’

  He grinned like Johnnie. ‘Naturally, when we’re married, you’ll continue to indulge my every wish with this enchanting docility?’

  ‘What else? You know me, love ‒ the most docile of little women.’

  ‘A fact I’d observed within two minutes of first meeting you. Obviously, only a meek, helpless girl could’ve decided to drive those kids up from Glasgow in a strange car, over strange roads, to a stranger’s house, and then dealt so intelligently with Judy. And your natural submissiveness was even more apparent that time Johnnie nicked his artery and I put in an ill-timed remark, but I was made very aware of it on many other occasions. Not that you weren’t politeness itself with your “Yes, of course, Professor,” or “Certainly, Dougal,” but it was the charming expression in your beautiful eyes that told me so clearly the gentle thoughts passing through your truly docile mind.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Aye. Every time I made some arbitrary remark your look said plainly, “Drop dead you despotic bastard!” ’

  ‘I wasn’t as bad as that! But you were so formal!’

  ‘Don’t you mean, bloody pompous?’

  ‘Well, yes. But only in your own house. You were quite different that night on the hill and ‒ nearly always ‒ in hospital.’

  ‘On the hill I was able to hold you in my arms. Certainly, the wee plastic bag made a difference, but not all that difference at that stage of our relationship. In hospital you were ill. Back in my house you were my reluctant guest whom I could see to your bedroom door ‒ and then had to close the bloody thing between us.’

  ‘It was that?’ I stroked his hair. ‘But you made me feel sexless.’

  ‘That’s not the effect you’ve had constantly on me. When I’m on the defensive I always turn pompous ‒ but there’s one thing more I want to ask you. If it wasn’t for Archie MacDonald or his roses, why did you seem so happy when I returned on Friday?’

  ‘I’d enjoyed working again, I’d missed you, I was delighted to see you back. I wanted to ask if you thought I should apply
for a theatre job at the hospital here. It’s going shortly. That’s why I didn’t take up your offer to pull a string for me.’

  ‘Is that a fact?’

  ‘Aye. It is that, Professor.’

  ‘And for that, my sweet, gay, brave, lovely Elizabeth, you can kiss me ‒ and quickly now, as that sounds like Hamish returning up the path.’

  I didn’t waste any time.

  Nor did Dougal. Before that day was out, our wedding day was fixed for six weeks later.

  Chapter Fifteen

  THE BELLS ARE REALLY RINGING

  I spent those six weeks with the MacAlistairs. They were good weeks.

  Joe’s telegram was the first reaction I had from Martha’s. ‘Can’t wait call you auntie love joe.’

  My Matron wrote: ‘… delighted. As you will understand, I have been dreading having to tell you there could be no question of your returning to work in St Martha’s for at least two years ‒’

  Judy wrote: ‘Fragmentingly fab! Can I be bridesmaid?’

  Since the great majority of my fellow ex-patients lived locally, they called to give me their good wishes and not-so-small tokens in person.

  Young Mrs Ferguson said, ‘Though that poor soul Miss Donald was convinced your Yankie laddie was the man of your choice ‒ and I’ve nothing against the Yanks, you’ll understand ‒ it was no surprise to me to hear you’d chosen Professor Grant. It’s not that I’m prejudiced ‒ but there’s no denying you can’t beat a braw upstanding Scotsman in his prime!’

  Archie answered my letter by return. He wasn’t surprised either. ‘Once I got back here, I figured it near as dammit, and I am real glad for you both.’

  My grandfather had considered young women incapable of managing their own business affairs, and so tied up the money he had left me that I was unable to touch the capital until I was thirty. It was no fortune, but handy. The income before tax was one hundred and fifty a year. But in Grandfather’s will a special clause had set aside two hundred pounds to pay for my wedding and trousseau.

  Grandfather’s solicitor wrote: ‘Send me the bills.’

  The MacAlistairs having as good as adopted me, I showed them as well as Dougal that letter, to end the argument I had had with all three.

  Isobel MacAlistair came home to meet me, and later joined her mother, Craig, and myself to Edinburgh when we bought my wedding-dress. Craig and I had coffee together while the others called on some distant MacAlistair relative.

  ‘My God,’ she said, ‘you English are a crafty lot! Did you fool us all! Not that anyone’s been surprised by your man. As Mrs Lewis says, one look at his face when you were on the D.I.L. was enough for a blind man! But you with your blether about imagining him promised to Mrs Valentine! Had we not turned so hectic just then, I’d probably have seen through your low English cunning from that alone, seeing that I’ve lived in Gairlie most of my life and never heard one word of that from any other body! Mind you, I’m not saying she’s not cast for him in her time ‒ but she’s cast for half the men in Gairlie, including my Ian at the hotel. But they’re an awful slippery lot to land, having learnt a trick or two from the salmon ‒ and I’m not that sure she actually wants to land them. I’m of the opinion she gets her kicks just trying to take them away from other women.’

  ‘We all have our hobbies.’

  ‘That’s a fact! I hear her latest is another film man. Is it right she’s now in Spain with him?’

  ‘Yes. Plus a whole film company. He wants to make his Highland picture there to be sure of enough sun.’

  ‘Och, Gordon’ll be sad! He’s been hoping for a job as an extra. He fancies himself as an actor, but does he ham!’

  ‘Poor Gordon! How does he fancy Dougal and me?’

  ‘Thrilled to bits by your spurning the flesh-pots for a hard-working Highlander! How’s the latest trop. bug opus progressing?’

  ‘Surprisingly well, it seems, despite interruptions. He’s doing a lot of work at night.’

  Mrs Pringle had called and wept on and for me. ‘I was that astonished, lassie! I’d be that satisfied ‒ but are you strong enough to wed? There’s a wee bit colour to your face, but your awful frail about the body! You’ll not be thinking of bearing yet awhile?’

  Later she baked and iced a magnificent three-tiered wedding-cake. ‘Nine pounds of currants, Miss Elizabeth, and not one that I didna pick over myself to be sure there was no wee seed!’

  All four Fentons were flying up with their father. Gairlie Grants were expected from all over Scotland. ‘It’ll be as bad as Celtic playing Rangers at Hampden,’ grumbled Dr MacAlistair, ‘but I’ll get you up that aisle, Elizabeth! With my weight, I’m grand at getting through a crowd.’

  On the afternoon before our wedding I was waiting with Dougal at Achnagairl for the Fentons’ arrival from Inverness, when Charlie Urquhart arrived to settle some guest-ferrying problem. As Mrs Cameron wanted my advice on her wedding hat, I left the men together. When I got back to them Charlie was leaving and saying, ‘We’ll miss you, man, but ‒’ He broke-off. ‘Festive bonnet settled, Elizabeth?’

  I waited until Dougal and I were alone again in the study. ‘Mind if I ask, why’s Charlie going to miss you? Is the L.G.M.C. planning its next training climb while we’re away?’

  ‘Apparently.’

  ‘Can’t we get back for it? You haven’t been up since that last search, and though I don’t know exactly how much training an old climbing hand like yourself needs, presumably, like any other sport, if you’re keeping it up you have to keep in training.’

  ‘It’s thoughtful of you to suggest that, Elizabeth, but it’ll not be necessary to curtail our honeymoon. Charlie and I have already settled the matter between us, and in any event the precise date of the next training climb’s not yet settled.’

  ‘Then why on earth was he crying “woe, woe” just now?’ Suddenly I looked at him much more closely. He was standing with his back to the window, the loch, the hills, and the Ben. I glanced at the mountain over his shoulder, then back at his face. ‘And why are you looking rigid? I suppose it could be pre-wedding nerves ‒’

  ‘No such thing!’

  ‘Then why?’ He didn’t answer. ‘Dougal, you wouldn’t be thinking of doing anything crazy like resigning from the L.G.M.C.?’

  He was now pretending he was solid wood, which answered my question long before he did that with words. ‘Why crazy? I’ll have to opt out some time; now’s as good as any. Naturally, pro tem, I’ll have to go up on emergencies, but that’ll be my lot.’

  ‘If you lay off training and climbing for pleasure you could be right.’ I walked up to him. ‘Have you suddenly gone stark raving nuts? Or just got a death-wish?’

  ‘Neither. But if you want it spelt out, I’m not putting you through hell again for my pleasure.’

  I was very, very touched and very, very worried. ‘My darling man, you’re not doing this for me. I won’t have it!’

  ‘My darling girl, I’m sorry, but you’ve no say in the matter. It’s my decision made of my own free will.’

  I could still recognize a brick wall when I saw one, but this was no time for retreat. ‘Your last word?’

  ‘Aye.’

  ‘Because you want to spare me from being hurt?’

  ‘As I’ve said.’

  I said slowly. ‘Bully for you, chum! But if this is how you’re going to run our married life I don’t see how we can have much of a life together. We obviously can’t have any kids, according to your rules ‒’

  ‘Elizabeth, you’re being ridiculous ‒’

  ‘Oh no, I’m not! Forgotten I’ve done Part One midder? I’ve seen rows of normal deliveries. I haven’t seen one in which the mother didn’t go through hell for some, if not all, her labour. Since you’re so determined to keep me in the cotton-wool wrappings, I’m damned if I see how you’re going to get round that one. Come to that, hadn’t you better get working on another self-denying ordinance before you consider getting into bed with me? You’ve never asked me, s
o I’ve never told you, but I happen to be a virgin.’

  He coloured. ‘I hate to say this, sweetheart, but this is emotional blackmail, not reasoned argument.’

  ‘But haven’t you just given me to understand reasoned argument is out? Who can argue with a man who’s said his last word on a subject?’

  ‘I’m sorry you should feel that way.’

  ‘So am I! I want to marry you, tomorrow, but you, the man I said I’d marry, mountains, wire wool, and all! I don’t want you with bits hacked off ‒ and that’s what I’ll get if you chuck climbing until you’re around Old Sinclair’s age, and maybe not even then, as he still potters up in his own time, as he told me. I don’t expect his wife enjoys it any more than Sister Kilsyth or any of the other wives ‒ but who expects to enjoy everything and have it all for free? And what makes you think those other women can take it, but I can’t?’

  He said quickly, ‘That question never entered into my mind ‒’

  ‘Then it bloody well should’ve done! I know you acted with the best of intentions, but for a man who wants to spare me from being hurt you’re doing a dead grotty job right now. Obviously, you don’t think I love you enough to give as well as to take.’

  ‘Elizabeth, that’s not true! As if you haven’t shown me ‒ and are showing me even more now ‒ how much I mean to you.’ He reached for me with both hands, ‘Have I really hurt you with this?’

  ‘Yes. I don’t like being shut out by you. Would you, by me?’

  ‘No. I’m sorry.’

  I said nothing.

  He looked at me, very thoughtfully. ‘Not even you can persuade me to shorten our honeymoon, but I’ll be seeing Charlie again tonight. I expect he’ll be able to fix the training climb for after our return.’

  I knew I’d won. I knew that part would always be hell. But worth it.

  Mrs Cameron’s voice called, ‘Here they are!’

  Judy was my one bridesmaid and waiting in the MacAlistairs’ hall when I came downstairs next morning. Her dress was powder blue, and she wore a wreath of blue velvet daisies on her long blonde hair. ‘Elizabeth! Wowie!’ She walked round me. ‘You look an absolutely fab, trendy dolly! Dig that for a maxi! Uncle Dougal won’t know you!’