Anne Douglas (21 page)

In spite of the weather, the tearoom was quite full, but they found a table at the back where it was warm, and were soon covertly studying each other from behind their menus.

‘Scones or teacake?’ Mark asked. ‘Or black bun, Scotch pancakes or soda bread?’

‘Oh, my, I think a Scotch pancake, please. With butter.’

‘Of course. Can’t eat much in Scotland without butter, which may or not be good for you.’

‘Yes, Doctor,’ said Shona, suddenly relaxing and feeling at her ease, and Mark laughed.

‘Sorry, can’t resist a bit of preaching. I like butter, anyway, especially on the scones they have here. Here comes the waitress.’

When he’d given their order, they faced each other more openly and Mark, sweeping back his thick, dark brown hair, sighed.

‘You know, I can’t get over how you’ve grown up, Shona. You don’t look so very different – I’d always have known you – but, you’re right, you’re not eleven any more.’

‘You haven’t changed at all.’

‘Except to put on a bit of weight.’ He smiled. ‘Better get to the squash courts, eh? No, I was already set in my mould when we first met, that’s the difference between us. I’ve just grown older, not more grown up.’

And what’s Miss Ruddick like now? wondered Shona as their order came and she poured the tea. In the early days of her time at Maybel’s, Miss Ruddick had looked in a few times, but it was some time now since Shona had seen her. She found herself thinking of her, even longing to speak of her, but Mark was already asking about Shona’s own work, what sort of prospects she had, where was she living and so on, and seemed so interested, Shona was willing enough to fill him in.

She even found herself talking of the new boss who’d taken over from Mr and Mrs May, though she hadn’t intended to mention Fraser at all. Still, he had so many plans, she felt she should talk of them, and again Mark listened attentively.

‘What’s he like to work for, then, this boss of yours? Not a slave-driver, I hope?’

‘Oh, no!’ Shona, blushing, passed Mark the plate of scones and buttered herself another Scotch pancake. ‘No, Mr Kyle’s very nice, really. A good businessman, everyone says, but kind.’

‘Like Jay,’ Mark murmured, his eyes on Shona thoughtful. ‘You get on well with Mr Kyle, then? Somehow, I get the feeling that you do.’

‘We all get on well with him,’ she stammered.

‘But you’re special? Didn’t you say you were manageress now? He must have confidence in you.’

‘Look, why are we talking all the time about me? What are your plans, Mark? You haven’t said any more about yourself.’

‘Oh, I’ve no plans. At least as regards work, which I love. I suppose I’ve other ideas – of what I might do with my life.’

‘Tell me about Miss Ruddick,’ Shona said boldly. ‘What’s her new job like?’

‘Tough, I’d say. Her orphanage is not like the Lodge, it’s much more old fashioned, more like a fortress, and her predecessor had old-fashioned ideas, too. Now, Jay’s busy changing all that, and fighting for more money for improvements – you know the story.’ He shook his head. ‘She’s doing a wonderful job – everyone’s hoping she’ll stay.’

Shona raised her eyebrows. ‘Why shouldn’t she? She’s no’ been there long.’

He shrugged. ‘She’s another who might have plans. Like some cakes?’

Plans. What was the betting Miss Ruddick’s plans were the same as Mark’s? Just accept that that was so, Shona told herself, gazing at the assorted cakes the waitress had left. After all, there was nothing new about Mark Lindsay being far away from her. What was new was that they were actually having tea together.

‘I’ll just have more tea, I think,’ she said aloud. ‘Then I should be going. It’s getting dark already.’

‘Don’t worry about that. I’ve got my motor parked near here. I’ll run you home.’

Another lift back with a different man? Just as well the darkness was descending, so that the neighbours couldn’t see her arrival home, or what would they think? As she took her seat in Mark’s car, Shona decided she was getting rather tired of worrying over what the neighbours might think. What a world of watchers she seemed to inhabit! From Fraser and Cassie at work to Mrs Gow and the folk next door. How pleasant it would be to come and go and not be noticed. But it wasn’t possible even to imagine living like that – at least, not in Maybel’s, not in Baxter Row.

‘So, this is where you found lodgings?’ Mark was remarking as he drew up outside Mrs Gow’s. ‘Is this near your old home?’

‘It is. I know everyone around here.’

‘You’ve done well,’ he said quietly. ‘Finding a job that suits you, finding lodgings, building your own life. I have to admire you, Shona.’

‘Most orphans have to do the same.’

‘They haven’t all got the same goals. And though you’ve grown up, you’re still very young, you know.’ He laughed. ‘Make me feel my age.’

‘You’re no’ old, Mark!’

‘No, just older.’ He glanced at his wristwatch. ‘Well, I’d better go. I’ve an early surgery this evening. Shall we meet again? We’re friends, aren’t we? Friends should meet.’

Took him a while to remember that, she thought, and though she couldn’t really see the point of meeting again, agreed that they should.

‘Maybe you’ll come into the shop again?’ she suggested. ‘When you want flowers?’

‘I might at that. I’ll get in touch, anyway. So nice to see you, Shona.’

‘You, too. And thank you very much for the lovely tea. Remember me to Miss Ruddick, eh?’

‘Sure I will. I’m seeing her at the weekend; we’re going to a concert at the Usher Hall.’

‘That’ll be nice.’

He came round to open her door, told her to take care on the treacherous pavements, watched her into Mrs Gow’s house and with a jaunty wave, drove away.

‘Goodbye, Mark,’ Shona said softly from the doorway. Would she see him again? Probably not. Unless he did want to buy more flowers for Miss Ruddick. Which would not mean that he wanted to see Shona.

She was glad she was able to accept that he was not for her, even if seeing him again had brought old feelings back. It made life easier. All the same, she discovered, as she worked through all the little jobs she saved for her afternoon off – mending, ironing, tidying up – that she’d changed her mind about marrying Fraser. It mattered too much, after all, that he was not ‘the one’. Seeing Mark again had made her sure of that. All that remained now was to tell him.

As soon as she saw Fraser again, she felt bad. Guilty. He looked so happy that first morning of his return, freshly shaved and bathed after his journey by sleeper, wearing his sister’s Christmas presents of a new shirt and tie, his green eyes alight as he looked for Shona in the front shop.

‘Happy New Year everybody!’ he cried. ‘All had a good Christmas?’

‘Yes, thank you, Mr Kyle,’ they chorused.

‘Did you, Mr Kyle?’ asked Brigid smartly. ‘You’re looking very well.’

‘Ate too much,’ he answered with a grin. ‘But how’ve things been here? No problems, Shona?’

‘No problems, Mr Kyle. It’s been quiet since we got back after Christmas, but that’s usual.’

‘Maybe, but I don’t like things quiet.’ He thought a moment. ‘Maybe we should try making some New Year offers. See what you can mark down on the indoor plants and put a notice in the window. Oh, and I’ll send an advert to the papers. Shona, can you come into my office for a minute? We can draft something out.’

Ignoring the looks passing between Brigid and Cassie, Shona followed Fraser up to his office, her heart thudding heavily in her chest. It didn’t surprise her that when they were alone together he took her in his arms and kissed her hard before releasing her with a gasping sigh. ‘Oh, God, Shona, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you! Being down there in the south so far away nearly drove me crazy.’

‘But it was nice for you to be with your sister.’

‘Oh, yes, and I don’t see her very often, which is why I agreed to visit when she asked me. But that was before you and I got to know each other.’

He stood back a little, fixing her with his intense gaze while she, not meeting it, stood still, looking round his office as though it were of some interest.

‘Are we going to write that advert?’ she asked at last.

‘Write the advert?’ He laughed. ‘Do you think I asked you to come up here to do that? I can write it myself in two minutes. No, I was hoping, since I’ve been away some time, you might have reached a decision. About my proposal.’

‘You said I needn’t give you an answer even when you came back from London.’

‘I know, but I was hoping you would, all the same.’ He hesitated, some of his radiance deserting him. ‘You really couldn’t decide yes, or no?’

She could. She had. But as she finally met his eyes, read their dismay, saw him change from happy expectation to crestfallen disappointment, she couldn’t find the words to say her answer was ‘No’. Sometime soon she must tell him, but not now. She’d ask for a little more time – that wouldn’t be unreasonable, would it? After all, he’d said she could if she liked take all the time in the world.

‘It’s a big decision,’ she said in a low voice. ‘As I said before, it’s all happened so quickly. We hardly know each other.’

‘When you fall in love, you know all there is to know. It hits you like a bolt from the blue.’ He smiled uneasily. ‘That’s why you see pictures of Cupid with his little bow and arrow.’

‘And he can’t see, can he?’

‘You’re saying you need to know me more, Shona? I told you, you’re the one for me. I don’t need any more time to be sure, if that’s what you’re wanting.’

‘It is,’ she said quickly. ‘I need more time. You did say I could have all the time in the world.’

‘I didn’t think you’d need it,’ he said quietly. ‘But . . . well . . . it’s true . . . I said I’d wait.’ He smiled, showing his dimples. ‘So, I’ll wait.’

‘Thank you, Fraser.’

He touched her arm. ‘But don’t make me wait too long, will you?’

‘I won’t. And I do appreciate that you’ve – you know – asked me. I mean, anybody’d feel . . . proud.’

‘Would they?’ He removed his hand from her arm and opened the door. ‘Better tell them downstairs that we’ve got the advert done. And go through the plants with Brigid – decide which we can reduce in price.’

‘I’ll do that, Mr Kyle.’

Clattering back to the front shop, she called to Brigid and led the way to the plant room for the marking down, hoping that Brigid wouldn’t make any comment on her trip upstairs. In fact, she did make a comment, but it was only to say that Shona was looking a bit down in the dumps.

‘Everything all right?’ she asked, inspecting a rather tired-looking poinsettia.

‘Fine,’ Shona answered sharply. ‘Why shouldn’t it be?’

‘Well, as I say, you seem kind of low. Didn’t get ticked off for anything, did you?’

‘No, I didn’t get ticked off.’ Wish I had been, thought Shona, for a telling off would have been easier to accept than Fraser’s sad gaze. ‘Look, let’s just decide which of these to reduce, then I’ll write out a sale notice.’

‘Mr Kyle can’t bear failure, can he?’ Brigid murmured as she began to sort out the house plants. ‘Even if it gets quiet here for perfectly understandable reasons, he feels he’s got to rush around trying to fix things. There’s always a lull after Christmas, but he can’t accept it.’

‘He’s a businessman. He has to keep up sales.’

True enough of Fraser, thought Shona, but also true was Brigid’s shrewd assessment of his unwillingness to face failure. And was Shona going to be one of his failures? On her way to write out the sale notice in the workroom, when they had put aside a selection of plants to go on offer, she felt more depressed than ever.

It was in the workroom that Isla found her, sitting with Cassie who was completing an order, a few minutes later. ‘Shona, there’s someone to see you,’ she told her. ‘A young man.’

Archie Smith? Neil Boath? Joey MacGibbon? ‘Who is it?’ Shona asked, not feeling in the mood to see any of the young men she knew.

‘He didn’t say. But he’s ever so nice looking.’

Nice looking? Shona glanced at Cassie, who was staring with interest. She couldn’t imagine that any of her three admirers could be described that way. No’ bad looking, maybe. But ‘ever so nice’? This fellow, whoever he was, she must see.

‘Aren’t you the lucky one?’ Cassie called after her with a mischievous grin as she hurried to the front shop.

He was standing by the flowers, a damp hat in his hands. A tall, slender young man in a thick plaid jacket with a fine head of thick black hair. His nose was straight, his mouth well shaped and firm, his eyes, turned on Shona, were what some might call ‘fine’ – large and lustrous, very dark.

Oh, yes, thought Shona, slightly taken aback, this man was ‘ever so nice looking’. But who was he? Why had he asked for her? It came to her that he was probably trying to sell something, though he had no briefcase. Sometimes, commercial travellers tried to get a foot in the door by visiting the shop staff first before seeing the boss and peddling their garden equipment, tools and so on. But as soon as the idea came she dismissed it. She didn’t want this handsome man to be someone she would have to disappoint. And flushed a little, wondering why.

‘I’m Shona Murray,’ she told him as he moved towards her. ‘Did you wish to see me?’

‘That’s right. I hope you won’t mind me coming to the shop like this, but I don’t have your address.’

His voice was strange. American, perhaps. Or, a wild thought – Canadian? Shona was staring, trying to see some sort of likeness, but maybe she was wrong, anyway. She wasn’t wrong.

‘My name’s Brett Webster,’ he said, extending his hand. ‘I’m your cousin from Toronto.’

From bright pink, Shona’s face was now quite pale and she kept thinking, as she shook his hand, that this must be some sort of dream. After all, she’d had daydreams often enough when she was younger, when she’d wished so hard to see someone of her own family seeking her. Not usually dreams of the boy cousins she knew she had, but Aunt Mona herself, come to take her back to a real home again. Of course, it had never happened. No one came and as she lost hope, the daydreams faded. Was she daydreaming now, all over again? Or was this a real live cousin standing in front of her? The trouble was, she didn’t know what to say.