Authors: Doris Davidson
While she ran the water, she studied herself critically in the mirror. Most of her hair had escaped from its elegant chignon; her face was practically free of make-up now although her cheeks were quite rosy from her spell in the bracing country air. This was not Catherine Walker, head buyer, this was Katie, who could never be a professor’s wife; nor a minister’s, came the unbidden thought. Drying her hands, she took out the remainder of her hairpins, letting her long hair fall in waves to her shoulders. She looked much younger when she returned to the kitchen, and couldn’t help noticing that Billy’s eyes had lit up in admiration.
Mrs Raffan was laying steaming plates on the table. ‘Sit doon, lass. I hope you dinna mind eating in the kitchen?’
‘Oh, no.’ Catherine’s eyes went round the old-fashioned room, and lingered happily on the huge range where a fire was crackling merrily. ‘It brings back memories of my Uncle Jimmy and Auntie Aggie, and it’s so nice and cosy.’
The elderly woman didn’t talk much during the meal, smiling at the two animated faces as her son and Catherine reminisced about the escapades they had shared in their childhood, but when the conversation tailed off, she took her chance. ‘Are you married, Katie?’
‘No, I’m not.’ She paused, then decided to tell the whole story. ‘At first, when I was working my way up, I went out with a few boys, but I never had serious feelings about any of them.’
‘Same as Billy,’ remarked his mother.
‘Then, when I finally made it, and got my present position, I was too engrossed in my work to bother … until I met Donald.’ Aware that Billy had lowered his eyes, she hurried on, ‘We’ve been engaged for a year and he wants us to get married.’
‘And you’re not sure about it?’ the woman asked, kindly.
‘I thought I was,’ Catherine said, frankly, ‘but he told me last night he expected me to give up my job. He said it was either my career or him. That’s what I came here to decide.’
Billy leaned forward when she fell silent. ‘When you came out of the wood, you said you’d done your thinking?’
Her nod came slowly. ‘Yes, I’ve decided to break it off with him. I don’t want to marry him if it means giving up all I’ve worked for over the years.’
Mrs Raffan laid her hand over Catherine’s. ‘If you’d come all the way up here to think about it, you couldna have loved him enough.’
There was great relief in Catherine’s smile. ‘That’s the conclusion I came to, as well.’
‘You’ll find somebody else, lass, somebody you’ll not think twice about giving up your job for.’ The elderly woman sat back and looked meaningfully at her son. Catherine caught Billy’s eye, and her heart missed a beat at the unconcealed hope she saw there. Her hand went up automatically to brush back a curl that had fallen over her eyes, a gesture she remembered from the past, a gesture she hadn’t made for some time because her hair had been in the same severe style since she’d been promoted eight years ago.
Billy had also remembered. ‘You used to do that when you were a kid. Now you’re really Katie again - the sweet-faced, toffee-nosed kid who spoke with a tattie in her mouth.’
She joined in the laughter. ‘You punched the other boys for saying things like that about me. Fancy you remembering.’
‘He’s still the same old Billy, as you can see,’ his mother said fondly, ‘still full o’ fun. He can mind near everything about everybody, and his congregation love him for it.’
‘Oh, Mum,’ he mumbled, sheepishly, his face scarlet with embarrassment. ‘Katie doesn’t want to hear about me.’
But Katie did. This new, old Katie, who had just discovered that she would love to be the wife of a minister - if she were asked.
***
Word count 3280
Written in May 1987 and refused by
People’s Friend.
Chapter One
Having just carried their last case in from the car, Brian Lewis whipped round angrily when the doorbell rang. ‘Who the devil can that be? Can’t they at least give us a chance to settle in before they start poking their noses in?’
‘I’ll go.’ Roselle stepped carefully over the luggage scattered haphazardly over the hall carpet and inched the door open. She hadn’t given a thought to who might be on the doorstep. In fact, she hadn’t really been capable of any rational thinking for some time.
The middle-aged woman smiled apologetically. ‘I’m sorry to bother you, lass, but I thought you’d be glad of a wee something to keep the wolf from the door.’ She took a vacuum flask from the basket over her arm. ‘I know you’ve rented the house furnished and won’t know where to find anything, so I took what I thought you’d need. Let me come in, and you and your husband can sit down. The two of you look absolutely whacked.’
She walked into the lounge as if accustomed to having her orders obeyed, smiling at the man, who seemed somewhat suspicious. ‘I live next door and I like to be a good neighbour, so put your feet up. I’ll just pour out and you can have a wee rest and I’ll take the babies with me so you can get on with your unpacking.’ She stopped speaking, probably to regain her breath, and soon had the small coffee table set neatly with two china mugs, two small jars - one with tea and one with milk - a plate of sandwiches and another with biscuits and an assortment of dainty little cakes, all of which were clearly home-made.
Having poured the tea, she stated firmly, ‘Now, get on with it. I’ll take the wee pets and give you peace to get things organised. And you’ve likely been too anxious to get here to stop and feed them, so give me what it is they get and I’ll do the needful.’
With Brian seemingly struck dumb by this chattering avalanche, Roselle had to make an effort. ‘It’s very kind of you, Mrs … um …’
‘Milne.’
‘We’re really grateful to you, Mrs Milne, for all this, but we can’t expect you to look after the twins as well.’
‘No arguments, I’m looking forward to it.’ Waiting until the younger woman had handed her a shoulder bag that obviously held the necessities for the babies, she raised her eyebrows at Brian. ‘If you’d be as good as carry one of the little cots, I’ll take the other one.’
For a moment, it was as if he would refuse, but he got to his feet reluctantly and lifted both cots. ‘Lead the way, Mrs Milne.’
He returned in less than five minutes and plonked down wearily on one of the well-worn armchairs. ‘Nosey old bitch!’
‘Oh, she wasn’t being nosey. She was being neighbourly and I’m glad she came. I was starving.’ She grabbed another sandwich as he reached for the plate. ‘And we’ll get so much more work done with the twins out of the way.’
He nodded. ‘I suppose you’re right, darling.’ He studied her as he ate. Her cheeks, so pale for days, had a little tinge of pink in them; her deep blue eyes were brighter. She even held her head higher, although tresses of her usually well-coiffed blonde hair were straggling round her face. His heart went out to her. She’d come through so much, and he was glad that she couldn’t remember what had happened. It had all been so sudden, although he’d planned the move for over a year with no definite date in mind, but fate had played into his hands. It was as if it had all been arranged, and it had gone so smoothly, he could hardly believe it. As long as she didn’t regain her memory, everything would be hunky-dory, though he’d have to make sure she’d didn’t get too friendly with Mrs Milne. That woman would probably keep asking things until she winkled the whole sorry business out …
‘They seem a nice young couple,’ Mrs Milne was telling her husband. ‘Mind you, Frank, I think he’s the boss - I wouldn’t like to get up his wrong side. I don’t think he trusted me, but she’s a quiet wee thing, wouldn’t say boo to a goose, so we’ll get along fine.’
Frank took off his glasses and laid them on the low mantelpiece. ‘Give her a bit of space, though. You can be overpowering at times, Helen.’
‘She’s hiding something, I can tell that, and he’s scared she’ll give the game away.’
‘Och, woman, it’s love stories you should be reading instead of all that crime stuff.’
‘Maybe, but I know I’m right, and I bet I’ll manage to get round her.’ She turned to look down at the twin carrycots by her feet. ‘They’re little darlings, aren’t they, and they don’t look like twins, which is likely a good thing for them.’
‘Why? What’s wrong with twins looking like twins?’
‘People would get them muddled, of course.’
‘Only if they were dressed the same, and from what I can see, there’s a pink one and a blue one. A girl and a boy, I’d say.’
‘Clever dick! You think you know everything, Frank Milne.’
‘I stop and think before I open my mouth, that’s why.’
They looked at each other now and laughed softly. Thirty-odd years of marriage had taught them never to let a small tiff develop into a full-blown row. ‘I’m just glad they’re a young couple, though, and we’ll see the babies grow up. They should keep us young, too.’
Lifting his newspaper and reaching for his spectacles, her husband just said, ‘They’ve rented the house furnished, remember. They likely don’t mean to stay very long.’
In the next-door cottage, two exhausted people were enjoying the last of the food and tea they had been given. ‘Thank goodness that’s everything put away,’ sighed the man. ‘I’ll just have ten minutes, before I collect our wee demons.’
‘They’re not demons. They’ve been really good.’
‘I’m only teasing. To be honest, I’m astonished at how well they’ve behaved. They’ve been moved about from pillar to post, different places, and so many strangers speaking to them and fussing over them. Still, from tomorrow, it should be plain sailing, and they’ll get used to a steady routine.’
Roselle watched him as he lay back and closed his eyes. He seemed oddly unfamiliar, she couldn’t understand it. His dark hair was not as tidy as it usually was, his eyes had seemed to be a lighter shade of blue, his face was leaner, but, of course, they’d been on the move for what seemed like forever. But it did worry her that her memory wasn’t to be depended on. She couldn’t remember anything of her life until she was in that small hotel in London with the babies, waiting for her husband to come back from whatever he’d nipped out to do. Any time she mentioned this, he held her closely and assured her that it was nothing to worry about. She had come through a terrible ordeal and memory loss was how that kind of thing affected some people.
‘Don’t try to remember,’ he had urged her. ‘It’ll all come back to you some day, but only if you give it time.’
‘But I want to know what happened,’ she had persisted. ‘It’s awful being like this. I couldn’t even remember my own name, or yours, or the babies’. But you told me all that, so why can’t you tell me the rest?’
‘All the doctors we saw told us the same thing. Your condition is a fairly normal reaction to trauma, and it will improve as time goes by.’
Why could no one tell her what the trauma had been? It was the not knowing that worried her. Surely doctors should have known that? Not that she could recall ever having been seen by doctors. Her life seemed to have started on the day she woke up in that hotel, with someone at the door shouting, ‘Open up, darling. It’s me, Brian.’
Remembering, she had the same feeling of bewilderment at a name that was familiar, but at the same time strangely unfamiliar.
‘Yes, your husband. Come on, Roselle, don’t play silly beggars with me.’
She had risen and opened the door, but hadn’t recognised the man who came in and took her in his arms. ‘Oh darling, you had me worried. Are you all right?’
It had taken him some time to understand what she told him, and even then, he didn’t seem to be convinced that it wasn’t a joke. Maybe he had taken her to see a doctor after that, or more than one doctor, but that was a blank to her as well. That was little more than a week ago, of course, so maybe she hadn’t let enough time pass. Maybe she was expecting too much of herself. But at least Brian couldn’t have been more considerate and caring, helping with the babies. There wasn’t much she could recall of the journey here, though; only that it had taken two days.
Jerking up suddenly, Brian said, ‘I’d better collect the last of our luggage from the old dears next door - only joking.’
She smiled as he went out. Yes, they were part of the luggage, the little darlings - the most important part.
Chapter Two
Roselle knew better than to remind Brian that this was the afternoon she took the twins round to see Helen. She was aware that, even after four years, he was still inclined to be unhappy about the friendship, but he’d never ordered her to stop it. In any case, she wasn’t doing anything wrong, and the Milnes treated the kids like grandchildren; and she sometimes felt as close to them as if they were her parents. It crossed her mind then that perhaps that was what she was doing wrong. Maybe Brian was jealous. Well, too bad if he was. He’d just have to lump it.
Her conscience gave a twinge. He was a good husband and a good father, and she really had no reason to complain. If only he would help her to remember.
‘Come away in, my lovies,’ Helen beamed. ‘Frank’s out in the garden …’ She broke off with a laugh as the small boy and girl scrambled past her, heading for the back door. ‘You can give me a hand, if you like, Roselle, but we’ll have a wee drop sherry first.’
The little tipple had become a habit, a welcome habit, during which Roselle very occasionally - and unwittingly - gave the older woman slight hints of her troubled mind, although no matter how hard Helen tried, she couldn’t get her to talk about herself. As she had often remarked to Frank, ‘Something bad must have happened to her, but she won’t speak about it. I could maybe help her, but …’
‘I’d a letter from my sister in Chicago yesterday,’ she observed now. ‘Georgina, Georgie we always called her.’
‘Yes, I remember you telling me before. She’s younger than you, isn’t she?’
‘She was the baby - an afterthought, my father used to tease her. I’m nearly fifteen years older, and Lavinia’s two years older than me. It’s funny. I hardly ever see her, though she’s only twenty miles away.’ She took a breath before asking, ‘Do you have any brothers or sisters?’ It was something that she brought up occasionally, hopefully, but always in vain.