Face the Wind and Fly (19 page)

‘But he’s still there?’

‘Yes.’ She was deeply exhausted. All her energy had been sapped by the drain of adrenalin from her system.

‘Right.’ He stood up purposefully.

‘What are you going to do?’

‘Go and get him, of course.’

‘You can’t, it’s too dangerous. As soon as they know who you are— It’s no time for heroism. Don’t go, not yet anyway. He won’t come to any harm there. Let’s just think about this.’ When he hesitated, she said, ‘Will you clean up my face? Please?’

He dabbed on antiseptic, peering short-sightedly through his half-frame glasses. The tenderness of his ministrations touched her. Could they recover their old closeness? She caught his wrist and looked at him, hoping that a corner might be turned. ‘Andrew?’

She thought for a moment he might kiss her, but he drew away, stiffly. ‘There. Done. You go and shower. I’ll make fresh coffee.’

An opportunity had slipped away.

Whoever built Willow Corner had an eye for location. It was one of the first houses to be built in Forgie, it sat high on the hill so the views, particularly from the upper floor windows, rolled out for ever – south towards the Borders, north across the Forth to Fife, west to Edinburgh. Kate loved Willow Corner, but what she liked most was the way it inhabited the space in which it sat. A small burn ran across the northern reaches of the garden, then disappeared through a narrow culvert under the high stone boundary wall. A hundred yards further on, the little stream swelled in importance by flowing in the River Hailes, on its way to the sea. It was this stream – Forgie Burn – that nourished the willow trees after which the house had been named.

There were two willows – Salix alba ‘tristis’ – literally, ‘sad white willow’. She’d never thought of them as sad. She considered them beautiful. Ibsen, who knew every tree in the neighbourhood, once told her that willows were short-lived – by which, apparently, he meant around fifty years.

‘One of your trees must be a lot older than that, maybe eighty years,’ he’d informed her as they chatted over spades and forks down at the community garden, ‘It’ll need to be replanted some time, maybe even soon.’

The thought dismayed her, because the willows defined the house, but she could see what he meant. One tree drooped and spread magnificently, the older one was threadbare and shabby.

Sad white willows. After she’d showered, she walked down to the trees with a mug of coffee in her hand. The sun was bright now and there was a spot between the two trees that she really loved. Years ago, some previous owner had thrown together a seat here, rough-hewn but so perfectly suited to its environment that you almost didn’t notice it. The bench took advantage of a rise in the contours of the bank so that, even seated, it was just possible to glimpse the sea over the wall. But it was the view the other way that Kate liked best, back to the house. From here, its angles and corners jutted out with the confident assertion of ownership. This is our space, this is our land, they said, you are merely our caretaker.

A car turned into the drive and began a spluttering, crunching kind of progress up the gravel. She turned at the sound of the cough, and saw Ibsen’s rusting black estate car come to an apologetic halt by the front door.

Chapter Twenty

Ibsen had anticipated some kind of confrontation with Kate, he just hadn’t expected it would come so soon. Mind you, he should have known as soon as Ninian Courtenay rolled up with his pal Cuzzer, that there would be trouble.

Kids. Thought it would be cool to be in a protest.

‘Shouldn’t you two be at school?’ he asked as they appeared at daybreak with backpacks and sleeping bags, yawning.

‘Chill, Ibsen,’ said Cuzzer’s mother, Karen, the hippy-type Ibsen had seen at the meeting in Frank Griffiths’s house. ‘This will be an education for them. There aren’t many chances round here to get involved in something like this.’

Thanks goodness, Ibsen thought, swinging away.

Then Kate had appeared, swinging metaphorical nunchaku left, right and every which way and getting everyone inflamed.

He had to admire her – five foot three of utter fearlessness and complete conviction – but when she’d tripped and fallen, he’d experienced a surge of adrenalin like he hadn’t known for years.

Protect her!

Save her!

Get her out of here safely!

Who did he think he was? Tarzan?

Once she’d gone, he was able to reflect on matters more objectively. Kate was a wind farm engineer. He hated wind farms. All other things being equal, this shouldn’t keep them apart, but of course, things were not equal because Kate was a married woman. The attraction between them was undeniable, but what happened the other night on the moor was a one-off, she’d made that very plain.

‘Is Mum okay?’

Deep in thought, he hadn’t seen Ninian slipping away from Cuzzer and his mother. ‘Hi. Yes, she’s fine. She got away in her car.’

‘Cool.’

Ninian did not look like a boy who felt ‘cool’ about anything. All the bravado he’d displayed when he’d turned up a couple of hours ago had disappeared and he looked deeply uncomfortable. He’s only fifteen, Ibsen reminded himself, he’s a kid. ‘She’s worried about you,’ he said.

Ninian looked even more ill at ease.

‘Tell me,’ he said conversationally, ‘why you’ve come to the protest camp.’

‘Ah, they’re going to cut down the trees.’

‘And that’s a bad thing?’

‘Sure. Once they’re gone, they’re gone.’

He probed further and discovered that Ninian’s convictions were paper thin, no more than bits and pieces of half-understood arguments regurgitated from others, almost certainly Karen Cousins. When pushed, he found them difficult to substantiate.

‘It doesn’t worry you that you’re protesting about something your Mum’s doing? That’s her job – the job that no doubt keeps you in clothes and video games and pocket money?’

Ninian scowled and pulled his hood more closely round his head. ‘You’re here. Does it worry you?’ he said aggressively.

‘Yes, as a matter of fact it does, it worries me a lot. But I’m here for other reasons, that seem to me more important.’ They sat for a few minutes in silence, then Ibsen said, ‘What would you think about going home? Hey? I could run you back if you like.’

At the far side of the glade, they could just see Stephen, skinny as a lizard and just as nimble, scaling a tree and whooping.

‘I guess,’ Ninian said at last.

‘There’s your Mum, down by the willow tree,’ Ibsen said as he turned his old van up the drive at Willow Corner.

Kate had turned at the sound, stood up and started to walk towards them. When she spotted Ninian in the passenger seat, her mouth dropped open in astonishment.

Ibsen killed the engine and wound down the window, while Ninian creaked open the door and stepped out.

‘Hi Mum,’ he said, tugging open the rear door and pulling out his backpack.

‘Hi!’ Kate’s greeting came out as a squeak.

Ninian slipped into the house without hug or apology.
Adolescents,
Ibsen thought, amused.

Kate’s expression was opaque. Was she mad at him for being at the camp, or did she still desire him as she undoubtedly had the other night?

‘He wanted to come,’ Ibsen said neutrally. ‘I think he was concerned for you.’

Her eyes widened but she said nothing.

‘And I think, because of the punch-up, he saw that the peaceful protest camp wasn’t perhaps quite so peaceful after all.’

‘Evidently,’ Kate said, her hand going subconsciously to her forehead.

‘Are you all right? It doesn’t look too bad.’

‘Andrew cleaned it up for me. I’m all right. Just tell me—’

‘You’re going to ask why I was there.’

‘Why were you there?’

‘I wanted to see what they were doing. And I wanted to show some support for the Woods.’

‘I told you that road was never seriously considered for the access route.’

‘It’s not the story that’s going round.’

‘Ibsen, can’t you—’

‘Hi there,’ Andrew said from behind her, ‘I take it we have you to thank for bringing our son back?’

She swivelled round.

‘I just gave him a lift,’ Ibsen said, relaxed.

‘Well, thanks.’ Andrew curled an arm round Kate and he could see surprise in her eyes. He had no real idea of what their marriage was like and he wasn’t sure he wanted to find out.

‘You’re very welcome.’ He wound the window up, turned the car briskly, and drove off.

Some instinct made him distrust Andrew Courtenay, though what it was he didn’t like he really couldn’t say.

Life is a series of goals, targets and building blocks. Sitting, feeding, talking. First steps, walking, running. Nursery, school, maybe university. Graduation from the top, new start each time at the bottom. Career-driven professionals take it for granted that the natural way is to keep on rising. It was certainly an assumption that Kate had made. In the biggest post-graduate college of all – life – she had gone from promotion to promotion and been handed bigger and more challenging projects year on year, and she had every expectation of continuing to rise.

She dropped Ninian off at the school gates and drove on to work.

‘Kate? In here a minute please.’ Mark Matthews beckoned her into his office and closed the door. He pointed at her forehead. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Fine. Sorry I’m late. I went up to take a look at this protest camp in Bonny Brae Woods.’

‘I know.’

‘You know?’

‘We’ve had a complaint. One of the protestors, a woman called Karen Cousins. She says you were very aggressive.’

‘That’s not true! I was annoyed with my son—’

‘Your son? He was there?’

Kate bit her lip. She hadn’t intended to tell Mark that Ninian had joined the camp. ‘It’s all right. He’s back home now.’

‘It’s hardly all right. This woman tells us she’s going to speak to the press.’

For the second time that day, Kate’s legs refused to hold her vertical. She sank onto a chair. ‘Oh.’

‘I need hardly tell you, Kate, that aggression in these circumstances is not something we expect of our senior managers.’

‘No. Absolutely not. I was only angry with Ninian.’

‘But that’s not how it came across.’

‘Don’t you see, Mark? These people are twisting the facts. That’s what they do. That’s the very basis of their whole approach.’

‘I know, but I need to give you a warning. Control your temper, Kate, no matter what the provocation.’

She stood up. ‘I will. I promise.’

‘Right.’

She thought that was it. She called a meeting of the team and they spent much of the morning discussing their strategy for dealing with the eco camp and its band of so-called warriors.

At one o’clock, a shout came from Mark’s office. ‘Kate! In here.
Now
.’

Alarmed, she hurried across to his office. A small television in the corner was switched on and a reporter was saying, ‘—and meanwhile, in Scotland, protestors at a camp set up to protest against planned destruction of an ancient oak wood by wind farm developers have been involved in a scuffle with a representative of the company concerned, AeGen.’

She gaped at the screen, horrified. But what came next was worse, far worse. A slightly blurry image of a small, wildly gesticulating woman –
her
– shouting and screaming.

‘—this is completely out of order. It’s not only inappropriate and unnecessary, it’s just bloody
stupid.
You’re being stupid! Can’t you see? You’re all idiots! Misinformed, misguided, gullible, bigoted, sodding delinquents!’

‘A spokeswoman for AeGen refused to comment. This is —’

Mark flicked the television off and looked at her.

‘They’ve taken it out of context, Mark, don’t you see?’ she stuttered, appalled. ‘I was talking to—’

‘To your son. You said. But it doesn’t make the slightest difference, Kate. This is what the world sees.’

‘I gave instruction that the access road—’

‘We’re not talking about who did or didn’t do something, Kate. We’re talking about your behaviour, in public, in the media. Get your handbag, Kate. Leave everything else on your desk. I’ll take you to the front door, there’s no need for me to call security, but I’m going to have to suspend you while we consider what action to take.’

Kate lifted her chin, shocked. There was nothing she could do, but the facts were all on her side. It would all be sorted and she’d soon be back at her desk.

She could feel a dozen pairs of eyes staring at her back as she walked the long walk through the open plan office. Lisa, Gail, Jack – each would have a different expression, each would hide a different sentiment, but each one of them would be sending up a small prayer of thanks that they were not in her shoes.

Andrew was less than sympathetic. ‘I don’t know what you thought you were doing, Kate, racing off down there without even waking me to discuss it.’

‘Call it a moment of impulsiveness.’

‘Or foolhardiness.’

She sighed. Andrew was infuriatingly right.

‘So what’s going to happen?’

‘I don’t know. They’ve suspended me. Until they make a decision, there’s nothing I can do.’

‘Are they paying you?’

She stared at Andrew. He wasn’t normally mercenary. ‘Full pay. For the moment. Anyway, it’s immaterial. It’ll all be sorted out in a few days.’

‘That’s something, I suppose. So what’ll you do?’

‘Do? As in fight back?’

‘As in from getting up in the morning to going to bed at night.’

This was a new thought to Kate. For the first time since the summer she’d spent hiking round Europe before going to university, she was going to have time on her hands. She looked around distractedly.

‘I’ll paint the kitchen.’

‘What?’

‘It’s looking shabby. I hadn’t noticed. I’ll paint it.’

‘You’ve never painted anything in your life.’

‘So? It can’t be difficult.’ She touched a patch on the wall by the back door where years of bodies brushing past had left a grubby gray mark. ‘See what I mean? And here?’ She indicated black streaks at the base of the door. She had a habit of coming in with shopping and kicking the door shut behind her.

‘We can get a decorator in if it disturbs you.’

‘No, I can do it. I’ll start tomorrow.’

‘I hope it’s not going to interfere with my writing.’ Andrew was scowling. He wasn’t given to sulking so it was not an expression she saw much, but it underscored the resemblance to Ninian so thoroughly that she couldn’t help laughing.

‘What’s so funny?’

She reached a finger up and smoothed away the vertical line between his brows. ‘You. Ninian. The pair of you. I suppose Ninian can blame his moods on hormones, but you don’t have any such excuse. I won’t get in your way, Andrew, I promise you. And don’t you think I’m the one who has the right to scowl, not you?’

‘Will you look for another job?’

‘No, why should I? I have every intention of getting my own job back.’ She couldn’t believe that this morning’s suspension was anything other than a formality, a show for the rest of the world that some action had been taken. She would get a formal warning, that was all. ‘By Monday I’ll be back at AeGen. In the meantime, we’ll have a freshly decorated kitchen.’

A little to her surprise, Harry and Jane appeared after supper. Harry didn’t call often, and certainly not uninvited. He was a man for formalities, for dates and diaries and arrangements. Perhaps Jane’s influence was more extensive than she had imagined and some spontaneity was being injected into her plodding stepson.

Andrew thumped Harry on the shoulder. ‘Hello, Harry. To what do we owe the pleasure?’

 She kissed Harry’s cheek and embraced Jane. ‘Hi! Come in!’

They sat in the living room, which felt cold and unused. It was a summer room, with its cool blue decor and draughts they had never been quite able to eradicate. She ignited the gas flame fire, switched on small lamps and drew the heavy curtains so that the room began to be more welcoming.

‘Glass of wine? Coffee?’

‘Nothing, thank you, Kate. We’ve just finished eating.’

She sat down, disappointed. A show of hospitality would have kept her busy and useful – and established her position as mistress of the house. Ridiculous, of course, that she needed to feel that, after all these years as Andrew’s wife.

There was some idle chat – ‘How’s work?’ – ‘How are the wedding plans coming on?’ – and after half an hour Kate began to wonder what the visit was about. Perhaps they needed a loan, but were loath to ask. Weddings weren’t cheap. Kate wondered if she should offer. It wasn’t, perhaps, the best time, in the light of today’s events.

Harry said, ‘We had a visitor yesterday.’

‘Oh?’

‘Yes.’ He glanced at Jane, as if for encouragement, then ploughed on determinedly. ‘Jane’s cousin Sophie came round.’

If the atmosphere in the room had been chilly before, it certainly dropped another few degrees now. Kate hardly dared to look at Andrew’s face and she knew her own was paralysed.

‘She was in a terrible state. We’re quite worried about her. Her last relationship broke down quite acrimoniously and she rather fell apart.’

Kate and Andrew stared at him. Kate had a deep sense of dread, and heaven knows what Andrew was thinking. She didn’t dare look at him.

Harry turned to his father. ‘She claimed that you and she are having some kind of affair.’