Immersion in work is the answer, because Susie doesn’t have time to think about the headlines. And any time it looks as if she might have a slight lull, Karen finds something that requires urgent attention. By the evening, she’s exhausted. At six she switches off her computer and says rebelliously, ‘If I have to do another email today I’ll murder someone. I’m off home.’
‘Not yet you’re not,’ Karen says with grotesque cheerfulness.
‘Why not?’
‘You’ve got a reception.’
‘Really? Where? Who?’
‘Garden Lobby. Now. Creative Scotland. They’re launching a new strategy.’
Susie groans. ‘Another one?’
Karen laughs. ‘Just go on down. You’ll enjoy it once you get there.’
‘I’m bone tired.’ Susie considers confiding in her about Joyce Miles.
‘Suse?’ Karen picks up on her hesitation. ‘Something wrong?’
But her foray into her past still feels too private to relate, even to Karen. ‘Nothing,’ Susie lies. ‘I’ll go and grab a drink and schmooze a bit. I’ll probably perk up. You get home now. See you tomorrow.’
‘Okay. If you’re sure.’
‘Has Mo said anything?’
‘About the lesbian story? No. Well actually, yes – apparently one of the gay and lesbian organisations you’ve helped in the past has sent a message of support.’
Susie smiles wanly. ‘Well that’s comforting I guess.’ At the door she turns. ‘They do know I’m straight, don’t they?’
‘Susie my love, everyone knows you’re straight. Now go.’
The Garden Lobby is already full of people. In one corner, a string quartet is playing – students probably. She spies the new Director of Creative Scotland, a controversial appointment. On any other evening, she might have felt compelled to confront him, but tonight all she wants to do is move round as quickly as possible, make sure her presence is noted, then retreat to Cairn Cottage.
‘Susie!’ Across the room, someone is waving. She can’t see the face, but heads in the direction of the wave anyway, threading her way expertly through the throng. A gap in the crowd opens and she stops, dead.
It’s Maitland Forbes.
Maitland is standing directly under one of the spotlights in the ceiling of the Garden Lobby, and although he’s now a huge star and must surely be tonight’s guest of honour, he is, in this moment, completely alone. Susie stares at him, slack-jawed with shock. The past rewinds itself before her eyes like some speeded-up movie and she realises that her heart is pounding. She hasn’t seen Maitland since—
‘You haven’t changed one bit,’ he says softly, and although he barely whispers the words and the noise around them is high, she hears them as clearly as if he has shouted them.
‘Nor you,’ she says stupidly, and she knows they are both remembering the same thing.
Someone jostles her and the moment is gone. She is in public, at a reception, and the secret they have both kept for so long must remain a secret. She takes a step towards him and holds out her hands, bracing herself for the touch of his skin and saying with forced gaiety, ‘Maitland Forbes, by all that’s miraculous!’
He is still with Serafina, she knows that. She knows everything about him, she has read it over the years. The madcap youth may have defied Hollywood odds on marriage but he still makes headlines. ‘Still flying high? What did I see you in last? That Spielberg film? What are you doing back in Scotland? I thought you were a permanent fixture in Hollywood these days.’ She’s babbling. It’s nerves.
‘I’ve been bribed to be a front face for this thing.’
‘Really? The Creative Scotland strategy? It must have been a big bribe. You’re surely not so down on your uppers you have to stoop to this kind of appearance these days?’
Now she’s teasing him, which is a good sign – talking to him is getting easier with every minute. She knows, of course, that Maitland has made it big in Hollywood, that he finally broke free from the stereotype of the sardonic Brit abroad and is now playing more complex roles suited to an aging actor with real star quality. But she herself is now playing a role and she has to play it better than anything else she has ever done because to risk discovery of what happened all those years ago is unthinkable.
‘Let me look at you.’ She holds him at arm’s length and studies him. ‘You’ve worn well.’
‘Darling Susie, you’re the real star. Look at you! That hair’s as glorious as the day I met you –and those
eyes
! What are you doing buried away in this place?’
Susie manages to laugh. ‘It’s a vocation. Like acting, but with a different kind of audience.’
Maitland sighs. ‘That old social conscience thing. That’s why I’m here too, I guess, to do something for the homeland. I’ve been away too long.’ He pulls a wry face. ‘Of course, as soon as your First Minister found out I was taking a vacation here, he wanted to trot me out for public inspection.’
‘And here you are.’
‘Here I am,’ he agrees, his chiselled features breaking into a perfect grin.
He’s had a lot of dental work done since she saw him last. Only in America, Susie thinks, amused, are teeth as perfect as that.
‘So tell me about all this,’ he sweeps his wine glass out in a dramatic arc, taking in the whole of the Parliament. ‘Enjoying it?’
‘Mostly,’ Susie says dryly. ‘There are good days and bad days.’
His laughter rings out. ‘I read the headlines this morning. I thought it was hysterical. Susie Wallace, a lesbian!’
‘Not that funny,’ Susie says sourly. “Actually, it’s not being called a lesbian I mind, it’s the idea that I would conceal it if I was.’
‘Would a big snog help?’
He’s teasing
her
now. Her heart races, but she keeps her voice steady. ‘Well, that would certainly make a different kind of headline.’
‘How’s that man of yours? Still making music?’
She had thought that over the years the memories would have faded, but he has remembered and she’s touched by this. ‘Oh yes. He hit the big time a few years back.’
‘Celtic Rock. I’ve heard them. Great band.’
‘You’ve heard them?’ Then he must have followed her career too.
‘They’ve got quite a following in the States.’
‘He’s working on a new album.’
‘I’ll look out for it.’
He moves closer to her. He’s about to say something, but they are joined by someone, an oil executive Susie thinks, eager to meet the big star. They smile at him and nod, adjust their stance to admit him, but Maitland keeps on talking to her.
‘Remember Calgary Bay?
‘Of course.’ Her heart is pounding madly. How could she ever forget?
‘What was that island called again? The one where we did all the filming.’
‘Mull. Off the west coast of Scotland. ’
‘That’s the one. Perfect paradise, apart from those pesky midges. Ever been back?’
‘We took the children there a few times.’ She’d made Archie go. It had been a kind of test, the first time at least, a check to make sure it was all right, that she’d made the right decision, that the past was safely where it belonged. ‘I became really fond of it,’ she says honestly. ‘Tobermory. Iona. And Calgary Bay itself, of course.’
She hasn’t seen them coming, but the First Minister and the new Director of Creative Scotland are suddenly upon them, surrounded by a press pack – and right at the front is Justin Thorneloe. That little snake gets everywhere, Susie thinks, surely he must have heard our conversation. She glowers at him and is profoundly thankful for the presence of the oil executive – his arrival certainly prevented a more confidential chat.
‘I’d like to introduce Maitland Forbes, First Minister,’ the Director is saying ingratiatingly, butting into their conversation and completely ignoring Susie. ‘He’s kindly agreed to say a few words to our guests.’
Creep, thinks Susie, taking an instant dislike to the man. ‘Listen, Maitland,’ she says quickly, ‘You’re going to be busy. Give me a call will you? Maybe we can have lunch while you’re in Edinburgh.’
‘Honey, I’ll do that.’ Unfazed by the overbearing efforts to monopolise his attention, he envelopes Susie in a bear-hug. ‘What a wanker,’ he murmurs into her ear.
Susie stifles a giggle. She’s on safer ground now because she knows that although the memory of what happened is still vivid, each of them has long since moved on. The past is locked where it should be and she can take delight in the fact that he’s still the glorious, irreverent Maitland she once fell for – and finally resisted.
Maitland releases her and turns to the Director and First Minister. He says smoothly, but loudly enough for the press pack to hear, ‘Forgive me, but I’ve known Susie for ever. And by the way—’ he invests deep meaning into his voice, ‘— I can vouch for the fact that she’s no lesbian.’ Susie feels her diaphragm tighten, but Maitland goes on smoothly, ‘She’s an actress, you know.’
The First Minister guffaws, the Director smiles tightly and Susie sees the look on Justin Thorneloe’s face and almost laughs aloud. Thanks to Maitland, her day has just got a whole lot better.
They meet the next day. Is it a good idea? She has turned the matter over in her mind since his early morning call and is comfortable with her conclusion. It’s lunch, it’s public, their affair was a long time ago and in any case, almost no-one knew about it.
They are in Hadrian’s restaurant in the Balmoral, where he is staying. The Maitre d’ has found them a quiet corner, and although already one tourist has not been able to resist asking for an autograph, they are being left pretty much in peace.
‘So, Susie darling, bring me up to date. You’re saving the world with your passionate protection of the arts—’
‘Saving Scotland, Maitland. Only Scotland,’ Susie protests, laughing.
‘Scotland, then. What brought you to it?’
‘I could see things happening all round me that made me angrier and angrier. All the time Margaret-Anne and Jonathan were growing up, I witnessed services being cut, the things that seemed to me the most important being dismissed as if they didn’t matter.’
‘Like drama, you mean?’
‘Like drama. And music, and painting, and poetry. And singing. Do you know, hardly any schools have choirs any more. Singing is so liberating. We’re failing our children.’
Now it’s Maitland who’s laughing. ‘Darling, you’ve got my vote, I promise you. If only I had one.’
‘Sorry. I know I get carried away. Of course, it’s not just arts I get passionate about. It’s the many injustices I see, all the time. Petty bureaucratic decisions that ruin people’s lives. Wrapping everyone up in cotton wool to avoid lawsuits, so that no-one dares to risk anything any more and all we do is sit around getting fat. The rich creaming off profits and dodging taxes, while all the time blaming all the woes of the world on benefit scroungers.’
‘Quite the little socialist, aren’t you?’
‘I don’t define myself in those terms. I just deal with things as I see them.’
When the waiter fills their tiny coffee cups, then discreetly leaves them the pot, Maitland says unexpectedly, ‘What’s troubling you, Susie?’
She is startled. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Honey, I may not have seen you for years, but I know you well enough to see that you’re edgy. That article wasn’t the first little bit of nastiness, was it?’
Susie stares at him, amazed. ‘How do you—?’
‘I’ve seen it happen before, believe me. These people drop in more and more idiotic stories in the hopes that eventually their quarry will crack. Either it’s just malicious, or they’re really trying to get a bigger story they think is lurking there somewhere.’
‘Oh, God.’ It hasn’t occurred to her that this might be what’s happening.
‘Am I right?’
‘I’m not sure,’ she says slowly. ‘There is a journalist who’s being particularly troublesome, but—’
‘He doesn’t know about us, does he?’
‘Heavens, no!’ Horrified, she imagines the headlines screaming across huge spreads, the salacious gossip, speculation dressed up as fact, and the impact of it all on her family and her Party.
‘Does Archie?’
She shakes her head dumbly.
‘You never told Archie?’
‘No. By the time it was all over ... when we’d decided ... I saw no need. Did you tell Serafina?’
‘I tell Seri everything. I guess it’s why we’ve lasted.’
Susie weighs this. Archie has not been such an honest communicator, or he would have told her about the adoption.
‘Is there something else, Susie? Something this journo might know about?’
She shakes her head. ‘No!’ It comes out more forcefully than she intended.
‘You don’t have to tell me, darling.’
Maitland is outside it all, he’s only here for a few days and she knows she can trust him. She says, hesitantly. ‘I found something out recently. And ever since, things seem to have been going wrong. But I’m sure it’s just coincidence.’ She finds that talking is a huge relief.
‘Jeez, Susie,’ he says when she has stopped, ‘that’s some story. So have you met her? Your mother?’
Susie shakes her head. ‘Not yet, no. I’ve started writing to her a bit.’
‘And?’
‘It’s difficult.’
‘I guess it must be. Do you want to meet her?’
‘I’m not sure. I ... ought to want to.’
Maitland says softly, ‘What are you really afraid of, sweetie?’
Goodness, he’s perceptive. It occurs to her that Maitland is extraordinarily clever and that perhaps his madcap persona was deliberately constructed from the beginning. She says, hesitantly, ‘Maybe that it would make me a different person, in some way – and that I won’t like that person? It’s already made me look at Archie differently. Everything feels as if it’s shifting. The whole landscape of my life is unfamiliar. Sometimes I think I have to meet her, so that I can resolve everything that’s going round and round in my head. Other times I think I can’t bear the idea of meeting her because that would diminish all that’s happened in my life so far.’
Maitland goes to the heart of the matter at once. ‘I do think you’ve inadvertently opened Pandora’s box, darling, and now it’s impossible to stuff everything back into it.’
She thinks about that for a long time. At last she says quietly, ‘I guess I’m going to have to face my demons.’
‘Good girl. Is this story what’s at the bottom of all this newspaper stuff, do you think?’