The Road to Rowanbrae (25 page)

‘Wait downstairs, I'll just be a few minutes.' He turned to his mother as the girl went out. ‘I didn't mean to tell Gina,' he said, sullenly, ‘but it was time she knew the truth about herself. She'll come back when she's cooled down.' Mysie, shaking now, wasn't so sure of that, but she still had to try to stop her son ruining his life. ‘Sandy, you can't tie yourself to that … she's not the kind of wife for you, you should know that.'

Sandy's face whitened with anger again. ‘I'm going to marry her, no matter what you say. I want to look after her and our child. I'm twenty-seven, Mother, and I've never had a penny of what Miss Wallace left in trust for me, but I'll ask Gregor tomorrow to let me have the whole five hundred, and I'll use it to buy a house and furniture.'

‘Oh, Sandy, you can't. You'll live to regret it if you do. She'll drag you down, after all the money Miss Wallace spent on your education so you could have a decent job, not to mention what I've had to …'

‘That's right. Cast up that you worked your fingers to the bone to keep me at the Varsity. Well, I didn't ask you to. It was your precious Gregor that planned my life for me. He'd have done anything to get you. He has always wanted you.'

‘Gregor has loved me for years,' she agreed, sadly, ‘but he never did anything to me that I couldn't have told the world without shame. He's a decent man, Sandy, a genuine man.'

‘Meaning I'm not? Well, maybe you're right. I've sown quite a lot of wild oats in my time, and I'm not marrying Libby out of decency, but because I lust for her, and I don't give a damn if that offends you. You're selfish, Mother, do you know that? Selfish to the very core. You don't like seeing anyone happy – you've even kept Gregor Wallace dangling on a string for years. I wonder if he'll think so much of you when you tell him that both your children have walked out on you. Maybe he'll walk out on you, too, and it'll serve you bloody well right!'

Mysie lost her self-control then. ‘Go ahead – leave! But don't think you can ever come crawling back here again.'

‘I'll never come back, don't worry about that.'

When he had stormed out, Mysie sank into the nearest chair, her stomach churning and her head reeling. She knew now who had kept her son out until the early hours, but what had she done to deserve this? Had she been selfish, like Sandy said? She hadn't thought she was – in fact, she'd considered herself very unselfish. Everything she had done since she came to Aberdeen had been for her children. The trouble was, Miss Wallace had spoiled them, and they'd taken it all for granted. But perhaps she
had
been selfish tonight as far as Sandy was concerned, since he loved the girl? But … he had admitted later that he lusted for her, and lust wasn't the same as love. When his lust was satisfied, there would be nothing, and he'd be left with a wife he was ashamed of.

And what about Gina? She was young and impulsive and could easily find herself in trouble. Who was this Campbell she had mentioned? Did she mean to marry him, or did she just intend to sleep with him? Mysie shuddered at this last thought, but how could she criticise when she had done the very same with Doddie? She had loved Doddie, though, and Gina hadn't sounded as if she loved this Campbell, so there was a difference.

Unable to face going to bed, Mysie recalled another occasion when she had agonised in a chair all night. She had felt then, as she did now, that it was the end of the world, but she had survived, and no doubt she would survive this. She didn't know how she got through the next day – even her young assistant asked if she was ill – but she went upstairs at the usual time to prepare supper for three. There was always the chance that Sandy and Gina would come back as if nothing had happened, and if they did, she would make no reference to what had been said the previous night.

Just after six, Mysie was sitting forlornly by the fire on her own when Gregor walked in. He went straight across to her and kissed her cold lips. ‘I had to come, Maisie. Sandy's been avoiding me all day, and he looks so upset that I wondered if anything was wrong here?'

She hadn't been prepared for this, and stood up weakly. ‘I can give you some supper, there's plenty.'

‘I can see you're upset, too. Sit down and tell me about it.'

She sat down, her fingers kneading the arm of her chair. ‘I don't really know where to begin, Gregor, but I'd better tell you first that Sandy and Gina both walked out last night.'

He looked thunderstruck. ‘Why? What happened?'

He listened sympathetically to her tearful account, then said, ‘Was it because of Gina that you always refused to marry me? You told me long ago that she wasn't your husband's, remember, and it made no difference to how I felt about you.'

‘That wasn't the reason,' Mysie whispered, her cheeks chalk white. ‘I'd better tell you everything, so you'll see I'm not the kind of woman you think I am.'

‘You're my kind of woman, so don't tell me anything else just now. You're in no state to think clearly.'

‘I want you to know, and it would be better coming from me than from the police.'

‘The police? For God's sake, Maisie, what have the police got to do with it?'

‘Let me tell you, and don't say anything till I've done.'

Mysie hadn't planned this, and had to ponder a moment before she began at the day of her wedding to Jeems. She didn't try to hide anything, nor to put the blame on anyone else, and the man sat silently, sick at heart but fascinated by her tale. It unfolded slowly – her distaste at Jeems's sexual demands, the meeting with Doddie, Jamie's death, her seduction by the young packman, the unwanted pregnancy, the confession to her husband. Her voice faltered over the terrible quarrel, but she ignored her listener's sharp intake of breath when she told him how Jeems had meant to rip her with the knife.

Reliving each fear-filled moment, she experienced the same horror as she had done at the time, but carried on doggedly – describing her astonishment at finding a different knife in her husband's side when she regained consciousness; her flight to Downies; the secret burial; the aborting of the packman's child; and, finally, the love and comfort that Doddie had given her. She stopped there, because she had already told him and his aunt the rest many years ago.

Her head had been down all the time she was talking, but she raised it now and looked at him pitifully. ‘So you see, I'm not worthy of any man's love, and I'll understand if you want to go away and leave me, too.'

His eyes regarded her compassionately. ‘Maisie, my dearest, I'll never leave you, no matter what you've done. You've had a terrible life, and you need me to care for you.'

‘But does it not worry you that I might have killed Jeems?'

‘I don't believe you did, but I wouldn't care if you had. Oh, Maisie, now that you've told me everything, there's nothing to stop us being married.'

‘I'm not fit to be your wife, Gregor, and apart from anything else, it would be the same as Sandy marrying Libby. It would never work. I'm working class and I would drag you …'

His kiss stopped her, then he said, ‘You are more of a lady than many of the so-called upper-class ladies I know, Maisie. Everything you did was because of circumstances beyond your control. Oh, my dearest dear, I know I said I would never ask again, but …'

She laid her finger on his mouth. ‘Let me do it this time, Gregor. I've known for a long time now that I love you, and I've dreamt of being your wife, so if you still love me …?'

‘Oh, Maisie, I've never stopped loving you since the day I first saw you at Burnlea House. But are you sure that's what you want to do? Is it not because you are emotional about your children leaving you? I don't want to take advantage of that.'

Putting her arms round his neck, she said, ‘Maybe that's what brought it to a head, but I do love you, and I want to be your wife more than I've ever wanted anything in my life before.'

For the next ten minutes, they kissed and caressed like shy young lovers, whispering tenderly to assure each other of their undying love, until Gregor firmly disengaged her arms. ‘You have made my dreams come true, my dearest, but we still have one big problem to discuss.' Making her sit down, he took the chair on the other side of the fireplace, his face serious now. ‘I hate to bring this up again, but we have to consider every aspect. I know how worried you were when Jess told you that your old house was being pulled down – is there any likelihood of your husband's body being found?'

Her new-found happiness dissolving, Mysie muttered, ‘Jess says no, for the new folk are using the byre as a shed, and nobody would think of digging up the floor of a shed. Nobody would, would they, Gregor?'

‘I shouldn't think so. Now, have you any idea at all who could have killed him?'

‘Jess said we could blame Doddie if the body was ever found, because nobody could touch him now, but I'm sure she doesn't think it was really him.'

‘What about you? Do you think he did it?'

‘There was nobody else it could have been – I've been sure for years it wasn't me.'

‘Do you think anyone else in Burnlea knows Jeems is dead?'

‘They believed me when I said he'd left me, but I think some of them began to think he committed suicide because he thought it was his fault Jamie died.'

‘They don't know anything for certain, though, so perhaps we should do as I suggested some time ago and have him publicly presumed dead. That would make it appear that you thought he was still alive, and no one would think you had anything to do with his death if his body is ever found. I'll have that done, then we can be married quietly.'

‘I can hardly believe it's all over.'

‘You've nothing to be afraid of now, and you can come back to Ashley Road as my wife. Oh, I've waited so long for this.'

He held her to him as she burst into noisy sobs. ‘That's right! Cry it all out of your system then banish it from your mind completely.'

When she recovered, Mysie looked up at Gregor questioningly. ‘What if Sandy and Gina want to come back to me? Would you be willing to have them living in your house?'

‘You know I would, and it's
our
house now. I hope they do come back, but try not to be too disappointed if they don't. Just remember that I love you with all my heart.'

Over the next month, Mysie kept hoping that at least one of her children would come home, but her hopes were shattered by two wedding announcements which appeared within days of each other in the
Evening Express
. The first read: ‘At Torry Church on 12th October, Alexander Duncan to Elizabeth Baxter, both of Menzies Road, Torry.'

Gregor seemed to be genuinely amazed when she read it out to him. ‘He didn't tell me about it, Maisie. He doesn't speak to me except to consult me on business, and I didn't want to stir things up by asking him anything. I'm sorry, my dear. I know how you must be feeling.'

‘It's not your fault.'

The second intimation was longer. ‘On 16th October 1934, at St Mary's Catholic Cathedral, Huntly Street, Campbell Bisset, younger son of Mr and Mrs Douglas Bisset, Patagonia, Cults, to Gina Duncan, Ashley Road.' Hurt that neither her son nor her daughter had given their proper addresses – Sandy had been too stubborn and Gina too snobbish – Mysie had to accept that she had lost them, and was grateful for Gregor's strength to see her through her darkest hours.

In March, Maudie Low, now Mrs Buchan, informed Gregor that her husband had bought a small house. ‘He's always wanted us to have a place of our own, and we've been saving for years, but I'll stay on till you find another housekeeper.'

‘No, no, that's not necessary. I'm hardly ever here, anyway.' Gregor's cheeks reddened shyly. ‘I haven't told you yet, but Mrs Duncan and I are to be married.'

‘Oh, that's good news! You're needing somebody, and I used to think you'd a soft spot for Mrs Duncan when she was here.'

He laughed. ‘I've had a “soft spot” for her for a very long time, Maudie, since before the end of the war, in fact.'

‘Well I never! Why didn't you ask her to marry you before? Oh, I'm sorry! I'm forgetting my place.'

‘I did ask her, several times, and I am very happy that she has said yes at long last. I expect she will want to engage her own housekeeper, so there is no reason why you shouldn't move into your own home whenever you want.'

‘And there was me worrying about leaving you in the lurch. Well, if you're sure, we'll move out in two weeks.'

Mysie laughed about this when he told her. ‘I won't need a housekeeper, Gregor. I'll be my own housekeeper.'

‘I don't want you doing anything, my dearest. I can afford a housekeeper, and a maid – more than one, if you like.'

‘But I want to do everything for you myself, and the house isn't really big enough to need one maid, never mind two.'

‘It would have been better if I'd sold it and kept on the one at Forest Avenue,' he observed, ‘but I felt that the house in Ashley Road, being smaller, would be easier to run.'

‘Well, I'll easily run it. We don't need a bigger house, not when there's only two of us.'

In April 1935, Mysie became Mrs Gregor Wallace and went to live with him in the house where Gina had been born. No one was there to welcome her – although Maudie had gone back that morning to clean up and to light the fire – but as soon as she walked through the door, the old familiar smell made memories, happy memories, come flooding back. A toddler twisting Miss Wallace round her little finger. A small girl dancing in the bedroom while an old lady clapped her hands. A boy doing his home lessons under a stern, watchful eye. A tall youth in a navy and gold school uniform. Her heart ached more than ever for her two children.