Authors: Frederic Lindsay
'At
the
end
of
my
first
year's
stint
as
a
lecturer,
pretty
was
what
counted.’
There
was
silence
for
a
while,
and
when
she
stole
a
glance
at
him
he
was
frowning
so
that
she
expected
him
to
make
some
grumble
about
the
flat
spread
of
the
familiar
landscape.
Instead,
he
said,
'I
found
him
a
place
to
stay
in
Edinburgh.’
'Who?'
'Monty
Norman.
It'll
be
convenient
if
he
goes
to
work
with
the
Trust.’
Round
the
long
curve
of
the
road,
she
could
see
the
hill
that
rose
into
their
village.
'I
thought
I
might
put
it
to
the
Committee
next
week.’
They
began
the
sharp
brief
ascent.
'Do
you
mind?'
'No
.’
As
they
came
level
with
the
inn,
he
braked
and
swung
the
car
across
the
road
into
their
drive.
'I
don't
know,'
he
said.
He
switched
off
the
engine
and
the
silence
buzzed.
'I
don't
know,
it's
only
an
idea.
Nothing
settled.’
'Put
it
to
the
Committee.’
'I
don't
know
…
'
'I
want
you
to,'
she
heard
herself
saying.
'I
want
you
to.’
Inside
he
found
her
sitting
at
the
table
in
the
kitchen,
hand
shading
her
eyes
from
the
light.
'I'm
sorry,'
he
said.
'I
didn't
realise.’
He
rubbed
gently
at
the
nape
of
her
neck.
'It's
just
that
if
you
promised
…
'
'Rest
for
a
bit.
I'll
help
you
upstairs
in
a
little
while.’
His
thumbs
pressed
and
stroked,
again,
again.
'…I'll
probably
go
through
with
it
...
The
Norman
thing
...
See
what
happens
...’
She
felt
better.
'Like
a
duckling,'
she
said,
her
voice
muffled
as
her
head
hung
forward.
'Sorry?'
'Sam
Wilson
.
That
winter
five
years
ago
on
the
University
loch.
Skating
behind
you
like
a
duckling
following
the
mother
duck.’
'Everyone
waiting
to
see
if
it
would
bear
our
weight.
All
that
space
to
ourselves.
It
was
like
flying.’
'I
expected
every
moment
to
see
you
vanish
through
the
ice.’
'You
should
have
come.
I
would
have
supported
you.’
He
glowed
for
her
again
in
memory
sliding
against
the
keen
rapture
of
the
wind.
'
Perhaps
if
we'd
been
on
our
own.
But
with
all
those students
there
–
I
didn't
want
to
collapse
in
front
of
them
all,
let
you
down.
Perhaps
if
it
freezes
again
this
year,
I'll
try.
Shall
I?
It
could
happen
this
year
with
ice
there
already – We
should
check
on
the
rowan
berries.
And
the
starlings.’
'No,'
he
said,
so
softly
she
turned
her
head
a
little
to
hear,
'that
winter
won't
come
back
again.
You
have
to take
it
while
it's
there.
Chapter 3
The
stairs
curved
up
out
of
sight.
There
was
a
door
facing
her
and
another
in
the
corner,
but
she
knew
that
Julian
Chambers
would
come
down
from
above
to
greet
her
and
lead
her
up
to
the
first
floor
where
he
preferred
to
have
his
room.
There
were
magazines
on
the
low
table,
but
she
was
passing
the
time
by
listening.
'There
is
the
other
possibility,'
the
woman
was
saying to
the
girl
at
the
desk.
She
was
neatly
dressed
in
a
black
coat
which
had
been
expensive
when
it
was
bought
a
little
too
long
ago.
'They
open
my
letters.
You
see
the
implication?
It's
the
other
possibility
for
the
money,
isn't
it?'
'I've
explained
Mr
Thomson
isn't
available
this
morning.’
Pulling
a
face
of
wry
irritation,
the
girl
glanced
at
Lucy,
who
refused
the
conspiracy.
The
woman
was
a
client
of
the
firm.
It
was
really
too
bad.
She
was
sure
Julian
Chambers
would
not
approve
of
the
woman
being
slighted
in
this
way.
'Mr
Thomson,'
she
lowered
her
voice
cunningly,
'has
to
be
told.
In
case
anything
happens
to
me.
But
I
couldn't
tell
you,
it
wouldn't
be
safe.’
'There's
no
chance
of
seeing
Mr
Thomson,'
the
girl
said.
'Mr
Byers
could
have
a
word
with
you.’
As
if
on
cue,
the
door
in
the
corner
opened
and
a
plump
smooth
young
man
in
a
three-piece
suit
came
out,
crying
as
he
came,
'Now
then,
Mrs
Willis.
If
you
come
with
me,
we
can
chat
about
whatever's
upsetting
you.
'
'It's
wicked
of
them.
It's
not
possible
for
me
to
live
on what's
coming in.
It
was
never
like
this
when
Jim
was
alive.’
'Ah,
well,
let's
you
and
I
go
over
things.
I'm
sure
we
can
set
your
mind
at
rest.’
His
tone
was
kindly
and
patient
and
very
satisfied
with
its
patience
and
content
with
its
kindness.
Before
he
whisked
her
inside,
he
did
not
resist
the
glance
about
him
of
an
actor
in
search
of
applause.
'She's
been
in
already
this
morning,'
the
girl
at
the
desk
said.
'I
warned
them
somebody
would
have
to
deal
with
her.
I
can't
be
expected
to
do
it
on
my
own.
I
have
work
to
do,
too.’
'It
seems
very
sad,'
Lucy
said.
'I
suppose
it
isn't
possible
that
there
is
something
wrong
with
her
money?'
The
girl
shook
her
head
dismissively.
'There
may
not
be
enough
of
it.
We
all
have
that
problem.
Her
husband's
dead
and
she
imagines
things.’
'It
must
be
hard
to
be
so
lonely.’
'Lonely,'
the
girl
repeated,
weighing
the
word
like
an
amateur
diagnosis.
Mad
then,
Lucy
thought.
I
don't
suppose
being
even
a
little
mad
is
easier.
Unless,
of
course,
you
were
a
happy
maniac.
I
believe
that's
possible.
I
wonder
if
mad
and
happy
is
preferable
to
sane
and
wretched.
That
poor
woman
–
not
very
sane
and
really
rather
wretched.
As
she
pondered
that,
Julian
Chambers
reached
over
the banisters
and
began
his
apologies,
which
went
on
until
he
arrived
before
her.
'So
busy
–
and
just
at
the
wrong
moment.
I
hadn't expected
you,
of
course.
If
I
had
known
…
Not
too
interminable
a
wait,
however?
It's
splendid
to
see
you
–
after
such
a
time,
and
looking
so
well.’
He
climbed
the
stairs
ahead
of
her,
his
lean
old
haunches
pumping
him
upwards
with
the
energy
of
a
schoolboy.
'It
must
be,
two
years,
is
it,
surely
not
three?'
He
stood
aside
and
going
into
the
familiar
room
she took
the
comfortable
chair
by
the
table
rather
than
one
of the
clients'
chairs
set
before
his
desk.
'Oh,
I
think
so,'
she
said.
'Quite
as
long
as
that.’
'Maitland
keeps
me
in
touch,
of
course.’
He
settled
himself
behind
the
desk,
folding
his
long
frame
almost
out
of
sight.
'I
ask
for
you.’
'You
look
the
same
to
me,'
she
said.
'You
never
change.’
'I
fancy
I've
done
so
since
our
first
meeting.
You
were
chuckling
in
your
mother's
arms,
and
were
quite
charming
in
a
christening
robe.
That
would
be
almost –
it
wouldn't
be
right,
would
it,
to
say
how
many
years?
It
would
be
ungallant.
Or
is
that
old-fashioned?
At
seventy-three,
I
feel I
can
allow
myself
to
be.’