Authors: Jean S. MacLeod
Her words trailed off in despair. Alison didn’t know what to say to be of any comfort to her.
“But, Tessa—” she began, only to be stopped by the look in the wavering dark eyes.
“All right,” Tessa said beneath her breath, “I can walk! I can hobble a yard or two on my own without dragging my foot. I can even manage a mile or so on skis. So what? Do you think that’s going to be enough for a man? A girl who’s always tired halfway through the day. I’ve got to be a whole person again, able to walk and run and dance,” she added almost desperately. “Half measures are no good to me. That’s why I won’t go to Inverness with Huntley. I want to be sure.”
There was an odd reserve about the last few words, a suggestion of playing for time.
“But surely this is something you can’t decide for yourself,” Alison objected. “Surely the specialist is the final answer?”
“Not quite.” Tessa’s expression was withdrawn. “I don’t need a specialist to tell me when I can begin to live again.” Suddenly her resistance crumbled and her face became distorted with emotion. “I could be so wrong,” she cried. “Hoping and hoping when it isn’t any use!”
“Do you mean hoping that Huntley will love you completely one day?” Alison asked in a strangled undertone. “If you do, Tessa —if you do this isn’t the way to go about it.”
“Huntley could never love anyone again,” Tessa muttered. “Oh, you can’t understand, and—I couldn’t tell you.”
She ran into the house, not even remembering to walk slowly. Alison got into the jeep and drove away.
Gilbert Searle gazed at his daughter across the width of the Lodge kitchen.
“What is it now, Tessa?” he asked.
“I won’t go to Inverness,” she informed him sullenly, “no matter who says so—you or Huntley or anybody!”
“You must go one day.” The Major was upset. He hated rows. “You can’t go on just avoiding the issue for ever.”
She swung round to face him.
“What are you trying to say?” “You’ll have to tell Huntley the truth.”
She looked stricken.
“What do you know?”
“I know you’re holding him to a promise he shouldn’t be made to keep,” he answered slowly.
Tessa stared at him.
“He was the cause of my accident,” she pointed out bitterly.
He put a gentle hand on her arm.
“Think about it, Tessy,” he said. “Think carefully.”
She tried to avoid his touch.
“You don’t know,” she exclaimed. “You could never understand!”
“I wonder,” he said quietly.
“If I do go—” Tessa turned to the window. “If I let Huntley persuade me, it doesn’t mean anything.”
“Of course not.” Her father started to clean his waders, not pressing the point. “It’s always best to take one step at a time.”
It was several days, however, before any of them could leave the glen. The snow fell relentlessly, clothing the hills in a mantle of white. The firs along the burn-side were heavy with it, weighted down above the black channel of the water, and the silence could almost be felt.
When it finally ceased it was a pleasure to drive in the crisp, fresh air. The jeep was so easy and the roads were being used by the timber people again. Huntley, too, was out and about. Alison met him frequently, driving from Sterne or coming up from the Lodge. Once she saw him skiing with Tessa on the upper reaches of the moor. He was helping her and she seemed to be enjoying the recreation. Her laughter rang out like a bell on the windless air. It was like a challenge. One day she would be well enough to keep up with Huntley. One day quite soon!
It was another week before Alison could attempt the journey to Wick again. She considered phoning Jim to come for her, but decided that he would be too busy. It would hardly be fair to expect him to make the long trip if he had other business commitments, she reasoned.
Which meant that she would have to ask Huntley’s permission to use the jeep, at least as far as Berridale, where she could pick up the local bus.
Feeling that she was going to be constantly under one obligation or another to him, she made her way to Sterne. It wasn’t quite dark and a full moon lay hooped on the horizon. It swung clear as she reached the promontory, floating like a gigantic lantern above the sea. Sterne stood out in the pale yellow glow of it, remotely white above the dark rocks where the waves broke endlessly.
Today there was no fury of wind and tide. A great stillness lay over everything, broken only by the cry of the gulls.
And the sound of music. She heard it even before she had reached the lighthouse, pouring out through the half-open door, a wild threnody of despair beating against the silence. It was brilliantly orchestrated and she struggled to remember it, realizing that she was listening to a recording. Then, suddenly, it ceased. A thin thread of melody took its place and a woman’s voice drifted towards her. It was Leone’s voice. Leone singing again on a perfect recording!
That magnificent voice swelling, full and beautiful, to the heights of passionate desire kept her standing there, rooted to the spot, but when it ceased as abruptly as the concerto she turned and fled.
“Alison!”
Huntley had been too quick for her. Some sense of intrusion, some awareness of her presence, had brought him to the door. He stood looking after her, waiting for her to return.
Slowly she retraced her steps, conscious of his ravaged face and the fire of anger in his eyes.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“I came to ask if I might borrow the jeep.”
He laughed abruptly. It was a terrible sound.
“Was that all? You already had it.”
“I’d like to go to Wick tomorrow.”
“And I have to go to Inverness.” His voice was harsh. “Our
paths take separate ways.”
“If you need the jeep,” she said, “I can wait.”
“I shall be going by car, if we can get through. I’m taking Tessa.”
“I see.”
“Will you come in?” He held the door open.
She shook her head.
“No, I won’t intrude.”
“You think you would be doing that?” he asked.
“I don’t want to chance it. You’ve been so kind about— everything else.”
“You’ll be going to see your mother?”
“Yes.”
“I’d like to send her some flowers. Perhaps I could do that from Inverness.”
They stood looking at one another in the pale moonlight.
“I hope everything’s going to be all right,” Alison said. “For Tessa.”
“She has agreed to see the specialist.”
“Will it be—a final verdict?”
“I think so.”
“You must feel very anxious.”
“I think I know what the result will be.”
He walked with her to the jeep.
“You’ll take it all the way, of course,” he said. “There’s no point in you catching buses.”
She didn’t attempt to thank him again.
“I’ll be most careful,” she promised.
“See that you do,‘” he said. “We don’t want any more accidents.”
All the way to Wick she thought of him driving south, in the opposite direction, with Tessa by his side.
The road was difficult in places, especially between Lybster and Thrumster where it was exposed for miles to the ravages of the wind sweeping across open moorland. There were no sheltering trees, no deeply indented dales to break its savage fury,
but the jeep was a sturdier vehicle than the temperamental van. It got her through without mishap. She drove up to the hospital at three o’clock and was about to go along to her mother when the ward Sister hurried towards her.
“Matron would like a word with you, Miss Christie,” she said. “If you’d come this way, please?”
Alison caught her breath, all the blood draining out of her cheeks.
“Is anything wrong?” she asked unsteadily. “My mother—?” “Oh, no.” The Sister smiled reassuringly. “She’s made a wonderful recovery. I think that’s what Matron wants to speak to you about.” She opened a door. “If you would just wait in here for a few moments, I’ll see if she’s free.”
The relief of knowing that all was well made Alison’s legs feel weak. She sat down on the nearest chair, gazing out of the window at the snow-covered garden. In no more than a minute or two the door opened. “Matron will see you now.”
In the room across the passage a bright fire burned, reflected in the few pieces of good furniture and in the kindly, smiling eyes of the woman who faced her across the desk.
“Now, Miss Christie,” she said, “we have a decision to make. Your mother is well enough to go out next week, but she doesn’t want to go to our convalescent home. It’s understandable, I think. She would like to be sitting at her own fireside on Christmas Day. The point is, she won’t be capable of doing very much for herself for some time. She certainly can’t take over her former household duties right away. The older one becomes the longer one takes to recover from the shock of major surgery. I’m sure you will appreciate the fact. She must rest as much as possible, at least for a month.” She spread her hands in a small gesture of finality. “That’s the position. I should have advised the convalescent home for that length of time if I hadn’t felt that it might not be the answer in your mother’s case. Home has a tremendous pull for her and she seems to be most anxious to be there for Christmas. I might say it is almost an obsession with her.”
“I can understand it,” Alison agreed. “And we’ll manage
quite well. There’s Kirsty. She’s been with us for thirty years. My mother won’t have to do any work.” “What about yourself?” Matron asked. “I understand you
were studying in London.”
“That doesn’t matter,” Alison said quickly. “I gave up my scholarship. I’m home for a while. Till the spring, at least.
So, you see, it will be all right for her to come out whenever she can.”
The matron looked relieved.
“A good home atmosphere is often the swiftest cure,” she said. “You can come for her at the beginning of next week.
That will give her ten days or so to settle in at home before the festive season.” She rose to terminate the interview. “She has been a wonderful patient. Is she expecting her son home from Canada?”
Alison bit her lip.
“I think that must be her dearest wish,” she said.
“One understands about these things.” The matron held out her hand. “I may not see you again, Miss Christie, but I hope it won’t be very long before you are able to continue your career.”
“Thank you.”
Alison could think of nothing but the wonderful news she had just received, although she had to crush back the hurt about Robin coming home. Her mother’s most cherished wish might never come true.
Helen was sitting up in bed when she reached the ward. Bright-eyed and expectant, she greeted Alison with the question that was uppermost in her mind. “Am I to get home? They said I might.”
“You’ve made yourself such a nuisance that they’re turning you out as soon as they can. They’re glad to be rid of you!” Alison laughed, hugging her close.
“You don’t mean that, surely?”
“Of course not! They wanted to hold on to you in the convalescent home, but we couldn’t spare you. We need you at
Craigie Hill for Christmas.”
“Oh, wee dear! Wee dear!” Helen was fighting the tears of gratitude and relief. “You don’t know how I long for my ain fireside.”
“My goodness! We’ll have to polish it so that you can see your face in it!” Alison teased her affectionately. “We’ll be ready for you by Tuesday. Jim will bring you home in one of his taxis. I’ll pop round to Dyke Cottage now to make the arrangements.” “Cathie’s been visiting me a lot,” Helen said. “She’s a nice girl. I could have wished—”
She didn’t finish the sentence, but Alison knew that she was thinking about Robin and what an excellent wife Cathie would have made him.
“It doesn’t always turn out the way we want it, Mother,” she said. “Cathie seems to be contented enough with her career.”
“The bairns all like her, I hear,” Helen agreed. “And Jim needs her to keep the home together.”
“He’ll marry,” Alison said, “one day.”
Helen looked at her.
“He’s fond of you, Alison,” she said. “But maybe you don’t feel like settling down in Caithness.”
“I’ve—no time for that sort of thing just now.” Alison’s voice was sharp as she turned to the window. “Besides, you may be wrong. Jim has the look of a confirmed bachelor.”
“Not him!” Helen declared. “He’s waited longer than most, but I’ve never known a man who wasn’t improved by marriage. He’ll take a wife one of these days, just like all the rest.”
There was a knock on the door and a young nurse came in with a sheaf of flowers wrapped in Cellophane.
“For you, Mrs. Christie!” she said, laying them across Helen’s knees.
“Oh, my, aren’t they lovely!” Helen’s cheeks were flushed with pleasure, her eyes bright. “Do you think—?” Alison had found the accompanying card.
“They’re from Huntley—Huntley Daviot,” she said. “He promised to send them from Inverness. He went over there this morning with Tessa Searle. She’s seeing the specialist this afternoon.”