Under Gemini (12 page)

As they got out of the car the cold struck at them, rich with the smell of sea, tarred ropes, and fish. The shack had “Sandy Soutar. Teas, Coffees, Snacks” written over the door, and a warm yellow light shone from the steamy windows.

They went in, stepping up by means of an old herring box. Inside it was very warm, and smelt of new bread and bacon frying, and from behind the counter a fat woman in a flowered overall looked up from her urn, saw Antony, and broke at once into a welcoming smile.

“Antony Armstrong. For heaven's sake! What are you doing here, turned up like a bad penny?”

“Hello, Ina. I'm home for the weekend. Could you give us some breakfast?”

“Well, of course. Sit down. Make yourselves at home.” She looked past him at Flora, her eyes bright with interest. “And is this your young lady you've brought with you? We heard you were going to be married.”

“Yes,” said Antony, and he took Flora's hand and pulled her forward. “This is Rose.”

It was the first time. The first lie. The first hurdle.

“Hello,” said Flora, and somehow, as easily as that, the hurdle was behind her.

6

JASON

Tuppy had been awake since five o'clock, expecting Antony and Rose since six.

If she had been well, she would have gotten up and dressed, gone downstairs into the silent sleeping house, and engaged herself in all the familiar routine jobs which she found so comforting. She would have opened the front door and let out the dogs and then gone into the kitchen to put on the kettle, all ready for a cup of tea. Back upstairs, she would have switched on the electric fires in the two prepared bedrooms and ehecked that all was ready and welcoming, with the bedcovers crisp and fresh, hangers in the wardrobes, and the drawers of the dressing tables lined with clean white paper.

Then down again to let in the dogs and give them biscuits and a little petting, to draw curtains, thus letting in the morning light, to stir the embers of the hall fire and lay on some more peat. All would have been warm and welcoming.

But she was old and now ill, and had to stay in bed while others performed those pleasurable tasks. Frustration and boredom gnawed at her. For two pins, she thought, she would get up and get dressed, and Isobel and Nurse McLeod and Hugh Kyle could all go to the devil. But behind her resentment there was a very real fear. A miserable homecoming it would be for Antony to find his grandmother prone at the foot of the stairs because she hadn't the sense to do what she was told.

She sighed, accepting the inevitable. She ate a biscuit out of the tin by her bed and drank a little tea, which Nurse left each night in a thermos. She would contain herself in patience. But being ill, she decided, was a thorough bore. She was thankful she had never tried it before.

At seven o'clock the house began to stir. She heard Isobel come out of her room and go downstairs; she heard the sounds of dogs and the opening of the big front door, the dungeon-like iron bolts being shot back, and the great key being turned.

Presently Mrs. Watty's voice joined Isobel's and before very long the faint smell of breakfast cooking drifted up from below. Next she heard Jason go to the bathroom, and then his raised voice as he called over the banister, “Aunt Isobel!”

“Yes?”

“Have Rose and Antony come?”

“Not yet. Any moment now.”

Tuppy watched her door. The handle turned, and it slowly opened. “I'm awake,” she said, as Jason's blond head came around the edge of it.

“They haven't got here yet,” he told her.

“By the time you get dressed, they'll probably be here.”

“Did you sleep well?”

“Like a top,” lied Tuppy. “Did you?”

“Yes. At least, I think I did. You don't know where my Rangers T-shirt is, do you?”

“Probably in the airing cupboard.”

“Oh, all right. I'll go and look.”

He disappeared, leaving the door open. The next event was the arrival of Sukey who, having been let in from her morning visit to the garden, had headed straight upstairs. She pattered across the floor and leapt by means of a chair onto Tuppy's bed. With no more ado she settled herself in her usual place at the foot of the eiderdown.

“Sukey!” Tuppy reproached her, but Sukey was without conscience. She stared coldly at Tuppy for a moment, and then settled down to sleep.

Nurse was the next visitor, drawing curtains, shutting windows, turning on the fire, and making all Tuppy's ornaments rattle as she trod heavily about the room.

“We'll need to get you tidied up before your grandson and his young lady arrive,” Nurse said, with a gleam in her eye. She pulled at sheets and pillows, reached into the depths of Tuppy's bed for her hot water bottle, asked her what she wanted for breakfast. “Mrs. Watty's frying bacon … she says Antony always looks forward to fried bacon his first morning home. Would you fancy a little yourself?”

And then, just as Tuppy was telling herself that she couldn't wait another moment, she heard the sound of Antony's car roaring up the road, through the open gates, and up the potholed driveway. The morning's calm was shattered by the double flourish of his horn, the screech of brakes, and the spatter of flying gravel. (In Tuppy's opinion, he always drove too fast.) Downstairs minor pandemonium broke out. Plummer began to bark, footsteps came up the back passage and across the hall, the door opened with a bang, and happy voices filled the house.

Here you are. Oh, how are you? How lovely to see you.

Jason said, “Hello, Antony. Did you have a good journey? Will you make me a bow and arrow?”

Tuppy heard Antony's voice. “How's Tuppy?” (Her heart melted with love for him.)

“She's
awake,
” she heard Jason telling him, his voice squeaky with excitement. “She's waiting for you.”

Tuppy hugged herself in anticipation and sat watching her door and waiting for him to come, which he did almost immediately, taking the stairs two at a time as usual.

“Tuppy!”

“I'm here!”

Long strides took him down the landing and through the door. He burst into her room and stood beaming at her with a grin on his face like a Cheshire Cat.

“Tuppy.” He wore Bedford cords and a thick sweater and a leather car coat, and when he came over to her bedside to give her a kiss she could feel the night's stubble on his chin scraping her cheeks. He was cold and his hair was too long and she could scarcely believe that he was really here.

They hugged enormously. He drew away from her. “But you're looking marvelous. What an old fraud you are.”

“There's nothing wrong with me. You're later than usual. Did you have a horrid drive over?”

“No, a very good one. So good that we stopped for breakfast with Sandy in Tarbole. We're stuffed with sausages and strong tea.”

“Is Rose with you?”

“Yes. Downstairs. Do you want to see her?”

“Of course I want to see her. Fetch her up at once.”

He went out of the room, and she heard him calling down the stairs. “Rose!” There was no response. Then, louder this time, “
Rose!
Come along up. Tuppy's waiting to see you.”

Tuppy watched the door. When he came back into the room, he was leading Rose by the hand.

She thought they both seemed shy, almost ill-at-ease, and she found this endearing, as though being in love had peeled away a little of Antony's bright veneer of sophistication.

She looked at Rose and remembered her, and thought that the five years between seventeen and twenty-two had transformed a pretty but sometimes sulky girl into something very special. She saw the tanned skin, clear with health and sheer cleanliness; the shining fall of brown hair; the eyes—such dark brown eyes. Tuppy had forgotten they were so dark. She wore the regular uniform of the young these days: washed-out jeans and a turtleneck sweater, and over it a navy blue coat with a tartan lining.

Rose said, shyly, “I'm afraid I don't look very tidy.”

“Oh, my dear! How could you look tidy when you've been traveling all night? Anyway, I think you look charming. Now come and give me a kiss.”

Rose came across and stooped to kiss Tuppy. The dark hair fell forward and touched Tuppy's cheek. Rose's own cheek was smooth and cool, reminding Tuppy of crisp, newly picked apples.

“I thought you were never coming to see me!”

Rose sat on the edge of the bed. “I'm sorry.”

“You've been in America?”

“Yes.”

“How's your mother?”

“Very well.”

“And your father?”

“He's well too. We were on a trip.” She caught sight of Sukey. “Oh, look, is this your dog?”

“You remember Sukey, Rose! She used to come on picnics on the beach with us.”

“She … she must be getting quite old.”

“She's ten. That's seventy in dog years. And even that's younger than I am. I've got more teeth than she has, but then Sukey hasn't been stupid and ill like me. Did you say you'd had breakfast?”

“Yes,” said Antony. “We had it in Tarbole.”

“Oh, what a shame, Mrs. Watty's frying bacon specially for you. You'll have to go and toy with it, or at least have a cup of coffee.”

She smiled at Rose, feasting her eyes on the girl. She relished the thought of having her married to Antony and the pleasure of having her here, at Fernrigg.

She said, “Let me see your ring,” and Rose showed it to her, the diamonds and sapphires glittering on the slender brown hand.

“What a pretty one! But then I knew it would be. Antony has very good taste.”

Rose smiled. It was one of those all-embracing, lighting-up smiles that Tuppy loved … the teeth very white with the two front ones a little crooked, making her seem very young and vulnerable.

“How long can you stay?” asked Tuppy, not able to endure the idea that they would have to go away again, ever.

“Only till tomorrow night,” said Antony. “We both have to get back.”

“Two days. It's such a short time.” She gave Rose's hand a little pat. “Never mind, long enough to enjoy ourselves. And we're going to have a little party tonight, just one or two people, as it's such a special occasion.” She caught sight of Antony's expression. “Now, don't start fussing. I have that all the time from Isobel and Nurse. Did you know they engaged a nurse to look after me? Mrs. McLeod, and she comes from Fort William.” She dropped her voice to a whisper. “She looks exactly like a horse.” Rose gave a snort of laughter. “Such a lot of rubbish, but it does make things a little easier for Isobel. And of course I'm not coming to the party. I shall sit up here with a supper tray and listen to you all having a good time.” She turned to Rose. “I asked Anna and Brian—you remember them, don't you? Yes, of course you do. I thought it would be fun for you to see them again.”

Rose said, “I just wish you could be there too.”

“How sweet you are. But if I stay in bed for just a little while longer, then I'll be on my feet for your wedding and that's the most important thing of all.” She smiled again at them, her eyes moving from one face to the other. They watched her, the two pairs of eyes, one so pale and one so dark. Tuppy noticed that the dark eyes were shadowed with tiredness. She said, “Rose, have you slept at all?”

Rose shook her head. “I couldn't.”

“Oh, my dear, you must be exhausted.”

“I am, a little. Suddenly. Just sleepy.”

“Would you like to go to bed? Sleep until lunchtime and then you'll feel better. And perhaps Antony…”

“I'm all right,” Antony said quickly. “I'll maybe have a snooze later on in the day.”

“But Rose must sleep. Mrs. Watty shall make you a hot-water bottle. And afterwards you can have a lovely bath. You'd like that, wouldn't you?”

“Yes, I would,” Rose admitted.

“Then that's what you shall do. And now go down and placate Mrs. Watty by eating some bacon, and tell Nurse I'm ready for my breakfast, and,” she added as they headed for the door, “thank you again, both of you, so much, for coming.”

*   *   *

Waking was strange. The bed was strange, though marvelously soft and comfortable. The cornice of the ceiling was strange, the deep pink of the drawn curtains unfamiliar. Before she had even oriented herself, Flora drew her arm up out of the covers and looked at her watch. Eleven o'clock. She had been asleep for five hours. And here she was, at Fernrigg—Fernrigg House, in Arisaig, in Argyll, in Scotland. She was Flora, but now she was Rose, engaged to be married to Antony Armstrong.

She had met them all: Isobel; little Jason; Mrs. Watty, billowy and wholesome and floury as a newly baked scone; and Watty, her husband, tramping into the kitchen while they sat drinking coffee, with carefully doormatted boots and inquiries about vegetables. Everybody seemed delighted to see her, and it wasn't just because of Antony. Reminiscences had been the order of the day.

“And how's Mrs. Schuster?” Mrs. Watty had asked. “I remember that summer how she used to walk up to the garden every morning for fresh eggs, and Watty used to give her a head of lettuce, because she said she couldn't go a day without a fresh salad.”

And Isobel remembered a certain picnic when it had been so warm that Tuppy had insisted on swimming, borrowing one of Pamela Schuster's elegant bathing suits for the purpose. “She wouldn't let any of us watch her going in. She looked indecent, she said, but actually she looked very nice, because she was always very slim.”

And Antony had teased Isobel. “If Tuppy wouldn't let you watch, how do you know she looked nice? You must have been peeping.”

“Well, I just wanted to make sure she didn't get a cramp.” Only Jason, much to his disgust, had nothing to remember. “I wish I'd been here when you were here,” he told Flora, gazing at her in open and interested admiration. “But I wasn't. I was somewhere else.”