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  ‘Except my mother.’ She watched his chin drop as his mouth opened in amazement, but his discomfiture gave her no pleasure, and she waited for him to bluster his way out of the accusation. She prayed that he could tell her it was all a silly joke, a misunderstanding on her part. She’d be willing to doubt the evidence of her own ears, and perhaps she’d only imagined the overheard words, in any case. His face revealed the furious searching of his brain to find an answer.

  ‘I think a lot of your mother,’ he said, very carefully.

  ‘She’s been very kind to me, and . . .’ He found his inspiration in the excuse she’d given him for kissing Tim.

  ‘I wanted to show my appreciation for all she’s done for me, and keeping her sweet’s the only way I can. She’s taken a fancy to me, you see, and I can’t hurt her by telling her I don’t feel the same about her.’

  It sounded reasonable to the agonised girl, and it was what she wanted to hear. ‘But you called her your Monday girl, the first woman in your life.’ How could he explain that?

  He smiled then. ‘So that’s what all this is about, is it? You’ve been listening at the keyhole, have you?’

  ‘I couldn’t help it, Fergus.’ Renee was on the defensive now. ‘You keep calling her Anne, and she’s different when you’re there. I was jealous, and wanted to find out what you said to her when you were together.’

  ‘You’ve no need to be jealous, my darling.’ His arms slid round her again. ‘There’s nothing between your mother and me. You’re a silly little goose, aren’t you?’ His lips brushed her nose, her eyes, then came down heavily on her mouth. She capitulated and returned his kisses hungrily, believing him because she wanted to believe him although he’d glossed over what he’d said to her mother. She couldn’t break off with him . . . not because of her mother . . . not because of . . .

  The repugnant memory of what she had witnessed on Thursday night came flooding back, and she drew away from him abruptly.

  ‘Come on, Renee,’ he coaxed, all his charm and guile turned on again in the knowledge of the power he held over her. ‘I’ve told you. You’re my Monday girl, my special girl – God’s honour. What is it now?’

  She licked her dry lips. ‘What about your Thursday girl?’

  she whispered. ‘She must be special, too.’

  ‘My Thursday girl?’ He looked bewildered and apprehensive.

  ‘The one you took to the Bay of Nigg last Thursday, and I don’t know how many Thursdays before.’

  ‘How did you find out about that?’ His voice was sharp, alarmed.

  ‘I saw you,’ she said wearily. ‘So there’s no use denying it. When I was out for a walk with Jack and Tim. We all saw you, making love to her as if your life depended on it. You never even knew we were there.’

  He was scowling as he moved along the bench, away from her, and he kept his head turned to the front when he spoke.

  ‘Spying again, were you? You, going down there with your two boyfriends? You’ve no room to speak.’

  ‘They’ve never made love to me. I’ve never even kissed Jack, and only last Monday night with Tim. Just the few kisses you saw.’ She was on the defensive again, and despised herself for her weakness.

  His top lip curled up for a second. ‘So you say.’ The accusing note in his voice changed to hurt sadness. ‘Now you know how I felt that night.’

  ‘It’s not the same thing at all,’ she burst out. ‘We were just kissing, but you were . . . you and that girl were . . .’ The words stuck in her throat.

  Fergus took her hand in both of his. ‘Listen, Renee,’ he said, persuasively. ‘I never made any secret of the other girls, and I’m only human, after all. I can’t refuse when some fast piece hands it to me on a plate. Do you understand what I mean, because it wasn’t my fault?’ She shook her head, too angry and sick to answer.

  He patted her hand, then held it firmly again. ‘No, I suppose you’re too young to know what I’m getting at, but a man’s attitude to sex – sexual intercourse,’ he added, to be sure he was making himself clear, ‘is different from a woman’s. It’s just a release for us, a bit of fun, a quick thrill.’ Renee’s dismayed face made him hasten to qualify what he’d said. ‘But when a man loves a girl, like I love you, it’s different. It means something. I was proving my love to you, so it meant everything – especially when I knew I was first.’ She wished fervently that he had not added the last few words. It reminded her of what Jack and Sheila Daun had said about him, but she could at least understand now why he’d been lying beside the lighthouse wall that night, doing what he’d been doing. She didn’t feel any happier about it, but had to admit that his explanation was feasible. Fergus was regarding her anxiously. ‘The other girls don’t mean anything to me, Renee, honest, and I’d only been out with that one the once. I wouldn’t need anybody else if I could be with you every night.’

  ‘Why can’t we be together every night?’ She leaned against him, and looked up with pleading eyes. ‘I’ll be sixteen in less than three weeks, and my mother didn’t object to me going out with Tim.’

  He bent his head to kiss her again. ‘She wouldn’t let you go out with me, darling. I told you, she thinks she’s in love with me, and jealousy’s a terrible thing. I’ve had to swear to her that you didn’t mean anything to me and that I don’t love you.’

  ‘Oh, Fergus!’ The shock made her lift her head from his shoulder. This was disloyalty, betrayal of the first magnitude. ‘You didn’t . . . did you?’

  His lips touched her eyelids. ‘I had to, Renee. I have to keep her from suspecting about us till I can find a way to let her down gently, and show her it’s you I really want. You’ll just have to be patient, my darling.’

  The reassuring endearments were balm to her buffeted heart, and she placed her arms round his neck, the manly smell of him filling her nostrils as she whispered, ‘Oh, Fergus, I love you so much I can hardly wait.’

  He glanced quickly about them, then began to caress her, until she murmured, urgently, ‘Go on, go on . . . please!’ All the mixed emotions – the doubts, the hatred, the jealousy, the love – which had been pent up inside her, burst to the surface in a show of passion which delighted and excited him, and he took her roughly without further preliminaries. When it was over, his fierce needs satisfied, his kiss was tender. ‘Have I proved now it’s only you I love?’

  ‘Yes, oh, yes,’ she breathed, banishing the hateful memories that had haunted her over the past few days.

  ‘I bet Tim and Jack could never make love like that,’ he said suddenly, childishly.

  She laughed contentedly, his little show of bravado being the final proof to her of his love. Arms round each other, they walked back to the centre of the city, and Fergus boarded the bus to Cattofield with her. ‘I’ll come all the way home with you tonight, my darling, and your mother can think what she likes.’

  With a rush of tenderness towards him, Renee thought that this was a new beginning, and snuggled up to him, unconscious of the interested, amused glances of the other passengers.

  When they went in, Anne looked suspicious, and her face didn’t change when Fergus proferred his glib excuse.

  ‘Renee came on to the same bus as I was on.’

  Having no idea of how much her shining eyes gave her away, the girl was slightly put out when her mother ignored her and began to bombard Fergus with questions as to where he’d been and what he’d been doing.

  ‘I was with an old mate of mine I haven’t seen for ages. He’s married now, and he took me home with him to meet his wife, and to have a few drinks.’ His answer came so easily, and sounded so genuine, that Renee had a strange pang of sad irritation at how smoothly he could lie. Had he been lying to her all evening? The doubts came flooding back and she came to a firm decision. Once her birthday was past, she’d wait a week or two to give him a chance to end her mother’s attachment to him, and if he hadn�
�t done anything by then, she’d force his hand and tell her the whole truth herself.

  She wouldn’t mention the wonderful love-making, though. That was a secret to be shared only with Fergus. She’d just say, quite calmly, that they loved each other, and she’d say it in front of him, so he couldn’t deny it.

  Renee hadn’t noticed Jack sitting by the window, and when she did, he was staring at her speculatively, and she could tell from his face that he knew exactly what she’d been doing with Fergus that evening. Well, she didn’t care.

  In a few weeks, they would all know, and if her mother made a scene and forbade them to meet outside the house, she’d run away with him. At sixteen, she’d be old enough in Scots law to marry him without parental consent, and they could live happily without any interference.

  Jack went to bed first, followed closely by Fergus, making Renee suspect that he didn’t relish being faced with more questions from his landlady, who now focused her attention on her daughter.

  ‘And what were you doing that you came in all starry-eyed, and looking like a cat that’s been at the cream? You weren’t out with Phyllis, that’s one thing sure.’

  The desperation to avoid being found out too early gave Renee the deviousness to say quickly, ‘No, I wasn’t with Phyllis. She sent her brother to tell me she wasn’t feeling very well, so he came into the pictures with me instead. He’s very nice. You remember him, Mum? He’s a year older than me.’

  ‘Oh.’ Anne gave a nervous laugh; she hadn’t known that Phyllis Barclay had a brother. ‘Another string to your bow? You’re getting to be a real flirt, aren’t you?’

  Renee thought ruefully that she was getting to be a real liar, anyway, a perfect pupil of the true master of deception – Fergus Cooper.

  Chapter Eight

  On the next two Monday nights, Renee’s suspicions about Fergus were allayed. He was waiting for her when she arrived at Woolworth’s at half past seven and tucked her arm through his while they were walking, which made her very proud and happy. His whole attitude was tender and caring, and she reflected that this was how it should be all the time and would be, very soon, once their love was made public.

  Both weeks, they walked all the way to Hazlehead, and found a clearing in the trees near the golf course. They were lying on the mossy ground, their love-making over, on the second Monday, when Renee remarked, idly, ‘My birthday’s on Thursday.’

  ‘I know. Mine was a week past Friday.’ Fergus turned over, to lie on his stomach. ‘I’m an old man of twenty-two now.’

  ‘But I’ll be sixteen, and you know what that means, don’t you?’ She looked at him hopefully.

  ‘Mmmm. It means that for nearly two weeks I’ve been seven years older than you, but from Thursday I’ll only be six years older.’ Poking in the moss with his finger, he hadn’t lifted his head while he was speaking.

  Renee ruffled his dark curls. ‘Be serious, Fergus. I meant that from Thursday I’ll be old enough to go with whoever I want, so you can take me out openly.’

  ‘I am taking you out openly. Anybody could see us.’

  ‘I meant openly in front of my mother.’

  ‘I told you before, Renee, I need time to . . . explain to her, and brush her off gently.’

  ‘You’ve had plenty of time already. It’s two whole weeks since you said you’d do it, and you could have told her by this time, if you’d wanted to.’

  ‘You know I want to tell her, but . . .’ He squeezed her hand. ‘It’s very difficult. I can’t just tell her straight out to stop pestering me because I don’t love her.’

  ‘Why not?’

  He regarded her mournfully, his dark eyes widening.

  ‘That’d be cruel, Renee. I’ll have to let her down easily, lead up to it gradually, be diplomatic, or else she might throw me out. She is my landlady, remember?’

  ‘I’m telling you, Fergus, I’m not going to wait long. If you don’t tell her, I will.’ She withdrew her hand and made a move as if to get up, but he gripped her arm.

  ‘I’ll try, Renee, honest, I will. Don’t say anything yet, for God’s sake. You’ll just make things worse.’

  Worse for who? she thought ruefully, but let him kiss and stroke her body again until she forgot everything except her aching need for him.

  On Thursday morning, she received several birthday cards in the mail, also one large brown envelope, which she opened first.

  ‘Mum!’ She ran into the scullery. ‘It’s my certificates from the RSA. I’ve passed the Elementary in the whole lot –

  shorthand, typing and book-keeping.’

  ‘That’s good.’ Anne was washing the breakfast dishes, but looked up with a smile.

  The cards were from Granny and Granda, Sheila Daun, Jack, Tim and Mike, and her mother, but she was disappointed that there wasn’t one from Fergus. ‘Thanks for the card, Mum,’ she said, propping them up on the mantelpiece.

  Anne came into the living room, drying her hands.

  ‘That’s OK.’ She lifted a parcel from the sideboard and handed it to her daughter. ‘Many happy returns, Renee. I’m sorry it’s not much.’

  Renee took off the paper and gave a cry of delight when she saw the powder compact and lipstick. ‘Oh, that’s lovely. Thanks again, Mum.’

  ‘I’m glad you like them. You’d better get a move on or you’ll be late for work.’

  At teatime, there was a card from Fergus on her plate, so she happily thanked all the boarders for remembering her birthday, and Tim led them in singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to her.

  Anne produced a small cake, which she had baked and iced, and cut in six so that everyone could have a piece.

  When he finished eating his, Fergus stood up. ‘That cake was absolutely delicious, Anne.’

  ‘Yes, Mrs Gordon. It was really great.’ Mike excused himself and followed Fergus out of the dining room.

  Tim looked across at Renee. ‘How does it feel to be sweet sixteen?’

  Her high spirits had flagged somewhat at hearing Fergus still calling her mother ‘Anne’, but she smiled and said, ‘No different, Tim, unfortunately. I wish I was twenty-one.’

  Jack, sitting next to her, laid his hand over hers for a second. ‘Don’t wish your life away, Renee. Sixteen’s a great age to be. I wish I was sixteen again as well.’

  Anne stretched over to lift the empty cake plate. ‘I wish I was sixteen again, too,’ she said, ruefully.

  Mike went out later to meet Babs Sandison, and Fergus went out about five minutes afterwards, but he didn’t divulge which of his girlfriends he was going to meet. Renee reflected dismally that it was probably his Thursday girl, the one who offered it to him on a plate, and felt a horrible churning inside her stomach.

  Then Jack and Tim came through together. ‘We’re going out for a walk. Would you like to come, Renee?’ Tim asked.

  Oh, no, she thought. Not a repetition of what happened that other Thursday? ‘Sorry,’ she said quickly. ‘I want to wash my hair, and, anyway, Granny and Granda might come across, seeing it’s my birthday.’

  ‘Oh, aye, they likely will.’

  Jack turned to Anne. ‘Would you like to come, Mrs Gordon?’

  ‘No, I’d better be here in case my mother and father do come.’

  ‘Oh well, cheerio then.’ Jack preceded Tim to the door.

  ‘We’ll maybe go in somewhere for a drink, seeing we’ve no ladies with us,’ Tim said, over his shoulder. ‘But we won’t be late.’

  Anne picked up her mending basket and sat down, and Renee went into the bathroom. She hadn’t really intended to wash her hair that night, but having said it, she felt obliged to do it. She was sitting on the floor in front of the fire, reading to pass the time until her hair dried, when someone rang the doorbell. Maggie and Peter McIntosh had not forgotten to bring their granddaughter a birthday gift. The old lady extricated a bulky parc
el from her shopping bag when she was seated on the settee, and handed it to Renee. ‘We came the night instead o’ the morrow, to gi’e ye oor present.’

  ‘Oh, a handbag! Just what I was needing,’ the girl exclaimed as soon as she removed the paper. ‘It’s really beautiful, Granny, and it matches my new coat.’

  ‘I hoped it would.’ Maggie beamed. ‘I mind ye showin’

  me yer coat a week or so back, and it fair suits ye.’

  Renee laughed. ‘It wasn’t bad for twenty-five bob, was it? Thank you very much, Granny, and you, too, Granda,’ she added to Peter, sitting, as usual, in the background.

  His eyes were twinkling. ‘Ye’d better tak’ a look inside to see if it’s big enough for a’ the rubbish ye cart aboot.’

  The girl obediently undid the two metal clasps. ‘Oh, you two pets. There’s a bottle of Californian Poppy inside. That’s just great, because the Evening in Paris you gave me at Christmas is just about finished. Thanks again.’ She rose and kissed them both on the cheek, and they appeared very proud that she was so pleased with their gifts.

  ‘Ye’re gettin’ to be quite the young lady,’ Peter remarked.

  ‘The next thing is ye’ll be gettin’ a lad.’

  ‘She’s been out with Tim Donaldson already,’ Anne told him. ‘And with Tim and Jack another night, and she went to the pictures with her chum’s brother once, as well.’

  Maggie nodded approvingly. ‘Ye’re best wi’ a few, so ye can pick an’ choose. Ye’re young yet, an’ it’ll be a puckle years yet afore ye meet the right lad.’

  Renee hugged to herself the thought that she didn’t need to wait a ‘puckle years’ to meet him, and that it wouldn’t be long before she could shout it from the rooftops. When her grandparents went home, she went a little way with them, and, when Peter walked on in front, she couldn’t resist saying, ‘I’ve got the right lad already, Granny, but don’t let on to Mum yet.’

  Maggie smiled encouragingly. ‘Jack an’ Tim are baith nice laddies. Which ane is it? Or is it yer chum’s brother?’