The Back of Beyond Page 9

  His whole attitude changed now. ‘I suppose so,’ he grinned. ‘I can see me in a year or so, dandling a little boy on my knee …’

  ‘There’s no room on your knee for anything except your fat stomach,’ chuckled his wife. ‘You’d better stop tasting everything a dozen times, so you’ll lose some of that blubber and have room for your grandchild.’

  Deeming this not worth a reply, Tiny contented himself by flinging a dish towel at her.

  Chapter 6

  In May 1933, when Alistair received the telegram saying that his mother had died, it was so unexpected it almost tore him apart. She had never given the slightest hint in her letters that she was ill, and he hadn’t suspected a thing when she was in London for his wedding. It placed him in a proper quandary. His father and Alice would expect him to go home for the funeral, but how could he leave Gwen when she was so near her time?

  ‘Mum says first babies are usually late,’ she assured him, ‘and you’ll only be away for a few days. In any case, if it does come early, I’ve all my family to look after me.’

  Everyone told him he should go, but it was Dougal who clinched it, observing with his usual candour, ‘What could you do even supposing you are here when the labour starts? You’d likely panic, and put Gwen in a panic, and all. No, Ally, that kind of thing’s best left to the women, they know what to do … well, Rosie does. She’s had three.’

  On arriving in Benview, Alistair was dismayed at the change in his father. His face was drawn, his back bowed, his eyes red-rimmed and dull. ‘Is Dad all right?’ he asked Alice, realizing as he spoke that she, too, was looking haggard.

  ‘He’s taking it bad,’ she murmured, ‘though we knew it was coming, for the doctor said the bout of flu we thought she was getting over had left her so weak she couldn’t fight the infection she picked up. Even if you know something’s inevitable, you can’t believe it’s really going to happen, and when it does, it comes as an awful shock … like God’s betrayed you. I know it sounds silly, but I’m sure Dad feels the same. And he’s going to feel a lot worse after the funeral and he’s left on his own.’

  ‘Oh, my God, aye!’ In the sorrow which had threatened to fell him, Alistair had given no thought to what would happen afterwards. ‘Will he manage by himself?’

  ‘He says he will.’ There was a brief silence before she added, ‘I said I’d forget about going to ’varsity, even if I’ve passed the prelims, but he wouldn’t hear of it.’

  ‘You can’t do that, Alice. Mam and him wanted you to get some kind of degree, so you could have a professional career. They couldn’t afford to put me through university, and in any case, it was you that was the clever one.’

  ‘I’m not bothered about having a career. I’d rather stay at home and look after Dad. It’s what I want to do, Alistair,’ she said quickly as he opened his mouth to argue. ‘I’ve no ambitions. I don’t want to be a doctor or a solicitor or a teacher. I just want to get married and have a family … maybe two boys and two girls, and keeping house for Dad would be good practice for me.’

  ‘But you’re not eighteen yet, Alice …’ The force of her glare stopped him telling her what a mistake she was making. It was her life to do with as she wanted. After all, hadn’t he given up a steady job himself to go to London?

  The ordeal of the funeral was only fractionally more harrowing than facing Lexie Fraser again. He had known she’d be there, of course – she’d always been friendly with his mother – and he had primed himself to treat her as if they’d never been anything more than school friends, but it wasn’t so easy. Most of the people there believed that they had once been sweethearts if not lovers, and when he went over and shook hands with her, he could sense the knowing glances that were being exchanged behind his back. Worse still, he was so emotional anyway that his heart beat a little faster when she clung to his hand and regarded him with eyes moist with tears. Thankfully, she’d had to move away to let someone else voice their condolences and ask how he was getting on in London, and he was kept thus occupied until the minister arrived to say a prayer over the open coffin.

  When the men returned from the interment in the kirkyard, Alice took her brother aside. ‘Lexie’s in an awful state,’ she whispered. ‘You’d better walk her home.’

  He looked across to where Lexie was sitting forlornly in a corner, dabbing at her eyes with what looked like a sodden handkerchief, and was almost swamped by a surge of pity for her. It did flit across his mind that she could get a lift from the doctor, the one who had taken over after Doctor Birnie left, but it was really up to him to make sure she got home all right. He owed her that.

  He was disconcerted by the way her face lit up when he made his offer, but once it was said, he couldn’t take it back, and his father nodded gratefully as they went out.

  ‘How’s he keeping?’ she asked as they set off on the three-mile walk.

  ‘Not too good. They’d been married for nearly twenty-five years, you know, and he’s going to miss her.’

  ‘Aye, he’s bound to. It’s a long time.’

  Their conversation, as they strolled along, revolved mainly around people they had both known, and he was thankful that she confined herself to answering his questions, and not asking him anything personal. It had to come, of course.

  They were approaching the track to the tower when she looked askance at him. ‘Do you remember when we used to go up there at nights?’

  He didn’t want to be reminded, but he couldn’t tell her so. ‘We’d some nice walks.’

  ‘Nice walks? Oh, Al, you surely haven’t forgotten how you used to kiss me?’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten,’ he muttered. He hadn’t thought about it while he’d been in London, but being with her again brought it back, the youthful, innocent kisses, given solely to find out what kissing a girl felt like, though if Lexie hadn’t been so pushy, so forward, there was no saying what it might have led to. But she had spoiled it … and put him off girls for years.

  ‘I never had another lad,’ she said, coyly, ‘not even when you took a wife.’

  His wife was something he felt safe to talk about. ‘I’d have liked you to meet Gwen. She was sorry she couldn’t come up with me, but it was too far for her to travel. It’s just a couple of weeks till our baby’s due.’

  ‘Your Mam said she was expecting.’

  She stopped walking, abruptly, as if she had come to a sudden decision. ‘Will you take me up to the tower again? Please, Al, just this one last time … for old times’ sake?’

  A coldness swept over him. ‘I’d rather not, Lexie. I’m married now, and …’

  ‘Being married shouldn’t stop you from being friends with me. Come on, Al. I thought … you know I lost my mother, and all?’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ he replied stiffly, angry at her for taking advantage of the situation and annoyed at himself for forgetting that it was only a few months since Carrie’s death.

  ‘I need some … affection, Al … please? I don’t want you to kiss me, or anything like that, just walk with me so I’ll have that to remember. Or are you too high and mighty now you live in London and speak like you’d a plum in your mouth?’

  There were tears in her eyes again, real tears, and he guessed that she was masking her vulnerabilty by being sarcastic. Poor Lexie. She was right. She had nobody now, and why shouldn’t he take her up to the tower … for old times’ sake? ‘Come on then,’ he said, albeit a trifle brusquely.

  She walked decorously by his side, wanting to know more about his wife, about his in-laws, and he answered as best he could until she asked what they were going to call the baby. He and Gwen had not discussed the matter of names. ‘If it’s a boy, I’d like to call him Douglas,’ he said, after a moment’s consideration. ‘That would be after Dougal, you see, for he’s been a true friend to me all our lives. If it’s a girl …’ He paused, then shrugged. ‘I haven’t thought about that.’

  ‘What about Alexandra?’ she suggested, smiling.

  ‘I don�
��t think that’d be a good idea.’

  ‘Why not? I’ve been a true friend to you, and all, more than a friend, and it would make me truly happy, Al.’

  ‘No, Lexie, I can’t. It wouldn’t be fair to Gwen.’

  ‘Haven’t you told her about me?’

  ‘There was nothing to tell, was there? It was all in your mind.’

  ‘Oh, Al, how could you say a thing like that?’ Bursting into a flood of tears, she whipped round and ran back down the hill.

  He didn’t chase her, but tried not to let too great a distance develop between them. He had to keep his eye on her in case she did anything silly, because she was obviously on the verge of some kind of breakdown.

  It wasn’t long until she slowed down to a walk and he caught up with her. ‘I’m sorry, Lexie,’ he said. ‘I have always looked on you as a friend … just a friend, though, but Gwen might think there was more to it if I wanted to call our baby after you. Can you not understand that? How would you like it if you were married and your husband wanted to call your daughter after his old girlfriend?’

  ‘So you still think of me as a girlfriend?’

  Her voice was so low that he had to bend his head to hear. ‘Well, we did go together for a good few months.’ He knew he shouldn’t have said it. He should have made it clear that he meant a girl friend, not a girlfriend. There was a world of difference, but now wasn’t the time to be brutal.

  They walked on in silence for some time, then Lexie murmured, ‘I’m awful tired, Alistair. Would you mind if I took your arm?’

  He did mind, but all he could do was shake his head, so she tucked her hand under his arm, hanging on as if she were totally exhausted, as quite possibly she was, he mused, compassion for her welling up in him again. His mother’s funeral was bound to have distressed her by reminding her of her own mother’s death, and she had nothing to look forward to when she went home except empty rooms. He had no idea how it happened, but when they reached the two-storeyed house at the rear of what had been her father’s shop but which she had run for a few years now, his arm was round her waist, and she was saying, as she fitted her key into the lock, ‘You’ll come in for a cup of tea?’

  The fire was set but not lit, and although the May evening was quite warm outside, there was a chill inside – no feeling of welcome. It was the first time he had ever been inside her home, but this room wasn’t all that different from his mother’s kitchen. There was an almost identical oak dresser with ornaments in its small pigeonholes, a few china plaques on the walls expressing various Victorian sentiments, several pot plants here and there, a fender round the fire with a padded stool at each end and a high-backed armchair at both sides of the hearth. There was one difference, though. Where the Ritchies had a neat tartan rug thrown over their worn couch, Carrie Fraser had used an old curtain, faded so much by the sun that it looked as if it were striped – a washed-out crimson and a pinkish white.

  Flopping down on this, Lexie gave a sigh and stretched out her legs. ‘Oh, Al, I’m sorry I forgot. It wasn’t worth lighting the fire when I was going to be out all day, but once I put a match to it, the kettle’ll not take long to boil.’

  He pushed away the insidious thought that she had remembered that the fire wasn’t lit and this was an excuse to keep him with her a little longer. She was so upset, it wasn’t fair to doubt her. ‘I’ll light it.’ He took a box of matches from his jacket pocket, struck one and held it to the paper in the grate. After blowing on it for a few seconds to make sure it was properly kindled, he turned to her again. ‘Would you mind if I smoked?’

  ‘I always loved the smell of your cigarettes,’ she smiled, ‘so sit down beside me and smoke as many as you want.’

  Unwilling to upset her by sitting anywhere else, he edged down on the couch, lit one of his Gold Flakes and leaned back. He’d had a gruelling day himself and was glad of the rest. ‘Never mind about making tea,’ he told her in a minute. ‘I’d better not stay, or Dad and Alice’ll think I’m lost. I’ll just finish this and get going.’ He looked around for an ashtray but couldn’t see one.

  Lexie understood his predicament. ‘Just put your ash in the begonia,’ she told him. ‘There’s no rush for you to get home, is there? I’d be glad of a bit of company for a while, for I feel a bit lost.’ She turned to him, appealing, ‘Please, Al?’

  Even in the dimness of the kitchen, he could see the anguish in her pale blue eyes. She wasn’t shamming. She was lonely. She did need comfort. And he hadn’t had any real comfort himself since he came back to Forvit. His father and sister were both too wrapped up in their own grief to worry about his. ‘Come here,’ he said, gruffly, putting his arms round her and pulling her close.

  She wasn’t pushy this time. She lay against him passively, the tears trickling down her cheeks until he could stand her misery no longer. ‘Oh, Lexie,’ he murmured, ‘I know how you’re feeling. It’s a terrible thing to lose your mother, but we all have to go some time.’ Realizing that this was unlikely to give any solace, he made up for his insensitivity by bending his head to kiss her.

  On his way home on the train next day, he was beset with shame at what had happened. It had been his fault, not Lexie’s, because even now he could remember how his body had responded to the arching of her back. With Gwen being so far on in her pregnancy, he hadn’t touched her for weeks and Lexie’s lips were so sweet, the old remembered smell of her so heady, that he’d been utterly lost.

  He had unbuttoned her blouse, kissed away her faint murmur of protest and fondled her hungrily. Oh, the bitter shame of letting lust overrule sense. She hadn’t encouraged him. On the other hand, she hadn’t discouraged him, either, and it hadn’t been until he was a hair’s-breadth away from the unthinkable that it seemed to dawn on her what he was doing and she started pounding at his chest. That was when his sanity had returned.

  He had almost thrown her from him and, in spite of her flood of tears and bitter pleadings not to leave her like this, he had left her, and had run like a wild thing until a stitch in his side forced him to stop. He had leant against a tree to get his breath back and slowly slid down until he was sitting on the mossy grass at the roadside, where he had remained for well over an hour. It had taken him that long to get himself in a fit enough state to go home. His father wouldn’t have noticed anything amiss if he was flushed to the gills and looked guilty as hell, but Alice would have spotted right away that something was up and demanded to know what had happened.

  They were both in bed by the time he reached Benview, and, in the morning, he was able to answer his sister’s query as to why he’d been so late in coming home the night before with a half-truth. ‘Lexie asked me in for a cup of tea.’ He had half expected her to torment him about taking so long to drink it, but she’d let it go, thank goodness.

  Feeling his eyes weary – his guilt hadn’t let him sleep much – he closed them for a moment, and the next thing he knew the train had arrived at King’s Cross. He’d still been awake at Newcastle, but he must have dropped off and slept through the commotion of all the other stations they’d stopped at. The rest had done him good, though; he felt better now.

  On the way to Guilford Street, he came to the conclusion that he had overreacted to what he had done to Lexie. He had maybe gone a wee bit further than he should have, but he’d thought it was what she wanted. It was her own fault, and she shouldn’t have got in such a state, battering at him like he was trying to kill her, though it was just as well she had. If she hadn’t stopped him … by God it didn’t bear thinking about, and thank goodness there was no chance that Gwen would ever hear about it. Lexie would never belittle herself by telling anyone, for it had been a proper fiasco.

  As he had done ever since he moved into the hotel, he entered by the area steps and, as soon as he went into the kitchen, Tiny said, with a touch of sarcasm, ‘So Daddy’s home at last?’

  It was a second or two before Alistair understood. ‘You mean Gwen’s had the baby already? Is she all right? Is it a
ll right? Is it a boy or a girl?’

  Before his father-in-law could answer, Peggy walked in, excitement making her more forthcoming than normal. ‘Go up and see your daughter right this minute, Alistair. She’s absolutely gorgeous.’

  He took the stairs two at a time, passing Rosie without a word, his heart swelling with love for his wife when he burst into their room and saw her lying in bed looking as sweet as she always did, just a fraction paler, more fragile.

  She held a finger to her lips. ‘Don’t make a noise, Alistair. She’s asleep.’

  He tiptoed across the room to kiss her. ‘When was it? Was it bad? I wish I’d been here for you.’

  ‘She was born yesterday and it wasn’t too bad. Everything went as it should. Don’t you want to look at her?’

  Peggy hadn’t exaggerated, he discovered. He had never seen such a beautiful infant before. No hair as such, of course, just a fuzz of fair down which suggested that she’d be blonde like Gwen and him, a teeny red, wrinkled face, minute hands perfectly formed and opening and closing as if searching for something to hold. She captivated him for ever by grabbing the finger he obliged with and opening her eyes. ‘She looked at me,’ he crowed, ‘and her eyes are as blue as cornflowers.’

  ‘All babies’ eyes are blue for the first few weeks,’ observed Rosie who came in at that moment with a tea tray in her hand.

  ‘She’s like a little doll,’ he breathed.

  ‘You won’t think that for long,’ laughed Gwen. ‘Wait till you hear her bawling.’

  Rosie grinned. ‘She can definitely make herself heard, but you must be hungry, Alistair, and I kept some dinner for you.’

  He tore himself away from his daughter to go down to the kitchen where they always had their meals, the dining room being kept for the guests, but he couldn’t eat very much, he was so pleased with the tiny being he had created … with a little help, of course. In less than half an hour, therefore, he was racing back to see her, and his heart contracted when he saw his wife with the infant in her arms. They made a perfect picture of Madonna and Child.