Emily Page 9

  ‘What happened to your marriage?’ I asked.

  ‘My wife liked having a Harley Street husband, and giving little dinner parties in the suburbs with candlelight and sparkling wine.’

  ‘Oh dear,’ I said, giggling. ‘Not quite your forte?’

  ‘On the contrary, I look very good by candlelight. It was my fault as much as hers. She was beautiful, capable and absolutely bored me to death. I married her without really knowing her. Most people don’t love human beings anyway. They just love an idealized picture in their heads.’

  I looked at his face, softened now. I’ve never liked red hair, but Finn’s was very dark and thick and grew beautifully close to his head. I’ve never liked freckles either, or broken noses, but he had extraordinary eyes, yellow-flecked, with thick black lashes, and his mouth, now it wasn’t set in its usual hard line, was beautiful. The wind was blowing his trousers against his hard, muscular legs. He was in great shape, too. In spite of his size, he moved about the boat like a cat.

  ‘Are you coming to Coco’s party tonight?’ I asked.

  ‘I might,’ he said. ‘Depends what’s up at the hospital.’

  ‘Please come,’ I said, then blushed. ‘I mean, if you’re not too busy.’

  Chapter Eighteen

  Rory was in the bath when I got back, wearing my bath cap but still managing to look absurdly handsome.

  ‘Come in,’ he said. ‘I’m indecent. Where have you been?’

  ‘Out and about,’ I said. ‘Can I have that bath after you?’

  I went into the bedroom. I didn’t want to tell him about Finn.

  He followed me, dripping from the bath.

  ‘Where’s my white silk shirt?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, er, I’m glad you asked that question.’

  ‘Is this it?’ he said, pulling a crumpled pink rag of a shirt out of the pillowcase of washing on the bed.

  ‘Well, it could be,’ I said.

  ‘God,’ said Rory. He went on pulling crumpled pink shirts out like a conjurer whipping out coloured handkerchiefs. ‘How do you manage it?’ he asked.

  ‘I left one of my red silk scarves in the machine by mistake,’ I said, miserably.

  ‘Next time you want to do some dyeing, just count me out,’ he said, and starting to get dressed, he put both feet into one leg of his underpants and fell over, which didn’t improve his temper.

  ‘How was Edinburgh?’ I said, knowing that Marina had her singing lesson there once a fortnight.

  He paused a second too long. ‘I’ve been to Glasgow,’ he said, evenly.

  Rubbed raw with rancour, we arrived at the party. It was a dazzling affair, all the locals done up to the eyeballs in wool tweed. I was wearing about a quarter as much clothing as everyone else.

  ‘Pretty as a picture,’ said Buster, coming and squeezing me.

  ‘Happy Birthday,’ said Rory. ‘I thought of buying you a book, Buster, but I knew you’d already got one.’

  I heard someone laugh behind us. It was Marina, looking ravishing in a high-necked, amber wool dress with long sleeves. I’d forgotten about her being so beautiful. Since Christmas, she had become, in my tortured imagination, a sort of man-eating gorgon, with snakes writhing in her hair and corpses strewn about her feet. She smiled into Rory’s eyes and went over to say hello to Coco.

  Even the high-necked dress couldn’t conceal two dark bruises under her chin.

  ‘She’s got love bites all over her neck,’ I hissed at Rory out of the corner of my mouth.

  ‘I suppose you recognize the teeth marks,’ he hissed back.

  ‘Well, they couldn’t be Hamish’s,’ I said. ‘He hasn’t got any teeth left.’

  ‘E-m-ilee,’ said Rory quietly, ‘you’ve got very bitchy since I married you.’

  ‘You were bitchy before I married you!’ I snapped.

  ‘It must be catching.’

  The party was a roaring success.

  Everyone drank a great deal too much. I was sitting on the sofa with Rory several hours later, when Marina came up and sat down beside us.

  ‘Hello darlings. I’ve decided to give up Hamish for Lent. Do you think Elizabeth’s dress quite comes off?’ she added, pointing at a fat blonde.

  ‘It will do later in the evening, if I know Elizabeth,’ said Rory.

  Buster came up and filled up our drinks.

  ‘Hello, Emily,’ he said. ‘You look a bit bleak. Not having words with Rory, I hope.’

  ‘Rory and I don’t have words any more, we just have silences,’ I said, getting somewhat unsteadily to my feet.

  ‘Come back,’ said Rory. ‘Buster wants to look down your dress.’

  But I fled out of the room, falling over Buster’s labrador who took it in extremely bad part. Why didn’t Finn come? Every time the doorbell rang I hoped it was him. People were dancing in the dining-room now. I talked for hours to some dreary laird with a haw-haw voice and a come-heather look in his eye.

  Hamish came up to us. He looked greyer and more haggard than ever, but his eyes had lost none of their goatish gleam.

  ‘Emily,’ he said, ‘I haven’t talked to you all evening. Come and dance.’

  How could I refuse? On the dance floor, Rory and Marina were swaying very respectably, two feet apart. It was just the way they were looking at each other, like souls in torment.

  ‘Just like lovebirds, aren’t they?’ said Hamish bitterly.

  I looked at him startled.

  ‘On second thoughts,’ he said, ‘it’s time you and I had a little chat.’

  He led me into a study off the hall, and shut the door. My heart was thumping unpleasantly.

  ‘What do you want?’ I said.

  ‘Just to talk. Doesn’t that little ménage upset you?’

  ‘What ménage?’ I said quickly.

  ‘My lovely wife and your handsome husband. We’ve each been dealt a marked card, darling. Neither of them gives a damn about us.’

  ‘I don’t want to listen,’ I said, going towards the door.

  ‘But you must,’ he said, catching my arm, his face suddenly alight with malevolence. ‘It’s quite a story. When Marina married me six months ago, I was foolish enough to think she cared for me. But, within weeks, I realized she only wanted me for my money.’

  ‘If she was after money,’ I said, ‘why didn’t she marry Rory? He’s just as rich as you are.’

  ‘Just as rich,’ said Hamish. ‘But Rory, if you remember, only inherited his money after he married you. That was one of the conditions of Rory’s father, Hector’s, will. Rory wouldn’t get a bean until he was safely married.’

  ‘Then why didn’t he marry Marina?’

  ‘That was another condition of the will. Hector made another condition that if he married Marina, he wouldn’t get a penny. It would all go to charity. So he married you to get his hands on the cash.’

  I felt myself go icy cold.

  ‘But I don’t understand,’ I whispered. ‘That doesn’t sound like Rory at all. If he’d really wanted to marry Marina, he wouldn’t have cared a damn about not inheriting the money. He could easily have got a job, or earned money from his painting, if he’d wanted to.’

  ‘Oh, my poor child,’ said Hamish mockingly. ‘What a lot you’ve got to learn. Can’t you understand that it’s not possible for Rory ever to marry Marina, money or no money?’

  ‘Why not?’ I said.

  ‘Because they’re brother and sister.’

  ‘What!’ I gasped in horror. ‘They can’t be.’

  ‘I’m afraid so. Hector, laird of the island, Lord Lieutenant, pillar of respectability on the surface, was an old ram on the side. Like claiming droit de seigneur and all that. He was very keen on Marina’s mother for a long time. I’m afraid the result was Marina.’

  I felt as though I was going to faint.

  ‘Brother and sister,’ I whispered again.

  ‘Well, half-brother and — sister. Hardly a healthy union. Particularly as there’s always been a strong strain of in
sanity in Hector’s family. But it doesn’t seem to deter them, does it?’

  ‘How long have they known?’ I muttered.

  ‘Only about a year. There’s always been a blood feud between the Balniels and the Macleans, as you know. So when Rory and Marina fell in love, they didn’t exactly broadcast the fact, until one night Rory got drunk and had a row with Hector (they never really got on) and told him he was going to marry Marina. Hector nearly burst a gut. The next day he told Rory the truth, and that under no circumstances could he marry Marina. Rory went berserk with rage. The shock killed Hector. He died that night of a heart attack. But the will still stood.’

  ‘My God,’ I said, dully.

  ‘So Marina married me in a fit of despair,’ Hamish went on. ‘And Rory went south and married you, which drove Marina mad with jealousy. And now, as you see, they’re up to their old tricks.’

  My brain was reeling. I felt as if I’d been kicked in the gut. Marina and Rory, brother and sister: Byron and Augusta Leigh, star-crossed lovers, a union so fatally seductive because it was impossible.

  ‘Oh, poor Rory,’ I breathed, ‘now I understand. Oh, poor, poor Rory.’

  ‘Poor you and me,’ breathed Hamish in my ear.

  He was standing very close to me, one hand fondling my wrist, his eyes fixed on my face in a greedy way. I could feel the warmth of his body, his hand stealing up my bare arm, his hot breath on my shoulder.

  ‘You mustn’t be shy of me, little Emily,’ he said caressingly, slipping his arm round my waist. ‘I think you’re very pretty, even if Rory doesn’t. Why don’t we console one another?’

  ‘No!’ I screamed. ‘No, no, no! Go away, you revolting old man. Don’t touch me!’

  I leapt to my feet, ran across the room, wrenched open the door and went slap into Finn Maclean.

  ‘Hello,’ he said. ‘I’ve been looking for you.’ Then he looked at me more closely. ‘Hey, what’s the matter?’

  ‘Nothing, everything,’ I sobbed, and shoving him violently aside, I fled past him.

  I ran out into the garden. It had been snowing again, the drive was virginally white in the pale moonlight. All was deathly silent. The snow lay soft and tender on the lawn. Crying great, heaving sobs, I ran to the edge of the cliffs. The sea stretched out, opaque, black and star-powdered. The lighthouse flashed like a blue gem, the rocks gleamed evilly two hundred feet below.

  ‘Oh, Rory,’ I sobbed. ‘I can’t go on, I can’t go on.’

  But as I took a step forward, my arm was caught in a vice-like grip.

  ‘Don’t be a bloody little fool,’ said a voice. ‘Nothing’s that important.’

  It was Finn.

  ‘Let me go,’ I sobbed. ‘I want to die.’

  He held on to my arm and finally I collapsed against him.

  ‘Oh, Finn,’ I sobbed. ‘What am I going to do?’

  He held me for a minute, then, putting an arm round my shoulders, he half carried me across the snow to the stables where Buster kept his horses.

  I collapsed on to a pile of hay, still sobbing bitterly. Finn let me cry; he just sat there stroking my shoulders. Finally I gulped, ‘It’s not true, is it, Marina and Rory both being Hector’s children?’

  Finn paused, his hand tightening on my shoulder, then he said, ‘It is, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Oh, God,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t anyone tell me?’

  ‘No-one knew except me and Rory and Marina. Marina must have told Hamish. Even Coco doesn’t know about it.’

  ‘How long have you known?’ I said dully.

  ‘As long as I can remember. I got back from school early one afternoon. I heard laughter coming from the bedroom and went in and found my mother in bed with Hector. My father was away at the time. I ran and hid in the woods. My father came home that night and sent out a search party. When they found me, my father thrashed me for worrying my mother. I never told him the truth. I suppose kids have a sort of honour even at that age. But I never forgave Hector, and he never forgave me for discovering what an old fraud he was.’

  ‘So you always knew Rory and Marina were brother and sister?’

  He nodded. ‘About a year ago, I came back from London for a weekend and discovered, to my horror, they’d fallen in love and were thinking of getting married. I tried to stop Marina, but she’d got the bit between her teeth by then, so I went to Hector and told him he’d got to tell Rory the truth.’

  ‘Not a very pretty story, is it?’ I said.

  ‘That’s why I’ve been behaving like a policeman, trying to keep them apart,’ said Finn. ‘With insanity on both sides and a blood tie between them, it would be absolutely fatal if Rory got Marina pregnant.’

  I sat numbly, trying to take it all in. Finn was holding me in his arms now, stroking my hair, soothing me like a child. I felt the hardness of his body, the gentleness of his hands. It was so long since I’d been in a man’s arms. I’ve always said I have no sense of timing.

  His mouth was so near to mine. Almost instinctively, I put my face up and kissed him. The next moment he was kissing me back.

  ‘Heavens,’ I said, wriggling away, absolutely appalled. ‘I’m terribly sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ he said softly. ‘It’s one of the nicest surprises I’ve ever had,’ and he kissed me again. This time it was a kiss that meant business. I tried to be frigid and unyielding, but could feel the warm waves of lust coasting all over me. I felt my body go weak. I was torn between desire and utter exhaustion.

  ‘Strange things happen in stables,’ I muttered weakly. ‘One moment I’m a midwife, next moment I’m bowling towards adultery. Talk about My Tart Is In The Highlands.’

  Finn smiled, got up and pulled me to my feet.

  ‘Come on, I’m taking you home.’

  ‘Please don’t,’ I said.

  ‘Listen,’ he said. ‘I never meant this to happen when I brought you in here. I want you very much, but I think now is neither the time nor the place. You’re slightly drunk and you’re suffering from severe shock. I’m not going to let you do anything you might regret in the morning.’

  He drove me home. Outside the house he burrowed in his bag and produced a couple of sleeping pills.

  ‘Take them tonight, immediately you get in, and come and see me at the surgery tomorrow at eleven. Then we can talk things over.’

  When I got in I hardly had the strength to undress. I fell, rather than got, into bed, pulled the sheets like a curtain over my head and dropped into a deep sleep.

  Chapter Nineteen

  I woke up next morning feeling ghastly, went straight to the loo and was violently sick. I had a blinding headache, took four Alka-Seltzers and was sick again. Rory was still fast asleep.

  I tiptoed around the bedroom getting my clothes on. I only just managed to make it to Finn’s surgery.

  There was only one woman in there when I arrived. Finn came out. He looked tired, but he smiled at me reassuringly.

  ‘I’ll just see Mrs Cameron first,’ he said. ‘She won’t take long.’

  I gazed unseeingly at magazines and wondered why I was feeling quite so awful. Finn’s receptionist eyed me with interest.

  Mrs Balniel looking like a road accident, she must have been thinking.

  Mrs Cameron came out, thanking Finn effusively, and I went into his surgery.

  It was large, and rather untidy, and amazingly comforting. Finn shut the door and leant against it. Then he came across the room and kissed me. It was a different kiss from last night. That was alcohol and pent-up emotion. This was slow, measured, tender, and left me just as weak with lust.

  ‘Aren’t we doing fearful things to the Hippocratic Oath?’ I said, flopping on to a chair.

  ‘I couldn’t give a damn. You aren’t my patient yet, though you ought to be, you look terrible!’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said.

  ‘And infinitely desirable. Nothing a few weeks away from Rory wouldn’t cure.’

  ‘I was as sick as a dog all morning,’ I said. ‘Nerves a
nd booze, I suppose.’

  ‘I’ll tell Miss Bates to shove off, then I’ll give you a going over.’

  ‘You’d better wipe that lipstick off first,’ I said.

  Finn laughed.

  He wasn’t laughing half an hour later.

  ‘You’re pregnant,’ he said.

  I was stunned by the news. ‘But I can’t be pregnant!’ I gasped. ‘Rory hasn’t laid a finger on me for months.’ Then I remembered. ‘Oh, God,’ I said.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ asked Finn.

  ‘After that row on Christmas Eve when you knocked Rory over, he was so mad with rage, he sort of raped me.’

  ‘That must have been it,’ said Finn.

  My brain was whirling. Me — pregnant with Rory’s child! What sort of chance would a baby have with Rory not loving me, and me fancying Finn absolutely rotten all of a sudden? I had a nightmare vision of Rory and me shouting at each other across the baby’s cot, of the baby crying all day, and Rory going spare because he couldn’t work.

  ‘Oh, heavens,’ I said shakily.

  Finn went to a cupboard in the corner of the room and got out a bottle of brandy and two glasses. ‘We’d better have a drink,’ he said.

  As I watched him fill the glasses, I was filled with a ridiculous mawkish sadness. I’ll never be able to memorize every freckle on his face now, I thought, or see the grey hairs gradually take the fire out of that red mane.

  He put a glass beside me, then took hold of my frozen hands. His were warm and strong and comforting; I felt an irresistible urge to collapse in tears on his shoulder.

  ‘It’s a hell of a mess,’ he said gently, ‘but it doesn’t matter, we’ll sort something out.’

  ‘Can we?’ I asked dolefully.

  ‘Look,’ he went on. ‘You and Rory are washed up. Anyone can see that. Do you want to keep the baby?’

  I thought for a minute. ‘Yes I do. Very much.’

  ‘That means you’ll stay with Rory?’

  ‘What else can I do?’ I said bitterly. ‘I’m signed up for this gig and I’ve got to play.’