September (1990) (22 page)

But now, faced by Virginia Aird, he found his preconceptions of Balnaid doing a swift about turn. For this elegant and sophisticated woman, with her mesmerizing eyes and her charming suggestion of a transatlantic drawl, could never be dull. Perceptive enough to leave you alone with The Times, if that was what you wanted, but still the sort of hostess who could, on the spur of the moment, think up some new and amusing ploy or ask a party of entertaining friends around for an impromptu drink. His imagination moved on to other delights. There would probably be some fishing. And shooting, too. Although that wouldn't be much use to Noel because he had never shot. Nevertheless . . .

He said, "How very kind of you to invite me."

"It would be best if we kept it very casual ... as though, for some reason, you were coming anyway." She thought about this, and then her face lit up with bright inspiration. "Of course. The Steyntons' dance. What could be more natural than that? I know Alexa is in two minds about coming, but . . ."

"She said she wouldn't go without me and of course I haven't had an invitation."

"That's no problem. I'll have a word with Verena Steynton. There are never enough men at these affairs. She'll be delighted."

"You may have to persuade Alexa."

As he said this, Alexa came back into the room, bearing a pink-and-white jug in which she had loosely arranged Noel's offering. "Are you talking about me behind my back?" She put the jug on the table behind the sofa. "Don't those look lovely? You are kind, Noel. It makes me feel special, being brought flowers." She fiddled with a stray carnation, and then abandoned the arrangement and returned to her seat in the corner of the sofa. "Persuade Alexa to do what?"

"Come to the Steyntons' dance," said Virginia, "and bring Noel with you. I'll fix an invitation for him. And stay with us at Balnaid."

"But perhaps Noel doesn't want to go."

"I never said I didn't want to go."

"You did so!" Alexa was indignant. "The morning the invitation came you said tribal dances were scarcely your scene. I thought that was the end of the matter."

"We never really discussed it."

"You mean you would come?"

"If you want me to, of course."

Alexa shook her head in disbelief. "But Noel, it will be tribal dances. Reels and things. Could you bear that? It's no fun if you can't do them."

"I'm not totally inexperienced. That year I fished in Sutherland, there was a hooley in the hotel one evening and we all leaped around like savages, and as far as I remember, I leaped with the best of them. A couple of whiskies are all I need to lose my inhibitions."

Virginia laughed. "Well, if it all becomes too much for the poor man, I'm sure there'll be a night-club or a disco, so he can go and smooch in there." She stubbed out her cigarette. "What do you say, Alexa?"

"There doesn't seem to be much for me to say. Between the two of you, you've fixed the whole thing up."

"In that case, that's our little dilemma solved."

"What little dilemma?"

"Noel casually meeting Edmund."

"Oh. I see."

"Don't look so miserable. It's the perfect plan." She glanced at the clock, laid down her glass. "I must go."

Noel got to his feet. "Can I drive you somewhere?"

"No. You're sweet, but if you could find me a taxi, that would be great. . . ."

While he was gone on this errand, Virginia put her shoes back on, checked on her beautiful hairdo, reached for her. scarlet jacket. Fastening the buttons, she caught Alexa's anxious gaze and smiled encouragingly.

"Don't worry about a thing. I'll make it okay for you before you've even set foot in the house."

"But you and Fa. You won't still be having a row, will you? I couldn't bear it if there was a hateful atmosphere with the two of you being angry with each other."

"No, of course not. Forget that. I shouldn't have told you in the first place. We'll have a great time. And your being there will cheer me up after poor Henry's gone to school."

"Poor little boy. I can't bear to think about it."

"Like I said, neither can I. However, there doesn't seem to be much either of us can do about it." They kissed. "Thank you for the drink."

"Thank you for coming. And for being so marvellous. You . . . you do like him, don't you, Virginia?"

"I think he's dishy. You'll answer the invitation now?"

"Of course."

"And, Alexa, buy yourself a peachy new dress."

Chapter
5

Thursday the Twenty-fifth

Edmund Aird drove his BMW into the car-park of Edinburgh Airport just as the seven-o'clock shuttle from London drifted down out of the clouds and lined up for landing. Unhurriedly, he found a slot for himself, got out of the car and locked the door, watching, as he did so, the approach of the plane. He had timed things exactly, and this gave him much satisfaction. Standing around and waiting, for any thing or anybody, filled him with impatience. Every moment of time was precious, and to fill in so. much as five minutes kicking his heels and doing nothing caused him considerable frustration and anguish.

He walked through the car-park, crossed the road, entered the terminal. The aircraft, with Virginia on board, had landed. A number of people stood around, come to meet friends or relations. They were a mixed bunch and appeared to be either in a state of wild excitement or total unconcern. A young mother with three small children milling noisily around her knees lost her patience and slapped one of them. The child roared in indignation. The carousel began to move. Edmund stood jingling the loose change in his trouser pocket.

"Edmund."

He turned to see a man he met most days lunching at the New Club. "Hello, there."

"Who are you meeting?"

"Virginia."

"I've come to pick up my daughter and her two children. They're coming to stay for a week. There's some wedding on and the wee girl's going to be a bridesmaid. At least the plane's on time. I caught the three-o'clock shuttle from Heathrow last week and we didn't take off until half past five."

"I know. It's hell, isn't it?"

The doors at the top of the stairway had opened, the first trickle of passengers started to descend. Some searched for the one who had come to meet them; some looked lost and anxious, laden by too much hand
-
luggage. There was the usual proportion of businessmen returning from London conferences and meetings, complete with brief-cases, umbrellas, folded newspapers. One, quite unself-consciously, bore a sheaf of red roses.

Edmund watched them, waiting for Virginia. His appearance, tall and elegantly suited, his demeanour, the heavily lidded eyes and expressionless features gave nothing away, and a stranger observing him would glean no clue as to his inner uncertainties. For the truth was that Edmund could not be sure either of his welcome from Virginia, nor what her reactions would be when she saw him standing there.

Relations between them, ever since the evening he had broken the news of his plans for sending Henry away to school, had been painfully strained. They had never had a row before, never quarrelled, and although he was a man who could exist very well without other people's approval, he was bored by the whole business, longed for a truce, and for this chill politeness that lay between them to come to an end and be finally finished.

He was not hopeful. As soon as the Strathcroy Primary had broken up for the summer, Virginia had packed Henry up and taken him to Devon to stay there with her parents for three long weeks. Edmund had hoped that this extended separation would somehow heal the wounds and bring Virginia's sulks to an end, but the holiday, spent in the company of her beloved child, appeared only to have hardened her attitude, and she returned home to Balnaid as cool as ever.

For a limited time, Edmund could deal with this, but he knew that the chill atmosphere that existed between them did not go unnoticed by Henry. He had become uncommunicative, prone to easy tears, and more dependent than ever on his precious Moo. Edmund hated Moo. He found it offensive that his son was still unable to sleep without that disgusting old scrap of baby blanket. He had been suggesting for some months that Virginia should wean Henry from Moo, but Virginia, as far as he could see, had ignored his advice. Now, with only weeks to go before Henry left for Templehall, she was going to have her work cut out.

After the debacle of the Devon holiday, and becoming frustrated with Virginia's resolute non-communication, Edmund had considered precipitating another row with his young wife, so bringing matters to a head. But then he decided that this could do nothing but worsen the situation. In her present state of mind, she was quite capable of packing her bags and hightailing it off to Leesport, Long Island, to stay with her devoted grandparents, now returned from their cruise. There she would be petted and spoiled as she had always been, and vociferously reassured that she was in the right and Edmund a hard-hearted monster even to contemplate sending small Henry away from her.

And so Edmund had kept his counsel and decided to ride out the emotional storm. He was, after all, not about to change his mind nor make any compromises. It was, at the end of the day, up to Virginia.

When she announced that she was going to London by herself for a few days, Edmund greeted the news with nothing but relief. If a few daysv of fun and shopping did not put her in a more sensible frame of mind, then nothing would. Henry, she told him, was going to stay with Vi. He could do what he pleased. And so he put the dogs into kennels with Gordon Gillock, closed Balnaid, and spent the week in his flat in Moray Place.

The time alone had come as no hardship to him. He simply cleared his mind of all domestic problems, allowed himself to become absorbed in his work, and enjoyed being able to put in long and productive days at his office. As well, the word went swiftly around that Edmund Aird was in town and on his own. Extra attractive men were always at a premium, and the invitations to dinner had poured in. During Virginia's absence he had not once spent an evening at home.

But the hard truth was that he loved his wife and deeply resented this constraint that had lain for so long, like a fetid bog, between them. Standing waiting for her to appear, he hoped devoutly that the time spent enjoying herself in London had brought her to her senses.

For Virginia's sake. Because he had no intention of living under the cloud of her disapproval and umbrage for so much as one more day, and had already made the decision to stay in Edinburgh, and not return to Balnaid, if she had not relented.

Virginia was one of the last to appear. Through the door and down the stairs. He saw her at once. Her hair was different and she was dressed in unfamiliar and obviously brand-new clothes. Black trousers and a sapphire-blue shirt, and an immensely long raincoat that reached almost to her ankles. She was carrying, along with her flight bag, a number of shiny and extravagant
-
looking boxes and carriers, the very picture of an elegant woman fresh from a mammoth shopping spree. As well, she looked sensationally glamorous and about ten years younger.

And she was his wife. Despite everything, he realized all at once how dreadfully he had missed her. He di
d n
ot move from where he stood, but he could feel the' drum-beat of his own heart.

She saw him and paused. Their eyes met. Those blue and brilliant eyes of hers. For a long moment they simply looked at each other. Then she smiled, and came on down towards him.

Edmund took a long, deep breath in which relief, joy, and a surge of youthful well-being were all inextricably mingled. London, it appeared, had done the trick. Everything was going to be all right. He felt his face break into an answering, unstoppable smile, and went forward to greet her.

Ten minutes later, they were back in the car, Virginia's luggage stowed in the boot, doors closed, seat-belts fastened. Alone and together.

Edmund reached for the car keys, tossed them in his hand. "What do you want to do?" he asked.

"What suggestions do you have?"

"We can head straight back to Balnaid. Or we can go to the flat. Or we can go and have dinner in Edinburgh and then drive back to Balnaid. Henry is spending another night with Vi, so we are completely free."

"I should like to go out for dinner and then go home."

"Then that is what we shall do." He inserted the car key, switched on the ignition. "I have a table booked at Rafaelli's." He manoeuvred the crowded car-park, drove to the toll-gate, paid his dues. They moved out onto the road.

"How was London?"

"Hot and crowded. But fun. I saw masses of people, and went to about four parties, and Felicity had got tickets for Phantom of the Opera. I spent so much money, you're going to pass out when the bills come in."

"Did you get a dress for the Steyntons' dance?"

"Yes. At Caroline Charles. A really dreamy creation. And I got my hair done."

"I noticed."

"Do you like it?"

"Very elegant. And that coat is new."

"I felt such a country frump when I got to London, I went slightly mad. It's Italian. Not much use in Strathcroy, I admit, but I couldn't resist it."