The Back of Beyond (36 page)

Marge looked her straight in the eye. ‘I'd better tell you that I often wished the same thing, so now
you
know, too.'

Needing both shaking hands to steady the glass Marge had given her some time ago, Gwen took a good gulp of the neat whisky, hoping that it would give her the strength to survive this terrible ordeal. Not being a drinker, however, the fiery liquor almost took her breath away, and a few seconds passed before she managed a hoarse, ‘Marge, do you think Alistair will ever forgive me?'

‘I'd love to say yes, but I doubt it. Maybe you should come back to London with us for a while, to let him … you know, start missing you. That might do the trick.'

Gwen mulled this over for a few moments, then shook her head. ‘I'd rather not leave him, not in the state he's in. Mind you, I wouldn't be surprised if he throws me out when he comes back, but I don't want to depend on you and Peg.'

‘Are you forgetting Mum's house is yours now?' Marge's voice now became sharply sarcastic. ‘You can settle in there and brood for as long as you like.'

They sat back, thoughts running on much the same lines, although one was confident that her husband would forgive her for her part in the deception, while the other was equally positive that hers would not.

Dougal picked up a stone and flung it as far as he could. ‘What are you thinking, Ally?'

‘What d'you think I'm thinking? God Almighty, man, you've no idea how it feels to find out my wife's had a son to somebody else when I was rotting in a prison camp!'

‘I do know, Ally. The same as I felt when you told me it was Marge – like the bottom of my stomach had fallen out, like somebody had stuck a dagger in my bloody guts and was twisting it round and round to dig out my heart. That's it, isn't it?'

Alistair's head-shake was an agreement. ‘I never thought how it would affect you. I was positive it was Marge … and I thought you should know. I'm sorry. I wish to God I hadn't opened my big mouth. Your life would have gone on as usual and I'd have been glad it wasn't my wife that …'

‘Stop tormenting yourself, Ally. Things were different during the war. Didn't you ever have a wee fling yourself?'

‘Never. Did you?'

‘A bit of flirting. I did go all the way once, but we'd both been soaking up the drink like sponges and it didn't mean a thing.'

‘I'm not like you,' Alistair said, morosely. ‘I never let myself get in a position to be tempted.'

Shrugging at this, Dougal picked up another stone and sent it flying down the hill. ‘We'd better get back. They'll be wondering where we are.'

‘Before we go, are you going to … the boy, now you know he's not yours?'

Dougal's head swivelled round abruptly. ‘Why? Do you want him?'

‘God, no! I'll never be able to live with Gwen again, never mind her … bastard.'

‘Come now, Ally, that's a bit much. You're not going to leave her, are you?'

‘Why should I leave? She's the one who did wrong.' Alistair reflected for a short time, then said, ‘You go on back. I've still a lot of thinking to do.'

Dougal got to his feet reluctantly. ‘You're not going to do anything stupid, I hope?'

‘I'm not that daft. Go on, and say I want to be on my own for a while.'

Listening to the steadily diminishing sound of Dougal's feet, Alistair knew that he should make a decision, but his whole body was ice-cold and his brain was frozen solid. New thoughts were an impossibility. All he could do was go over what had happened a few hours ago … though it felt like a lifetime.

Recalling it only increased the ache in his heart, brought nausea and a desperate wish for oblivion. He couldn't cope with this. What was he supposed to do? Gwen couldn't really expect him to forgive her. Conceiving another man's child was bad enough, but letting her sister pass it off as hers was a thousand times worse. It was the deception that stuck in his craw, and the years they'd kept him in ignorance, made a proper fool of him.

Small flecks of light in the sky foretelling imminent dawn, he stood up stiffly, flexing all his joints to get them to move. He couldn't go home. He couldn't face any of them. He wouldn't be able to face anybody ever again. After a few tottery steps round the tower, he took up his stance at the other side, looking across at the dark silhouettes of the mountains in the distance, the bens he knew and loved, waiting for some sign of what he should do.

Dougal shook his head when he returned to Benview. ‘You'd better get some sleep, Gwen. He said he needed time to think, and I doubt if he'll come back tonight.'

‘Tonight's past already,' Marge muttered. ‘It's nearly five tomorrow morning.'

He turned on her angrily. ‘Trust you to make a joke at a time like this. And you'd better go to bed as well, because I'm going out again, and I probably won't come back till some time tomorrow either – later on today,' he added, to make sure she understood.

Outside again, shivering, he took his coat from the boot of his car, but in the act of putting it on, he wondered if he should go back inside to take one for Alistair, who was also out there in the cold, coatless. But if he went in again, he might say things in his bitterness that he would later regret, though both women deserved all the venom he could hurl at them.

As he stumbled up the uneven path again, it occurred to him that he should be thankful that it wasn't
his
wife who'd been unfaithful, but the thought didn't ease the aching void inside him. The circumstances had been such that Gwen's adultery was understandable, if not excusable, but what Marge had done had taken hours of planning. She had calmly plotted out a way to deceive not only her sister's husband but also her own, and would have got away with it if it hadn't been for some old photographs.

He could hardly believe how gullible he'd been. Fancy believing he'd managed to father a child after all the years he'd tried … but Marge wasn't Nicky's mother, either. If he was sterile, she was barren. What a combination! Yet … he was sure that she loved the boy as much as he did. They couldn't give him up, even if Alistair was willing to accept him, which wasn't likely. There was, of course, the inevitable doubt. Could
he
still look on Nicky in the same way as before? Could he maintain the same relationship with his wife? Wouldn't the thought of her scheming always come to the forefront of his mind, to cast up if she did anything to displease him in future?

He looked up, expecting to find his friend sitting by the tower, but there was no one there. In any case, would they still be friends, or would Alistair cut himself off from all further contact? The only way to find out would be to ask him, but where was he?

For God's sake! Where was he?

Chapter 28

Nancy Lawrie had left hours ago, yet Lexie Fraser still couldn't get over the shock, a double shock, in fact. Her first thought was that she would learn where her father had been all those years, that he was alive and well, and it had been a terrible disappointment when the woman couldn't tell her. Despite having always voiced her belief that he hadn't run off with a young girl, as Nancy had been then, it was worse to have it proved and not to know why he had vanished so abruptly … so completely.

After striving for some time to find an acceptable answer, it had crossed her mind that he might have been involved with a woman nearer his own age, but it couldn't have been anybody from around Forvit – nobody else had ever gone missing. The thing was, he had hardly ever gone anywhere, just a day in Aberdeen now and then on business. He could have met somebody there, of course, but it didn't seem likely – he had never stayed away long enough.

Lexie had convinced herself once more, however, that there had been no other woman. There must be some truth in her nightmares, but why had he raped her? Had his wife's illness affected her before they knew she was ill? If she'd been refusing him his rights, would his growing frustration have culminated in turning to his daughter? He had always been a loving father, had cuddled her much more than her mother ever had, had only stopped taking her on his knee when she left school at fourteen. She had accepted it as natural, but now she came to think about it, none of the other girls had ever said
her
father still took her on his knee. Her stomach lurching, Lexie mentally scolded herself for being so naïve, and for so long. She was thirty-six now, for goodness' sake, and it should have dawned on her years ago.

Another possible reason for his disappearance struck her now – more sinister but less hurtful to herself. When Roddy Liddell learned that Nancy was alive, he had jumped to the conclusion that the body unearthed by the excavators must be one of the travelling people, and working on that might be worth a try. Her father had been a compassionate man, so if he'd come across a gypsy girl in some sort of trouble, he would have tried to do something to help her, and it was well known that gypsy men were jealous-minded and fiery-tempered. If one of them found his woman with another man, no matter how innocently, that could have been enough to make him kill her.

Lexie took in a shuddering breath. That would explain the female body, and it was just possible that the man might have … she'd heard of people being abducted by the gypsies. Or they could have threatened to kill him, which would explain him running away. Trying to moisten her lips, she discovered that her tongue was just as dry, but she was sick of tea; she must have drunk gallons over the past few hours. She needed something stronger.

She never kept spirits in the house – Roddy Liddell wouldn't drink on duty and he was the only man who came to see her nowadays – so she made her way through to the shop on legs that felt as if they were attached to her body by pieces of elastic. She switched on the light and was so engrossed in choosing between Glenfiddich or 5-Star Cognac that the imperative knock on the shop door almost made the two bottles slip through her fingers. Her nerves were in such a state that she couldn't face speaking to anyone – whoever it was shouldn't expect to be served in the middle of the night even though she was behind the counter – but a hoarse voice hissed through the letterbox, ‘It's Alistair, Lexie.'

Her hand shook as she turned the key in the lock, and he barged right past her and through to the house before she could utter a word. Locking the shop door and switching off the light again, she supposed that he had heard what had happened and had come to discuss what it meant to her.

‘Oh, God, it's awful!' he moaned, when she joined him in her kitchen.

‘I still can't take it in properly,' she agreed, before she noticed how strangely he was looking at her. ‘How did you find out?'

His expression hardened. ‘How long have
you
known?'

‘Since just before six, and when the police inspector came …'

‘Police?' he exclaimed. ‘What have the police got to do with it?'

‘He thought the body was Nancy Lawrie, so when somebody told him they'd seen her coming here …' His stunned expression made her say, sharply, ‘You didn't know about her turning up again? What did you come for, then?'

He seemed to search for a reply, then, his voice hoarse and strained, he put forward another question. ‘Didn't your father come with her?'

‘You'll never believe this …' she began, but before she could tell him anything, her knees gave way and she thumped down on the sofa.

‘Lexie, I'm sorry,' Alistair muttered. ‘I wouldn't have forced my way in if I'd …'

Her attempted smile didn't reach her eyes, ‘I need a drink. That's why I was in the shop … will you get the bottle of brandy I left on the counter?'

He dashed through to fetch it, took two glasses from the cupboard she indicated with her hand, and sat down beside her. ‘Has something happened to Alec – is he ill? Is that why she came?'

She took one good sip to fortify her, and let it swirl around in her mouth before swallowing it with a grimacing shudder. ‘He was never with her. He never had anything to do with her. It wasn't his baby she was having, it was Doctor Birnie's.'

His own troubles fading, Alistair's eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Doctor Tom? All I can remember about him was he was tall, and kind of good-looking, and he surely wouldn't have needed to take up with a young lassie. His wife was a right bonnie woman, though she was middle-aged. Her hair was a lovely wavy chestnut, and her eyes were dark brown and looked at you as if you meant something to her. I'd a bit of a crush on her when I was about thirteen or so.'

Stuck for something else to say, he added, ‘Maybe she wasn't as old as that. I suppose everybody over twenty was middle-aged to me at that age.'

At that moment, someone knocked on the kitchen window and, noticing Lexie's apprehension, he asked, gently, ‘Will I open the door, or …?'

‘It's Dougal Finnie, Lexie,' came a deep voice. ‘Is Alistair there?'

Alistair rose and went to the door, but to save Dougal blurting out what had happened at Benview earlier, he said, as he let him in, ‘Lexie's had a bit of a shock. Nancy Lawrie came to see her today and Alec didn't run away with her, after all.'

‘My God! So where did he go?'

Her mind and emotions in utter turmoil, Lexie accepted Dougal's presence without question and answered him herself. ‘She thought he was still here. She wanted to speak to him. I was just going to tell Alistair …'

The two men listened, spellbound, as the sorry tale unfolded, not saying a word in case they dammed the flow, but when she finally said, ‘And that's all I know,' Dougal murmured, ‘It's a funny business, isn't it? You've no idea what made your father …?'

She related what had been going through her mind during the hours she had been sitting alone, but when she mentioned the likelihood of him being threatened by an angry gypsy, Alistair soothed, ‘No, Lexie! Your father wouldn't … there must be some other explanation. Maybe he
did
meet a woman in Aberdeen …' He stopped abruptly. ‘You said the police inspector had been here last night again. What did he have to say?'

‘They're going to start a proper search for him, but I don't think they'll ever …'

Dougal gave a slightly anxious cough. ‘Ally, I think it's time we were going. We've still some things to sort out ourselves.'

Alistair scowled. ‘We can't leave Lexie in this state.' He turned to her solicitously. ‘We'll stay as long as you want.'

‘Your wives'll wonder where you are.'

The two men exchanged cautious glances, then Dougal said, ‘There was a wee bit a row, that's why we came out, and they won't expect us till we show up.'

‘No, off you go,' she murmured. ‘I'll be OK. I'll have to open the shop in a couple of hours anyway for the newspapers. The van'll be here any time now.'

Alistair was not particularly keen on returning to face the music, but he bowed to Lexie's wishes and left quietly, for which she was truly grateful. She was glad she'd had someone to talk to, more than glad that it had been Alistair and Dougal, but was relieved that they had gone now. She had to open the shop soon; she couldn't let her customers down.

She busied herself tidying up the kitchen and giving the room a perfunctory sweep and dust before she went upstairs to wash herself and change her clothes. Downstairs again, she felt a bit peckish and made a couple of slices of toast and a cup of cocoa to wash them down. It was while she was rinsing her dishes that the question arose in her mind. Why had Alistair come to see her? He hadn't known about Nancy Lawrie, and Dougal had said something about a row. But who had the row been between? Not Alistair and Dougal, they had still been very friendly. Gwen and Marge?

Come to think of it, though, it was Dougal who had been most eager to get back to Benview, so maybe the quarrel had been between him and Marge. Maybe he'd walked out on his family, just like her father had walked out on his twenty years ago? Maybe poor Marge was crying her eyes out right now. But that wouldn't have made Alistair come to see her … unless he and Gwen had fallen out about it.

Everything tidy, she went to the mirror to give her face a light rub of pancake make-up and apply a touch of lipstick before opening the shop. Whatever had happened in the past, she reflected as she turned the key in the lock, all she could do now was to wait and see if anything came of the police search for her father.

‘Look Ally,' Dougal observed as they walked along the road, ‘I know you feel sorry for Lexie, but you'd better steer clear of her. You've your own life to sort out.'

‘Aye.'

‘What are you going to do about Gwen?'

‘God knows.'

‘It's not up to Him, though, it's up to you! Either you let things go and carry on as you were, or …'

‘Or?'

‘For any sake, Ally! Do you want me to make your mind up for you? If you can't bring yourself to understand how it happened and forgive her, you'll have to leave her, or tell her to get out. Gee yourself, man!'

Alistair stopped walking and looked pathetically at his friend. ‘I can't forgive her, Dougal, and I'll never forget what she did.'

‘Nobody's asking you to forget, but if I can forgive Marge for telling me lies …'

‘That's a different thing! She didn't have another man's child.'

‘Granted, but telling me I was the father of another man's child was just about as bad, wouldn't you say?' Dougal stretched out his arm to pat his friend on the back. ‘Let it go, Ally. Don't ruin your children's lives as well as your own and Gwen's. Be … what's the word? Magnanimous, I think. Try, I know it'll be hard, but it's the best way.' Getting no reply, he deemed it wise to leave Alistair to work it out for himself.

As it happened, the decision was taken for him. When they went into the house, a row of cases and bags was sitting in the porch, and the three women were silent and tearful.

‘What's going on?' Dougal asked Marge.

‘Gwen's coming back with us … and no arguing!'

He turned to Alistair, waiting for him to plead with his wife to stay, but he snarled, ‘Good! That saves me throwing you out!' Then he spun round and stalked through the door again.

‘It's OK, Dougal,' Gwen muttered, ‘he's made it plain that he wants me to leave. I know what I'm doing, and Leila and David will be all right. Their lives are here. Now there's no more to be said, but if you want some breakfast before we go …?'

‘I'm not hungry.'

‘Let's get the car packed, then. That's if … will it be too tight a squeeze with an extra passenger and more luggage?'

‘We'll manage.' Dougal's voice was gruff.

Everyone was upset by the time the car was loaded, including little Nicky, who could sense the drama around him, and as they drew away from the house, even the four adults had to fight back the tears.