went in; it took a few minutes of patient comforting on her part before she could induce her patient to speak. ‘I—I h-hope you h-had a lovely d-day,’ she sobbed, ‘and this is s-so s-silly, because I d-don’t know why I’m c-crying,’ and then contradicted herself by adding: ‘Rolf s-said he would t-telephone and he hasn’t.’
‘Perhaps he’s been too busy,’ said Sappha, who felt strongly that the telephone was a modern blessing which had its drawbacks. How many times had she sat by the wretched instrument in London waiting for Andrew to ring, and all the while… She jerked her thoughts back to her patient; it was really too bad of the tiresome man, he should have squeezed in a call whatever he was doing. ‘He’ll telephone later,’ she said with a conviction she didn’t feel, ‘and don’t worry about being a bit tearful, Baroness—remember what Uncle John said; that you were bound to feel depressed for no reason at all. I’m going to wash your face and tidy your hair, and after supper we’ll play that game of draughts we never had.’
The evening was cheerful after all—with the fire alight in the old-fashioned grate and the chintz curtains drawn, the room looked cosy and inviting. Sappha ate a hasty supper and went back upstairs and true to her promise got out the draughts board and allowed the Baroness to beat her soundly before giving her her sleeping pill and tucking her up for the night. She had only just got downstairs to say goodnight to the MacFees when the telephone rang and Mr MacFee, who answered it, said:
‘It’s for you, Sappha,’ he smiled a little, ‘a man.’
She could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she crossed the room. It could be Andrew, miraculously in love with her again, telephoning to say so because he couldn’t wait to write it. She picked up the receiver and said Hullo in a voice which shook with excitement.
But it wasn’t Andrew, although it was a man—a man with strange eyebrows who had laughed at her and thought her clothes were silly, and who had forgotten to telephone his mother. His deep voice came lazily over the wire: ‘Oh, dear, I’m not the right one, am I?’ he asked outrageously. ‘How’s Mother?’
She choked back disappointment, furious with him and with herself.
‘She’s been waiting for you to ring up,’ she said sharply. ‘She was upset…’
‘I’m sorry. I imagine you’ve given her her sleeping pill by now, that’s why I thought I’d better speak to you first.’
‘Well, it’s no good, she’s asleep.’ Sappha spoke with some thing of a snap.
‘You sound like a love-starved spinster with no looks and no prospects.’ He was laughing, and forgetful of the MacFees, sitting across the room politely not listening, she burst out: ‘How dare you!’
‘I’ll dare anything if I have a mind to,’ he said coolly, ‘and just for the record, you’ll never starve for lack of love, my good girl, and your prospects are about as good as they can be.’
Sappha drew a deep breath, let it out noisily and said helplessly:
‘Well!’ She was prevented from saying anything else because he went on at once: ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t telephone earlier—circumstances prevented it. I’ll ring in the morning—you can tell her that if she wakes. I hadn’t forgotten, it was quite impossible.’
She said: ‘Very well’ in a stiff little voice and he went on as though she hadn’t spoken. ‘I’ve arranged for Tonia to come over with me. It’s most inconvenient, but I don’t dare face you without her. That will be a week on Thursday. Goodbye.’
He rang off before she had time to open her mouth. She put down the receiver slowly and went back to the MacFees and repeated what he had said, but with a good deal of it expurgated, so that her mild version didn’t tally in the least with the heated retorts she had given. This quite escaped her, and the MacFees, beyond a mild comment on the pleasure of seeing Rolf and Antonia again, didn’t mention it.
Later on, in bed, Sappha went over all that he had said. She hadn’t understood his remarks about her not starving for love and having good prospects and she thought about it for a long time, getting more and more frustrated because it didn’t make sense, finally she said out loud: ‘Oh, he’s crazy,’ then turned over and went determinedly to sleep. The following days passed quietly enough and the boredom which she had half expected to settle upon her after a week or so, didn’t materialise. Instead, she began to find the days not quite long enough. The Baroness had taken heart again; Rolf had telephoned her several times and she was full of excitement at seeing Antonia so soon. She had never asked Sappha if she had spoken to Rolf about her daughter’s visit, nor did she do so now beyond making a comment upon his kindness and understanding. Sappha, asked to agree with her patient upon her son’s excellent qualities, agreed woodenly, remembering what he had said—she wondered if she would ever forget his words even though she had forgiven them. She pummelled the pillow she was shaking up with unnecessary vigour—he was one of the most unpleasant men she had ever met.
She had her day off on Wednesday and took the Mini in the other direction down to Balmarca, so that she might see the hills of Skye across the Kyle of Lochalsh. She had lunch at the hotel there and then went on to look at Eilean Donan Castle on the edge of Loch Duich. She followed on down the steep road to get a good view of the Kintail Mountains, but they were fast disappearing in heavy clouds, so she found a place to turn the car and started back home. She had promised to have tea with Gloria anyway, and it was already getting on for four o’clock.
Gloria wasn’t home, but Sappha let herself in, poked up the fire, put on the kettle and then went to fetch the cake she had brought from the baker’s. The cottage had a small rather cluttered kitchen, gay with gingham curtains and a collection of copper pans which Sappha coveted. She pottered around, rather enjoying herself so that she found herself reflecting, while cutting bread for the toast, that life in Dialach was so pleasant that the idea of going back to London seemed quite laughable. A fortunate thing, in the circumstances, because that was the last place she wanted to be in—probably by now Andrew had married that beastly little blonde…
She frowned and sighed at the thought, so that Gloria, coming in at that moment, exclaimed: ‘Good lord, Sappha, what’s eating you? You look ferocious—sadly ferocious—or do I mean ferociously sad? What’s the matter?’
Sappha speared bread on to a toasting fork. ‘Hullo—nothing, really.’
Gloria cast her hat on one chair, her coat on another and her case on the table. ‘Not bored, are you?’
‘No, on the contrary—I was just thinking how bored I should be in London.’
‘Well, even if you were,’ said Gloria, making the tea, ‘you won’t be after tomorrow. Rolf and Antonia will be here, you can’t be bored when they’re around. What do you think of Rolf?’
Sappha buttered toast. ‘Well, I don’t really know him—I mean we only talked a little.’
Gloria laughed. ‘But he’s not the kind of man you need to talk to—don’t tell me he didn’t make an impression on you, or you’ll be the first woman under ninety who hasn’t been bowled over.’
The two of them sat down by the fire in the little sitting room and bit into their toast. ‘If you want to know,’ said Sappha, her mouth full, ‘I found him rude, bossy—and he laughs behind his face.’
Gloria stared at her over her tea cup. ‘I haven’t asked you yet, but it’s obvious to anyone with eyes in their heads that you came up here to get away from something
