so precisely. A pity he can’t see me on duty, she thought peevishly, and said aloud: ‘Donald—he’s younger than I—is at Aberdeen and doing very well. He’s going in for surgery.’
She encountered the doctor’s gaze again and fidgeted under it. ‘He was in his pram when you were here.’
He said smoothly: ‘Ah, yes, I remember. Father always kept me up to date with any news about you; there’s Mary—she’s married, isn’t she?—and Margaret?’
‘Here she is now,’ said Mrs MacFarlane, ‘back from school—and don’t forget James, he’s still at boarding school.’ She cast a fond look at her last-born, gobbling cake. ‘Henry’s only home because he’s had chickenpox.’
There was a small stir as Margaret came in. She was already pretty and at twelve years old bade fair to outshine Eleanor later on. She embraced her mother, declaring she was famished, assured Eleanor that she would need help with her homework and went to kiss her father. She saw the doctor then and said instantly: ‘Is that your car in the lane? It’s absolutely wizard!’
Her father’s voice was mildly rebuking. ‘This is Fulk van Hensum, Margaret, he used to come and stay with us a long time ago—you remember his father? He is to stay with us for a day or so.’
She shook hands, smiling widely. ‘Oh, yes—I remember your father and I know about you too.’ She eyed him with some curiosity. ‘You’re very large, aren’t you?’
He smiled slowly. ‘I suppose I am. Yes, that’s my car outside—it’s a Panther de Ville.’
It was Henry who answered him. ‘I say, is it really? May I look at it after tea? There are only a few built, aren’t there—it’s rather like an XJ12, isn’t it? With a Jag engine…’
The big man gave him a kindly look. ‘A motorcar enthusiast?’ he wanted to know, and when Henry nodded, ‘We’ll go over it presently if you would like that—it has some rather nice points…’ He smiled at the little boy and then addressed Eleanor with unexpected suddenness. ‘When do you go back to Edinburgh?’
She looked up from filling second cups. ‘In a few days, Friday.’
‘Good, I’ll drive you down, I’ve an appointment in that part of the world on Saturday.’
She said stiffly: ‘That’s kind of you, but I can go very easily by train.’
Her mother looked at her in some astonishment. ‘Darling, you’ve said a dozen times how tedious it is going to Edinburgh by train, and then there’s the bus to Lairg first…’
‘I drive tolerably well,’ murmured the doctor. ‘We could go to Lairg and on to Inverness. It would save you a good deal of time, but of course, if you are nervous…’
‘I am not nervous,’ said Eleanor coldly. ‘I merely do not want to interfere with your holiday.’
‘Oh, but you’re not,’ he told her cheerfully. ‘I have to go to Edinburgh—I’ve just said so. I came here first because I had some books my father wanted your father to have.’
Which led the conversation into quite different channels.
It was a crisp, bright October morning when Eleanor woke the next day—too good to stay in bed, she decided. She got up, moving quietly round her pretty little bedroom, pulling on slacks and a sweater again, brushing and plaiting her hair. She went down to the kitchen without making a sound and put on the kettle; a cup of tea, she decided, then a quick peep at Mrs Trot and the kittens before taking tea up to her parents; and there would still be time to take Punch, the dog, for a short walk before helping to get breakfast.
She was warming the pot when Fulk said from the door: ‘Good morning, Eleanor—coming out for a walk? It’s a marvellous morning.’
She spooned tea carefully. ‘Hullo, have you been out already?’
‘Yes, but I’m more than willing to go again. Who’s the tea for?’
‘Me—and you, now you’re here.’
He said softly: ‘I wonder why you don’t like me, Eleanor?’
She poured tea into two mugs and handed him one, and said seriously: ‘I think it’s because you arrived unexpectedly—quite out of the blue—you see, I never thought I’d see you again and I didn’t like you when I was a little girl. It’s funny how one remembers…’
He smiled. ‘You were such a little girl, but I daresay you were right, I was a horrid boy—most boys are from time to time and you were bad for me; you made me feel like the lord of creation, following me around on those fat legs of yours, staring at me with those eyes, listening to every word I said—your eyes haven’t changed at all, Eleanor.’
Her voice was cool. ‘How very complimentary you are all of a sudden. You weren’t so polite yesterday.’
He strolled over and held out his mug for more tea. ‘One sometimes says the wrong thing when one is taken by surprise.’
She didn’t bother to think about that; she was pursuing her own train of thought. ‘I know I’m big,’ she said crossly, ‘but I don’t need to be reminded of it.’
He looked momentarily surprised and there was a small spark of laughter in his eyes, but all he said was: ‘I won’t remind you again, I promise. Shall we cry truce and take the dog for a walk? After all, we shall probably not meet again for another twenty years or even longer than that.’
She was aware of disappointment at the very thought. ‘All right, but I must just go up to Mother and Father with this tray.’
He was waiting at the kitchen door when she got down again, and Punch was beside him. ‘I must take Mrs Trot’s breakfast over first,’ she warned him.
They crossed the back yard together and rather to her surprise he took the bowl of milk she was carrying from her and mounted the ladder behind her while Punch, wary of Mrs Trot’s maternal claws, stayed prudently in the stable. The little cat received them with pleasure, accepted the milk and fish and allowed them to admire her kittens before they left, going down the short lane which separated the manse and the small church from the village. The huddle of houses and cottages was built precariously between the mountains at their back and the sea, tucked almost apologetically into a corner of the rock-encircled sandy bay. As they reached the beach they were met by a chilly wind from the north, dispelling any illusion that the blue sky and sunshine were an aftertaste of summer, so that they were forced to step out briskly, with Punch tearing down to the edge of the sea and then retreating from the cold waves.
Eleanor was surprised to find that she was enjoying Fulk’s company; it was obvious, she told herself, that he had grown into an arrogant man, very sure of himself, probably selfish too, even though she had to admit to his charm. All the same, he was proving himself a delightful companion now, talking about everything under the sun in a friendly manner which held no arrogance at all, and when they got back to the house he surprised her still further by laying the breakfast table while she cooked for Margaret before she left for school. Half way through their activities, Henry came down, rather indignant that he had missed the treat of an early morning walk, but more than reconciled to his loss when Fulk offered to take him for a drive in the Panther. The pair of them went away directly after breakfast and weren’t seen again until a few minutes before lunch, when they
