Anne Douglas (12 page)

‘Put what back? For God’s sake, Lindy, spell it out!’

‘Falling in love. Neil fell in love with someone. At first sight.’

‘Fell in love?’ Rod stared. ‘With someone else? Was he mad?’

‘He thinks so.’ Lindy smiled coldly. ‘But he still hopes she’s going to love him in the same way.’

‘Who is she? Who is this girl he could think he loves more than you?’

Lindy sighed. ‘I’d better explain, Rod. Her name is Rosemary and she’s a new tenant. But no ordinary tenant.’

As briefly as she could, Lindy told Rod about Rosemary Dalrymple and the misfortunes of her mother, Jemima’s ex-employer. How Rosemary was living temporarily in the tenement and had settled better than anyone had expected, but wouldn’t be staying. How Neil had not yet declared his love but was certain Rosemary would share it and want to marry him, which did seem to show that he was, if not mad, at least blind to reality.

‘In a way, I think I should feel sorry for him,’ Lindy finished, after the waitress had whisked away omelette plates and taken their order for apple pie. ‘But I feel too upset, Rod. He’s destroyed what we had; he’s sort of left me dangling over a great hole, and I don’t seem to want to forgive him.’

‘Of course you can’t forgive him!’ cried Rod. ‘Whatever the reason, he’s let you down, just as you say. You’re the one he’s supposed to love, not this girl from Never-Never Land, isn’t that right?’

‘I don’t know. Jemima thinks we were never really in love and it’s true, we weren’t for a long time – we were just friends, as I said. Then that seemed to change.’ Lindy looked at Rod. ‘After he’d made me give you up.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ said Rod, and both were silent.

The apple pies arrived and were eaten without more talk, then Rod paid the bill and they left the café, the waitress again smiling over her tip.

‘You’re sure you didn’t want coffee?’ Rod asked Lindy in the street, busy with lunchtime traffic. She shook her head and said she must get back.

‘Your stepmother said no hurry.’

‘Aye, but Saturday afternoon can be busy. I should go.’

‘Do I take it Neil is no longer the blue-eyed boy for her?’

‘Too right. He’s out of favour.’

‘And I’m in?’ Rod’s look was serious. ‘Or not? Look, I don’t care about being in favour with anyone but you. You know that, don’t you?’

‘I don’t know why you should want to be, Rod, after what I did.’

‘Don’t think like that, Lindy. I understood how things were for you. Neil had been a part of your life; I was someone you’d just met, didn’t really know. How could you be expected to choose me over him?’

‘There you go again,’ she sighed. ‘Being so sympathetic. Making me feel bad.’

‘Come on, you’ve no reason to feel that.’ He gave a slight smile. ‘I mean, you came out with me today. Didn’t send me packing.’

‘I don’t want to send you packing, Rod.’

He took her hand and held it. ‘But?’ he asked quietly. ‘There is a “but”, isn’t there?’

She released her hand and began to walk up the street, Rod walking with her, step for step.

‘It’s just that I still feel a bit . . . battered, if that’s the word, Rod. I want to see you, but I’ve – I don’t know – lost all confidence.’

‘Oh, Lindy, if I could lay my hands on that damned friend of yours, I’d – hell, I don’t know what I’d do. You were so full of life, so much at ease with yourself, weren’t you? And he’s made you feel rejected when that’s the last thing you should ever feel. Look, what you have to do is understand that Neil’s ideas don’t count now. He’s put himself out of your life, he doesn’t matter, and now you can begin to forget him.’

Rod’s eyes were shining as he put Lindy’s arm into his. ‘And I’m the one to help you to do that, Lindy. Will you let me? Will you give me the chance?’

She nodded, her expression clearing, her own eyes, if not shining, meeting his directly, and her hand suddenly finding its way back into his. ‘Rod, you’re very good to me,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m really grateful. If you want to see me, I want to see you.’

‘You mean that? Oh, Lindy!’

They began to quicken their steps back to Murchie’s Provisions, where they exchanged long, serious looks as a last chance to say goodbye before going back into Myra’s realm.

‘You going to help me shop?’ asked Rod.

‘Of course. You’ll have forgotten where everything is.’

‘But first tell me – when can I see you again?’

‘Sunday?’

‘Sunday? You mean tomorrow?’ He took a long breath, only just stopping himself in time from saying aloud that Sunday, of course, was no longer the writing fellow’s day. It was his day now, and he didn’t have to stop himself from smiling at the thought. ‘That’d be wonderful, because it’s my Sunday off. At the hostel we only get one in four, so that’s a bit of luck. What time shall we say?’

‘Two o’clock? Come to the tenement – we’re number nineteen this street, you remember. Come into the hall and knock on our door, first on the right. I’ll be waiting, anyway.’

‘Why do those words sound so amazing?’ Rod gave one last press to Lindy’s hand, then pushed open the shop door and laughed at the sound of the bell. ‘In we go!’ he cried. ‘Let shopping commence!’

All Sunday morning, to everyone’s dismay, Myra worked on cleaning the living room – shaking mats, washing the floor, dusting everything in sight, until even George was driven to complaint, Struan fled, and Gingerboy slept under Lindy’s bed rather than on it, to be sure of being out of the way. Lindy was forced into helping Myra, though she too complained, saying if all this was being done to impress Rod Connor, he might not even come in.

‘He’s only coming to collect me, Aunt Myra. I don’t even need to invite him into the flat.’

‘Of course you should invite him in, Lindy! I thought that was why you’d asked him to call for you here.’

‘No, I just thought it’d be a good place to meet. Anybody’d think he was my young man, but I’ve only been out with him once.’

‘That’s true,’ George put in. ‘We’re no’ going to be on show as future in-laws, eh?’

Myra shook her head. ‘He’s keen, George. He’s been keen right from the start. I saw that when I first saw him looking at Lindy in the shop, but I thought she was Neil’s girl and didn’t want to encourage him.’

‘I was never Neil’s girl,’ said Lindy quietly. ‘Listen, are we finished now? It all looks very nice. So let’s get on with Sunday dinner, then. I want it out of the way in good time today.’

‘I wish it was dinner time now,’ George groaned. ‘If I’d known you were going to be going through this place like a whirlwind, Myra, I’d have gone out with Struan.’

‘Well, you can stop complaining,’ Myra declared. ‘Dinner won’t be long. The meat’s nearly done, as a matter o’ fact, and Lindy can put the veg on, eh?’

‘And you’ll make the Yorkshire puddings,’ said Lindy.

‘Best thing I’ve heard all morning,’ said George. ‘Struan better hurry back, eh?’

When the meal was over and the washing-up done, Lindy disappeared to get ready while Myra occupied herself putting the finishing touches to the living room. A chenille cloth, not seen since Christmas, was spread over the kitchen table, and a small vase of artificial flowers placed in the centre. The cushions on the sofa were plumped up, a final brush was given to the hearth by the stove, and all newspapers and magazines were tidied away. Even a comb was run through George’s hair by his wife’s nimble fingers, which made Struan burst out laughing.

‘Don’t tell me Dad needs tidying as well?’ he cried. ‘How about me? How about you, Aunt Myra?’

‘You’re all right,’ she said grudgingly, ‘but I’m going to put on my good dress, like I do every Sunday – nothing special there. As for Lindy, I needn’t worry about her.’

‘Too right,’ said Struan. ‘Here she comes, dressed to kill, eh?’

‘Oh, what rubbish!’ said Lindy, appearing from her bedroom and laughing. ‘I’ve only changed into a twinset and tweed skirt.’

‘Look grand, anyway,’ Struan told her seriously. ‘Though what the minister would say to you wearing lipstick on a Sunday I’m sure I don’t know.’

‘As though you know anything at all about the minister!’ Lindy retorted. ‘We’re no’ kirkgoers, are we?’

But it was true – she did look lovely in the dark red twinset that seemed to enhance the freshness of her complexion and her black hair, while her deep blue eyes shone with particular brilliance as they moved to check the clock.

‘It’s nearly two, I’ll see if Rod’s there,’ she said quickly and hurried towards the door.

He had just that moment come into the hallway of number nineteen through the outer door that was only locked at night and, for a moment, both he and Lindy stood still, poised to greet each other but not actually moving. Then they moved closer, smiles lighting up their faces.

‘Lindy!’ cried Rod.

‘Rod!’ Her eyes went to a wrapped bunch of chrysanthemums in his arms. ‘Why, what have you got there?’

He glanced down at the flowers and gave an embarrassed smile. ‘These are for your stepmother. I’ll be seeing her, won’t I?’

‘Oh, yes, if you’d like to come in while I get my hat and coat.’

‘Think it’s all right to give her flowers? I mean, not too obvious?’

‘All right? Rod, it’s a lovely thought – she’ll be thrilled. I don’t know when anybody I know ever had any flowers!’

‘You shall have some, then. Yes, why not? I’d like to give you flowers, Lindy.’

‘No, no, I don’t need any. But, come on in to meet the folks, then. Even Struan’s here at the minute.’

Rod, looking apprehensive, followed Lindy into the living room of the flat, where three expectant faces were turned towards him. Even Gingerboy suddenly appeared and fixed him with a yellow stare.

‘This is Roderick Connor, everybody, always known as Rod,’ Lindy announced. ‘Rod, this is my dad, Aunt Myra you’ve met, and Struan, my brother.’

‘How d’you do?’ said Rod, standing with the flowers in his hand, half-wishing he’d never brought them, except that Myra’s green eyes were already homing in on them and her lips were parting in a smile.

‘Very pleased to meet you,’ George said, rising from his chair, but even before he could put out his hand Myra had moved smoothly forward towards Rod.

‘Nice to see you again, Mr Connor,’ she murmured, her eyes still on his flowers, and laughed. ‘Even if it’s no’ in Murchie’s, eh?’

‘Please call me Rod,’ he said quickly, and placed his flowers in her arms. ‘Er, these are for you.’

‘For me?’ She flushed. ‘How lovely! I’ll just get a vase—’

‘I’ll get one!’ cried Lindy. ‘That big jug in the scullery, Aunt Myra?’

‘Grand, put some water in, then. But Mr Connor – Rod – you’d no need to go giving me flowers. No’ that I’m complaining!’

‘Should think not!’ cried Struan, leaning forward to shake Rod’s hand. ‘We’ve only had artificial flowers in here up till now. Nice to meet you, Rod. Me and Dad work at Bayne’s, the brewery. Hear you’re with the council, then?’

‘That’s right,’ answered Rod, looking for Lindy and relaxing when she reappeared with a large earthenware jug, smiling at him as though to say, ‘don’t worry, we’ll soon be on our own’.

Aloud, she told Myra she’d leave her to arrange the flowers, as she and Rod wanted to get off for their outing.

‘Going walking?’ asked George kindly. ‘Nice day for it.’

‘Or climbing?’ asked Struan. ‘Didn’t you go up Arthur’s Seat when you first met?’

‘I’ve got the car today,’ Rod said reluctantly. ‘Thought we might go for a drive.’

‘Car?’ Struan repeated, staring. ‘Never knew you had one. What sort?’

‘Morris Eight.’ Rod smiled. ‘Not very big.’

‘Big enough! My God, I’d go out in a dodgem car from the fair if I had one!’

‘Struan, Struan, this is Sunday, remember!’ cried Myra, looking scandalized. ‘George, tell your son to stop taking the Lord’s name in vain.’

‘Aye, Struan, that’s no way to talk on a Sunday,’ George said. ‘We may no’ be kirkgoers, but we expect better than that.’

‘Whatever will Rod think?’ asked Myra, glancing at him, but he was again looking at Lindy, who had put on her coat and was adjusting her hat at the kitchen mirror.

‘All set!’ she called. ‘Rod, let’s away.’

‘When do you think you’ll be back?’ asked Myra.

‘Oh, we won’t be late,’ Rod assured her earnestly. ‘It gets dark fairly early nowadays.’

‘You’ll be very welcome for a cup of tea, you know.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Gillan, that’s very kind, but I – well, I’ve brought a bit of a picnic.’

‘A picnic? Oh, Rod, that’ll be lovely!’ cried Lindy as her family stared in astonishment. A man putting up a picnic? Who’d ever heard of such a thing?

‘Fancy you doing that!’ Myra exclaimed. ‘You’d never catch Struan doing anything of that sort.’

‘Hey, I could cut a sandwich, all right, if I wanted.’ Struan grinned. ‘But I’d get a lassie to do it for me, eh?’

‘And when did we ever have a picnic, anyway?’ asked George. ‘Just hope it’s no’ too cold for you two.’

‘Don’t forget, they’ve got the car,’ said Struan.

After an awkward little pause, Rod cleared his throat. ‘It was very nice to meet you, Mrs Gillan and Mr Gillan – and you, Struan.’

‘And Gingerboy,’ Struan returned. ‘Don’t forget the cat. Listen, can I come out to see the car?’

‘No,’ Lindy said firmly. ‘If you do that we’ll be stuck for ever in Scott Street while you and Rod talk cars. Come on, Rod.’

But Rod was hesitating. ‘Look, it won’t take a minute to show Struan the car – it’s just outside, parked at the kerb.’

‘Lead me to it!’ cried Struan, grinning at Lindy, who was shrugging. ‘Don’t often get the chance to see a private car of any sort.’

‘Can you drive?’ asked Rod, as the three young people left number nineteen. ‘You might like a spin out some time.’

‘’Course I can drive! I’ve driven the brewery vans often enough. Do you mean it, Rod? I’ll take you up on the offer any time.’

‘Sure, I mean it.’ Rod’s voice was suddenly soft with pride as he took out his keys and opened the door of the blunt-nosed little blue car standing at the kerb. ‘And here’s the car itself. Not very big, as I told you, but it seats four, with a good boot for luggage, and it’s in terrific condition. Got it second hand, but it’s never been any trouble – had no big bills—’