Dreams to Sell (31 page)

But Flo was already embracing the tall, silent figure, hugging Dougal tightly and smiling radiantly, not seeing what Roz had seen.

‘Dougal, son, how are you?' she was crying. ‘Oh, it's so grand to see you, it's the day we've been waiting for! I've brought you some shortbread and the ginger cakes you like – they had 'em in the baker's today. I ran out and got 'em first thing—'

‘Very kind,' he said quietly. ‘Very thoughtful.'

She held him at arm's length, studying his face.

‘Are you glad to see us, Dougal? Look, here's Roz – and Chrissie will be coming tomorrow. We're that happy to see you after so long. Such a long, long time. You feel the same, eh, seeing us?'

‘Yes, of course I do. I've been looking forward to it.'

Flo glanced at Roz, her eyes shining, as though to say, you see, he's not depressed, whatever the doctor thinks! But Roz was pulling forward two chairs she'd found and not answering the look. Soon enough, her mother would realize that the Dougal she was so glad to see again was not the Dougal who had left them to go to Korea. Soon enough she would realize what they were up against.

‘How are you feeling, now you're back?' she asked Dougal herself. ‘A big relief, eh?'

‘I don't feel much at all,' he said after a pause.

‘But you must be glad to be here. I mean, they're going to get you better.'

‘Roz!' cried Flo. ‘Don't talk in that way!'

‘We've had a talk with Colonel Marsh,' Roz said evenly. ‘He told us you were very well thought of as a soldier, Dougal, but things got difficult for you, didn't they?'

He turned his expressionless gaze on her. ‘They said I was too slow. Everything was slow. It was like – being weighted down.'

‘Oh, Dougal!' sighed Flo. ‘Why should that have happened? You were always so quick!'

‘I didn't want it to happen.'

‘Of course you didn't!'

‘But then I got to thinking, maybe it's a punishment, eh?'

‘A punishment?' cried Roz. ‘Why ever should you be punished, Dougal?'

‘For being alive,' he said simply. ‘They went, you see. My pals. I saw 'em go. I couldn't save 'em. Well, one was saved, but not by me. He got taken away – we never saw him again. But Roddie and Tiger – we used to call him Tiger, he was that fierce, always the daredevil, risking his neck – well, they died. Not the only ones, either.' Dougal heaved a deep sigh. ‘I don't know why I was left.'

‘There'd be others left,' Roz told him, holding his hand. ‘You wouldn't be the only one, eh? You were in a battle, it was only to be expected some wouldn't survive.'

‘Like your dad,' said Flo. ‘But you were all right, Dougal. You were saved. It was a miracle.'

‘Ma, there are no miracles!' he suddenly shouted, his face turning red. ‘No miracles, I say! Look, I don't want to talk any more. Just don't talk any more.'

He left his chair and flung himself on to his bed, turning his face away, leaving Flo to look into Roz's eyes and let her see at last that she understood. Oh, yes, too well, so that her lip trembled and the tears gathered, though she did not let them fall. Not in front of Dougal, even if his face was turned away.

Into the silence, they heard clicking footsteps and then the door opened and a voice called brightly, ‘Mrs Rainey? You've found him, then?'

And a military nurse, rather plain of face, but very friendly in manner, came hurrying in, hand outstretched in greeting.

‘Hello, there! I'm Joan MacEwan, the QA who's looking after Dougal. Looks like he's feeling tired again – comes over him, you know. But someone's bringing him tea and that'll wake him up. Maybe you'd like to go for a cuppa yourselves? We have a very good canteen.'

‘Thanks, I think we would,' said Roz, introducing herself. ‘I think Dougal has talked enough for today.'

‘I want to say goodbye,' said Flo, dabbing her eyes. ‘He'll want me to say goodbye.'

When she bent to kiss his cheek he sat up, resting against his pillow, and gazed at her without smiling.

‘Goodbye, Ma, goodbye, Roz. Thank you for coming.'

‘We'll come again soon,' promised Flo. ‘And Chrissie will be coming tomorrow.'

‘And the MacGarry boys are keen to see you, too,' added Roz, but Dougal showed no interest in the MacGarry boys and, after a long moment, Roz and Flo quietly left him, the Queen Alexandra's nurse following.

‘I'm sorry if you found Dougal not much like himself,' she said seriously, her dark brown eyes very sympathetic. ‘But it's early days, you understand. He will improve, now he's home. We all feel that.'

‘Thank you,' said Roz. ‘You're very kind.'

‘Very kind,' Flo agreed.

‘Not at all,' said Joan. ‘Dougal is a fine young man. We all want to see him better. Now, shall I tell you how to find the canteen?'

In the canteen, which was full of smoke, it being the only place in the hospital where smoking was permitted, Flo and Roz chose tea and rock buns
.

‘Safer than the scones,' Roz murmured. ‘At least, they're meant to be like rocks.'

Flo lit a cigarette without speaking, but Roz, knowing her so well, was relieved that, though her mother was certainly unhappy, she did not appear to be actually depressed. Perhaps seeing Dougal had given her a strange strength to try to keep well for his sake, to do what she could to help.

‘It's worrying, Ma,' Roz said as they drank their tea. ‘I mean, seeing Dougal as he is, but I'm sure he'll come through. It'll take time, but the colonel's good. I think we can trust him to get Dougal better.'

‘Can only hope.' Flo sighed. ‘But it's terrible, eh, to think of what he's seen, poor lad. Makes me wonder what sights your dad had to face before he died.'

‘That's war, Ma. Dougal's done well to keep going as long as he did.'

‘That reminds me …' Flo opened her bag and took out the letter the colonel had given her. ‘Let's see what the officer had to say about our Dougal.'

As Roz crumbled her rock bun and waited, Flo's eyes rapidly scanned the letter, then laid it down, her face brightening.

‘Roz, read it! It's so nice – says what a grand soldier Dougal was, how proud they were of him, and that what's happened to him could happen to anyone. Wasn't it kind of the officer to write to me like that? To make me feel better?'

‘You're right, it's a grand letter,' Roz said softly, replacing it in its envelope. ‘I never thought commanding officers could be so understanding.'

‘Just shows, eh? You can never tell how folk'll be?' Flo ground out her cigarette and stood up.

‘Aren't you going to finish your rock bun?' asked Roz.

‘No, let's go for the bus, eh? I'd like to get home.'

Better though they both felt after the commanding officer's letter, as they made their way to the bus stop they found their hearts were heavy again. It was the thought of having to leave Dougal back in the hospital in the way they'd seen him, looking into the abyss, unable to take comfort as yet from them or anyone. How long would it be before he was better?

When the bus finally came and they were on their way back from Glasgow, neither could find any more to say.

How long would it be before Dougal was better? As the year moved slowly on, from February to March and then to April, nothing in the situation seemed to change, though Colonel Marsh seemed hopeful that the breakthrough would soon come.

Meanwhile, everyone visited him – his family, his friends – mainly at the weekends, which the hospital preferred. Everyone tried to talk to him, make him return to their world, but he seemed to want to stay outside it, and even though he was encouraged to take exercise to keep himself fit and so always looked well, he was still far away from the Dougal they'd known.

At times, the load he put upon those who cared for him seemed too much, though they did not complain. Chrissie, for instance, had declared that she and Bob would not marry until Dougal was well enough to attend the wedding, and as the weeks went by, there seemed little hope of arranging a date when he had made so little progress.

‘I don't mind, I understand,' Chrissie told Roz. ‘But it's hard, eh? I mean, for all of us.'

‘I suppose we could still make our dresses,' said Roz. ‘I'm booked to be bridesmaid for Norma in September and I was thinking I could use the same outfit. If you don't mind?'

‘Mind? I don't care what anyone wears, just as long as there's a wedding sometime!'

‘It'll come, Chrissie, try not to worry. People do recover from this battle fatigue and the colonel is sure Dougal will.' Roz paused. ‘Don't like to say, but we've been lucky so far that Ma's been all right. Things could have been a lot worse.'

‘Oh, you're right!' Chrissie agreed. ‘We'll just keep going, then, and hope for the best.'

‘That's the spirit!' said Roz, putting on a cheerfulness she didn't feel, for she could see no light appearing yet at the end of the tunnel. Even work, which had always been her saviour in the past, seemed no longer to help. She got on well with Angus, and worked as hard as she'd ever done, yet she knew her heart wasn't in what she was doing as it had once been, and that this was perhaps due to the parting from Lawrence Carmichael. It was not Lawrence himself she was missing, but the pleasure she had taken in his house, a house that had brought her closer than any other to the realization of her dreams. Try as she might, she could not bring back her own enthusiasm for houses, and one day was taken aback to find that Angus had noticed it.

‘Roz, mind if I have a word?' he asked one day in late April when they were having their morning coffee.

‘Please, do.' She looked at his pleasant, plump face that always filled clients with such confidence. ‘Haven't blotted my copy book, have I?'

‘No, no, quite the reverse. It's just that … well, I don't know if it's because you're worrying over your poor brother – God knows you've every right to – or whether things have just gone a bit stale for you. I mean, with the job.'

‘Stale?' She set down her cup. ‘You mean, I don't care about my work?'

‘Oh, I wouldn't go so far as to say that. I'm sure you care. But it seems not to make you happy any more – am I right?'

She was silent, thinking over his words. ‘Maybe,' she said at last. ‘The point is, I just don't know what to do about it.'

‘I hate to suggest this, because it's the last thing I'd want, but would a new job be the answer?'

She gave a hopeless little shrug. ‘Such as what? I can't think of anything.'

Angus sipped his coffee and helped himself to another digestive biscuit. ‘Naughty, naughty,' he said to himself, smiling. ‘Roz, you ought to slap my hand when you see it hovering over the biscuit tin.'

‘Oh, Angus, stop worrying about your weight! You're just right the way you are.'

‘So you slim folk say.' He shook his head. ‘But we haven't come up with anything to cheer you yet, have we? I have the feeling it may just be that you have a lot on your mind at present, and when your brother gets better, so will you. I mean, you'll get your old feelings back for the property market.'

‘I hope you're right. It's all I know.'

‘Well, here's an idea – how would you like to try your hand now and again at what I do? I'm talking about writing property descriptions.'

Her eyes widened. ‘Write the descriptions? You mean it, Angus? Why, I'd certainly love to have a go. If you're sure? Mr Banks might not approve.'

‘He needn't know. And say what you like, Roz, you are a natural as an estate agent. If you were working in England you'd be doing my job already, no question.'

‘Well, it's very kind of you to think of me, Angus. I do appreciate it.'

‘Say no more. Just put the lid on the biscuit tin, eh?'

Walking fast home from the tram that evening, Roz was feeling decidedly better. Whether trying her hand at Angus's work would give her back her enthusiasm for houses she still couldn't be sure, but it was something different and she was indeed grateful to him for thinking of her. People were kind, and there were good things in life, in spite of what poor Dougal thought. If only she could get that through to him …

But just the last time she'd visited, when they'd walked in the hospital grounds and looked at the fresh green of the trees and the new buds on the shrubs, he'd taken no pleasure in the renewal of nature, declaring it was all a waste of time, that life bloomed only to end in death, and what was the point of anything? She had talked and talked, but had seen by the closed look on his face that he wasn't listening, and had finally said no more. All that could be done was to wait till he was better. Surely that must come soon?

‘Hello, there!' a voice called to her as she reached the door of the flats, and the next moment Evan was at her side.

‘Heavens above, do you have to walk so fast?' he asked, smiling and gasping. ‘I was on the top deck of the tram when I saw you get off ahead of me and, look, I've only just caught you!'

‘Don't tell me you need to get fit, Evan!'

‘Think I'd better book in at a gym? No, it's you who's just too speedy.'

Taking out his key, he opened the door, motioning her in before him, his eyes studying her at the foot of the stairs.

‘You're looking well, Roz. Has there been good news about Dougal?'

‘Not so far, I'm afraid. He's no different from when you saw him – at the weekend, wasn't it?'

‘There'll be a change soon – bound to be. I can feel it.'

As she began to climb the stairs, he put a hand for a moment on her arm.

‘Roz, I was wondering …' He was hesitant, his voice low. ‘Would you care to come to the pictures with me one evening? Just as company for an old friend?'