Face the Wind and Fly (14 page)

‘No thanks.’ He pushed the glass away. ‘Thanks anyway. So. Tell me more.’

‘It doesn’t just need clearing, it needs a lot of planning and organising too. It needs expertise.’ She outlined her thoughts.

‘Ambitious.’

‘Yes, but something great, at the heart of this community.’ She looked squarely at him and issued a direct challenge. ‘Are you up for it? Or is it too difficult a project for you?’

It was a trick question, of course. She expected either a speedy denial (and therefore, by implication, acceptance of the role), or a simple refusal to rise to the bait (‘Thanks for thinking of me, but I really don’t have time’).

Ibsen saw through it immediately. He laughed. ‘You’re being manipulative again.’

‘How?’

‘I suspect you’re trying to buy off my opposition to the wind farm. It won’t work. I’ll always hate that.’

‘You’re wrong. Ibsen, I know some people will always hate wind farms and I’m sorry you’re one of them. I happen to believe in them myself, but surely we can accept we’re on different sides over that, but still work together on the garden? That’s all I’m asking.’

‘You don’t expect me to stop campaigning against the Summerfield project?’

She shook her head. ‘Only if I can find a way of persuading you otherwise. But this project needs you. You have expertise and I suspect you’d work well with young people and volunteers.’

‘You don’t know me very well. I can get very irritated with idiots and I suspect managing volunteers would require a lot of patience. I might seem sociable, but at heart, I’m quite a solitary person.’

That came as a surprise – she hadn’t seen him that way. ‘You don’t have to be there all the time. There’ll be other helpers. At least say you’ll do the overall planning.’

Melanie appeared, her glass empty. Ten minutes were up and her reappearance was prompt. She’d been timing it.

‘I thought this evening was about me,’ she said truculently. ‘Not her.’

‘Be with you in a few minutes, love.’ He turned back to Kate. ‘It sounds like a lot of work. There’s no cash involved, I take it.’

‘All voluntary – but I’m sure you’ll find it’ll be very rewarding.’

‘Christ, Ibsen,’ Melanie interrupted, ‘What’s this all about? You’ve got enough work without doin’ more for free.’

He put an arm round her waist and pulled her close, which shut her up for a moment. Ibsen’s blue eyes met Kate’s black ones. He said, ‘You’re very persuasive.’

This time Kate did slip off her stool with finality. ‘That’s part of my job. I take it that’s an agreement. Thank you Ibsen. You won’t regret it.’

She held out her hand to shake farewell but he released Melanie and took her by each shoulder, kissing first one cheek, then the other. All the breath seemed to leave Kate’s body.

‘It’s on one condition,’ Ibsen said, grinning.

‘Yes?’ she gasped, trying to breathe again.

‘That you are one of the volunteers.’

‘Gardening? Me?’

The amused glint was back in his eye.

‘It’s a non-negotiable condition.’

‘Well, what can I say then? Thanks for the drink. Bye Melanie, nice meeting you.’

Seeing that she was finally leaving, Melanie allowed herself to relax.

She had a pretty face when she smiled.

Chapter Fifteen

Kate and Ninian arrived at the Malmaison Hotel at exactly the same moment as Harry and Jane. It was an evening of rare beauty. There was no breeze to ruffle the surface of the Water of Leith, which flowed past the hotel into the nearby docks, and the sun was still high enough in the sky to spread a golden glow over the steel tables set outside.

‘This is lucky!’ Kate called, smiling.

Harry was in an expansive mood. ‘There’s a table, look, in the sun. Let’s have champagne, will we? On me.’

He was thirty-eight: still a year older than Kate. For years, though, she had thought of him as middle aged, possibly because there had always been something a bit pompous about him. Jane had changed everything – he looked younger these days, more relaxed, much happier. She had a sureness of touch that Kate couldn’t help but admire. She took trouble with her appearance, but the results were always pleasingly understated. She thought of Melanie, Ibsen Brown’s girlfriend, who was equally pretty, maybe more striking. Jane, wearing a graceful flowing silk crepe dress in tones of gray and dark purple, looked subtle and sophisticated. Mel’s dress had clearly been chosen to emphasise her best features – long legs and a great figure – but in revealing them too much, all sense of mystery had been lost. Jane was like a gift that was intended to be carefully unwrapped, but in private, while Melanie’s message smacked of desperation. In a flash of insight, Kate understood – Melanie feared Ibsen wouldn’t notice her. Her lips tightened. Poor girl.

Ninian said, ‘Shouldn’t Dad be here by now?’

Kate checked her watch. They’d agreed seven o’clock but already it was a quarter past and the table was booked for seven thirty. ‘He must have been held up somewhere. I’ll call him.’

She dialled his mobile, but it was switched off. ‘Tch! He must be driving.’

‘What are we going to do, Mum? Told you this was a crap idea.’

‘It’s not a crap idea, Ninian.’ Kate had an unexpected ally in Harry, who turned to Jane. ‘We’re looking forward to it, aren’t we, darling?’

‘Maybe he’ll just head home, knowing he’s late,’ Ninian contributed. ‘Then we’ll be stuck here, and he’ll be stuck at home, alone.’

‘Oh surely he won’t?’ The possibility hadn't occurred to Kate, but as she spoke, her mobile rang. ‘It’s Dad,’ she said, relieved. ‘Hello? Where are you? ... No – no, don’t do that. ... Well because—’ she hesitated, looked round the silent faces turned in her direction, and grimaced. She’d have to come clean. ‘We’re all here. ... Why? Because I’d planned a surprise. I’ve booked a table for us all, we’re not eating at home.’

She covered the phone with her hand and hissed, ‘He’s heading for home.’

‘Think we got that, Mum,’ Ninian growled.

‘Well, you’ll just have to turn around and come back here. ... As soon as you can. How long will you be?’ She covered the phone again and whispered, ‘He’s going to be another half hour. What’ll I do?’

Harry said, ‘Just tell him we’ll see him at Martin Wishart’s.’

She made an exasperated face, but bowed to the inevitable. ‘We’re eating at Martin Wishart’s. We’ll just head there now and get settled. Join us just as soon as you can, love. Yes. Yes. Okay. Bye.’

‘Some surprise.’

‘Stop moaning, Ninian,’ Harry said, ‘These things happen. Let’s go. Dad’ll be with us by the time we’ve got our first drink lined up.’

Martin Wishart’s was a five-minute walk from the Malmaison. This part of town was filled with graphic design firms and television production companies, event management outfits and marketing consultancies – a generally young working population. Over the past decade business had responded to demand and it had become trendy, with good restaurants and popular wine bars. Martin Wishart’s, where they were headed, was one of Edinburgh’s Michelin-starred establishments.

Kate, her senses sharpened by anxiety, saw Harry expand as he stepped in the door. She smiled, recognising the reason. The place reflected his image of himself – comfortably off and absolutely at home in such surroundings. Ninian’s shoulders, she noted with apprehension, were lifted and his head was down. The old self-consciousness was back. This restaurant was too formal, too quiet, too adult for Ninian. She should have considered that before booking – perhaps if he’d talked to her instead of ducking the issue, they might have settled on a compromise location. Impossible to please all her family, she should just be glad he’d come. Hopefully, he’d be happy when the food arrived.

‘Well. Here we are,’ she said with forced brightness as the waiter took her jacket and pulled out a chair. She sank into it. From here she could see the road outside. Harry and Jane slid round the far side, while Ninian slithered down beside her, leaving a space for Andrew at the head of the table.

‘We’ve set a date for the wedding,’ Harry said, picking up the menu.

‘Really? Fantastic. When is it to be?’

It was Jane’s moment and she stepped happily into the light. ‘Next April. We’ve booked St Andrew’s in Hailesbank and the reception at Fleming House. They’ve got a fabulous ballroom there, Sir Andrew showed us round, they’ve been upgrading the—’

Kate smiled and nodded and was genuinely interested, but at the same time she was wondering how long Andrew would be and whether this dinner had been a good idea at all or not. Ninian was fidgeting with the menu and his expression made his view of the forthcoming wedding absolutely clear. A car drew up on the far side of the road. Andrew’s, surely? She saw his profile clearly as he parked, neatly, then turned off the ignition. She was about to say, ‘He’s here!’ but closed her mouth, puzzled. Why wasn’t he getting out?

There was another figure in the car. She glimpsed pink and purple, a long white neck and a pale profile. Kate’s hand flew up to her chest and she forgot that breathing was essential to existence. Andrew leaned away from her. It looked as if he was kissing the woman, who climbed out, flagged a taxi, hopped in and disappeared before Kate could properly identify her. Andrew emerged, clicked his key fob and she saw the sidelights on his car flash orange as the car locked. He stood for a minute, looking up at the sign above the restaurant as though to check he was in the right place, then walked briskly towards the door.

Kate swallowed.

She couldn’t be certain, but she was pretty sure that the woman had been Jane’s young cousin, Sophie MacAteer.

Ninian had seen it too. He turned his head and looked at her, his expression a complex mixture of panic, disgust, alarm and hatred. Quickly, Kate got a grip of her own feelings. She was not going to let this evening be spoilt by this. Her worst nightmare might be coming true, but her strategy was in place.
Keep the family together, remind him of what he has to lose.
Whatever happened because of this, it had to be later, and in private.

‘It’s not what you think, Ninian,’ she said softly, briskly dismissive of the hurt in her heart. ‘Go and meet Dad, please, show him where we’re sitting. ’

For a few seconds Ninian held her gaze, his dark eyes, so like Andrew’s own, a blaze of fury. Despite her best efforts, her mouth trembled and for a horrified moment she thought she might cry. Just as she was about to plead with him, Ninian pushed back his chair. ‘I’ll fetch him,’ he said, his voice raw.

Kate’s instinct was to sink her head in her hands, but she had to hold it high, put a smile on her face, pretend that everything was fine. The evidence suggested that Andrew had betrayed her, and in the most outrageous way possible, but this was not the place for a showdown. Her mouth felt dry and she tried to swallow. A muscle in her cheek vibrated and she put a hand up to cover the telltale tic.

‘Surprise!’ Jane called cheerfully as Andrew strode towards them. ‘Not. Anyway, happy birthday, Andrew.’

‘Hello everyone, so sorry I’m late. Traffic. I thought I’d head straight for home, but it seems I was outmanoeuvered.’ He said it with a smile so relaxed that Kate wondered if he had been practising it. In the car, perhaps. With Sophie?
Is this right? A little wider?
Did she say,
Think of me when you smile.
Or perhaps he didn’t need to be told to do that. She looked at the smile again. Was it the smile of a cat with a bowl of cream? She imagined him lapping and licking and her growing tension triggered a surge of nausea. She inhaled sharply. She had to control her fears.

‘Hi Dad.  Happy Birthday.’

The greetings were effusive, gifts were exchanged, champagne was sipped, toasts made. To all outward appearances, Kate was as bright as anyone. Only Ninian was sombre and uncommunicative, but whatever he was thinking or feeling, it didn’t seem to affect his appetite.

Kate’s own hunger, by contrast, had disappeared almost completely. She toyed with the delicious food, but drank more than normal. She asked herself a hundred different questions in an effort to circumvent the one, inevitable conclusion. Why had Sophie been in the car with him? Surely he hadn’t taken her to Pluscarden Abbey? It was unthinkable. Had he even gone to the Abbey? Had his phone been switched off because he was in bed with
her
in some hotel room? Had he – appalling thought –
meant
her to see Sophie? Why else drop her off right in front of the restaurant? If he had meant her to see the girl, what was his intention?

So many unanswered questions. So many questions Andrew would have to answer – but later.

Ninian was silent in the car home – they were all silent – but as soon as they get through the door, he said ‘
Mum
,’ in a low, urgent voice.

Andrew was putting the car in the garage and they had perhaps thirty seconds. She laid a hand on his arm. ‘I’ll deal with this, Ninian. It’s all right.’

‘But there’s something you need to know.’

‘There’s nothing to worry about. Go to bed. We’ll talk tomorrow.’

‘I saw—’

‘Ninian, I will talk to your father.’

He swung round and glared angrily at her. ‘No. Listen. I saw them snogging.’

‘What?’

‘Dad and Sophie. At Harry’s engagement party. Why do you think I threw up?’

‘Too much drink,’ Kate said, but her eyes were wide with shock.

 ‘Give me a break. And after the book launch, he went to dinner with her. Alone.’

Andrew was inside the front door now. He was locking it. In a second he would be in the kitchen. ‘Go to bed,’ Kate said quickly. ‘Everything will be all right, I promise.’

It was not fair. Whatever Andrew was up to, it should not impact on Ninian. The anger Kate had been struggling to control all evening was so near the surface that she was frightened. To hide it, she reached forward and hugged her son. For a second there was resistance, then he hugged her back and she sensed his need for reassurance. When he shot out of the door, he narrowly avoided Andrew, who was coming in.

‘Whoa there! What’s the hurry?’

Ninian mumbled something unintelligible and raced up the stairs. Kate heard his door slam shut. She closed the kitchen door, then braced herself against its cool surface and turned to face her husband. She noticed little change from the Andrew he’d been when they’d met. A few gray hairs, some more lines on his face, but he still wore his quiet assuredness like a velvet jacket, softly. He still had – she supposed – the sensitivity and awareness that made him such a good writer. Why, then, was he being so profoundly insensitive to
her
feelings? And to their son’s?

‘What’s up with Ninian?’

‘I think you know.’

‘Know? Know what?’

‘Ninian is convinced you’re having an affair with Sophie MacAteer.’

‘Soph— who? Oh, you mean that cousin of Jane’s? The musician?’ His tone was offhand, as though Sophie was of no consequence at all – but then, why pretend he didn’t know who she meant?

‘Come on, Andrew. I’d appreciate it if you would tell me what in hell’s name you were playing at.’

He looked startled at the barely-controlled acrimony in her tone. ‘I’m sorry I was late, Kate. If you’d told me your plans in the first place, it would have been easier.’

His strategy infuriated her. ‘Oh no, don’t you turn your failings back on me.’

‘I made a huge effort to change my arrangements and get back as you’d requested.’

‘You didn’t need to go to Pluscarden on your birthday at all! You could easily have put it off for a week. Or wouldn’t that have fitted in with Sophie’s plans?’

‘Sophie? What is all this about Sophie, for goodness’ sake? What has Ninian been saying?’

‘He saw you snogging at Harry’s party.’

Andrew laughed, the sound so natural it was hard to believe he was play-acting. ‘Ninian’s like me, darling. He has a vivid imagination.’

‘He was so shocked he threw up.’ The scene came flooding back to her. She’d been so concerned with dealing with the Abercrombie Club’s plush carpet, and so embarrassed about her young son’s state of inebriation, that she’d forgotten what had happened next. Now, though, she saw it all again with perfect clarity. ‘You were out on the balcony,’ she said accusingly. ‘You and Sophie. You came rushing in when he was sick. I remember now.’

‘I’d been talking to her on the balcony, yes,’ Andrew said defensively.

‘So Ninian’s not lying.’

‘I was
talking
to her, that’s all.’

‘Ninian said you were kissing her.’

‘I might,’ he said, ‘have given her a cuddle and a peck on the cheek. Her boyfriend had just left her and she was in floods of tears.’

‘We’re getting nearer the truth, I think.’ Kate abandoned the security of the door and marched right across to where Andrew was standing. Her hands were on her hips and her head tilted up towards his, fury taking over from hurt.

‘He’s imagining things.’

‘Really? What about tonight? I saw her. She was in the car with you.’ Kate realised her impression had been right. ‘Don’t tell me I’m imagining things too. What the hell was that about? Taking your mistress away with you is bad enough, but flaunting her in front of me is just—’ she stopped abruptly, unable to find a word that adequately conveyed the depth of her anger.

‘Mistress? What on earth...?’ He turned towards the back door. ‘If you’re going to be like this, I’m going to go out for a walk.’