Forgive Me (33 page)

‘OK,’ she said warily. ‘My
lips are sealed.’

‘He has a finger in every pie in
town.’ Grace sniggered. ‘God only knows what he has found out about me over
the years!’

Gregor ignored that remark. ‘Guess
what I’ve discovered?’

‘Flora had antenatal
appointments?’ Eva said.

‘No, that’s just it. There is no
mention on her file of pregnancy.’

‘As I told Gregor earlier, that
doesn’t mean much,’ Grace said. ‘She was a hippy chick, she probably
thought it was all so natural she didn’t need to.’

‘But she’d lost a baby
before,’ Eva said. ‘Would any woman who’d been through that take any
chances with the next one?’

‘That’s what I thought,’
Gregor said. ‘She got Valium for depression on her first visit, a high dosage. She
saw the doc again for a repeat prescription, and also sleeping tablets, but nothing more
until January 1970, when she went back for more Valium again. But there was nothing
about pregnancy.’

‘If she was having a prominent and
influential man’s baby, he might have paid for her to go private to keep it
hush-hush,’ Phil suggested.

‘That’s possible,’ Gregor
said thoughtfully. ‘But I can’t imagine Flora doing that, she wasn’t
the type. She was a
socialist through and through, didn’t
approve of private schools or private doctors and dentists. And surely she
shouldn’t have been taking antidepressants during pregnancy?’

‘Did people think of that kind of
thing then?’ Eva asked. ‘Women used to smoke and drink and no one thought
anything of it, so I doubt they worried about antidepressants either.’

‘But she would have been booked into a
hospital for the birth,’ Gregor said. ‘Do you know where you were born,
Eva?’

‘Only that it was in London. Mum never
said which hospital, or anything about it.’

‘That’s odd,’ Grace said.
‘Women usually talk about their birth experiences, both to their friends and their
children. I mean, it’s one of the biggest events in any woman’s life. My
boys aren’t interested but on their birthdays I usually say something, even if
it’s just that I couldn’t believe how beautiful they were.’

‘My mum often talks about it. She had
me at home,’ Phil said. ‘Dad said she was hanging washing on the line the
next day.’

Gregor nodded. ‘Our mother had both
Grace and me at home too. It was me who called the doctor and midwife when Grace started
to come. Mother used to tell Grace how I hung around her crib like a guard
dog.’

‘And how you nearly dropped me on the
stairs!’ Grace added. ‘He was trying to be helpful, bringing me down when I
was crying.’

‘Flora wasn’t one for talking
about things like that.’ Eva felt a bit sad that she’d never been told
little stories about her birth. But given that Flora wasn’t the reminiscing kind,
she wanted to defend her. ‘She did keep a kind of journal of
pictures she drew of me as a baby. It’s beautiful – I wish I’d brought it
with me now to show you. Ben and Sophie were born in the hospital in Cheltenham. I
remember going to see her there with Andrew.’

‘Well, let’s move on to the
other development,’ Gregor said. ‘I read through the part of the diary that
comes after she was here in Pitlochry, where she wrote: “Thought of staying in M
but couldn’t face another hellhole.” I think she’s talking about
Moffat. I remember she said she stayed there on her way here and thought Moffat was
lovely, but the guest house was awful. So I reckon that “C”, the place she
did stay at, was Carlisle. It’s a logical place to stay overnight on the way
south, but there’s more. That photo you left in the diary, Eva, the one of the row
of shops.’

‘It’s in Carlisle?’

‘Yes. I got a magnifying glass on it.
I could just make out the name Huggett above one of the empty shops. There was a
Huggetts which sold harnesses, saddles and other riding paraphernalia in Carlisle. It
closed down years ago, but it was quite well known back in the 1950s and 1960s. My
father used to order things from there.’

‘How great.’ Eva grinned.
‘I fancied going to Carlisle anyway, on the way home. I wonder why she took the
picture? There’s a painting of it back home too.’

‘Maybe she took a photo so she could
paint the scene later,’ Grace said.

‘A funny thing to want to
paint,’ Eva said.

‘I thought that too, Eva.’
Gregor frowned. ‘I only ever saw her drawing or painting beautiful things – views,
gardens, trees. And the castle would be the most obvious place to paint in Carlisle. But
also, why did she end the diary there? Could something have happened to her
there?’

‘I thought it was odd the way the
diary just ended,’ Eva
agreed. ‘I know we all kept diaries
as kids and they just fizzled out, usually by the end of February, but she’d been
keeping hers going for years. Why not carry it on until I was born?’

‘I can’t help but think that row
of shops is a clue,’ Gregor said. ‘Maybe we should take it to Dena and let
her “powers” give us the answer.’

Everyone laughed at that, and it reminded
Eva to tell them about Dena’s surprise visit to the hotel. ‘She was in a
right old state,’ she said, quickly running though the gist of what was said.
‘She maintained Flora killed herself because of something bad that she’d
done. She almost had me convinced.’

There was a little discussion on this, and
both Gregor and Grace felt that Dena was overexcitable and out of touch with
reality.

‘Getting back to Carlisle and why
Flora stopped writing in her diary,’ Phil said, ‘maybe she met her man
there. That could explain it. Perhaps she was just too engrossed in him to
write?’

Gregor and Grace both agreed that was
likely.

‘But she only went to Carlisle because
she’d had a bad experience in Moffat,’ Eva argued. ‘Why mention
another place if you’ve already arranged an assignation?’

‘Ah, now we’re getting to the
bad thing she did,’ Phil said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. ‘Maybe the
man met her there, told her he was dumping her and she killed him and buried him under
the floor in that empty shop. Then she took a photo of the place and later painted it as
a kind of memorial to him.’

Eva was drinking her wine but she laughed
and spluttered it down her chin.

‘Steady on, Eva!’ Grace said.
‘Sherlock’s just cracked the case.’

‘So we can all have our dinner now
then.’ Gregor laughed as he wheeled his chair over to the table. ‘And I
thought it was we Scots who were supposed to be canny!’

‘That was such a good evening,’
Phil said as he and Eva walked back rather unsteadily to the hotel.

There had been no more talk about Flora.
Gregor told them climbing stories, Grace talked about her time in London in her early
twenties, Phil offered up a few hilarious anecdotes about builders, and Eva told them
how Phil had stopped the man who tried to rob her. They had all laughed a great deal and
drunk too much.

‘Gregor is amazing,’ Phil said.
‘I don’t think I’d have much to laugh about if I had to spend the rest
of my life in a wheelchair.’

‘I wish he had turned out to be my
dad,’ Eva said. ‘But then I like Patrick too. Mum had pretty good taste in
men – well, except for Andrew. But I’m not going to talk about that any more, the
rest of this holiday is just going to be fun.’

Phil stopped suddenly, put his arms around
her and kissed her.

It was the best kiss ever. While he’d
taken her by surprise, it was the perfect moment for it. All her nerve endings began
tingling, her pulse raced, and she found herself melting into his arms as if that was
where she belonged.

‘Umm,’ he murmured as they came
up for air. He was still holding her tightly but covering her upturned face with little
kisses. ‘This Scottish air seems to be making my heart beat faster.’

‘Mine too,’ she whispered.
‘I think we might need to lie down in a darkened room.’

‘Together?’ he asked, rubbing
his nose against hers.

‘If you think you could bear
it,’ she said.

‘I’m brave enough to try,’
he said. Then, taking her hand, he began running down the hill, pulling her along, and
he didn’t stop till they got to the hotel.

‘Why the rush?’ she asked as
they slowed down at the steps up to the door.

‘To make sure you don’t have
time to change your mind,’ he said. Putting one hand on either side of her face,
he kissed her again tenderly. ‘You must know I’ve wanted you from the first
day we met. I’m crazy about you, Eva.’

All the past sadness, hurt and anxiety, and
all those years of believing that she was plain and unlovable just faded away at his
words. She knew him, he’d been her friend when she most needed one, had helped
her, supported and encouraged her. She could trust him, she didn’t have a
moment’s fear that he’d wake up in the morning and regret it.

He kept stopping to kiss her all the way up
to her room, red-hot kisses that made her want to pull his shirt out of his jeans and
stroke that brown silky body she’d admired so often when he was plastering.

A middle-aged couple came along the landing
as they got to the second floor, and looked affronted to see young people canoodling on
the stairs. Eva ran the rest of the way to her room giggling.

Everything about the seduction was perfect;
there might not have been candlelight and satin sheets, but every kiss and caress was
beautiful. He took it slowly, undressing her as if he was unwrapping something fragile
and valuable.

‘Your hair smells so good,’ he
murmured into it. ‘You’ve got such a great body too. I want this night to
last for ever.’

It did seem to last for ever, waves of
pleasure which went on and on, gradually reaching a crescendo of white-hot passion. But
Phil showed so much tenderness, and it made Eva cry.

Tod had been an accomplished lover, he knew
all the right buttons to push, but experience was nothing compared to being made love to
by a man whose heart was truly in it. Phil kissed and stroked every inch of her body,
making her moan for more and then plead with him to come inside her. But again and again
he only smiled at her while continuing to pleasure her until she came.

When he finally entered her it was the most
incredible sensation she had ever known. He was big, and he moved her around, on top of
him, to the side, sitting astride him, sitting up and from behind, before finally
getting on top of her again, holding her hips as if he never wanted to let go of her.
The ecstasy went on and on till they both came together.

They were sticky with perspiration, the
sheets were damp and twisted beneath them, but sated at last they clung together as one,
whispering endearments.

Later they straightened out the sheets, then
curled up together. She loved the way he ran his fingers through her hair, his deep,
satisfied sighs. ‘You are like a little deer,’ he whispered. ‘So small
and so pretty.’

For the first time in her life she believed
that she was. All the unkind things girls at school had said to her didn’t matter
any more. All those boys who’d been crude and callous to her were forgotten. And
she wasn’t needy now; she felt she was worth something, and not just because Phil
thought so, but because she felt it inside.

‘You make me feel brand new,’
she whispered in the darkness.

He began to sing the song, out of tune,
words wrong, and she shook with laughter.

‘Fancy laughing at a man serenading
you!’ he said with mock indignation. ‘And I was just going to suggest I made
a cup of tea too.’

He did make tea, and nothing had ever been so
refreshing.

‘Time to sleep now,’ he said,
getting back into bed and pulling her into his arms. ‘I’ve dreamed about
this for so long, I can hardly believe it’s come true.’

They checked out of Brae Bank in the
morning after breakfast, giggling because they were sure some of the residents must have
heard the squeaky bed during the night.

Before they left to drive to Glencoe, Eva
quickly rang Gregor to thank him for dinner and all his help, and said they’d pop
back to pick up Flora’s diary in a few days.

‘I wish you and Phil happiness. You
two are made for each other,’ he said simply.

‘I think you might be right
there,’ she said. ‘Funny that we had to come all this way to discover
it.’

‘Will it still be like this when we
get back to London?’ Phil asked as they drove back to Pitlochry to pick up the
diary they’d left with Gregor. He was driving, but kept reaching out for her
hand.

Eva knew exactly what he meant. They had
been everything to each other in the last few days. The Highlands had been way above
their expectations: they’d marvelled at the huge lochs, the mountains and forests,
walked for miles, made love in secluded places, stared in wonder at superb views, eaten
delicious food, and stayed in cosy guest houses they hadn’t really wanted to
leave. There had been so much laughter, talking and sharing stories about their pasts,
and now Phil was afraid, as she was, that it would disappear when they got back home.

‘I hope so,’ she said. ‘It
will if we want it to be, won’t it?’

He cast a sideways glance at her and sighed.
‘Well, I’ve got the flat with my brother and you’ve got your house.
Won’t that sort of thing get in the way?’

Eva had noticed that Phil was very
conventional in many ways. He might be outrageous in that he wanted to make love
outdoors, or slide his hand under the table to grope her in a busy restaurant, but from
little things he’d said she knew he believed in marriage, being the main
breadwinner and sharing everything. He’d also remarked that he thought too many
couples rushed into living together without any real thought. But now they’d been
together day and night for a few days, and it had been so wonderful. Perhaps he
didn’t want them to have separate lives?

‘It’s too soon to worry about
that,’ she said, squeezing his hand. ‘Besides, by the time we get back to
London we might both feel we want some space.’