Highland Fling (7 page)

Eventually, everyone stopped eating. Although the portions had not been large, eating them seemed to take a long time. No one was tempted to scrape their plates, and no one would have dared to if they had wanted. Jenny wondered if Felicity had been conditioned to make food that people would just pick at and thus not scratch the china. And she wouldn’t have been allowed to heat the plates either. Nor would less precious plates, which could have been warmed a little, be permitted. Lady Dalmain probably considered an enthusiasm for food vulgar.

‘I’ll just go and get the pudding,’ said Felicity, having accepted the plates that Jenny handed her and making a pile.

‘Felicity, how many times do I have to tell you? Take the plates out one by one. Please don’t behave as if we’re in some dreadful canteen.’

‘It’ll take ages like that, Mama,’ said Philip, stacking merrily. ‘I’ll give Fliss a hand.’

Brother and sister bore away the antique china watched anxiously by their mother. Jenny wondered if it all had to be washed in cold spring water and dried, piece by piece, with silk squares, or possibly the hair of a virgin.

Anything would have been preferable to being left in the room with Lady Dalmain. Jenny and Lachlan both tried to speak at the same time.

‘Sorry,’ said Lachlan, ‘you go first.’

‘It’s all right. I was just going to say how lovely the
scenery was on the drive up,’said Jenny, seeking approval again.

‘Yes, we are fortunate to live in a beautiful place.’ Lady Dalmain bowed graciously, then added in a chilly voice, ‘It’s only to be hoped that we will be able to continue to live in it.’

Chapter Four

Jenny swallowed. Lady Dalmain was not supposed to know there was anything wrong with the mill. Now what was she supposed to do? And where was Philip when she needed him?

‘Why wouldn’t you be able to?’ Innocently, Lachlan sprung the trap set for Jenny.

‘Because, although dear Philip has tried to protect me from the knowledge, I’m not entirely stupid, and realise that our business is suffering a little difficulty. It happened once before, in Philip’s father’s time. He mortgaged the house in order to raise money.’ She glowered at Jenny, expecting an explanation.

‘I don’t really know …’ she began, hearing herself sounding horribly like a schoolgirl in front of the head mistress.

‘Oh, I realise that it is not your responsibility, Miss Porter. You obviously work for someone with designs on my house.’

‘I’m sure – I’m sure he’s got nothing like that in mind,’ Jenny said, moderately confident that this was the truth. Her client had given her no indication that he’d gone stark staring mad since she first worked for him. He could not possibly wish to live in this shrine to Caledonian excess. ‘I’m just here for the computers.’ She copped out, remembering the old saying about
living to fight another day. ‘I haven’t heard anything about the house being involved.’

‘All I know,’went on Lady Dalmain, refusing to be pacified, ‘is that the home that my dear husband brought me to, as a bride, is at risk. I am sure you’ll understand if I am a little defensive.’

‘Of course.’ Jenny decided to keep her mouth shut. While she
hadn’t
heard about the house being involved, it was useful to have the hint that it might be.

Felicity came in with another loaded tray. ‘Apple snow,’she announced.

Jenny shivered merely at the name, and waited for Lady Dalmain to declare that her heart was already packed with snow, or something equally poetic and melodramatic. It was a little disappointing that she didn’t.

‘Have you travelled far today, Jenny?’ asked Lachlan, when the apple snow, looking disturbingly like cuckoo spit, had been distributed on tiny, bird-painted saucers.

‘Only a couple of hundred miles. I came up the rest of the way yesterday.’

‘You must be shattered,’said Felicity. ‘All that driving.’

‘I’m sure Miss Porter is a perfectly fit young woman,’said Lady Dalmain. ‘Not everyone gets tired all the time.’

‘Actually, I am quite tired,’said Jenny, who suddenly felt exhausted and saw an opportunity for escape. ‘I wonder if you would excuse me? I have to send an email before I go to bed.’ She felt a traitor to Felicity, but the thought of leaving that poisonous
atmosphere, even if only to retreat to the ice box that was her bedroom, was heavenly.

‘Don’t you want a cup of coffee?’ asked Felicity.

Jenny shook her head. ‘It stops me sleeping.’

‘Camomile tea?’ suggested Philip.

Unable to say she thought it tasted of cat’s pee, Jenny shook her head again. ‘No, really. I must just email my mother. She’ll be worried, it being such a long way from home.’

‘And where is home?’ enquired Lady Dalmain.

‘Guildford,’ said Jenny, not bothering to explain that she didn’t live there herself. She got to her feet, fatigue, tension and depression weighing her down. ‘I am sorry not to help with the washing up or anything, but I will tomorrow, I promise.’

‘Until I know you better, Miss Porter, I’d prefer you not to help,’ said Lady Dalmain. ‘All my china is antique and has to be handled very carefully.’

Not half as carefully as its owner, who’d give a sensitive porcupine a run for its money, thought Jenny, wishing she could say something very rude. She said her good nights, genuinely hoped she’d see Lachlan again, and made her way up to bed.

Upstairs, she brushed her teeth, creamed her face and got into bed, wearing all her clothes, to warm up her bed before facing it in her pyjamas. She pulled the laptop on to her knee and signed on. She was still cross with Henry and certainly wasn’t going to tell him how awful it all was, and her mother would be surprised to hear from her again so soon. Never mind.

It’s so cold I think I might get hypothermia in the night. Could you please send a hot-water bottle as
well as an electric blanket? I don’t think they’ve heard of them here, and there may not be a plug I can use. Lots of love, J.

This done, Jenny got out of bed and undressed quickly, putting her cardigan back on the moment she could. She then found a pair of socks and looked around the room for more bedding. There was a moth-eaten tartan rug on the back of the chair, and although it smelt musty, she added it to the bedclothes. She couldn’t be sure, but she had a strong suspicion that the bed was damp.

She lay down and shut her eyes. She was bone-tired but couldn’t sleep; she was too cold and tense. What she wanted was a mug of hot chocolate, a hot-water bottle and a good novel. What she had was a damp bed and something off the Booker shortlist that wasn’t worth turning the light back on for.

She heard Lachlan leave, and the rest of the family come up to bed. She listened to the trooping along the corridor to the bathroom and thought bitterly about Lady Dalmain’s private hot-water supply.

Eventually, when all was quiet, she switched on her bedside light and got up, wondering if she went to the bathroom it would help her settle. She didn’t dare go downstairs to the kitchen to find a hot drink in case the dogs woke up and ate her.

She met Felicity coming out of the bathroom.

‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Have you got everything you need? Mama said to put flowers in your room and I forgot.’

‘I don’t mind not having flowers, but I could really do with something to read. You haven’t got anything, have you?’

Felicity chuckled. ‘Come with me.’

Felicity’s bedroom was full of furniture and books. There were bookcases along every wall, and the shelves were double-stacked. ‘It’s how I get through,’ she said. ‘Now, what do you fancy? Light romance, thrillers, fantasy, crime? I’ve got them all.’

‘My goodness, it’s like a library.’

‘I’ve got a tame bookshop which posts them to me. Books are my one extravagance, and at least it’s one Mama vaguely approves of. Not that she knows what I read. She thinks I just reread the Brontës, Jane Austen and George Eliot. Even Dickens is a bit too much of an easy read for her.’

‘You’re very patient with her.’

Felicity sighed. ‘She can be very difficult if crossed.’

Jenny refrained from further comment and moved to a bookcase. ‘Georgette Heyer?’

I’ve got them all. Which one do you fancy?’

‘I haven’t read any for ages.’

‘Take a pile. Here.’

Jenny went back to her room. Maybe she would survive this house after all.

In the morning, having put on as many layers as she could, she found her way downstairs. She’d heard the dogs being let out earlier, and hoped they would remember her from last night, and not attack her. She badly needed something hot to drink.

Felicity was in the kitchen, in her dressing gown, with her hair hanging down her back. Her features were smudged from sleep and she did not look happy.

‘Good morning,’ said Jenny, gently.

‘Good morning. Did you sleep all right? I’m just
making Mama’s tea. Could you keep an eye on that toast under the grill while I get the milk?’

Jenny thought of all the times her mother had brought her tea in bed when she was waking her up for school. She resolved that she would make her mother tea every day she spent at home.

‘Would you like an egg for breakfast?’ went on Felicity, setting a tray. ‘I’ll do you one when I’ve taken this up.’

Butter, honey and marmalade were put in little cut glass dishes. A small silver teapot was filled with hot water and milk put into a matching jug.

‘It’s very kind of you to do that for your mother each day. Or is today a special treat or something?’

‘No, it’s every day. And it’s easier to do what Mama wants than to argue. Also, it’s nice to have one meal in peace.’

As she watched Felicity take out the tray, Jenny wondered why on earth she was still living at home when she was obviously so unhappy. She noticed that the kitchen table was set for three and assumed that Philip would be along soon.

This was good. She needed to talk to Philip, and wanted to go with him into the mill as soon as she could. She couldn’t make any assessments until she’d seen the books. Also, she needed to find out exactly what his mother knew about the situation, so that she could avoid putting her foot in it.

Philip appeared in a smart suit with his skin shiny. He looked as if he might have had a cold shower and enjoyed it.

‘Morning, Jenny, morning, Fliss. Good night everyone? The house ghost didn’t bother you, Jenny?’

‘Don’t be silly, Phil; there isn’t a house ghost, and don’t be so hearty. I can’t stand it and I don’t suppose Jenny can either. I’m just not a morning person.’

‘I’m a morning person after I’ve had a cup of tea,’ said Jenny.

‘Here, let me pour it for you,’ said Felicity, and handed her a huge breakfast cup and saucer.

‘So, are you going to come with me today?’ asked Philip, ‘or do you want a day to settle in?’

Jenny shuddered and took a sip of tea, hoping it just looked as if she was cold. She
was
cold, but the thought of spending a whole day in that house, with Lady Dalmain constantly sniping at Felicity, was enough to give her violent cabin fever.

‘I think I should get down to work straight away.’

‘You don’t need time to recover from your journey?’

Felicity’s question made Jenny feel guilty. She could escape so easily and Felicity seemed stuck here.

‘Oh no, I’m fine,’ said Jenny. ‘Do you find driving tiring?’

‘I’m a bit agoraphobic, so I only ever go to Inverness, because I know the way really well. But that’s over three hours away, so if I do go, I usually stay over with a friend. Then I don’t have to do the journey both ways in one day. I only manage that about three times a year. It’s hard for me to get away with so much needing looking after here.’

A banging at the back door reminded Felicity of some of her responsibilities and she went to let the dogs in.

Only halfway down her breakfast cup of tea, Jenny pondered. Was Felicity really so housebound? Could
she really not escape her mother’s influence and break out on her own?

‘Sit down, Jenny, do,’ said Felicity, when she had come back in and the dogs had given Jenny a cursory sniff and a more thorough layer of hairs, and settled themselves in a selection of baskets. ‘I’ll get the eggs on. How many would you like? Two?’

‘One and some toast, please. But there’s no need for you to wait on me. I could easily do it myself.’

‘I’m cooking them for Philip and me anyway, so I might as well.’

Jenny sat down at the table. Philip was already halfway through a piece of toast.

‘How is Mama today?’

‘She asked me if I was looking after Jenny properly, and didn’t I think I should have got dressed before coming down as dressing gowns look so slutty.’ Felicity pulled out a chair and sighed. ‘Does anyone mind if I smoke? I don’t do it when Mama is up, but she never comes down before eleven, and then not in here.’

‘Why does Felicity go on living here?’ demanded Jenny, when she and Philip were driving away in his low-slung convertible, which at least had a blissfully efficient heater.

‘I know my mother seems hard on her,’ said Philip, ‘
but
Fliss likes living there really. She could escape if she really wanted to. But a little flat in Glasgow wouldn’t suit her. She doesn’t have a lot of stamina. I don’t think she could manage an ordinary job. And Mama does need someone to look after her.’