Moreton's Kingdom (14 page)

‘I wasn’t thinking about Emma’s own work,’ she explained. ‘She would be far more disappointed if your pictures didn’t sell than she would be if her sculptures remained on the gallery shelves.’

He paused for a moment to consider her argument. ‘You’re perfectly right, Kate,’ he said. ‘Emma’s the greatest person I know. A true friend.’

‘So it’s goodbye to the fit of the blues?’ Katherine joked. ‘All your pictures are going to sell!’

He put an arm round her shoulders.

‘D’you know, I think you’re good for me,’ he said, ‘and you’re certainly good for Sandy. He’s come right out of his shell these past few days.’

‘It’s thanks to Emma, too, you know,’ Katherine pointed out. ‘He’s very fond of her.’

‘She bribes him!’ Fergus laughed. ‘With all these animals she carves for him.’

‘I don’t think that’s her reason at all,’ Katherine protested. ‘She does it for love.’

He turned his head away.

‘Love for Sandy,’ he said. ‘What else could it be? Emma’s always been a caring sort of person: caring what becomes of her friends, possibly caring about me and certainly about Sandy for the past couple of years. She couldn’t understand Coralie and tried to stop her when she went away. I couldn’t.’ He sighed heavily. ‘What had I to offer her, anyway?’

‘Glassary and a lifetime of contentment at the Stable House,’ Katherine answered promptly.

‘That would be enough for you or Emma,’ he mused, ‘but not for Coralie. I ought to have been able to understand her desire for freedom to do her own thing, but I didn’t. Sometimes, in my wilder moments, I feel that I should have been more demanding, but it wouldn’t have worked. Coralie was determined to go. She couldn’t bear defeat, and I understand that more easily now. I’d like you to be at the flat with Emma,’ he added, ‘while I’m here with Sandy.’

It was something she had to do for him, Katherine realised, something small but important; more important than her pride.

She approached Charles about her change of mind the following morning when she found him at the breakfast table encouraging his small nephew to eat up his porridge.

‘Will I be big and strong like you if I do?’ Sandy was asking as she opened the door.

‘Bigger and stronger, I expect!’ Charles pushed back his chair. ‘It could also make you pretty, like Katherine!’

Sandy considered the point.

‘I don’t want to be pretty,’ he said. ‘Just strong. I don’t want to be a girl.’

Charles laughed.

‘You’re fine as you are,’ he said, ‘and we’ve decided to keep you.’ He looked across the table at Katherine. ‘When do you go to Edinburgh?’ he asked.

‘I wanted to speak to you about that.’ She sat down opposite him. ‘Can I change my mind about borrowing your flat?’

‘Certainly. I thought you would,’ he added, ‘when you had talked it over with Fergus.’

‘I’d take great care of it.’

‘I’m sure you will, although you’ll find it’s pretty basic. A man’s domain, in fact,’ he warned.

‘That won’t matter,’ she assured him. ‘Emma and I will be out all day and sometimes in the evenings, I expect, and we won’t be giving parties.’

‘You can please yourself about the parties,’ he said, ‘but I would guess that you’d be far too tired for midnight flings after you’ve been at the gallery all day. I’ll give you the key.’

While he was unfastening it from his key-ring she tried to thank him.

‘It’s very kind of you, Charles, especially after I’d refused.’

‘It’s easy enough to change one’s mind. People do it all the time, and Fergus will feel better about it if you’re at the flat.’ The emphasis was on his brother’s continuing peace of mind. ‘There’s a caretaker on the top floor, by the way, who controls the speaking system when the flats are empty. Do you know how it works?’

‘I think so. A friend had one in London and there was one at Millie Downhill’s, if you remember?’ A deep colour rose into her cheeks, as she mentioned the noisy cocktail party where they had first met. Where he had first learned to distrust her, she thought. ‘I suppose they’re all much the same.’

‘More or less.’ Charles handed over two keys, a Yale and a larger one for a mortice lock. ‘You’ll need them both,’ he explained, ‘when you first go in if you don’t want to disturb the caretaker. The flat’s on the first floor and there isn’t a lift.’

Their fingers touched as Katherine took the keys and she drew back as if she had been scorched.

‘You’re quite sure you won’t want to come to Edinburgh?’ she asked to hide her emotion.

Charles shook his head.

‘Not to the flat,’ he said. ‘I might take a look in at the exhibition once it gets going.’

‘We’re banking on it so much,’ she confessed, echoing some of Emma’s enthusiasm. ‘It means such a lot to Fergus and we just can’t allow him to be disappointed.’

‘Not a second time,’ said Charles, turning towards the door. ‘I’ve made up my mind about that.’

Katherine could not see his face, but she could imagine the determination reflected in the grey eyes and the grim look of the mouth. They were all trying to help in their different ways and Charles was ruthless in his pursuit of repayment, seeing her as a willing tool where his brother was concerned.

‘Fergus will learn to live again,’ she said unsteadily. ‘His life is only beginning in many ways, and he’ll soon forget Coralie.’

‘With your help,’ he said abruptly as he went out in search of his brother.

Katherine sat quite still when he had gone, thinking that she had no right to call him back to dispute that final statement or tell him that she loved him. When she looked about her everything she saw spoke to her of Charles: the quiet, homely room where the sun came flooding in over the tree tops in the early morning; the crackling of the wood fire burning cosily in the grate; the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hall, heard clearly because he had left the door open, and probably more than everything else, Sandy, the nephew he loved. Outside she could hear the little noises she had come to recognise as essential to Glassary—the clucking of pheasant chicks in the breeding pens beyond the back door; the bleating of lambs up on the hill and the ewe’s answering call and, finally, the click of the gate as Charles went through the shrubbery on his way to the Stable House to discuss the morning’s work with his brother. It was his way of involving Fergus in the running of the estate, a kindness which the younger man appreciated, although she knew that Fergus looked on Glassary as Charles’s kingdom and would rather stand firmly on his own two feet at the Stable House. If he could sell his pictures in a wider market that would be possible, but if not he would still be dependent on Charles till he found some other job.

They took the first canvases over to Edinburgh the following day, packing them carefully in the back of the Rover with sheets of cardboard in between while Emma followed in her Mini with her carvings in boxes and two of her larger sculptures on the passenger seat by her side. Mrs. Stevas would look after Sandy, a task which she greatly enjoyed, and Charles would go his own way in the Range Rover, covering the lonely miles of Glassary to check on sheep.

Fergus was quite capable of driving, but he tired easily.

‘Would you like a change of seat?’ Katherine asked him when they had gone half way. ‘I’d love to get my hands on that steering-wheel!’

He smiled at her thoughtfulness, a little wryly, she thought.

‘We’ll stop at the next watering place,’ he agreed. ‘Emma will have caught up with us by then and she’ll be ready for a coffee.’

Emma drew up ten minutes later in the overloaded Mini.

‘I thought I’d find you here,’ she said cheerfully, coming to join them at the cafe table. ‘Does anyone want to swop cars?’

‘We’ve just arranged that Kate should drive the Rover for a while,’ Fergus explained. ‘I tend to get cramp sitting in one position for too long.’

Emma looked concerned.

‘You’re sure you can make the journey in one go?’ she asked.

‘Of course! Didn’t you know I was the perfect passenger when I can stretch my legs occasionally? Don’t worry about me, Em,’ he said. ‘I’m as anxious to get to Edinburgh as you are and we need to get there this morning.’

There was enthusiasm and a touch of excitement in his voice and Katherine could feel her own anticipation mounting in sympathy. The exhibition meant so much to him and Emma, although the end of it could mean nothing but parting as far as she was concerned. In three weeks’ time it would be goodbye to Charles and Glassary for ever.

Edinburgh on a Saturday morning was a hive of activity, like any great city, but the Scottish capital had an air of regality as the sun shone down on Princes Street with the Mound and the castle rising splendidly above it. The trees in the Gardens were in splendid bloom, adding colour to the scene, and high above the Calton Hill white clouds sailed across a sky which was gloriously blue.

‘It’s the most beautiful city in the world,’ Emma said patriotically as they drew up at the gallery together. ‘It’s a pity we have to work!’

The little gallery had been closed for a week, but a great deal of rubbish left by the former occupants had to be cleared away, boxes and plastic containers and large sheets of corrugated cardboard which Emma husbanded for future use.

‘Not that I expect us to be taking much back with us,’ she said cheerfully, ‘but there are still a few things to bring across on Monday.’

‘I thought we’d leave the murals behind,’ said Fergus. ‘They’re the sort of thing that’s generally commissioned.’

‘Not on your life!’ Emma declared. ‘They’re almost your best effort and they’ll look splendid along that back wall.’

They were inside the gallery now, having obtained the keys from the shop next door, and she was already planning the layout for the exhibition, deciding where this or that would be placed to the best advantage when she had finally studied the light.

Smiling gently at her enthusiasm, Fergus followed her from section to section leaning heavily on his stick, while Katherine tidied up the floor.

‘It isn’t really dirty,’ she decided, wielding a broom when most of the packing material had been stacked beside the door. ‘Just untidy-looking.’

There was much to be done. When they started to carry in the canvases it was amazing to see the amount of work Fergus had got through in the past three years. Most of the larger paintings had been done before his accident, but there were small gems of landscapes which he had worked on after Coralie had left.

‘He put everything he had into them,’ Emma said, coming up behind her as Katherine handled one. ‘It was a sort of escape mechanism as far as he was concerned and I think they’re magnificent. That one is the glen beyond Glassary. He could get there in the car after a while and be alone.’

Katherine had already recognised the painting and the deserted croft on the hillside where Charles had found her when she had strayed from Glassary. Fergus had captured it all so faithfully: the green of the new heather and the grey of the boulders where the river ran down, and the sun gilding the rocks above the treeline. There was even a hint of mist descending slowly as it had done that day as she had cycled along the rough hill track, but in the picture there was a shaft of light above Glassary that was like a promise.

The painting was priced at sixty pounds and she asked impulsively:

‘Do you think I could have it?’

Emma looked surprised.

‘If you really want it,’ she said. ‘Why are you so keen?’

Unable to meet her searching gaze, Katherine looked down at the picture again.

‘Because I was lost up there,’ she said slowly. ‘You can even see the empty croft where Charles and I were forced to shelter till the mist cleared. Fergus has a keen eye for detail.’

Emma continued to gaze at her.

‘I heard about it,’ she said at last. ‘It was lucky that Charles found you so quickly.’

‘I was terrified,’ Katherine admitted. ‘It was so quiet, yet there were so many inexplicable sounds.’

‘The moor whispering!’ Emma laughed. ‘We used to listen as children, scaring each other to death! Never mind—you were rescued, and that must have been the end of fear as far as you were concerned. Another human being on the scene can make a world of difference.’

Katherine could feel the comfort of Charles’s arms about her as they had found each other in the darkness and her fingers tightened possessively about the ornate little frame. ‘I must have it,’ she said huskily. ‘I’ll tell Fergus.’

‘His first sale of the exhibition!’ Emma stuck a little red seal on the glass above the painted croft, ‘He’ll take it as an omen! I wish I’d thought of it first,’ she added, ‘because having even one “sold” seal on your work before you open makes a difference. A certain type of person will always buy if they think things are already going well, and we want to encourage them.’

At two o’clock they went out to a nearby restaurant to find something to eat.

‘We can’t do much more,’ said Emma, ‘and I’m ravenous. We haven’t eaten since the cafe at Callander. I really am getting excited now that things are shaping up so well,’ she added. ‘I can see it all happening!’

‘Don’t get too enthusiastic,’ Fergus warned. ‘Otherwise you’ll be more than disappointed if things don’t sell out.’

Emma had arranged most of her own work on little tables between the different sections of his paintings, and it was quite true to say that everything was very saleable if only they could attract the necessary customers.

‘Do we need flowers?’ Katherine asked. ‘Or would they detract from the exhibits?’

‘Nature against art?’ Emma mused. ‘Perhaps they would. I rather like the stark look of Fergus’s drawings against the sea-green of the walls. They’re decoration enough.’

‘You’re right,’ Fergus agreed. ‘All we need is a great bank of azaleas from Glassary to hide all that glass at the entrance. Kate could bring them through on Monday morning.’

Bringing something of Glassary to Edinburgh to remind her of the glen, Katherine thought, but perhaps she didn’t need a cascade of vivid colour spilling from a metal trough to keep the memory of Glassary in her mind.

It had been arranged that she should bring the Mini back to Edinburgh with the final exhibits on the Monday, while Fergus and Emma would join her on Tuesday morning prior to the official opening of the exhibition at two o’clock. They had dispensed with the idea of a celebrity to launch their endeavour, preferring to open quietly and let the public drift in as they felt inclined. They had advertised extensively and Fergus hoped that they would attract the right clientele without the added expense of a glamorous film star or a popular singing idol to speed them on their way.

‘That sort of thing doesn’t really attract the sort of people we want,’ he said, smiling as he looked at the little red seal on Katherine’s picture. ‘It’s buyers we want.’ His eyes lingered on her flushed face. ‘What are you going to do with it?’

‘My painting? I’m going to keep it,’ she told him, ‘to remind me of these past two weeks. I’m going to hang it on a wall somewhere so that I can look at it all the time. I suppose I want to remember Glassary because, in spite of everything, I’ve been happy there.’