Moreton's Kingdom (17 page)

‘I don’t,’ Emma said. ‘It’s never really been lived in for any length of time since Charles bought it. He uses it occasionally, I believe, but it lay empty for several years after the accident. In fact, it was never really occupied.’

There was a brief pause while Katherine inserted the key in the mortice lock to open the heavy main door.

‘I believe it’s pretty basic,’ Emma said. ‘A bachelor’s idea of adequacy.’

They climbed a wide staircase which spiralled up to the first floor where two doors faced each other across a landing.

‘Here we are!’ said Emma, halting before one of them.

A brass nameplate much in need of polishing bore Charles’s name above a bell, and Katherine inserted the Yale key in the lock. Even if the flat was indeed ‘basic’, as Charles had first warned her, it would be adequate for their needs.

The door admitted them to a square hall darkened by the fact that it had no natural light, but Emma found a switch and it was soon flooded in the glare of electricity. Doors led off on either side, the first one they tried opening into a spacious living-room which boasted a bed-settee, several unrelated armchairs, a table and four dining chairs upholstered in green leather, another smaller table to accommodate the telephone and a standard lamp with a gold shade in a corner. Reading matter littered the dining-table at one end, firm proof that Charles took most of his occasional meals at the other, and there were more books on the table beside the telephone. The one unexpected touch was the soft, close-pile carpet covering the floor from wall to wall. Katherine had first noticed it in the hall and it was probably repeated throughout the flat, its rich deep purple the one luxurious touch in an otherwise ordinary home.

Emma was busy opening doors.

‘There’s only one bedroom,’ she announced, ‘but I can easily sleep on the settee. They’re amazingly comfortable, as a rule, and this one looks new. Come and see the kitchen,’ she commanded. ‘It’s quite something!’

The kitchen and bathroom had been completely redesigned to a fastidious taste, Katherine thought, as she noticed the built-in cupboards in natural pine and the split-level cooker that looked as if it had never been used. A woman’s taste!

Someone—probably the caretaker at Charles’s request—had brought in milk and eggs, and there was a loaf of bread in the metal bin on top of one of the work surfaces.

‘We won’t need these till the morning,’ Emma said. ‘I’ll pop the milk into the fridge.’ She switched it on, although it was completely empty. ‘You can shop for the other things you’ll need tomorrow,’ she suggested. ‘There’s bound to be a lull at the gallery before the public rush in!’

‘Fergus was disappointed,’ said Katherine. ‘He couldn’t help showing it.’

‘It’s early days yet,’ Emma decided, ‘but I can’t help wishing I hadn’t done so well. It makes it seem as if his work isn’t so important, and that’s not true. They’ve simply
got
to appreciate his painting, because all this means so much to him.’

‘I wonder if there’ll be anything in the newspapers tomorrow,’ Katherine mused. ‘Some sort of official criticism.’

‘We’ll have to wait and see.’ Emma prowled restlessly about the sitting-room. ‘I mean to be up early to look through them before I pick up Fergus at the Pattersons’ because I’ve simply got to know what they might say in advance.’

Katherine found extra blankets in a chest of drawers in the bedroom and they made up the settee.

‘You’re sure we can’t swop?’ she asked. ‘I really don’t mind the settee.’

‘I’m not going to be here all the time,’ Emma pointed out practically. ‘It’ll be much tidier if you sleep in the bed.’

They slept soundly, wakening in the morning to the sound of traffic outside their window instead of the plaintive bleating of sheep that greeted them in the glen.

‘I’m going for the papers,’ Emma called as she went out. ‘You can put on the kettle and boil a couple of eggs.’ Katherine, who hadn’t unpacked fully the night before, hung up two woollen dresses in the fitted wardrobe and put a change of underwear in one of the drawers. The rest could wait, she thought. She had laid hairbrushes, comb and make-up on the dressing-table top and put her shoes neatly beneath when the doorbell rang.

‘It’s me,’ said Emma from outside the main door. ‘Can you let me in?’

Whom did she expect? Katherine pressed the door release with a wry smile. Charles?

‘I forgot to take the keys.’ Emma whirled past her into the living-room after depositing butter and a jar of marmalade on the kitchen bench. ‘Listen to this! I quote: “Yesterday, at the Lovelle Gallery, a small exhibition of paintings drew me in with no great expectation of what I might find. Another mediocre collection was possibly my first reaction, but within minutes I was viewing the sort of work I’ve been searching for over the past five years. Here were landscapes and seascapes of tremendous power, with an individual depth and colouring to gladden the heart. No one who has even the least interest in art should fail to come here. The artist is completely unknown, so I doubt if he has ever exhibited his work before, otherwise we would have heard of him. Go to the Lovelle and see for yourself. These are paintings which will make their mark eventually. They are not great works of art, but they will hold their own in the galleries of the world in time.”’ Emma drew in a long, quivering breath. ‘That will do for a start,’ she decided, laying the newspaper aside. ‘Now for the others!’

They went through three morning papers before they realised that the eggs had boiled dry and only one critic dismissed the exhibition as ‘a tedious repetition of the expected’, which made Emma’s blood boil.

‘What does
he
know about it?’ she demanded angrily. ‘If he’s “never heard of Fergus Moreton”, he will!’

Katherine was reading the final review over her shoulder, the eggs forgotten.

‘It means we’re going to be busy,’ she said, ‘and your faith in Fergus is vindicated.’

Emma’s eyes glowed, and in that moment she looked beautiful.

‘I knew he could do it,’ she said quietly. ‘Long ago I knew, but he wouldn’t listen to me. Perhaps it took your enthusiasm to convince him,’ she added generously. ‘Whichever way, we have a celebration on our hands. What price a champagne lunch before we go back to Glassary?’

‘Shouldn’t we wait for results?’ Katherine asked cautiously. ‘Critics aren’t always taken at their word.’

‘You’re remembering what I said yesterday,’ Emma laughed, completely intoxicated by the reviews. ‘But I feel success in my bones now.’ She flourished the newspapers. ‘This is unstinted praise. It will bring them in!’

Fergus had already seen the critics’ verdict by the time they reached Morningside.

‘We’re early,’ Emma announced, ‘because we simply couldn’t bear to wait!’

‘It’s encouraging,’ he said modestly. ‘More than encouraging, I suppose. I must confess I didn’t expect to be praised so highly right away.’

‘Well,’ Emma said, ‘this will be our busy day, but working hard is part of it. My mother says you never achieve anything unless you’re willing to put your back into it, so here goes!’

They said goodbye to the Pattersons and drove quickly to the gallery.

‘Doesn’t everything look quite different this morning?’ Emma said.

Her joy was so infectious that they had to laugh.

‘By ten o’clock we’re going to be swamped,’ she predicted.

It was eleven before the public began to come in, squeezing through the narrow doorway to pay the small entrance fee which included a copy of the catalogue. Some of them were carrying morning newspapers; others were there to see exactly what was going on.

Katherine was kept far too busy to notice the individual viewer, but even without looking up from her task of parcelling Emma’s sculptures she could hear what was being said. ‘Wonderful!’ ‘Quite unique, if you ask me’, ‘A change, thank heaven, from the eternal green blob on a red background entitled “Sunrise” or “Sunset” or whatever one would like to suggest!’ were the phrases she heard most frequently, and soon she was tying up small framed examples of Fergus’s work which had been bought and paid for on the spot.

‘I’m going back to the flat,’ Emma announced at four o’clock. ‘We must have some kind of celebration.’

Unsuspecting, Katherine handed over the keys.

‘Don’t be too long,’ she said. ‘Trade’s booming!’

It was six o’clock before Emma returned.

‘I had some shopping to do,’ she explained enigmatically.

She was an entirely new person, gay and bright as she revelled in Fergus’s success and the obvious change in him.

‘If this goes on we’re going to need help or Fergus will have to stay in Edinburgh,’ she said, looking down the still busy gallery. ‘That might be the best idea,’ she added. ‘He ought to savour his triumph to the full. Not that it’s likely to give him a swollen head,’ she hastened to explain, ‘but he does deserve it. He’s hoped for this moment for so long. Oh—look who’s here!’

Katherine swung round to find Charles standing in the doorway.

‘Chay!’ Emma exclaimed, rushing forward to greet him. ‘This is wonderful!’ She relieved him of the large paper bag he was carrying. ‘We didn’t expect to see you. Can you get in?’

Charles stepped aside to let one of their customers out while Katherine stood watching, painfully aware of the turbulent beating of her heart. She had thought never to see Charles again, and here he was!

The last customer paid for the carving he had bought and went out. Emma closed the door with a deeply indrawn breath of satisfaction.

‘Well, how about that?’ she asked.

‘It looks as if you’ve been most successful,’ Charles said, shaking his brother by the hand. ‘We’re all going to tell you we knew it would happen, but congratulations, anyway. I’ve read the morning papers. You’ve evidently been discovered!’

He looked at Katherine at last, his eyes warm and friendly, thanking her for what she had done to help his brother find himself.

‘It certainly calls for a celebration,’ he said. ‘I brought some champagne.’

‘We’ll have it in the flat,’ Emma suggested mysteriously. ‘You won’t mind?’

He shook his head.

‘Why should I? I only hope you were comfortable last night.’ He was looking at Katherine again. ‘I forgot to mention extra blankets.’

‘We found them in the bedroom.’ She was able to speak casually, although some of the warmth he had shown her was reflected in her eyes. ‘The flat was so much nicer than being in an hotel.’

‘I’ve set out some things.’ Emma was still being mysterious. ‘I thought it would be nicer than drinking warm champagne in the office!’

Fergus was wandering between the cubicles, assessing their success.

‘I’ll have to go back to Glassary for those other paintings,’ he said. ‘It’s unbelievable!’

‘If I’d phoned before I’d set out I could have brought them with me,’ Charles acknowledged, ‘but I’ll take you back in the morning if Emma wants to stay.’

‘Emma
has
to stay!’ said Emma with a twinkle in her eye. ‘I’ll phone home and let them know.’

‘Morag has already seen the reviews,’ Charles told her. ‘She’s absolutely bursting with pride.’

Emma looked surprised.

‘And I thought she might be resentful,’ she said, ‘because of the hotel. One never knows!’

They switched off the overhead lights, going out into the street to congregate in a talkative little group while Fergus locked the door.

‘I never thought we’d do it,’ he said when he joined them.

They drove to the flat in Katherine’s car, Charles taking the wheel.

‘Did you come across in the Rover?’ Fergus asked.

Charles nodded.

‘I parked it at the flat, and I’ve phoned the Pattersons to ask if they can put me up for a night.’

‘I’m keeping you out of your own flat,’ Katherine said. ‘I could easily have gone to a hotel if I’d known.’

‘It will only be for one night,’ he answered. ‘Don’t feel too badly about it when you’ve done so much for Fergus in the meantime. The flat’s a convenience I rarely use and it’s better occupied.’

He pulled up in Heriot Row, finding a convenient parking place, and they walked along the pavement to the flat. Katherine produced the keys, handing them over to him to open the door. It was like coming home; coming back to a place of one’s own after a busy, successful day!

Charles opened the flat door to a suggestion of wellbeing within. Someone had put flowers in the hall, leaving all the inner doors open so that the heat from the radiators could surge through and the light could come in from the windows. Emma, of course! This was what she had been doing during that stolen time in the afternoon when she had left the gallery. She had planned a celebration which would be a far more personal thing for Fergus than going to a restaurant.

In the living-room they found the table set out with convenience foods from a local delicatessen—prawns and stuffed olives and pate, and cold meats with bowls of salad in between, and more flowers arranged in the centre. Emma had ‘gone to town’ in a big way, even finding glasses from somewhere in which to drink the champagne. There were only three glasses, and she said obligingly: ‘I’ll settle for a mug! We didn’t expect you, Chay, but you’re more than welcome!’

Charles drew the cork from one of the bottles he had brought.

‘To your continuing success!’ he said, holding up his glass as he looked across the table at his brother. ‘And to your future happiness at the Stable House!’

‘I think I value my future at the Stable House even more than my success,’ said Fergus. ‘I’m hoping to make my home there when the time comes.’

Charles lowered his glass. He had been looking at Katherine, seeing the happiness in her eyes, and suddenly he turned away.

‘Don’t wait too long,’ he murmured under his breath. Because they had so much to talk about they lingered in the flat till midnight. They were tired, but neither Katherine nor Emma wanted to break up the party.

‘When did you think of all this?’ Katherine asked as they stood together for a moment.

‘It came to me when I was thinking of food!’ Emma’s eyes were bright from drinking Charles’s champagne. ‘I couldn’t settle for sausage-and-mash when we’d done so well. I’ve hidden my bottle of inferior hooch, by the way,’ she added. ‘It would have done nothing for us in comparison with Chay’s champagne!’

‘I think he looks—pensive,’ Katherine said.

‘Brooding over the past, do you mean? No, I don’t think so,’ Emma decided. ‘Charles got over Deirdre a long time ago.’

The name struck at Katherine like a whiplash.

‘Did she—plan the flat?’ Her heart seemed to be beating close against her throat. ‘Were they engaged to be married?’

‘It’s a long story,’ Emma said. ‘Ask me some other time.’

It was the wrong moment to ask about Charles’s past, Katherine realised, and possibly Emma thought that she had no right to ask at all. It had been a wonderful evening, and if Charles had indeed looked thoughtful at times as he had glanced round him at the effort Emma had made it might be only natural in the circumstances. He had given the girl he loved a free hand to furnish the flat to her own taste, and if she had failed him in some way it was equally natural that he should see it now as the place it might have been. Emma’s flowers and the set table and the warmth from the radiators now that the thick velvet curtains were drawn had made a difference.

When he was preparing to leave she asked him about Sandy.

‘It was difficult to explain that he couldn’t come with me,’ he said. ‘He was quite sure you would want to see him.’

‘I found it hard to part with him.’ She looked down at her clasped hands. ‘Sandy and I were friends.’

‘I think I recognised that when I first saw you together,’ he said. ‘Fergus will probably bring him through to the exhibition before you close.’

Fergus came across the room to put a friendly hand on his shoulder.

‘High time we were on our way,’ he suggested. ‘Working girls have to get up early in the morning. I’ll get back with the extra pictures as quickly as I can,’ he assured Emma. ‘Anything else you need from Glassary?’

‘Just some fresh air!’ Emma laughed. ‘I’m not cut out for life as a shopkeeper.’

Katherine followed them to the door.

‘I envy you the journey back to the glen,’ she said impulsively. ‘Perhaps I wasn’t cut out for shop work, either.’ Charles looked at her, wondering about her, perhaps, as she stood on his doorstep bidding him goodnight. Did it remind him of that other flat in London, confirming his