September (1990) (33 page)

Archie stood and looked at the forlorn piece of furniture for some time. Then he shouted for Isobel. She came. She helped him sweep away the dirt and the cobwebs and the mouse droppings and the drifts of old sawdust. Scuttling spiders were sent packing, as were solidified pots of glue, piles of yellowed newspapers, ancient tins of paint. Isobel cleaned the windows and somehow forced them open, letting in the sweet fresh air.

Meanwhile Archie, having wiped and oiled all the fine old tools, the chisels and hammers, saws and planes, replaced them in orderly fashion in their racks. With that done, he sat down and wrote out a list of all that he needed, and Isobel went into Relkirk and bought it for him.

Only then was he able to get down to work and finish the job that his father had started.

Now he sat at that same bench, the afternoon sun slanting through the top half of the window, and finished priming the carving he had been working on, from time to time, over the last month or two. It was about ten inches high and depicted the figure of a girl sitting on a boulder with a small Jack Russell terrier leaning against her knee. The girl wore a sweater and a kilted skirt, and her hair was windblown. It was, in fact, Katy Steynton and her dog. Verena had given Archie a photograph of her daughter, taken up on the moor last year, and from this he had made the drawings for the carving. With the primer dry, he would paint it, reproducing as closely as possible the muted colours of the photograph. And then it would be given to Katy as a twenty-first birthday present.

It was done. He laid down the brush and leaned back in his chair to stretch the aches out of his limbs, and assess his creation over the top of his half-moon spectacles. He had never before attempted the complications of a sitting figure, and a female one at that, and was inordinately pleased with the way it had turned out. Girl and dog made a charming composition. Tomorrow he would paint it. He looked forward with some satisfaction to applying the final touches.

From upstairs, he heard the faint sound of the telephone ringing. It was only just audible, and for months he and Isobel had been talking about the sense of installing another bell in the basement so that he could hear the sound more easily, should he be alone in the house. But they had done nothing about this and he was alone in the house now, and wondered how long the telephone had been ringing, and if there was time for him to make his way upstairs and pick up the receiver before the caller, losing heart, hung up. He thought about ignoring it but the ringing continued. Perhaps it was important. He pushed back his chair and made his slow way down the passage and up the stairs to answer the wretched instrument. The nearest receiver was in the kitchen and it was still ringing shrilly as Archie crossed over to the dresser and picked it up.

"Croy." "Dad!"

"Lucilla!" His heart leaped with joy. He reached for a chair.

"Where were you? The phone's been ringing for hours."

"Down in my workshop." He settled himself, taking the weight off his leg.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Is Mum not there?"

"No. She and Hamish have gone blackberrying. Lucilla, where are you?"

"I'm in London. And you'll never guess where I'm ringing from. You'll never guess in a thousand years."

"In that case you'd better tell me."

"The Ritz."

"What the hell are you doing there?"

"Staying the night. And then we're driving up tomorrow. We'll be home tomorrow night."

Archie took off his spectacles; he could feel the grin of delight spreading over his face. "Who's 'we'?"

"Jeff Howland and me. And . . . wait for it . . . Pandora."

"Pandora?"

"I thought that would surprise you. . . ."

"But what's Pandora doing with you?"

"She's coming home. She says it's for Verena Steynton's dance, but I suspect it's really to see Croy and all of you again."

"Is she there now?"

"No. She's having a toes-up. I'm phoning from my room. I'm all alone except for Jeff. I've got so much to tell you and Mum, but I won't do it now because it's all so complicated. . . ."

But Archie would not let her off with this excuse. "When did you get to London?"

"This morning. Just before lunch. We've all been driving through Spain and France in Pandora's car. We've had the most amazing time. Then we caught the ferry early this morning and came to London. I was all ready to head north right away, but Pandora wanted to draw breath, so she brought us here. Insisted. And don't worry about the bill because she's footing it. She footed the whole trip, ever since we left Palma. Paid for all the petrol, the hotels, everything."

"How . . ." His voice broke. It was ridiculous, unmanly, to be so emotional. He tried again. "How is she?"

"She's fine. Terribly pretty. Lots of fun. Oh, Dad, you are pleased I'm bringing her home, aren't you? It's not going to be too much for Mum? Pandora's not. what you call madly domesticated and I don't suppose she'll ever raise a finger to do anything to help, but she's so excited about seeing you both again. It will be all right, won't it?"

"More than all right, my darling. It's like a miracle."

"And don't forget, I'm bringing Jeff as well."

"We look forward to meeting him."

"See you tomorrow then."

"What time?"

"About five? But don't worry if we're a little late."

"We won't."

"I can't wait."

"Nor me. Drive carefully, my darling."

"Of course." She sent him a kissing noise down the hundreds of miles of wire, and rang off.

Archie was left sitting on the hard kitchen chair and holding the buzzing receiver in his hand. Lucilla and Pandora. Coming home.

He replaced the receiver. The buzzing ceased. The old kitchen clock ticked slowly. For a few moments he sat where he was, and then got to his feet and went out of the kitchen and down the passage to his study. Sitting at his desk, he opened a drawer and took out a key. Using this key, he opened another, smaller drawer. From this he withdrew an envelope, yellowed with the years and addressed in Pandora's large and immature scrawl to himself, at the Headquarters of The Queen's Loyal Highlanders, in Berlin. The date of the postmark was 1967. It contained a letter, but he did not take this letter out to read because he knew it by heart. Which meant that there was no reason why he had never torn it to shreds, nor flung it on a fire, except that he could not bring himself to destroy it.

Pandora. Coming back to Croy.

From the distance came the sound of a car, growing louder, approaching the house, up the hill from the main road. The noise of its engine was unmistakable. Isobel and Hamish returning in the minibus from their blackberrying expedition. Archie put the envelope back into its drawer, locked it away, disposed once more of the key, and went to meet them.

Isobel had driven the minibus around the back of the house and parked it in the yard and, by the time Archie returned to the kitchen, they were there, his wife and his son, flinging open the door and staggering triumphantly through it, each weighed down by two huge baskets brimming with dark fruit. After a session in the bramble thickets they were both disreputable, dirty, and mud-stained, and looked, Archie decided fondly, no better than a pair of tinkers.

Every time he set eyes on Hamish, he knew a small shock of surprise, because the boy, these summer holidays, had grown like a young tree, getting taller and larger by the day. At twelve, he now topped his mother, and his out-at-elbow sweater was strained across a pair of muscular shoulders. His shirt hung out of his jeans, purple juice stained his hands and mouth, and his abundant corn-coloured hair was sorely in need of a cut. Archie, eyeing him, was filled with pride.

"Hi, Dad." Dumping the baskets onto the kitchen table, Hamish groaned. "I'm starving."

"You're always starving."

Isobel, too, set down her load. "Hamish, you've been eating blackberries all afternoon." She wore her baggy corduroys and a shirt that Archie had long since discarded. "You can't be hungry."

"I am. Blackberries don't fill you up." Hamish was headed for the dresser where the cake tins were stacked. He removed a lid with a clatter and reached for a knife.

Archie admired their harvest. "You've done frightfully well."

"We must have picked about thirty pounds. I'v
e n
ever seen so many. We went over to the other side of the river where Mr. Gladstone grows his turnips. The hedgerows around those fields are groaning with fruit." Isobel pulled out a chair and sat down. "I'd die for a cup of tea."

Archie said, "I have news for you."

She looked up quickly, always fearing the worst. "Good news?"

"The best," he told her.

"But when did she call? What did she say? Why didn't she let us know before?" Isobel, alight with excitement, gave Archie no time to answer any question. "Why didn't they call us from Palma, or France, and give us more notice? Not that I need a moment's notice, it doesn't matter; all that matters is that they're coming. And staying at the Ritz. I don't think that Lucilla's ever stayed in a hotel in the whole of her life. Pandora is ridiculous. They could easily have gone somewhere a little less grand. . . ."

"Pandora probably doesn't know anywhere else."

"And they're staying over the dance? And she's bringing the sheep-farmer? Do you suppose she actually persuaded Pandora to come? It's so extraordinary, after all these years, that it's taken Lucilla to persuade her. I'll have to get all the bedrooms ready. We'll be quite a house party because we've got that American friend of Katy's coming as well. And food. I think there are still some pheasants in the deep-freeze. . . ."

They were, by now, sitting around the table and drinking tea. Hamish, in famished desperation, had put the kettle on and made this. While his parents talked, he had set the table with three mugs, the tins that contained the cakes and biscuits, and a loaf of bread on its wooden board. As well, he had found butter and a jar of Branston Pickle. Hamish had, just now, a passion for Branston Pickle and spread it on everything. He was, at this moment, engaged in concocting a sandwich, th
e d
ark pickle oozing out between two enormous doorstops of bread.

. . did she tell you about Pandora? Did she say anything at all about her?"

"Not very much. Just sounded pleased with life."

"Oh, I wish I'd been here to talk to her."

"You can talk to her toiporrow."

"Have you told anyone else they're coming?"

"No. Just you."

"I'll have to call Verena and tell her she's got three more people coming to her party. And I must tell Virginia. And Vi."

Archie reached for the teapot and refilled his mug.

"I was thinking. Perhaps it would be a good idea to ask all the Airds for lunch on Sunday? What do you say? After all, we don't know how long Pandora's going to be staying, and next week's going to be like a three
-
ring circus with one thing and another. Sunday might be a good day."

"That's a brilliant idea. I'll ring Virginia." And I'll order a sirloin from the butcher."

Hamish said "Yum yum" and reached for another slice of gingerbread.

". . . and if it's a fine day we can play croquet. We haven't played croquet all summer. You'll have to cut the grass, Archie." She set down her mug, businesslike. "Now. I've got to make bramble jelly, and I'll have to get all the bedrooms ready. But I mustn't forget to ring Virginia. ..."

"I'll do that," said Archie. "You can leave that t
o m
e.

But Isobel, with the great jelly-pan set on the Aga and the blackberries simmering, knew that if she did not share her exciting news with somebody, she would burst, and so found time to call Violet. At first there was no reply from Pennyburn, so she hung up and called again half an hour later.

"Hello."

"Vi, it's Isobel."

"Oh, my dear."

"Are you busy?"

"No, I'm sitting down with a drink in my hand."

"But, Vi, it's only half past five. Have you taken to the bottle?"

"Temporarily. I've had the most exhausting day of my life, wheeling Lottie Carstairs around Relkirk and giving her tea. Never mind, it's all over now and I've done my good deed for the week. But I did feel I deserved a large whisky and soda."

"You certainly do. Or even two large whiskies and soda. Vi, something really exciting has happened. Lucilla rang from London and she's coming home tomorrow and she's bringing Pandora with her."

"She's bringing who?"

"Pandora. Archie's over the moon with delight. Just think. He's been trying to get her back to Croy for the past twenty-one years and now she's actually coming."

"I can't believe it."

"Incredible, isn't it? Come for lunch on Sunday and see them all. We're asking all the other Airds as well, you can come with them."

"I'd love to do that. But . . . Isobel, why did she suddenly decide to come? Pandora, I mean."

"No idea, Lucilla said something about the Steyntons' party, but it seems a fairly feeble excuse."