The Back of Beyond (46 page)

Chapter 36

Chilled to the bone despite the electric fire which Lexie had switched on so that he wouldn't be cold, Alistair regarded it doubtfully; he could just make out the faint glow of the spiralled strip of its single element; there didn't seem to be any heat coming from the damned thing. Shouldn't it be brighter than that? Lexie must be warm enough, though. Astonishingly, despite what she had learned last night, she was fast asleep, not, however, an altogether peaceful sleep. Her body was restless, moving, jerking involuntarily every now and then.

Poor lass. She hadn't had an easy life, especially with that awful suspicion about her father at the back of her mind for so many years. Thank goodness she knew the truth now, which, he had to admit, much as it went against the grain, was entirely due to the efforts of Detective Inspector Roderick Liddell. Still, there was no need to be jealous of him now. With the case solved, he wouldn't be bothering Lexie much longer. She'd be free to get on with her life, a life that she had dreamed of for twenty years, a life with her first and only love.

Alistair's sigh came out louder than he intended, so loud that his companion stirred and opened her eyes. ‘Are you OK, Al? You look cold.'

‘I'm not too bad,' he fibbed. ‘Go back to sleep. You need all the rest you can get.'

‘I haven't really been asleep, just dozing off and on. I've been conscious of you there all the time, thank goodness. Come under the blankets and speak to me.'

Ignoring the warning bell ringing in his head, he hoisted himself up then slid in beside her. ‘You
are
cold!' she exclaimed. ‘You're shivering. Come closer till I see if I can get some heat into you.'

She moved over and he obediently lay in the spot she had vacated for him, his temperature shooting up with the heat of her as she snuggled against him. Good God, he thought, that wasn't bad going – from well below zero to well above boiling point in a couple of seconds – but he said nothing, for fear of breaking the spell.

‘I've something to tell you, Al,' she murmured after a while.

His limbs feeling as if they belonged to him again and wouldn't cut off her circulation if they touched her, he put an arm round her and ran his hand gently down her back. He wanted to show that he loved her, too, that he had come to his senses at long last. Her little intake of breath showed that the caress had pleased her, but he wanted to hear her say what he was sure she was going to say. ‘Yes? What is it, my darling?'

She kissed him first. ‘Oh, Al, my dear, dear Al. All my life it was you I wanted …'

‘Yes,' he breathed, ‘and you've got me now.'

‘But that's just the point,' she whispered. ‘Now I know I can have you …'

His kiss was tender. It wasn't time yet for passion. ‘There's no need for you to worry, my darling. I know what you're trying to say.'

‘Do you?' She sounded surprised. ‘How could you? You can't have guessed?'

‘Yes, it wasn't difficult, all the signs were there.'

‘But we tried to keep it a secret till …'

This wasn't going as he thought. In fact, his mouth had dried up, the chill had settled on him again. ‘We? You and who else? Oh, no!' The understanding almost crushed him. ‘Don't tell me that bloody 'tec's been at you, got you fooled.'

She pulled away from him. ‘Alistair, that's not fair. Roddy's been very good to me, very considerate, and I love him … more than I ever loved you.'

He didn't believe her. He had caught her on the raw, and she was trying to get back at him by saying that. ‘You hardly know him. How long is it since you met him?'

‘Long enough. It doesn't take long to fall in love, and it doesn't take long to be sure if the other person loves you back.'

‘You can't know that for sure.' Alistair was fighting against the intrusive feeling that it wasn't only Gwen who had betrayed him. ‘I bet he's married and you're just a bit on the side for him.'

Her open hand slapped his cheek, and as he jumped back, she spat out, ‘Thank you for those kind words!' Her voice was icy. ‘But let me tell you, his wife died over five years ago, and I would trust him before you, any day! Get out of my house, Alistair Ritchie, and I don't want to see you ever again!'

Needing no second telling, he leapt out of bed, scuttled down the stairs and slammed out of the house. His mind was in such a state of torment that he completely forgot parking his car at the shop door the day before and walked in the other direction … and carried on walking, sheer instinct alone guiding his feet. All he was conscious of, apart from the jagged pain of rejection, was self-pity, an overwhelming deluge of self-pity. Why did all these bad things have to happen to him? What had he done, for God's sake, that he had to be punished for it? Hadn't he fought for his King and country? Hadn't he endured over two years in a prisoner-of-war camp? Hadn't he worked his gut out to run a business successful enough to keep his family in a decent style?

And then he'd been felled by learning that his wife had cheated on him while he was away, that she had filled her lonely hours with another man, that she had even let this other man make love to her and plant a child inside her. All that of course, according to her, was Marge's fault, and God had certainly punished
her
. One smack with a sewage pipe and poof!

Poof? Why did that remind him of something? Somebody? Somebody who said ‘Poof', and snapped his fingers?
His
fingers. Yes, it had been a man.
Manny!
Manny Isaacson. Oh, if only those happy days could come back again. If only there had never been a war. If only he had never made Gwen take their children to Forvit. If only he'd never left Forvit in the first place. He would likely have married Lexie, and they'd have been happy ever after.
She
wouldn't have broken her marriage vows.

Alistair had no control over his thoughts, which were leading him to ridiculous heights of improbability … nor over his feet, which were taking him towards the tower, his old trysting place with Lexie. They were averse to going home, where, his subconscious mind told him, lay decisions to be taken, explanations to be made, neither of which he was capable of at the present time.

There was a light layer of frost on the stony path, making his footsteps crackle as he made his way up the hill, and the scrub and clumps of heather on either side of him seemed to be ghostly, uneven, white shapes in the dim light of the half moon. When he reached the track which branched off to the right, the way to his own house, he stomped past it, firmly set now on getting to the old tower which had deteriorated even further since he was a youth, to the place where he could be sure of peace to think, to confront whatever it was that had been bothering him, ripping him apart.

Reaching his goal, he sat down on the far side, leaning against the crumbling stone wall, drawing his feet up and putting his arms round his knees. Why was he in such a state? What had happened to him? He felt completely and utterly lost, with no friends, no family, to guide him. Oh, Manny, if only you were here. You would advise me. You would keep me right. You would help me to make my decision.

What decision, though? That was the point. The ache inside him was growing angrier at the thought of having to make it. Clearly, whatever choice he made would not be a happy one. Nothing in his life would be happy now. Nothing could be even the least little bit happy any more. It was to do with … two women. That was it. One woman he loved, and the other woman he … also loved?

He sat up with a start. Where was Lexie? Why had she left him up here on his own, with these big boulders all round him. What if more bits fell down? Would anybody care if he was hurt, or killed? Nobody!

Gradually, however, as he sat regarding the surrounding stones with distaste rather than fear, a picture of two small children returned to him. Two fair-haired children – a boy and a girl. But there was another child's face intruding – a face topped with bright ginger hair, an appealing face but one he didn't want to see.

He closed his eyes, and tried to conjure something else up, and thankfully it was Lexie who came into his inner view. But where was she? Something was wrong somewhere, something far wrong. He had to find her … as soon as he could, before she …

Rising unsteadily to his feet, he skirted the debris and set off down the hill again, his feet, this time, scarcely taking time to touch the ground. But it wasn't dark now. It was morning, early morning. His mind on what he knew was an urgent quest, he broke into a desperate run, gaining further momentum on the last steep slope before the track joined the road.

He didn't see the single-decker bus coming, and even if he had, he would have been unable to stop.

‘Something could have happened. Why don't you phone the shop and find out …?'

‘No, Peg, I know exactly what's happened,' Gwen interrupted. ‘He's changed his mind. He's had time to think, and he still can't forgive me.'

‘Go home, anyway,' her sister pleaded. ‘For David's sake, and Leila's.'

Shaking her head, Gwen murmured, ‘It's for their sakes I'm not going back. Alistair can be very nasty, as I found out, and there would likely be another big scene. I can't put them through that again. In any case, he probably wouldn't let me in.'

‘Haven't you got the doorkey with you?'

‘I didn't think …'

‘I don't suppose it matters.'

After a few minutes' silence, however, Peggy suddenly said, ‘Don't you love him any more, Gwennie?'

She didn't have to think about this. ‘I've never stopped loving him, but it's obvious he doesn't love me now, so what's the point?'

‘The point is,' her sister said brusquely, ‘that you are his wife, and not only that, you have two children to think of.' She paused, then went on, cautiously, ‘Yes, just two. It's easier all round if you forget … Once we take Nicky to America, Alistair might come round.'

‘Do you think so?' A trace of hope appeared in Gwen's eyes.

‘It's possible.'

*    *    *

‘It's funny Dad hasn't phoned yet,' David said, as he and his sister were walking down to catch the bus. ‘He should have got to Lee Green by now.'

‘Maybe Mum and him were too busy talking to notice the time,' Leila comforted. ‘One of them'll likely phone the shop this forenoon.'

‘Leila, what if she doesn't want to come home?'

‘She's probably still getting over Auntie Marge. She wouldn't have known anything about that, remember.'

‘No, I forgot. But Auntie Peggy could have let us know what was going on?'

‘She won't want to interfere. Mum's got to make up her own mind.'

‘I'd have thought she'd be desperate to see us.'

‘You're still too young to understand, David. Come on, we'd better hurry or we'll miss the bus and we'll have to wait an hour for the next one.'

He dutifully speeded up, but his face told of his inner dissatisfication with the way things were turning out. They waited at what was recognized as a courtesy bus stop, but the bus didn't arrive on time, and they argued for some minutes over whether to go home and come back in an hour to get the next bus, or, as David wanted, to start walking in the hope that this bus had been held up and would catch up with them. Leila had finally given in, and they were twenty minutes on their way when a car drew up alongside them.

They knew the driver by sight and he explained that the postman had told him there had been an accident about a mile and a half back. ‘Somebody apparently ran on to the road in front of the bus. Goodness knows how long it'll be before you'll get one, so you'd better hop in and I'll give you a lift into town.'

They accepted gratefully, and while they were speeding towards the city, he said, ‘You're Alistair Ritchie's two, aren't you? I was at school with him, a year younger – Sid MacConnachie.' Gathering from their animated faces that they would be interested in hearing about their father's boyhood, he told them of the mischief Dougal and Alistair had got up to, but he changed the subject when they came to the outskirts of Aberdeen. ‘I was sorry to hear about your Auntie Marge. I only met her once or twice – at the dances for the boys at the camp during the war – but she was full of fun. I wasn't called up for service, you see … graded 4F at my medical.'

‘4F?' asked David, his curiosity aroused. ‘What was that?'

‘Well, you know what A1 means?'

‘The best there is?'

‘Right, and they graded you down from that. 4F was the lowest, practically branding you ready to kick the bucket.' MacConnachie gave a throaty chuckle. ‘They failed you for deafness, flat feet, asthma and that kind of thing … and I had the lot.' He grinned at Leila through the mirror after negotiating the intricacies of Queen's Cross, a meeting of five streets. ‘Where do you want me to drop you? I turn down Holburn Street.'

‘That's fine,' she smiled. ‘Let us off when you come to Holburn Junction. We haven't far to go from there.'

As soon as the car stopped, David started to run, anxious in case his mother or father phoned to tell them what had been decided, while Leila hurried behind him.

It was, however, almost noon before the telephone rang, but when David dived to answer it, it was Lexie Fraser to tell them that their father had been in an accident with the early morning bus and was in the Aberdeen Royal Infirmary, although she was so upset that the boy had difficulty making out what she was saying. ‘Lock up the shop,' she instructed, after obviously pulling herself together, ‘and get a taxi to the hospital, you and Leila. Tell the driver I'll pay when you get here.'

David looked at the receiver for a moment after she rang off, and Leila asked, ‘Well? It was Mum, wasn't it? What did she say? Is she coming home?'