The Grace Girls (66 page)

‘I know that,’ Heather said, smiling back at her. ‘But since we have a few minutes to spare I think I’ll just go and tidy myself up a little bit.’

She went into the bedroom and on an impulse changed from her plain black skirt and cream blouse into the new skirt and soft grey sweater that Claire had bought her yesterday. She sat in front of the mirror and brushed out her glossy chestnut hair then put on a light coat of foundation, s
ome brown mascara and a slick of lipstick. She studie
d herself for a few seconds, then she went back into her little make-up bag and took out an eye-shadow palette and brushed her eyelids over with a light bronze powder that she knew would really emphasise the hazel-brown of her eyes.

‘You look great!’ Claire told her when she went back into the kitchen. ‘The colours make you look all warm and soft – very feminine.’

Just at that, the doorbell sounded and Andy’s key could be heard turning in the lock, followed by the sound of men’s laughter. As Claire rushed out from the kitchen and down the hallway to meet them, Heather finished the last couple of mouthfuls of her wine. Then, she took a deep breath and hoped that she would remember to smile and stay calm if she felt overwhelmed in the strange company of these mature business­men.

She could hear Claire chatting away to them in the hallway, and then she could hear her showing them into the sitting-room. Heather stood still in the kitchen now, wondering whether she should go and meet them or whether she should wait until somebody came for her. She decided to wait.

A few moments later she heard Claire’s heels tapping towards the kitchen. ‘Heather,’ she called, ‘you must come and meet everyone.’

Heather followed her aunt back into the sitting-room, where the two guests were politely on their feet waiting to b
e introduced. Feeling self-conscious amongst all the strangers – because she hardly knew Andy that well – she kept her gaze lowered and was only aware of an imm
ediate impression of typical businessmen: formal dark suits with white shirts and sober ties.

‘Hello, Heather!’ Andy said in a very hearty manner, a welcoming smile on his face. He motioned to the shorter of the two men, a pleasant-looking, sandy-haired man in his fifties who immediately came forward with his hand outstretched. ‘This is Tony Ballantyne.’

‘Delighted to meet you, Heather,’ he said. ‘You’re Andy’s niece, I believe?’

‘Actually, she’s Claire’s niece,’ Andy told him, then guided her over towards the younger man. ‘And this is
Tony’s son – Paul Ballantyne.’ Jokingly, he tapped his finger on the side of his nose. ‘A great asset to his father’s busine
ss.’

Ballantyne
– Heather instinctively reacted to the name. T
hey were obviously not Catholics with such a Scottish-sounding name. Too many years of hearing people like Mona analysing the Irish Catholics and Scots Protestants had obviously left their mark. She lifted her gaze and found herself looking at piercing blue eyes and probably the most handsome boy she had ever seen. His smiling, cheery face was topped by a thick but well-cut head of fair hair.

For just a second their eyes met and she suddenly felt all flustered and tongue-tied. She managed a vague smile, hoping that she looked calm and serene – the way that Claire had advised her. She glanced over to where Claire was standing, then realised her aunt had gone back into the kitchen.

‘Hello, Heather,’ Paul said, taking her hand and shakin
g it. His handshake felt warm and confidently firm for a young man. ‘I’m pleased to meet you.’

‘Hello,’ she said, making herself look up at the deep blue eyes again. ‘I’m pleased to meet you, too.’

Their gaze met fleetingly once again, but in that short time Heather felt a breathless, fluttery sensation in her chest and she had to quickly turn away.

‘Well now!’ Andy said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. ‘Let’s get you all settled down and I’ll bring everyone a drink. We deserve it after the work we’ve done over this weekend. Tony – whiskey and water?’

‘Perfect!’ Tony Ballantyne said, sitting down in one of the armchairs.

‘Paul – beer or wine?’ Andy asked.

‘A glass of beer would be great,’ Paul said, sitting down on the end of the sofa.

‘Heather!’ Andy suddenly said. ‘My apologies, dear – I should have asked you. Ladies first and all that.’

‘I’m OK, actually . . .’ Heather said, moving out toward
s the hallway. ‘I’ll just go into the kitchen now and see if Claire needs a hand.’ And as she turned away, she was acutely conscious of Paul Ballantyne’s eyes on her.

‘Go back in and chat to them,’ Claire told her in the kitchen. ‘Everything’s under control here.’

‘Oh, no,’ Heather whispered. ‘I couldn’t . . . not with three businessmen. I wouldn’t know what to say to them.’

Claire looked at her, her eyebrows raised in surprise. ‘But the younger one – Paul – must be around the same age as yourself.’

Heather took a deep breath. ‘I couldn’t . . .’ she repeated
. ‘I’d rather just stay here until we’re taking the food through.’

‘OK,’ Claire said, nodding understandingly. ‘You can take that dish of roast potatoes and put it on the mats in the centre of the table, because they’ll probably need a few minutes to cool. And you’ll find serving spoons in the top drawer of the sideboard. I think four will probably be enough.’

‘Thanks, Claire, I feel better doing something.’ Heather said, lifting the dish. For a split second she wished she was l
ike Kirsty. Chatting to the three men wouldn’t have bothered
her in the slightest, and she probably would have been in there in the middle of them now, finding everything out about the good-looking Paul Ballantyne.

She walked back through to the sitting-room, trying to look relaxed and confident, which she certainly didn’t feel, only to find it silent and empty. Then she heard voices coming from the front door, and she could hear Tony Ballantyne asking about a building away in the distance. The high-up aspect of the house gave a good view of the surrounding area.

Heather put the dish of potatoes on the table and then went over to the sideboard to get the spoons.

‘It’s a lovely house, isn’t it?’

She turned around to find Paul Ballantyne standing casually at the sitting-room door, glass of beer in hand. The fluttery feeling started in her chest again. ‘Aye,’ she said, ‘it’s really lovely . . .’

‘Where d’you live yourself?’ he asked, coming across the room towards her.

‘Out near Motherwell,’ she said, ‘in a wee village called Rowanhill.’ She looked at him now, thinking that he really was a fine-looking fellow – and completely the opposite in looks to Gerry Stewart. Where Gerry had been of medium height and stocky, Paul Ballantyne was taller and slimmer, and of course fair-headed as opposed to dark.

He nodded, smiling straight at her. ‘I’ve been through there a few times. It’s near Wishaw and Cleland, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right,’ Heather said, thinking that he would know immediately that she didn’t live in a big fancy house like this. He would know that the houses in Rowanhill were mainly very plain houses, two or four to a block. She turned back to the sideboard now, looking for the serving spoons, and sure she could feel his eyes still on her.

He put his glass on the table then pulled out the carver chair at the top of the table, and sat down. ‘Do you come into Glasgow often?’

‘I don’t come out to this part that often,’ she said, ‘but I work in an office in the city centre, so I’m in every day.’ She found the spoons and went back to the table to place them in the centre.

‘Who do you work for?’ he said, sounding very interested.

Heather explained all about Seafreight and the work she did in the office, then he asked where exactly the office was, as he only really knew the Central Station and Queen Street Station and the main shopping areas.

‘What about at night?’ he asked. ‘Do you come in for the dancing or the picures or shows or anything?’

‘Occasionally,’ she hedged, wondering if the Christmas meal out with her office counted, because apart from that, she had only been in the once for the show with Sarah. ‘I came in just after Christmas and stayed the night with a friend out in Govanhill.’ She halted. ‘You have to be careful travelling in and out on trains now with that fella still on the loose.’

Heather felt herself beginning to relax a little more now. Although he was handsome, he was actually quite easy to talk to, especially for someone who obviously had an important job. In fact, his manner was so down-to-earth she was sure that if she had met him in her office or somewhere ordinary like that, she wouldn’t have felt at all intimidated by him.

Paul Ballantyne nodded. ‘We live up in Edinburgh, and although there’s been no evidence of the same man being around out there, Mother still worries about my two younger sisters. I suppose you never know . . . and you can’t blame parents for worrying.’ He paused for a moment, his blond head tilted thoughtfully to the side. ‘Do you like working in Glasgow?’

‘Aye,’ Heather said, wondering why he was so fascinated by the city. ‘I love it. I enjoy the fact that it’s lively and friendly, and I like being near the big
shops and everything.’

‘I think that’s more a female priority than a male’s,’ he said, raising his eyebrows and laughing.

Heather caught her breath as she watched him. He really was
very
attractive – and he had something that she hadn’t found in too many lads before. He was both very nice to look at and obviously intelligent and entertaining and interesting to talk to. So far he seemed to have all the things she would look for in a boyfriend. But she wondered what he would be like if she
really
got to know him. She wondered if after a while the flaws would start to show – the way they had with Gerry.

‘The reason I’m so interested in Glasgow,’ Paul said now, dropping his voice and glancing towards the doorway, ‘is that I’m going to be moving there in the next couple of weeks, and I don’t actually know that many people.’ He rolled his eyes and laughed. ‘Actually, I don’t know anybody apart from Andy and his wife – and I certainly don’t know anybody around my own age . . .’ He looked at her now. ‘Andy has been good enough to offer me to stay here with them for a few weeks until I get a flat or something sorted.’

Heather’s heart lifted at this news, as it meant she would probably see him again if she was out visiting. ‘That will give you a good start,’ she ventured. ‘Give you a chance to get to know Glasgow and decide where you want to live.’

‘I was just thinking,’ he went on, a slight hesitancy suddenly evident in his manner, ‘maybe we could meet up for lunch or something like that when I do start? Would you mind?’

Would I mind going out for lunch with this gorgeous fellow?
Heather thought. She couldn’t imagine minding anything less. He was looking intently at her now, and she felt herself blushing.

‘I wouldn’t mind at all,’ she told him. ‘I would be happy to meet you for lunch. You can just let me know when and where.’ She dropped her gaze back to the table, terrified that he might see just how delighted she was. Then, she suddenly thought that she should really be back in the kitchen helping Claire to carry out the other dishes. If she didn’t move soon, the roast potatoes would start to get cold.

‘Brilliant!’ he said, his whole face lighting up. ‘I’ll get your address and everything before we go back to the hotel tonight.’

Claire came into the sitting-room now carrying the c
asserole dish. ‘Paul, would you give Andy and your father a shout, please?’ she asked. ‘Tell them the meal’s all read
y.’

‘Sure,’ he said, getting up from the table.

‘I’ll help you to carry in the rest of the things now,’ Heather said, following her back into the kitchen.

‘You two seem to be hitting it off well,’ Claire said, lifting her eyebrows and smiling. ‘He seems a lovely young fellow and he’s very good-looking as well, isn’t he?’

Heather gave a little smile and nodded. ‘He’s really nice . . .’

So far
, she thought,
so far
.

Heather was seated with Paul Ballantyne at one side of her and Andy at the other. Whether it was the second glass of wine or just the general cheery atmosphere, she felt more a
t ease and at times found she was actually enjoying herself.

Paul’s father and Andy kept everybody entertained with stories about their respective offices and Claire joined in happily, telling the odd light-hearted story herself. On a couple of occasions when the older three ones were chatting, Paul Ballantyne leaned towards Heather to ask her questions about her office and Glasgow in general.

When the meal was finished, everyone congratulated Claire and then they moved to the more comfortable chairs and sofa to finish off with tea and coffee.

Andy turned to everyone. ‘I have a nice brandy liqueur if anyone fancies a wee drop?’ he offered.

Tony beamed. ‘If you’re having one, I’ll happily join you.’

Then, before anyone else had replied, the phone rang out in the hallway.

‘I’m on my feet, so I’ll get it,’ Andy said, striding out of the room. He came back a few moments later. ‘It’s for you, Heather. It’s Kirsty.’