The Stranger Came (77 page)

'Maitland
bought
this
just
before
we
were
married.
Such
a
beautiful
day,
oh,
how
the
sun shone.
The
art
students
had
hung
their
paintings
on
the
railings
at
the
Botanical
Gardens.
They
did
that
in
Glasgow
then.
What
seems
strange
is
that
a
day
like
that,
all
bright
colours,
flowers
and
girls'
dresses,
sunlight
in
floods,
should
be
tied
to
a
dull
thing
like
this.
Beth,
her
name
was
Beth.
We
heard
she
had
died.’
With
one
hand
she
straightened
the
painting,
making
the
smallest
of
adjustments.
'Isn't
it
strange
how
we
stop
seeing
things?
There
they
are
right
in
front
of
our
noses.
We
don't
see
them.
Maitland
told
me
she
was
dead.’

But
Janet
was
gone,
and
by
the
time
she
went
into
the
front
room
had
taken
her
stand
back
to
the
fire
waiting
for
her.

'It's
quite
warm,'
Lucy
said.
Janet
nodded,
one
sharp
jerk
of
her
chin.
'It's
the
heater,
it's
very
efficient.
Once
the
fire
is
properly
caught
this
place
will
be
like
an
oven.’

'I
have
to
talk
to
you.’

'Too
warm
or
too
cold.
Isn't
it
always
the
same?
I
think
it's
too
soon
to
put
the
heater
off
yet,
don't
you?'

'I'm
sorry
you
haven't
been
well,
but
things
can't
go
on
like
this.’

'But
you
always
have
something.
When
you
come,
I
mean.’

'What?'

'You
always
have
something.
Tea,
coffee,
something
to
drink?'

'No,
Lucy,
not
today.’

Lucy
went
anyway
to
the
sideboard
and
found
a
bottle – the
first
one
that
came
to
hand.
From
the
upper
shelf
she
lifted
out
two
little
tumblers.
'Because
it's
been
so
cold.
It's
too
cold
to
go
back
into
the
kitchen.
So
I
suppose
that's
an
excuse.
We'll
have
a
glass
of –'
She
had
to
stop
and
glance
at
the
bottle.
'It's
gin.
What's
best
with
gin?
Tonic,
of
course.
We
do
have,
yes,'
she
bent
to
search
and
came
up
with
a
small
bottle
of
Schweppes,
'we
can
spoil
ourselves,
just
for
this
once,
since
it's
not
an
ordinary
morning,
I
still
have
to
phone,
for
help…’

But
as
she
began
to
take
the
cap
off
the
bottle
of
gin,
behind
her
Janet
said,
'Why
don't
you
leave
him?'

'Last
night,'
Lucy
said
pouring
the
gin
into
the
glasses
in
turn,
trying
to
judge
it,
not
wanting
to
ask
Janet
if
it
was
enough
or
too
much,
'I
had
the
oddest
dream.
The
thing
is
I
don't
–
well,
I
know
everybody
does,
but
most
times
I
don't
remember,
they
say
it
has
to
do
with
how
quickly
you
wake
up.’
She
added
the
tonic
water
to
Janet's
and
then
stood
with
the
bottle
over
her
own
glass,
not
pouring.
It
was
always
Maitland
who
made
the
drinks.
'I
was
standing
on
the
road
outside
these
high
walls,
brown
not
grey,
you
might
have
thought
they
would
be
grey,
and
a
double
door
big
enough
to
let
in
a
bus
but
it
was
closed.
And
a
little
door
by
the
side
opened
and
a
man
came
out.
This
is
the
prison,
he
said.
But
the
poor
prisoners
–
I
was
crying
–
there
must
be
thousands
and
thousands
of
them.
It
was
such
an
enormous
place.
“Oh,
no,”
he
said,
“there
never
has
been
a
prisoner,
not
ever
one
since
it
was
built.
Just
that
it's
there,
that's
quite
enough,
you
see.”’

She
decided
against
adding
anything
and
took
a
mouthful
of
neat
gin.

'This
isn't
any
good,'
Janet
said,
'you
have
to
face
up
to things.’

Still
there,
Lucy
thought,
as
she
turned
round,
in
front
of
the
fire
legs
spread
I thought it was only men did that getting whatever heat was going, I was hoping she'd gone
.
Face
up
to
her
then,
for
what
it's
worth.

'We
didn't
want
it
to
happen,
neither
of
us
did.’

'Does
Maitland
know
you're
here?'
Obviously not.

'We're
in
love.’

'Lovers,
do
you
mean?'

'In
love
too.
That's
the
truth,
and
it
won't
change however
sorry
we
are.’

'Sorry
for
me,
you
mean.’
She
went
to
sip
again
from
her
glass
but
it
was
emptied.

'It
wasn't
something
we
ever
wanted
to
happen.
But
it has
and
nothing
can
change
it
now.’

'Sorry
for
me
because
I
was
your
friend?'

'We
want
to
be
together,
Lucy
.’

Lucy
thought
about
that.
She
realised
she
hadn't
given Janet
the
gin
and
tonic
she
had
poured
for
her.
Picking
it
up,
she
drank
it
herself.

'If
you
leave
Ewen,
you
may
miss
him
more
than
you think.
Maitland
isn't
a
wife
beater.’

'For
God's
sake!'
Janet
cried,
'can't
we
be
decent?
We've
been
friends.
I
don't
want
that
to
stop.’

Lucy
stared
at
her
in
astonishment.
As
far
as
the
eye
could
tell,
she
gave
every
appearance
of
being
serious.
It
must
be
all
those
books
she's
been
reading,
she
thought,
they've
rotted
her
brains.

'To
be
fair
to
Maitland,'
she
said,
'although
you couldn't
really
call
him
violent,
he
has
just
killed
a
child.’

From
what
followed,
it
could
be
gathered
among
other
things
that
Janet
hadn't
heard
of
this,
which
proved
nothing
except
that
in
the
forty
or
so
hours
since
getting
back
after
the
accident
Maitland
hadn't
been
in
touch with
her.
This, again, proved nothing.
She
seemed
to
think
it
might
though.
Which
perhaps
proved
something.

Left
alone
again,
Lucy
went
back
upstairs
at
once.
She
pressed
the
play
button
on
the
answerphone
and
waited
as
the
light
flickered
and
the
tape
rewound.

'Maitland,'
the
woman's
voice
said,
'it's
Beth.
Don't
die
of
surprise
or
anything
but
I've
been
offered
an
exhibition
in
Edinburgh.
I
want
you
there.
No
excuses.
Ring
me
the
first
chance
you
get.
Love
you.’

Love
you.

Sun
in
the
park
and
Maitland
running
hand
in
hand
with
her
across
the
grass
to
where
railings
were
made
over
into
a
summer
gallery
and
the
painters,
the
young
painters – but
the
world
was
young
then
–
and
Maitland
smiling
at
the
girl:
“Yes
!
five whole pounds
!
though we can't afford it
.”

“
Since we're going to be married!”
Lucy
had
cried.

“We're investing in you
,
we're investing in your talent
.”
And
she
had
never
forgotten
the
wonderful
look
which
the
girl,
in
the
miracle
of
her
talent
and
being
young,
had
given
him
when
he
said
that
to
her.
“This is our investment of faith in you
.
”

He
could
make
that
kind
of
promise
and
be
believed.
He
was
Maitland
then
…