Faith (70 page)

‘I can’t help thinking you deserve more than she can ever give you.’

‘What else is there for me?’ he said with a bleak look. ‘Jackie was the love of my life, I know I’ll never find anyone else like her. So I may as well stay in my own home looking after Peggie, which at least makes me feel useful, rather than living alone with nothing but sad memories.’

‘Jackie cast a long shadow,’ Laura sighed. ‘I don’t know how I’m going to get used to the idea she’s gone for good either. But we’ve got to, Ted. We can feel privileged that we shared so much with her, but I don’t think she’d approve of either of us moping for ever. Anyway, I ought to go now. Thank you so much for looking after Barney for me, and I’m sorry I had to dig up the geraniums.’

‘I’ll take them home and put them in the greenhouse for the winter. I’ll keep on popping back just to keep an eye on the grave and tidy it up,’ he said. ‘But what are your plans now?’

She told him that she was going back to London.

‘And Stuart?’ he asked. ‘Will he be going with you?’

Laura found herself telling him about how it was with her and Stuart and what Angie had said.

‘I agree with your friend,’ he said and he took her hand in his and squeezed it in understanding. ‘It was patently obvious to me how he felt about you. I think the only reason he hasn’t voiced his feelings is because he’s afraid of rejection. We men can be far more insecure than women, you know,’ he said with a little chuckle.

‘The trouble is I can’t be sure
how
I really feel,’ she explained. ‘Right now I do think we were meant for each other, but what if I’m mistaken, and it all goes wrong? I couldn’t bear to hurt him again.’

‘Nothing of any value in this life comes with any guarantees,’ Ted said with a smile. ‘You just have to have faith.’

‘He told me I had to have faith in him when he first came to see me in prison,’ Laura said thoughtfully. ‘He didn’t let me down either.’

‘Go and find him, Laura. You’ve got nothing to lose except a bit of pride.’

He picked up the bag of geraniums and walked with her to her car. ‘Will you let me know how you are from time to time?’ he asked, fishing in his pocket and taking out a card. ‘Jackie would’ve been so proud of the way you’ve handled this terrible business. I see no bitterness in you, and that proves what a remarkable woman you are.’

‘And you, Ted, are a remarkably lovely man,’ she said, putting her arms around him and hugging him. ‘God bless and I hope it does work out with you and your wife. She’s a very lucky woman to have you.’

Right up until she had nearly reached the Forth Bridge, Laura intended to go over it, on through Edinburgh and then take the A7 towards Carlisle, stopping off somewhere for a day or two. But when she saw the road sign for Stirling something stirred inside her. She didn’t want to go to the Borders; the Highlands was where she wanted to be.

It was gone six when she reached the small town of Callander, and remembering that beyond that was open countryside where it might be hard to find a guest house with vacant rooms, she decided to stop there for the night.

She found a guest house on the main street, checked in, then went for a walk through the small town and had fish and chips in a cafe before returning to her room for the night.

Brae Bank was the kind of guest house Jackie had always loved to send up. Orange candlewick bedspreads, rose-strewn chintz curtains, small, thin, scratchy towels, soap in a dispenser on the bathroom wall and rather battered furniture. Laura knew without testing it that the mattress had seen better days, and the pillows would be lumpy. But it kind of pleased her, for it was good to be alone in an impersonal room. She didn’t need to make chit-chat with anyone, explain herself or be grateful for anything, and she had the silence she’d craved so often in prison.

She made herself a cup of tea, smiling at the tiny packet of Highland shortbread, which was almost certainly made somewhere like Slough, and bore no resemblance to the real McCoy. She had glanced into the dining room downstairs and noted there were tartan tablecloths and a stuffed stag’s head above the fireplace. She guessed there would be some haggis dished up at breakfast too.

The bed creaked ominously when she sat down on it and she smiled again, wondering how many couples had been too afraid to go into the dining room after a night of noisy passion on it. But then, the couple of other guests she’d glimpsed as she booked in looked far too old for any hanky-panky.

Taking her map out of her bag, she began to study the area around Oban, wondering where the house Stuart was working on might be. She saw that Loch Awe, just below the town, was vast, some sixteen miles long at least, so she was unlikely to find his house there just by chance.

But the road to Oban passed through a place called Taynuilt, and as it appeared to be the biggest village near the loch there was a fair chance Stuart might have been into the pub there. That was where she’d make for tomorrow.

Laura woke the following morning feeling completely rested, and to her surprise the breakfast in the guest house was superb. After buying postcards to send to her sisters and Angie, she set off again.

She had been through the Trossachs on the way to the Highlands many times before with Stuart, but twenty years on she found it even more spectacular and majestic than she remembered. Each turn of the road seemed to present an even more incredible view, and several times she had to pull over because she was overcome with emotion at the splendour. The bright blue sky was reflected in the vast expanses of shimmering water in the lochs, and the autumn colouring of the trees and the height of the hills all added up to unforgettable beauty.

She rang Patrick from a pub in Crianlarich and asked him if he had an address or phone number for Stuart, but as she expected, he hadn’t. Stuart had only said he’d be in touch before long. Patrick did offer David’s number, but she was loath to ring there for fear of looking needy.

She didn’t actually mind the prospect of looking for a needle in a haystack. The weather was beautiful and she was happy to be alone just exploring. Even if she didn’t find him, it wouldn’t matter, she’d just look upon it as a holiday.

When she came to Loch Awe, she pulled over to look at it, thinking how well named it was, for it was awesome. She was at the most northerly end of it, and although it was quite narrow, perhaps not more than a mile across at the widest point, it stretched on lengthwise almost to infinity.

There was a pub in Taynuilt, and she found a place to stay for the night close by. Unlike the guest house in Callander, it was lovely, with a huge, comfortable bed and quiet, tasteful decor.

‘Have you ever met a man called Stuart Macgregor?’ Laura asked the young fresh-faced barmaid at the pub. As it was Friday night the public bar was crowded with men, and she couldn’t bring herself to go in there alone, so she was staying in the saloon bar. ‘He’s mid-forties, tall, brown hair, from Edinburgh. I heard he’d come up to Oban to renovate a big house. I think he’s bought a place on Loch Awe too.’

The girl shook her head, but Laura guessed she wouldn’t notice any man over thirty, not even one as striking as Stuart. ‘But I only work here at weekends,’ she added more helpfully. ‘Ask Molly, she knows everyone.’ The girl pointed out an older woman pulling a pint in the public bar.

Laura didn’t get a chance to question the other barmaid until some time later, when many of the customers in the public bar had gone home. By then she’d had a further two glasses of wine and a bowl of chilli. Seeing Molly come over to the saloon side of the bar, Laura jumped up and ordered another drink, then asked her question, giving a little more detail.

‘I cannae think of anyone.’ Molly frowned. ‘You say his name is Stuart Macgregor and he stays in Edinburgh?’

‘That’s right,’ Laura said eagerly. ‘Could you ask for me in the public bar? I’m too embarrassed to go in on my own.’

Some twenty minutes passed and Laura was about to give up and go back to the guest house, when a short, wiry man of about fifty, wearing a woolly hat and working clothes, came into the saloon.

‘You were asking after an Edinburgh man?’ he inquired. ‘I delivered some timber and roofing tiles to a man along in Kilchrenan by the loch. I dinnae ken if he was from Edinburgh, he put me in mind of a southerner. But he did say he had work in Oban.’

Laura established that the man in question was tall, the right age, and she had no doubt that to a Highlander Stuart’s accent was no longer true Scots because of the years he’d been away. But what clinched it for her was that this delivery of timber and tiles had taken place just two days earlier.

Sleep eluded Laura that night. She’d studied her map and discovered that Kilchrenan was only about five or six miles away, and the chances were that ever-practical Stuart would see mending his own roof as a priority and be working on it this weekend.

But now she was so close, she was scared. What if everyone else’s opinions of his feelings for her were wrong? Patrick and David had never given her as much as a hint; all she had was Meggie’s and Angie’s views and they hardly knew Stuart.

Maybe he’d just been acting like a Boy Scout, wanting to help her for old times’ sake and because he couldn’t resist rescuing a damsel in distress. She’d said herself that he would go once his job was complete, she had really believed that. So what changed her mind?

She couldn’t think of anything he’d said or done that had given her reason to think he hoped for a future with her. In fact his manner after the appeal had suggested he was coming up here to avoid any further involvement.

What could be more scary to a man than a woman he didn’t want to see turning up on his doorstep?

What could she offer him anyway? She was fifty, too old to have his child. She hadn’t even given herself enough time to recover from all she’d been through, much less to find out what she really wanted. She was clutching desperately to sweet memories of one summer of love, over twenty years ago. And perhaps that was evidence of how badly damaged she really was.

She woke early to see the guest-house garden sprinkled with frost and the sky an ominous grey. That seemed like an omen and made her decide it was time she grew up, packed her bag and drove back to London.

Her future was there. She could throw herself into the property in Bromley with her sisters. When probate was settled, she would sell Brodie Farm and open a dress shop. She knew fashion, she was good at selling. She’d buy a nice little house somewhere pretty like Downe, Chislehurst or Knockholt, become a good aunt to Ivy’s boys, and perhaps try to make it up with her brother Freddy.

An hour later at eight, having showered, dressed in jeans and a thick sweater and eaten a small breakfast, she drove away from Taynuilt, speeding along the Pass of Brander by the River Awe towards Dalmally. She planned to take the A82 which went down past Loch Lomond and keep right on down to Glasgow and the motorway.

She had gone some twenty-five miles or more and was approaching Crianlarich where the road forked either to the A85 towards Stirling or the A82 to Glasgow, when ‘Layla’, by Derek and the Dominoes, came on the radio.

It was the one record which encapsulated all her and Stuart’s feelings that first summer they’d spent together. It had been in the Top Ten, and every time they turned the radio on it was playing. Throughout the last twenty years it had always had the power to take her right back to Castle Douglas, and tears would spring into her eyes as she remembered Stuart learning to play it. He would laugh and say he was no Eric Clapton, but to her he was a star in his own right. She wondered if he was listening to the radio right now, stopping to play air guitar along with it, as he had always done. Would he think of her, his Layla?

Glancing in the mirror to check the road was clear, she spun the car round in a U-turn. She had to go back and find him.

20

Back at Taynuilt, Laura took the turning off to Kilchrenan she’d spotted earlier in the morning as she left the guest house. She found it to be a narrow, winding lane, but after going through some dense woodland she came out on a hill and she could see Loch Awe below her.

The scale of her map suggested it was around five or six miles from Taynuilt, though it seemed to her that she’d already gone that far. There weren’t many houses on the road, but she stopped at all of them which were in a poor state of repair, looking for anything that might suggest it could be Stuart’s.

He had said it was by the loch, which to her meant right on the bank, but then she realized he might have said it had a view of the loch, and almost all of these had.

The village of Kilchrenan turned out to be tiny, just a school, a post office and a few cottages, but she couldn’t see anyone to ask for directions, and she was anxious now as according to the map the road ended when it came to the loch.

Just as she reached the loch, the sun broke through. She pulled up and stared in wonder, for it was more ravishingly beautiful than any other lochs she’d seen. It wasn’t very wide – she could see a lone house on the opposite side very clearly – but it was so vast lengthwise she could see no end to it. Pine and fir trees grew on the hills around it, going right down to the water’s edge, but between them were other deciduous trees – elms, rowans and beech. The early frost and the brisk wind were making the leaves tumble, and the ground was a carpet of yellow, orange, russet and brown.

The road she’d come by led only to a hotel, but to her right was a single-track lane along the loch bank, so she turned that way. Some of the houses she passed were rather grand, with large, well-kept gardens and small jetties on the loch, others were tiny and looked like holiday homes, but she could see nothing as dilapidated as Stuart had said his was and she was beginning to lose hope.

Ahead was a dense copse of fir trees, the track curling around them away from the loch. But as she came to the end of the copse, there, some hundred yards ahead, she saw a traditional stone croft, and a man was up on the roof mending it.

A surge of absolute joy welled up inside her. Even though the sun was in her eyes, preventing her from seeing the man clearly, she knew it was Stuart by his shape alone. She would recognize those broad shoulders and slim hips anywhere. It was ironic that he should be on a roof as he was when she’d first met him, and her heart began to pound with a mixture of excitement and trepidation.