Presence of Mind (26 page)

‘But –' He seemed to have difficulty speaking. ‘You agreed – originally –'

‘To the marriage of convenience? I'd no choice, had I? It was all you offered me: take it or leave it.'

He reached blindly for my hand and gripped it. I could actually feel the bones crushing together as though they would splinter. He said in a choked voice, ‘All these years, and I never –'

I said softly, ‘With luck there are still plenty of years left.' I don't think either of us had any idea what time it was when, through the mists of sleep, we heard Mrs Rose calling. ‘Mr Tenby, sir! Are you there? Madam?'

‘Oh lord!' Lance propped himself up and looked down at me. ‘All is discovered my darling! We are undone!'

‘Are you there, Mr Tenby?' Her voice was nearer.

‘Yes, Rosie, we're here.' He pulled on his slacks and opened the door. Beyond him from where I lay I could see the silver sheen of dew heavy on the grass. Then her voice came again, close at hand.

‘It's the phone for you, sir. Mr MacIntyre. Says it's urgent.' I sat up suddenly, fumbling for my clothes, hearing Lance's voice change. ‘What time is it, for pity's sake?'

‘Just gone five, sir. I couldn't think where you were He brushed past her and ran barefoot over the wet grass, I close behind him.

‘Gordon? What –? Oh
not
No!'

‘What is it?' I gasped, pulling the receiver away from his ear so I could hear the voice at the other end of the wire.

‘– the Western,' Gordon was saying. ‘They're operating right away. Old Cameron signed the consent form.'

I snatched the phone. ‘Gordon, what's happened?'

‘Appendicitis, Ann. It's – all right. She's in good hands. I'll have a car at the airport waiting for you.'

I turned to Lance, shivering and sick. He said flatly, ‘That's how Ailsa died.'

‘Not twice,' I said judderingly. ‘Please God, not twice.'

I moved through the following hours with the fluidity of a dream. Lance loved me. Briony was even now undergoing an operation. Neither fact, though I repeated them endlessly to myself, seemed believable. Occasionally, in the senseless repetition, they wound themselves about each other unintelligibly. Lance was having an operation. Briony loved me. But was it Briony, lying there in a hospital bed, or Ailsa, as it had been the last time? And if it was still Ailsa, was the eventual outcome predestined? I knew, though he made no comment, that this was Lance's great fear.

Heathrow seemed almost familiar now, but still blessedly impersonal, still carrying on its normal daily business despite the dizzy swing from heights to depths which plagued our lesser lives. The plane rose gracefully into the cloudless blue of a perfect summer day. Would it be Briony's last?

There was a burning sensation behind my eyes. Beside me, Lance's hands gripped the wheel of the hired car in a desperate attempt to conceal from me the shaking which had claimed him. Appendicitis wasn't usually serious, I assured myself. Even so, there had been no mistaking the concern in Gordon's voice and Lance's reaction had been devastating. Was it because all this had happened before?

A lorry swooshed past with a warning blare of its horn. I said automatically, ‘Careful, darling. Keep to the left.'

The hospital loomed up, grey and forbidding, and the stomach-churning smell of disinfectant and cooking reached out for us. In the foyer Mr and Mrs Cameron came forward to greet us, dumbly reaching for our hands.

I heard myself say, ‘Where is she?'

It was Lance who answered me. ‘First floor. Robert Burns Ward.'

My startled eyes went to the Camerons for confirmation and, equally startled, they nodded. Lance caught my hand and together we ran up the shallow flight of stairs.

‘Mr and Mrs Tenby? It's all right for you to go in now. She's at the far end, in the bed behind the screen.'

We hurried between the rows of high iron beds, each with its chart at the foot, our eyes fixed on the screen in the far corner. Let her be all right! Oh, let her be all right!

She looked pathetically small and defenceless lying there. Her eyes were closed, the lashes casting shadows on her round cheeks. And as we stood looking down at her, a voice – was it just in my head? – said softly, ‘Jamie! I knew fine you'd come!'

Lance pulled a chair up to the bed and took hold of her hand.

‘Listen carefully, darling. You know that I loved you; nothing can change that. I owe you a great deal, and I intend to put the record straight about the painting, but I'm sorry if my selfishness was responsible for bringing you back. You're free now, Ailsa, and so am I. We've gone full circle. But Briony mustn't be hurt any more because of us. Ann, I love her very much and we want her back. Permanently. You do understand, don't you?'

I moved over to him, putting my hand on his shoulder, and we both stared intently down at the face on the pillow. And as we watched, the little tremor came and went for the last time. Briony stirred, moved her head slightly, and her eyes flickered open.

She murmured drowsily, ‘Oh, there you are. I dreamt –' And then her eyes opened fully and she looked about her in growing fear. ‘Daddy, where am I? What's happening?'

I said brokenly, because Lance couldn't speak, ‘It's all right, darling. Everything's going to be all right now.'

Down in the foyer the Camerons were waiting. Lance said exuberantly, ‘It's all right? She's going to be all right!'

‘Aye, we know that,' Mr Cameron replied gravely. ‘It was a straightforward case, thank God. Not like Ailsa's.'

Not like Ailsa's. Did that mean – could they already know –?

Mrs Cameron said quietly, ‘I'm glad you've got your lassie back, Mrs Tenby. We lost ours a long time ago. We must keep remembering that.'

Lance said with difficulty, ‘Mrs Cameron, there's something I must tell you. I hardly know how, after all this time.'

‘If it's about the painting, spare yourself, Lance. We've known all along.'

‘You –?'

‘Aye. But it was the way Ailsa wanted it, and no concern of ours.'

The old man's eyes softened. ‘If you've been blaming yourself unduly you can stop now. It may have put you on the first rung of the ladder, but you've climbed to the top on your own merit.'

‘Will you at least let me give it to you? I've had no right –'

‘We don't want it, laddie. It's not a happy painting. It frightened us when she was working on it. It almost seemed as though she expected to die.' Hadn't Max said something like that? ‘I doubt it's brought you and your family much happiness. Do what you like with it. We want no part of it. However, if you've some of her other canvases you could spare –'

‘Of course. I'll go through them as soon as we get home.'

‘What will you do with it?' I asked Lance later. We were in the bedroom I had used before at the MacIntyres.

‘Hand it over to Christy's, I think, and let them get the best price they can for it. Then I'll send the cheque to charity. But first I'll have to admit I didn't paint it.' He went over to the window and stood staring out at the distant hills. ‘Dear old Scotland. It's right this business should be finished with here, where it all started.'

Elspeth's voice reached us from the foot of the stairs. ‘Dinner's ready!'

‘And so am I!' Lance commented. ‘I don't know when I last felt so hungry. It's probably relief from all the strain and stress. I'm actually free of it, after twenty years!'

He came across and kissed me gently. ‘Thanks for waiting for me, darling.'

My heart was too full to reply. Hand in hand we went downstairs to dinner.