The River Flows On (21 page)

‘We havenae got enough good cups and saucers, Kate,’ Lily said in an agonized whisper, ‘and no’ even a biscuit to gie them a cup o’ tea anyway. What’ll we do?’ she wailed.

‘It’s all right, Mammy, I’ll go down and borrow some cups and saucers from Mrs Baxter and ask her if she’s got anything in her tins.’ She could be confident enough about that. Agnes Baxter devoted one day per week to baking for her family – enough tasty treats to last the week, kept fresh in airtight biscuit tins. ‘She’ll maybe have some empire biscuits or shortbread left.’

She patted her mother awkwardly on the arm. It was a strange feeling this, a mixture of irritation and sympathy. How could she expect a woman like her mother to cope with the likes of Suzanne Douglas? ‘We can do a baking the morn and give it back to her then.’

‘Aye,’ said Lily, nodding her head vigorously, ‘that’s what to do – but Pearl and me’ll go.’

‘Och, Mammy,’ wailed Pearl in her turn, ‘I want to stay and talk to the visitors.’

Lily gave her a swift clout on the ear. ‘Kate’ll talk to them – and Jessie. They’ve both got the gift of the gab wi’ folk like yon.’ She gave Kate a look which made it clear that this was not a compliment.

Jack Drummond stood up as Kate walked back into the kitchen, then sank once again into her father’s chair. Marjorie sat opposite him, chatting animatedly with Neil, who’d perched himself on the old stool beside her. Suzanne Douglas sat on an upright chair between them, looking round the shabby room with a little smile playing on her lipsticked mouth.  She looked like an exotic bird of paradise in a farmyard full of old brown hens.

Mr Asquith, rudely evicted from his place in front of the range by the arrival of the visitors, jumped onto Jack Drummond’s lap.

‘Hallo, cat,’ he said, glancing down and stroking the beast with his beautiful hands. He looked up suddenly, catching Kate unawares. Blushing, she turned away. Seeing Jack sitting in her mother’s kitchen was strangely unsettling. When it came to watching him smooth the cat’s fur with those long elegant fingers, unsettling didn’t begin to cover how it made her feel. Suzanne caught her eye. Kate didn’t care at all for the look the girl gave her.

She couldn’t know – could she? By tacit agreement, she and Jack had kept their developing relationship to themselves. Kate wasn’t quite sure why. Except that she was more comfortable having him drop her a few streets away when he brought her home from their Sunday-afternoon outings. Except that she was happier allowing people to think that those afternoons were spent with a group of friends, and not one particular one.

Kate had a shrewd idea that Pearl had her suspicions – maybe Robbie, too. She wasn’t sure. It was ages since she’d had a decent conversation with him. They no longer went to the pictures together and they had lost the old camaraderie. Since she had met Jack Drummond.

Lily and Pearl returned, bringing Robbie with them. He walked stiffly into the room and Kate guessed that Lily had asked him to come and help out in the conversational line. More introductions were made. Marjorie looked up at Robbie with a genuine smile, Suzanne tried a vampish look from behind her blackened eyelashes and Jack extended a languid hand. ‘So you’re the famous Robbie!’

If looks could kill, thought Kate, I would be lying dead on the floor, whether there’s enough space or not. Robbie’s dark brows, meeting in a reproachful line, spelled the message out quite clearly. Kate Cameron had discussed him with another man, and he didn’t like that one little bit.

Not that he had anything to worry about. Not really. Jack Drummond didn’t go in for deep conversations. Their afternoons together were about having fun, he declared. They laughed and joked and enjoyed the countryside. Kate had started letting him kiss her – but nothing more than that. ‘Fun,’ she would remind him, pushing him away. ‘Remember?’

‘Are you artistic like Kate, Mr Baxter?’ Suzanne was asking, laying a hand on Robbie’s jacket sleeve as he settled into a seat beside her, hurriedly placed there by Jessie. He flashed her a quick smile of thanks over his shoulder as he sat down.

‘I’m a cabinet-maker, Miss Douglas,’ answered Robbie. ‘I don’t know whether you consider that artistic.’ The smile he’d thrown to Jessie faded as he looked at Suzanne. One lock of dark hair, as usual, flopped onto his forehead. A kitchen full of handsome men, thought Kate, even if one of them is only just managing not to glower like a thundercloud. Pearl’ll be in seventh heaven.

‘A cabinet-maker, how fascinating!’ exclaimed Suzanne Douglas, her arm resting lightly on Robbie’s. ‘Do tell me more.’ She’ll be purring soon, thought Kate sourly. She could give Mr Asquith a run for his money. Lost in the thought, she looked up and found Jack Drummond’s eyes on her. When he raised one of Mrs Baxter’s best china cups to her in salute Kate had the feeling he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

Pearl was in seventh heaven, her eyes nearly popping out of her head. Suzanne was dividing her attention between Robbie and her, basking in the younger girl’s unabashed admiration of her clothes and make-up. She glanced away occasionally, smiling at the other men in the room. Anything in trousers, thought Kate, and was absurdly cheered up when she saw the expression on Robbie’s face grow more and more disapproving as he watched Suzanne Douglas.

Marjorie, she had to admit, seemed to be taking a genuine interest in her father. She’d even managed to draw a terrified Lily into the conversation, asking her the occasional gentle question so she wouldn’t feel left out. Marjorie was talking to her father now about his childhood in the Highlands.

Jack, on the other hand, had hardly participated in the conversation, just sat there looking around him, taking in the shabby, cramped room, the drying clothes, Granny snoring gently in the corner. Maybe this hadn’t only been Suzanne’s idea. Had they both thought it would be fun to come and gawp, as they might have gone to Wilson’s Zoo in Sauchiehall Street to look at the animals?

Robbie, who had also dropped out of the conversation, saw it too. Kate could tell that by the look on his face. Like her, he was getting angry. As soon as was reasonably polite, he rose and excused himself.

Kate followed him, murmuring something about seeing him out. Opening the big front door, she went out after him onto the landing, pulling the door shut behind her.

‘Don’t go yet.’

Ready to head off down the stairs, he looked at her quizzically.

‘Why not? You’ve got your smart friends in there, haven’t you? What do you need me for?’ But he stayed all the same, leaning on the cool painted wall of the landing, tilting his unruly head back against it and letting out a long breath before he spoke again.

‘I’m surprised they didn’t bring us bags of monkey nuts. See if we would do some tricks for them.’

‘Robbie...’

‘What?’ His eyes were fixed on the long window on the opposite wall. During the day it flooded the stairwell with light. There was nothing to be seen out of it now but the moonless night sky.

‘What?’ he asked again. He was very pale in the dim light of the gas-mantle above his head, his eyes and hair dark against his white skin.

Kate shook her head. The two of them had always had the uncanny tendency to share the same thoughts. She couldn’t disagree with what he’d just said.

Robbie looked at her for a moment. Then he let out another long breath.

‘I’ll be off, then.’

Kate took them both by surprise when she suddenly leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek. His skin was cool under her lips.

He went completely still. ‘What was that for?’

‘It wasn’t for anything It was just for you.’

‘A farewell kiss?’ he suggested, his voice raw-edged. ‘Goodbye, Robbie, and thanks? It’s been swell?’

‘Robbie...’

‘Don’t bother, Kate. Go back to your friends. They’ll be wondering where you are.’

Dismayed, she stood and watched him go down the stairs. He didn’t look back up at her.

Chapter 12

‘So, the gallant Robbie is my rival for your affections? Is it his witty conversation or his dashing character which appeals to you most?’

‘Don’t make fun of him.’

Jack, sitting beside her in the confined space of the Morris Cowley, turned those very blue eyes on her.

‘Oh, so that’s how the wind blows, it it?’

‘No, it is not. I just don’t like you talking my friends like that.’

Before he could stop her, she had the door open and was crunching noisily over the shingle on her way to the edge of Loch Lomond. When she got there she stopped and looked across to the mountains on the other side. It was the middle of March, a bright and sunny day, but cold. She wrapped her arms about herself.

She heard footsteps on the stones behind her and then two strong arms slid round her waist, under her own. His voice was a warm murmur against the chilly flesh of her ear.

‘Cold, Kate? Why don’t you come back to the car and let me do something about that?’

Angrily, she broke away from him and starting walking along the shore. They were at Millarochy Bay, north of Balmaha on the eastern and quieter side of the loch. Once the weather got warmer it would be busy on a Sunday afternoon, full of campers and cyclists, but today it was deserted. Since the very beginning, Jack had shown a preference for quiet and lonely places. Even when they went in somewhere for lunch or afternoon tea, as they had today at Drymen, he chose the quietest hotel or inn he could find.

‘Kate.’ He had caught up with her, laid a restraining hand on her arm. She whirled round, her voice quivering with rage.

‘Are you ashamed of me? Because I come from a poor family?’

He took out his gold cigarette case, extracted a cigarette and lit up. Kate watched him hungrily. Every gesture had an easy grace which spoke volumes about his background and the easy wealth with which he’d been brought up.

‘Your background doesn’t matter to me one little bit. Quite the reverse, in fact. I think you’ve done marvellously to get on as well as you have. You’ll probably never have any idea how much I admire you. For sticking to your principles, among other things.’

She met his blue eyes. Sometimes he said things she didn’t understand. Oh, she knew what the words meant, but she couldn’t figure out whether he was being his usual determinedly light-hearted self, or if something deeper was being said. He dropped his cigarette onto the beach, his eyes following it, so she couldn’t see the expression in them.

‘Maybe I’m ashamed of myself sometimes.’ His fair head snapped up. ‘After all, my little Red Clydesider thinks I’m a wastrel, doesn’t she? A capitalist and a parasite?’

‘I think,’ Kate said severely, hugging herself and trying to suppress a shiver, because it really was cold, ‘that you should get yourself a job. You’re an educated and intelligent man, after all.’

‘And if I - distasteful as the prospect is - got myself a job, would you look on me differently?’

Kate’s stomach lurched. What was he asking? There was such a huge gulf between them ...

‘Do you know why I really want to keep our outings to ourselves?’ he asked.

Still hugging herself, Kate shook her head.

‘Because when we’re together like this, and there’s no one else around, we can be ourselves - Kate and Jack - with nothing to separate us. With you, I can be truly myself - and I’d like to thank you for that.’ His voice was husky.

Kate’s anger evaporated in an instant. Closing the distance between them, she lifted her hands to rest on his upper arms, her gloved fingers sinking into the warm wool of his overcoat.

‘I want you to be yourself. And you can tell me anything you like -really you can. You don’t have to bottle things up.’ If only she could make him see that, encourage him to show her the man she’d only caught glimpses of up till now, the vulnerable boy behind the confident exterior.

A wistful smile flitted across his mouth as he looked down at her. ‘So earnest, my little Clydebank girl. So sweet. But I won’t tell you sad things. You have enough of those at home. And you forgive me, don’t you? For wanting to keep you to myself, for landing on your family, for being a swine sometimes?’