Face the Wind and Fly (8 page)

‘Ah Kate – libraries,’ he smiled, as if the one word explained everything.

Exhaustion fought back as the quick kick of the whisky faded. She couldn’t think about anything any more. Her shoulders hunched and her hands tightened round her glass. This morning Andrew had more or less told her she was an outsider in her own village. After this evening’s meeting, she believed he might be right. It was not a pleasant feeling.

‘I got you a present.’

‘Really? Why?’

‘Wait there.’

When he came back, he was holding a small box. She stared at it. Once, many years ago, he held out his hand like that and on it had been a ring, winking and blinking at her in shades of heliotrope and crimson, silver, apple and cerulean – the diamond that bound them together, in love. Now she opened the box curiously and found a brooch, a sixteen-pointed star in gold, embellished with tiny pearls, and amethysts, and emeralds.

He took it out. ‘Do you like it? I dropped into an antiques fair and it spoke to me. It’s a piece of suffragette jewellery.’

‘How do you know?’

‘The woman on the stall explained. They’re the suffragette colours – purple, white and green. I thought of you, that’s why I bought it.’

‘I don’t see the connection.’

‘The suffragettes had beliefs. They fought for a cause and they fought with passion. Got it?’

That brought a smile to Kate’s lips. ‘Oh, Andrew.’

‘Here. Let me pin it on.’

She could smell his Paco Rabanne aftershave as he leant closer, concentrating on the catch. She liked it on him, though it did strike her as odd, because he only usually shaved once a day.

‘Thank you, darling.’ Her arm curled round his neck and she pulled him to her, her finger tracing the outline of his cheek. The high, sculpted bones still defined his face as beguilingly as they had sixteen years ago. Age cannot wither him. ‘I love—’ she started to whisper, before he stopped her with a kiss.

Chapter Nine

‘Charlotte? Did I wake you?’

‘Hi Kate.’

She could hear Charlotte yawn. She was clearly stepping lazily into Saturday morning.

‘I did wake you. Sorry.’

‘What time is it?’

‘Half past nine.’

‘Christ, really? That’s what happens when Georgie’s on a sleepover and Ian’s offshore. Bliss.’

‘You’re making me feel even more guilty.’

‘Don’t. Something up?’

Kate played with the brooch Andrew’d given her last night and thought of the aftershave. Flowers … unexplained absences … phone calls that ended abruptly … ‘I’m not sure. Can we talk?’

Charlotte yawned again. ‘Why don’t you come round? Just give me time to shower and dress.’

‘Thanks, Charl. Half an hour?’

The Herons was just down the road from Willow Corner, but it was an era apart in architecture and in spirit. Willow Corner was Georgian and The Herons, Victorian. The outside of The Herons was gray stone, Willow Corner was painted a delectable dark rose. The rooms in The Herons were bigger and were rectangular rather than square. The ceilings were higher and had elaborate cornices. Charlotte had a taste for the contemporary – with carefully conserved period features, naturally – while Kate felt that a more traditional look was right for her older property. For all the differences, though, The Herons was like a second home to her. When Ninian was little, he’d played with Georgie Proctor all the time. There was something comfortable about the familiarity of it all, just as there was something vital about the solidity of her friendship with Charlotte.

Kate reached the front door of The Herons at ten precisely, full of restless energy. ‘Hi. I brought biscuits.’ She held out a tin.

‘You didn’t need to—’

Charlotte knew what a bad cook she was. It was a standing joke between them. ‘Mrs Gillies made them.’

‘Aha. Then how can I refuse.’ Charlotte stood aside. ‘Come on in, I’ve got the kettle on. What’s up? Has Dad caught up with you? I’ve been trying to hold him back.’

Kate laughed. ‘Your Dad? I knew he didn’t like wind farms, but my goodness, he’s certainly determined this one won’t go ahead. I had to face the Community Council last night.’

‘Oh Kate,
sorry
.’ Charlotte apologised, as if she was personally responsible for her father’s views. ‘Was it hellish?’

‘I can handle your father, Char.’ Kate twisted the old cotton scarf she’d pulled on, a favourite dusky pink with cream polka dots. ‘Oh Lord, sorry, I didn’t mean that to sound so dismissive. I just meant, it’s all in a day’s work.’

‘I know. You’re Miss Competence personified.’

‘You make it sound like a bad thing.’

‘Don’t mind me, I’m just jealous. My organisational skills are nil. Here—’ Charlotte handed her a mug, ‘—and for goodness sake, sit down, you’re driving me nuts walking round and round the kitchen like a blue-arsed fly.’

Kate sat. She looked around at the bright kitchen with its pure white walls, enlivened by the one in lime green. Everything was chrome and glass and white granite, so unlike her homely kitchen with its small windows and Aga and traditional oak units. ‘You’ve known Andrew and me a long time.’

‘Oh.’

‘Oh what?’

‘It’s
that
kind of chat. I thought it would be about the Summerfield project. What’s wrong?’

‘Do you think it’s likely that he would have an affair?’

Charlotte startled Kate by laughing.

‘What? What’s so funny?’

‘He had an affair with
you
, ducky.’

‘Yes, but that was different.’ She waited. Charlotte said nothing. ‘I mean, we fell in love,’ she added, surprised by the silence.

‘Yeah, I know. Prince Charming and Snow White all rolled into one.’

Kate put down her coffee and stared at Charlotte. Was she being sarcastic? ‘It was a bit like a fairy tale. I remember pinching myself a hundred times to check I wasn’t dreaming.’

‘And found you weren’t.’

‘What
is
wrong with you, Char?’ Kate frowned.

‘Wrong? Nothing. Why? Were you expecting me to sit back and reassure you and say that of course Andy’s not having an affair? I can’t do that. Not because he
is
, but because I’d hardly be likely to know about it if he was screwing the entire Scottish membership of the WRI.’

‘I suppose not.’

‘What’s sparked this off, anyway?’

‘Initially, something Ninian said.’

‘Yes?’

‘He said Andrew’s been acting weirdly.’

‘And has he?’

‘I hadn’t noticed, no.’

‘And what does Andy say?’ Charlotte was the only person Kate knew who called her husband Andy.

‘I haven’t mentioned it.’

‘I thought you guys talked about everything.’

‘We do, we—’
We used to,
she corrected herself in surprise. When had they last had any kind of frank discussion? ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

‘Like what?’ Charlotte lowered her raised eyebrow and sipped her coffee. ‘You’re worrying about Andy because of something Ninian said. Is that reasonable?’

She said slowly, ‘Ninian has been rather difficult recently. He may just be looking for attention.’

‘Well then.’

Kate said nothing. She thought of the silent phone calls. She’d assumed they were something to do with the Summerfield project. Yet Andrew had missed the Council meeting – he’d been out all day, he’d put on aftershave.
He’d bought her a gift.

No. Surely not. He wouldn’t …

He wouldn’t do to her what she’d done to Val.

Charlotte lifted the biscuits and thrust them out at her. ‘It sounds to me like an issue of trust. Do you trust Andy or don’t you?’

‘Of course I trust him.’ Doubt made the assertion emerge with force.

‘Have a biscuit.’

Kate ignored Mrs Gillies’s irresistible cherry and macademia cookies. She didn’t even look at the tin, she looked at Charlotte. ‘What do you think, Char? Truly?’

Charlotte, who ate voraciously and always stayed thin, lifted a biscuit out of the tin and bit into it. ‘These are terrific,’ she said through a mouthful of crumbs. ‘She’s a treasure, your Mrs G.’

‘
Char.
’

Charlotte’s slim shoulders lifted in a shrug.

Kate wanted reassurance, not uncertainty. Charlotte’s opinion had so well and truly communicated itself to her that she left The Herons feeling more unsettled than she’d been when she arrived.

Forgie was just a dozen miles from Edinburgh. Its location – on a hill overlooking the Firth of Forth – was spectacular, as settlers across the centuries had discovered. There were Pictish remains and traces of Roman occupation, though most of the surviving buildings were Georgian or Victorian. They stood, foursquare and gracious, behind high walls, protected from casual curiosity and shielded from traffic along the one main street.

Willow Corner was one of the oldest houses in the village. It was harled and colourwashed in a traditional deep rose and the small burn that ran through the garden provided the water source for the thirsty willows after which the house had been named. Kate loved her home. She thought of it as much more than a home – it was a precious link through the years to the people of the past who had the money, the vision and the aesthetic good sense to build for elegance and pleasure, and for posterity.

Pleasure and posterity. What kind of posterity was she creating? Kate trudged back to Willow Corner the long way round so that she could gather some composure. Her conversation with Charlotte had left her disturbed. Surely the edifice she’d constructed half a lifetime ago with such passion and optimism could not possibly crumble around her?

‘Mrs Courtenay?’

Kate stopped abruptly. ‘Hello.’

Nicola Arnott, the head teacher she’d met last night, was desperately trying to restrain a frisky West Highland terrier. Its nose to the ground, it strained and tugged, lured by some scent too enticing to resist.

‘Darcy! Behave!’ She looked at Kate and laughed. ‘I know. Stupid name for a dog. It was my daughter’s idea. How funny to meet you again so soon. I’ve been thinking about you.’

‘Nothing too awful, I hope. I just do my job.’

‘I thought you did very well last night. It won’t be an easy ride, though.’

‘I know,’ Kate smiled in rueful acknowledgement of this. ‘I’m prepared for that.’

‘Are you? Well, you have my vote, but there’s going to be a lot of resistance. I guess I’m not telling you anything new. Anyway, enough of that – I need some advice.’

‘Oh yes?’

‘How well do you know Summerfield?’

‘A little.’

‘There’s a piece of waste land next to the school.
Darcy!
’ She tugged at the lead.

‘I know it, yes.’

‘I must have complained about it to the Council a dozen times. It’s a mess. The children throw their sweet wrappers there, and heaven knows what other rubbish is lurking among the weeds and rubble. Sadly, I’ve only ever met indifference.’

‘Oh yes?’ Kate, who’d had many dealings with the local Council, was not surprised.

‘On the last occasion, though, I finally spoke to a young man who showed some intelligence and interest. He promised to do something.’

‘That’s good.’

‘He called me back last night, just before I left for the meeting. Apparently it belongs to the school.’

‘Really? How come?’

‘The school was built on a plot of land that included this area, but it was never turned into a playground or, indeed, anything useful at all.’

‘That could be good news, couldn’t it? I imagine it’ll take some tidying, though.’

‘Sure.’

There was a pause. Kate waited, curious.

‘The thing is, well, I was wondering – do you have any ideas about what we might do with it? After it’s cleaned up?’

‘Me?’

‘I’ve been led to believe you have expertise in this area. Ways of using bits of land, planning applications, project management, all that kind of thing.’

‘I’ve never been involved in a school project, or anything like what you’re describing.’

‘There’s a first for everything.’ Nicola smiled her ready smile. ‘Your experience would be hugely appreciated.’

‘Who did you say gave you my name?’

‘Mark Matthews? He works at AeGen.’

Kate shook her head in amused exasperation.
Local knowledge.
He’d set her up. ‘Well, I have no ideas off the top of my head, but I’ll certainly give it some consideration.’

‘Thanks.’

There was a low growl as Darcy’s solid behind waggled deep in the weeds beside the pavement. ‘What
have
you got there? I’d better get going.’ She smiled apologetically. ‘He needs a walk. I don’t usually come this way but my daughter was going to a friend’s near here. I guess Darcy’s excited by all the new smells. Will you give it some thought? Can I phone you in a few days?’

Kate took Nicola’s outstretched hand. ‘Of course.’

The encounter cheered her up. It was a change to come across someone who valued her opinion.

A few days later, a heatwave catapulted Forgie into an early summer. Kate, on her way home from work, pulled up in front of The Herons to return a book she’d borrowed from Charlotte months ago. She’d never finished it – in truth, novels weren’t her thing and now she was too busy to read for pleasure in any case. It would be a good excuse to have another chat with Charlotte, clear up some of the comments she’d made.

She smelled the barbecue the moment she climbed out of her car.

‘Hi Kate! Good to see you.’ Mike Proctor, ultra casual in shorts and a baggy tee shirt, was brandishing barbecue tongs in one hand. He held them away from her and bent to kiss her cheek. ‘Come on in. Drink?’

Kate grinned at his well-padded figure, remembering him as he was during the brief period they’d dated at uni, so skinny she’d felt compelled to feed him up on pasta. She tugged playfully at the shorts, which were smeared with oil and flour and what was almost certainly charcoal.

‘Great look, Mike.’

 ‘Less sarcasm, missy. Charlotte’s out the back. I’ve got a jug of Pimms in the fridge, let me get you a glass. I was heading there anyway, we need more burgers.’

‘I just came to drop this off.’ Kate waved the book.

Charlotte and Georgie, who was fourteen now and looking sweet in tiny shorts and a crop top, were lounging on cushioned deck chairs, reading. Charlotte’s toenails were a vivid green, Georgie’s purple. The pretty floral tones made Kate feel horrendously overdressed in dark business suit and tights.

‘Hi, Kate!’ Charlotte waved and touched the arm of the recliner next to her. ‘Great to see you. Come and sit down.’

‘I mustn’t stay. I need to get home to convince Andrew he has a real wife and not an absentee one.’

Charlotte squinted sideways at her. ‘Call him. Mike’ll throw some more chops on the barbecue.’

‘Nice thought. Thanks. But there’s Ninian—’

‘Get him along here too. We haven’t seen him for ages, have we Georgie?’

Ninian and Georgie used to play doctors and nurses, but those days of innocence were long gone. Now her teenage son was embarrassed in the presence of the girls. ‘I don’t know if he’ll come. I suppose I could ask.’

‘Not even for a barbied sausage?’ Mike handed Kate a glass of amber liquid, decorated with sprigs of mint and slices of cucumber.

‘Do call,’ Charlotte urged.

One grateful gulp of Pimms and Kate succumbed and called home on her mobile. ‘Andrew? Mike and Charlotte are asking us to join them in the garden. Mike’s got his chef’s pinafore on and the smell’s pretty tempting. … Right. … Okay.’

‘He’ll be round in ten minutes,’ she said in answer to Charlotte’s unspoken question, ‘but he doesn’t think Ninian will come.’

‘Fine either way. Listen, you’re looking roasted, why don’t you nip in and raid my wardrobe? There’s a pair of flip-flops on the floor in our room, and you can grab a tee shirt, you know where they are. Go on, you’ll be a lot more comfortable.’

By the time Andrew arrived, cool in cropped trousers and a polo shirt, Kate felt considerably more relaxed.

‘Hello Andy.’ Charlotte rose from her lounger and raised her face for a kiss. ‘You’re looking gorgeous, as usual.’

Andrew obliged, laughing. ‘Flatterer.’