My Heart Remembers Page 12

  Sally could tell her father was pleased by the way he puffed at his pipe. As for herself, that silly pounding of her heart had begun again.

  ‘But, Ross, I thought we were going swimming,’ cried Maeve, her disappointment blatant.

  He gave her a slow enigmatical glance.

  ‘We can still do that, Maeve, but since Mike can’t go today I think I’d better go in his place. He let you know, I hope, Sally?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied shortly, then added, ‘Slavedriver! This is the second time you’ve spoilt our plans.’

  He stared at her seriously for a moment, then with a slight careless shrug he looked at Maeve again and smiled.

  ‘You’ll be coming on the Mary Rose too, Maeve,’ he suggested softly.

  Maeve smiled back at him, obviously pleased that he wanted her to go.

  “Well, I’m certainly not going to stay behind here and go swimming by myself,’ she answered gaily. ‘I’ll go and change.’

  Once on board the Mary Rose Sally found herself a prey to conflicting emotions. She was still cross because Mike had been unable to come and she was also extremely irritated by Ross’s behaviour. Presumably this morning he had decided he wanted to go cruising on the Mary Rose, so he was going cruising, no matter who else was inconvenienced. At the same time she was pleased because Maeve was on board and there was now a possibility of her meeting Fergus. And overall she had to admit that if Ross hadn’t decided to come Maeve would still be ashore in Portbride.

  He had enticed Maeve to come. Yes, that described exactly the way he had spoken and had looked at Maeve, and that was another cause of irritation. He had no right to speak to and look at Maeve like that.

  ‘Castoff!’

  The bow warp came hurtling towards her, thrown by the member of the crew of another fishing boat. Mary Rose sidled noisily away from her neighbours, turned so that her bow was pointed seawards and swept out of the harbour.

  Looking back, Sally could see her father and Ross talking together in the wheelhouse. Her father was smiling and nodding in agreement to some suggestion as his hand guided the wheel and he stared ahead, keen-eyed. Ross left the wheel-house and a few seconds later he and Maeve appeared together on the bow. They did not see Sally and leaned together on the bulwark, obviously engrossed in conversation. Feeling strangely rejected and unwanted, Sally moved aft of the wheelhouse to join her uncle Ben and his wife Madge, her cousin George and his wife Sheila and their two children.

  The trip was pleasant and easy. As Ross had said, the North Channel was rarely as calm as it was that day. Visibility was good and to the north it was possible to see the mountains of Arran, their jagged edges clearly defined.

  After half an hour the dark blue line of land towards which the boat was moving changed and became coloured shapes which represented houses and other buildings. Here and there the cylindrical shapes of water-towers perched on stilts appeared, common landmarks, rearing up above the comparatively flat green fields.

  Landfall made Hugh turned Mary Rose’s bow south and followed the coastline, keeping a respectful distance from the shore. And new mountains appeared, beautiful, purple and majestic, surprising, the Mountains of Moume.

  Suddenly the engines slowed and Mary Rose slewed round and made straight for the land. To the uninitiated it would seem as if there was no opening in the lush green rolling meadows, as if there was no harbour. But as the boat approached nearer an opening appeared, then unexpectedly it was in the midst of curling bubbling water which swept it along through a narrow passage. Gradually the passage widened out into a large loch.

  Engines at dead slow, the boat made fast progress on the tidal current which swept it past emerald green meadows and thick woodland. Eventually Hugh turned the wheel again and the boat swung round to point directly at the northern shore of the loch, then it moved crabwise towards its destination, a group of elegant pink, white and blue houses which were the waterfront of the small town of Dunginnis.

  Mary Rose was tied up at the old wooden pier from which some men and boys were doing a little lazy Sunday fishing. After arranging to meet at the boat at five-thirty to make sure of the ebb tide through the narrow entrance to the loch, Sally’s relations went off to take the bus to another town where they intended to visit friends.

  ‘We’ll go and see the MacGinnis straight away,’ said Hugh to Sally and Aunt Jessie.

  ‘What about Maeve? Won’t she be coming with us?’ asked Sally, glancing at Ross, who was busy on the pier making sure that the boat was adequately moored. Of Maeve there was no sign.

  Hugh shook his head and winked.

  ‘No, leave her. We’ll go and see how the land lies. She and Ross will follow in their own good time.’

  Sally looked at him curiously. He seemed to be enjoying a secret joke, because he kept smiling to himself as they walked up the broken pier, stepping carefully to avoid having a foot trapped in one of the holes.

  Dunginnis was a picturesque little town. Built at the end of the eighteenth century, it possessed an elegant terrace of Georgian houses along its waterfront, which were quite out of keeping with the small cottages which straggled up the hill behind them.

  The MacGinnis house was at the western end of the terrace and was hard against a formidable wall which encircled the domain of the local landowner, a certain Countess for whom Noel MacGinnis, Fergus’s father, worked as harbourmaster.

  Noel had seen them arrive and was standing at his front

  door ready to welcome them. On a garden seat set against the wall of the house under a window sat Claire MacGinnis, all fifteen stone of her arrayed in a strapless sundress of varying colours.

  ‘Where d’ye think she got that?’ whispered Aunt Jessie to Sally. ‘It doesna’ leave much to the imagination.’

  For all her outlandish style of dress Mrs. MacGinnis was a handsome, gracious woman. Built on Junoesque lines, she had a mane of black hair which was liberally sprinkled with grey and a pair of fine dark eyes.

  ‘Now come and sit ye down, Jessie, and ye too, Sally. Sure I’m glad to see ye both.’

  She made room for them on the garden seat. It was on this seat that she held court all summer, talking ceaselessly to her neighbours or to passers-by. Never mind that the house behind her needed cleaning or that a meal needed cooking, social relations were of much more importance in the life of Claire MacGinnis, and as Hugh Johnson had once said jokingly, when you visited her you might as well throw away your watch and buy a calendar, because Claire had no sense of time. Sally herself doubted whether a calendar was any use as she had a feeling that Mrs. MacGinnis recognised only the climate, of which there were two sorts only ... fine and wet. On wet days she was forced to sit inside and watch the world of Dunginnis go by from her window. On fine days, even if they were cold, she would sit outside on the old seat, and in the winter she would wear a thick shawl and have a car rug over her knees.

  ‘Now then, Sally, let me look at ye,’ she said, putting out a long graceful hand and tilting Sally’s face upward. ‘I see it’s mendin’ nicely. Ye’ll never be a beauty like me youngest daughter-in-law, but ye’ve kindness in y’r eyes and in y’r heart too, and that makes up for a lot. Is Maeve with ye now? It’s time she came back. Fergus has been a terrible trouble to me since she went away. Ach, when he came back from sea and found her gone he was terribly unkind to me ... his mother who nursed and raised him. He said it was my fault that she’d gone. How was I to know the girl wasn’t made right inside and couldn’t have children? It’s hard for a woman like me who’s raised six to understand. I’ve always been strong and I carried me children easily from start to finish ...’

  She almost preened herself, and during her pause for breath Aunt Jessie, who had been sitting bolt upright on the edge of the seat, said tartly,

  ‘Maeve is strong enough. Treated right she’ll make a good wife to anyone. She knows how to keep house and cook, and given a chance she’ll be a good mother to any child who needs one. There are plenty of unwanted babi
es waiting to be adopted by the likes of her and Fergus who canna have any of their own.’

  Since Claire MacGinnis was silenced for once, Aunt Jessie, after drawing a hasty breath, continued while she had a chance,

  ‘All this talk about carrying on the name and showing off your breeding prowess is such nonsense, Claire MacGinnis, in this day and age, I’m surprised at ye. No wonder the poor lass came runnin’ back to us!’

  Sally stared wide-eyed at her aunt, thinking that she had never heard Aunt Jessie make such a long speech. Mrs. MacGinnis looked taken aback as if no one had spoken to her like that for years ... which was probably the case, for her husband Noel was a gentle, soft-spoken man and her children had learned at an early age that it was wise not to hurt their mother’s feelings.

  But she recovered quickly from her amazement and her charming smile appeared as she attempted to smooth Aunt Jessie.

  ‘Maybe you’re right, Jessie, but I can’t help feeling sad because Fergus won’t have a son of his own to carry on the name of MacGinnis.’

  ‘Och, ye’d think ye were descended from the Kings of Ireland to hear ye talk,’ scoffed Jessie. ‘And anyway, haven’t ye three other sons with broods to take care of that for ye?’

  ‘Ah, but ye see me sons all have daughters, and me daughters have the sons.’

  ‘Well, no one can help that ... and I’m more concerned about Maeve’s future happiness than I am about the perpetuation of the MacGinnis name. Is Fergus here today?’

  ‘Not yet.’ Claire turned to Sally. ‘I received your letter and

  wrote to him telling him ye were comin’. I’ve told you he wasn’t very nice to me when he came back from sea, and said all the trouble was caused by them livin’ here. As if I hadn’t done me best, givin’ them a room and a good bed and lettin’ Maeve do all the cookin’ and that.’

  ‘It’s not right for young people to live with their parents when they’re just married,’ stated Aunt Jessie fiercely. ‘They need a place of their own until they get adjusted to each other.’

  ‘A lot you know about it, and you not, married, Jessie Johnson,’ sniped Mrs. MacGinnis. ‘Now, where was I? Ah yes, Fergus said he was going to find a place for them to live, and when he’d found it he’d go and bring Maeve back to it. He’s been in lodgin’s in the city. Just think of it—my baby in lodgin’s and not living where he’s wanted, in his mother’s house!’

  ‘Has he found a place yet?’ rapped Jessie, interrupting the flow of self-pity.

  ‘I don’t know. But ye’ll be hearin’ for yeself. I had a postcard from him yesterday saying he’d be here on the one o’clock bus in the hopes of seein’ Maeve. I don’t see her with ye, though. Wouldn’t she come?’

  ‘Aye, she’s come. She stayed on the boat, with a friend.’

  ‘What is the world comin’ to? Hasn’t she the manners to come and see her mother and father-in-law? She’d rather stay with a friend!’ complained Claire.

  ‘Aye. He’s a good friend too, and if I were your Fergus I’d be a wee bit worried, ye ken, about losin’ my wife if I didn’t act soon.’

  Sally looked sharply at Aunt Jessie, who winked at her, surprisingly enough.

  ‘With a man, is she? I might have known,’ said Claire with a sage nod of the head. ‘Ah, there’s the bus now.’

  A single-decker bus turned the corner out of the main street and stopped by the pier. Several people descended, including a dark-haired young man who began to walk along the street towards them. He walked with the slightly rolling gait of a person used to walking on the deck of a ship at sea.

  He reached Hugh and Noel first, stopped and shook hands

  with them and seemed prepared to stay and talk to them, but Mrs. MacGinnis raised her voice and called,

  ‘Fergus, me son, come here!’

  He approached her, bent to kiss her and allowed her to fondle his crest of thick black hair. Then straightening up he greeted Aunt Jessie gravely and smiled gently at Sally.

  ‘Hello, Sally. It seems to me you’ve grown up.’

  His voice too was gentle, and like his smile it was at variance with his fierce piratical good looks.

  ‘Where’s Maeve?’ he asked, scarcely bothering to hide his eagerness to see his wife again as he glanced round with anxious black eyes. ‘Hasn’t she come?’

  ‘Aye, she’s with us, lad,’ said Hugh soothingly. ‘But she stayed by the boat until we found out whether ye were here or not.’

  ‘Why shouldn’t I be here?’ demanded Fergus. ‘I’ve come to see her. I want her back.’

  Like his mother he had no hesitation in revealing his feelings in front of them.

  ‘Then why didn’t you come for her?’ questioned Hugh quietly.

  ‘How could I? I didn’t know she’d gone for a couple of weeks. We were busy taking that oil rig round to the North Sea, and then we had some work to do in the south. I wrote to her here, but my letters weren’t sent on to her.’ He gave his mother a fierce glance and when she would have defended herself he held up a hand to silence her. ‘No, Mother, I’ll tell my own tale. When I realised what had happened I was so upset I didn’t know what to do. But I calmed down after a while and decided it was no use bringing Maeve back here unless we had a place of our own to live in. So I set about looking for a place. It hasn’t been easy, but I’ve found a house to rent at last. I signed the lease yesterday—but it’s Maeve I should be telling, not you.’

  He turned on his heels suddenly and walked away down the street to the pier, eagerness in every stride. They watched him go in silence, then Aunt Jessie breathed a sigh of relief and said with a satisfied smile,

  ‘Well, that’s that. It wasn’t as bad as we thought. The lad has had his problems and he’s faced up to them. It’s all going to turn out right. What a blessing Ross persuaded Maeve to come with us!’

  Sally started. Ross was with Maeve. When Fergus saw them together goodness knows what he would do. The sight of another man with his wife might be just enough to trigger off his temper. Without further hesitation she jumped to her feet, prepared to run after Fergus.

  ‘Sally, where are ye goin’? Leave them alone!’ said Hugh in an attempt to stop her from following Fergus.

  ‘He ... he ... might hurt Ross,’ she blurted, wrenching her arm from his grasp.

  ‘Och, so that’s the way the wind is blowing,’ he commented with a twinkle, and stepped out of her way. She ran down the road swiftly and caught up with Fergus at the pier.

  ‘Fergus, wait!’

  He swung round on her, his dark eyes sparkling with impatience.

  ‘Wait? Why should I wait?’ he demanded.

  ‘Maeve is with a friend. I’ll go and fetch her ...’

  ‘What friend? What’s her friend to me? I’ll fetch her myself.’ He was on the pier and striding towards the Mary Rose before she could stop him. At that moment Sally noticed Ross leaning against the bulwark of the boat. The tide being in, the boat was riding high above the wooden platform. Maeve was standing in front of Ross and was peering at his face closely. There was a certain intimacy about their relative positions which aroused alarm in Sally so that she quickened her pace.

  But as Fergus approached them Maeve turned round.

  ‘Fergus!’ she cried, and her lovely smile lit up her face.

  He did not seem to hear her. His voice choked with fury, he said to Ross,

  “Who are you?’

  Ross held out his hand and replied equably,

  ‘I’m Ross Lorimer.’

  ‘Then stay away from my wife!’ barked Fergus.

  Ross straightened up, lunging away from the bulwark, and regarded Fergus warily.

  ‘I’ll be glad to stay away from her. But don’t you think it’s

  time you recognised your marital responsibilities?’

  Fergus’s face went white as he reacted furiously to the sneer in Ross’s voice. The little crowd of men and boys who had been fishing, hearing the raised voices, gathered round inquisitively.

  �
�No!’ cried Sally, rushing to place herself in front of Ross. ‘Take Fergus home, Maeve!’ she called to heir stepsister.

  Maeve nodded, and pulling on Fergus’s arm whispered something in his ear. As if realising for the first time that she was really there he unclenched his fists, put his arms around her and kissed her, to a chorus of derisive hoots and whistles from the crowd. Then with a final suspicious glance at Ross he put his arm around Maeve’s waist and together they walked away towards the town, while the small group of spectators returned to their fishing.

  Sally turned round. Ross was leaning against the Mary Rose again. He was holding a handkerchief to his nose. Concerned, Sally went over to him and as she drew near she noticed that his handkerchief was spotted with blood and that a yellowish bruise was swelling rapidly on his cheekbone below his right eye, which was showing signs of blackening. He looked up and smiled slowly.

  ‘You were right about Fergus’s temper,’ he remarked.

  ‘What have you done to your face?’ she asked anxiously.

  His mouth twisted ruefully.

  ‘I didn’t look where I was going. I went down to look at the engine, and forgot that in some places down below the headroom is low. As I turned to come back up the companionway I caught the lintel with my head, and this is the result. Stupid thing to do ... and my nose always did have a tendency to bleed if I banged my head in any way.’

  Sally gazed at him helplessly, upset because he had been hurt and she was not in any position to do anything about it. Now she knew why Maeve had been inspecting his face so closely.

  ‘I ran as fast as I could after Fergus,’ she found herself explaining. ‘I knew that if he saw you with Maeve he would be wild, and I was afraid he might hit you.’

  He had been looking curiously at the bloodstains on his handkerchief, but at her final words he looked up suddenly and under his bright quizzical gaze she flushed and looked away defensively.

  ‘That was nice of you, Sally, but although he has a temper he seems able to control it. He wouldn’t have hit me. And anyway, the whole idea was for him to see Maeve with me. Remember you told me last night that Maeve had said no one could make her come to Dunginnis to see Fergus and that he would have to come to her first? Well, I knew I could make her come here if I went about it the right way.’