Dark Hills Rising Page 10

  'But on the whole I have little to do with her.'

  'So your good resolutions came unstuck? You haven't managed to reform her?' Taking out one of her sister's dresses, Gail hung it in the wardrobe. When she turned again Heather was still waiting for an answer.

  'I hate to admit it, but ' Gail shook her head. 'It's an awful thing to say, Heather, but I don't think Morag can be reformed.'

  'If she manages to get herself a decent husband?' Gail sighed, thinking of what Morag had said about the fun and excitement of deceiving a husband.

  'I should imagine decent young men give her a wide berth.'

  Heather began to unpack her other suitcase.

  'The two small ones ... how about them? They seemed tractable enough when I had them.'

  'They're wonderful children.' Her eyes brightened, revealing her inner animation and enthusiasm. 'I love them dearly-and they love me, so I'm very lucky indeed.'

  'So you've got what you wanted-and I must say it would have been a waste if someone like you hadn't had the upbringing of children. I'm glad for you, Gail, really happy that your desire materialized.' And then she added, on noting the swift, unintentional change in Gail's expression, 'Andrew ...?' No answer from Gail and Heather went on slowly, 'I hinted that you might be falling in love with him... ?'

  Gail flushed and nodded reluctantly. 'Yes,' she admitted, because she and Heather had never had secrets from one another. 'I find myself caring much more than is good for my peace of mind.'

  'A contretemps you didn't reckon with?' Gail frowned. 'I wouldn't call it that-'

  'You wouldn't?' interrupted Heather quickly. 'You mean he's falling in love too?' And yet she shook her head. 'He's too hard, Gail. He couldn't fall in love.' Gail had to laugh, even though her thoughts were serious as she recalled her husband's softness and contrition after hurting her because of his suspicions about Robin. 'You've formed your own picture of him, haven't you?'

  'He was so arrogant and pompous on every occasion I had the misfortune-I mean,' she amended, remembering she was now a guest in Andrew's house, 'on every occasion I met him. And you know yourself he could scarcely bear to speak to either of us when you came on that last visit.'

  Gail opened a drawer and laid Heather's underwear in it.

  'He did speak to me, though. He asked me to marry him.' She glanced up, amusement in her eyes. 'Seriously, Heather, he isn't like that at all. He's been through a lot-much more than most men of his age, and if it's made him a little hard and bitter no one can blame him. Underneath he's tolerant and understanding, and-and I think he could fall in love...' Yet she tailed off, her eyes clouding. Was she living in a fool's paradise?

  'I hope,' said Heather angrily, 'that you're not in for another hurt.'

  'Andrew's been much more human lately, and if it weren't for Morag She makes him so angry and then he's sharp and impatient with everyone.' Closing the drawer, Gail straightened up. 'Time will tell, I suppose. We haven't been married very long and, after all, I haven't been' deceived in any way, or misled. Andrew gave me to understand there'd be nothing in the marriage, and I agreed because that was what I wanted-at the time.'

  'It's not natural for you to go on like this. You're normal-and a man like Andrew must have all the normal desires, too. Does he go out much?' Heather suddenly asked, frowning. 'On his own, I mean?'

  'He doesn't have women friends, if that's what you're suggesting!'

  'Sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you. No, I don't believe he would have women friends-not of that sort.' Heather changed the subject then and at last Gail received all the news for which she had been waiting. Roger had landed a big contract, and his firm was in the running for another; Marilyn had won a silver medal for her dancing, making five in all. Simon had found a dead pheasant on the front lawn and everyone except Roger had cried.

  Beth's news was imparted a short while later when they were in the sitting-room with the men. Andrew occasionally cocked an ear, interestedly watching his wife's face and smiling at her whenever she happened to catch his eye. She was inordinately happy to be entertaining her family like this, for always she had been the guest, having no home of her own. And later, when the children came rushing in, flushed and hungry, addressing her as Mummy as if they had been doing so all their lives, she really felt her cup to be full as she firmly set aside her more intimate desires and took what was there, well within her reach.

  'Mummy ... oh, I must have something to eat!' gasped Robbie.

  'So must I!' Shena was almost as breathless as her brother.

  'We're all hungry,' put in Thomas, more sedately, being older. 'Can we have some sandwiches, please, Auntie Gail?'

  'I think tea will be ready,' put in Andrew, reaching for the bell-rope. Dora appeared almost at once and in answer to his question said the tea would be ready in five minutes' time.

  They all sat down together-the six adults at one table and the children at another. It was a noisy meal, but no one cared, and Gail saw her husband as the family man, congenial and relaxed, yet not losing his inherent dignity.

  'I like your husband,' whispered Beth, on making sure Andrew could not hear. 'Where did Heather get the idea that he was awful?'

  'She didn't know him very well.'

  'It's a wonder you don't fall in love with him.'

  'I have. Can I help you to more scones?'

  'You have! But, Gail, you chump!'

  'The butter's to your left. Would you like more tea?'

  'Will he fall for you, do you think,"'

  'He might-if my stars up there just keep going in their present direction.'

  'But supposing he doesn't?' said Beth anxiously.

  'I have the children.' But her voice faltered. On losing Michael Gail's one desire had been to be with children; vaguely she had known she must one day work with them and that encounter in the park had decided things for her. She would change her job after the holiday with Heather, and she had firmly believed then that children would be enough. On accepting Andrew's proposal she had again believed children would be enough, felt sure that although she desired to be a wife as well as a mother, a 'wife in name only' position would have satisfied her. It would, had she not felt like this about

  Andrew, but she did feel like this ... and now she knew that fulfillment did not come with children alone. Was she asking too much? she wondered fearfully. The fates had been kind, lifting her from her lonely spinster status and giving her two wonderful children, a home of which to be proud, and a husband who was far, far above the ordinary run of men. Should she be satisfied?-grateful for the bounties received, asking for no more? 'Does Andrew know-everything?' asked Beth a trifle hesitantly as Gail refilled her teacup.

  'He knows about the accident. He saw the scar on my head and asked about it, so I had to tell him I'd been in a crash. He doesn't know anything else.' Her voice faded as another thought struck her. Supposing Andrew did fall in love with her ... would he expect to have more children? The idea frightened her, and she put it out of her mind, turning to speak to Roger, and then joining in the general conversation going on around her.

  To her surprise, and also to her intense satisfaction, Andrew decided not to work at all while their visitors were with them. He needed the rest, she thought, and as it was to coincide with Morag's absence there would be nothing to prevent his obtaining the maximum benefit of both physical rest and mental relaxation. It was a typical country holiday, spent mainly out of doors, for the weather remained fine and sunny and on several days it was hot enough to sunbathe on the lawn, all except Gail in the scantiest of attire. The swimming pool was put to good use, as was the putting green which had been made only the year before on part of the lawn at one side of the house. Rambling over the moors or in the glen, watching nature, was a delight shared by all, even though much was missed because of the inability of the children to make a silent approach when something interesting was happening. They were thrilled with the roe deer but could not get close enough for their liking, and would often giv
e disappointed little cries as, after 'stalking' the deer, they would then see them take off, making their gazelle-like bounds towards a rise, over which they would disappear from sight.

  Andrew was continually plied with questions by the children of his sisters-in- law, and always he answered with patience, for he himself took a keen interest in all that went on around him. All predatory birds left the nest in July, from the great golden eagle to the relatively small sparrowhawk. But as they did not immediately fend for themselves they could sometimes be seen-if the children could be persuaded to go quietly- being fed by their parents. Sometimes the birds would be seen over the grouse moors, looking for prey- buzzards and kestrels and peregrine falcons. The eagles were never seen feeding their young because their eyries were high on some cliff and one had to climb in order to get close enough. 'Have you seen them feeding, Uncle Andrew?' Man-da wanted to know. Having taken a particular liking to him she usually kept 'by him, and asked him more questions than did any of the other children.

  'Yes, Manda, I've seen them feeding their young.'

  'Did you climb up to the eyrie?'

  'Yes, I did. But it's a long time ago.' 'Was it dangerous?' asked Simon eagerly. 'Can we go up?'

  'It isn't particularly dangerous,' Andrew said, adding, 'But it would be difficult for you to get up there. Besides, we don't know where there's an eyrie.' 'Meredith does,' put in Robbie. 'He said he'd been watching one and that there were two eggs and they both hatched but one eaglet died afterwards.'

  'Only two eggs?' said Thomas. 'That's not many.'

  'Eagles often lay only one,' Andrew told him.

  'Why did one die?' Marilyn had been running on a little way in front with Shena, but she stopped to put her question to Andrew.

  'It would have been a weakly bird. Did Meredith say how old it was, Robbie?'

  'Six weeks-and they're big by then.'

  'Ah, well, the mother would have been feeding them both and so they'd have shared the food equally, but at six weeks she would just leave the food and expect them to tear it up themselves. If one eaglet was weaker then the other would get all the food.'

  'Natural selection,' commented Roger. 'Exactly.'

  'What's natural selection?' asked Shena, but this time Andrew just laughed and ruffled her hair.

  'You'll know when you're older, Shena,' he replied when she repeated her question. 'Look,' he said suddenly. 'There's an eagle-over against the cliff.' They all stopped immediately, uttering little gasps of admiration as they watched the graceful aquiline

  performance of a golden eagle as it dived, wings half open, straight down the cliff; then, coming out of the dive it spread its wings and glided effortlessly across the broad glen, expertly using the air currents until it rose again with a majestic movement of its wings. 'Its eyrie will be on the top of the cliff, won't it, Daddy?' Andrew nodded.

  'Yes, Bobbie-see, it's alighting.' It was instantly lost to sight and they all began walking again, along a path above the glen.

  'What a size! ' exclaimed Harvey. 'I'd hate that to attack me!'

  'They don't attack men,' said his wife. 'Do they, Gail?'

  She laughed and said she didn't know.

  Andrew replied for her. 'They could, if one went too near their eyrie-have been known to, in fact, but it's very rare. In any case, it's more of a "frightening off" performance done with their wings. A stalker of mine was attacked in this way once, but the eagle never actually touched him.'

  'Is it true that they take lambs?'

  'Yes, they'll take lambs, and full-grown foxes. Fox cubs are often found outside the eyrie-or the inedible remains of the cubs, I should say.'

  'I can imagine them taking the cubs,' put in Gail, 'but the full-grown animals.... Don't they fight the eagles?'

  'I expect they put up some sort of resistance,' he said, looking at her. 'But have you ever seen the talons of an eagle?'

  'No, I haven't-and I don't think I want to get close enough to see them, either,' returned Gail with a shudder. 'Daddy doesn't mind if the eagles take the lambs,' remarked Bobbie unconcernedly. 'Do you, Daddy?'

  'I certainly do mind,' came the swift reply. 'What gave you that idea?'

  'Because you never shoot the eagles, and neither does Meredith. Not like the foxes- he gets mad with them and goes off to find their dens.'

  'We don't shoot the eagles, no. But we don't like them to-king the lambs for all that.'

  'It seems to me,' interposed Beth a little sadly, 'that everything's out to kill everything else.'

  'That's inevitable where you get wild life,' returned Andrew. 'Many animals must kill in order to live themselves and I even feel sorry for the foxes sometimes. They must become desperate when they've several ravenous cubs to feed.' His words were so unexpected that Gail raised her head sharply to look at him. He smiled and his glance seemed to say, 'Yes, Gail, I do have a heart,' and her own smile broke in response because she felt happy and warm and strangely reassured.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  THE time sped away quickly and with only two days to go Heather's face became glum as she said, on finding herself alone with Gail,

  'I've never enjoyed a holiday so much; I simply hate the thought of going home. Do ask us again soon, won't you?' Gail nodded and smiled. The company had been good for her, but of far greater importance to Gail was the enjoyment Andrew had derived from the rest and the change. Roger was of course an old friend, but Harvey also had much in common with Andrew, and Gail could envisage many more such visits to Dunlochrie House.

  On the afternoon prior to the departure of the two families Shena had her birthday party, Andrew having earlier suggested it be brought forward a few days so that her four cousins could attend. The three sisters were doing most of the work themselves, a circum-stance that brought a questioning look from Andrew when he heard of it. It was as if he failed to understand their taking on a task that could be done by the kitchen staff. 'It's the sort of thing a mother wants to do herself-a sort of labour of love.' Heather made this remark, for Gail would never have done so, and something suddenly woke in Andrew's eyes as he looked down at his wife's eager face. .

  'I'm glad I married you,' he whispered, leaning over her. She started and blushed.

  'Andrew, thank you,' she breathed, and through her swept the memory of his lips pressed fleetingly to the scar on her temple. Often she had thought of it, wondering whether it had been an automatic gesture prompted by her distress, and one of which he himself was scarcely aware, or whether he also had recurring recollections of it. If so, the idea of a repetition had not occurred to him-or, more likely, it held no attraction for him. But now he smiled at her in a way that made her excitingly content with the moment, conscious as she was of her sisters' interest in this intimate little interchange of words and looks.

  'Are you all coming to the party?' asked Beth of her husband, who had just joined them.

  'Well....' he began, and that was as far as he got.

  'You are,' Beth told him. 'So don't get any ideas of sidling off somewhere and having quiet drinks all on your own!' Her words included Andrew, to whom she turned, laughing and, glancing up at her husband, Gail was fully prepared to witness that familiar lift of brows followed by a firm if tactful sentence designed to put Beth in her place. But from the first Beth had made a hit with him and to Gail's surprise he only laughed, whereupon Beth added, 'You can also entertain the children while we prepare the room. We don't want them to see it until teatime.'

  'Just a minute,' protested Harvey. 'Looking after children isn't man's work!' Beth's eyes opened wide. 'You helped produce them, so you can just do your share,' she returned in firm decisive tones, and again Andrew laughed.

  'We'll take them out and find something to keep them occupied,' he promised obligingly.

  'Let's play putting,' Simon eagerly suggested when the time came to discuss what they would do.

  'You've been on that green every possible minute,' said his mother. 'It looks as if we're to have a famous golfer i
n the family.'

  'I'd like to play cricket for a change,' said Manda.

  'We'll be quite a long while, so you'll have time for both-and a swim for that matter.' The big dining-room was used, for in addition to the six, over twenty of Shena's and Robbie's friends had been invited, and Gail and her sisters worked until lunchtime, decorating the room with streamers and balloons, with fairy lights and masses of flowers. The table would be set immediately after lunch; the three men were to sit with the children while their wives did the waiting on.

  At lunchtime Robbie and Shena came into the house first, followed by their father. 'We'll go and wash our hands and faces,' said Robbie, and they both ran off to one of the cloakrooms at the end of the hall. 'If that had been my two they'd have wanted to see the room-even though they would expect to be re-fused.' Heather frowned, sending a puzzled glance from Andrew to Gail.

  Andrew said, a faintly bitter edge to his voice,

  'They're not used to having the room decorated. This is the first time it's been done.'

  'The first-?' Heather pulled herself up, realizing her lack of tact. 'Then -it'll be a nice surprise for them.'

  'It will indeed,' and his glance of gratitude was divided between all three girls as he looked at them in turn. And it was a surprise. Other birthday parties, arranged by indifferent nannies with no desire for extra work, had merely meant a table full of dry ham sandwiches and cake and whatever the kitchen staff had been ordered to produce. But all three sisters were fully experienced in preparing a children's party, with Gail herself particularly active when such things were going on. And because of their experience the table glittered even as the room did. The sandwiches, filled with chopped meats and chicken, were cut into shapes and then burnt slightly on a grid which gave them curls and stripes and all sorts of other decorations.

  The small cakes were colourfully decorated with care and imagination, the biscuits took on animals shapes. Jellies scintillated in the light; there was a huge trifle and of course the birthday cake with Shena's name and six red candles ready to be lit. While the girls had been occupied with the table the men were busy with the ever- increasing family on the lawn outside, devising games and competitions with prizes for the winners-and in fact for every single child.