Dark Hills Rising Page 17

  'Who the devil are you!' A light snapped on and Gail swung round, her heart leaping right up into her throat.

  'You startled me,' she flashed angrily. 'And it's I who should be asking who you are!'

  The youth was in a dressing-gown and he looked as if he'd been up all night. His eyes flicked over Gail's soaked clothing before his gaze settled on her face.

  'My name's Paul. Say, you're not bad. How did you get here? Dave said another dame was coming-but no, you're too old.'

  'Where,' demanded Gail icily, 'is my stepdaughter?'

  'Your-?' He gaped. 'You're Morag's old man's wife? But how did you know she was here? She swore she hadn't told a soul, otherwise we'd never have come.' He stopped, his facing turning a sickly yellow colour. 'Her dad-is he here as well?' His gaze went to the window, as if he expected Morag's father to be peering in at him.

  'He shouldn't be long.' Gail had no qualms about the lie, though she did not enlarge on the information she had given, but merely asked again where Morag was. 'In bed-where do you expect her to be at this time of the morning? I'd be in bed myself if I didn't have a headache. I came down to get a drink, but I won't bother. I'm getting out of this before her dad arrives. Morag's in the bedroom at the top of the stairs,' he added. 'She spoilt the party last night because she was ill. Carol had to put her to bed at eight o'clock and we've not seen her since - 'Not ... seen her?' faltered Gail, fear threatening to block her throat. 'Did no one go to her-later, I mean?' He shrugged. 'We were having a party- and forgot.'

  'Forgot there was someone ill in bed?' She could not take that in, but she wasted no more time and a few seconds later she was with Morag, her fears increasing as she noted at once the girl's blue lips and heaving chest.

  'You ...?' Morag spoke with difficulty. 'How did you get here?' And, before Gail could answer, 'A drink, for God's sake, get me a drink!'

  As she came from the bedroom Gail heard the babble of voices from another room further along the corridor.

  'I don't believe you'

  'The woman said he won't be long. Please yourself if you want to stay-but I'm moving, right now!' Gail heard no more, for by this time she had reached the bottom of the stairs. Not long afterwards, as she was sitting on the bed, holding the cup to Morag's lips, Gail heard footsteps passing the door. Someone shouted,

  'Bye, Morag' and then the two cars were moving away, crunching over the frozen snow beneath the window. 'I must leave you for a few minutes,' said Gail to Morag as she laid her gently down again. 'I've some telephoning to do, but I'll be as quick as I can.' Sinclair had given her the number of Andrew's factor and from him Gail received the number of a doctor. Barclay, the factor, arrived within half an hour of her telephoning him, a tall, rugged-faced man in his for-ties. He listened with a grave expression to what Gail had to say, shaking his head occasionally with impatience or disgust. 'Mr. Mac Neill's had something to put up with; but she's never brought her friends here before.

  The reason, Gail learned presently, was that none of the young people had much money.

  'They all brought food from home,' Morag said, even though Gail urged her to rest, and not to talk. 'And I raided our deepfreeze. As for the drinks ... Father always keeps plenty here, because of the shooting parties, even though he doesn't take much himself.'

  'Don't talk,' said Gail again. 'Is the pain very bad?'

  'Awful. I hope that doctor brings something with him.' She paused, breathing heavily. 'They all went without coming in to see me. I wish I hadn't invited them; and to think, I let them shoot'

  'Shoot? What did they shoot?'

  'Stags-at least, that's what the three boys took the guns for. But they weren't good enough shots. Dave hit one, but it ran off before he could kill it.'

  'You mean-it's injured, and-and roaming about, in this weather?'

  'It'll die eventually, because if it's badly hurt it won't be able to get food.' In spite of her pain Morag managed to laugh at Gail's expression. 'What a softie you are! It's only an animal.' Rising, Gail left the room. She found Barclay in the hall examining a gun he had found lying on the floor of the front porch. Gail imparted her news even as Barclay was about to say that the gun had been recently used.

  'A wounded stag? I'll get Robertson right away; he's Mr. Mac Neill's head stalker here ...'

  Gail sat huddled up by the fire, staring into the flames, numbed in mind and body. Hours went by; now and again she leant forward and threw a few logs on to the fire, her eyes aching with sleep denied. Dawn was breaking when yet again she went over to the window and drew aside the heavy velvet curtain. A white and terrifying world ... and her husband out there, with Robertson, stalking that poor animal in order to put it out of its misery. For it was in misery; it had been seen, Robertson was told, dragging a useless leg behind it and emitting spine-chilling cries as pain and hunger overwhelmed it. Drawing the curtain across again, Gail returned to her seat by the fire, absorbing herself in thought in order to keep awake. So much had happened in so short a time. That nerve-racking drive in the ambulance, with the vehicle skidding and swerving down the narrow winding lane; and then the relief as the main road was reached and some sort of speed could be maintained. But it had all been in vain. Twenty minutes after being admitted to hospital Morag was dead. The doctor coming to Gail in the chill bleak waiting-room ... the nightmare drive home in a taxi . . . the utter weariness and dejection. Gail knew she would never forget this night as long as she lived. For on reaching the lodge she had learned that Andrew had arrived just a few minutes ago and, having been informed of Morag's death by Barclay and deciding he could gain nothing by going to the hospital, he went out with Robertson to search for the wounded stag.

  All night long they had been out. The sleet had turned to snow again, as Gail surmised it would, but by the time she arrived back from the hospital it had stopped and a full moon shone from a clear sky. But a sky like that portended a severe frost and Gail shivered with fear as much as cold each time she left the fire and went to the window. Andrew out there, searching and stalking ... crawling on his stomach, edging closer and closer so as to be able to aim at the head or the neck. The stag, alert because of its hunger and pain, would sense the presence of its adversaries and keep moving on, to become lost to view. Robertson would sight it again and the whole wearying process would be repeated, the men dropping once more to their stomachs, slithering through the snow, their clothing sodden and freezing on their shivering bodies. Gail knew her husband could kill at a distance of two hundred yards, but she somehow felt that in this instance he would get closer, much closer, for the animal must be dispatched with one painless shot. Andrew would make doubly sure of this. How long would that take? But they would not be home until that unfortunate stag was secured, and Gail herself would not have it otherwise-but the fear for Andrew was great, so great that it hurt. Would he contact pneumonia-or something even worse? Rheumatic fever...?

  She stood up again, wringing her hands, and the next moment she was back in her chair. Think of something else. Morag..

  No, not Morag! Someone was moving about in the kitchen. Mrs. Irvine and her husband, preparing to light the fires, and get the boiler going, and the breakfast.

  Mr. and Mrs. Irvine were the couple employed by Andrew to keep an eye on the lodge; they had been there when Gail arrived back from the hospital, having been sent for by Barclay. They had tidied up the mess in the sitting-room and lighted a fire. The whole room had been transformed in Gail's absence, and elsewhere in the house dust covers had come off and fires had been lighted in the bedrooms.

  "It's to your bed you're going,' the woman had de-dared with all the aggressiveness of her Scottish fore-bears.

  'You're looking all in, and I've heard about you driving through the night, and then sitting with Miss Morag for hours waiting for the ambulance.' Mrs. Irvine had scrutinized Gail for a long moment, her tongue clicking as she did so. 'I've aired the mattress and there's a lovely fire in tour room. I'm away to make tip the bed and I'll call you
when it's done.' 'I'm waiting until my husband gets back-'

  'Why must you wait for him?' demanded Mrs. Irvine pugnaciously. 'He'll not he back this night, unless I'm very much mistaken.'

  'I won't sleep with him being out there. I-I want to wait to see if he's all right.'

  'All right? Of course he'll be all right. Now just you come up when I call-and no more of this nonsense!'

  Too weary for further argument, Gail went meekly upstairs and adopted an air of resignation until the departure of the old woman from the room. Half an hour later on hearing the couple go to bed, Gail crept downstairs and into the sitting- room, where she had been ever since. Mrs. Irvine's footsteps could now be heard coming along the hall; she opened the door, a bucket and shovel in her hand. 'What-?' The woman stared at Gail, sitting there, fully dressed, before a fire clogged up with dead ash. 'Mrs. MacNeill!' she exclaimed admonishingly. 'You never went to bed?'

  'No; I'm sorry, but I wouldn't have slept, not with my husband in danger Oh, Mrs. Irvine,' she cried distractedly, 'whatever can have happened to them? Do you think they could have fallen in a loch?'

  'Fallen ?' Mrs. Irvine blinked at her. 'Now what would they be wanting to fall in a loch for?'

  'If the loch was covered with ice and snow they couldn't see it-' She tailed off, staring as if she had seen a ghost. Andrew stood in the doorway, soaked to the skin and caked in mud and grime, a rank- smelling vegetation adhering to his clothing and his hair. 'Andrew ... you're safe!' Gail took a few faltering steps towards him, the scar livid against the pallor of her skin. 'You're safe Her legs went from under her, but Andrew caught her before she fell.

  'Darling--' Gently he laid her down on the couch and she managed a wan little smile. 'Darling, you're all in. Why aren't you in bed?'

  Her eyelids became heavy and fluttered down; she tried to speak, but her nerves were all to pieces and she just shook her head feebly.

  'I told her you'd be all right, sir,' Mrs. Irvine began. 'And I also said she must go to bed-two nights she's been away from her bed But she said she wouldn't sleep, with you being out there-seemed to think you were in some sort of danger.' Gail's eyes opened; Andrew's arm slid under her shoulders and she was eased up. He held a glass to her lips; she drank from it and smiled again. Had she dreamt it, or had he really called her darling? There was no doubt about the tenderness in his eyes now-and he was looking at her with an odd perception too, as if he had made a sudden discovery.

  'Andrew,' she breathed as he put her back against the cushions. 'You --called m-me-called me...'

  'Mrs. Irvine,' he said, turning to the old woman who was preparing to leave them alone, 'is the bed ready?'

  'I'll warm it again, sir, and light a fire.'

  'Thank you; be as quick as you can, I don't want Mrs. MacNeill to fall asleep here.'

  'I don't want to go to bed.' Gail tried to rise, but a hand on her shoulder kept her where she was. 'I'm not going,' she said more firmly as the door closed behind Mrs. Irvine.

  'Not going?' frowned Andrew. 'Why?'

  'You called me darling'

  His mouth curved with amusement.

  'Is that any reason for your not going to bed?'

  She blushed, feeling foolish as he continued to stare down at her, the humorous curve still on his lips. 'You're soaked,' she managed to say at last. 'You must go and change, and have a bath.' Her eyelids drooped and she could scarcely keep awake. 'Gail,' he said sharply, 'don't go to sleep here.'

  But although she fought against it, sleep overtook her and her husband left her there on the couch, merely tucking a rug around her and drawing the curtains so that the room was in darkness except for the glow from the fire. She awoke partly refreshed but still tired. Someone had been in and attended to the fire, but the warmth that enveloped Gail came from another source altogether.

  Andrew loved her.

  'You're awake, Mrs. MacNeill.' From the quietness of the hall Mrs. Irvine appeared, her eyes keen and searching. 'Feeling better for your sleep?' Gail nodded.

  'My husband-is he all right?'

  'All right? But of course he's all right. He's been sleeping, but he's up now; I heard him a few minutes ago. Would you like a nice cup of tea?' 'In a little while. I want a bath first.' She had packed a suitcase with underwear and night clothes, but Mrs. Birchan had insisted on putting in a couple of dresses and for this Gail was thankful, having spent over forty-eight hours in the dress she now wore.

  Mrs. Irvine threw a massive log on the fire.

  'You go and have your bath,' she said, turning to Gail, 'and I'll have a pot of tea ready when you come down. I have a dinner cooking, but you'll not be wanting it yet awhile-not with just getting up.' 'What time is it?' asked Gail curiously. 'Almost seven o'clock. Both you and the master have been asleep for the whole day.'

  When Gail came down, much refreshed after her bath and change of clothing, Andrew was standing with his back to the fire, clad in a dressing-gown and yet appearing almost immaculate-so clean and cool and showing no sign of having suffered in any way from his experience out there in the snowy wastes. But there was a certain grimness about him which portrayed the fact that the tragedy of Morag had been very much on his mind, and indeed, it still was. But it was Gail who spoke of her, saying with deep regret,

  'Morag ... there was no hope, Andrew. I arrived too late. And when the ambulance finally did come its progress was so so slow until we reached the main road. I'm so sorry, Andrew.'

  Silence dropped on the room, but after a little while Andrew spoke, and his tones, unlike those of Gail, were devoid of emotion.

  'You did all you could, my dear, and I thank you.' His eyes met hers and she saw them darken with sudden tenderness and love. 'You were wonderful; I heard it all from Sinclair and Barclay and Mrs. Irvine.' He fell silent again as she lowered her head, hiding her face, for her colour had risen at his praise. 'I have things to do for Morag,' he continued in the same unemotional tones. 'And they will be done, of course.

  But after that we shall not mention her again.' Leaning forward, he tilted up her face with a finger under her chin. 'You understand, Gail? I do not want her name mentioned again.'

  She swallowed and a pained expression crossed her face. But she nodded and said, almost inaudibly, 'Yes, Andrew, I understand.' He looked at her hard and long before releasing her.

  'I think you do understand,' he murmured. 'I believe you understand everything.'

  She inclined her head. He was absolutely sure, then, that Morag was not his. And he obviously felt convinced that Gail had also guessed at the truth.

  They both looked up as Mrs. Irvine entered with the tea tray and set it down on a table by the fire.

  'Will you be eating, sir?' she inquired. 'I have a dinner in the oven.'

  'We shall probably eat later.' He glanced at Gail. 'Unless you're hungry now?'

  She shook her head. 'I couldn't eat anything at present.'

  When Mrs. Irvine had gone, and they were drinking their tea, Andrew spoke to Gail more intimately than ever before. He had early begun to suspect that Morag was not his, but when left with her he had tried to forget this and had given her a father's affection and care. As for his wife, he took her back, but could not forgive her.

  'She went away again and I tormented myself that I 'was partly to blame: I felt a hypocrite-going to church on Sunday and yet not practising the Christian creed of forgiveness. So the next time she came back we had Robbie and Shena 'You were willing to make a completely new start?' Gail recalled her sister's assertion that Andrew was a good man and would consider marriage to be permanent. But Andrew was shaking his head, although a little sadly. 'I tried, Gail, but it wasn't possible to forget, and in order to forgive one must forget what one has suffered. It didn't help when Morag turned out the way she did. I truly believed she was to be my permanent cross in this life.'

  His face was drawn, but as Gail looked at him with tender compassion his smile appeared and, removing the table, he sat down next to her on the couch. H
is arm went around her and she nestled close, resting her head against his breast. 'You mustn't blame yourself, Andrew," she whispered. 'It's very hard, sometimes, to forgive.' She was thinking of Michael and the wrong he did her, but Andrew was kissing her and she could not tell him about that for quite a time. 'My dear sweet wife,' he murmured, his lips caressing her cheek. 'Darling, when I asked you if there was anything you would have changed-did you love me then?'

  She nodded.

  'Yes, Andrew.' She leant away, her glance searching as the import of the question struck her. 'You loved me at that time?'

  'I loved you, Gail, and I did so want you to give me some indication that my love was returned. That's why I asked the question.' He kissed her tenderly, as if by so doing he could erase the memory of his disappointment on receiving her firm reply that there was nothing she would have changed.

  'How silly I was,' she said musingly. 'I quite misunderstood you, Andrew.'

  'It doesn't matter now, my love.' Her hair was a little tousled, as well it might be, and the scar was revealed. Andrew touched it with his lips. 'I love you so, my Gail-my beautiful wife.' For a long while she remained silent, and then she drew away from his embrace and stood up, turning her back to him as she gazed into the fire. 'Andrew... '

  'Sweetheart?' Surprise in his tone, and a hint of puzzlement.

  'You've told me everything, and now I have something to tell you.' She clasped her hands tightly, as if the action would give her the strength to continue as she went on to tell Andrew about Michael and the accident, and the scars on her body. She told him that Michael had been the cause of the accident, having had too much to drink. And she left the most difficult thing she had to say until the last. 'The real reason why he broke the engagement was because-because I received internal injuries....' A profound silence followed and she turned to face him, her beautiful eyes wide and a little afraid. 'Andrew, do you mind that we can never have children?' Another silence, and then she was in his arms, her head on his breast again as they stood together by the fire. He expressed deep remorse for his suspicions, but Gail pressed a finger to his lips and spoke herself, telling him she intended entering hospital to have something done about the scars.