Highland Fling (34 page)

‘That is a good idea. In fact, I do need to sort things a little. With Philip getting married, he’ll need plates and dishes, things to set up home. I might ask Henry to help me catalogue it all. There are some quite ugly pieces Gloria might like.’ Unaware of what she’d said, she picked up a bundle of forks and inspected them. ‘Were these cleaned before they were used, last night?’

‘Oh yes,’ said Jenny, and they had been, in a cursory
way. Neither Jenny nor Mrs Sandison had had time really to get between the tines.

‘I’ll go and see if there’s anything I don’t want,’ said Lady Dalmain.

Well, don’t give anything away you actually like, thought Jenny, wishing she had the courage to say it out loud, envisaging Gloria’s two boys eating frozen pizza and chips off Lady Dalmain’s cast-off Minton, mutton pies and mashed neaps off Coalport.

Before Lady Dalmain left the room, Jenny did say, ‘Of course, Felicity will need things too. And she and Lachlan might appreciate antique china a bit better than – than Gloria and her two big sons.’

Lady Dalmain took the point. ‘There is that. On the other hand, I could sell what I no longer want, and then Philip could buy something more suitable.’

‘They probably would prefer something dishwasher-safe. But Felicity would really love to have things that have been yours.’ Jenny hoped that Felicity would appreciate this attempt on her behalf to get her fairly treated and not hate having her mother’s castoffs.

Lady Dalmain regarded Jenny, slightly bewildered by the notion that she might show more affection to Philip than to Felicity. ‘I’ll make sure I treat them both completely equally, of course. I’ll just go and see what’s there.’

As she didn’t appear again, Jenny carried on doing the washing-up on her own.

Henry came into the kitchen, deeply hung over. ‘Want a hand, Jen?’ he asked, one eye shut, the other only partly open. His shirt buttons were done up wrong and his jumper was all twisted round. For
someone who cared so much about his appearance, he was a mess.

‘No, it’s all right. I’d be worrying about you dropping things all the time. You can put the furniture back later.’

‘Good do, though. Well done. I thought you did the food really well.’

‘Thank you. I thought I did the other things well too, like setting the table, arranging where everyone was to sit, clearing out the drawing room for dancing.’

‘I suppose you’re grumpy because you’ve got a hangover. God knows, I have.’

Jenny sighed. ‘No, that’s not the reason.’

‘Is there anything I could take, do you think?’

‘Lots of water, vitamin C and carbohydrates,’ she murmured, as she always murmured when he asked this question. ‘Oh, and bicarbonate of soda wouldn’t hurt.’

‘I meant something in a packet,’ he grumbled. ‘Something they advertise on television and works instantly.’

She had to smile. ‘Nothing works instantly with a hangover, love,’ she said. ‘You know that.’ Then she cleared her throat, preparing to say what had been on her mind for so long.

‘Have we got any orange juice?’

‘No. There are apples. You could eat a couple of them. Oh, and someone brought a chocolate orange. You never know, it might have some distant relative to a vitamin in it. Have some water.’

‘I want coffee.’

‘Water first, while the water’s boiling. Henry, there’s something I want to say to you.’

‘Oh, not now, Jen! Not when I feel so bloody awful.’

‘But what I’m going to say might make you feel better. And I don’t know when I’m going to get another opportunity.’

‘Oh, go on then.’ He pulled out a chair and sat at the table, his elbows in among a pile of clean saucepans. His hair flopped over his forehead and his eyes still weren’t focusing properly.

‘I’ll probably be going home soon.’

One eye opened a fraction. ‘What! What on earth for?’

‘Because, after the big meeting tomorrow, I don’t think I’ll be needed.’

Henry’s other eye opened enough to peer at Jenny in horror. ‘Why do you think that?’

‘Because I’ve no great hopes for the mill. Oh, I have worked hard, Kirsty and I have made plans, I’ve found markets, all that he asked us to do, but I still think he’s going to close it down.’

‘Did he say anything yesterday?’

‘Not about that, no.’

‘But, sweetie, what about me?’

‘What about you? Your work here must be just about done too, isn’t it?’

‘No! And, anyway, I don’t want to go back yet. I’m still planning to persuade Lady D. that this place is too big for her.’

Jenny sighed sharply. ‘Well, I don’t think much of your chances. She was loving having all those people dancing in her drawing room last night.’

‘She could have all that somewhere else.’ His headache was making him petulant and sulky. ‘Where’s the coffee, for God’s sake?’

She produced a jar she’d hidden last night, so there wouldn’t be a coffee-crisis in the morning. ‘So could your client, whoever he is. Tell him to look elsewhere for a stately home.’

‘Actually, my first client has pulled out. But I’ve got another, and the Office is keen for me to stay up here a bit longer. They’re talking of setting up an office in Inverness, putting me in charge.’

‘Oh.’

‘Not that that should make you feel obliged to stay up here for ever,’ he went on, spooning instant coffee into a mug as if it was a delicate task requiring a lot of concentration.

‘Oh?’ Jenny didn’t feel so obliged, but Henry had a subtext and she wanted to discover it.

‘No, I mean – I’ve been meaning to talk to you about us for a little while now.’

Oh my God, thought Jenny, please don’t say he’s going to propose now, still half drunk, covered in stubble, with breath like a dragon’s after a beef vindaloo.

‘I know I haven’t been very attentive lately …’

Jenny hadn’t noticed. She hadn’t been very attentive herself. ‘We’ve both been busy –’

‘That wasn’t why, though. The thing is, sweetie –’

Felicity chose this moment to appear. Her hair was falling down her back and she was still wearing last nighf s make-up. It was her slightly inane smile that told Jenny she’d smuggled Lachlan up to her bedroom.

‘Hi, Felicity,’ she said. ‘Henry and I are just having a bit of a chat. We’ll go away and have it somewhere else. Let you get your tea.’

‘Fine,’ said Felicity. ‘We can catch up later.’

Jenny drew Henry out of the kitchen, along the hallway and out of the front door. ‘Now, Henry, are you going to propose, or are you going to dump me? I should say that I’d prefer you to dump me, as I’m certainly not going to agree to marry you.’

‘Oh,’ said Henry. ‘Well, I wouldn’t have said I was going to dump you, but there is someone else, yes.’

‘You weren’t going to keep me on, as a fall-back position?’ Jenny’s voice was serious, but inside she was beginning to see the funny side.

‘No, of course not.’ He paused. ‘I was going to ask you to pretend we’re still together, so I could go on staying here. Bit pathetic, I know.’

‘Because it’s convenient for visiting Fiona Malcolm?’

Henry nodded. ‘God, I am a cad!’

Jenny laughed. ‘What a lovely old-fashioned word! And you’re not one, really you’re not. But I can’t stay here unless I’m needed at the mill. Surely you can see that?’

‘You don’t want to go, do you?’

She sighed. ‘In some ways, I suppose not. Now I’ve got used to the cold, and I have learnt to love the mountains. They have a sort of stern beauty that’s grown on me in a way I didn’t quite expect.’ How much of this was tied up with her feelings for Ross Grant-Dempsey she couldn’t untangle. ‘Oh look! The snowline’s much lower now.’

‘Apparently it’s going to be a really hard winter. All the locals say that once in five years the snow gets really deep.’ He hesitated. ‘You love snow. Stay here and enjoy it. I know that Lady D. really likes having you here. She won’t know if you’re needed at the mill
or not. We’ve had so many happy times together. I would hate to fall out with you, Jen.’

‘I won’t fall out with you, Henry.’

‘So you’ll stay? At least until the New Year?’

‘I really don’t think I can if I’m not needed. But I won’t rush off before I’ve tied up all the loose ends. Will that do you?’

He kissed the top of her head. ‘You’re a real poppet.’

As she went back into the house she wondered how it was that when you were parting from people, they often became far more endearing than they had been for ages.

She did have her own reasons for staying – at least until the New Year: Ross’s last words, said to her among the bustle and noise of everyone’s leave-taking, had been, ‘See you at Hogmanay.’

This was mystifying. She’d see him the next day – in possibly very difficult circumstances. He couldn’t have forgotten. Or was he hoping to carry on a relationship with her, after the mill was closed? Could she have anything to do with a man who had put dozens of people out of work, who had obviously planned to move into Dalmain House, (she realised now that he must have been Henry’s original client) and had probably only stopped wanting to evict Lady Dalmain when he saw the ghastliness of her domain?

It wasn’t hard to answer. It was no.

A small voice suggested to Jenny that perhaps she’d better wait until he’d actually done all those things before she made up her mind. Another wondered how his potential villainy squared with his wonderful tenderness with Anna.

Ignoring them both, Jenny went back to the kitchen where she found Felicity and Lachlan, debating whether or not to announce his presence to Lady Dalmain or keep quiet about it. Lachlan was all for being open, but Felicity was in a froth. Jenny added her two penn’orth to Lachlan’s side, saying that Lady D. didn’t have to know where Lachlan slept – he could easily have used Philip’s old bedroom – besides, Felicity was over forty and was entitled to a sex life. Then she retreated. She had a report to write. Besides, there was a lot of furniture still to move and a huge pool of dog sick outside the pantry.

When she looked up from her laptop, seemingly hours later, freezing cold and stiff, she saw it had been snowing. The world was bathed in purple shadows, with patches of gold where lights from the house shone on to the falling snow. ‘Oh wow!’ she said, and ran downstairs, wondering if anyone had a sledge.

Jenny shouldn’t have been surprised that the Dalmains didn’t share her Sassenach enthusiasm for snow, but she thought they might have been a bit happier about it. From the hall, Jenny could see Lachlan, sitting awkwardly on a chair with a Royal Worcester cup and saucer on his knee. Lady Dalmain was delivering a lecture on the decline of civilisation as demonstrated by their reluctance to do Scottish dancing.

‘Lots of young people enjoy reeling,’ Lachlan replied, eyeing Jenny, but not betraying her. ‘It’s just the Malcolm girls had possibly had a bit much of it, their parents being such enthusiasts.’

‘I still feel it was bad manners for them to leave the party like that and disappear upstairs. I expect Philip’s
room smelt like a public house after they’d been there, didn’t it?’

Jenny hovered, not wanting to have to join them in the drawing room, yet eager to hear Lachlan’s reply. It was worth waiting for.

‘I didn’t sleep in Philip’s room,’ he said. ‘I slept with Felicity.’

Chapter Twenty-one

When Jenny awoke the next morning she was aware of the light being different. She staggered across to the window, pulling on clothes at random. The snow now lay in drifts.

Usually she loved snow – no child with a new sledge wanted thick snow more than Jenny, normally. But today she had to go to the mill and face Ross Grant-Dempsey, and discover everyone’s fate. And a lifetime in the Home Counties had not taught her to drive in snowy conditions.

She went downstairs to see what it looked like close to. The dogs scampered about in it, burying their noses in it, sneezing, biting it, and attacking little hillocks with an abandon Jenny wished she could share. But although it seemed fairly deep, the road wasn’t completely covered. There may be no reason at all why she shouldn’t just drive to the mill in the normal way.

Her car, half buried under a snowdrift, was going to take some time to clear. The meeting was scheduled for ten o’clock. It was now only seven. No need to worry; there was plenty of time.

Felicity came into the kitchen while Jenny was boiling kettles to defrost her car. There had been an almighty row between her and her mother, which,
much to her surprise, Felicity had won. Lachlan was still at Dalmain House.

‘Hi!’ said Felicity. ‘What do you want all that hot water for? The pipes aren’t frozen, are they?’

‘They may well be, but I need this for my car. I have to go to the mill today, remember?’

‘No chance! You’ll never get down the hill, not in a car, anyway. Lachlan’s just rung a neighbour and asked him to do the llamas for another day. They won’t have gritted the main road yet, and no one can get anywhere until they do that.’

‘This isn’t a matter of choice, Felicity. There’s a very important meeting, I have to be there!’

She shrugged. When there’s this much snow, we just have to stay put. Easier for those of us with agoraphobia, I agree.’ Felicity smiled. It was possibly the first time she had ever been able to make a joke about her condition. ‘Just as well there are plenty of leftovers. Perhaps you could make soup.’