Anne Douglas (18 page)

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Authors: The Handkerchief Tree

BOOK: Anne Douglas
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‘Wouldn’t say that,’ Cassie responded cheerfully. ‘I’m worried about doing the flowers, but when you’ve worked for folk like the Misses Orde, you don’t mind the customers.’

‘You’re doing really well, I’m proud of you,’ Shona told her later. ‘And Mr Kyle’s pleased with you, too. He said so.’

‘Still so much to learn, though. I don’t think I’ll ever be as good as you at making up bouquets and all of that. And then it’s been grand getting to know the girls here, but I never know what to say to that long drink o’ water who works on the accounts, or the lady who does the typing. As for Mr Kyle, he’s so big and confident, I feel sort o’ squashed when he’s around.’

As she gazed at Shona, Cassie’s eyes glinted a little and she gave a little smile.

‘You manage all right, though, eh? Because anybody can see he’s sweet on you.’

‘He’s what?’ Shona cried, putting on as good an act as possible. ‘That’s news to me.’

‘Shona, you don’t need to pretend with me. We’re friends, remember? It’s just the way he looks at you gives it all away. What’s the harm in talking about it?’

‘He thinks I look like a girl he knew, that’s all. She died, of the Spanish flu.’

‘A girl he knew who died? And you’re taking her place?’

‘No, no, that’s as far as it goes. He knows I’m different from that poor girl.’

‘And you’ve never been out with him?’

Shona looked away. ‘Only once. We went to see
The Jazz Singer
.’

‘Do you like him?’ Cassie asked softly.

‘I’m – I’m no’ sure.’

‘Be careful, then.’

‘Why does everyone tell me that? He’s no’ going to hurt me!’

‘I was thinking of you hurting him,’ Cassie said quietly, at which Shona was silent.

‘Must get on,’ she murmured at last. ‘Back to the Christmas wreath pipeline.’ Where she was able to work very hard and very fast and give herself no time for thought at all.

It was a day or two later that Fraser caught her as she was leaving the workroom, and asked her how things were going.

‘Very well indeed, Mr Kyle.’

‘There’s no one around; you can call me Fraser.’

‘You know our rule. When at work, it’s Mr Kyle.’

He shrugged. ‘No matter. Nice to know we’re doing so well. As a matter of fact, Stuart MacNay has already told me takings are up from the same time last year.’

‘Because of the plant room, I expect.’

‘Maybe so.’ He looked down at her, his gaze direct as always. ‘But that’s enough of work talk. How about coming out for dinner tomorrow evening? Not singing carols or something, are you?’

She laughed and shook her head.

‘Well, then? Are you interested?’

She hesitated, Cassie’s words echoing in her mind. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Fraser, but then she might not. One dinner out – she wouldn’t mind going. She still felt that pull he could exert, because of his huge personality, of who he was. It was hard to say no. ‘I – yes – I’d like to come,’ she heard herself say. ‘As long as it’s somewhere ordinary.’

‘Ordinary? Look, I like to eat somewhere good. Why ordinary?’

‘I don’t want you to be spending a lot of money.’

He relaxed, smiling, and squeezed her hand.

‘Don’t worry about that. But if you insist, we can go to a nice little place in Frederick Street that doesn’t charge the earth. And no nonsense this time about meeting me in town. I’ll pick you up at seven. That all right?’

‘Fine,’ said Shona.

Thirty-Eight

When she followed Fraser into the restaurant he had chosen, Shona felt surprisingly touched. Checked tablecloths, waitresses instead of waiters, a handwritten menu pinned to the wall – this was more a café than a restaurant, and had been Fraser’s choice solely to please her. Left to himself, she was sure he’d have gone for one of those places she’d have found so nerve-racking, all white linen tablecloths, snooty waiters and menus in French, and then would have enjoyed showing her how well he could handle it all. But he’d brought her here instead, somewhere she’d find just right, and she appreciated his thought.

‘This do?’ he asked as they were settled into a corner table.

‘It’s perfect. Thank you, Fraser.’

‘Only aim to please. Now, what shall we have? Shame, there’s no wine here. We could have toasted each other in a good red, eh?’

‘You’ll guess I don’t know much about wine.’ Shona laughed. ‘Never taught that at Edina Lodge.’

‘I could teach you,’ he said seriously. ‘One of the pleasures of life is drinking wine. Maybe next time we go out, you’ll let me introduce you to it.’

There it was again, she noted, this willingness of his to talk about other times to be together, as though they already had a future. Better not go into that now, thought Shona and concentrated on the menu, choosing a mushroom first course and a chicken dish, while Fraser ordered the mushrooms and a steak, with pudding a later option.

‘Excellent!’ cried Fraser. ‘Now we’ve got that out of the way, we can get down to the serious business of talking about each other. That’s what folk do, eh, when they first go out together?’

‘I don’t know about that,’ Shona replied, thinking back to evenings with the young men she’d known.

Neil Boath, who worked at the same bank as Willa’s husband, Joey MacGibbon, from the Post Office, Archie Smith, now a fully fledged sailor. Not one of them had talked about her, all, even Archie, being too preoccupied with their own affairs. Sometimes she’d tried to get a word in and they’d been polite, but what, after all, could she talk about that would be interesting to them? The orphanage? The flower shop? Fixing her hazel eyes on Fraser, she wondered – would he be any different? Well, he certainly wouldn’t need to be told about the flower shop!

‘What are you thinking?’ he asked softly. ‘About all the young men you’ve been out with? I can’t believe they didn’t want to know everything about you.’ As their first course arrived, he paused for a moment, then continued casually, ‘I suppose there have been a number of young men, have there?’

‘Only three.’

‘Three. That’s not counting the doctor chap?’

‘The doctor?’ Shona raised her eyebrows. ‘Fraser, he’s not really anything to do with me. He can’t be counted.’

‘If you say so. Just have the feeling he was someone important in your life.’

‘Well, that was true once, but I haven’t seen him for years.’

‘Seen those three, though. They weren’t important?’

‘They were not! Look, Fraser, why don’t we talk about you instead of me? You know everything about me. I lost my folks, I went to the orphanage, I got the job at Maybel’s. That’s all. So, tell me about yourself. About your family, for instance.’

He shrugged. ‘Nothing out of the ordinary about us. There was Mum and Dad, my sister and me. My dad had a good business and we were happy enough. Then Mum died a couple of years before the war. I was sixteen, Heather twenty. Hit us hard, as you can imagine.’

‘Fraser, I’m sorry.’ Shona put her hand over his. ‘Nobody knows better than me what that’s like.’

‘I know.’ With his free hand, he covered hers, but then the waitress came to remove their empty plates and Shona took her hand away. It was some moments before Fraser continued. ‘I found my consolation a year or so later when I met Meggie. We were both very young but we knew it was serious. I asked her to marry me when we’d saved a bit, but then the war came and I joined up. Never thought she wouldn’t be there for me when I got back. But you already know about that.’

‘You’ve had a bad time,’ Shona said quietly. ‘No one would know.’

‘I don’t usually talk about it.’

Their main course arrived and for a time they ate in silence, until Fraser finished and put his knife and fork together. ‘What saved me next was work,’ he told Shona. ‘Expanding Dad’s business, making money. He wasn’t keen, wanted me to keep things the same – until I became successful, when he gave me a free hand. Then he went to join Mum, had a heart attack completely out of the blue, and I decided that if life was as short as that, I might as well do what I wanted to do. I’d always been interested in plants, thought working with them would be a good prospect for me and took a risk. Sold my dad’s shops, bought MacVicar’s, bought Maybel’s, met you.’ He smiled. ‘There you are, Shona, you know it all.’

It was hard to know what to say. Meeting her – that was hardly on the same level as everything else he’d told her, but the more Shona listened to him, the more she felt that their meeting had taken on a significance for him that was hard to believe. If only she could have been thrilled about it. If only she had wanted it to happen as much as he had . . .

‘I think you did the right thing,’ she said at last. ‘I mean, switching to do what you wanted to do. And then doing so well.’

‘Maybe.’ He grinned. ‘I could still fall flat on my face, you know. But let’s think about a pudding. Do you want to see the menu – or just have coffee?’

‘Coffee would be nice. Thank you, Fraser.’

‘No need to thank me. I’m grateful to you for coming. But after coffee, maybe I’d better get you home. I have a feeling it might snow tonight. Think we’ll have a white Christmas?’

Outside the café there was indeed a distinct feeling of snow in the air, though as yet there was no sign of it. Just time, they thought, to run to the car and beat the fall, but they were in fact too late, for as they reached the West End the snow flakes were already whirling around and settling on the road.

‘It’s not far; here’s the bridge,’ Fraser said cheerfully. ‘Gently does it, down the hill, then, to your Mrs Gow’s door.’

‘I hope you’ll be all right getting back,’ Shona said worriedly.

‘What, to George Street? I think I’ll manage to get through a bit of snow as far as that!’

‘As long as you don’t skid.’

He looked at her in the darkness of the car, for he had carefully avoided the street lamp, and reached out to touch her hand. ‘You’d really care if I did?’

‘Wish you wouldn’t talk like that,’ Shona said, suddenly flustered. Look, I think you’d better go before it gets too thick to get up the hill.’

‘I’m on my way. Just want to say, Shona, that it’s been a grand evening with you.’

‘I’m the one to say that. It was grand, it was lovely. Thank you very much.’

He was still holding her hand, still watching her face. ‘There’s something else I want to say. I know I’m a good bit older than you and you might prefer to be with someone younger – no, don’t say anything – but I would like it if we could go out together occasionally. I swear I won’t make a nuisance of myself, but you must have realized I’m very attracted to you.’ Suddenly he let her hand go. ‘You can’t blame me for wanting to be with you.’

As she sat very still, watching the snowflakes dancing on his windscreen, he leaned towards her, took her in his arms and kissed her gently. ‘What’s it to be?’ he whispered, releasing her. ‘Going to give me a little hope?’

‘I – well, we could go out sometimes,’ she said slowly.

‘You’d like to?’

‘Yes. All right, I’d like to.’

He gave a short sigh, then leaped from the car to open her door.

‘Better run in,’ he said hoarsely. ‘Take care now!’

‘Goodnight!’ she called from Mrs Gow’s door.

‘Goodnight, Shona. See you in the morning.’

She was not surprised, when she went into the house, to find Mrs Hope sitting with Mrs Gow beside the range, empty teacups to hand, aware that they often called on each other to have a ‘wee chat’. Still, she would rather not have had two pairs of eyes fixed on her so expectantly as she shook the snow from her coat and hat in the doorway.

‘Shona!’ cried Mrs Hope. ‘Nice to see you!’

‘Had a good time?’ asked Mrs Gow. ‘I’ve got the kettle ready if you’d like a cup of tea.’

‘I had a lovely time, thanks.’ Shona came nearer to the range to warm herself. ‘But I won’t have any tea – I’ve just had coffee.’

‘No’ snowing, is it?’ asked Mrs Hope. ‘Oh, that’s me, then, Joan, I’d best get home.’ She rose, pushing her chair towards Shona. ‘Come on, pet, come and get warm. Which young man was it tonight, then? I always knew you’d never be short of admirers!’

‘Her boss tonight,’ Mrs Gow put in. ‘This is the second time he’s taken her out.’

‘Oh, fancy!’ Mrs Hope’s round brown eyes widened. ‘The boss, eh?’

‘It’s no’ what you think,’ Shona said quickly. ‘We’re just friends.’

The older women exchanged smiles.

‘He’ll be a lot older than you, eh?’ asked Mrs Hope. ‘And never married?’

‘He was engaged, but his girl died of the Spanish flu.’

Again, the other women exchanged glances, but now without smiles.

‘Very sad,’ sighed Mrs Gow. ‘But he must be ready now to look for someone else. Could be you, Shona.’

‘Aye, and he’d be a good catch,’ Mrs Hope said eagerly. ‘A man like him, with his own business!’

‘I don’t want a good catch!’ Shona cried, aware that she didn’t really know what she wanted, and moved towards the door. ‘Think I’ll be going to bed now, Mrs Gow. Mrs Hope, it was grand to see you. Wrap up well for the snow.’

‘Goodnight, pet,’ Mrs Hope responded, hurrying to the door to give Shona a quick hug. ‘Sorry if I upset you, talking of your boss. I ken fine, it’s none o’ my business.’

‘Aye, we’d best leave the lassie to know what’s best for her,’ said Mrs Gow. ‘Shona, you could do your hot bottle, seeing as the kettle’s ready. Addie, do you want an umbrella?’

‘No, no, it’s no distance home. I’m away, then. See you soon!’

While the two women were fussing at the door, Shona found her stone-cast hot water bottle and began filling it from the kettle, mulling over what had been said. None of her business, Mrs Hope had declared, meaning what happened between Shona and her boss, and that was true. It was Shona’s business, only hers. And she didn’t know what to do about it.

If she’d said she didn’t want to see him again, that would have been the end of it, so why hadn’t she? Just because he was her boss, had she thought it unwise? No, no, more that she didn’t want to hurt him, as Cassie had said she might. For he had let her see, unknowingly, she was sure, that under all his outer strength and confidence, there lay a vulnerable man.

Thirty-Nine

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