Authors: Unknown
“Och! A fine way to be brought to the ship,” Mrs. MacKenzie declared. “On McDougall’s handcart! But I could not have walked.”
She closed her eyes in exhaustion when Judith had settled her comfortably in one of the cabin berths. “Thank you, my dear. That’s fine.”
The return journey was calmer than the outward one, for wind and tide helped instead of hindering. Mrs. Mackenzie was transferred to the waiting ambulance at Cruban, after thanking Stuart for his help.
Stuart was in the act of casting off again for Kylsaig, when Fiona came running along the promenade.
“Lucky I saw you!” she called, running down the steps.
Stuart helped her aboard and started off across the harbour.
“Where have you all been?” she wanted to know. Judith briefly told her of the journey. “It was an emergency call.”
Fiona frowned. “Why didn’t you ask me to go, Stuart?”
“For the simple reason that you weren’t there to be asked. I didn’t know where you were.”
“Do you always know where Judith is, then?”
He laughed at Fiona’s obvious ill-humour. “Certainly not. Judith wouldn’t let me boast of that.”
“It was just a case of taking another woman along, any woman who was available, for the sake of Mrs. Mackenzie,” Judith put in.
She was not particularly interested in Fiona’s displeasure, but more in the idle steamers tied up at the quay and the enormous stacks of goods awaiting transport.
“How much longer will the strike last, do you think?” she asked Stuart.
“There’s talk of a settlement, but nobody knows when the men will start work again.”
On arrival at Kylsaig ferry, Neil jumped on to the slipway and gave his hand to help Judith ashore. As he did so, he held her in his arms for a couple of seconds, but she gently pulled herself away. Neil was only anxious to show off in front of Stuart.
“Thanks, Huntly, for bringing us back. I’ll be available if you want me to crew on further errands of mercy.” Stuart’s gaze was steady, and Judith shivered a little at the hard coldness in his eyes. She was aware, too, of the triumphant smile on Fiona’s lovely face, a smile which said plainly, “Flirting with Neil again?”
“Glad you brought us back to this side of Kylsaig,” Neil added before Stuart could speak. “I’ll see that Judith is safely conveyed to her home. But can’t you use your own slipway?”
Stuart made slight grimaces with his mouth. “I can, but one doesn’t unnecessarily use a private slipway when the official ferryman is away on other business.” He gave Neil a frosty smile. “But you couldn’t be expected to know our customs. Then, too, I have my more perceptive moments. Goodnight, Judith. And thanks for coming.”
The boat was several yards away and moving rapidly. Judith called out “Goodnight,” but Stuart was already talking to Fiona.
“Come along, Judith.” Neil put his arm around her shoulders, ostensibly to help her up the steep, hilly path, and now she wondered if Stuart and Fiona were watching, but she refused to look back. She tried to disengage Neil’s hand from her shoulder, but he imprisoned her fingers tightly.
“Are you afraid somebody may see us? It’s only Stuart and Fiona.”
She was hardly reassured, for she was thinking of Stuart’s reference to his own perceptive powers. Did he mean that he was doing her a kindness by pushing her towards Neil, by ensuring that Neil would have the longest distance to cover in escorting her home?
A small clump of trees and a bend in the path had now hidden her and Neil from the view of anybody crossing the Sound. Perversely, he dropped his arm from her shoulder and walked a step or two apart from her. Why couldn’t he have done that sooner? she asked herself angrily.
“Made up your mind yet, Judith, about whether you’re going or staying?” he asked suddenly.
“No. I’m not sure.”
“Then let me make it up for you.” Without warning, he grabbed her by the elbows. “Marry me—and then we can stay or go, whichever pleases us.”
“But, Neil! I don’t—”
“Don’t what? You’re not going to tell me that this is so sudden! You know how I feel about you. I love you. I want to marry you.”
She turned her face away, but he put his hand under her chin. “You’re not going to turn me down, are you?”
“I’m afraid so,” she whispered. “I’m sorry, Neil. I—”
“What’s the use of being sorry now?” he asked, almost savagely. “You’ve led me on to believe—”
“I haven’t led you on at all. That’s only in your imagination. I’ve tried to—to be friendly, that’s all.”
“I don’t want your friendship. I want love.”
“But, Neil, one can’t arrange these things to order.”
“Are you telling me that you’re in love with someone else?” he demanded, his dark eyes seeking to compel the truth from her.
“No. I’m not in love with anybody.”
“Not with Huntly? For God’s sake, tell me the truth.”
“No.” As she said the word, she knew it was a lie.
“I’m not sure,” he said slowly. “I think you’re playing us off against each other.”
Judith gasped slightly, for those were the words that Mairi had used. Perhaps without mentioning names, Mairi had told Neil this facet of Judith’s character.
“Where would be the sense of that?” she asked now. “I’m determined that he shan’t win. That’s all.”
She made some effort to resume walking towards home, but he caught her by the wrist and drew her into his arms, kissing her with bruising force in which there was little tenderness.
“Let me go, Neil!” she pleaded when she recovered her breath. “Try to be sane about it.”
“I can’t be sane about you! I’m mad for you! I don’t want to look at any other woman.”
“Neil, it makes me unhappy to hear you saying these things when Mairi is away on holiday.”
“Mairi? What has she to do with us? To blazes with Mairi!”
“But she loves you.”
“Well, I don’t love her, and I’ve never given her the slightest reason to think so. I love you, Judith darling.”
“But if I’d never come to Kylsaig, you wouldn’t have met me and you’d probably have married Mairi in the end. Now I feel that I’ve spoilt everything for her.”
“You’ve spoilt nothing for her. Only for me. You’ve made me dissatisfied with everything—the life I lead, the man I am, even the man I was. But I can alter all that. Judith, if you’ll marry me, I’ll go back to my own profession. I’ll chuck up this island life—I suppose I only came here to get away from everything else I’d known— to lick my wounds. But I’m still a good scientist. I don’t think I’d find it hard to get a job. Not now, anyway. I’ve paid for my carelessness. But without you, I can do nothing. I shall just drift on—like my own stupid sheep, too dumb to keep on the right side of a field.”
When she remained silent, he went on, “Of course, I know I can’t offer you a tenth of what Huntly could. He’s the great laird, the lord of the isles and, in spite of all his welfare schemes, he sees to it that his pockets remain well lined.”
“Don’t talk about Stuart,” she murmured.
“Why not? Can’t you bear it? Look, Judith, even if you married him, the life wouldn’t suit you. You can see for yourself what’s happened to your sister. When people uproot themselves from a known way of living, they take a long time to adjust themselves, and sometimes they break in the process—as Barbara has.”
“But you uprooted yourself. Haven’t you settled down?”
“No. I think I always regarded it as only a temporary state. It needed you to supply a new driving force. Now I know what I want—the sort of life. But without you, it’s dead.”
Neither of them had heard the approach of somebody walking towards them until Mrs. Drummond appeared only a few yards away.
She beamed at Judith and Neil. “You’ll be coming home from the ferry, no doubt. Have you had a pleasant day?”
Judith explained about the trip to Caronsay.
“In Stuart’s boat? Now, there’s a pity that Mairi was not here to help, too. Och, but she’s enjoying herself in Edinburgh, and no worries about coming home when she’s ready.”
“Perhaps she’ll be able to have her other holiday in Ireland when the strike is over,” Judith said sympathetically. She turned towards Neil. “Perhaps you could see Mrs. Drummond to her home? I can easily go the rest of the way by myself.”
“Och, indeed, no! It’s not dark yet. I’m used to the path.” She gave Neil a coy glance. “Besides, young people ought to be escorting each other and not old folks like me.”
Mrs. Drummond called “Goodnight” and went off down the path.
Out of earshot, Judith said quietly, “I wish she hadn’t come along just then. I suppose she’s been over to see Barbara.”
“What does it matter?”
“It matters because she’ll immediately tell Mairi—even write to the girl and spoil her holiday.”
“Well, now she knows that I’m the faithless wretch she’s always considered me,” Neil growled.
Judith stared at him. “Don’t you understand that she’s overjoyed at finding us together? She’s never wanted Mairi to marry you. It’s her fondest dream that Mairi will make a match with Stuart.”
“With Stuart Huntly?” Neil’s head went back and he shouted with laughter. “And here I’ve been wasting endless time trying to be polite to the old meddler, if only for Mairi’s sake.”
“Why did you allow Mairi to become so fond of you, then?”
“How could I help that?” he demanded. “You might as well ask yourself why you allowed me to fall in love with you.”
She saw that in trying to protect Mairi, she had put herself in an exposed position.
“Let’s walk on. It’s getting late and I’m not sure whether Andy will be home. I don’t like leaving Barbara alone with the children.”
He walked by her side for a while in resentful silence. Then he said, “Don’t turn me down flat, darling. At least say you’ll think about me.”
“What would be the use, Neil? Won’t you face it now?”
“No. I shall be persistent. I’ll make you change your mind. And whatever you decide to do—whether you stay here permanently with Barbara and Andy, or go back to London—I shall be where you are.”
She smiled gently. “You sound like a haunting spirit. If I decided to go back, you couldn’t sell your sheep and your farm at a moment’s notice.”
“Don’t rely on that. I can put everything into the hands of an agent.”
“Kylsaig doesn’t mean anything to you, does it?”
They were now at the gate of Andy’s house, and Neil took her hands. “It means everything to me, because it’s where I met you.” He planted two surprisingly gentle kisses on the back of her hands and went off with long strides along the path.
Judith welcomed the opportunity to answer questions from Andy and Barbara about the journey to Caronsay, for in that way she was able to stave off the inner questions that lay unanswered in her own heart.
How could she have been so unwary as to fall into such a trap and not even recognise the fact until one man offered her love and marriage? With Mairi’s pitiable example before her, Judith thought she might have had more sense than to plunge irrevocably in love with Stuart. She remembered Neil’s carelessly spoken remark about Mairi that other night when he had first kissed her—about mistaking friendship for love. Had she now mistaken Stuart’s kindly interest for love? Recalling the hard set of his mouth and the coldness in his eyes only an hour ago, she could hardly believe that this was his own personal attitude of loving. It did not denote even friendship.
JUDITH crossed the fish quay in Cruban. Now that the seamen’s strike had been settled more than a week ago, steamer services were running normally and the mountainous piles of cargo had been cleared, although there were bitter complaints that fruit, fresh vegetables and other perishables had suffered during the hot weather.
She was alone, for if Barbara had accompanied her they would have gone into the town by the back streets leading from the shore. Barbara hated the wet, slimy cobbles and the smell of fish, but Judith found the place interesting. There was the “skate-man” as she mentally called him, a man wearing a thick leather apron and wielding a sharp knife as he chopped off head, backbone and middle. Judith wondered if the man saw skate in his dreams, for few jobs could have been more monotonous.
There was the old man who patiently pushed a barrow piled with fish boxes and was sometimes rewarded with a couple of fine soles for his supper. Whenever the steamers came in, an almost ragged man wearing the oldest clothes, overcoat and cap even in the hottest weather, handled the ship’s ropes and tied up to the bollards. Once, Judith had seen him cycling furiously from the fish quay to the pierhead to arrive in time for an incoming steamer.
Little imagination was needed to realise that even here in Cruban, a prosperous little seaside resort, some people were forced to scrape a bare existence and lived permanently on the edge of poverty. She was beginning to understand something of Stuart’s desire to bring about improvements.
This morning she experienced renewed doubts about the wisdom of trying to stay in Scotland permanently, or at least for a year or so, if Barbara and Andy remained that long.
Barbara had again declared how easy it would be for Judith to get herself a job in Cruban.
“If you were here, Judith, I believe I could stick out the winter and probably next summer. After that—well, who knows?”
“I could try, I suppose.” Judith had tried to sound noncommittal, for she could no longer disguise to herself that her growing attachment to Kylsaig was not solely due to sisterly affection.
“I wish you’d let Graham manage something for you,” Barbara continued.
“No, thanks. I don’t want Graham to wangle anything on my behalf. I’ll get my own job—if I want one.”
Perhaps it was a touch of subtlety to bring Graham’s name into the conversation. Barbara knew how touchy and independent her sister could be.
“After all, whatever job you have might not be for very long, darling,” Barbara had gone on smoothly. “There’s Neil, of course—”
Judith had not disclosed any hints of Neil’s passionate outpourings. He had done that himself, imploring Barbara to help him if she could. So Judith felt that she was now being attacked on two fronts.
“I wish you’d put that idea out of your head, Barbara. I’ve told you that I don’t want to marry him.”