“Hope to see you all again,” said Major Peter Frame cheerfully. “Better be on my way.”
“I’d better get my traps too,” said Jeremy.
“My suitcase is at the reception so I’ll have another cup of coffee and wait for you here,” said Alice sunnily. Jeremy put a hand briefly on her shoulder.
“Better get mine as well,” said Daphne languidly, “and get my fish out of the freezer. Hope it’ll fit in the car.”
The Cartwrights said goodbye and went off to look at equipment for the new members of the fishing school.
Alice sat alone. It was a beautiful day and she sipped her coffee and looked happily out at the sun sparkling on the loch. Perhaps she and Jeremy would return on their honeymoon.
All of a sudden she stiffened. Daphne had said something about hoping her fish would fit in the car. Which car? There was really only room for two in Jeremy’s sportscar.
She rushed out to reception and grabbed her suitcase and ran out into the courtyard. Jeremy and Daphne were laughing as they tried to find room for Daphne’s enormous salmon.
“Jeremy,” cried Alice. “I though we were going back together.”
He strolled over to her. “No, it’s only fair I should give Daphne a lift back. After all, we did travel up together.”
“But we’re engaged,” shrieked Alice. “Look! I’m wearing your ring.”
“It was only a present,” mumbled Jeremy. “I mean, I didn’t ask you to marry me, did I?”
“You slept with me,” said Alice, beginning to sob. “I might be pregnant.” She threw her arms around Jeremy’s neck.
“Good God,” he said. He jerked her arms down and ran for his car. Daphne was already sitting in the passenger seat.
Jeremy climbed in and slammed the door just as Alice ran up. Her hands scrabbled at the window as he let in the clutch. The smart red sports car gave a growl and swept off.
Alice became aware of the press watching curiously from outside the courtyard and some of the hotel servants watching as well.
She picked up her case and, with her head held high, she walked back into the hotel.
♦
Hamish and Charlie rowed slowly back to Lochdubh after an afternoon’s fishing. They had caught four mackerel and two ling. Charlie had lost his hard, calculating stare and was looking out at the world with dreamy pleasure.
“There’s Mr Johnson waiting for you,” he said as they approached the shore.
Hamish was sharply reminded of the time when they had last returned and Blair was waiting for them.
“Where have you been?” asked Mr Johnson as soon as Hamish landed on the beach. “I’ve been going out of my wits. That girl Alice Wilson had a scene with Mr Blythe and she’s disappeared. Her case is still at the reception and she hasn’t booked in for another night. The staff have been out searching for her.”
“You run along home,” said Hamish to the boy. “Don’t worry, Mr Johnson. I’ll find her.”
“Where would she go?” thought Hamish as he drove up the twisting road out of Lochdubh. “I suppose she might just keep on walking and walking.”
He drove on through the pale Highland twilight, his eyes searching from left to right of the road.
He was ten miles out of Lochdubh when his sharp eyes suddenly spied what looked like a black lump on a black rock. He drove on and parked the car around a bend in the road. Then he began to walk back to the rock, his shoes making no noise on the springy heather.
Alice sat on the rock, a picture of abject misery. She was not crying, having cried all day until she could cry no more, but she was hiccupping with dry sobs.
Hamish sat down beside her. “Only a fool would cry for someone who didn’t really want them.”
“Go away,” said Alice, turning red-rimmed eyes to his.
“No, I will not go away. You are coming with me. You have caused enough worry and trouble this day. And all over some pipsqueak you didn’t even love.”
“I love him,” wailed Alice.
“No, you don’t. Went to bed with him, didn’t you? Aye, I thought as much. So now you’ve got to pretend you love him. Och, lassie, it’s your pride that’s hurt, not your heart. There’s one silly woman charged with murder and all because of damned snobbery and here you are planning to jump in the nearest loch as soon as you get up the courage so as to make a rat like Blythe sorry.”
“I…I didn’t…I wouldn’t.”
“Look, I tried to tell you he was a snob. As soon as he decided Daphne was rich enough, he decided to settle for her. She’ll marry him. That kind always get what they want and they’ll have a dead-alive sort of marriage. You only wanted the dream, Alice. Be honest and admit it’s over.”
“What if I’m pregnant?”
“Face that when it comes. When’s your next period?” asked Hamish.
“Next week, I think.”
“Well, you’ll maybe just be all right. Come along with me and I’ll get us a drink. You’re a pretty girl and you’re young.”
“Do…do you think I’m pretty?”
“Very,” lied Hamish gallantly. “Smashing little ming, that’s what I thought when I first saw you.”
He helped her to her feet and put an arm about her shoulders and together they walked towards the road.
“It’s a grand evening to be alive,” said Hamish. “Just think about that.”
Down below them, the lights of the village twinkled in the half dark. The twilight was scented with thyme and pine and heather. A rocketing pheasant whirred up from a clump of heather at the other side of the road. Out in the loch, the fishing boats were chugging out to sea.
Hamish pulled Alice to the side of the road as he heard a car approaching. A Rolls, black and sleek, slowed. Inside sat Priscilla Halburton-Smythe. She was wearing a white evening dress and a diamond necklace sparkled against her breast. Beside her at the wheel was John Harrington. Priscilla looked at Hamish, at Hamish’s arm about Alice’s shoulders, shrugged, and said something to John, who looked across her at Hamish and Alice and laughed. Then the car sped away.
Alice took a deep breath of clean-scented air. She was feeling better already. Hamish’s arm was comforting. She glanced up at him. He really wasn’t bad-looking. His eyelashes were very long for a man and his hair was a fascinating colour of red. “You’re right,” said Alice. “Only a fool would cry for someone who didn’t really want them.”
Hamish watched the tail lights of the disappearing Rolls-Royce. “Did I say that?” he asked, and then added in so low a voice that Alice could not hear what he was saying, “If I said that then I am a very great fool indeed.”
He helped Alice into his car but he sat for a few moments, staring straight ahead.
“I’ve always wondered, Mr Macbeth,” said Alice timidly. “What’s a FEB?”
Hamish let in the clutch. “Fucking English Bastard,” he said. And with an angry screech of tyres he swung the car around and they plunged down into the heathery darkness of the road leading to Lochdubh.