Michael Ridpath - Amnesia

‘I think so,’ said Sophie.

‘They are still there though. They won’t go away.’

We sat in silence for a while, watching the view shimmer in front of us. Then Sophie leaned forward and kissed me. Not hard — very gently.

She broke away, smiled, and got to her feet. ‘It’s a long way down, we had better get going.’

Neither of us said anything for half an hour or so. The descent was tricky, it was hard to pick a way through the bogs, which were sprouting pale red cloudberries, and it required concentration.

Eventually we came to a flatter stretch by a small loch, where we picked up a stalker’s path skirting the summit, and we could walk side by side. Sophie spoke.

‘You remember when Stephen went to Hollywood and I was still in Twickenham with the kids?’

‘Yes.’

‘I thought you would come and see me then.’

‘I said I wouldn’t.’

‘I know you did. And I’m glad you didn’t. But I always sort of hoped you would.’

I smiled. ‘I almost sort of hoped I would too,’ I said. ‘It was iron discipline.’

‘It would have messed everything up,’ Sophie said. ‘Everything.’

‘I know.’

‘Anyway. Turned out I was pregnant with Rupert so that wouldn’t have been much fun.’

I walked on.

‘Sorry, Angus. Do you mind me talking to you like this?’

‘No.’ Although the inevitable question was rising in my mind. Had I been right to keep my promise? In a way Sophie was suggesting I hadn’t been. But then she was also saying she was glad I had kept away. She was clearly just as torn as me, and that was nice to know.

‘Do you mind if I ask you something?’ she said. ‘Something that is personal and definitely none of my business.’

‘No,’ I said, intrigued.

‘Why haven’t you got married?’

‘Oh, I don’t know. I almost did, right when you were hoping I would nip over to Twickenham to see you. A girl called Gillian — she was nice. It never came to anything.’

‘And then afterwards?’

‘I just didn’t come across the right person.’

‘I see. I’ve just been worried... No. It’s stupid to say it.’

‘Go on,’ I said. ‘It’s too late now.’

‘I’m just worried that you didn’t get married because of me.’

‘No,’ I said. ‘No, it wasn’t that at all. I know you’re married and you want to stay that way. And now I’m older and set in my ways, I just don’t fancy it. Marriage.’

Sophie stopped and faced me, her face clouded with worry. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Quite sure,’ I said. It was nice just to reassure her. She smiled in relief and happiness.

We stood on the hillside just looking at each other — for how long? I had no idea. Then Sophie reached up and kissed me again, softly. I held her.

‘I’m sorry, Angus, I know I shouldn’t do this, but I want to. It won’t matter, will it? Up here?’

‘No,’ I whispered. ‘It won’t matter.’

I felt the desire raging within me, threatening to overwhelm me. I kissed her again, hard.

Eventually she broke away. Her face was shining. ‘Do you mind if this is all we do? Kiss.’

‘No,’ I said, my voice croaking. I did mind, I minded desperately. The memories of the Villa Fersen flooded back to me from twelve years before. But I also wanted to make Sophie happy. And Sophie was very happy. She was so beautiful when she was happy.

The others had had a long and successful day crawling round the bogs and burns of the upper reaches of Glen Glass. They had shot two stags, which we had seen in the distance slung over the back of the garrons as they made their way down the glen back to Wyvis Lodge. The stalker had ensured that both Nathan and Stephen had kills. Tony had missed twice. But they had all enjoyed themselves. They were tired. And thirsty.

My heart was bursting. The hard physical exercise, the clear air, the astounding views and most of all, a day with Sophie, had left me ecstatic. There was no other way of describing it. I might be a middle-aged country doctor, but I didn’t feel like one. I felt like the undergraduate who had first set eyes on Sophie in Paris twenty years before. I could tell from her shining eyes and wide smile that she felt the same way too. I hoped that in the general jollity Stephen hadn’t noticed anything.

I, though, was very aware of Sophie, observing her every movement. During cocktails in the drawing room before dinner I noticed Nathan having a quiet conversation with her out of Stephen’s earshot. Although I couldn’t hear the words, I could tell from the apologetic shake of her head what Sophie was saying — she was not going to lie about Alden’s death. Although Nathan seemed to take it well while he was talking to Sophie, afterwards he stood apart from the others, staring out over the loch, deep in thought.

Sophie’s decision was going to be a problem. But just at that moment, I didn’t care.

We drank, copiously and fast. By dinner we were all drunk. The butler was happy to top us up.

Stephen drank more than the rest of us, but for most of the evening, he seemed the most sober. A function of capacity. When the port arrived — no attempt to banish the ladies this time — I slowed my drinking down. I was content just to watch Sophie, her skin glowing in the candlelight, which danced on her fair hair.

I wanted her. I wanted her so badly.

I was wrong when I had told Sophie on the mountain that the reason I was forty-three and unmarried had nothing to do with her. I had misled her, but no more than I had misled myself over the years. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I was incapable of loving anyone else. But the truth was obvious: I had never met a woman as good as her, nor was I ever going to.

I wanted her. And I knew she wanted me.

Madeleine, who was sitting next to me, leaned over. ‘It’s nice to see Sophie so happy, isn’t it?’

I turned to see what she meant by that. She knew. I wasn’t sure what exactly she knew, I wasn’t sure what there was to know, but Madeleine knew how much I meant to Sophie and Sophie meant to me. And she approved.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘It is.’

She smiled and turned to Nathan and Tony, who had become involved in a long and complicated discussion about the race to get the first man in space, something about which Nathan knew a lot and Tony virtually nothing.

‘What about Mars?’ she asked. ‘When will there be a man on Mars?’

There was a thud. Stephen’s head had rocked forward and hit the table, somehow missing the plates. It emitted a hissing sub-snore.

‘Oh, dear,’ said Tony.

‘It might be time to go to bed,’ said Nathan.

‘Can someone give me a hand?’ said Sophie.

Tony and I carried Stephen up to his and Sophie’s bedroom. As I heaved him on to the mattress and untied his shoelaces, I glanced at Sophie. I had done this before, in Capri. And I remembered very clearly what had happened next.

Sophie gave me a small smile. She was remembering the same thing.

The household went to bed as Macpherson and Mrs Ferguson cleared up, with the help of her burly son.

I lay on my bed, fully clothed. And waited. I could hear the noises in the kitchen. About ten minutes after they had fallen quiet, I slipped downstairs, and out of the front door.

It was silly really. I had no real reason to think that Sophie would be there waiting for me, apart from the smile on her face as we were putting Stephen to bed.

And the memory of the Villa Fersen.

I couldn’t see anyone. There was a half moon, and the loch glimmered gently. Meall Mòr rose steep and dark on the left, and black trees swarmed up the hillside on the right. I could see Ben Wyvis, high above, silhouetted against the soft blackblue sky.