Rosamunde Pilcher - September

"Yes. Of leukemia. I watched her die and it took a long time. And all that time I was resentful and bitter, because it wasn't me who was dying. And when she died, I hated myself because I was alive."

"You too."

"I think, probably, it's an inevitable reaction. One simply has to come to terms with it. It takes time. But at the end of the day, all those self-accusing and soul-searching questions are unanswerable. And so, as you Brits would say, it's bloody silly even to ask them."

There was a long pause. Then Archie grinned. "Yes. You are right. Bloody silly." He turned his face up and surveyed the sky. "You are right, Conrad." The sky was darkening. They had sat for too long, and it was becoming cold. "Perhaps we should make tracks for home. And I must apologize. For a moment, I admit, I forgot that you had tragedies of your own to deal with. I hope you will believe me when I tell you that I didn't bring you up here in order to unload my troubles onto your shoulders."

Conrad smiled. "I asked for them," he reminded Archie. He realized then that he was chilled and stiff with sitting, tucked into that hard and inhospitable perch. He rose painfully to his feet, stretching the cramps out of his legs. Out of the shelter of the rock, the wind pounced upon him, stinging his cheeks, sneaking down the back of his collar. He shivered slightly. The dogs, stirring at this promise of activity, and already thinking of their dinners, sat up and gazed with hopeful eyes into Archie's face.

"So you did. But now let us both forget it all and not speak of it again. All right, you greedy bitches, I'll take you home and feed you." He held out an arm. "Give me a hand, would you, Conrad, old boy, and heave me to my feet?"

They left the hills at last, and trundled slowly homewards, down the main glen and so back to Croy. As they came through the front door, the grandfather clock by the staircase chimed the half-hour. Half past six. The dogs were ravenous. It was long past their dinnertime and they headed straight for the kitchen. Archie glanced into the library but there did not seem to be anybody about.

"What would you like to do?" he asked his guest. "We usually eat about half past eight."

"If it's okay with you, I think I'll go up and unpack my bag. Maybe take a shower."

"Fine. Use any bathroom that doesn't happen to be occupied. And come downstairs when you're ready. If there's still nobody around, you'll find a tray of drinks in the library. Help yourself. Make yourself at home."

"That's very kind." Conrad started up the stairs and then turned back. "And thanks for today. It was special."

"Perhaps it is I who should thank you."

Conrad continued on his way. Archie followed the dogs, and in the kitchen found Lucilla and Jeff, at sink and stove, both aproned and looking industrious and companionable. Lucilla turned from some pot she was stirring.

"Dad. You're back. Where've you been?"

"Up on the moor. What are you two up to?"

"We're cooking dinner."

"Where's Mum?"

"She went to have a bath."

"Would you feed the dogs for me?"

"Of course. No problem…" She returned to her stirring. "But they've got to wait a moment, otherwise this sauce is going to end up in lumps."

He left them to their cooking, shut the door, went back to the library, poured himself a whisky and soda and, carrying the glass, climbed the stairs in search of his wife.

He found her in the bath, soaking in scented steam and looking as comic as she always did in her blue-and-white-spotted shower-cap.

"Archie." He made himself comfortable on the lavatory seat. "Where have you been?"

"To the top of Creagan Dubh."

"It must have been heavenly. Did the Sad American turn up all right?"

"Yes, and he's not sad. He's very good company. And he's called Conrad Tucker, and he happens to be an old chum of Virginia's."

"I don't believe it! You mean they know each other? What an extraordinary coincidence. But what a lucky one. It'll make him feel not so strange, dumped in this alien household." She sat up and reached for the soap. "You obviously like him?"

"Delightful man. Exceptionally nice."

"What a relief. What's he doing now?"

"Same as you, I think."

"Has he ever been to Scotland before?"

"I don't think so."

"Because I've been thinking. Neither he nor Jeff are going to be able to do any of the dances on Friday night. Do you think it would be a good idea to have a bit of instruction after dinner this evening? Provided they can get themselves through an eightsome reel and one or two others, they can at least join in some of the fun."

"Why not? Good idea. I'll look for some tapes. Where's Pandora?"

"Crashed out, I think. We didn't get home till five. Archie, would you mind if she came up the hill with you tomorrow? I told her about Vi's picnic but she said she'd rather spend the day with you. She wants to sit in your butt and chat."

"No, that's all right, provided she doesn't make too much noise. You'd better see she's got some warm clothes."

"I'll lend her my green wellies and my Barbour."

He drank whisky. Yawned. He was tired.

"How was the shopping? Did you get my cartridges?"

"Yes. And the champagne, and the candles, and enough food to feed a starving army. And I got a new dress for the dance."

"You bought a new dress?"

"No, I didn't buy it. Pandora bought it for me. And it's perfectly beautiful, and I wasn't allowed to know how much it cost, but I think probably an arm and a leg. She seems to be dreadfully rich. Do you think I should have allowed her to be so extravagant and generous?"

"If she wanted to give you a dress, there's no way you could have stopped her. She always loved giving presents. But it was kind. Am I allowed to see it?"

"No, not until Friday, when I shall astonish you with my beauty."

"What else did you do?"

"We had lunch in the Wine Bar…" Isobel, squeezing water from her sponge, considered telling Archie about Pandora and the reserved table, and then decided against it because she knew that he would disapprove. "And Lucilla bought a dress off a stall in the market."

"Oh God, it's probably full of fleas."

"I made her leave it at the cleaner's. Somebody will have to go to Relkirk on Friday morning to pick it up. But the most exciting bit of news I've kept to the end. Because Pandora bought -you a present as well, and if you hand me my towel I shall get out of the bath and show it to you."

He did this. "A present for me?" He tried to imagine what on earth his sister had brought back for him. He hoped not a gold watch, a cigar cutter, nor a tie-pin, none of which he would use. What he really needed was a new cartridge belt…

Isobel finished drying herself, pulled off the bath-cap, shook out her hair, reached for her silk dressing-gown, knotted the sash around her waist. "Come and look." He pulled himself off the lavatory and followed her through to their bedroom. "There."

It was all laid out on the bed. Tartan trews, a new white shirt still in its cellophane wrapper, black satin cummerbund, and his father's remembered green velvet smoking jacket, which Archie hadn't set eyes on since the old man died.

"Where did that come from?"

"It's been in the attic, in moth-balls. I hung it over the bath to get the wrinkles out. And the trews and the shirt are from Pandora. And I've polished your evening shoes."

He gaped. "But what's all this for?"

"Friday night, you goop. When I told Pandora you wouldn't wear your kilt, and you'd go to Verena's party in a dinner jacket, she was horrified. She said you'd look like a part-time waiter. So we visited Mr. Pittendriech and he helped us choose these." She held up the trews. "Aren't they heaven? Oh, do try it all on, Archie, I can't wait to see how you look."