with our decision, that was all that mattered — and she had given me a tentative date for our wedding. I noticed that she and Sandy had both mentioned ‘cooling off, but I dismissed the doubts I had begun to feel when I visited the Stone House and which, I admit, I had experienced while I was in Scotland; and I felt grateful to Hera for having so far accepted our refusal to take her into partnership. I even began to read the advertisements of houses for sale in the more desirable commuter districts. I had no intention that Hera and my children should live in London and, in any case, I did not want her too near the office. She had formed a habit of ‘dropping in’ when she was not otherwise engaged, and this I intended to do my best to check when we were married.
However, even this inconvenient habit she ceased entirely after our talk. We met for dinner most evenings, sometimes at my flat — where my housekeeper was quite pleased to cater for two instead of one, especially as we had an arrangement that I should pay her a little extra on these occasions, and that she should get off early and leave the washing-up until the morning. Sometimes I dined with Hera, who did her own delicious cooking when she was at home. Mostly, however, we went out for the meal and then spent the rest of the evening, and occasionally the night, together, either at her place or mine. All my qualms about marrying her vanished and about three happy weeks went by with no unpleasant surprises and no evil dreams. Bingley, of course, was still about, but even he and his suspicions troubled me no longer.
11: Mugdock Wood or Thereabouts
« ^ »
This interval of comparative peace gave me a chance of settling down to work again. I enjoyed my job and had always got on well not only with Sandy but with our office staff, so that everything connected with the agency always went smoothly except for an occasional breeze created by a dissatisfied author. These rufflings of the waters we had learned to encounter without trepidation, for they soon blew over and normal conditions were restored.
We had not, so far, worked the agency up to the stage where we could decline to represent an author until he had had at least one publication to his credit, but we had several good old faithfuls whose work we could always sell and Sandy had begun to talk hopefully of going over to America to canvass the possibilities of starting a branch of our business in the States.
What sometimes caused me a little disquiet was Hera’s changed behaviour and attitude towards me. I was not surprised any longer by her calm acceptance of our veto on a partnership for her. I guessed that she was biding her time until a new opportunity presented itself for a further onslaught on our defences. Sandy thought the same.
‘She has taken it much too well,’ he said, ‘for a woman who does not like to be thwarted. I hope she is all right — not sickening for anything or considering going into a nunnery or becoming a missionary or anything of that sort?’
‘If so, she doesn’t mention it. As for her health, she could not possibly be more blooming. She is lively and entertaining, has an excellent appetite and says she sleeps well.’
‘Says?’
‘She thinks we ought to pack that sort of thing up now until we are married. I’m in full agreement, so I have only her word for how well she sleeps.’
‘It didn’t seem to suit you too well on your Scottish tour.’
‘It was different then. We were together all day and every day, so it seemed strange to part at night. Under present circumstances, I’m all in favour of holding off until after the wedding.’
He eyed me and said, ‘Hm! Fancy that, now!’
‘Meaning what?’
‘Just hoping that abstinence, like absence, makes the heart grow fonder.’
‘She is much more companionable, less censorious and certainly more beautiful than I’ve ever known her.’
‘Bless you, my innocent boy!’
‘Meaning what?’ I asked for the second time.
‘Devious creatures, the females of the species. Speaking probably out of turn, but as an old friend and well- wisher, don’t you wonder what she’s up to?’
‘I know what she’s up to, and you and I have both given voice to it. It’s the lull before the storm. She hasn’t given up hope of storming this little fortress of ours. You don’t need to warn me about that. I’m quite ready for the bombardment when it comes. No, what worries me is the bloom on her cheeks and the light in her eyes.’
‘That’s what I meant,’ he said. ‘Watch out and don’t forget my holiday is due very soon. I shan’t be on hand to espouse your cause once I go on furlough.’
It was my turn to hold the fort while Sandy went on holiday. Even before I met Hera, one of the disadvantages of the agency had been that he and I could never take our holidays together as we had always done in the halcyon days at college. A week before he was due to take his three weeks’ leave I enquired what his plans were, for it was unlike him not to have mentioned them earlier. Usually he was full of enthusiasm and Hera and I knew weeks beforehand where he had decided to go and what he proposed to do when he got there.
‘My holiday?’ he said, when I mentioned it. ‘Oh, I’m going to walk the West Highland Way. You might lend me that rucksack of yours. No point in my buying one, is there?’
So I lent him the rucksack, my ashplant, my electric torch, my whistle and my maps and saw him off at Euston. I would have lent him my anorak and my nailed boots had they fitted him, but he is a big fellow with very wide shoulders and large feet. I was astonished when he told me that he was planning to walk The Way. His taste was for the exotic and he was, so far as he could afford to be, a sybarite, revelling in first-class cabins on cruises, luxury hotels on the French Riviera and beaches in the Bahamas. He lived quietly, almost frugally, all the year and then broke into a cascade of fireworks on holiday.
I suppose I looked as astonished as I felt, for he said defensively that I had made The Way sound very attractive, that he had some extra poundage of which he was determined to rid himself and that a man needed to commune with Nature from time to time if he wanted to retain possession of his immortal soul.
