through Strathcroy from end to end.
The little Episcopal church squatted humbly. Mr. Gloxby was out in front of it, cutting the grass.
'He works so hard,' Archie observed. 'I do hope we can raise a decent bit of cash with a church sale. It was good of you to come today, Vi. I'm sure you'd much rather have been gardening.'
'It was such disheartening weather, I had no desire to get at my weeds,' Vi said. 'So one might as well spend the day doing something worthy.' She thought about this. 'Rather like when one is worried sick about a child or a grandchild, but you can't do anything, so you go and scrub the scullery floor. At the end of the day you're still worried sick, but at least you've got a clean scullery.'
'You're not worried about your family, are you, Vi? What could you possibly have to worry about?'
'All women worry about their families,' Violet told him flatly.
The Land Rover trundled down the road, past the petrol station, which had once been the blacksmith's forge, and the Ishaks' supermarket. Beyond this stood the open gates that led to the back drive of Croy. Archie changed down and drove through these, and at once they were climbing steeply. Once, and not so long ago, the surrounding lands had all been park, smooth green pastures grazed by pedigree cattle, but now these had been ploughed for crops, barley, and turnips. Only a few broad-leaved trees still stood, witness to the splendour of former years.
'Why do you worry?'
Violet hesitated. She knew that she could talk to Archie. She had known him all his life, watched him grow up. Indeed, she was as close to him as if he had been her own son, for although he was five years younger than Edmund, the two boys had been brought up together, spent all their time together, and become the closest of friends.
If Edmund was not at Croy, then Archie was at Balnaid; and if they were at neither house, then they were walking the hills with guns and dogs, potting at hares and rabbits, helping Gordon Gillock burn the heather and repair the butts. Or else they were out in the boat on the loch, or casting for trout in the brown pools of the Croy, or playing tennis, or skating on frozen flood-water. Inseparable, everybody had said. Like brothers.
But they were not brothers, and they had parted. Edmund was bright. 'Twice as bright as either of his not unintelligent parents. Archie, on the other hand, was totally unacademic.
Edmund, sailing through University, emerged from Cambridge with an Honours Degree in Economics, and was instantly employed by a prestigious merchant bank in the City.
Archie, unable to think of any other career that he might successfully follow, decided to have a try for the Army. He duly appeared before a Regular Commission Board and somehow managed to bluff his way through the interview, for the four senior officers apparently decided that a modest scholastic record was outweighed by Archie's outgoing and friendly personality and his enormous enthusiasm for life.
He went through Sandhurst, joined the Regiment, and was posted to Germany. Edmund stayed in London. He became, to no person's surprise, enormously successful, and within five years had been head-hunted by Sanford Cubben. In the fullness of time he married, but even this romantic event added glitter to his image. Violet recalled pacing up the long aisle of St. Margaret's, Westminster, arm in arm with Sir Rodney Cheriton, and finding time to hope in her heart that Edmund was marrying Caroline because he truly loved her, and not because he had been seduced by the aura of riches that surrounded her.
And now the wheel had gone full circle, and both men were back in Strathcroy. Archie at Croy, and Edmund at Balnaid. Grown men in their middle years, still friends, but no longer intimate. Too much had happened to both of them, and not all of it good. Too many years had slipped by, like water under a bridge. They were different people: one a very wealthy man of business, the other strapped for cash and perpetually struggling to make ends meet. But it was not because of this that a certain formality, a politeness lay between them.
They were no longer close as brothers.
She sighed gustily. Archie smiled. 'Oh, come on, Vi, it can't be as bad as that.'
'Of course not.' He had troubles enough of his own. She would make light of hers. 'But I do worry about Alexa, because she seems so alone. I know she's doing a job she enjoys, and that 'she has that charming little house in which to live, and Lady Cheriton left her enough to give her security for the rest of her life. But I am afraid that her social life is a disaster. I think she truly believes that she's plain and dull and unattractive to men. She has no confidence in herself. When she went to London, I so hoped that she would make a life for herself, make friends of her own age. But she just stayed at Ovington Street with her grandmother, like a sort of companion. If only she could meet some dear kind man who would marry her. She should have a husband to take care of, and children. Alexa was born to have children.'
Archie listened sympathetically to all this. He was as fond of Alexa as any of them. He said, 'Losing her mother when she was so little… perhaps that was a more traumatic experience than any of us realized. Perhaps it made her feel different from other girls. Incomplete in some way.'
Violet thought about this. 'Yes. Perhaps. Except that Caroline was never a very demonstrative nor loving mother. She never spent much time with Alexa. It was Edie who provided all Alexa's security and affection. And Edie was always there.'
'But you liked Caroline.'
'Oh yes, I liked her. There was nothing to dislike. We had a good relationship, and I think she was a good wife to Edmund. But she was a strangely reserved girl. Sometimes I went south, to stay for a few days with them all in London. Caroline would invite me, very charmingly, knowing that I would enjoy being with Alexa and Edie. And of course I did, but I never felt totally at home. I hate cities, anyway. Streets and houses and traffic make me feel beleaguered. Claustrophobic. But, quite apart from that, Caroline was never a relaxed hostess. I always felt a bit in the way, and she was an impossible girl to chat with. Left alone with her I had to struggle, sometimes, to make conversation, and you know perfectly well that, if pressed, I can talk the hind legs off a donkey. But pauses would fall, and they were silences that were not companionable. And I would try to fill those silences in, stitching furiously at my tapestry.' She looked across at Archie. 'Does that sound ridiculous, or do you understand what I'm trying to say?'
'Yes, I do understand. I hardly knew Caroline, but the few times I met her I always felt my hands and my feet were too big.'
But even this mild attempt at levity did not raise a smile with
Violet, preoccupied as she was with Alexa's problems. She fell silent, brooding about her granddaughter.
By now they had climbed half-way up the hill that led to Croy and were approaching the turning for Pennyburn. There were no gates, simply an opening that broke the fence to the left of the road. The Land Rover turned into this, and Archie drove the hundred yards or so along a neatly Tarmacked lane bordered on either side by mown grass verges and a trimly clipped beech hedge. At the end of this the lane opened up into a sizable yard, with the small white house on one side and a double garage on the other. The doors of this were open, revealing Violet's car, and, as well, her wheelbarrow and lawn-mower and a plethora of garden tools. Between the garage and the beech hedge was her drying-green. She had done a wash this morning, and a line of laundry stirred in the rising breeze. Wooden tubs, planted with hydrangeas the colour of pink blotting paper, flanked the entrance to the house, and a hedge of lavender grew close to its walls.
Archie drew up and switched off the engine, but Violet made no move to alight. Having started this discussion, she had no wish to end it before it was finished.
'So I don't really believe that losing her mother in that tragic way is the root cause of Alexa's lack of confidence. Nor the fact that Edmund married again and presented her with a stepmother. Nobody could have been sweeter or more understanding than Virginia, and the arrival of Henry brought nothing but joy. Not a hint of sibling rivalry.' The mention of Henry's name reminded Violet of yet another tiresome worry. 'And now I'm fretting about Henry. Because I'm afraid that Edmund is going to insist on sending him to Temple-hall as a boarder. And 1 think he's not ready for that yet. And if he does go, I'm anxious for Virginia, because her life
'But when Virginia married Edmund, she knew how it would be. Don't get too worked up about it, Vi. Templehall's a good school, and Colin Henderson's a sympathetic headmaster. I've got great faith in the place. Hamish has loved it there, enjoyed every moment.'
'Yes, but your Hamish is very different from Henry. At eight years old, Hamish was quite capable of taking care of himself.'
