Sunday the Eleventh
Sunday morning. Overcast, very still, very quiet, hushed with the weekly inertia of a Scottish Sabbath. It had rained during the night, leaving puddles by the roadside and gardens dripping with moisture. In Strathcroy, cottages slumbered, curtains stayed drawn. Slowly the occupants stirred, rose, opened doors, lit fires, made cups of tea. Plumes of peat-smoke rose, straight, from chimney-pots. Dogs were walked, hedges clipped, cars washed. Mr. Ishak opened up his shop for the sale of morning rolls, milk, cigarettes, Sunday newspapers, and any other commodity that a family might need to get through the empty day. From the tower of the Presbyterian church, the bell tolled.
At Croy, Hamish and Jeff were downstairs before anyone else and, between them, cooked their own breakfast. Bacon and eggs, sausages and tomatoes, racks of fresh toast, marmalade and honey, all washed down with large cups of very strong tea. Isobel, descending later, found their dirty breakfast dishes stacked by the sink, and a note from Hamish.
Dear Mum. Jeff and me have taken the dogs up to the loch.
He wants to see it. Back about twelve-thirty. In time for beef.
Isobel made coffee, sat and drank it, thought about peeling potatoes, making a pudding. She wondered if there was enough cream for a fool. Lucilla appeared, and finally Archie, wearing his good tweed suit because it was his day to read the lesson in church. Neither his wife nor his daughter offered to accompany him. With ten people for lunch, they had more than enough to do.
Pandora slept the morning through and did not put in an appearance until a quarter past twelve, by which time all the hard work in the kitchen had been accomplished. It was instantly clear, however, that she had not been idle, but busy titivating: painting her nails, washing her hair, doing her face, splashing herself in Poison. She wore a jersey dress patterned in diamonds of brilliant colour; it was so fine and supple and elegant that it had to be Italian. Discovering Lucilla in the library, she swore that she had slept the night through, but seemed perfectly happy to sink into the depths of an armchair and gratefully accept the offer of a glass of sherry.
At Pennyburn, Vi sat up in her bed, drank her early morning tea, and planned her day. She should perhaps go to church. There was plenty to pray for. She thought about this and then decided against it. Instead, self-indulgence. She would stay where she was, conserving her energy. She'd finish her current book and then, after a late breakfast, sit at her desk to deal with overdue bills, pension funds, and that incomprehensible demand from the Inland Revenue. For lunch, she had been invited to Croy. Edmund, with Virginia and Henry, would pick her up and drive her on up the hill.
She thought about this with more disquiet than delight and gazed from the window and assessed the mood of the weather: rain all night but now damp and still and muggy. Perhaps later it would cheer up. It was the sort of day, in more ways than one, that needed to be cheered up. For comfort, she decided, she would wear her grey wool. For courage, the new Hermes scarf.
At Balnaid, Virginia went in search of Henry. 'Henry, come and change.'
He was on the floor of his playroom, constructing Space Lego, and resented the interruption. 'Why do I have to change?'
'Because we're going out for lunch and you can't go looking like that.'
'Why can't I?'
'Because your jeans are dirty, and your T-shirt's dirty, and your shoes are dirty, and you are dirty.'
'Do I have to
'No, but you have to put on a clean T-shirt and a clean pair of jeans and a clean pair of sneakers.'
'What about socks?'
'Clean socks.'
He sighed, hard done by. 'Do I have to put my Space Lego away?'
'No, of course you don't have to. Leave it where it is. Just come, or Daddy'll start getting impatient.'
She led him, lagging, to his bedroom, then sat on his bed and stripped off his T-shirt.
'Will there be any other children there?'
'Hamish.'
'He won't want to play with me.'
'Henry, you're such a ninny about Hamish. If you don't behave like a ninny, he'll like playing with you. Take off your jeans and your trainers.'
'Who's going to be there?'
'Us. And Vi. And the Balmerinos. And Lucilla because she's come home from France. And her friend. He's called Jeff. And Pandora.'
'Who's Pandora?'
'Archie's sister.'
'Do I know her?'
'No.'
''Do you know her?'
'No.'
'Does Daddy know her?'
'Yes. He knew her when she was a little girl. Vi knows her too.'
'Why don't you know her?'
'Because she's been living abroad for a long, long time. She lived in America. This is the first time she's come back to Croy.'
'Does Alexa know her?'
'No. Alexa was only a tiny baby when she went to America.'
'Does Pandora know your gramps and grandma at Leesport?'
'No. They live in Long Island, and Pandora lived in California. That's right over the other side of the United States.'
'Does Edie know her?'
'Yes. Edie knew her when she was a little girl as well.'
'What does she look like?'
'Heavens above, Henry, I've never met her, so I can't tell you. But you know that picture in the dining-room at Croy? Of the pretty girl? Well, that's Pandora when she was young.'
'I hope she's still pretty.'
'You like pretty ladies.'
'Well, I certainly don't like ugly ones.' He screwed up his face, making a monster grimace. 'Like that Lottie Carstairs.'
Despite herself, Virginia had to laugh. 'You know something, Henry Aird, you'll be the death of me. Now, hand me your hairbrush, and then go and wash your hands.'
From the foot of the stairs, Edmund called, 'Virginia.'
'We're on our way!'
He waited for them, dressed for the occasion in grey flannels, a country shirt, a club tie, a blue cashmere pullover, his chestnut-polished Gucci loafers.
'We should go.'
Reaching his side, Virginia kissed him. 'You're looking handsome, Mr. Aird. Did you know that?'
'You're not looking so gruesome yourself. Come along, Henry.'
They got into the BMW and drove. They stopped for a moment in the village, where Edmund went into Mr. Ishak's and emerged with the bulky wodge of the Sunday newspapers. Then on to Penny-burn.
Vi heard them coming and was ready for them, on the point of locking her front door. Edmund leaned over to open the door for her and she got in beside him. Henry thought she was looking very smart and told her so.
'Thank you, Henry. This is the pretty scarf your mother brought me from London.'
'I know. She brought me a cricket bat and a ball.'
'You showed me.'
'And she brought Edie a cardigan. Edie loves it. She says she's keeping it for best. It's sort of pinky blue.'
'Lilac,' Virginia told him.
'Lilac.' He said the word over to himself because it had a pleasant sound. Lilac.
