September

'I've seen to that, sir. It was just about down, with the rain we've been having and the water in spate.'

'Good. We don't want any of the London gentlemen suffering a ducking. How about beaters for tomorrow?'

'I've got sixteen.'

'And flankers? The last time we drove, a lot of the birds slipped away because of poor flanking.'

'Aye, they were a useless pair of buggers. But tomorrow I've got the schoolmaster's son and Willy Snoddy.' The keeper caught Archie's eye and the two of them grinned. 'He's an unreliable old villain but a rare flanker.' Gordon shifted his weight, took off his hat, scratched the back of his neck, and then put his hat on again. 'I was up at the loch early yesterday morning. Caught him there with that old lurcher of his, lifting your trout out of the water. He's there evenings forbye, making full use of the late rise.'

'Do you see him?'

'He sneaks up the back lane from the village, but, aye, I've spied him more than once.'

'I know he poaches, Gordon, and so does the local bobby. But he's done it all his life, and he's not going to stop now. I don't say anything. Besides'-Archie smiled-'if he's flung into jail, we're short of a flanker.'

'True enough, sir.'

'What about the beaters' money?'

'Went to the bank this morning, sir, collected it then.'

'You seem to have got it all well organized, Gordon. Thank you very much for dropping. And I'll see you tomorrow…'

Gordon and his dogs departed, and Archie continued with his leaf-sweeping. He had just about completed the task when he heard a second car coming up the back drive from the village, and decided that this time, in all likelihood, it would be the Sad American in his hired car. He wished to hell he knew what the bloody man was called. In preparation, he once more stopped the tractor and switched off the engine, and as he eased himself cautiously onto his two feet, the car came down the avenue towards him and he realized that it was Edmund's Subaru, and so not the Sad American after all. Virginia was at the wheel, but a man sat beside her. The Subaru drew to a halt, and as Archie, awkwardly stiff, limped forward, they got out of the car and came to meet him.

'Virginia.'

'Hello, Archie. I've brought your guest to stay with you.' Archie, at a loss, turned to the stranger. Tall, well built, quite handsome in a weathered sort of way. Not young, and wearing heavy horn-rimmed spectacles. 'Conrad Tucker; Archie Balmerino.'

The two men shook hands. Archie said, 'I'm sorry… I thought you were coming under your own steam, in a hired car…'

'I intended doing that, but…'

Virginia interrupted. 'I'll explain. It's the most extraordinary coincidence, Archie. I met Conrad yesterday evening in the King's Hotel, in Relkirk. Out of the blue. And of course we're very old friends. We knew each other in Long Island when we were young. So instead of spending the night at the hotel as he'd planned, he came back to Balnaid with me and stayed there.'

So all was clear. 'But what a fortuitous meeting, and what a good idea.' And then added, for Conrad's benefit, 'The ridiculous thing is that my wife was either never told, or forgot, your name, and so Virginia would never have known that our house guest was yourself. I'm afraid sometimes we're dreadfully vague.'

'It's very good of you to have me.'

'Anyway…' Archie hesitated, wishing that Isobel were here. '… this is all splendid. Come along. Let's go indoors. There's nobody here but me because the others have all gone shopping. Have you got a bag, Conrad? What's the time? A quarter to twelve. The sun's not over the yardarm yet, but I think we could have a gin and tonic…'

Virginia said, 'No, Archie,' and she sounded jumpy and unlike herself. Archie looked at her with closer attention and saw the pallor beneath her tan and the dark rings under her eyes. She seemed upset and he was concerned for her, and then remembered that only yesterday she had had to take Henry to Templehall and leave him there. Which explained everything.

He felt very sympathetic and said kindly, 'Why not? It'll do you good.'

'It's not that I don't want to stay, but I have to take some stuff up to Corriehill for Verena. Flower vases. Things like that. If you don't mind, I think I'd better get home.'

'Whatever you want.'

'We'll all see each other tomorrow at Vi's picnic.'

'Not me. I'm shooting. But Lucilla and Jeff and Pandora will take Conrad along with them.'

Conrad had retrieved his bag from Virginia's car and was standing waiting for what was going to happen next. Virginia went to him and gave him a kiss. 'See you tomorrow, Conrad.'

'Thanks for everything.'

'It's been great.'

She got back into the Subaru and drove away, back under the trees and down the hill. When she had gone, Archie turned to his guest. 'How very nice that you already know Virginia. Now, come along and I'll show you where you're sleeping…'

He led the way up to the door and into the house, and Conrad, slowing his pace down to his host's halting step, followed him.

Back at Balnaid, in her flower pantry, searching for jugs, urns, bowls, old soup tureens, Virginia was grateful for domestic occupation. At the moment she needed neither idle hands nor an empty mind. Especially an empty mind. She assembled her loot and then collected pin-holders and screwed-up pieces of chicken wire, essential for keeping top-heavy flower arrangements in place. Making two or three trips, she carried everything out to the Subaru and stowed it all neatly into the back of the car.

Meanwhile, she made plans. Tomorrow morning early, Alexa and Noel and Alexa's dog would be arriving, having driven up from London overnight. They would be at Balnaid for breakfast. When I come back from Corriehill, she told herself, I shall get the bedrooms ready for Alexa and Noel. Bedrooms. Not a bedroom. In London they slept together, in a double bed, but Virginia knew that if she were to put them in a double bed at Balnaid, Alexa would be embarrassed, and even more put out than her father.

Tomorrow. She would think about tomorrow. She would not think about yesterday, nor the day before. Nor last night. They were over. Finished with. Done. Nothing could be changed and nothing could be altered.

When the bedrooms were finished, she would emulate Isobel and make lists, visit Mrs. Ishak and do an enormous shop. The dogs would have to be walked. After that she might do some cooking, make a cake or a pot of soup. Or brownies for tomorrow's picnic. By then it would be evening, and then night, and the long lonely, soul- searching day would be over. She would sleep in her empty bed, in her empty house. Without Edmund, without Henry. But the morning would bring Alexa and Noel, and with them for company surely things must get better; life would seem less impossible and easier to bear.

She drove to Corriehill and found the place in a turmoil. Alien vans and lorries were parked on the gravel outside, and inside, the house appeared to have been taken over by armies of workmen, as though the family were on the point of moving out, or moving in. In the hall, most of the furniture and the rugs had already been shunted aside, electric cables snaked in all directions, and the open doors of the dining-room revealed that this, by means of festoons of darkly striped material, had been transformed into a lightless cave. The night-club. She paused to admire but was almost instantly asked to move aside by a young man with long hair who staggered, with bent knees, beneath the weight of some piece of audio equipment.

'Do you know where I can find Mrs. Steynton?'

'Try the marquee.'

Picking her way through the confusion, Virginia made for the library and saw, for the first time, the gargantuan tent that had been erected on the lawn the day before. It was very tall and very wide, and took most of the daylight from the rooms inside. The French doors of the library had been removed, and house and marquee were joined by the umbilical cord of a wide, tented passageway. She went down this and stepped into the aqueous, filtered gloom that was the interior of the marquee, saw the soaring tent-poles, tall as masts, the yellow-and-white-striped lining. On the top of tall ladders, more electricians were perched fixing the overhead lights, and at the far end a couple of burly men were constructing, with trestles and planks, a platform for the band. There was the smell of trodden grass and canvas, rather like an agricultural show, and in the middle of it all she found Verena with Mr. Abberley, who was in charge of the entire operation, and apparently being given a piece of Verena's mind.