with strangers. In years gone by, he had devised a rating for weekends, awarding stars for comfort and pleasure.
But that was when he had been much younger and poorer, and in no position to turn down any invitation. Now, older and more prosperous, with friends and acquaintances to match, he could afford to be more selective, and was seldom disappointed.
But the game, if it was to be properly played, had its own appointed rituals. And so, in his suitcase stowed in the boot were not only his dinner jacket and a selection of suitably countrified clothes, but a bottle of The Famous Grouse for his host, and a generously large box of Bendick's handmade chocolates for his hostess. As well, this weekend involved birthday presents. For Alexa's grandmother, celebrating her seventy-eighth year this very day, there were shiny boxes of soap and bath-oil from Floris-Noel's standard offering to elderly ladies, both known and unknown; and for Katy Steynton, whom he had never met, a framed sporting print depicting a sad-eyed spaniel with a dead pheasant in its mouth.
Thus, bearing gifts, he abided by the rules.
The unexpected territory was a physical thing, the astonishingly beautiful county of Relkirkshire. He had never imagined such rich and prosperous estates, such verdant farmlands, immaculately fenced and grazed by herds of handsome cattle. He had not expected avenues of beech, roadside gardens filled with flowers in such profusion and such colour. Driving overnight, he had watched the light creep into an overcast and misty dawn, but now the sun had done its work, and the greyness was dissolved into a morning of brilliant clarity. With Relkirk behind them, the road was clear, fields gold with stubble, rivers sparkling, bracken turning to saffron-yellow, the skies enormous, the air crystal-clear, unpolluted by smoke or smog or any horror that the hand of man could produce. It was like going back in time to a world that one had thought gone for ever. Had he ever known such a world? Or had he known it once and simply forgotten that it had existed?
Caple Bridge. They crossed a river, deep in a ravine far below them, and then took the turning signposted 'Strathcroy.' The hills, still bloomy with heather, folded away on either side of the narrow winding road. He saw scattered farmsteads, a man driving a flock of sheep up through green pasture fields to the rough grazing beyond. Alexa, with Larry on her knee, sat beside him. Larry slept, but Alexa was palpably tense with the scarcely suppressed excitement of coming home, in truth, she had been in a state of happy anticipation for weeks, counting the days off on her calendar, searching the shops for a new dress, getting her hair cut, buying presents. For the last two days, she had been spinning like a top with last-minute arrangements; packing for the pair of them, ironing all Noel's shirts, emptying the refrigerator, and leaving with a neighbour the spare keys of her house in case it should be invaded by vandalizing bandits. All this was accomplished with the transparent enthusiasm and energy of a child, and Noel had witnessed her furious activity with fond tolerance, while refusing to pretend that he felt the same way.
Now, however, with the long journey behind him, with the sunlight streaming down from that vast and pristine sky, the clean air blowing through the opened window, the fresh prospects revealed at each bend of the road, her excitement suddenly became contagious, and he was filled with ridiculous elation-not happiness, exactly, but a surge of physical well-being that was perhaps the next-best thing. Impulsively, he took his hand off the wheel and laid it on Alexa's knee, and at once she covered it with her own.
She said, 'I'm not saying 'Isn't it beautiful' all the time, because if I do, it'll just sound too banal for words.'
'I know.'
'And coming back is always special, but it's more special this time because you're with me. That's what I've been thinking.' Her fingers twined with his. 'It's never been quite like this before.'
He smiled. 'I'll be on my best behaviour and try to keep it that way.'
Alexa leaned over and kissed his cheek. She said, 'I love you.'
Five minutes later, they had arrived. Reaching the little village, they crossed another bridge, through open gates and up a drive. He saw the lawns, the banks of rhododendrons and azaleas, glimpsed the open view through to the hills that lay to the south. He drew up in front of the house, the house familiar from Alexa's photograph, but now reality, standing before him, solid and substantial, with the towering conservatory jutting out at one side. Virginia creeper, now turning crimson, framed the open front door, and before Noel had even switched off the ignition the two spaniels were there, not posed obediently at the top of the steps, but racing down them, in full cry and with ears flying, come to investigate the new arrivals. Larry, rudely awoken, gave as good as he got, yapping from Alexa's arms as she got out of the car.
Almost at once, right behind the dogs, Virginia appeared, wearing jeans and an open-necked white shirt and looking just as toothsome as she had in her sophisticated London clothes, that first and only time that Noel had met her.
'Alexa. Darling. I thought you were never coming.' Hugs and kisses. Stretching the aches out of his arms and legs, Noel watched the loving reunion. 'And Noel'-Virginia turned to him-'how lovely to see you.' He was kissed as well, which was pleasurable. 'Did you have a frightful drive? Alexa, I can't stand the din. Put Larry down and let them make friends right here in the garden, otherwise he'll pee all over my carpets. Why are you so late? I've been expecting you for hours.'
Alexa explained. 'We stopped in Edinburgh for breakfast. Noel's got some friends there called Delia and Calum Robertson. They live in the dearest little mews house just at the back of Moray Place. We woke them up by throwing stones at their window and they came down, let us in and cooked us bacon and eggs and weren't a bit cross at being woken up. I should have phoned you, but I never thought. I am sorry.'
'It doesn't matter. All that does is that you're here. But there's not a moment to spare because you've got to be with Vi at eleven, and have coffee with her before we all head up the hill for the picnic.' She looked at Noel with some sympathy. 'Poor man, you're really being thrown in at the deep end, but Vi's longing to see you both. Can you bear it? You're not too exhausted after the long drive?'
'Not a bit,' he assured her. 'We shared the driving and the one who wasn't at the wheel was able to have a kip…'He opened the boot of his car, and Virginia raised her eyebrows.
'Heavens, what a lot of luggage. Come on, let's hump it all in…'
He was in his bedroom, left with his bags to settle himself in. The door stood open, and from down the passage, he could hear the voices of Alexa and Virginia, still with plenty to talk about. From time to time there was a burst of laughter. He went to close the door, finding himself in need of a moment of privacy before the next lot of demands were made upon him. He was to drive the Subaru, he had been told. There was some complication about table-cloths, but he and Alexa would have coffee with her grandmother, and later Virginia and Edie would join them, whereupon the entire party would drive up the hill for the celebratory picnic.
He was not dismayed by the prospect; on the contrary, he found himself quite looking forward to anything that the day might bring. He opened his suitcase and began in a desultory fashion to unpack. He hung up his dinner jacket in the towering Victorian wardrobe, dug around for Vi's birthday present, his hairbrushes, his wash-bag. He put the brushes on the dressing-table and went to inspect the bathroom. There he was confronted by a seven-foot bath with gargantuan brass taps, a marbled floor, tall mirrors, fluffy white bath-sheets neatly folded over a heated rail. He felt worn and grubby after his overnight drive, and, on an impulse, turned on the taps, tore off his clothes, and took the quickest, hottest bath of his life. Much refreshed, he dressed again, and, buttoning his clean shirt, walked to the window to observe the pleasing view beyond the boundary of the garden. Fields, sheep, hills. Out of the quiet came the liquid call of a curlew. It rose and died away, and he tried to remember when he had last heard that haunting, evocative sound, but could not.
Virginia Aird was half-American; young, vital, and chic. Once, on a business trip to the United States, Noel had stayed in the home of a colleague who lived in New York State. The house was ranch-type, set in lawns that ran into the lawns of the next-door property, and had been designed with convenience and ease of maintenance as first priorities. Centrally heated, marvellously thought out, and equipped with every sort of modern appliance, it should have been the most comfortable place in the world in which to spend a winter weekend. But somehow, none of it added up, because his hostess, although delightful, hadn't the first idea about having guests to stay. Despite the fact that she was possessed of an all-singing, all-dancing kitchen, she never cooked a single meal. Each evening, they dressed up and went out to the local country club for dinner, and the only food that emerged from that kitchen was fried eggs or micro-waved beefburgers. But that was not all. In the living room was an open fireplace, but the grate was filled with pot plants, and instead of a comfortingly blazing log fire, the sinfully comfortable couches and armchairs were arranged around the focal point of the television, and Sunday afternoon was spent gazing at a
