“Followers of the Stuart kings,” said Isabel. “Jacobus is James in Latin, and a lot of the Stuart kings were called James.
Bonnie Prince Charlie was a Stuart.”
Tom tapped Angie on the shoulder. “The house we’re staying in, my dear. Remember, I told you that it was associated with the Jacobite cause. And there’s that bedroom . . .”
Angie brightened. “Oh yes! The Prince’s bedroom.”
Tom took the explanation further. “Legend has it that Prince Charlie stayed in it at some point. Just one night, apparently, and then he had to move on.” He looked at Joe. “We thought that we might put you and Mimi in it when you come out there.”
“As long as you don’t mind a ghost,” said Angie, giggling.
“I thought I saw him the other day. He was sort of white—
insubstantial . . .” She trailed off, and then suddenly turned to Jamie. “Do you believe in ghosts, Jamie?”
Jamie laughed nervously. “I haven’t thought about it very 1 1 6
A l e x a n d e r M c C a l l S m i t h much . . . But, no, probably not. I haven’t seen any evidence. Or any ghosts, for that matter.”
“Grace is the person,” said Isabel, glancing at Jamie. “My housekeeper. She doesn’t call them ghosts, of course. She’s a spiritualist. She talks about ‘the other side.’ ” She felt vaguely disloyal, talking about Grace in this way, and her voice dropped at the end. It was true, though, Grace did go to seances, which had always struck her as being so out of character, given Grace’s good sense in everything else. We all have our weak points, she thought. Mine . . . This was no time for self-evaluation, though; she would change the subject of the conversation, she decided.
But then she remembered Mobile, which was said to be the city of ghosts. That had always amused her. “Mobile is the place for ghosts, isn’t it?” she volunteered.
Mimi looked up. “So we’re told,” she said. “Though why there should be more ghosts there than anywhere else, I don’t know.”
“Perhaps they move down from the North,” Joe observed drily. “People move to Florida in their retirement. Ghosts move to Mobile.”
It was typical of Joe’s dry humour, and Isabel looked at him in appreciation. Angie, however, seemed puzzled. “Do ghosts move?” she asked.
“That’s something we can’t tell,” answered Isabel. She turned to Tom. It was kind of him and Angie to issue the invitation for the house party, and she thanked him. On the contrary, he said: it was good of Isabel and her friends to fill the house for them.
They were spending almost three months in Scotland and knew very few people. It would be pleasant to have some company.
You have each other, thought Isabel. But was that enough?
T H E R I G H T AT T I T U D E T O R A I N
1 1 7
Even when one was in love, it was not really enough just to have the other person—not if one needed stimulation. The company of just one person could be reassuring, could stave off loneli-ness, but would it be enough for three months?
Angie had been talking to Joe and Jamie, and so she said to Tom, “We need to see people, don’t we? I sometimes have to get out of the house just to do so—not necessarily to talk to anyone, just to see them. We have some shops nearby. I drive round there and have a coffee. See people.”
“Yes,” he said. “I guess that’s why we come into Edinburgh a lot. I thought that we might just stay out in that house, buried in the country, but we need to get in.”
Isabel nodded. She could imagine what it would be like to be stuck in the country with Angie. But then she had no interest in Angie, and he did. He must find her exciting. Sexually?
Strange.
She stole a glance at Tom. What would his face have looked like before the Bell’s palsy? He must have been good-looking, with those strong features, the regular nose, the fine eyes; only the mouth was wrong, twisted into its grimace by the condition.
And his physique was impressive too. He must be in his fifties, but there was no spare flesh and he was well put together. If one looked beyond the grimace, one saw a fine man; as Angie must have done, unless she was looking at something else: at the house in Preston Hollow, at the staff who presumably looked after him—the Mexican maid, the groundsman, the driver.
Her thoughts were interrupted by Tom asking her what she did. Isabel explained about the
A l e x a n d e r M c C a l l S m i t h Isabel’s eye and pointed in the direction of the kitchen. It was time for dinner.
Isabel had left the seating plan to Mimi, and she found herself next to Tom; Jamie, across the table, was on Angie’s right.
Isabel watched as the evening wore on. Each time she looked across, she noticed that Angie was deep in conversation with Jamie and she heard odd snatches of what she said.
