“Promise.” Going back into the kitchen, he said over his shoulder, “Have you spoken to Joe and Mimi about last weekend?”
“Briefly.”
“And?”
“They both enjoyed themselves.”
“And Tom and Angie?”
Isabel hesitated. She wanted to speak to Jamie about her talk with Tom, but she feared his reaction. He had always lectured her about interfering in others’ affairs, and she had just engaged in a major intervention, having encouraged Tom to get rid of Angie. Of course Tom had asked for that advice—he had effectively insisted that she be involved—but she was not sure whether Jamie would appreciate that.
“Tom came to see me today. Just before you phoned. He wanted to talk.”
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A l e x a n d e r M c C a l l S m i t h Jamie, who had been stirring the pot of pasta, turned away from the cooker and looked at her quizzically. “Talk about what?”
She would not tell him of Tom’s confession of feeling for her, but she decided that she would tell him the rest. “About him and Angie.”
Jamie had put down the spoon and was standing in the kitchen doorway, wiping his hands on a tea towel. “What did he say?”
Isabel lifted her glass and took a sip of wine. “He thinks she isn’t very fond of him. He’s decided to end the engagement.”
Jamie looked down at the floor. “I’m not surprised,” he said.
“You think that they’re unsuited too?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know about that. Maybe. But . . .”
Isabel detected his uncertainty and encouraged him. “Go on. You can tell me.”
He stared at her, embarrassed. “Well, I don’t know. I’m not sure . . .”
“You have to tell me now.”
He joined her at the table and sat down. “When we went into Peebles on Saturday morning, something happened.”
Isabel caught her breath. “What happened?” Her voice was small.
Jamie shifted in his seat. “I don’t really like to talk about this,” he said.
Oh, she had eyes for you, that woman, thought Isabel. And her feelings, now, were ones of anger.
Jamie mumbled, “She made a pass at me. Or I think she did.”
This should be no surprise—Isabel had seen her looking at him—but she had not imagined that it would be translated into action. Where, though, was the doubt? “But you must know.
Either she did or she didn’t. What did she say?”
T H E R I G H T AT T I T U D E T O R A I N
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Jamie’s embarrassment seemed to be mounting. “It was while we were driving back. She put a hand on my knee. Suddenly. Just like that. But quite far up.” He blushed, and Isabel lowered her eyes.
“Was that all?” she asked. It was, she thought, and she felt relieved.
“Maybe she didn’t mean it like that,” said Jamie. “I don’t know.”
“I should think that she meant it exactly like that,” said Isabel. “Come on, Jamie. Women don’t do that sort of thing by mistake.” She mused for a moment. “What did you do?”
Jamie bit his lip. “I told her a lie.”
“Oh? That you were married?”
“That I had a girlfriend.”
Isabel smiled. “And that had the desired effect?”
“She looked at me and she just said, ‘Pity.’ And then she took her hand away.”
They sat in silence for a while. Isabel reflected on what she had heard and thought: It is exactly as I imagined. Angie is not in love with Tom. And since that is true, then my encouraging him to bring it to an end is the right thing to have done.
“I told him to end the engagement,” she said. “I told him that he should talk to her about it. And he’s going to do it.”
Jamie shrugged. “That’s probably for the best,” he said.
He turned to go back into the kitchen. Isabel was relieved that he had not criticised her for interfering, and she started to talk about something else. Jamie, too, seemed pleased to move off the subject of Tom and Angie. He moved the disc back a track and played Isabel something that he wanted her to hear.
Then they sat at the table and began their meal.
He put down his knife and fork, although he had just begun 2 5 0
