she bent down beside him and took the cut finger and pressed it against her blouse. It was his blood; his blood. Their faces were close together, and she kissed him. He kissed her back, and placed a hand on her shoulder, steadying himself.
“How clumsy of me,” he said. “I’m sorry.”
“You couldn’t be clumsy if you tried,” she said.
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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He looked at her in amusement, and then laughed. They stood up. He held her hand in his. There was a small patch of blood on her palm now; his blood. He squeezed her hand.
“What are we going to call him?” he asked.
T H E Y AT E TO G E T H E R in the garden room at the back of the house, because it was so warm. The French doors were left open, and there was the scent of lavender on the air; there was only one topic of conversation, of course. She allowed herself a half-glass of wine, and they raised their glasses to each other.
She had been uncertain as to how he might react, but she had not expected this enthusiasm. “I’m glad for you, and for me,” he said. “I love children. I love them. I really do. And you’ll let me help, won’t you?”
“Of course,” she said. “After all, you will be the father.”
He repeated the word, and dwelt on it. “All of a sudden I feel very responsible,” he said.
She said nothing. He might not feel this way later on, she thought; she would have to see. But for the moment, her happiness was profound, and that was sufficient.
They sat together. Later, without ringing the bell and announcing her presence, Cat left a peace offering for Isabel at the front door: a package of French cheeses and a spiced Italian sausage from the delicatessen. She had taped a note onto the package which simply said,
Shortly after Cat had left this present outside the door, Brother Fox, skulking through the front garden, hungrily sniff-2 7 6
A l e x a n d e r M c C a l l S m i t h ing at the evening air, detected its presence and padded cautiously up to the small package. He made short work of the wrapping paper—no challenge for a fox—and ate the sausage within a few minutes, spitting out the open elastic stocking in which it had been encased. After that he moved on to the cheeses, which he also ate, although not in their entirety, leaving small bits of rind littered about the path, evidence of the gift that he had so fortuitously intercepted. Then, replete and content, he moved away, back into the welcoming shadows, the undergrowth.
A B O U T T H E A U T H O R
Alexander McCall Smith is the author of the international phenomenon The No. 1 Ladies’ Detective Agency series. He is professor emeritus of medical law at the University of Edinburgh in Scotland and has served on many national and international bodies concerned with bioethics.
Document Outline
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-one
Chapter Twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-three
