Priscilla came up to nun and kissed him lightly on the cheek. “Stick it out a bit longer, Hamish,” she whispered. “It’ll soon be over and then you can go home.” Hamish looked at her with quick gratitude and then found he was beginning to enjoy himself.
“Well, copper,” said a throaty voice, “aren’t you going to thank me?”
He looked down at Maggie Baird. He gave her a puzzled look and then his eyes began to dance with mischief. “Are you then the leader of the Lochdubh Mafia?” he asked. “All thae crimes had poor Sergeant MacGregor not knowing whether he was coming or going.”
Maggie gave a jolly laugh. “Someone had to think of something,” she said. “You were very much missed and now I have met you, I can understand why.”
“You are Mrs. Baird,” said Hamish. “You arrived after I left for Strathbane.”
“Yes.” Maggie became aware that Alison was tugging furtively at her sleeve, obviously hoping for an introduction, and she swung her great bulk a little way around so that Alison was shielded from Hamish. “I don’t know if I’ll stay long,” went on Maggie airily, “but this little place amuses me for the moment.”
“If you like peace and quiet, it’ll grow on you,” said Hamish amiably. “I do not think I haff been introduced to this young lady.” He looked over Maggie’s shoulder at Alison.
“Oh, this is my niece, Alison Kerr. She’s just recovered from cancer which is why she looks a bit ratty.”
Alison winced and Hamish said quickly, “You look chust fine to me, Miss Kerr. You must still be feeling awfy frightened. I mean, you must keep worrying that it might come back.”
“Yes,” said Alison gratefully. “It’s made me an awful coward, the fear, I mean. I’m frightened of my own shadow.”
“Well, I suppose that’s as good an excuse as any,” said Maggie nastily.
“One o’ my cousins had an operation for cancer,” Hamish went on as if Maggie hadn’t spoken. “He’s fine now. The fear goes away after a bit. It’s a bit like getting over the death of someone you loved.”
Maggie gave a musical laugh and her blue eyes looked flirtatiously up into Hamish’s own. “Is this evening going to turn into a therapy session, or are you going to pay some attention to your saviour?”
“Oh, aye,” said Hamish with a grin. “I’m grateful to you, Mrs. Baird.”
Maggie put her hand on his arm. “And how are you going to show that gratitude, Officer?”
He was suddenly aware of her overpowering sexuality, of the expensive French perfume she wore, of being enclosed between walls of suffocating intimacy, and instinctively drew back. He thought, This is what a woman must feel like when a man is undressing her with his eyes.
He hailed the arrival of Mrs. Todd, Maggie’s housekeeper, with relief. “Good evening, Mrs. Todd,” he said. “It’s a while since I’ve seen you.”
Mrs. Todd was a small, sturdy woman dressed, despite the cold evening, in a black silk gown embroidered with jet that looked like an Edwardian relic. She ignored Hamish and Maggie and said to Alison, “Are you all right, Miss Ken? I hope the festivities aren’t too much for you.”
Mrs. Todd’s normally hard features were softened by a maternal smile. “Thank you,” said Alison in a little girl voice. “I’m feeling fine.”
“I’ve just been up to the house and put a hot water bottle in your bed and a thermos of milk on the table,” said Mrs. Todd. “You’re to drink every drop of that milk, mind!”
“Yes, Mrs. Todd,” said Alison meekly. Normally she was grateful for the housekeeper’s maternal warmth but just at that moment, she wished Mrs. Todd would go away, that Maggie would go away, and leave her to talk to this odd policeman who was the first person who had ever guessed how she really felt.
“You wouldn’t think I had good central heating,” said Maggie crossly.
“There’s nothing mair comforting than a nice hot water bottle,” said Mrs. Todd firmly.
Maggie saw Colonel Halburton-Smythe and decided to go flirt with him to liven up the evening and try her hand with the copper later on. Alison watched her go with relief but then found that Mrs. Todd was determined to stay. Hamish talked for a little to both Alison and Mrs. Todd and then was claimed by Priscilla.
“The guests are thinning out,” said Priscilla. “Not long to go, Hamish. How’s Mrs. Todd enjoying her job as housekeeper?”
“She’s fond of that niece, Alison,” said Hamish. “I suppose she enjoys the money. Mrs. Baird is supposed to be rich. Also, it gives Mrs. Todd an interest. She hasn’t done much since her husband died.”
“When was that again?” asked Priscilla.
“Two years? Three? Can’t quite remember myself.”
“And what do you make of Mrs. Baird?”
Hamish frowned. “She makes me uneasy,” he said. “She’s the sort of woman who creates violence. I think she’s a bad woman.”
“Why, Hamish Macbeth! You old–fashioned thing!”
“No, I didnae mean scarlet woman. She’s spiteful to that niece of hers. She likes to be the centre of attention. She likes excitement. She think she likes affairs and yet she’s too fat to have much hope at the moment.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” said Priscilla, watching her father’s flushed and excited face as he spoke to Maggie Baird.
Maggie was enjoying herself. She was aware, out of the comer of her eye, of Mrs. Halburton-Smythe’s disapproval and that gave her a feeling of elation. A jealous woman acted on Maggie’s spirits like a shot of adrenalin. There was a long mirror beside her on the wall. She turned to look at herself.
Robert Burns wrote:
O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us,
To see oursels as others see us,
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
And foolish notion.
But Maggie Baird saw herself for the first and last time in her life as she really was and instead of freeing her from foolish notions, it set in motion a catastrophic chain of events. To see oneself as one really is – if one is ever unlucky enough to have that experience – is quite shattering. The veil of illusions and little vanities is rudely ripped aside. Maggie saw clearly a fat tweedy woman with once beautiful eyes narrowed by fat cheeks. She saw all the pettiness and meanness of soul. She saw the iron grey hair. She looked not only her age but a good bit more. Her hand fluttered up to her cheek in a helpless motion and she turned the colour of mud. She gasped for breath and swayed and the colonel shouted with alarm and rushed to support her.
Dr. Brodie, the village doctor, came bustling up. “Pills,” croaked Maggie. “Handbag.”
The doctor called for a glass of water while he rummaged in Maggie’s handbag, stopping for an instant to look in dazed surprise at a packet of condoms before he found the pills.
Maggie gulped down the pills and slowly her colour began to return. “I’d better phone for the ambulance,” said Dr. Brodie.
“No,” said Maggie weakly. “I had a bit of a shock. I thought I saw someone I knew. I’ll be all right. Hate hospitals. Get me home.”
The competent Mrs. Todd drove Maggie and Alison home. Maggie went straight to bed, but did not go to sleep. She lay awake a long time. She quickly forgot that insight into her soul and remembered only her physical appearance. She who had once been famous for her beauty had degenerated into a fat frump. And all because of one faithless greasy waiter. She must have been mad. She remembered looking across at Priscilla as the doctor had helped her from the room. Priscilla, tall and blond and groomed, seemed to Maggie to be everything that she herself had lost.
She struck the bedclothes with her fat fist. “I’m not finished yet,” she said aloud. “Look at Joan Collins!”
The little spark that the colonel’s kiss had kindled grew into a flame of ambition. She lay awake long into the night, making plans.
Hamish walked slowly along the waterfront with Priscilla in the direction of the police station with Towser plodding along behind. The party was over. He was deeply grateful for his welcome and yet glad he no longer had to endure any of it. He did not like being the focus of attention and shrewdly judged all the celebration of his return would be followed by a backlash, the village wondering why they had gone to such lengths to get diffident and lazy Hamish back again.
He opened the kitchen door to the police station. “You’d better take a look at your living room,” said Priscilla’s
