‘Listen to what?’
‘I know…well, maybe I know that we ought to burn these without reading them,’ she whispered. ‘But Angus knew he was dying, and he left them. So maybe…maybe…’
‘What?’
‘Maybe he didn’t mind us reading them. Maybe he was even proud of them. This is from Deirdre. Way back when she was shopping for the contents of this castle. We’re talking forty years back.’
‘It’s not too personal?’
‘You need to know a bit of back-story,’ she told him, ignoring his query. ‘Angus put a huge amount into this castle, because building it provided an industry for the men of the town in a time of recession. But the locals say he scared himself with how much it cost, and when it came to furnishings he turned into a real scrooge.’
‘I can’t imagine the Angus I’ve heard about being tight with his money,’ he said, and Susie’s face softened in agreement.
‘Neither can I. But listen to this. Deirdre’s obviously in the city on a buying spree, writing to Angus back home.’
My love, we have children!
Angus, darling, it’s one of the great sadnesses of our marriage that we haven’t been blessed with babies and we can’t adopt. Well, I’ve found a replacement. No, sweetheart, I haven’t picked up a couple of strays, much as I’m always hopeful a couple will come our way. But today I’ve found Eric and Ernst.
Who are Eric and Ernst? I can hear you say it in increasing trepidation. Irish wolfhounds, maybe? Diggers up of vegetable gardens?
No.
They’re warriors. They stand eight feet tall in their gauntleted-is that what you call it?-feet. They’re a sort of made-in-Japan imitation suit of armour, real and ready to fight, lifelike right up to the eyes in their visors-white glass eyes with a little black pupil that bobs up and down when you lift the visor up and peer in. I found them in the back of a theatre-prop-cum-junk-shop and they’re so neglected. Angus, Ernst is missing a leg! Can you believe that? We’ll need to build him a new one. Do you know a leg builder? They’re shop soiled and tattered and unloved, and I just looked at them and knew they were destined to stay with us for as long as we live.
Anyway, dearest, kindest Angus, this is to say that we’re coming home on Friday and if you were planning on meeting the train in your car can you think again? I talked to the nice man at the railways today and he says he can’t guarantee they’ll be safe in the goods car so I’ve bought two extra tickets. Ernst and Eric can sit in the carriage with me. Isn’t that the best thing? Can you imagine it? Oh, my dear, I’m so excited. I so want you to meet them. You and me and Eric and Ernst, ready to live happily ever after from this moment forth.
There was a long silence.
It was a ridiculous letter.
Hamish thought of Marcia writing such a letter, and couldn’t.
He tried to imagine Susie writing such a letter-and could, very, very easily.
Susie and Deirdre. Twin souls?
There were too many twins. His head was spinning.
‘Why couldn’t she have children?’ he asked at last, trying to sound neutral. ‘Surely forty years ago adoption was an option?’ He was changing the subject here, and he wasn’t quite sure what he was changing it from, but he was starting to feel desperate.
‘Deirdre was profoundly deaf,’ Susie said softly, rereading the letter with a smile. ‘I imagine adoption agencies wouldn’t see deafness as a desirable attribute in adoptive couples. From what I know of Deirdre, she might have excluded herself on those grounds.’
That floored him. He sat back on his heels and thought of what he knew of Deirdre.
‘I thought she was a nurse during the war.’
‘She was.’
‘How could she be a nurse if she was deaf?’
‘She worked in a rehabilitation hospital. I imagine she would have fought tooth and nail to be useful. Lack of hearing wouldn’t have stopped her. From what I’ve heard of Deirdre, she refused ever to stand still. Half the older generation of this town knows some sort of sign language as everyone wanted to talk to her. They tell me she was irresistible. Angus loved her so much.’
The twin thing slammed back again. Deirdre and Susie, taking on life no matter what life threw at them.
‘How could they ever have communicated?’
‘Without e-mail?’ Susie said dryly. ‘It’s beyond comprehension, isn’t it? But Angus said he woke up one morning in his army hospital; she was standing by his bed and she smiled at him-and he just knew.’
‘Love across a crowded room,’ he said disparagingly. ‘Right.’
‘One of the other soldiers had lent him a magazine like
Susie was smiling again. When she smiled it was as if the sun came out, Hamish thought, and Angus’s words slammed into his consciousness with the force of a high-voltage charge.
‘I don’t suppose…’ he said into the stillness, and then paused.
‘You don’t suppose what?’ She was back to sorting, her head down, her curls falling forward, intent on the task at hand.
‘I don’t suppose you’d like to marry me?’
There was complete and utter silence in the room, and the silence lasted for ever.
What had he said? The words rang round and round in the silence, echoing over and over. He hadn’t meant to say them, he thought wildly. They were just suddenly-there.
‘Marry,’ Susie said at last, and she sounded like she’d been winded. ‘You’re asking me to marry you.’
‘Yes.’ He thought about it, wondering what on earth he was saying, but somehow the words still sounded right. His proposal might have been made on the spur of the moment, but that was definitely the gist of what he’d been asking.
‘And you’re asking me to marry you because?’ Susie demanded. She had her breath back now, and was sounding politely bemused. Which was wrong. He didn’t want her to sound politely bemused.
‘I suspect I’m in love with you,’ he managed, and listened to what he’d said and thought, Yep, that sounds OK, too. He sounded confused-but then he was feeling confused. About some things.
Not marriage. He was sure about this.
‘You’re engaged to Marcia.’
‘I’m not marrying Marcia.’
‘Marcia thinks you’re marrying Marcia.’
‘I’ve made a mistake,’ he said. ‘Jodie told me I was making a mistake and I didn’t see it. It’s only now-’
‘Who’s Jodie? Another fiancee?’
‘Jodie’s with Nick. He’s a woodcarver.’ He thought about the way Jodie had said goodbye to him, the way she’d dared him to take this holiday and move on.
Jodie would be proud of him.
‘So you moved on to Marcia?’
‘Jodie’s my secretary.’
‘She’s still in your life?’
‘Susie, can we get back to the issue at hand?’
‘Which is that you’d like to marry me.’
‘Yes.’ This was dumb, he thought. He was sitting on one side of the room in a tangle of sweaters and socks. She was sitting on the far side of Angus’s bed, surrounded by papers. He should be down on one knee on her side of the room. At the very least they should just have had a candlelit dinner-not the Country Women’s Association Tuna Surprise.
He thought of the finesse of his proposal to Marcia and the dinner that had preceded it and he almost grinned.
