Chasing Angels (32 page)

Now that Kirsty had her own home, Mavis and Donnie ‘rattled about’, as she put it, inside the three-bedroomed flat, so Kathy was welcome to stay with them as long as she wanted.
There were bound to be chores Mavis wanted carried out and she certainly wanted to hear everything that had led to the present impasse between Kathy and Rory, which would in turn lead to her own
opinions on the matter and the giving of advice to be carried out to the letter. She wasn’t long in entering the fray; Kathy had still to put her hastily-packed suitcase in her bedroom when
Mavis instructed her, with an impatiently waved hand, to put it down forthwith.

‘Right,’ she said, pushing Kathy into the armchair opposite her, and quickly lighting a cigarette. ‘What’s been going on?’ She looked across the lounge at Donnie,
who was happily sprawled in front of the TV. ‘And, Donnie!’ she called, ‘you can take yourself out of this! This isnae for your ears!’

‘Right you are, my little dove,’ Donnie replied lazily, making a great show of shuffling his feet and moving about in his chair without actually moving from it, and as Mavis turned
her attention to Kathy, Donnie settled back as he was.

‘There’s nothing been going on,’ Kathy replied. ‘He’s just the way he is. He canny say anything pleasant, every word that comes out of his mouth is some kind of
crack. It was bad enough when Bunty and Angus were there, but now?’ she shrugged.

‘You know,’ Mavis said, taking a puff at her cigarette, ‘you could do worse than Rory Macdonald.’

‘What do you mean?’ Kathy asked, shocked to the core.

‘Well, he’s what? In his forties now? And you’re no spring chicken.’

‘I’m thirty-five!’ Kathy gasped, confused about which insult to tackle first.

‘And,’ Mavis continued unabashed, ‘he’s a fine-looking man. Our Seona’s not the only one sweet on him – Donnie! Are you still here? Go and do something
useful, make us a cuppa, Kathy and me need to talk!’

‘Absolutely, my cherub,’ Donnie replied, not moving from his chair. ‘Going this very minute, so I am.’

‘Aye, he’s a fine-looking man,’ Mavis recapped, ‘but he must be getting desperate at his age.’

‘What the hell do you mean?’ Kathy demanded again. ‘You think that’s all I’m good for then? Taking on some sod who’s too old to bother finding himself a wife
and is getting desperate?’

‘Well you must be getting worried yourself,’ Mavis said amiably. ‘I’m not saying you’re Doris Karloff exactly, but let’s face it, you’re not in your
first flush either, Kathy.’

‘Hang on a minute!’ Kathy blustered. ‘We’ll leave the exact level of my flush to one side for the minute, but has it not struck you that I’ve never wanted a man and
weans?’

‘Ach,’ Mavis replied dismissively, ‘away to hell!’

‘Feminism has passed you right by, hasn’t it?’ Kathy demanded.

‘Aye,’ Mavis replied. ‘I live in the real world, where women’s choice ends up the same every time.’ She looked across at Donnie. ‘That’s the
reality,’ she said cheerfully. ‘That thing sitting in the chair there, listening to every word
and letting on that he isnae
!’

‘That’s a lie!’ Donnie said without looking up.

‘That’s what feminism amounts to in these parts! And you,’ she shouted at Donnie, ‘have you got that kettle on yet?’

‘Aye, and the biscuits are on the plate ready too,’ Donnie lied. ‘Tea will be served in a minute, so it will.’

‘Mavis,’ Kathy said, trying not to sound as exasperated as she felt, ‘you obviously don’t understand. I hate Rory Macdonald, and he hates me. We canny say a word to each
other without it ending in a fight. Hatred isnae attraction.’

‘Of course it is!’ Mavis laughed, leaning forward to stub out the remains of her cigarette and, in the same movement, reaching for another. ‘You don’t know anything, do
you? Every happy marriage thrives on mutual loathing! Isn’t that right, Donnie?’

‘Havnae a clue, cherry blossom,’ he called back. ‘Havnae been listening to a word, as directed.’

‘No, Mavis,’ Kathy said. ‘This isnae like you and Donnie, honest. I really don’t like Rory, we don’t like each other. And I’m telling you the truth,
I’ve never wanted to get married and have kids. Never.’

‘I don’t believe that,’ Mavis replied with utter conviction.

‘Therefore,’ came Donnie’s voice, ‘it cannot be!’

‘Are you listening to us?’ Mavis demanded severely.

‘No,’ Donnie lied.

‘Have you made the tea?’

‘Aye,’ he lied again.

‘I don’t mind seeing you moving from that chair!’ she accused.

‘That’s because I’m like greased lightning, my love,’ he smiled, his eyes never leaving the TV screen. ‘The most you could expect to see was a blur from the corner
of your eye!’

Kathy was feeling uncomfortable. ‘Mavis, I don’t want you going about saying there’s something between me and him,’ she said. ‘It’s the last thing I want to
be going around. Please, don’t say things like that to anybody else.’

‘Please yourself!’ Mavis replied, flicking ash off her knees. ‘But everybody had the two of you matched up for years, folk have been taking bets on when. My money’s on
any day now. Now that his mother’s gone he’ll need somebody to look after him, and you’re available!’

‘Have you any idea how insulting that is? And on so many different levels that I don’t know where to start!’

‘Oh come on, Kathy! You don’t believe in all that hearts and flowers nonsense, do you? People get together because it suits their needs, not because they’re struck by
Cupid’s dart! You’re far too old to be thinking like that! If you annoy each other at least it’s a reaction, think what it would be like to spend all that time with somebody who
didnae get on your nerves – you’d die of boredom! Isn’t that right, Donnie?’

‘Aye, well, not that I’m suggesting I have an opinion of my own, you understand,’ he smiled sweetly, ‘but what the hell would I do with real wedded bliss?’

‘Y’see?’ Mavis said triumphantly. ‘And I was thinking. You know this tearoom we’re opening? You must’ve learned a lot from old Bunty, you could run that,
couldn’t you? Make a few buns and things?’

Kathy opened her mouth to protest, she had been thinking of doing something else entirely, but Mavis rushed on.

‘You’ll need a job anyway, and what else are you good for apart from looking after old folk? I don’t mind doing you a favour, and you can stay here.’ She slapped her
knees as though sealing a bargain. ‘I’m really looking forward to having some female company about the place again,’ she said happily, then she looked across at Donnie.
‘It’ll be good to have some sensible conversation.’

‘But I’ll have you bored senseless,’ Kathy said tartly, ‘seeing as I’m only fit to cope with geriatrics.’

‘Och, don’t worry about it, we’ll put up with you fine!’ she said, and set off to make the long-awaited tea.

From the other side of the sitting room Donnie looked across and smiled. ‘Nice try,’ he said slyly, ‘but you’ll need to do better than that, Kathy! She has the hide of a
rhinoceros, that one!’

The next day she kept an eye out for Rory Macdonald, and when she saw him heading towards Fort William in the van, she walked up the hill to the house, collected the rest of her belongings and
brought them back to her room in the flat. So that was it, then; the thing was done. It was hard to believe that her life had changed so much in such a short time. Two short weeks, that’s all
it had taken, and now she had no idea which direction she would take or what would become of her. Still, no point in sitting around getting depressed, she decided, and at least she had a job and a
temporary place to call home. Mavis was arguing with the workers who were building the new tearoom extension, you could hear her long before you could see her, but being locals they were taking
little notice. She broke off when Kathy entered, pulling her from one spot to another, pointing out where the counter would be, where the tables and chairs would go. ‘And,’ she said
excitedly, ‘I have news for you!’ She turned to Lachie Stuart, the carpenter who had been so memorably inducted into the ranks of real Scotsmen at Kirsty’s wedding. ‘Tell
her, Donnie!’ she ordered.

‘Old Edith’s house is being done up,’ he said.

Kathy shrugged and looked at Mavis quizzically.

‘Tell her
right
!’ Mavis ordered.

‘There’s nothing else to tell,’ Lachie protested. ‘Rory Macdonald asked me to give him a hand with it, that’s all.’

‘And
why
do you think it’s being done up?’ Mavis demanded, looking excitedly from Kathy to Lachie.

‘How the hell should I know, Mavis?’ Lachie grinned.

‘Are you saying you never asked?’

‘Course I didnae! What business is it of mine? Either he’s doing it up to sell it or somebody’s moving in. Maybe Rory himself. The house up the hill will be too big for him
now.’

Mavis drew him an exasperated look. ‘Men!’ she said, reaching for a cigarette. ‘Do you know what he’s up to, Kathy?’

‘How would I know?’ she asked. ‘When was the last time he and I spoke?’

Over the coming months there was much talk about how the work on Edith’s house was progressing. It was double glazed, they said, central heating had been installed, a new kitchen and
bathroom too, but Rory explained his plans to no one. There was a great deal of speculation locally, but Kathy said nothing, even if she did daydream. Then one day he phoned down to the flat. He
would, he said, be waiting outside in the van for Kathy in five minutes, then the line went dead. She climbed in beside him as quickly as she could, hoping Mavis was too busy hounding the men
working on the extension to have noticed, and the van sped off to Edith’s house.

‘If you still want to live there you’d better see what it’s like,’ Rory said, the first words he’d spoken since putting the phone down. ‘If you’ve
changed your mind I have other plans for it.’

‘What plans?’

‘I could sell the big house and live here myself—’

‘You couldnae do that!’

‘– or I could sell both and go abroad,’ he finished.

Edith’s house had two bedrooms, but it was small and compact enough for her needs. She remembered her arrival at Glenfinnan fifteen years before, with Angus driving in his usual
bat-out-of-hell fashion. All she had had was a glimpse of the cottage as the battered Mini zoomed past, but she’d liked it from that first brief look. Rory had stayed outside and she watched
from the window as he went down to the shore and walked about. She didn’t know how to handle this development. With anyone else she could express her feelings, say how delighted and grateful
she was, but not with him, not with the way things were between them; it would have to be kept on a strictly business footing. And yet she
was
delighted, she
was
grateful. How was she
to handle this? She walked down to the shore, where he was sitting on a rock, looking out over Loch Shiel. He looked up at the sound of her feet sinking into the shingle.

‘How much rent do you want?’ she asked.

‘What?’ He looked annoyed. ‘I don’t want any rent!’ he said quietly, his voice showing his irritation.

Was there anything she could say that didn’t provoke his annoyance?

‘It wouldnae be right if I didnae pay rent.’

He stood up and threw a handful of pebbles into the loch. ‘What the hell is it with you?’ he demanded angrily. ‘Why is it so very important to protect this virtue of yours?
You’re a grown woman, for God’s sake, not some innocent virgin! Why do you care what people might say?’

She didn’t reply.

‘How will anyone else know what the arrangement is between us if neither one of us tells them? And even if they did find out, do you really think they’ve got nothing better to do
than wonder what, and why?’

‘It’s not for other people,’ she said quietly. ‘It’s for me.’

‘Then what’s wrong with you?’ he asked, running his hand over his hair. ‘I’m not giving you something, you’re not a charity case, you own half of the house
and the land.’

‘I don’t want it!’
she said angrily. ‘How many times do I have to tell you that? Angus shouldnae have done it! It’s not my house, I won’t take any part
of it!’

‘You’re such an ungrateful bitch!’ he shouted at her. ‘Have you any idea how hurt he’d be if he heard you saying that?’

She felt tears prickling her eyes. ‘I’m grateful,’ she said formally, ‘to you for showing me the cottage. If we can come to some arrangement about the rent, I’d be
happy to move in. Otherwise, maybe you’d be better to sell it.’

‘Suit yourself,’ he said. ‘I’ve done everything I can.’

‘As they turned to go back to the van Rory stopped. ‘Can you hear that?’ he asked, inclining his head.

‘What?’

‘Ssh! Listen!’

There was a faint cry. ‘It’s a bird,’ she said.

‘It’s not a bird!’ he replied. ‘Listen.’ He looked around the shingle and then picked up a cloth bag lying at the base of a tree by the water’s edge. He set
it down on a rock, took out his knife and cut the string trying it at the top. ‘Somebody’s tried to drown kittens!’ he said. ‘Bastards!’

He took out two tiny, lifeless things. ‘The other one’s barely alive,’ he said. ‘It’s hardly breathing!’ He handed it to her, taking off his jacket.

‘What am I supposed to do?’ she asked helplessly, a disturbing feeling of having been here before filling her.

‘Get something to dry it off, get it up to the cottage!’

She pushed it back at him. ‘I canny,’ she said. ‘You do it. I don’t know how to.’

He glared at her. ‘It’s a living creature,’ he said. ‘Do you want it to die?’

‘I’m no good at helping things to live,’ she protested, feeling the panic rising. ‘Even plants die when I have to look after them.’

‘For God’s sake!’ he said. ‘Next you’ll be telling me you’ve got the kiss of death!’ As he was shouting at her he was taking his sweater off and
wrapping it around the kitten. ‘So, tell me,’ he said sarcastically. ‘How many small, innocent creatures have you killed, then?’

Kathy stared at him in horror. It was as if he knew and was tormenting her with it. She tried to stifle the cry in her throat, so that when it came out of her mouth it sounded like someone in
pain, as she turned and ran awkwardly, her feet slipping on the shingle, back to the safety of the van.