A Kind of Magic Read online

  ‘Oh, just a friend, Granny. Shall I get coffee, Mother?’

  ‘Please dear, and tell Mrs MacFee that she can clear the table in five minutes, will you?’

  With old Mrs Macdonald staying with them, they had abandoned their cosy lunches in the kitchen, and they drank their coffee in the drawing-room; it made extra work, especially as they were still getting settled in, but, as her mother had pointed out to her husband, his mother expected it, and it was only for a week. He had given in, for he was a good son even if he and the old lady didn’t see eye to eye on certain matters. He engaged her in conversation now, and presently Rosie helped her up the stairs to her room and settled her down for her post-prandial nap, which left her free to run downstairs again before the old lady could think of anything else she might need while taking a rest on her bed.

  ‘That was Sir Fergus,’ she told her mother.

  Mrs Macdonald had picked up her knitting, and forced herself to finish the row before saying in a mildly questioning voice, ‘Yes, dear?’

  Rosie perched on the edge of the large and rather shabby sofa, and said, ‘You’re dying to know, aren’t you? Only, I couldn’t say anything with Granny there. Well, he’s asked me to spend the day walking with him tomorrow, and I said I would. He’s coming for me at nine o’clock—he wants to drive to Rannoch Station and leave the car there.’

  ‘What shall we do with your grandmother?’ asked her father from behind his newspaper.

  ‘Oh, Father, dear—’

  He interrupted her. ‘I have to go to Oban in the morning; I’ll take her in with me, and I’ll give her lunch at the Caledonian Hotel and bring her back in time for her nap. Then it will be your mother’s turn.’

  Rosie skipped over to kiss the top of his head. ‘You really are a splendid pair. I’ll do anything you want after tomorrow.’

  The sky was overcast when she got out of bed in the morning; the clouds hung low over the hills encircling the house—it would surely rain before the day was out.

  Rosie got into a denim skirt and a short-sleeved cotton shirt, and went down to help her mother get the breakfast.

  A pity it wasn’t a fine day, but even a heavy downpour wasn’t going to dim her good spirits. She fed Hob and Simpkins, fed the hens, made toast, and presently sat down to make a good breakfast. She had just taken up her grandmother’s tray when Sir Fergus arrived. She saw him drive up from the landing window, and stopped to have a good look. He appeared different, but then she had never seen him dressed casually. Cavalry twill trousers, she guessed from her vantage-point, and a cotton sweater over an open-necked shirt. He looked younger. She went on down to the kitchen, regretting that her cotton shirt had no style to it at all.

  He was in the kitchen, sitting on the table, drinking the coffee her mother had given him and eating the last of the breakfast toast, heavily buttered.

  ‘Fergus left very early this morning; he didn’t have a proper breakfast,’ explained her mother as Rosie went in.

  He got off the table and came to meet her. ‘Hello. A good day for a tramp. I’ve brought Gyp with me; she likes a good walk.’

  ‘Gyp?’

  ‘My dog. You won’t mind a few spots of rain?’ He eyed her person in a leisurely manner. ‘You’re sensibly dressed, anyway. Better bring a jacket.’

  ‘I have one ready,’ said Rosie coldly. He sounded just as she imagined an elder brother would sound. It was obvious to her that the cotton shirt would be quite adequate; indeed, an old sack would have done just as well.

  ‘Unless you would care for another slice of toast, I will get my jacket,’ she told him.

  He was standing by the car talking to her father when she got down. Gyp, a labrador with soulful eyes, was wandering around and came to meet her but, at a brief whistle from his master, got back into the car.

  ‘Ready?’ Sir Fergus bade her father goodbye, waved to her mother, who was standing at a window, and ushered her into the seat beside him.

  ‘Enjoy your day,’ said her father. She hoped that she would, but she wasn’t sure.

  Her doubts were quickly put at rest; her companion was at his most charming. ‘A pity about this drizzle, but we may be lucky and get better weather later on.’

  ‘I rather like sombre weather,’ commented Rosie. ‘Does Gyp like walking?’

  ‘Loves it. Shall we have coffee at Rannoch? There’s a picnic of sorts in the boot.’

  ‘I should like that. Which way are we walking?’

  ‘I thought the West Highland walkway for a start, but we can turn off on to the edge of the moor—it’ll be pretty damp—’ He glanced at her shoes. ‘Sensible shoes, I see.’

  To which she made no reply. Did he think that she was fool enough to wear something dainty with a high heel? And she born and brought up in the Highlands?

  He went on smoothly, ‘I have before now escorted ladies who had no idea how wild and remote the moor is. You know it well, I expect?’

  ‘I’ve walked there several times with Father—the heather was out and the pools sparkled…’

  ‘A bit early for the heather yet, but even under a grey sky the pools are a delight.’

  ‘I’d love to skate across it…’

  ‘We shall do it together next winter—much more fun than swimming across in the summer.’

  ‘I’ve never met anyone who has done that.’

  ‘Several of us did it—oh, years ago when we were medical students.’

  ‘Was it very long ago?’ she asked.

  ‘I have been qualified for eleven years. I’m thirty-five, Rosie. Does that seem old to you?’

  ‘Heavens, no! I’m twenty-five, you know.’

  ‘Yes. I do know.’ They were almost at Rannoch, and the Grampians loomed all around them.

  ‘It’s going to clear,’ said Sir Fergus, and stopped outside the hotel.

  They had their coffee, Gyp had a bowl of water, and they were on their way, sandwiches stashed away in pockets with a couple of bottles of spa water.

  They took a track across the moor towards the twin peaks of Buachaille, and then doubled back to the road again. They were on the highest part of the moor now, and although the sky was cloud-filled the view was magnificent.

  They found a fallen tree, and sat down on it and pointed out the various peaks to each other. ‘I could sit here all day,’ declared Rosie.

  ‘Well, you’re not going to. There’s a stalker’s path which will take up to Cashlie Station, and another one which will bring us out at Loch Tulla. We can pick up the road there.’ He gave her a sidelong look. ‘Not too far for you?’

  ‘Certainly not, Sir Fergus.’

  ‘Would it be possible for you to call me Fergus? We can find somewhere by Loch Tulla to eat our sandwiches.’

  There was a strong, cool wind blowing, and Rosie, tramping along, her hair all over the place, her cheeks glowing, hadn’t felt as happy for a long time; and she had never looked so pretty. The professor observed her discreetly, and decided that she was beautiful.

  They walked on for some time until, at length, they saw the loch ahead of them.

  ‘Good, I’m famished!’ said the professor. ‘There’s a dead root over there; it will do nicely.’

  So they sat eating their sandwiches—smoked salmon, cold beef, cheese and pickles, between thinly cut bread, lavishly buttered. ‘Did you get these at the Hospital?’ asked Rosie, her mouth full.

  ‘No. My housekeeper rather fancies herself as a sandwich-
maker.’ He opened one of the bottles. ‘You’ll have to drink from it.’

  Which she did with the unselfconsciousness of a child.

  After a moment she asked, ‘Are you married, Fergus?’

  ‘You asked me that, or had you forgotten? Or perhaps I didn’t give you a very satisfactory answer?’

  ‘Well, you said that you hoped to be. I—I just wondered if you’d got married since then?’

  He handed her a sandwich, the gleam in his eyes hidden. ‘I’ll let you know when I do marry, Rosie!’

  CHAPTER SIX

  THEY started walking again presently, and Fergus kept their talk impersonal, but after a while Rosie blurted out, ‘I’m sorry, that was rude of me—asking you about being married, I mean. Of course, you couldn’t possibly be, for if you were you wouldn’t be here now, would you?’

  He suppressed a smile, his voice matter-of-fact. ‘Well, no. I rather think that when I marry I shall settle down and be an exemplary husband.’

  She nodded. ‘Well, yes, and anyway, I expect you have to be circumspect don’t you—being well-known and respected?’

  He threw back his head and let out a roar of laughter. ‘Are you crediting me with leading a secretly amorous life behind the façade of my profession?’

  She stopped, stamped her foot in temper, and got it wet. ‘Now look what you’ve made me do—and what a silly thing to say! That wasn’t what I meant at all—you know it wasn’t.’

  He said blandly, ‘Well, of course I know; I cannot imagine why you should have any interest in me as a person. We scarcely know each other, do we?’

  She looked up into his quiet face. ‘No—no, we don’t.’

  ‘That can, of course, be remedied. Indeed, I thought that we were verging on a kind of cautious friendship.’

  She smiled suddenly. ‘Yes—well—’ she put out a hand ‘—all right, Fergus.’

  His hand was firm and very large, and for some reason she wanted to leave her own hand in its grasp. She withdrew it prudently, and he bent and kissed her gently.

  ‘Sealed with a kiss,’ he observed cheerfully. ‘Let us walk on.’

  Which they did.

  Presently Rosie asked, ‘It doesn’t mean that we can’t argue, does it?’

  He smiled. ‘My dear girl, if you should feel the urge to speak your mind, feel free to do so.’

  ‘Oh, good. May I ask you about your work now without being nosy?’

  ‘I’m an orthopaedic surgeon.’

  ‘Yes, but everyone seems to know you—are you a consultant surgeon or something?’

  ‘A consultant, yes. I have my base, so to speak, at the Royal Infirmary, but I visit other hospitals.’

  ‘Hospitals in Scotland? They knew you at Oban.’

  He said gravely, ‘I go there from time to time. I go to England quite often. I went to Holland last week…’

  ‘To a hospital? To operate?’

  ‘Yes, and also to examine medical students.’

  ‘Why were you knighted?’

  ‘Oh, my name must have come first out of the hat.’

  She, aware that he wasn’t going to say more than that, asked, ‘Am I asking too many questions?’

  ‘No, no. They will clear the ground.’

  It was on the tip of her tongue to ask what ground, but she suspected that if she did so he would only give her another puzzling reply.

  They were back on the road again, skirting the moor, and after a time they reached the hotel once more. It was beginning to drizzle again, but the clouds were broken.

  ‘It will be a fine day tomorrow,’ Sir Fergus remarked.

  ‘You’ll be back in Edinburgh?’

  ‘I’m driving down to Leeds and then on to London—I’ll be away for quite a while.’ He added idly, ‘You are driving your granny back, I suppose?’

  ‘Oh, yes, and I said I’d stay a couple of days so that my aunt Carrie can finish the plans for her wedding.’

  He whistled to Gyp, and opened the hotel door. ‘Tea, I think, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ She nodded briskly at him, and went off to look for the ‘Ladies’; she must look pretty wind-swept and damp by now.

  They ate a huge tea—buttered toast, sandwiches, scones and butter and almost all of a plate of cakes, sitting opposite each other at a small table in the hotel’s cosy lounge with Gyp between them, enjoying her share.

  ‘Have you been to Strontian? There’s a good hotel there by the loch. Will you have dinner with me there?’

  ‘Oh, yes, thank you.’ And then, ‘Will they let us in?’ She looked down at her sensibly clad person. ‘It’s at the other end of Glen Tarbet, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes—used a good deal by walkers and anglers. I don’t think they’ll object to us.’ He glanced at his watch. ‘They don’t serve dinner after half-past seven, so perhaps we had better be going. We’ll have to go up to Fort William and then down the other side of Loch Linnhe.’

  ‘You’ve been there before?’

  ‘Several times. On second thoughts we’ll cross over at Ballachulish and get the ferry over to Corran, go down the 861 and turn off for Glen Tarbet. We may have to go back through Fort William, the ferry may not be running; it will have to be the long way round.’

  ‘It’s not all that far,’ said Rosie instantly, so that he smiled to himself.

  The road was a good one, running between the mountains, and the sky, washed clear of clouds once more, promised a magnificent sunset. They didn’t talk much; Fergus, Rosie had discovered, wasn’t a man who needed to be entertained with small talk. So beyond pointing out the occasional red deer or a particularly splendid waterfall or view she maintained the silence, and he made no attempt to break it.

  The light was still good as he turned into Glen Tarbet; mountains towered to left and right of them, and then thick black forest which presently allowed them a glimpse of the loch ahead of them. The road narrowed as they entered the village and drove on for a short distance to the hotel. It was charming, standing in its own grounds bordering the loch, and any fears Rosie had about the wrong clothes were put at rest by their warm welcome. Sir Fergus, it seemed, was known there. She went away to make the best of her appearance, and joined him in the bar before they went in to dinner.

  The hotel was quite full, and thankfully there were several parties dining who were wearing clothes as casual as her own. She settled down into her chair and cast an appreciative eye over the menu. She hadn’t felt particularly hungry, but the menu was mouth-watering; she chose smoked salmon, roast beef and all the trimmings that went with it, and happily drank the claret Sir Fergus chose. She finished the meal with millefeuille, rejecting with regret his offer of a second helping, and then joining him for coffee.

  They lingered over their meal, and the long evening was sliding into night when they left the hotel with Gyp walking sedately at her master’s heels. Rosie perched on a nearby wall while Sir Fergus opened a box in the boot, arranged a bowl of food for Gyp and another bowl with water, and went to sit by her.

  ‘Time for a stroll down to the Loch?’ he enquired. ‘It’s half an hour to the ferry, and another forty minutes or so to Inverard.’

  They sat for a while, and then walked slowly down to the water while Gyp wandered round, to come presently at his low whistle and get back into the car where she curled up and composed herself for a nap.

  Sir Fergus glanced over his shoulder at the dog as he started up the engine. ‘She’s tired; what a
bout you, Rosie?’

  ‘Tired? Me? Not a bit—well, my feet are a bit, but I could go on all night like this…’ She stopped abruptly, glad that he couldn’t see her red face. ‘What I mean…’ she began, and wondered how to go on.

  He helped her out with casual ease. ‘I know exactly how you feel—there’s a kind of magic about this part of the world, isn’t there? I can understand why thousands come back year after year just to walk and climb. Do you climb, Rosie?’

  They were driving back through Glen Tarbet, and the powerful car lights picked out the road ahead with rough grass slopes edging their way up to the mountains.

  ‘No,’ said Rosie, ‘I’m frightened of heights. Silly, isn’t it? Because I love the hills and mountains. I expect you climb, don’t you?’

  ‘Whenever I have the chance, which isn’t very often.’

  ‘Of course there isn’t much chance if you live in Edinburgh!’

  Fergus thought of his home, not so far away from where they were, surrounded by the highland hills and the loch close by. It wasn’t the time to tell her about it; she must be given the chance to like him without any inducement to do so, not that he thought her likes and dislikes could be swayed by anyone once she had made up her mind. He smiled to himself in the dimness of the car, and said, ‘Here we are at the ferry, and it’s still running.’

  He kept the conversation casual and undemanding for the rest of their journey, and it was Rosie who asked, as he turned the car through the open gates leading to her home,

  ‘Do you have to leave in the morning? Won’t you be tired? It’s more than a hundred miles to Edinburgh…’

  They could see the lights of her home twinkling at the bottom of the lane. ‘You’ll come in for coffee, won’t you?’

  ‘Is it not too late? It’s kind of you to ask me, but I think I had better drive on.’

  All the same, he got out of the car, and helped her out before doing the same for Gyp. The door opened at her touch, and she led the way into the drawing-room, to find her mother and father sitting there.