An Ideal Wife Read online

  Aunt Kitty had the door open before they were out of the Land Rover. She was a tall, thin woman with a still handsome face, and grey hair swept into an old-fashioned bun. She had been a good deal older than Louisa’s mother, and Louisa remembered her as a very elegant and well-dressed woman. She still was, but since her marriage fifteen years ago to Uncle Bob, when she had been in her late forties, the elegance had been transferred to tweeds, cashmere and stout shoes—a countrywoman’s wardrobe. She hugged Louisa with warmth.

  ‘Prettier than ever! Lovely to see you again; you must be tired. Come on in, love. There’s a meal waiting, and then off to bed with you.’

  Louisa said, ‘Oh, Aunt Kitty, this is heavenly. It’s like another world—and I’m famished.’

  She always had the same room when she came, the one overlooking the loch, with its old-fashioned bed, its patchwork quilt and the little basket chair by the window. There was a solid wardrobe and a washbasin in one corner, a small table by the bed and a handful of books on the ledge under the window.

  They had been there since Louisa had first visited her aunt and uncle with her mother and father. She had been a teenager, and she had never forgotten how happy she had been. Her mother had died the following year and for a year or two she hadn’t come, then she and her father had come again each year until he’d married Felicity, who had refused to return the visit Louisa’s aunt and uncle had paid them soon after their marriage. So Louisa had begun to come on her own—not every year, but whenever she could.

  She unpacked her case, ate a huge supper and went to bed, with the window wide to the night summer air, waking early to hang out of the window and watch the waters of the loch change colour as the sun rose.

  Every time she came she was surprised afresh at the amount of things there were to do each day—rowing her uncle out into the loch so that he might fish, pottering in the garden behind the house, grubbing up weeds, digging potatoes. Driving to Torridon a few miles away so that her aunt could shop. And in the afternoons, while her uncle snoozed behind his newspaper and her aunt dozed over her knitting, Louisa took herself off, behind the village, up into the hills which led across rugged country to the mountains, and sometimes, greatly daring, she rowed herself over to the small island in the loch.

  It belonged to the Scottish National Trust, and there was a fairly constant stream of visitors, which, now the summer was advanced, was increasing, but now only a handful of people were there. It was quiet save for birds and wildlife, and Louisa lay on the grass, bare-legged and barefoot, wearing a wide cotton skirt and a thin cotton T-shirt, listening to the small noises she never heard in Salisbury—bees, dragonflies, birdsong, sheep bleating behind the village, the rustle of some small animal making its way through the undergrowth. A day for dreaming.

  Half-awake, Louisa said, ‘I wish Thomas was here...’

  * * *

  Thomas, after a morning being briefed by Sir James, had returned to his home. He had an evening surgery, but before that he had a good deal of paperwork to deal with. So he wasn’t best pleased when Helena walked into his study.

  He hadn’t seen her over the weekend; she had been away visiting friends, and no amount of cajoling on her part had tempted him to go with her.

  He had said, rather sternly, ‘You don’t understand, Helena. I’m a working man; I can’t ignore that.’

  She had been peevish about it. ‘You could get a full-time secretary,’ she told him, ‘and another partner.’

  She pouted prettily now. ‘We’ve been asked to dine with Percy Witherspoon—tomorrow evening. I thought I’d let you know so that you would be free...’

  ‘I’m afraid that it’s not possible. I’m going to Scotland in the morning. Sir James isn’t able to attend a seminar and see a patient there. I shall be gone for several days—a week at least.’

  Helena said furiously, ‘Why didn’t you tell me? Someone else can go.’

  ‘I’m afraid not. And I would have told you, Helena, but you were away, and when I phoned I was told you had gone for a drive with Witherspoon.’

  She had the grace to look uncomfortable. ‘At least he bothers about me. What do you expect me to do? Stay at home waiting for you to spend an hour or so with me when you feel like it?’

  ‘No, of course not. But, Helena, you must realise that my work isn’t a nine-to-five job.’

  ‘Well, of course I do, but I thought you’d change once we were engaged.’ She added, ‘I ought to be more important to you than your work.’

  When he didn’t answer that, she said, ‘I intend to dine with Percy. Perhaps when you come back you’ll realise that I won’t be second best, and give up some of your stupid patients and enjoy life.’

  ‘I’m sorry you feel like that,’ Thomas was trying to be fair, to see her point of view.

  ‘Then do something about it.’ Helena turned on her heel, on her way out aiming a kick at Bellow, who had risen politely to accompany her to the door. ‘And the first thing I do when we are married,’ said Helena furiously, ‘will be to have this silly dog put down.’

  She slammed the door after her, and Bellow pottered back to sit under Thomas’s desk, looking hurt.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Thomas. ‘I’ll never allow that, old fellow.’ He bent and studied his work again, but presently raised his head to say, ‘You shall come with me to Scotland, Bellow. Rosie can get that niece of hers to sleep here and keep her company.’

  Bellow’s tail thumped steadily in approval; he didn’t like Helena.

  They left very early in the morning, and Rosie, with Lucky the kitten tucked under her arm, watched them go. She gave a final wave as the car turned the corner and went back indoors.

  ‘We’ll miss him,’ she told the kitten, ‘but a few days away will do him the power of good and give him a rest from that woman. And, if she comes round here giving me orders, she’ll get short shrift, I can tell you.’

  * * *

  Thomas had a long journey ahead of him, almost six hundred miles. He crossed country, picked up the M5 just north of Bristol and drove steadily north, merging presently with the M6. It was monotonous on the motorway but the car was warm and comfortable, and Bellow, sitting beside him, was a good companion. True, he had nothing to say, but he listened to every word Thomas uttered.

  The doctor drove fast, sitting relaxed behind the wheel, stopping from time to time for a meal and to let Bellow browse, but he made good time and crossed over the border into Scotland in the late afternoon. By evening he was in Glasgow, comfortably installed in the house of one of Sir James’s friends, a pleasant, elderly man with a charming wife. They made him very welcome, and Bellow, aware that he was welcome too, behaved impeccably.

  Over dinner they discussed the following day’s seminar. ‘There will be a dinner in the evening,’ Thomas was warned. ‘Black tie and wives.’

  ‘I do have a black tie with me,’ said Thomas, ‘but no wife, I’m afraid.’

  ‘You’re intending to marry, so James told me. You must come again and bring her with you.’

  The next day was fully occupied, which was just as well, for it meant he had no time to think about Louisa. Only that night he allowed himself to dream a little. A dangerous thing to do, he knew, but it was all he had—dreams. Perhaps when he saw her again, talked to her, spent a few hours in her company he would be rid of this infatuation...

  He went to Edinburgh in the morning and saw Professor Lutvik, who promised to go to Salisbury to discuss his theories with Sir James, and then in the late afternoon he drove on north to a small village just outside Inverness.

  The house was large, secure behind high walls, and had a gate controlled by a gatekeeper. The drive was long, and the doctor stopped again as he neared the house. But he was expected, and presently was ushered into a vast hall by a butler, led into a small room, splendidly furnished, and asked to w
ait. The two young men who came eventually were friendly.

  ‘You are not tired? You will be shown to your room, and please ask for anything you want. If you would conduct your examination tomorrow morning?’

  ‘Certainly. I have my dog with me...’

  ‘No trouble. There is a sitting room beside your bedroom with a balcony, and please feel free to walk in the grounds. We have guard dogs out overnight but they are shut up at seven o’clock each morning.’

  The elder of the two men said, ‘We look forward to dining with you at eight o’clock. Breakfast will be served to you in your sitting room.’

  They smiled at him, their dark eyes twinkling. ‘We hope that your report will be a good one, for we would wish to return to our own country.’

  ‘Yes, of course. I’ll phone Sir James and make sure that he shares my opinion and let you know as soon as possible.’

  They left him and he went out to his car to fetch Bellow. After a stroll round the grounds the pair of them went to his room, led there by the butler. Thomas was a little amused at the formality and signs of security, but was aware that the latter were necessary.

  He dined presently with the two young men, went to bed early, and was up soon after seven o’clock to walk in the grounds with Bellow. It was going to be another glorious day, and driving across to Shieldaig would be a delight. And he would see Louisa—perhaps not today, but certainly tomorrow. He went in to his breakfast then, had a long talk with Sir James on the phone, and then went to sit on the balcony with Bellow until he was summoned to his patient.

  The examination was a lengthy business, followed by a long talk with his patient, an even longer discussion on the phone with Sir James and finally a decision made that his patient might return to his own country, fully restored to health. It all took some time, so it was late afternoon by the time Thomas, with the faithful Bellow beside him, drove away, too late to arrive unannounced at Shieldaig. But Torridon was a mere sixty miles from Inverness. He drove there, not hurrying along the narrow road, and when he reached the town booked in at the Loch Torridon Hotel, a large house which had once been a shooting lodge. It stood in spacious grounds beside the loch and its luxurious comfort, after the grandeur of his patient’s home, was a welcome surprise. The doctor, his mission accomplished, took Bellow for a long walk, ate a good dinner and went to his bed.

  * * *

  Louisa, a bare few miles away, went to bed early, too. She had been out on the loch for most of the day with her uncle, plying the oars while he fished. A delightful way to spend a day, but she had promised her aunt that she would pick the strawberries ready for jam-making in the morning, and all that rowing had tired her. She curled up in her bed with a contented sigh, allowed her thoughts to dwell briefly on Thomas, and went to sleep.

  The weather had held. Everyone said they hadn’t had such a lovely summer for years, and several of the older people in the village predicted that once the weather broke there would be nothing but wind and rain, and, later, snow. Aunt Kitty, who never listened to any weather forecasts, had great faith in the local inhabitants’ opinions. The strawberries must be picked before the rain they forecast came.

  Louisa had breakfast and, armed with a large basket, went to the edge of the garden where it merged into the surrounding moorland and where her uncle had a large strawberry patch. She got down onto her knees and began picking. It was awkward work, but she enjoyed it. Just for the time being she was content. Salisbury seemed like another world. Her work, the patients, Sir James, Felicity and Percy, the odious Helena—they were jumbled up in a vague muddle she had thrust to the back of her head. Only Thomas had refused to join them there.

  ‘Which is ridiculous,’ said Louisa, talking to herself as she so often did, ‘since it really doesn’t matter if I never see him again. Only I hope he’ll be happy...’

  She took the first full basket to the kitchen, assured her aunt that she was enjoying herself, and went back to fill the second basket. There was no sign of the rain forecast in the village, but, said Aunt Kitty, ‘Better to be safe than sorry.’ And, ‘When you’ve filled that basket there’ll be coffee waiting for you and a slice of bannock.’

  Aunt Kitty was sitting in the porch, stringing beans, when the doctor brought the Bentley to a quiet halt. She watched him get out of the car and come towards her. She wished him good morning, and added, ‘You’ve come to see Louisa?’

  ‘Good morning. Yes, indeed I have. Is she expecting me?’

  ‘Gracious me, no. Never breathed a word about you coming here. Come on inside. She’s picking strawberries, but she’ll be back any minute now. Shall I call her?’

  ‘I’d rather you didn’t...’

  ‘Come in, then. She’s down at the end of the garden. I dare say you could do with a cup of coffee.’ Aunt Kitty turned to look at him. ‘You’ll be the doctor—she mentioned you just the once. You’ve come a long way.’ She stared up at his calm face and liked what she saw. He was the reason for Louisa’s dreaminess when she thought no one was looking.

  Aunt Kitty, scenting romance, sat him down in the kitchen and arranged the coffee cups. Five minutes later Louisa came in, her basket loaded, strawberry stains down the front of her cotton dress and round her mouth, her hair tied back with a ribbon, her delightful nose sprinkled with freckles.

  Thomas, getting to his feet, thought he had never seen anyone as beautiful in his life and knew that this wasn’t infatuation, this was love.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  LOUISA PUT THE basket down slowly, and stood staring at him. She said in a small, squeaky voice, ‘Thomas?’ And then, ‘You’re here...’

  A stupid remark to make. She wished that she could think of something witty and amusing to say; she wished even more that she didn’t look such a fright.

  Thomas, watching her face, guessed what she was thinking. He said, carefully casual, ‘Sir James had several appointments in Scotland and he felt that he couldn’t leave his wife, so I’m deputising for him.’

  ‘Oh, I see. Are you on your way back, then?’

  ‘Er, no. I still have a few days before I return. I remembered that you were here at Shieldaig and hoped you would show me some of the country around here.’

  ‘A sensible idea,’ said Aunt Kitty. ‘Go and wash your face, Louisa. We’ll have coffee and you can take the doctor a bit of the way up Ben Shieldaig. It’ll give you both an appetite for lunch.’ She looked at the doctor. ‘You’ll come here, of course. Staying at the hotel, are you?’

  He smiled and said yes.

  ‘They’ll look after you very well, but come and go here as you wish. I shall call you Thomas.’ She turned to look at Louisa, who was still hovering by the door.

  ‘Run along, child, what’s keeping you? No need to fuss about your clothes; there’s no one to see you—nor your hair.’

  Louisa went up to her room then. Did her aunt suppose that Thomas was blind? She must change her stained dress and put up her hair. And halfway through doing that she paused to wonder if it mattered. He never looked at her—not to see her—only that once when she had told him about it. All the same, she got into a denim skirt and a cotton top and pinned her hair in a ferocious bundle on the top of her head.

  And Thomas, not blind at all, thought she looked even more beautiful when she went back downstairs.

  Aunt Kitty gave them coffee and bannock and urged them out of the house. ‘One o’clock sharp,’ she reminded them. ‘Your uncle will be back and want his lunch.’ She added, ‘Enjoy yourselves!’

  Louisa, leading the way across the rough grass towards the lower slopes of Ben Shieldaig, thought that would be unlikely. She couldn’t think why Thomas had come and, being Louisa, not given to mincing her words, she said so.

  Thomas was ready for that. ‘The other two appointments aren’t until the end of next week, so I have time on my hands.’


  He told her this so convincingly that she didn’t doubt him. ‘Oh, well,’ said Louisa, aware of regret that he hadn’t come to see her for any other reason than that of filling in the waiting days. She added lamely, ‘There are some splendid walks here.’

  ‘Good. You must show them to me.’

  They were beginning to climb the first gentle slopes. ‘You’re not going to stay here?’

  Louisa speaking her mind again, reflected the doctor, and he said easily, ‘Well, I have had quite a lot of driving; I could do with a couple of days using my legs instead of the car. Besides, Bellow needs a good run...’

  ‘Bellow? He’s here? With you? Where is he, then?’

  She had stopped, looking anxious.

  ‘He’s at the hotel. Quite happy, I assure you. He had a good walk this morning and now he’s resting his elderly bones on my bed. Tomorrow we’ll have a ramble along the loch—take sandwiches.’ He added with just the right amount of casualness, ‘Come with us, if you like; he’ll be delighted to see you again.’

  ‘Well, yes, I’d like to see him, too. And Lucky—how is he? Will he really grow into a fine cat?’

  He smiled. ‘Perhaps not as fine as Dr Johnson’s Hodge, but he’s doing his best.’

  He glanced sideways at Louisa, walking beside him, matching her steps to his. Odds and ends of hair had broken free from her topknot, her cheeks were a healthy pink, her bare arms were faintly tanned and she was quite unconscious of her appearance. Helena, he reflected, would have worn an elegant sun hat to protect her make-up and a dress which needed care and attention, and she would have worn the kind of sandals which would have been useless on this rough grass. But then, Helena wouldn’t have come in the first place, would she?