Chapter 9: October Half-Term Holiday

Kate had got dressed up for her visit to the Kilcreggan café. She was wearing knee-length white boots and a pleated skirt so short that only the tablecloths preserved her modesty when she sat down. On top she had a sleeveless vest with thin straps on her shoulders; she had a cardigan draped over the outfit with the sleeves hanging loose. The effect could have been tarty but for her vitality and the innocent joy with which she reacted to the staff and other customers.

She was now sitting in the passenger seat of my car, looking straight ahead. Jon was still leaning forward with a hand on her shoulders, and she had put her hands up to cover his, pushing the cardigan off. She had skipped excitedly out of the café a vibrantly beautiful girl on the very verge of womanhood; now I was aware of her thin thighs and little, waif-like arms.

I reached past her to open the glove compartment, taking out a box of tissues that I laid on her lap. I was about to close the little door when I remembered that there was a paper sack that had been transferred to each new car since Donald grew out of carsickness when he was about four. After I closed the compartment, I pulled out a handful of tissues and began cleaning the tears and snot from Kate’s face.

Her eyes were red and swollen with tears although she had stopped crying. The rational part of my mind insisted that the dark blotches on the delicate skin below her eyes were the result of mascara, but I had the fancy that they were visible signs of the bruising to her soul. She took the tissues from my hand, glancing at me as she did so.

If her eyes were bad, the lower half of her face was worse. She was breathing through her mouth; her nose was red and swollen and it was clearly blocked by mucus. When the snot was removed, I could see the raw marks left by it running over her upper lip.

Kate continued to wipe her ravaged face while I sat, twisted round towards her, still with my seatbelt fastened, collecting sodden tissues in Don’s sick-bag. The only sound in the car was an occasional metallic click as the engine cooled. I was becoming conscious of the enormity of what I had done.

Almost twenty years before these kids had watched their parents die in a horrific accident on the very stretch of road that I had driven them through. I was utterly ashamed of myself – how could I have been so insensitive? Then Jon twisted the knife that was already killing me:

“It’s the first time we’ve been back.”

I would not have recognised the voice as Jon’s, but I was looking at Kate and he was the only other person in the car. Normally both he and his sister have wonderfully musical voices but now he was choked with tears, so he sounded gravelly. I looked at him for the first time since we came to a halt and silently offered him a handful of tissues: his face was almost as damaged by grief as his sister’s.

I have no idea how long we sat there after that. Jon had his left hand on Kate’s shoulder, and she was clutching it with her own, so tightly that I could see the knuckles whitening. I felt like a brute beast for the pain I had inflicted on two young people who had surely suffered enough before I blundered into their lives.

“I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry!” was all I managed.

“It’s not your fault,” Jon replied at once.

It was only when Kate handed me a tissue that I became aware that tears were dripping off my chin. She gave me a somewhat watery smile:

“We planned it, Fergus. Can you forgive us?”

Her voice sounded just like her brother’s, with the same gravelly timbre. They took turns explaining what had happened, but I was looking at my hands and I could not clearly distinguish who said what.

“We were going to drive past the spot on Kate’s sixteenth birthday.”

“But Doctor Willis died before she reached it and there was no one else until you came along, Fergus.”

“We don’t trust anyone else.”

“Jon wanted to warn you, but I swore him to secrecy.”

“It was to be a test of your trust in us.”

“We didn’t mean to hurt you,” they concluded in chorus.

“So that’s what you were planning outside the café.”

“That was only the final details,” Jon told me, in a voice much closer to his ordinary tones. “We decided that day we took you up to our secret place.”

“On the way back to the house, we talked it over,” Kate took up the tale. “Anya said you thought you’d offended us because we walked away from you, but it was because we really liked you, you see.”

“I’m deeply touched by the honour you have done me by trusting me so completely, but I wish you were still sixteen.”

I paused while they both gave me a puzzled look.

“At that age I’d have been able to put you over my knee and smack your bottoms for putting me through that!”

Even that poor joke was enough to dissipate the last of the tension. I offered to take them over the hill and back to Kilcreggan but they only had to glance at each other before Kate rejected the offer.

“We want to go on,” she said, with something of the old excitement in her voice. “Today has been hanging over our heads for so many years and we want to celebrate. You’ve taken such a weight of our shoulders that I may wake up tomorrow six inches taller!”

So, we drove on, through Helensburgh, across the Erskine Bridge to the airport hotel and as we journeyed the siblings took turns in telling me what had happened to them between the fateful day when they became orphans and my meeting with them at the Retreat almost three weeks before.

Doctor Willis had orchestrated their lives from the moment he emerged from the wreckage of their parents’ car with baby Kate in his arms. We giggled together at the thought of him proposing to the receptionist he hated simply so he would be qualified to adopt the youngsters. We shared his anguish when he found that it would not be possible to foster them with one family.

I marvelled at his resilience and persistence. Having failed to convince the central authorities, he took his case to the individuals closest to the children. He convinced the two foster families to encourage Jon and Kate to stay in contact with each other. Right from the outset they had a meal each week together, at one of the foster homes. When it came time for Kate to go to school, it was the Doc who persuaded the authorities to let her join her brother although she lived in the catchment area of another school.

When he moved to secondary school, Jon rushed to the gates of the primary every day to walk his sister home. The foster families played their part to the full, inviting the other sibling to join family holidays and excursions. When Jon reached sixteen, it was the Doc who arranged for him to board with Kate’s fosterers. Their friend and mentor died suddenly, just weeks before Kate’s sixteenth birthday, leaving everything to his two protégées.

They were planning to occupy Lethington, the house he left them, but they were approached by Anya and offered the job of housemaid and caretaker at the Retreat. She told them that she had been married to their grandfather and had been out of the country when their parents died or else she would have sought to adopt them. She had heard of their musical talent and proposed that they rent out their house, saving the money it earned to launch their singing career.

“I jumped at the idea,” Jon admitted. “Kate has always been impulsive, and I was dreading the fights I knew we’d have if we moved into the house together. With Anya’s help she has waited.”

“You see now why today was so important,” Kate added, with all her normal enthusiasm. “That was the last obstacle: we have enough money and I’ve faced my demons, so we’re ready for fame and fortune.”

They looked at each other, before Kate gave her brother a nod, reaching over at the same time to touch my hand on the steering wheel.

“We’ll understand if you feel it’s too much to ask,” he began, diffidently. “You’ve done so much for us already, but this is really, really important for both of us.”

“I’ve done very little for you and I feel I owe you for what I put you through earlier. Spit it out, Jon – I might say ‘no’ but you can’t know that until you ask.”

“We want you to be our manager,” Kate interrupted. “Sorry Jon but I thought you two were never going to get to the point.”

‘There is a tide in the affairs of men, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune’. So says Shakespeare and who am I to argue with the Bard, but my life seems to be more like a river system. I float along on a gentle current for ages, and then I encounter rapids and broken water, but then a moment like this arrives when two streams come together to strengthen me, renewing my faith in my fellow man – or some of them, at least.

Alison had berated me for my lack of empathy with her brother’s wish to become a musician. It had been in the back of my mind to look at ways in which I could be of some practical value to my son and his friends, Ray and Michael. Rightly or wrongly, I judged the music business to harbour a few unsavoury characters, and I had considered how to save Doh from harm. Now Kate and Jon were inviting me to be their manager.

Could my business experience act as a worthwhile firewall between the sheep and the wolves? One thing for sure was that if I could manage Jon and Kate then I could manage Doh, Ray, Me. I certainly had the time and the motivation; all I lacked at present was any vestige of skill.

“You have yourselves a deal,” I told them, to be greeted by whops of excitement as much from Jon as from his sister, I was relieved to note.

I tried to calm them down by detailing all the difficulties I anticipated but they were still buzzing as I parked the car beside the hotel. There was a significant delay while Kate repaired the ravages to her face, ignoring the loving but pointed remarks by her brother. On impulse, I booked them a room each, telling them that we were going to make a night of it since we had so much to celebrate.

“I can’t go anywhere dressed like this,” Kate complained, so we walked across to the terminal, where I pushed them into a boutique and treated them to new outfits.

“My first duty as a manager,” I assured them when they demurred at the expense. “I have to turn you into a saleable product. I might have you dressed as a shepherdess with Jon as Pan.”

My mum used to say of days like this that there would be tears by bedtime. We were all too excited and the fever showed no signs of abating. We were dining in the hotel, and we were busy with our starters when I asked about their relationships with their foster families. They both spoke with enthusiasm but made it clear that the relationship was based on friendship rather than family feelings. They get together every so often, usually dropping in on their way to or from the cash and carry.

“We get on pretty well with our foster brothers and sisters,” Kate mused, chasing a spring onion around an otherwise empty plate. “As a matter of fact, Eddie wants to have a word with you.”

“That’s it, Kate!” Jon hissed at her. “We agreed not to push Fergus any further, but you always have to have your way.”

“I didn’t promise, and I was only saying that we got on well with the families.”

I tapped my knife against my plate and waited until they turned towards me.

“I can’t be bothered with tiresome children.”

Jon dropped his eyes and looked at his plate, but Kate opened her mouth to reply.

“Shut up Kate,” I forestalled her. “Your charm isn’t as potent as you imagine, as I’ll explain on another occasion. This is a good time to tell you both that there will be no more secrets if you want to keep my friendship.”

“You don’t understand,” Kate wailed. “I’ve waited five years, always having to put my plans, my dreams away because it’s not the right time. Well, I’m fed up with it.”

“We seem to be in agreement,” I told her. “It’s time to get things done but there can be no secret agendas. If you have a dream share it and then we can decide how to make it a reality.”

I had been talking to Kate but now I turned to her brother.

“And you’ve got to tell her what’s unrealistic instead of trying to cover up in front of others. You can’t go on letting her hide behind you when things get tough.”

They were looking intently at each other but there was a pause while the waiter delivered our main courses.

“You’d better tell him, Jon.”

“No, you’d better tell me, Kate. Leave your brother out of it.”

At this stage, I thought we were still talking about her foster brother. I sensed that the siblings were holding something back, but I had forgotten what Anya had let slip, so Kate’s confession came as a complete surprise.

“Jenny asked us to perform at her exhibition in November and I said we would.”

She watched my face intently before she added: “I’ll tell her we can’t do it if you want.”

I picked up my knife and fork, telling them to eat the food before it got cold. I needed a little time to process what Kate had just said. I admit that my immediate response was blind rage, but I swallowed my bile and forced my mind to work rationally. I concentrated on the request for the kids to perform: it would give them wonderful exposure to an influential group of people. It would be vital to match the repertoire to the audience but my experience in the art world would be of value there.

There was recognition that it had been good of Jenny to give Jon and Kate this chance, but that thought was soon swallowed up by jealousy. It was no use telling myself that I was not at all sure if I wanted a love affair with Jenny: what was absolutely clear was that I did not want her to have an affair with Piers. I was realistic enough to understand that I might be attempting to keep a horse in the stable long after it had bolted.

In the end, I had to face the reality of the situation: I could hardly agree to be their manager in one breath and deny them an outstandingly good opportunity in the next. In an ideal world I would have had a day or two to mull over the options, but my clients were sitting on the edges of their seats with what little patience they could muster, awaiting my response.

“You were right to agree to the gig,” I finally managed to say, with every appearance of pleasure. “The conditions in the gallery will be different from what you’re used to, so we’ll have to work on the best programme.”

I explained that there would be a lot of chatter so instrumental pieces should be included. There was a lively discussion on music and instruments that lasted through to dessert. It was Jon who finally pointed out the elephant in the room.

“Will you be Ok talking to Jenny?” he asked me.

A surge of jealous rage consumed me, such as I have not felt since Rachel first moved in with Bill. Now as then, my mind was filled with highly graphic images of their coupling, Rachel with Bill, Jenny with Piers. Thought is instantaneous, of course, but it took time to master the strong feelings that were shaking me. Both Jon and Kate looked concerned when I replied with an apparent non sequitur.

“I’m really tired, kids,” I ground out, forcing a smile that probably looked like a grimace. “What with dancing with pensioners and then walking through the heather – twice – I’m knackered.”

I did not mention the tiring, sleepless night with Anya bracketed between the two hikes, nor the emotions involved then and again this morning when we passed the site of their horrific accident. I needed to be alone to let the jealousy burn itself out and to indulge the self-pity that I knew would follow.

My companions were as anxious to continue the day as I was to end it, so they decided to swim in the hotel’s pool. This necessitated another visit to the terminal to buy costumes. Jan wandered off on his own in the store, but Kate insisted that I stay with her to give a male perspective on her choice.

“What’s your earliest memory, Fergus?” she asked me across a rack of miniscule bikinis.

“My first reliable memory is a bit naughty,” I told her.

“That just proves you’re a man,” she laughed, holding up a scrap of cloth in Day-Glo green for my appraisal. “Why, ‘first reliable’ memory? What does that mean?”

My tiredness had resulted in me falling headfirst into a deep pit. How do you explain to a girl orphaned at four that my memories have been modified by the family stories surrounding the incidents? When mum has told the story a hundred times of how I slipped on the ice at the age of three and was unconscious for nearly a minute it certainly seems as if I actually remember the event.

I stood silently gaping at Kate across the rack of skimpy swimwear, while I thought of something to say, but fortunately her question was rhetorical.

“You see, I don’t remember anything before the crash. My first real memory is of a strange-smelling man holding me tightly. I know now that it was Doc Willis and that the smells were after-shave and pipe tobacco, but the memory is only of the strangeness and the safety I felt in his arms.”

By the time she had finished speaking I had rounded the rack and was holding her with her head on my chest. There were tears running down her face, but she was calm.

“I don’t remember anything at all about my Mummy and Daddy. Jon tells me things and I say that I remember but I don’t. I thought that driving past the spot today would jolt me so that the memories would come back. I think I got so upset because it did nothing – I didn’t feel any more or less sad than always.”

Jon had joined us by this time, and he took his sister from me into his arms while I paid for the hideous green bikini Kate had been clutching all this time. We walked back to the hotel with her sandwiched between us, arms around each other.

“I’m sorry about mentioning Eddie,” she whispered as we entered the lobby. “I know I’m asking more than you can give but I think I’ve been searching for you since the Doc left us.”

With that, she let go my arm, snatched the bag with the bikini from me and grabbed her brother by the hand.

“C’mon Jon! Let’s you and I make a bit of a splash around here!”

They skipped off together towards the swimming pool. I watched until they were out of sight, amazed at her resilience, before I took the lift to my room. She has spent all she can remember of her life putting a brave face on things, but it was impressive to see her in action.

I kicked off my shoes before I dropped, face-down on the bed. The jealousy was still simmering but now there was resentment at Kate’s insistent demands on me. Why do they always pick on me? was my last conscious thought before sleep claimed me.

I was sitting at breakfast next morning when I was hugged from behind and given a wet kiss on the cheek.

“I’ve a bone to pick with you,” Kate told me, coming round to sit across the table from me. “What was the idea buying me that horrible bikini? Thank God there was nobody else in the pool. At least it gave Jon a good laugh.”

Jon joined us a few minutes later and we chatted about inconsequential things before we went back to our rooms to pack. I thought that they had decided to say nothing further about the events of the previous day but, as we were driving through Cardross, Kate, leaning forward from the back seat asked why I had been so upset after we had driven past the site of the smash.

I explained, as best I could, that it was a mixture of guilt and compassion. I could see how much the return to the scene of the accident distressed her and I felt guilty because I was the instrument that took her to the area.

“That’s exactly what Jon said, except for the driving, but you know what I mean. Both of you were upset because I was upset, and I was only upset because passing that horrible place didn’t change anything. All those years I’ve dreaded what might happen when I went back, and nothing did happen.”

“I think I know what you mean,” Jon said, “But I’m pretty sure Shakespeare would have described it better.”

“Rabbie Burns would have made it into a song, and you could add it to your repertoire,” I added.

Kate giggled as she punched her brother and me. That was the last time we spoke of the matter although I know that they, like me, pondered it in their hearts, as the Bible says. Just to be on the safe side, I took the hill road to Kilcreggan avoiding the accident site. They both got out to recover the minibus, so I made my solitary way to the car park at Coulport before we all climbed into the all-terrain vehicle for the final bumpy ride to the Retreat. By then I was feeling churlish for the way I had cut Kate off when she wanted to talk about her foster brother.

The weather had finally turned wintery during the night and we drove back through constant rain with an occasional hint of sleet mixed in. We got back to the Retreat late on Saturday, Fifth of October and I spent the night in the room that had been Phil’s, since the farmhouse was the only place that was warm. Kate and Jon had their rooms at the other end of the upstairs landing.

The next two weeks were spent at the Retreat planning the future. Jon took the lead in devising a programme for Jenny’s exhibition. I was finally able to answer his question, deciding that I could bear to meet Jenny but not Piers. After some thought, I called Anya to ask if she would be our Roadie for the gig. She would liaise with Piers and would attend in person, representing Dochard Management, the name we had decided for my new position as musical impresario.

Kate and I spent much of our time doing detailed surveys of the house and chalets and she took the lead in searching the internet for sources and prices for the improvements that were needed. Anya would not talk directly to me since Rob was still being difficult, so it was left to Kate to keep the older woman in the loop. They had one meeting together when Rob landed with Anya to pick up Kate and take them to meet Mr Mason.

Kate reported the events of the day. Rob insisted on travelling with them to Glasgow, spending the entire journey reminding Anya of stories from the days when the Dochard Trio was a force to be reckoned with in the world of folk music. As soon as they left the terminus, Anya took Kate’s arm and dragged her into a beauty salon to have their hair and nails treated. Rob was left at the door looking bewildered but unsuspicious.

It transpired that Anya was more interested in the facts that Kate had gathered on the re-fitting of the Retreat than on her appearance. They sat in adjacent chairs and held a business meeting while being transformed into elegant swans.