Chapter 9

For Victor and Angela the week passed in a blur. They walked locally, drove to Skye, saw great waterfalls, impressive mountains, and walked round some and up some others – the mountains not the waterfalls. They drove through the wild wilderness that is the west coast. Above all they walked in all weathers, enjoying the sun and the driving rain equally.

Much of the time they walked in silence: such walks are strenuous. They chatted over those wonderful packed lunches, and on the car journeys. Neither could remember when they began to hold hands. It must have begun as they helped one another over streams and through bogs, but it carried on when they walked to and from the car or from the car into the hotel.

Victor remembered when Angela tucked her arm in his and pressed herself against him for the first time. He did not resist or pull away, indeed he took her hand and pulled her arm further through his, so they were closer still. So they became the third couple at the hotel, at least until the miserable couple left. The smile on Bridget McLeod’s face broadened as she watched them.

They talked. Or rather Angela talked and Victor listened and occasionally responded. She talked about Neil and how much she loved him, how she ached for him, how angry she was at his so-called friend who effectively killed him and then put it down to an accident, rather than his own foolishness.

She talked about being unable to forgive the man, even though he had been badly injured, being on the same side of the car as Neil. She talked about the men who wanted her, and thanks to his gentle questioning gradually began to accept that some at least wanted to help her, and were not using the situation to further their own lust.

She talked about how hard it was to get up each morning and go to work, about how angry it made her that everyone’s life had carried on as if Neill had never lived. She talked of her guilt that she’d not sat on the right of the car instead of the left, and he suggested that this was guilt that she had survived the accident and he had not.

She asked if he’d seen that sort of guilt in the army.

He nodded. “Often,” was all he said, but she could see there were deep feelings there.

She cried a lot and Victor was not embarrassed but patiently allowed her to revisit her grief again and again and her acute sense of having been cheated out of their life together. He often held her in his arms as she sobbed, and she told him she felt comforted.

It was on the seventh day that Victor spoke his own thoughts about her life, her feelings and her bereavement. He had listened and supported her, but felt that he could now push her a little.

“Angela,” he ventured as she came to the end of another reminiscence about Neill, “It’s only six months since he died. What you are doing now is good. When you go home, warn your friends that you will be working through your grief by boring them with your stories about Neill, and then bore them! It will take quite a time for you to work through it.

“This empty feeling will be with you for a long time, but believe me it will become less and less intense. There will always be a gap in your life into which Neill should have fitted, but you will be able to concentrate on the good times you had together.

“If you want advice, be very careful about getting into another relationship with anyone for at least another year. Don’t fall in love with someone while you still feel so unhappy, it will probably lead to disaster. Rely on friends, but don’t get serious. If someone you fancy wants to get serious, explain the situation and cool it.

“You’ll know when you’re able to start living your life again. Remember, life is all about letting go. I had to let go of good mates who were killed in the army and I have to let go of my sister.

You will be able to let Neill go in time, though you will always love him. You have talked about your religious beliefs. So you know that he has moved on. Perhaps after death the dead person has to go through a grieving process as well, before they can let go and move on.

“Angela, take your time. Don’t rush things.”

Angela nodded. “Will you give me your address; phone number? I think I’ll need you in the coming months.”

“Of course. I’d be honoured.”

On the eighth night, as they came to say goodnight once again outside Victor’s room, things changed. Over the days they had said goodnight at the same place – Victor’s door – and for some nights Angela had kissed his cheek and he hers.

On the eighth night they had been for a long, very wet hike locally and were both very tired. They simply smiled with satisfaction at one another, and Angela took both his hands in both of hers and pulled him closer.

They kissed on the lips. It was brief and very tender. Then Victor leaned forward and kissed her again. It was not so brief, but it was again very tender, and very, very gentle.

They hugged each other, and Angela whispered, “Tomorrow is my wedding anniversary. I needed that kiss.”

Victor said nothing, but hugged her again and kissed her once more. They both smiled warmly as Angela walked away, looking over her shoulder with great fondness, and he stood as if bereft until she had entered her room and was out of sight, when he unlocked his own door and went to bed.

Victor was up early the next morning, and had driven to the village and back before breakfast. He was sitting at ‘their’ table when she came down for breakfast. In her place there was an envelope. Nothing was said as she opened it. It was a card with flowers on the outside and Victor’s handwriting on the inside.

It was signed, Love, Victor.

The tears came freely, but she smiled though them at him, and he thought he saw real love for him in her eyes.

“I’m not crying for Neil, I’m crying because you are so thoughtful.”

At lunch, after a gentle drive round the coast road, Angela broke the silence.

“I’m still thinking about your card and what you wrote, Victor. It repeats what you said the day before yesterday when you suggested it might not be time to move on, and of course you’re right.

“I’m going back home tomorrow. I can face things now, and there is someone who’s been hovering in the background waiting for me to finish grieving. He’s not made a move, but he was my first boyfriend. We were too young then, but now he might support me without getting too intense...”

Her voice trailed off and she smiled.

“And he hasn’t been thinking with his prick?” Victor asked mischievously.

Angela punched his arm. “You’ll not let me forget that, will you? But now you’ve mentioned it, I want to ask you something.”

“Ask away.”

“I’m embarrassed to ask this, but tonight ... Will you stay with me? I need you tonight on this day of all days. Does that sound silly?”

“No. Of course I’ll do whatever you want me to.”

“Victor let’s be clear. I want to sleep with you.”

Victor put his arm round her and she leaned into him. Then they kissed as gently as the night before but at much greater length.

When they disengaged, Victor asked, “You don’t have to make love, you know. You can just snuggle up. I don’t want you to feel you have to–”

“Victor,” she interrupted, “I’m a young woman and I’ve not had sex for six months. If we go to bed together, it’ll be as friends, but I rather think I’ll want more than hugs and cuddles.”

“Angela, I’m a man. I’ll be delighted to go as far as you want! And I’m thinking with my upper brain here!”

She rolled her eyes, they laughed and it was settled.

Victor had told Bridget about Angela’s bereavement and her anniversary, and when they came down to dinner, their table was laid with a white linen cloth and napkins, silver cutlery, flowers and a candle. There was a card from Bridget and James. It was a sympathy card. Angela, needless to say, burst into tears, but was smiling through it. The young couple came over and said how sorry they were, and Angela told them to appreciate and care for each other when the honeymoon was over.

“You don’t know what fate has in store for you,” she added.

The dinner was superb and they ate in relative silence. Angela was alone with her thoughts and Victor knew better than to interrupt her.

She in her turn was grateful for his thoughtfulness, and spent the time remembering the wedding and how happy they were. A few tears were gently shed, but she felt at peace in a way she hadn’t since the accident.