Northanger Abbey. Val McDermid

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СКАЧАТЬ It hadn’t exactly reassured Cat about what to expect.

      She sidled in, hoping there would be enough people in the hall for her to pass unnoticed. Luck was not her friend, however. There were fewer than two dozen potential dancers in the hall, mostly gathered in clumps of four or five, the young men nudging each other and horsing around, the women rolling their eyes or texting or gossiping with heads close together. Two or three older couples had gravitated to the far end of the room, where a woman of indeterminate age in a tartan skirt and white blouse, hair tied back with a tartan ribbon, stood frowning at a portable CD player. Cat presumed she was Fiona Alexander. She leaned against the wall and waited for something to happen.

      After a few minutes, Fiona clapped her hands for silence. The mutter of voices died away and she launched into her welcome speech, moving seamlessly on to a brief explanation of how the session would be run. ‘And so, ladies and gentlemen, please take your partners. We’re going to keep the same partners, and it’s generally easier if you work with someone you know already.’

      To Cat’s dismay, almost everyone seemed to be already paired up. Two other girls, both of whom she considered much prettier, and two young men were the odd ones out. They gravitated towards each other, leaving her stranded and terrified that she was going to have to dance with Fiona.

      She was saved by a young man thrusting open the double doors of the hall and skidding to a halt on the threshold, panting and dishevelled from running. He bowed low towards Fiona, his thick blond hair flopping forward over his forehead. ‘I’m so sorry, Fiona. I missed the bus and ran all the way from Bruntsfield. I think a bunch of old ladies thought I was a performance artist – they applauded me as I passed the coffee shop.’ He stood up crookedly, one hand pressed against his ribs.

      Fiona gave him a look of mock disapproval. ‘Come in, Henry. At least you’re here now. Which is just as well because this young lady here—’ she gestured towards Cat ‘—is without a partner.’ She smiled at Cat. ‘My dear, I presume you’re Catherine Morland? Susie Allen phoned earlier. This unpunctual reprobate is Henry Tilney, who helps me out with my classes. Henry, meet Catherine.’

      As he moved towards her, pushing his luxuriant honey-blond hair back from his brow, Cat had the chance properly to take stock of him. Henry was the right sort of tall – a shade under six feet, broad-shouldered but slim without being skinny, graceful rather than gawky. His eyebrows and lashes were much darker than his hair, and had it not been for his dark hazel eyes she might have suspected him of tinting them for effect. His forehead was broad and his cheekbones well defined on either side of a prominent nose that saved him from being too pretty for a man. His skin was pale and clear, unblemished by freckles. He didn’t have the confected good looks of a boy-band member but his face was compelling and memorable. Heroic, even, Cat allowed herself to think.

      He dipped his head in greeting. ‘Nice to meet you, Catherine. I promise you, it’s not as hard as it looks. I’ll be gentle with you.’

      When she looked back on that first meeting, Cat would wonder whether she should have been more wary of a man who began their acquaintance with such a blatant lie. For there was nothing gentle about what followed.

      After an hour of being whirled and birled, of Gay Gordons and Dashing White Sergeants, of pas de basques and dos-à-dos, they broke for refreshments. Cat was uncomfortably aware that she was sweating like an ill-conditioned pony and that Henry seemed positively cool by comparison. She expected him to peel away from her at the first opportunity, to make a bee-line for one of the tall blondes with the far-back vowels and hair bands, but he told her to stay put while he fetched her a drink.

      She collapsed gratefully on a bench till he returned with plastic tumblers of fizzy water. He sat down beside her, long legs in raspberry-coloured cords stretched in front of him and crossed at the ankle. ‘Phew,’ he sighed. ‘Fiona really does believe in putting us through our paces.’

      ‘Why are you here? You totally knew what you were doing, every step of the way.’

      ‘The Alexanders are neighbours of my father. Fiona mentioned that she was always short of competent men in her classes, so my father volunteered me. He likes to play the good neighbour. It stands him in good stead when he does something monstrous,’ he added, almost too softly for her to hear.

      Mysterious bad behaviour was naturally meat and drink to Cat. Now she was even keener to find out more about her intriguing dance partner. ‘Well, I’m glad he did,’ she said. ‘This would be a nightmare if I was partnered with someone as clueless as I am.’

      Henry gave her a wolfish grin, revealing small, sharp teeth. His eyes looked almost tawny in the afternoon light, like a lion stalking prey. ‘You’re welcome. But I’m failing in my Edinburgh duties,’ he said, straightening up and ticking off his questions on his fingers. ‘How long have you been in Edinburgh? Is this your first time? Do you prefer the Pleasance to the Assembly Rooms? What’s the best show you’ve seen so far? And have you eaten anywhere decent yet?’ He had a delicious accent; almost BBC, but with a hint of Scots in the vowels and the roll of the r.

      Cat giggled. ‘Is that the checklist?’

      ‘Absolutely. So, have you been in Edinburgh long?’ He gave her a wicked look.

      ‘Almost a week,’ she replied, stifling another giggle.

      ‘Really? Wow, that’s amazing.’

      ‘Why are you amazed?’

      He shrugged. ‘Somebody has to be. And are you an Edinburgh virgin? Is this your first time at the festival?’

      ‘It’s my first time north of the line between the Severn and the Trent,’ she confessed.

      Now he looked genuinely amazed. ‘You’ve never been north before? How on earth have you managed that?’

      Cat felt shame at her untravelled state. ‘I live in Dorset. We’ve never travelled much. My dad always says we’ve got everything on our doorstep – beaches, cliffs, woodland, green rolling hills. So there’s no need to go anywhere else.’

      Henry’s mouth twitched, whether in a smile or a sneer she couldn’t tell. ‘Dorset, eh? Well, I can see the temptation to stay put. But you must admit, Edinburgh’s pretty good fun. Worth the trip, wouldn’t you say?’

      Now she was on safer ground. ‘I love it,’ she said. ‘It’s beautiful. And there’s so much going on, it makes me dizzy just thinking about it.’

      ‘And have you been to the Assembly Rooms?’

      ‘Our first night we went to a comedy show. God, but it was packed.’

      Henry nodded. ‘Always is. Have you seen any theatre yet?’

      ‘We saw a wonderful play last night about coal mining. Dust. You should catch it if you can, it was very moving.’

      ‘I’ll add it to my list. What about music?’

      Cat shook her head. ‘The friends I’m with don’t really have the same taste in music as I have. But I’ve got a whole list of writers I want to see at the Book Festival. Honestly, Henry, this is the most exciting time I’ve ever had.’

      ‘More exciting than Dorset?’ He was teasing, she could tell.

      She laughed. ‘Almost.’

      ‘I had better work СКАЧАТЬ