Northern Sunset. PENNY JORDAN

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СКАЧАТЬ Magnus himself has no animosity. It’s getting out of all proportion, Cat. I know you’re bitter, and I can understand why. Don’t you think it doesn’t break me up inside too when I see Magnus and remember how he was? But assisting him to hide from the world isn’t going to help him in the long run. He’s ready to start on the road to recovery, I’m sure of it. Okay, he might never be able to go back to his old job, but the mere fact that he hasn’t refused to have these men on Falla must tell you something.”

      “It tells me that he puts everyone else before himself,” Catriona protested stubbornly, tears suddenly filming her eyes as she laid her head on Mac’s shoulder.

      “Oh, Mac, when he said they could come, I was so surprised, so full of hope, but the moment I mentioned the geologists he retreated again. He couldn’t stand having them in the house—I just know it!”

      “And I think you’re underestimating him, Cat. It won’t do any harm to give it a try, and it could do a hell of a lot of good. Just listening to them talk might help break through the barriers.”

      “He’ll never agree to it.”

      “Then don’t tell him,” Mac retorted with a promptness that told Catriona that he had been prepared for her question. “Simply present him with a fait accompli. I wouldn’t advise it, if I didn’t think it was in his best interests, Cat,” he told her soberly, and Catriona knew that he meant it. He wasn’t just their doctor, he was also a close and caring friend, and yet having these people in the house wasn’t just totally opposed to her own personal views, it was also tantamount to stabbing her brother in the back with a very sharp knife.

      “Fiona’s coming to stay with me over Christmas,” Mac added casually. “She’s a wee bit hurt that Magnus continues to ignore her letters.”

      Fiona MacDonald was Mac’s niece, a nurse in a large Edinburgh hospital with a sensible outlook on life, and Catriona liked her. During their teens Fiona and Magnus had been very close and had kept in contact right up until the time of Magnus’s accident, since when he had refused point-blank to write to her. “I don’t want her pity,” was all he had said in response to Catriona’s query. “Let her keep that for her patients.”

      Now a sudden thought struck her.

      “Mac, were Fiona and Magnus ever romantically involved?” she asked curiously.

      Mac shook his head.

      “I don’t know, my dear, but if they were don’t you think that’s their business? The trouble with those two is that they’re both givers, and givers seldom have the ability to take what they want from life.”

      Unlike her nocturnal room-mate, Catriona thought suddenly, dismayed that she should have thought of him. But having done so, she could not deny that he was most definitely not a “giver”. No, he was quite plainly a man who took what he wanted from life.

      When she had seen Mac safely on board the yaol, she turned back to the Land Rover, but instead of driving straight home she stopped by the ancient keep of the old castle and climbed out. The tower had been a favourite haunt of her childhood. The weathered walls were still high enough to offer some shelter from the wind and often she had lain within their protective shelter, peering out to sea through the wind-tossed flowers. It was here that she had come when they brought the news about her parents and here that Magnus had found her, comforting her without a word being spoken.

      Was Mac wrong when he claimed that the geologists’ presence in their home might break through Magnus’s prison walls? She knew she could not afford to take the chance that he might be, and with a heart heavy with bitter resentment she walked back to the Land Rover.

      She might be forced to welcome these intruders for her brother’s sake, but for herself she would continue to hate them. Not one of the men with whom Magnus had worked had made any attempt to get in touch with him since his accident; no one from United Oil had taken the trouble to come out to Falla and see him, and although Catriona would never have admitted it to her brother she was desperately afraid that when he claimed that his old companions would despise and denigrate him now, he was speaking the truth. Oilmen were hard men, without emotion or compassion, and now they were going to invade their sanctuary and spread God alone knew what havoc among them.

      A FORTNIGHT WENT BY without any response to Magnus’s letter, and then a severe storm prevented the mail boat from calling, and Catriona had almost begun to think that the whole thing had blown over.

      With gales blowing Mac had been unable to call, although he had spoken to them by telephone. Since her return to the island Catriona had never ceased to be grateful to her parents for installing this luxury.

      “Any news about the terminal?” he enquired when he had assured himself that they were both well.

      “Don’t remind me of it,” Catriona begged. “I keep hoping it will all go away.”

      Mac laughed. Catriona was covered in cobwebs. She had been cleaning out the bedrooms, unearthing linen sheets from cupboards mercifully free of damp and moth. The house had been furnished long before the days of such things as central heating, when women knew how to store and cherish good linen.

      Although there had been no further word from the oil company about the terminal, Catriona did not intend to be caught off guard if they did decide to go ahead.

       CHAPTER THREE

      THEY were another week closer to Christmas and enjoying a brief spell of relatively mild weather. The Shetlands, although not enjoying hot summers, did not experience unduly cold winters, only the wind changed, from playfulness to fierce intensity.

      Catriona had been washing sheets, taking advantage of the brief daylight to get them dry and keeping an eye on them from the kitchen window. It wasn’t unusual for Shetlanders to lose their washing to the sea when the wind came up, and she had no intention of letting that happen, not after having gone to all the trouble of doing it.

      Magnus was in the library. Catriona heard the telephone ring and guessed that it was Mac. Magnus seemed morose later when she went in with the cup of coffee she had made him, and when her light attempts at conversation all went ignored, she retreated quietly as she had learned to do when these moods held him.

      Her back was aching from cleaning floors covered in dust and washing windows that hadn’t been touched in years. If she was going to be forced to endure the presence of these oilmen she wasn’t going to give them the opportunity to criticise their lodgings. She had half expected Magnus to query her busyness, but he didn’t even seem to be aware of it.

      She had made a Christmas cake—a luxury she had permitted them because she knew that Magnus loved it—and as she lifted it out of the oven to cool she remembered that they were getting low on peat. The crofters had cut them a fresh pile—enough to last them through the winter and it was duly drying, but Catriona could not carry it down to the outhouse by herself and she was reluctant to task Magnus to help. The storms sometimes washed wood up on to the beaches, and tempted by the thought of a brisk walk she called Russet, and pulled on a shabby anorak which had once belonged to Magnus but which she now kept in the kitchen for winter forays to feed the hens and collect their eggs.

      The sky was completely clear, but no Shetlander would have been deceived. They knew all too well how quickly a storm could blow up, seemingly out of nowhere.

      She headed for a beach relatively close to the house where she СКАЧАТЬ