âWell, arenât you going to ask me if I had a pleasant weekend?â
âI did want to,â she told him spiritedly, âbut I didnât feel like being snubbed.â
He moved very fast; he was beside her almost before she had finished speaking. She hadnât bargained for it and he was far too near for her peace of mind, and that peace was wholly shattered when he kissed her quite fiercely on her mouth, all without saying a word. He was back in the hall again while she was still blinking over it.
âIâm going to have something to eat,â he then told her in a perfectly ordinary voice.
THE LOFT WAS warm, dusty and redolent of apples; the autumn sunshine peeping through its one dusty window tinted the odds and ends hanging on the walls with golden light, so that the strings of onions, cast-off skates, old raincoats, lengths of rope, worn-out leather straps and an old hat or two had acquired a gilded patina. Most of the bare floor was taken up with orderly rows of apples, arranged according to their kind, but there was still space enough left for the girl sitting in the centre, a half-eaten apple in one hand, the other buried in the old hat box beside her. She was a pretty girl, with light brown hair and large hazel eyes, extravagantly lashed and heavily browed, and with a straight nose above a generous, nicely curved mouth. She was wearing slacks and a thick, shabby sweater, and her hair, tied back none too tidily, hung down her back almost to her waist.
She bit into her apple and then bent over the box, and its occupant, a cat of plebeian appearance, paused in her round-the-clock washing of four kittens to lick the hand instead. The girl smiled and took another bite of apple, then turned to look behind her, to where a ladder led down to the disused stable below. She knew the footsteps climbing it and sighed to herself; holidays were lovely after the bustle and orderly precision of the ward in the big Edinburgh hospital where she was a Sister; the cosy homeliness of the manse where her parents and five brothers and sisters lived in the tiny village on the northernmost coast of Scotland, was bliss, it was only a pity that on this particular weekâs holiday, both her elder brothers, James and Donald, should be away from home, leaving Henry, the youngest and only eight years old, recovering from chickenpox, with no one to amuse him but herself. She doted on him, but they had been fishing all the morning, and after lunch had been cleared away she had gone to the loft for an hourâs peace before getting the tea, and now here he was again, no doubt with some boyish scheme or other which would probably entail climbing trees or walking miles looking for seashells.
His untidy head appeared at the top of the ladder. âI knew youâd be here, Eleanor,â he said in a satisfied voice. âThereâs something I must tell youâitâs most exciting.â
âMargaretâs home early from school?â
He gave her a scornful look, still standing some way down the ladder so that only his head was visible. âThatâs not excitingâshe comes home from school every dayâbesides, sheâs only my sister.â
Eleanor trimmed the core of her apple with her nice white teeth. âIâm your sister, Henry.â
âBut youâre oldâ¦â
She nodded cheerfully. âIndeed I am, getting on for twenty-five, my dear. Tell me the exciting news.â
âSomeoneâs comeâMotherâs invited him to tea.â
Eleanorâs eyebrows rose protestingly. âOld Mr MacKenzie? Not again?â
Her small brother drew a deep breath. âYouâll never guess.â
She reached over for another apple. âNot in a thousand yearsâyouâd better tell me before I die of curiosity.â
âItâs Fulk van Hensum.â
âFulk? Him? Whatâs he here for? Itâs twenty yearsâ¦â She turned her back on her brother, took a bite of apple and said with her mouth full: âTell Mother that I canât possibly comeâI donât want to waste time talking to him; he was a horrid boy and I daresay heâs grown into a horrid man. He pulled my hairâ¦nasty arrogant type, Iâve never forgotten him.â