His voice was beautiful – not just the Scottish accent, but the depth of his voice – and he was a fine-looking man with strong features, reminding her a little of the actor Liam Neeson.
‘She told me you had a climbing accident. I’m so sorry,’ she said, walking over towards him to shake his hand. ‘Thank you for agreeing to see me, it is a bit of an imposition.’
‘Not at all.’ He smiled warmly and he shook her hand very firmly. ‘What man wouldn’t like a visit from a bonny lassie? And what can I do for you?’
‘My mother died earlier this year and amongst her things I found a painting of Janet’s cottage. I believe Mum rented it for a while in 1969. I am trying to find out more about that period in her life. As you would’ve been her landlord then, I wonder if you remember her. Her name then was Flora Foyle.’
The reaction to her mother’s name was instantaneous. A light came into his blue eyes, and his mouth curved into a smile.
‘Flora! Aye, I do remember her, Eva, very well. She rented the cottage for going on for a year. Do sit down, I hate looking up at people.’
Eva took the sofa opposite his chair. She explained about the diaries and said she believed her mother was depressed when she was here.
‘I have to say that none of us really recognized depression back then,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘People might refer to someone as “having trouble with their nerves”. But as I recall, no one realized it was an illness. As for Flora, I liked her a great deal. She was one of the most interesting women I’d met at that time. With hindsight, perhaps she was depressed. But at the time I thought of her as fragile, moody and temperamental. I was aware there was something troubling her, but I never did discover what that was. I never heard from her again after she left here.’
‘She mentions someone called “G” in her diaries. Was that you?’
‘Probably, I saw quite a lot of her. May I know what she said?’
‘All nice things,’ Eva assured him. ‘Nothing personal, you understand – hiking, camping, dinner with you.’
He smiled. ‘Well, that’s disappointing. Flora and I used to talk for hours, I told her stuff I’d never told anyone before. I would’ve quite liked to be reminded of it all again now.’
‘She did say you were a soulmate,’ Eva said with a smile. ‘That’s a pretty good thing to say about someone, isn’t it?’
‘Aye, that it is.’ He grinned. ‘I’d have preferred “devilishly handsome, irresistible, with the mind of a rocket scientist”. But I have found we rarely get what we wish for.’
Eva laughed. She liked his warmth and lack of pomposity; she had expected a man who had lost the use of his legs to be bitter and difficult. ‘Did Flora reciprocate with confessions, soul-searching or anything about her past?’ she asked. ‘You see, she never did to me. I didn’t know she’d been a successful artist. I don’t even know anything about her parents, or her childhood.’
‘She didn’t tell you about her parents?’
Eva felt his surprise at this. ‘No, nothing. Aside from her growing up in Cornwall.’
‘I can’t imagine why she kept that back from you – she mentioned them quite often to me. But maybe that was because I admitted that my late father was overbearing and often cruel. Anyway, she told me she felt suffocated by her parents. Her mother had two stillbirths before Flora was born. But instead of being joyful at finally getting a longed-for healthy baby, she spent her whole time fretting about everything. Flora said she didn’t like her playing with other children in case she “caught” something from them. She wasn’t allowed to go to the beach alone because she might fall on rocks or drown –’
Gregor broke off there, and laughed.
‘Flora used to make me laugh with these stories, Eva. It sounded like being kept in a very clean and tidy prison. She said her mother had an obsession with germs, she scrubbed things until her hands were red raw. Nowadays that might be diagnosed as OCD, but back then she was probably thought of as a bit barmy. Anyway, Flora ran away to London when she was sixteen. She said she couldn’t take all the rules any more. I did wonder whether that was what made her become so bohemian, so resentful of any kind of authority. I can’t believe she didn’t tell you that too!’
Eva shook her head. ‘Not a word. Did she tell you about Patrick O’Donnell?’
He frowned. ‘No. Who was he?’
Eva told him a little about Patrick and the baby they’d lost, and how Eva had found him. ‘He was with Mum for a long time. She left him living in the studio she had in London, where I live now. Fancy her never mentioning him!’
‘She didn’t tell me any of that, except that she had a studio which she was renting out. I assumed that was why she didn’t need to find a job here. But I did suspect there had been a broken love affair, and that something bad had happened to her. Sometimes she would stay in bed all day, refusing to answer the door, or be seen roaming around late at night. But though I tried to get to the bottom of it, she just brushed off my questions. She had a thing she used to say …’ Gregor frowned and hesitated, as if he was trying to recall the exact words, ‘it was, “Don’t allow yourself to feel jealous or angry about my past or former loves, because who I am now, whatever it is you like about me, is the result of the experiences I had with other people, and the influences they had on me.’’’
Eva thought about that for a moment. She had never heard Flora say it, but yet her voice was in the words.
‘That’s actually a profound bit of advice,’ she admitted, ‘and very typical of Mum. She had a stock of meaningful phrases she could trot out when needed. But I can’t help but be cynical and think she said that one to prevent you probing into her past. Can I ask a personal question, Gregor? Were you lovers?’
She knew when he hesitated that they had been.
‘“Lovers” suggests a lot more than we shared,’ he said eventually. ‘I was in love with her, but if she felt the same about me, she never said. We did sleep together, but just for a short while. And I think she regretted it, because it compromised her.’
‘Why? She was free, you are an attractive man and must have been a very eligible bachelor.’
‘I suspect she had a fear of commitment. I think she wanted a purely platonic friendship.’ He sighed. ‘I didn’t of course. Do men ever want that?’
‘Not often,’ Eva replied, and laughed nervously. She was very afraid she was going to discover her mother might have used this kind, attractive and sensitive man as merely a sperm donor.
‘Can you remember how long Flora was living in Pitlochry?’ she asked. ‘You see, her diary has no dates, and I’m trying to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.’
‘I know she arrived here in the spring of 1969. She remarked on the primroses coming up in the garden of the cottage, so that would’ve been late March. She loved gardening, but then you’d know that. She brought the one at the cottage back to life. As for when she left, the last time I saw her was Christmas of 1969. I went away to the Highlands for Hogmanay, and stayed right through till March. She’d gone when I got back. No one could say exactly when she left, as she hadn’t been seen around for some time. But I think I only missed her by a few days, because she’d left bread and other stuff in the cottage and it was still reasonably fresh.’
‘But I was born on the 26th of April, 1970!’ Eva gasped.
Gregor blanched. He looked so shocked that Eva was afraid he might become ill.
‘I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have blurted that out like that,’ she said. ‘Didn’t you know she was pregnant?’
‘But she can’t have been.’ His voice had risen slightly, and the words came out like a protest. ‘I was with her at Christmas and she was as slender as you are. If she was pregnant, someone would’ve noticed it before she left Pitlochry.’
Eva could hear the anguish in his voice and saw it in his eyes too. She realized in that moment that he really had loved Flora. To be told that she had either got pregnant by someone else while he was seeing her, or she h
ad deliberately deprived him of his own child, was like a dagger through his heart.
‘Thick winter clothes can hide a lot,’ Eva said. ‘I am so sorry, Gregor, to give you such a shock. But it seems to me that you could be my father.’
Chapter Fourteen
‘It couldn’t be me, Eva. Well, not unless you were very premature,’ Gregor said, making a gesture of finality with his hands. ‘There was nothing physical between us until late September.’
Eva made a rapid calculation in her head and found that she must have been conceived in July 1969. She had no doubt Gregor was telling the truth; like Patrick, he looked a bit sad that he hadn’t gained a grown-up daughter.
‘I feel really bad and pretty stupid, assuming that,’ she said glumly. ‘There must have been another man in her life before you,’ she said.
‘Don’t worry on my account. I’m a big boy now, and it was a long time ago.’ He shrugged. ‘Obviously there must have been, but she never said anything – not so much as a hint. But he can’t have been from around here, as the jungle drums would’ve been beating loud and clear.’
‘She mentions someone with the initial “D” quite a few times. She said something about feeling she was being analysed.’
His expression lightened. ‘That would be Dena Deeds,’ he said. ‘She was just another hippy who turned up here on a quest for salvation, but she claims to have psychic powers these days.’
Eva smiled at his description of the woman. ‘She and Flora were friends?’
‘That’s debatable. They spent a lot of time together when Flora first arrived – understandably, as they were both on their own, and both oddballs. Flora told me she found it comforting to be around someone who had more hang-ups than she did. Back then, Dena was into astrology in a big way. She’d do people’s charts and analyse them on the strength of it. I know she told Flora that the only way she would be happy was to “surrender” herself to a man and normality.’
Eva laughed and Gregor joined in. ‘Flora and I laughed about that a lot,’ he said. ‘Dena had no idea what “normal” was, and Flora certainly wasn’t the kind to surrender to anyone.’
‘Yet she did,’ Eva said thoughtfully. ‘That’s exactly what she did do. She met and married very normal Andrew, gave up painting, surrendered everything she’d been before in order to fit in with his ideals.’
‘You are joking?’ His red eyebrows shot up in disbelief. ‘That’s as unlikely as hearing the Pope has signed a pact with the Devil!’
‘I’m entirely serious,’ Eva insisted. ‘Her change of character and lifestyle is all part of this mystery surrounding her.’ She went on to explain a little about her mother’s life during the years with Andrew.
‘So maybe Dena isn’t barking, as I’ve always believed,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘Maybe you should go and see her? She’s got a room above a shop in the main street. She tells fortunes for the tourists.’
Grace came back with a tray of tea and shortbread for them. Gregor introduced them, explaining that Eva was Flora Foyle’s daughter.
‘Oh aye, I remember her so well.’ Grace’s face lit up at the memory. ‘I adored her, she was so outrageous. She wore a wonderful emerald-green velvet cloak and lacy long dresses. I was at that stage you go through in your teens when you rebel against everything, especially living in a little town in the middle of Scotland. Flora convinced me it was actually pretty cool to live here. I even hoped she and Gregor would get married.’
‘That was never on the cards,’ Gregor snapped.
Grace made a face at her elder brother and flounced out of the room. Eva sensed that Gregor was prone to putting his sister in her place and that, if they hadn’t had company, Grace would have retaliated.
Eva poured the tea. ‘I understand Grace lives here with her family,’ she said. She thought Gregor was lucky to have a sister who was prepared to look after him, and he ought to be nicer to her.
‘Yes, she does. Her husband was here too originally, but they got divorced a couple of years ago. She’s got two boys, Cameron and Brett. They are having a holiday in France with their father at the moment. But they’ll be back next week.’
There was so much more she wanted to ask Gregor – not just about Flora, but about his life too. But she felt she had intruded enough for one day, and she felt bad at shocking him with the news that Flora had left this town pregnant. How could Flora have kept that from him when she’d called him her soulmate? Why would she go hiking and camping with Gregor when she was already seeing another man? Even worse was that she embarked on an affair with him later, knowing full well she was pregnant.
Eva had been intending to tell Gregor about Flora taking her own life, but she couldn’t bring herself to tell him anything else upsetting. So she kept the conversation to lighter subjects, asking him about what places she should visit, and if she could come and see him again in a day or two.
‘I’d like that,’ he said with a warm smile. ‘Why don’t you come and have dinner with me tomorrow? Grace will be very relieved to wriggle out of sitting with me all evening. Go and see Dena, then we can laugh about whatever she tells you.’
On the way back to the hotel Eva spotted Dena’s sign on a street door next to a gift shop in the main street: ‘Madame Dena Psychic. Tarot, Astrology and I Ching’. The sign said ‘By appointment only’, so as soon as she reached the hotel she rang the number and arranged to see Dena at eleven the following morning.
Back in her room, she felt both excited that she’d discovered so much today, but also sad. She had really liked Gregor and thought it was wonderful that he’d retained his sense of humour even when life had been so cruel to him. But her sadness wasn’t so much because of that, or because he wasn’t her father, but rather because her mother had been so devious and secretive.
What else was she going to uncover about her?
She really hoped this Dena woman might have something more uplifting to tell her.
At eight that evening, before going down to the Chinese Restaurant to get a takeaway, she rang Phil. He was really pleased to hear from her, and wanted to know every last thing she’d done since leaving London.
She gave him a brief synopsis, and he laughed about her having an appointment with a fortune-teller in the morning.
‘I’m not going to tell her who I am,’ Eva said. ‘Well, not until after she’s done her thing. I’m looking forward to it.’
‘Well, if she tells you there’s a tall dark man coming by train to meet you soon, you’ll know she does have powers,’ he said. ‘I think I should be able to get there on Saturday.’
Eva gave a little squeal of pleasure.
Phil laughed. ‘I thought you might do the “I vant to be alone” thing,’ he said in a Marlene Dietrich voice.
‘Of course I don’t. I’m thrilled,’ she said eagerly. ‘There’s a station in Pitlochry,’ she added, and gave him the hotel telephone number. She told him to ring and leave a message to say what time the train got in, so she could meet him at the station.
Eva found it hard not to burst into laughter when she arrived for her appointment with Madame Dena the next day. The whole room was festooned with purple and lilac cheap nylon material. It was held in place on the ceiling by a Moroccan-style lantern, then fell in swathes down to what was probably a picture rail, before dropping down to the floor. It bore a passing resemblance to something from The Arabian Nights, and was not what anyone would expect in a small Scottish town.
Dena sat at a small card table, and she was wearing an orange and purple Indian-style long jacket with a high collar, with a purple turban around her head fastened with an amber brooch. Maybe if she’d worn Indian-style trousers beneath the jacket she could have carried it off, but she was wearing jeans, and a pair of brown bedroom slippers.
Gregor had said she was in her fifties, but in fairness she didn’t look it. Her face was virtually unlined, with a clear complexion. She was almost beautiful, with high cheekbones and very dark eyes like melted chocolate,
but her nose was a little too big. A strand of hair escaping from the turban was dyed black, but Eva thought she might have been born with black hair because of the darkness of her eyes.
She beckoned Eva in. ‘Come in, my dear, sit down and make yourself comfortable.’ Her voice was odd too, as if she’d trained herself to speak in that low, husky way and had ironed out any kind of accent.
Eva sat down and the woman took her hands, holding them very lightly while looking intently at her. Eva felt uncomfortable being under such deep scrutiny and wondered what else she was in for.
‘A tarot reading is right for you,’ Dena said after a few moments. She picked up the deck of cards and handed them to Eva. ‘Shuffle them well,’ she ordered. ‘And as you shuffle, think hard on the questions you want answers for today.’
Eva shuffled them extremely well, continuing to do so even when Dena looked as if she wanted to take the cards from her. She played along with the game, silently asking who her father was, and where she should take her search from here.
Dena held the stack of cards to her lips for a moment or two, then cut the pile, discarding one half. She did this again and then laid the top card down on the table, face up.
Eva had been expecting traditional tarot pictures, but instead she was startled to see a picture of a snake. It was a beautiful picture, the colours bright as jewels, but she instinctively knew a snake was not a good image.
‘Betrayal, dishonesty and guile,’ Dena intoned, placing it in the centre of the table. The next card was of an ox, in equally vivid colours. ‘Hardworking, strength, lacking in ambition,’ she said and placed it to the side of the snake card.
A monkey came next, which meant mischief, speed and agility. There was an eagle, which the woman said represented the enemy. She went on until she had nine different animal cards in a circle around the snake.
She looked hard at Eva again, then spent a few moments staring at the cards before her.