Caroline #2
Duty was a word thrust onto women far too often. It was women’s duty to dedicate their lives to their families, to be good, uncomplaining wives, to stand in the background and let their husbands or the other men in their lives make the big decisions.
Caroline knew that her sense of duty had kept her inside her marriage, yielding to Frank, leaving the finances and decisions to him.
Yet how could she let a man who was bad with money, unable to keep his job and a dreadful father run her life?
If she had to stay with him, she owed it to herself and Annabel to stand up to him.
Only it had become so ingrained – so much easier – to go along with him that she knew she wouldn’t have the energy and nerve to go up against him.
Would she ever be able to do so?
Her eyes glazed over as she looked out into the golden sunset, the great shadows of the Highlands lengthening across the valley, and a kind of peace came over her, the peace of being away from him.
Whatever the reality of her life in London, she had these few days in this distant heaven to dip her toe into the realm of dreams.
NEVER HAVING BEEN ON a royal visit, Caroline was surprised to find herself given a large bedroom at the end of the servants’ quarters, evidently reserved for senior staff members.
Like the queen’s room, it was simply furnished and decorated with tartan, and she quickly unpacked her few belongings.
How uncomplicated everything suddenly seemed, the essence of life in a room, a small suitcase, an evening ahead of her, and a chance she might see Angus.
With a quick look at herself in the mirror, she brushed herself down and went to find the staff dining room.
But as she made her way down the back stairs, plunging into the gothic basement, the chambers of servants past, her appetite seemed to vanish.
Did Angus know she was coming?
Would he be happy to see her there?
As she opened the door to the dining hall, the bright lights and noise spilled out, people chattering loudly in the great high-ceilinged room. The flickering glow of a large fireplace came from one end, the smell of roasting meat hearty and bold.
A long table ran the length of the room, with smaller tables dotted around the edge. Uniformed maids and footmen mingled with porters and cooks, grooms and chauffeurs.
Caroline scoured the room for Angus, but he didn’t appear to be there.
‘Come and sit with me.’ Mrs Campbell hurried across the room, leading her to one of the smaller tables.
Soon, a kitchen maid served them steaming plates of roast venison with mashed potatoes and vegetables.
‘Do all the staff eat here?’ Caroline asked.
‘Those who live here do. Most of us who live outside the castle go home for the evening when the queen isn’t here.’ She watched as Caroline looked around the room. ‘Do you know someone who works here?’
Blushing, Caroline focused on her food. ‘Just a few people, and not awfully well.’
‘Well, I’m assuming one of them is the head gardener.’
Flustered, Caroline dropped her knife, and it clattered onto her plate. ‘How do you know?’
The woman chuckled. ‘He’s just come in, and he’s looking straight at you.’
Caroline gasped as she saw Angus, who was now coming towards them, a great smile on his face as he pulled out the spare chair beside her.
‘I wasn’t sure if I saw correctly,’ he said, sitting down. ‘But it is you, isn’t it?’
‘Miss MacDonald won’t be here until the day after tomorrow, so I’m filling in for her.’ She focused on cutting her venison, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘It’s lovely to see Balmoral after hearing so much about it.’
He smiled. ‘Do you have time for a tour of the grounds tomorrow? I can show you the town, too.’
‘The queen is shooting until midafternoon, but I wouldn’t want to be a bother—’ Caroline began, but Angus cut her off.
‘It’s no trouble at all. I’ve organized the garden work for the day, and the foreman can look after the men. Why don’t I pick you up at ten by the service entrance?’
One of the porters had come to speak to Mrs Campbell, and she got to her feet. ‘I’m afraid I have to leave. There are always unforeseeable problems at the start of every visit.’
With a cheerio, she bustled away.
And Caroline found herself alone at the table with Angus.
The room was emptying, the servants heading back to work for a few hours before bed, preparing for the busy day ahead.
From the kitchen, she could hear the cooks barking orders as they prepared the full picnic lunch for the queen’s shooting party.
There was to be a large evening event, too, with a dance.
She looked up and caught him watching her.
‘I can hardly believe you’re here. I wasn’t sure I’d get to see you again.’ He kept his voice casual, as if they were just friends, but his eyes glowed with intimacy. ‘How’s Annabel?’
‘She begged me to pack her into one of the queen’s trunks and put her on the train.’ Laughing, she felt herself unwind. ‘She’s staying with Betty and Miranda, so she’s probably busy trying on lipstick and high heels as we speak.’
‘She’ll miss seeing the horses here. We have a pregnant mare who’s about to give birth, and I’m sure she’d adore to see a wee foal.’ He shrugged. ‘We could go and see them tomorrow, if you’d like?’
As she was about to reply, Caroline spotted someone getting up to leave, glaring straight at them.
‘Oh no,’ she whispered.
‘What is it?’
‘It’s Miss Driscoll. She had her eye on becoming the next assistant dresser, so it was awkward when the position was given to me.’ She felt herself cower under Driscoll’s gaze. ‘If she sees us together, it’ll be all over the palace, and before I know it, she’ll have pieced it all together.’
But Angus just shrugged, his eyes on hers.
‘Let them think what they want. No one could possibly have any proof. In any case, I’m sure you earned your position, didn’t you?
You’d be the best dresser there is.’ Buoyed by his faith in her, she remembered Frank’s disbelief that she’d been offered the job, while being annoyed that her new salary wouldn’t be enough.
Against all reason, Miss Driscoll wove around the other tables to theirs, taking one of the empty seats. ‘Caroline, what brings you here?’
As Caroline explained how she was there for two nights, Miss Driscoll appraised Angus. There was mud on his dark-brown trousers, flecks of soil on his fawn shirt, and his khaki coat hung from the back of his chair.
‘Why don’t you introduce me to your friend?’ she said, a wry smile on her thin lips.
Before Caroline could speak, Angus put a hand forward. ‘Angus Buchannon, head gardener. I was leading the team down in Buckingham Palace last month.’
‘Is that how you two know each other?’ Her eyes went from one to the other.
Pulling her chair away from his, Caroline stumbled over her words. ‘Yes, but we also . . . I mean, Mr Buchannon worked at the palace during the war, so he remembered me from then.’
Miss Driscoll smirked. ‘A little reunion, how lovely!’
‘And what brings you to Balmoral?’ Angus asked, leaning back in his chair as if all were fine with the world.
With a haughty look, she said, ‘There are extra duties, it being so close to the coronation.’
The conversation limped on until Miss Driscoll took her leave, although not without carefully eyeing Caroline as she pushed in her chair. ‘I’ll see you very soon, no doubt.’
Caroline watched her depart. ‘Let’s hope this doesn’t get back to the palace.’
But Angus was smiling at her, pushing his own chair out to leave. ‘You can’t let yourself worry about it. In any case, I have just the thing to cheer up your evening. Come along!’ He grinned, taking her coat from the back of her chair and holding it for her to put on. ‘We don’t want to be late.’
Outside the servants’ entrance, he led her to his car, an old Land Rover.
‘Where are we going?’ Caroline looked over her shoulder. ‘You don’t think Miss Driscoll will see us, do you?’
Holding the door open for her, Angus shook his head. ‘Just for this one night, forget about the palace. Enjoy yourself like you used to do.’ He looked into her eyes. ‘I know the old you is still inside. Why don’t you let it out?’
‘You’re incorrigible, Angus Buchannon,’ she said, shaking her head and laughing as she climbed inside.
‘I promise to return you before eleven, so until then, we’ll forget about our worries and live in the moment.’
Soon they were weaving through the narrow streets in Ballater. As he pulled up to the pub, the lights and music spilled into the street, and a thrill of excitement rushed through Caroline.
They opened the door and jaunty Scottish music enticed them into the warmth; she let Angus grab her hand and pull her into the crowd.
‘We’re lucky,’ he said. ‘The local band’s practising for the cèilidh at the castle tomorrow night.’ He grinned. ‘And we’re the beneficiaries.’
The old pub was heaving. The tables had been cleared from a back area to make a dance floor, the old floorboards vibrating as twenty or thirty people jigged with gusto to the spirited sound.
The band, dominated by an energetic old accordion player, was in full swing at one end, the crowd surrounding them clapping and dancing.
Without asking, Angus helped her off with her coat and pulled her into the throng.
And suddenly, she found herself dancing, something she hadn’t done for years.
Little by little, she remembered the steps Angus had shown her all those years ago, skipping one foot in front of the other, twisting in and around each other.
He grinned appreciatively, the crowd roaring with cheers as the song came to an end.
Next came a Scottish reel, the men and women separating into different streams around her.
Quickly, she followed suit, standing opposite Angus, hands on hips in readiness.
Confusion reigned as she watched the woman in front of her turning, one hand in the air, as she grasped her partner around the waist. Laughing, Caroline muddled through, delighted that she’d almost mastered it by the end.
Suddenly, the music picked up, louder and faster, and another reel began. This one was a rush of whirls, and she danced as if it were her last night of freedom. Exhilarated, a great smile spread over her face, and she caught Angus’s eyes and couldn’t help but laugh with the sheer joy of it.
The music whirled and twisted, the beat rhythmic as they spun weaving and looping around other couples, linking arms, forming chains that whizzed across the room with an ever-increasing recklessness, knocking over chairs, winding through the tables, the music louder and louder until it finally came to an end, everyone collapsing onto chairs and even the floor with elated exhaustion.
As the crowd began to quieten, the lone sound of an accordion eased them into a slow dance. Couples found each other, men asked women to dance, and Angus turned to Caroline. ‘Would you care to join me?’
The ballad began, soulful in its simplicity, lifting, repeating, then blending into a heartfelt refrain.
With a hand around her waist and the other holding her hand, Angus swayed as they turned slowly around, the other couples melting into the background.
The sensation of being so close to him and yet held inches apart was almost unbearable.
The warmth of his body, the scent of him, made her long to pull herself against him.
But every time she felt the passion, she chastised herself.
She was a married woman. How dare she be close to another man? Even by dancing with Angus, she was breaking a code of behaviour that had been driven into her since she was a girl.
The dance came to an end, and while part of her was relieved, another part longed to hold on to him, and she let her fingers linger on his as the crowd began to clap.
Wordlessly, he watched her carefully, as if reaching inside to ask a question, find out some kind of truth.
And she found herself looking away, unable to let him see what was so painfully clear to her: that she’d never stopped loving him.
Taking her hand, Angus led the way out of the dance area to the large backroom bar. There, he found a small table and pulled out a chair for her. A single candle in a bottle had almost burned down to the quick, throwing a flickering glow over the space.
He left to go to the bar and returned with some kind of cocktail.
‘What is it?’ she asked, laughing as she dipped her head to smell. And straightaway she knew. ‘You remembered!’ She took a sip of the heady mixture. ‘Pink gin!’
‘How could I forget,’ he said, clinking her glass with his whisky. ‘It’s your favourite.’
‘It was my favourite.’ She laughed. ‘I haven’t been out for years now.’ She raised her glass to his. ‘Thank you, and cheers, to the good ol’ days.’
They both took a sip, the taste of the drink bitter and potent, reminding her of a different era. ‘Do you remember the last hop we went to before you left for the front? I think that was the last time I went dancing, until now.’
He put his hand across as if to touch hers, but then stopped short, inches away, and she pulled her hand back so that she wouldn’t be tempted to reach for his. It was so natural, spending time with him, being together – even though she hadn’t seen him for over a decade.
‘Funny, you haven’t changed in all this time.’ She smiled at him.
‘Nor have you,’ he said, and a matching smile grew over his face.
‘Those were the days, weren’t they? I thought we’d be young and together forever.
But for now, at least we have today.’ And as she loosened under his spell, she felt herself rewinding time, the dismal years with Frank falling into the shadows, forgetting reality for this one single evening of bliss.