‘Politics?’
‘I had ideas of changing the world,’ I admitted. ‘And anyway, I thought it might come in handy, somewhere. Everything’s political.’
He didn’t argue that. He only asked me, ‘Why not history?’
‘Well, again, I’d rather read it for enjoyment. Teachers always knock the life out of the subject, somehow.’ Then remembering what he did for a living, I tried softening that statement with, ‘Not all teachers, naturally, but—’
‘No, it’s no use now, you’ve said it.’ Leaning back, he studied me with obvious amusement. ‘I’ll try not to take offence.’
‘I didn’t mean—’
‘You’ll only dig yourself in deeper,’ was his warning.
‘Anyway, I never finished university.’
‘Why not?’
‘Because I finished my first novel first, and then it sold, and things just took off on their own after that. It bothers me sometimes that I didn’t get my degree, but on the other hand I really can’t complain,’ I said. ‘My writing has been good to me.’
‘Well, you’ve got talent.’
‘My reviews are mixed.’ Then I paused, because I realized what he’d said, and how he’d said it. ‘Why would you think I’ve got talent?’
I’d caught him. ‘I might have read one of your books this past week.’
‘Oh? Which one?’
He named the title. ‘I enjoyed it. You impressed me with the way you did your battle scenes.’
‘Well, thank you.’
‘And you obviously did a thorough job with all your research. Though I did think it was hard luck that the hero had to die.’
‘I know. I tried my best to make the ending happy, but that’s how it really happened, and I don’t like changing history.’ Fortunately, many of my readers had approved and had, according to their letters to me, wallowed in the tragic end, enjoying a good cry.
‘My mother would have loved your books,’ he said.
My hand still idle on the horse’s neck, I turned. ‘Has she been gone for long?’
‘She died when I was twenty-one.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Thank you. So am I. My dad’s been lost these fifteen years. He blames himself, I think.’
‘For what?’
‘She had a problem with her heart. He thinks he should have forced her to slow down.’ He smiled. ‘He might as well have tried to slow a whirlwind. She was always into everything, my mum.’
That must be where he got it from, his restlessness. He flipped the conversation back to me. ‘Are both your parents living?’
‘Yes. I have two sisters, too.’
‘They’re all still back in Canada?’
‘One sister’s in the States, and one’s in China, teaching English. My dad says it’s our Scottish blood that makes us want to travel.’
‘He may be right. Where’s home for you, then?’
‘I don’t really have one. I just go to where my books are set, and live there while I’m writing.’
‘Like a gypsy.’
‘Sort of.’
‘You must have some interesting adventures. Meet some interesting people.’
‘I do, sometimes.’ I could only hold his gaze a moment, then I turned away again to scratch round Tammie’s forelock. Tammie nudged me, flirting, and I said to Graham, ‘You were right, he is a ladies’ man.’
‘He is. He has a handsome face,’ he said, ‘and kens the way to use it.’ He was looking at the open door again, and at the rain that was still pelting down upon the hard-packed yard. ‘I think we’re out of luck the day, for touring.’
He was right, I knew, but I said nothing.
Truth be told, I wouldn’t have minded spending the rest of the day in this stable, with Graham and Angus for company. But he clearly wasn’t one to sit still for that long, so when he stood, I gave the horse a final pat and turned my collar up, and made the dash, reluctantly, back through the rain to where we’d parked the Vauxhall.
I did a better job, this time, of hiding how I felt. And it seemed hardly any time at all before we were surrounded by the houses and the shops of Cruden Bay, and then we’d reached the bottom of the path up to my cottage and he parked and came around to let me out. Shrugging off his coat, he held it overhead so that it shielded both of us, and said, ‘I’ll walk you up.’
He left Angus in the car, though, and I knew that meant that Graham didn’t plan on coming in. And that was fine, I thought, there was no reason for me to be disappointed. There’d be other times.