Death of a Gentle Lady - M. C. Beaton [61]
Hamish gloomily paid up. The visit to London had made a hole in his dwindling bank balance. He bought groceries and then decided to take the presents for his mother over to Rogart and spend the day there.
He did not return until the early evening, feeling relaxed and comfortable and full of good food. He wondered how Priscilla would cope with being Lady Macbeth. It was quite a big part to learn.
Waves were mounting on the sea loch and the wind screamed and roared through the blackness of the long northern night.
* * *
The following morning, he took out the present he had bought for Priscilla and went up to the Tommel Castle Hotel.
He found Priscilla in her room, walking up and down, rehearsing her script. She broke off when she saw him.
‘You’re supposed to knock, Hamish.’
‘You never knock at the station. I’ve a present for you.’ He handed her the wood carving.
‘This is beautiful. Where did you get it?’
‘Up in Grianach. You should take a run up there and buy some stuff for the hotel gift shop. They have grand tweeds as well.’
‘I might go over tomorrow. Care to come with me?’
‘Fine. I’m not welcome there and was told not to come back, but if you buy stuff, they won’t mind seeing me again. How’s the play going?’
‘I wish I’d never started. I keep reminding myself it’s not the Royal Shakespeare Company.’
‘You’ll be fine. Thon Irishman has left?’
‘Yes.’ A slight look of guilt appeared in Priscilla’s blue eyes. She felt she had led Patrick on only to show one highland constable who had jilted her that she was attractive to other men. She had found it quite difficult to persuade Patrick to leave.
‘Are you sure you want to go tomorrow?’ asked Hamish. ‘Surely you’ll be rehearsing like mad.’
‘I’ll be glad to get away from here for a bit.’
‘Why?’
‘Why, why, why. Always the copper. If I work hard on the script today and put it all out of my mind tomorrow, then I’ll do better than if I worried and worried. Come at nine. I’ll get us a picnic lunch.’
The following morning, before Hamish arrived, Priscilla was just finishing her breakfast when she was joined by Harold Jury. ‘We’ve got a hard day’s work ahead of us,’ he said. ‘I’ll drive you down to the village hall for the final rehearsal.’
‘I won’t be there,’ said Priscilla. ‘I’m going off for a picnic with Hamish and I’m going to put the whole thing out of my mind until this evening.’
‘You can’t do that. I am the producer and I am ordering you to be at the hall!’
Priscilla stood up. She wavered. Then Harold put an arm around her waist and said softly. ‘I know you fancy me, darling, and that’s what’s making you nervous. Once this play’s over, we’ll have fun.’
‘I’ve never encouraged you,’ said Priscilla.
‘Oh, yes you have. I saw you trying to make me jealous by flirting with that Irishman.’
‘Get this straight,’ said Priscilla, her eyes like chips of ice. ‘I’ve never fancied you, nor will I ever.’
‘You’re nothing but a prick tease.’
‘And you’re nothing but a prick,’ said Priscilla. ‘Get yourself another Lady Macbeth.’
She headed for the door. He caught her arm and twisted her round, his eyes blazing. ‘You can’t do this to me!’
Mr Johnson appeared flanked by the chef, Clarry, who was wielding a meat cleaver.
‘Miss Halburton-Smythe,’ said Mr Johnson, ‘I believe Hamish is waiting for you.’
Harold released her, his face flaming with rage.
‘What’s up?’ asked Hamish as he climbed into the passenger seat of Priscilla’s car after lifting Sonsie and Lugs into the back.
‘I’m not going to be playing Lady Macbeth,’ said Priscilla. ‘Harold ordered me to stay for the rehearsal today.’
‘You can see his point,’ said Hamish awkwardly. ‘Or was there anything else?’
‘Yes, he got frisky.’
‘Oh, dear. Then who is going to play Lady Macbeth?’
‘Angela has been understudying.’
‘Poor Angela.’
‘Hamish, I have just endured a rather nasty scene. Don’t mention that damn play again!’
The day was blustery but fine as Priscilla negotiated the zigzag road down to Grianach.
‘It’s beautiful, Hamish.