Page 35

R ose stood irresolute in her front doorway.

She hadn’t once left Simon at full-moon since he’d come home.

Not that there was any reason why there should be an issue.

Simon was sedated until morning; the radio would cover any odd noises and there were snacks for Sky to eat while she sat at Simon’s side, including some mealworms from the pet shop.

And more to the point, Andrew was there to telephone if necessary, even if Sky was enduring his presence like a suspicious cat.

‘I’ll be back before midnight,’ said Rose. No one was listening but she still couldn’t bring herself to close the door.

The air was hot. A light breeze fluttered the hem of her long dress and the silk scarf across her shoulders. Moonlight was so bright that the soft pinks and reds of her outfit made her feel as if she was standing in a shower of roses.

She suddenly realised Rob was on the pavement watching with his head on one side. He was doubtless wondering what was making her hesitate, since the cello was already in his car. After a while, he came up the drive.

‘You needn’t be nervous,’ he said. ‘Just enjoy yourself. That’s all anyone asks of the band at a ceilidh. And once we’ve got them softened up, we play the new stuff.’

‘It’s not just stage-fright,’ said Rose, her finger still on the catch. She could just make out the undertone of Sky singing while the radio announcer burbled.

‘Sounds like you’ve got two stations trying to get through.’

‘Oh - yes it does, doesn’t it.’

‘I’m sure Simon can sort it out.’

‘It’s just that he’s really not too well. I’m worried about leaving him.’

‘He’ll be fine,’ said Rob. ‘Besides, isn’t Sky here? Can’t she look after him? The woman with the dog.’

The door slipped from Rose’s hand. It slammed and she jumped. ‘I didn’t know you knew about Sky. ’

‘I didn’t see her at first,’ said Rob, as they walked to the car.

‘I just saw the dog arrive, a sort of German shepherd, wandering round the back of your place. Then a while later, I saw Sky looking out of your window. Guessed she was the girlfriend Simon had told me about in the pub the other night.’

‘I hadn’t realised he’d mentioned her.’

‘Uh-huh. But he should tell her to be careful letting her dog roam. Especially one that looks like a wolf. All the same, she’s a grown-up. I’m sure she can watch over Simon.’

Rose muttered.

‘And that other bloke’s here isn’t he? Your friend.’

‘Do you mean Andrew? Simon’s doctor? Yes, he is. But all the same, it’s the first time I’ve left Simon when he’s ill.’

‘Come on Rose, he’ll be fine. And we’ll be late if we don’t move. Although, if you want to spend time with the doctor instead…’

‘What on earth for? He hasn’t come to see me.’

‘Really?’ Rob sounded dubious as he opened the driver’s door.

Rose suddenly laughed, was he jealous? It was a ridiculous thought but made her pulse throb anyway. She touched her hair to make sure it was behaving as she climbed into the car.

‘Trust me, I’m not Andrew Ford’s type. I’m really not. He looks on me as some kind of nurse or maybe a sister, a friend.’

‘Uh-huh.’

They chatted about current affairs as they drove into town. Underneath the small-talk, Rose remained uneasy. She had to dislodge the feeling.

Rob was right, Andrew was there and Simon would be fine. Perhaps she was just nervous about performing after all this time, although that was ridiculous. She’d played concert halls which had seemed bigger than the whole of Kirkglen.

Rose realised she’d lapsed into silence.

She’d been half-way through a sentence when her thoughts took over and couldn’t recall what they’d been discussing.

Rob didn’t seem bothered either way, although there was a smile playing round his mouth.

The safest thing was to change the subject. ‘Who goes to the ceilidhs?’

‘Everyone just about. Grans to bairns, minister to coven.’

‘Coven?’

‘Och you know what I mean: the Guild. All those busy busy women. And all the other folk. You’ll enjoy it. Throw yourself into it, and with any luck, you can dance too. ’

‘How, if we’re playing?’

‘There’ll be a way. You still seem anxious. You’re a great cellist, Rose and we love you being in the band. Don’t be so doubtful.’ He turned to smile and reached his hand out as if to clasp hers. She felt herself flush at the thought. Then he changed gear. You are not thirteen she told herself.

‘Thanks. I’m sure I’ll be fine.

‘What is it really?’

Rose heaved a sigh, the scarf sliding off her shoulders and breast, the light breeze coming through the window ruffling her hair. ‘I don’t know. Simon’s illness is … it’s not getting any better. Andrew is working on research but… and Sky is….’

‘She eh - I know it’s hard to tell from across the street, but she looks a little out of the loop.’

‘She’s further out of the loop than you can begin to imagine.’

Rob chuckled.

‘Those symbols unnerved me a bit too,’ said Rose. ‘I know it’s irrational, but then performers can be a bit superstitious, and this is my first public performance in the best part of eight years.’

‘Have faith in yourself. Take a break from worrying for a couple of hours. Maybe things’ll feel less overwhelming then… Here we are. Just enjoy yourself.’

The rest of the band was waiting for them.

Inside the hall, people were setting things up, laying tables with food, moving chairs, putting the finishing touches to decorations.

The room was already hot, and the fire-escape doors had been opened to let some air in.

Light streamed from outside, the northern summer sun still lingering in the western sky and the full-moon casting everything into sharp contrast. But all the same, lamps and fairy-lights had been strung round the hall.

Rob nodded towards a sound system playing folk music.

‘Told you, we’ll get a break from playing and get a chance to join in. ’

‘I can’t remember the last time I danced anywhere,’ said Rose. She tuned her cello and scanned the expanse of hall.

One of the women and two of the men turned at the sound of her bow across the strings. They smiled and gave her the thumbs up. Rose put her scarf in the cello case. Her shoulders and throat felt very bare. She ran her tongue over her lips and felt the smooth lipstick.

Don’t rub your eyes and smudge your make-up.

The beat of her heart was increasing. Excusing herself, she went off stage while the others prepared and rang Andrew’s mobile.

‘Everything’s fine,’ he said. ‘I’m getting to know Sky and we’re watching the fort.

Stop fussing and enjoy yourself for once.

Simon told me you were going to a dance or something.

Just let your hair down. Sky says you put blood on your lips and dirt on your eyes.

I hope you know what she’s talking about. You looked fine to me.’

Rose went back onto the stage and settled down.

It was time to tune up as a band, time to get the sound levels right.

People were drifting in, the ones determined not to miss a drop of music.

She recognised some from round about. There was Lena, there was Alicia, there was the butcher, the nice girl from the garage.

Shame Sam was away. This is where we live, thought Rose, one day it might be home.

Perhaps. She caught Rob’s eyes and smiled.

He winked. She laughed and winked back and they plunged into the first number.

Rose’s hair had started to come down, one strand had fallen over her face and other strands stuck to her neck and shoulders.

Eyes closed, she was only vaguely aware of it, conscious only of her music working with the others’: the rhythm of the bodhran , the vibrations from Patrick’s tapping foot and the sound of the dancers’ feet thumping in time.

She half-heard shrieks and laughs, the hollers, the caller’s instructions; but she too melded with the cello, working with it to extemporise and wind around the folk tunes.

And the music wove in and threaded through her thoughts till she felt as if the musicians and dancers might no longer be dancing in a 1930s utilitarian hall but in a dark long-house, rush-lights illuminating glimpses of the figures spinning and whirling and stamping.

Or maybe they were outside, lit only by the setting sun and silver moon, heather crushed under the bare feet, the cries of the dancers echoed by wolves in the forest… .

The song ended and Rose opened her eyes.

She felt a catch of excitement and pure joy.

She had forgotten how good performing was.

She could have played till she dropped, until when she opened her eyes she found herself in another time or out of reality, on the moor under the moon, crushing heather under her feet.

This was the point where Rob said they would have a break.

The dancers, standing about where they’d finished, some panting, some fanning their faces, clapped and cheered. Rose looked over the sea of faces and grinned .

The band put their instruments down and stood to take a bow. Rose’s dress was sticking to her back.

Someone with a mic reminded everyone about the food then started playing recorded music on the sound system. The dancing became less organised and the floor less full.

Rose went to check herself in the rest-room mirror. She tutted. The eye make-up had run a little, the lipstick was gone and her hair was all over the place.

She wiped off the worst of the smeared mascara and combed out her hair with her fingers.

It was too hot, so she wove it into a fat plait and threw it over her shoulder where she couldn’t see what a mess it was.

She was still boiling. Being careful around her eyes, Rose washed her face and neck and looked at herself again.

There was something different, but she wasn’t sure what, perhaps it was being in the country, rather than in a city.

Her skin must have tanned a little. But it wasn’t just colouring, it was…