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Kirsty lifted her skirts to run across the grass. The house had become oppressive. She needed to escape, and there was only one place to go. The gazebo stood at the end of the lawn, within sight of the house but far enough away to offer privacy. It had always been where Kirsty hid when she needed a quiet place to think; she longed for that now.
She sat, leaning her head against the wooden panels, and looked over at the distant river. A sailing ship drifted seawards on the outgoing tide, a whaler off to the Arctic, perhaps. She envied the men on board, able to go anywhere they wanted; they didn’t have to fight for their freedom.
From her vantage point, she could see most of Broughty Ferry. The streets, busy with passers-by, looking more like ants from this distance, horses pulling their carts, a few cars, and a train chuffing and puffing its way out of the station, bound for Dundee. It appeared to Kirsty that everyone in the world had more freedom than she did. She pressed her lips together in annoyance. It was time she asserted herself, but before that, she had to decide what to do about Ailsa.
Meggie’s words still echoed in her mind: ‘Kirsty’s bastard.’ It would tear her apart if that were how her daughter came to be known. But it would also break her heart to deny her.
A peacock strutted past the gazebo, stopping to fan out his tail-feathers in a colourful display of eyes. It reminded Kirsty of all the eyes that watched her and how many more there would be if the truth about Ailsa became known.
She couldn’t hurt her daughter. She would have to leave, maybe not now but some time in the future, when she was financially independent. She groaned. The money her parents gave her wasn’t enough for her to live on. If she were to survive on her own, she would have to find some way of earning it. But her father was right – there was nothing she was qualified to do.
In any case, the world frightened her. Everything she had ever done involved her family. How would she survive on her own? The peacock screeched. Even he was contemptuous of her ability to win independence, but she determined to assert herself and show them all. Her mouth pursed in a stubborn line. She could begin today and go to the meeting her father had forbidden her to attend. That, at least, would feel like a start. And, when the time came to leave home, she promised herself she would be ready.
The breeze ruffled her hair while she listened to the birds singing in the orchard behind her. The ship in the estuary was moving out of sight now, while the peacock had evidently decided she wasn’t worth bothering about and had moved to a different part of the garden.
Distant sounds, voices and hammering, impinged on the quiet of the afternoon. Strange men scurried about the lawn in front of the house, pulling and pushing at a massive red-and-white-striped, tented structure. Workmen hammered guy-ropes into the ground; it wouldn’t be long before the marquee took shape. It was the preparation for her mother’s garden party.
Kirsty’s mood plummeted. She should be there helping, but she couldn’t bring herself to do that. She didn’t even want to be in the house while the preparations were going on and she didn’t want to attend the party. A black cloud settled on her. She had to escape. Gathering up her skirts, she slipped out of the gazebo, around the side of the house, up to her bedroom for a wrap and what little money she had, and left without a backward glance.
* * *
ELLEN HAD NO TIME TO worry about Kirsty after the men turned up to erect the marquee.
‘We’ll have it at this end of the lawn,’ she had instructed, pointing out the preferred spot. A quick glance told her that Kirsty was still sitting in the gazebo, so she hurried inside to give cook instructions on how she wanted the tables laid out. Everything had to be ready before the guests appeared and she didn’t think she should ask Kirsty for help. The girl might have another outburst; Ellen shuddered at the thought.
Ailsa came running out of the door, her feet skimming across the grass until she crashed into Ellen’s skirts.
‘Mama, Mama!’ the child squealed, her eyes round with wonder. ‘Can I come to the party?’
‘Of course you can, my darling, but it doesn’t start until later.’ Ellen swung the child into her arms. ‘Come and watch the strong men putting up the tent. Isn’t it gay?’ She held Ailsa close to her as they looked at the red-and-white-striped canvas tent, Ellen with critical eyes while Ailsa’s grew even rounder.
‘Will there be ice-cream, Mama? And cakes and jelly and sweets?’
‘All that and more.’
Meggie panted her way towards them.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘the little minx ran away from me.’ She held out her arms for Ailsa. ‘Come on, we have to get you cleaned up.’
‘Not dirty.’ Ailsa wriggled.
‘Yes, my love, but what about your pretty dress? The one your mama bought for you. Don’t you want to wear that?’
Ellen watched them return to the house before she continued with her inspection. Once that was done, she would join Kirsty for a short time so they could chat.
She strode towards the gazebo, but Kirsty was no longer there. Neither was she in the orchard nor any other part of the garden. A tiny pang of fear fluttered in Ellen’s breast and she tried to fight it down. Kirsty must be in the house, there was nowhere else she could be. Still, the niggle was there. Kirsty had been strange today, talking about freedom and being cooped up here with nothing to do.
‘Meggie will know where she is,’ Ellen muttered aloud.
But Meggie hadn’t seen Kirsty. Together, they searched the house but there was no sign of her.
‘Where do you think she can be?’ Ellen wailed. ‘She couldn’t have left home. Where would she go?’
‘She’s probably just gone to the town,’ Meggie soothed. ‘She wasn’t looking forward to the party, and she said something about a meeting today.’
‘But her father forbade her to attend it.’ Ellen’s voice held a tone of horror.
‘In the mood she was in,’ Meggie said, ‘that’s probably the reason she’s gone. Don’t worry about her. She’ll be back.’
‘I suppose you’re right.’ Ellen twisted her handkerchief between her hands. ‘What on earth am I going to tell her father?’
‘She’ll probably be back home before he is, so don’t concern yourself too much,’ Meggie said. ‘Let’s just concentrate on the party.’