Phipps, you know.’
‘You mean, she’s illegitimate,’ gasped Alice. ‘How splendid. I’d like to throw that in her face.’
‘Don’t, for God’s sake,’ said Jeremy harshly. ‘She’d bite back like a viper.’
‘But you said she’s got no power.’
‘Hasn’t any power,’ corrected Jeremy automatically, and Alice hated him for that brief moment. ‘It’s just that I’m thinking of standing for Parliament and
I’m very careful about avoiding enemies.’
‘You’d be marvellous,’ breathed Alice. Why, he could be Prime Minister! Maggie Thatcher couldn’t live forever.
‘You’re a funny, intense little thing,’ said Jeremy. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, a firm but schoolboyish embrace. ‘Now, let’s go fish.’ He
grinned.
Alice waded dizzily into the Sheiling, her legs trembling, a sick feeling of excitement churning in her stomach. The future Prime Minister of Britain had just kissed her! ‘No
comment,’ she said to the clamouring press as she swept into Number Ten. Where did Princess Di get her hats? She must find out.
Sunshine, physical exercise, and dreams of glory. Alice was often to look back on that afternoon as the last golden period of her existence.
The sun burned down behind the mountains, making them two-dimensional cardboard mountains from a stage set. The clear air was scented with thyme and sage and pine.
To Alice’s joy, Daphne had been suffering from mild sunstroke and had been taken back to the hotel by Heather. So she was allowed to ride home with Jeremy.
There is nothing more sensuous than a rich fast car driven by a rich slow man through a Highland evening.
Alice felt languorous and sexy. The setting sun flashed between the trees and bushes as they drove along with the pale gold brilliance of the far north.
The grass was so very green in this evening light, this gloaming. Green as the fairy stories, green and gold as Never-Never Land. Alice could well understand now why the Highlanders believed in
fairies. Jeremy slowed the car outside the village as the tall blonde Alice had seen with Constable Macbeth came striding along the side of the road with two Irish wolfhounds on the leash.
‘That’s the love of Constable Macbeth’s life,’ said Alice, delighted to have a piece of gossip.
‘No hope there,’ said Jeremy, cheerfully and unconsciously quoting Lady Jane. ‘That’s Priscilla Halburton-Smythe, daughter of Colonel James Halburton-Smythe. Her
photograph was in Country Life the other week. The Halburton-Smythes own most of the land around here.’
‘Oh,’ said Alice, feeling a certain kinship with the village constable. ‘Perhaps she loves him too.’
‘She wouldn’t be so silly,’ said Jeremy. ‘ I wouldn’t even have a chance there.’
‘Do people’s backgrounds matter a great deal to you?’ asked Alice in a low voice.
Jeremy reminded himself of his future as a politician. ‘No,’ he said stoutly. ‘I think all that sort of thing is rot. A lady is a lady no matter what her background.’
Alice gave him a brilliant smile, and he smiled back, thinking she really was a very pretty little thing.
The sun disappeared as they plunged down to Lochdubh. Alice prayed that Jeremy would stop the car and kiss her again, but he seemed to have become immersed in his own thoughts.
When they arrived at the hotel, it was to find the rest of the fishing party surrounding Major Peter Frame. He was proudly holding up a large salmon while Heather took his photograph. Two more
giants lay in plastic bags on the ground at his feet.
‘How on earth did you do it?’ said Jeremy, slapping the major on the back. ‘Hey, that fellow’s got a chunk out the side.’
‘’Fraid that’s where I wrenched the hook out, old man,’ said the major. ‘Got too excited.’
‘Gosh, I wish I had stayed with you,’ said Jeremy. ‘But I thought you went off somewhere else. Did you?’
The major laid his finger alongside his nose. ‘Mum’s
‘You mean, she’s illegitimate,’ gasped Alice. ‘How splendid. I’d like to throw that in her face.’
‘Don’t, for God’s sake,’ said Jeremy harshly. ‘She’d bite back like a viper.’
‘But you said she’s got no power.’
‘Hasn’t any power,’ corrected Jeremy automatically, and Alice hated him for that brief moment. ‘It’s just that I’m thinking of standing for Parliament and
I’m very careful about avoiding enemies.’
‘You’d be marvellous,’ breathed Alice. Why, he could be Prime Minister! Maggie Thatcher couldn’t live forever.
‘You’re a funny, intense little thing,’ said Jeremy. He leaned forward and kissed her on the lips, a firm but schoolboyish embrace. ‘Now, let’s go fish.’ He
grinned.
Alice waded dizzily into the Sheiling, her legs trembling, a sick feeling of excitement churning in her stomach. The future Prime Minister of Britain had just kissed her! ‘No
comment,’ she said to the clamouring press as she swept into Number Ten. Where did Princess Di get her hats? She must find out.
Sunshine, physical exercise, and dreams of glory. Alice was often to look back on that afternoon as the last golden period of her existence.
The sun burned down behind the mountains, making them two-dimensional cardboard mountains from a stage set. The clear air was scented with thyme and sage and pine.
To Alice’s joy, Daphne had been suffering from mild sunstroke and had been taken back to the hotel by Heather. So she was allowed to ride home with Jeremy.
There is nothing more sensuous than a rich fast car driven by a rich slow man through a Highland evening.
Alice felt languorous and sexy. The setting sun flashed between the trees and bushes as they drove along with the pale gold brilliance of the far north.
The grass was so very green in this evening light, this gloaming. Green as the fairy stories, green and gold as Never-Never Land. Alice could well understand now why the Highlanders believed in
fairies. Jeremy slowed the car outside the village as the tall blonde Alice had seen with Constable Macbeth came striding along the side of the road with two Irish wolfhounds on the leash.
‘That’s the love of Constable Macbeth’s life,’ said Alice, delighted to have a piece of gossip.
‘No hope there,’ said Jeremy, cheerfully and unconsciously quoting Lady Jane. ‘That’s Priscilla Halburton-Smythe, daughter of Colonel James Halburton-Smythe. Her
photograph was in Country Life the other week. The Halburton-Smythes own most of the land around here.’
‘Oh,’ said Alice, feeling a certain kinship with the village constable. ‘Perhaps she loves him too.’
‘She wouldn’t be so silly,’ said Jeremy. ‘ I wouldn’t even have a chance there.’
‘Do people’s backgrounds matter a great deal to you?’ asked Alice in a low voice.
Jeremy reminded himself of his future as a politician. ‘No,’ he said stoutly. ‘I think all that sort of thing is rot. A lady is a lady no matter what her background.’
Alice gave him a brilliant smile, and he smiled back, thinking she really was a very pretty little thing.
The sun disappeared as they plunged down to Lochdubh. Alice prayed that Jeremy would stop the car and kiss her again, but he seemed to have become immersed in his own thoughts.
When they arrived at the hotel, it was to find the rest of the fishing party surrounding Major Peter Frame. He was proudly holding up a large salmon while Heather took his photograph. Two more
giants lay in plastic bags on the ground at his feet.
‘How on earth did you do it?’ said Jeremy, slapping the major on the back. ‘Hey, that fellow’s got a chunk out the side.’
‘’Fraid that’s where I wrenched the hook out, old man,’ said the major. ‘Got too excited.’
‘Gosh, I wish I had stayed with you,’ said Jeremy. ‘But I thought you went off somewhere else. Did you?’
The major laid his finger alongside his nose. ‘Mum’s
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