The Legacy of Lochandee

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Authors: Gwen Kirkwood
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dining table. She knew he was recalling the bitter woman who had resented both of them and done her best to keep them apart. She came out of her reverie to hear Fiona speaking.
    â€˜It’s time I was going home,’ she said, feeling the family might want to discuss the discovery of the vase without her.
    â€˜I’ll give you a lift home,’ Nick offered.
    Conan frowned at him. ‘I’ll take her. It’s time I was going anyway, and I expect you and Bridie have plenty to talk about – as usual.’ He pushed back his chair and as he passed Bridie he gave her a brotherly thump. ‘For goodness sake, send him home a bit more cheerful tonight. If that’s what being in love does to a man, I thank God I’m immune.’
    â€˜Don’t you be so sure you are,’ Ross warned. ‘And give Nick and Bridie time to work out their own problems. Everybody gets them sometime or other.’
    â€˜They do indeed,’ Mr Murray agreed with a sigh. ‘But the love of a good woman is one of the greatest gifts a man can have.’
    â€˜Aye,’ Ross winked at Rachel, ‘I’ll agree to that anytime.’
    Conan looked from his father to his mother, saw her pink cheeks and snorted. Surely his parents were too old to be flirting – and in public too.
    â€˜If you’re ready, Fiona?’ His voice was more abrupt than he intended.
    â€˜I’m sure Bridie will take me home if it’s a trouble to you,’ she said stiffly.
    â€˜It’s not a trouble or I wouldn’t have offered. You said you were ready to leave, and so am I.’
    â€˜Very well.’
    â€˜He hasn’t changed since he was the bossy Head Boy on the school bus, has he?’ Bridie grinned.
    â€˜No, not that I’ve noticed, anyway.’ Fiona stood up with a wry grimace for Bridie.
    â€˜Are you sure you want a lift, Miss Sinclair?’
    â€˜I shall be with you just as soon as I have thanked your parents and Mr Murray,’ Fiona told him calmly. ‘I’m sure even you wouldn’t wish me to forget my manners, Conan …’
    â€˜Of course not,’ he muttered, aware of the amused glance which had passed between his parents, not to mention Nick’s knowing grin. Even young Ewan, who had been half-asleep, was regarding him curiously with his head on one side. He scowled and bid them all a general goodnight. As he passed Mr Murray, he stopped and shook the older man’s hand, thanked him for coming and wished him a safe journey home. There was genuine respect and sympathy in his gaze as their eyes met. There was no need for words. They were both remembering Mark, full of regrets that he was not with them tonight.
    When he had left the room Mr Murray turned to Rachel.
    â€˜Your son is a fine young man. You will be proud of his success one day, because that is what he means to be – a success in his own chosen field. Right now he seems to have a need to prove himself …’
    â€˜Like father, like son,’ Rachel agreed.
    â€˜Yes, maybe it is inherited, the yearning to do well. I know Mark had a great respect for Conan, as did the rest of the crew. They knew they could depend on him …’
    Nick sat up straight, suddenly alert. Did Mr Murray think Conan was in some way responsible for Mark’s death? They might have their differences over the garage business, but Nick knew he would defend Conan to the last over anything to do with their time together in the RAF.
    Mr Murray sighed and went on. ‘I knew after Bobby was killed that Mark cared less for his own life. They were identical twins, you know. They did everything together …’
    â€˜Yes,’ Rachel said gently. She laid a comforting hand on his arm. ‘It would have been dreadful to lose one son, but to lose them both …’ She trembled at the thought. Mr Murray patted her hand.
    â€˜We were not alone. War is a cruel thing and there were

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