LITMIR.BIZ

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realized that Mrs. Murray was still waiting for an answer.

      “Lorna, have you got something on your mind this morning?” Mrs. Murray suddenly appeared concerned. “Is everything all right at home, dear? Are your brothers …?”

      Mrs. Murray’s lashes were glistening wet.

      “I mean,” the teacher tried again, “have you perhaps had some news from the regiment?”

      Then Lorna understood what she was really asking. Mrs. Murray’s only son, Gregor, was one of John Jo’s best friends—and Lorna’s favorite by far—and was serving with him in the same regiment of the Royal Scots. Her husband had died when Gregor was quite young, so once Gregor joined up, she’d been left on her own.

      “Oh no, Mrs. Murray, nothing like that. We had a letter from John just yesterday, and he’s doing fine. He moaned about the cold and the food and all the usual stuff but seemed to be fine otherwise. I’m afraid he didn’t mention Gregor in his letter, though.”

      Mrs. Murray’s anxious expression shifted to relief, then to disappointment.

      “But I’m sure Gregor will get in touch soon. I’ll write back to John Jo this evening and I’ll have him tell Gregor you were asking after him, if you like.”

      Mrs. Murray’s mouth smiled, though her eyes did not.

      “That would be kind, dear, thank you. Gregor never was one for writing, was he?”

      Mrs. Murray gave a not very convincing laugh and dabbed at her cheeks with a white lace hankie she had drawn out of her skirt pocket.

      “Come on then, Lorna, back to work, and please think about what I’ve said.”

      Lorna tried to hand back the college papers, but Mrs. Murray didn’t take them.

      “Keep them, dear.” Mrs. Murray patted Lorna’s hand. “You never know what might be around the corner. And if you would be kind enough to pass that message on to your brother, I’d be very grateful.”

      Mrs. Murray pulled open the door of the classroom and, squaring her shoulders, walked inside.

      “George Brown! Sit down! Can I not leave this classroom for one minute?”

      As Lorna returned to her desk, Iris tore her eyes away from William Urquhart to look at Lorna questioningly, but Lorna just shrugged back. The secretarial college papers crinkled inside her cardigan as she sat down. Her secret for now.

      As Mrs. Murray wrote again on the blackboard, Iris nudged Lorna’s elbow.

      “What news?” she whispered.

      Lorna shook her head and mouthed, “Later.” As soon as they were alone after school, she would tell Iris all the details of that morning. After all, Lorna and Iris had shared everything since they were tiny.

      It was strange, though; as the day wore on, Lorna became aware of an unfathomable desire to keep the arrival of that awful damaged stranger to herself.

      Three o’clock finally came. William Urquhart stood up from his desk with an officious clatter. William was the son of the parish minister and was also Aberlady School’s head boy. As such, he was responsible for ringing the big handbell by the front door to signal the beginning and the end of the school day.

      As he passed by, William winked at Iris.

      Iris giggled and blushed.

      Lorna groaned.

      What was Iris thinking? Of all the boys she could set her sights on, why did it have to be pompous William Urquhart?

      As the first heavy peal of the handbell sounded from the front door, Lorna was on her feet, signaling to Iris to be quick. Iris clearly had other ideas. As everyone else surged from the room, she very carefully flipped down the lid of the inkwell set into her desk, wiped her pen nib on a cloth rag, and placed her workbook into her desk, lining it up carefully on top of the pile already inside. Then she took a hairbrush from her schoolbag and began tugging at the knots in her messy brown curls, pulling the hair straight down her shoulder with the brush, only to have them bounce back up again, looking no tidier than when she started.

      “Come on, Iris, hurry!” urged Lorna.

      “I’m coming, I’m coming,” said Iris, stuffing the brush back into her bag. Suddenly, her eyes lit up as she looked behind Lorna.

      William Urquhart was standing right there, uncomfortably close. He bowed at the waist—not a brief nod like the German’s, but a full bow—and Lorna had to step back to avoid him touching her.

      “Have a good afternoon, ladies,” he drawled.

      So full of himself!

      He straightened up and brushed past Lorna. When he reached Iris, he lifted her left hand to his thick red lips and kissed the back of it.

      Iris giggled again.

      Lorna shuddered. Who did he think he was, Errol Flynn?

      “Good afternoon to you, William,” Iris purred. “I’ll see you in the morning. I’m looking forward to it already.”

      William oiled his way out of the classroom. As they followed him out, Lorna glared at Iris but said nothing until they were on the street. There she bent double and pretended to retch into the gutter.

      “What are you doing?” asked Iris.

      Lorna stood up.

      “Oh, William, I’m looking forward to it already,” she cooed sarcastically, wiggling her hips in an impression of Iris. “Iris, you can’t be serious.”

      “But he’s so dashing.”

      Lorna scoffed.

      “We’ve always said he looks like a young Tyrone Power, though.”

      “No, Iris, you’ve just started saying that.” She glanced around in case William had reappeared. “I’ve always said that he looks like a snooty, stuck-up slug.”

      Iris pursed her lips in that infuriating motherly way, and Lorna knew what was coming—another lecture about how Lorna didn’t appreciate William’s better traits.

      “No, you’re wrong, he’s not stuck-up. He’s very intelligent and really, very mature.”

      “Did he tell you that?” Lorna didn’t want to sound nasty, but sometimes she despaired of Iris, she really did. William had only asked Iris out for the first time the other day, but she was acting like they’d been an item for years.

      “Actually, it was his mother who told me,” Iris said without irony, ignoring Lorna’s snort of derision. “And he’s already been offered a place at Edinburgh University for September to study law. And then he’ll do his postgraduate doctorate in theology so he can become a minister like his father. Of course, William has ambitions beyond a tiny parish like Aberlady. He’ll have one of the big churches in Edinburgh, even St. Giles Cathedral, perhaps. He’s very driven, you know, and I very much admire that in an honorable man.”

      Lorna had heard enough.

      “An honorable man? Iris! Listen to yourself. Don’t you remember how upset you were just last year when he was so mean and patronizing about your Jane Austen project? And about your singing, and my drawing? Are you telling me he’s really changed that much?”

      “He has, Lorna. You’re just not giving him a chance,” Iris muttered through pursed lips. “He’s changed since then. And you are being quite mean and patronizing yourself right now.”

      “I am not. I’m just trying to get you to see sense,” Lorna retorted. “Anyway, what about John Jo? My brother will be heartbroken when he finds out you’re not pining for him anymore.”

      “That was just a girlish infatuation,” Iris said haughtily. “This is true love. William and I will be together forever.”

      “Forever?”

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