Northanger Abbey

9

Cat’s reaction to the photograph was not, as might be supposed, unmitigated pleasure. Instead, she was filled with an overwhelming desire to eat chocolate. Mr Allen came home towards midnight to find her working her way through the remains of a chocolate fudge cake from the fridge. ‘The raging munchies,’ he said, eyebrows raised, a smile twitching the corners of his mouth. ‘Tell me you’ve not been smoking dope, Cat.’

Shocked that he would even think such a thing, Cat exclaimed, ‘Even if I did take drugs, I would never abuse your hospitality like that.’

Seeing that he had genuinely upset her, Mr Allen sat down at the table and helped himself to a broken chunk of fudge icing. ‘Relax, Cat. I was only teasing. But if you ever did need a non-judgemental place to smoke a joint, you could do a lot worse than to come round to our house.’

‘Are you saying you and Susie do drugs?’ This was the final disappointment of what had been a profoundly anti-climactic evening. It was not that Cat was a prig; simply that home schooling meant she had never been offered illicit drugs nor was she aware of anyone in her immediate circle who indulged. What she knew of drug-taking she had learned from books and films and it had awakened no desire in her to partake.

Mr Allen chuckled. ‘Not any more. But we did enjoy our misspent youths. It’s OK, Cat, I didn’t really think you’d been getting stoned, it’s just that I’ve never seen you working your way through great slabs of cake at any time of day, never mind last thing at night. And one of the side effects of dope is that it makes you want to stuff yourself with sweet things.’

Unwilling to share the reason for her comfort eating, Cat wrapped up the last of the cake and replaced it in the fridge. ‘I just didn’t get much to eat at the dance,’ she said. ‘Good night.’

Cat went to bed determined to lie awake and wallow in her misery. Instead, she was asleep in minutes and when she woke nine hours later, her despair had evaporated, replaced by a buoyant optimism that spawned fresh hopes and fresh schemes.

Phase one of her plan was to develop her new acquaintance with Ellie Tilney. She told herself that it was for the girl’s own sake, but in her secret heart she knew she sought to reach the brother through the sister. She had gleaned from their conversation that Ellie had tickets for three events at the Pleasance that day. Cat checked the Fringe programme and discovered that the first of these was due to take place at noon. She determined to make her way over there after eleven, so she could appear to be a fellow audience member when Ellie arrived.

To pass the time, she curled up in an armchair with the Hebridean Harpies. Being part of a large family had allowed Cat to develop the habit of selective deafness, so she was more or less immune to the random remarks and exclamations of Susie, who, having so little to occupy her mind, was determined to share whatever trifle happened to cross it. Whether it was an intriguing item in her Twitter feed or a stain on her dress, a traffic jam in the street below or a particular pigeon on a ledge across the street, Susie had to pass comment, regardless of the reactions of Cat or Mr Allen.

But it was impossible to ignore the shriek of delighted astonishment that Susie let out at the sight of something in the street below. ‘What is it?’ Cat asked, dragging her attention away from Ghasts of Gigha to present company.

‘Look,’ Susie exclaimed. ‘It’s Johnny Thorpe in an amazing red sports car. And your brother and Bella in ...’ She tailed off.

Mr Allen, who had joined her at the window, completed her sentence. ‘A rather clapped-out Triumph Spitfire, unless I’m mistaken.’

‘Oooh! Johnny’s jumped out, he’s coming up!’ Susie clapped her hands over her face. ‘Look at me, I’m wearing rags, I’m hardly made up at all! What will he think?’

‘I don’t imagine it’s you he’s come to see,’ Mr Allen said drily. And now there was a hammering at the door. ‘Bloody boy doesn’t know what a doorbell’s for,’ he grumbled as he went to answer it.

Johnny bounded in, a cheeky grin on his face, tight jeans and a striped shirt on his body. A throat-closing swirl of pungent aftershave hung in the air around him. ‘Well, Cat, here I am. Have you been waiting long? It took your brother longer than he expected to sort out the loan of a set of wheels. Good morning, Mrs Allen, bloody good night last night, wasn’t it? I went back to the tables after you left, made a few hundred at the blackjack table. Splendid night, all told. Come on then, Cat, we’re on a double yellow and we’re all waiting for you.’ He rolled his hand from the wrist, imploring her to get on with it.

‘What do you mean? Where are you all going to?’

He rolled his eyes, which brought home his resemblance to his sister Bella. ‘Going to? What have you got instead of brains, Cat? Have you forgotten our date? A run out to North Berwick for fish and chips? We’re all ready and waiting.’

‘You mentioned it in passing, I don’t remember a firm arrangement being made. You could have texted me or Facebooked me.’

He looked affronted. ‘What, you think I’m the kind of man who just makes idle promises? Cat, I work in the City now, where a man’s word is his bond.’

‘Or not, as has apparently been the case with some of our bankers,’ Mr Allen cut in darkly.

‘Whatever. Text or no text, you’d have kicked off royally if I hadn’t turned up, I bet.’

All Cat wanted from the day was to see Ellie Tilney. And she knew that her new friend had tickets for three events at the Pleasance. The run out to North Berwick couldn’t take that long. She was bound to be back in time to catch Ellie later in the day. And if she dug her heels in and refused to go, it would only cause bad feeling that would spoil the day for her brother and her friend. The only thing that could override John’s insistence and not reflect badly on her would be if Susie vetoed the outing because of pre-existing plans. She cast her a beseeching look and said, ‘Is that OK with you, Susie? It’s not interfering with your plans?’

Susie either failed to notice the entreaty or misread it altogether for she said, ‘Of course, you must go off with James and your friends. You don’t want to be stuck with fuddy duddy me all day, do you?’ And she shooed them out the door like a mother hen, busily telling John how wonderful a young woman Cat was and how he must spoil her as she deserved to be spoiled.

Cat hurried down the stairs in John’s wake, emerging to the sound of Bella whooping with joy at the sight of her. ‘Hey, girlfriend! What kept you?’ Cat ran across the pavement and embraced Bella, who muttered in her ear, ‘I totally need to talk to you about last night, but it’ll have to wait till these guys are done with driving around like Formula One maniacs.’

‘Come on, Cat.’ John was already in the driving seat, drumming his fingers on the steering wheel.

As she turned away, she heard Bella say to her brother, ‘She’s such a sweetie, Jamie.’ It was a gratifying moment, given how unloved she had felt the previous evening. She let herself down into the low-slung passenger seat and John revved the engine, filling the street with its low boom.

‘I warn you, I’m one hell of a driver,’ John said, slamming the car into gear and shooting forward. The acceleration thrust Cat back into her seat, but she was almost immediately thrown against the seat belt when the next traffic light turned red and they were forced to stop with a screech of brakes.

Hell was right, she thought, as they proceeded east out of the city in a series of sudden leaps and abrupt halts. On a couple of occasions, Cat managed to glance behind at her brother and Bella, who seemed to be keeping up with them despite travelling in a far less violent fashion. Through it all, John maintained a steady monologue, requiring nothing more from Cat than the occasional grunt, which was just as well since she felt beyond speech.

‘I love having the top down. The wind in your hair, the sun on your face, the feeling of freedom.’

The traffic fumes and the dust in your eyes, Cat thought.

‘Wait till we hit the A1, then I’ll show you what she can do. Your brother will never keep up in that old rustbucket he borrowed.’ And so on, and so forth.

As they turned into London Road, John abruptly changed the subject. ‘Old Allen – is he Jewish?’

Catherine had no idea what prompted the question and it made her slightly uneasy. ‘Mr Allen? He’s not that old. And I don’t think he’s Jewish. They come to church at Christmas. Why does it matter? Why are you bothered?’

‘Just curious.’ He gave a harsh bark of laughter. ‘He’s got all the financial acumen of a Jew. They’re still top of the tree in the finance business, you know. And he’s definitely made plenty of money over the years, no?’

‘I suppose so. They have a lovely house in the village and a flat in Holland Park. And they’re always taking exotic holidays.’ There was no envy in Cat’s words, merely a statement of fact.

‘They’ve no kids of their own, right?’

‘That’s right. Susie says she never wanted kids, but sometimes I wonder.’

‘But they’re your godparents, right?’

Cat frowned and grabbed the side of the car as they lurched round a milk float at speed. ‘No, they’re just family friends.’

‘But you’re special to them, right? Or else why would they bring you to Edinburgh with them for a whole month?’

‘Mr Allen thought I would be company for Susie while he’s working.’

‘You sure it’s her you’re here to keep amused and not him?’

When Cat understood his meaning, she was so annoyed she would likely have jumped out of the car if they’d been stationary. ‘That’s a horrible thing to say,’ she told him. ‘You make him sound like some dirty old pervert. And he’s nothing like that at all. That’s a revolting idea. He doesn’t even tell smutty jokes. He’s a genuinely nice man, I don’t know how you dare to suggest otherwise.’

John grunted, as if dissatisfied with her response. ‘I heard he’s got health problems.’

‘He had a minor heart attack in the spring, he’s supposed to take things a bit easier. That’s why Susie’s here for the whole month this time – she wanted to keep an eye on him.’

‘But he’s still knocking back the Scotch, right? I saw him the other night at a whisky tasting and he was giving it some welly for a man who’s supposed to be looking after his heart.’

‘I think that’s his business, don’t you?’

‘I’m not saying it’s a bad thing,’ John said. ‘Living in this country is so bloody depressing you need something to cheer you up.’

‘Yes, I hear you students apparently needed a lot of cheering up. My dad says it’s shocking how much you lot drink compared with what it was like in his day.’ This was as close to waspishness as Cat was capable of.

John laughed loudly. ‘This new lot are all lightweights when it comes to drinking, trust me. When I was a fresher, we’d think nothing of knocking back two or three bottles of wine each on a good night, with a few brandy chasers. But I hear this year’s lot were falling over their feet after a single bottle.’

‘Maybe they weren’t as well off as your crowd,’ Cat said. ‘Maybe they’d been preloading on the cheap vodka. James told me that’s what people do in Newcastle.’

He shook his head, pityingly. ‘Then they need to find a way to earn enough money to drink properly.’

‘You don’t have to be a big drinker to get on, though. James hardly drinks at all.’

John snorted like a pig. But whatever he said was lost in the growl of a massive articulated lorry sitting next to them at the lights. Cat remained unenlightened as to the true extent of her brother’s indulgence in the Oxford high life.

Once they could hear each other speak again, John launched into a detailed explanation of precisely how rubbish her brother’s borrowed car was. ‘I bet it hasn’t even got an MOT,’ he shouted as they turned on to the dual carriageway of the A1 and he stamped on the accelerator. Cat narrowed her eyes against the scourging wind and held her hair in a tight ponytail to prevent it whipping painfully against her face. She could barely make out the speedo, but she managed to discern that they had left the speed limit in the dust.

By the time they reached North Berwick, she was freezing and nauseous. She had never been happier to see a car park. ‘It’ll be ages before Jamie and Bella get here. We can get a head start on the drinks,’ he announced, making for the entrance of the gastropub he claimed produced the best fish and chips in East Lothian, according to his boss in London.

Cat caught up with him by the door and grabbed his sleeve. ‘I’m not going back with you if you have a drink,’ she said mutinously.

His lip curled in a sneer. ‘Then how will you get back?’

‘I’ll go with James. He doesn’t drink and drive. And neither should you.’

He cocked his head, considering her. For once, the words of someone else had penetrated the thick shell of his self-esteem. ‘For the sake of buggering barnacles,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘All right, Miss Goody Two Shoes. I’ll stick to mineral water. Just for you. But remember that when I want a favour from you.’

He strode into the pub, oblivious to her saying, ‘Obeying the law isn’t a favour.’ Wearily, she followed him inside and found him at the bar ordering two sparkling mineral waters. ‘If I can’t drink, neither can you,’ he said dismissively.

‘I’m still only seventeen so I can’t drink legally in a pub anyway,’ Cat said, taking her glass and crossing to a table in the window. She prayed her brother would not be much longer for she did not know how much more of this conversation she could endure.

Her companion was all brag and bluster, exaggeration and embellishment, hyperbole and histrionics. Nothing in Cat’s life had prepared her for John Thorpe. Her own family were direct and matter-of-fact to the point of dullness. Even the Allens, who moved in relatively exalted circles, never boasted about their connections or inflated their own worth at the expense of others. But John was a man who never owned a mistake, whose every anecdote showed him in a glowing light, whose skills and abilities were second to none. Cat was certain she was supposed to marvel that he had deigned to honour her with his presence.

It was all very perplexing because it was so unexpected. Bella spoke of him with such warmth, praising his sense of fun and his generosity. And James, her sweet-natured, clever brother, had told her that women found him irresistible. Neither had so much as hinted at how wearyingly self-absorbed his conversation was. Briefly, Cat considered the problem might lie with her and her undoubted lack of social sophistication. But when James and Bella finally joined them, the atmosphere changed completely and Cat found herself having fun.

The drive had given them all an appetite for the fish and chips – excellent as billed – and they were soon back on the road, much to the relief of Cat, who was mindful of Ellie Tilney’s schedule for the afternoon. She gritted her teeth and blotted out both the return journey and the blowhard bullshit of her companion with a full-blooded daydream of how the rest of the day would play out.

When they arrived back in Queen Street, Cat felt obliged to invite them in for tea and cakes. Bella was halfway out of the car when she looked at her watch and screamed. ‘Look at the time. OMG, how did it get so late? It’s past three o’clock and Ma has tickets for a play at Summerhall at four.’

‘For us too?’ her brother demanded, sounding disgruntled.

‘Yes, she managed to get her hands on a pair of returns this morning.’ Bella got out of the car and wrapped Cat in a tight hug. ‘This is so stupid, when am I ever going to get to talk to you? This totally sucks. We’re going on to dinner afterwards with some family friends, so boring. I’d much rather we were together.’

Cat was torn between missing their intimate chats and wanting to be rid of them all so she could track down Ellie Tilney. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘Susie has tickets for the Book Festival this evening. A crime writer and a historical novelist.’

John rolled his eyes. ‘Rather you than me.’

‘Will we see you later?’ Cat asked her brother.

Looking faintly embarrassed, he said, ‘Like Bella said, her mum managed to get a pair of tickets. I don’t want to let her down after she put herself out for me like that.’

‘And he might as well come to dinner since he’s staying with us,’ Bella added. ‘So we’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’ She air-kissed Cat on both sides then jumped back into the car with a cheerful wave.

Cat ran upstairs, reckoning she just had time to brush her hair after its buffeting in the car. And maybe to change into a fresh T-shirt that didn’t smell of petrol fumes. As she burst in, she almost crashed into Susie, who was hanging up her wrap. ‘Oh, there you are,’ she said, her capacity for stating the obvious undiminished by her exposure to Edinburgh intellectual life. ‘Did you have a lovely time?’

Cat had been brought up always to have something positive to say about any experience. ‘The fish and chips was excellent.’

‘Martha said it would be. She was thrilled that the four of you were going off together.’ She went through to the kitchen, Cat at her heels.

‘You saw Mrs Thorpe this morning?’

‘We met up for coffee in George Street. And who should we see but Ellie and Henry Tilney.’

Taken aback, Cat said, ‘But Ellie told me she had tickets for the Pleasance today.’

Susie nodded sagely. ‘That’s right, so she did. But you know everybody’s been raving about the South African production of Macbeth in the main festival, and it turns out that one of the family knows the company manager and he snagged them some tickets for this afternoon’s matinee. So Ellie handed back her Fringe tickets and was all set for Macbeth with her father and Henry.’

‘Oh.’

‘We had a lovely chat. They’re really charming, Henry and Ellie. They remind me of you and James, such good manners and such attractive personalities. Ellie was wearing a beautiful dress, cream with tiny sprigs of herbs all over it. Almost Regency looking. She’s obviously got very individual taste, that girl.’

‘Yes, apparently.’

‘Martha’s friend Helen was with us, and she told us all about the family after Henry and Ellie had gone.’

Now Cat was eager. ‘What did she say?’

‘Their family home is in the Borders, Northanger Abbey. Helen says they’ve lived there since before Flodden, whenever that was. And they’re very well off.’ Susie filled the kettle and turned it on.

‘And are their parents both here in Edinburgh with them?’

Susie frowned. ‘Now, what did she say ... ? They can’t both be dead otherwise who would have sorted the tickets out ... I think their mother is dead. Yes, I’m sure she is, because Helen said Ellie inherited her mother’s jewellery. Now what else was it she said ... ? Oh yes. Apparently the mother was practically a recluse for years before she actually died.’ Susie gave Cat a knowing look. ‘And we all know what that means, don’t we?’

‘Do we?’

Susie raised her eyebrows. ‘Well, there’s no reason why you would know, my dear. You’ve so little experience of the world. But often it means ...’ she lowered her voice, ‘... mental health problems. Sometimes as a result of domestic abuse. Physical or psychological. Not that Helen said that in so many words, but reading between the lines ...’

Cat, lacking the experience to distinguish speculative gossip from truth, gathered the information as if it were gospel. ‘That doesn’t sound good. What about the other brother, Freddie? Did you pick up any info about him?’

Susie looked doubtful. ‘She didn’t say, I don’t think. But it was lovely to run into them.’

‘Did they ask after me?’ She hardly dared ask the question, but she needed to know the answer.

Susie put a finger to her chin. ‘Now I come to think of it ... No, I don’t think they did.’

Crestfallen, Cat enquired no further. She had heard enough, and she excused herself, rushing to her bedroom and throwing herself down on the coverlet. The knowledge of what she had missed festered in her heart, and the more she felt the anguish of missing out on the Tilneys, the more she disliked John Thorpe and his stupid red sports car. That, she vowed, would be the last moment of her time she would waste on that blowhard bore.