A Kind of Magic. Betty Neels

visit to a local country estate that evening, but Mrs Macdonald declared herself too tired to go. She and Rosie dined alone to the great inconvenience of the train staff, Rosie thought, although they presented smiling faces when her grandmother requested dinner to be served at the usual time. Everyone else had gone off in the coach and would have a buffet supper at the house they were to visit.

      Rosie settled her grandparent for the night, went back to the observation car, and was presently overwhelmed by the returning passengers, eager to tell her about the house they had seen, and the buffet super. They were kind, and concerned that she was having such a dull time of it.

      ‘But tomorrow we’re all going to the wildlife park,’ one woman remarked. ‘Your grandmother could come in the coach and be put down at the hotel in Aviemore, Rosie. That would be nice and quiet for her, and you could come with us…’

      It sounded a splendid idea, Rosie agreed. ‘But I’ll have to see how Granny feels about it,’ she reminded them.

      She had been too hopeful. In the morning Mrs Macdonald declared that she intended to visit the hotel by the station where she had stayed years ago. ‘With your grandfather, dear—a sentimental visit I have long looked forward to.’ When Rosie said hopefully that she might like to be on her own there, she was told at once that probably the emotion stirred up by fond memories might upset her grandmother; it was essential that she had Rosie beside her.

      Rosie watched the coach drive away once more and, presently warned by Jamie, the guide, as he got into the coach, that the train would leave in an hour’s time for Perth and Stirling, the pair of them walked the very short distance from the train to the hotel.

      It had of course, changed hands. Which didn’t stop her grandmother insisting upon seeing round the hotel, pausing from time to time to make some blistering remark about the changes in the rooms. The owner was patient and courteous, but even his politeness wore thin when Mrs Macdonald criticised the colour scheme in the dining-room in no uncertain terms.

      Time I did something, decided Rosie, and asked if they might have coffee.

      They drank it in the pleasant lounge on the other side of the foyer and after a short time she said, ‘We should be going back, Granny, the train’s due to leave in ten minutes…’

      ‘I cannot be hurried, my dear. I intend to take a quick look at the gardens at the back of the hotel—five minutes only I promise you—and I wish to be alone. Wait here.’

      Rosie paid the bill, and went to the hotel entrance. She could see the train clearly enough, five minutes would suffice to get her grandmother back on board. She knew that the schedule was strict, for the train had to fit in exactly with the normal timetable, and they had been warned in the nicest possible way by Jamie that if anyone missed it they would have to find their way to the next stopping-place. She glanced at her watch—her grandmother had been gone for five minutes and there was no sign of her.

      The gardens behind the hotel were neatly laid out with a variety of shrubs and beds of flowers, petering out into rough grass hedged with gorse and broom, ferns and, later in the year, heather. She found her grandmother there huddled on the ground, one leg bent awkwardly. Mrs Macdonald’s face was paper-white, but she had lost very little of her brisk manner.

      ‘My leg,’ she explained ‘I tripped. The ankle…’

      ‘I’ll get help,’ said Rosie, who when necessary could be just as brisk as her granny, and sped back to the hotel, where she sent the owner and one of the waiters to carry her grandmother in, and then turned and ran back to the station.

      Will, one of the stewards, was on the platform.

      ‘We’re off in just under five minutes, Miss Macdonald,’ he began.

      Rosie told him what had happened, and before she had finished the train manager had joined them.

      ‘We shall have to stay behind,’ she told him. ‘We’ll never be able to get my grandmother on to the train, and she needs a doctor quickly. I know that you have to leave on the dot. Could someone pack our things and send them back here on one of the local trains? I can’t think of anything else to do…’

      ‘I’ll come to the hotel.’ The manager glanced at his watch, and began marching her back. ‘I’m so very sorry, but you do see that the journey can’t be delayed or altered…?’

      ‘Yes, of course. We shall be quite all right here, but I think that if it’s a sprain or a break we shall have to stay for a while until something can be arranged.’

      They had reached the hotel, and found Mrs Macdonald laid out on a big sofa. She had lost her shoe when she fell, and the ankle was badly swollen. She opened her eyes as they reached her, and said peevishly, ‘I intend to remain here until a doctor has examined me. Rosie will make the necessary arrangements. Good of you to come.’

      The manager was a nice youngish man; he said all that was proper and, with his eye on the time, wished her a speedy recovery, and promised that she would hear from him.

      ‘I’ll phone you from Stirling,’ he promised, ‘and I’ll see about your luggage. Has someone phoned for a doctor? There should be one at Crianlarich and several in Oban.’

      ‘Don’t worry, the hotel owner will know.’ Rosie added urgently, ‘Don’t, for heaven’s sake, miss the train.’

      ‘I hate to leave you both—’ he shook her hand ‘—but there’s nothing else for it.’

      The train gave an impatient toot, and he turned and ran.

      There were several people fussing around her grandmother, not quite sure what to do first.

      ‘Scissors, please,’ said Rosie, ‘a bowl of cold water and a napkin. How long will it take the doctor to get here?’

      She took her grandmother’s hand and gave it a heartening squeeze. ‘I’m so sorry, Granny, we’ll have you comfortable in a little while.’ She was carefully cutting the black stocking, and easing it off the swollen foot.

      ‘I don’t know much about it, but I don’t think it’s broken. I’m going to lay a cold cloth over it. There…and if someone will help me we’ll put some cushions behind you; you’ll feel easier sitting up a little.’

      One of the waitresses came in with a cup of tea, and the hotel owner came back to say that most fortunately Dr Finlay at Crianlarich had just returned from early-morning fishing, and was driving over. They were to make the patient comfortable, but were not to move her.

      Rosie studied her grandmother’s pale face anxiously. ‘How far away is Crianlarich?’ she asked,

      ‘Twelve miles, but it’s a good road. He’ll be a wee while yet; ye’d best have a cup of tea while waiting.’

      She drank her tea gratefully, applied more cold cloths, and made quiet, heartening small talk—to be interrupted suddenly by Mrs Macdonald.

      ‘We are so near home…’

      ‘Would you like me to telephone Uncle Donald, Granny? Perhaps we could…?’

      ‘Certainly not. When your father saw fit to let Donald have his family home I washed my hands of the whole affair.’

      Rosie murmured a nothing. She knew that her grandmother had blamed her father for leaving Scotland, and that he had never told her how he had come to lose most of his capital and been forced to make the heart-rending decision to hand over the house to his prosperous cousin. Privately Rosie had never understood why her uncle couldn’t have lent her father the money to come about, but he was a hard man, made harder by the wealth he had acquired by marrying an heiress. She had never liked him anyway; years ago when she had been on a visit to his house she had come upon him beating one of his dogs. She had caught his arm and hung on to it and kicked his shins, calling him a brute, and then screaming at the top of her voice until several people came running to see what was the matter. He had never forgiven her for that.

      Her grandmother was looking alarmingly pale. Rosie