Read Chance Developments for Free Online

strangely liberating to describe Natalie MacNeil in this way, even if it was distinctly uncharitable.
    He laughed. “I think I can picture her rather well. But what was the problem?”
    “Boys,” said Flora, feeling slightly daring. She had never before had a conversation like this with a man—Father Sullivan, of course, did not count. “Her mind was full of boys.”
    “Ah,” said Richard Snow, smiling.
    They continued their conversation through the main course and into the dessert. Then, when they left the table for coffee, Richard Snow said, “Let’s go and sit by the window.”
    He told her what he did. “I have a small shipping firm,” he said. “It’s very small beer as these things go. We have five vessels—that’s all.”
    She asked him where they went.
    “They’re very unadventurous,” he said. “Glasgow to Hamburg. Leith to Stavanger. That sort of thing. We don’t go far.”
    “Do you suffer from sea-sickness?” she asked.
    He laughed. “I don’t actually go on the ships themselves,” he said. “I arrange the cargoes—that sort of thing.”
    She noticed the colour of his eyes, which was an attenuated hazel. She liked them. For his part, he was taken with her nose. It was perfectly proportioned, he thought. Some noses were just right—they were the right size and in the right place. Flora’s was such a nose.
    He said to her, “It’s Sunday tomorrow.”
    “Yes.”
    “Have you ever been to the Botanical Gardens here in Edinburgh?”
    She shook her head. She had visited so few places.
    “I wondered whether you might care to come with me there tomorrow? There’s going to be one of their lectures. One of the keepers is going to be talking about cactuses.”
    “Cactuses!”
    He smiled encouragingly. “I know not everyone’s interested in cactuses.”
    “But I am,” she assured him. “They’re fascinating plants.” Poor Sister Frances had kept a cactus in a pot near her window. It had never flowered, although Sister Bernadette had said it would. “Sometimes they flower only every ten years,” she had explained.
    “Well, then, you might find it interesting.”
    “Yes, I’d very much like to come with you. Thank you.”
    “Not at all.” He looked up at the ceiling. “Half past eleven? Where are you staying?”
    She thought quickly. “The North British Hotel.” It was directly above the station; she had seen it when she went up the steps. She would go back to Jenners, buy what she needed for an overnight stay, and then telephone her aunt to say that she was going to spend the night in Edinburgh. She had never stayed in a hotel before—not once—and the idea was strongly appealing. Why should she not? She had more than enough money to stay in any hotel she chose. She was free and she could do exactly as she wished. She liked Richard Snow and, she had decided, he showed every sign of enjoying her company. So it was not all that hard to find a man. On the contrary: she had come to Edinburgh and had found one within hours—a good-looking man with hazel eyes and an interest in cactuses. What more could anybody want?
    “I could come and pick you up at the hotel,” he said. “We’ll drive down there.”
    “Thank you. You said eleven thirty?”
    “Yes…” He hesitated. “I might be a little bit late—no more than five or ten minutes. I shall be at Mass, you see.”
    She caught her breath, but only for the shortest moment. It was a sign, or perhaps an enquiry. Was he testing her for prejudice—or for suitability?
I’m not a Protestant
, she thought.
I never even reached the start line.
It was destiny, she thought, and one should never fight destiny. Go along with it, and with the tides that carry you through life. They know where you’re going, and you do not. And then she thought: Some embraces last for life. Curiously enough, this realisation did not depress her; it was what she had rather expected.
    “I could meet you there. What are the times?”
    She saw the