A Debt of Honour – Episode 20
A Debt Of Honour
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- 1. A Debt of Honour – Episode 20
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“Neil,” she began quietly. “I want to tell you how sorry I am, and have always been, for what happened.
“I hope it didn’t cause more than just a temporary hurt. It was thoughtless and I’m ever so sorry.”
Neil straightened in his chair.
“I’m not,” he replied.
“Pardon?”
“I’m not in the least bit sorry. It changed my entire life. It made me stand back and take a long, hard look at myself.
“I saw how boring I was – I’m not surprised that you chose someone else. I was studying for a job I didn’t want.
“Which, looking back, was rising through dead men’s shoes so that one day I might be made the manager of some local bank, then spend the rest of my life preaching prudence to everybody.”
Neil signalled the waitress for more wine.
“So I took the plunge, with my dad supporting me at first. When I got the bank qualification, I used it to get into university.
“Then I picked Biology, the most interesting subject on the curriculum, and studied that instead.”
“But ‘professor’?” Shauna asked.
Neil shrugged.
“By accident almost. Doing what I thought I would enjoy.
“Like applying for a technician’s job on an international research team heading to Antarctica.
“Then I fell in love with the sheer primal majesty of the place, so I went back again and again, leading research studies, publishing papers.
“I was one of the first to wave warning flags about the effects of global warming, not just on the ice shelf and glaciers, but on sea temperature and the food chain,” he continued.
“Then I became well enough known to be offered a job in a top university.” He smiled.
“I’ve had a great life. And it’s all down to you.”
“I wish I could believe that,” Shauna remarked.
Neil solemnly ran a finger across his chest.
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” he intoned. “You helped me to find myself.”
It was their most solemn childhood oath: strangely, it didn’t seem out of place in this sophisticated bar in an Edinburgh side street.
Shauna forced a smile.
“If I did, even by accident, then I’m glad.”
Neil sipped his wine.
“And what about you?” he asked quietly. “Did things work out as you hoped?”
He paused.
“You don’t have to answer that.”
Shauna picked up a sandwich crumb and placed it tidily on her plate.
“We did better than we deserved,” she finally replied. “The good things outweighed the bad – as in any marriage.”
“Then I’m glad,” Neil said.
Shauna looked up.
“There was no bad in Davey. He was all heart and impulse, be it right or wrong.
“He was a wonderful dad to the kids. He spoiled them rotten and vanished when they needed discipline. They thought the world of him.”
She frowned.
“But how on earth did you find out that Davey had died, then arrange to send me money?”
Neil smiled.
“It’s a small world,” he replied. “Almost a village at times. Do you remember the Lockharts, from further up Small Crescent?”
“No,” she admitted. “What about them?”
“They were on holiday in Brisbane. Their relatives knew you distantly and had heard that your husband had died suddenly.
“So when the Lockharts came home, they told my mum – and she told me.”
This was the moment, Shauna thought.
Reaching for her handbag, she drew out the envelope.
As she looked up and caught his eyes watching, the long-prepared speech went clean out of her mind.
Dumbly, she held out the envelope.
He took it, frowning.
“What is it?”
“It’s yours,” she murmured.
He looked at her quizzically.
“The address seems to have been written in a hurry.”
“I was breaking the law,” Shauna explained. “Or else I’d never have found you.”
He frowned as she explained. Then he laughed.
“You stole my address from the undertakers?” he said. “You scribbled it down while no-one was looking?”
“Jean Ferguson left the address in front of me. She couldn’t tell me because of data protection.”
“Of course. But why was she so sympathetic?”
“I told her the story. It was her way of helping.”
“What story?”
“How I walked out on you and chased a stranger over to Australia. I scared him half to death when I turned up at his sheep ranch.
“How we struggled, even when we moved to the city for better work when Charlie came.”
“Charlie?”
“My son. He’s racing-car mad – and the top mechanic of a professional rally team.
“He spends his life inside engines, trying to get the last ounce of speed out of them when they’re already travelling too fast.”
Neil nodded.
“Every lad’s dream,” he commented. “But where does this envelope fit in?”
“Open it.”