Getting Acquainted

Chapter Thirty-One

On Friday morning they slept a bit longer than usual. After eating breakfast in her bathrobe with the Scotts, Margaret went upstairs to get dressed. She had a dress Iain had not seen before, a very beautiful but unadorned white one. "What a day," she sighed humorously. "A white dress in the morning and a green one at night. Purity and inexperience..."

"As long as you look well in them," said Mrs. Scott, who had come to help her. "Surely your green one will no longer be so befitting by the time you wear it."

Margaret coloured deeply at the notion of experience. "Er. Oh."

"We'll take Ailsa with us to visit Robert for the weekend. She won't be around."

"Oh." It was rather interesting how Ailsa's absence was connected to gaining experience. Mrs. Scott must know how these things worked -- which was a stupid thought, because Mrs. Scott was married. Of course she knew how it worked.

"We thought you two might appreciate that." Nothing would happen if there was an audience to witness it. They were hardly the type to stop caring altogether. Being married would help, but they would not throw all caution to the wind.

"Er." Margaret thought she did, but she dared not say so, because it would imply that she had plans. She did not. She was merely not going to oppose any plans Iain might have. Last night and with regard to the kiss, at least, Iain had seemed to be the planning type, but perhaps after the kiss he was all planned out.

"I thought so."

"I am not planning on..." She inhaled audibly as she thought of the idea. "Er. We have the ball to go to." They could not allow themselves to be too distracted beforehand.

"We're not talking six minutes, but six hours." Mrs. Scott decided not to worry Margaret unnecessarily. Six hours was more than enough to prepare for the ball, even if they were also tempted to spend time with each other.

Margaret was told the men had already left, so she had to walk with Mrs. Scott. She felt rather conspicuous in her white dress, but they did not encounter anybody who could stare. Fortunately it was a quiet village. Arriving at their destination, she felt a sudden nervousness. "Did Iain bring all the things we need?" She had not brought any, passive creature that she was.

"The rings? Oh yes, he wouldn't give them to me. Is something bad engraved in them?" His mother thought that whatever was engraved in them might be on the romantic side for Iain, because he had refused to let her do as much as hold them. She had only been allowed a quick peek of the outside, not the inside. It had amused her tremendously.

"Very bad. I think he might be embarrassed if I told you. Whew!" Margaret's face lit up when she thought of the words in the rings. She stepped inside and met Iain with a smile. "Wow." He looked gorgeous. She would not have any trouble kissing the bridegroom at the end, for as long as he had planned, but that thought made her blush. It was too early for that.

Iain had got his hair cut before he had gone here, so he knew he looked a little different at least, but to receive such a greeting was always flattering. He felt tempted to say the same thing back, but he was never very good at those spontaneous exclamations, so he only smiled. He took her hand and led her into the room.

"I guess it's poetic justice," said Kirsty to her mother. She had arrived for the post-wedding brunch only and was now observing her brother. "When they loosen up they get all icky sticky." Since her arrival she had, apart from when they had greeted her, only seen Iain and Margaret firmly attached at the hip, the shoulder and wherever else it might be possible.

"It was a lovely kiss," said her mother, whose romantic expectations had been met completely.

"Not too perfunctory either, I'm guessing," Kirsty deduced from how the couple was sitting.

"No, although it was less than ten minutes."

"But more than five?" Kirsty gulped. "That Iain. Who would have thought it? Oh, Mum! They've come loose!" she cried when Margaret stood up. "Better feed them some more superglue, the same they had for breakfast."

"I'll leave them a bottle when we go to Robert's," Mrs. Scott promised. "Although I don't think it's really necessary, if that kiss was anything to go by." They had behaved exactly as newlyweds ought and when everybody else was gone, they would continue to behave like that.

"I should have come," Kirsty said in regret. "But I thought it'd be all stiff and proper and that I'd be in the way of romantic developments."

"Ha, it may have looked that way, but it was a very proper kiss and not at all stiff. It was a bit long to be properly proper. It took almost as long as the entire ceremony. Stuart and Ailsa got bored with it."

Chapter Thirty-Two

Iain had not been to work for four weeks. He wondered if anyone still remembered whom he would be taking as his date. Chances were that they did not. Maybe it had been a passing joke, like so many others. He helped his date out of the car.

"I don't need to be helped," she protested.

"But it looks good if I do." And he wanted to make sure she did not run away. He did not know why he felt the need to prevent that. There was no reason why she would.

"I'm coming with you, even if you don't pull me," she chided him gently. "I'm not going to turn back or reconsider now." His attitude amused her. She was nervous too. It was quite something to be exposed to all his colleagues, who would all gawk and gape and speculate on how close they were, especially if they came in late, such as now.

It turned out to be harder than foreseen to be ready on time. Changing in and out of dresses and all the activities in between had taken rather a lot of time, more than either of them could have imagined. Suddenly it had been very late and Margaret felt as if everyone could infer just what they had been doing only half an hour ago.

Iain looked proud of his companion. Her dark green dress looked extremely good on her, as did that adorable blush. He could not help looking smug when a car parked beside his.

The car produced Peters, whose face slowly appeared open-mouthed above the roof of his car. "It's Margaret Maxwell!"

"Duh," said Margaret, feeling like one of Ailsa's friends. "As intellectually dwarfish as that sounds, it looks like I fit right in with you lot." Maybe this Ball could be all right, if all colleagues were as manageable as this fellow and not like Iain.

"I keep my word, Peters," Iain replied. So much for Margaret's promise that she would keep her mouth shut. Some opportunities were too good to pass up, however. He had counted on that and not thought she would be shy and silent.

"How much did it cost you to achieve that?" Peters wanted to know.

Margaret stared at him. Hello! One could only imagine what he would say about her behind her back. It had to be even worse. They could say this to a screen and she would not hear it, but he was now saying this in her presence and there was nothing wrong with her ears. She was not for hire.

She recovered herself. "I have special rates for Scottish hotties," she said with a wink. That was guaranteed to make Iain cringe, so she laid an arm across his waist reassuringly. He blushed becomingly, but that was what she liked. "I cannot wait to be exposed to more of your colleagues. Peters, you're not even the dullest knife, you're a spoon."

It was time to move on. Iain stepped away before Mrs. Peters could get out of the car and get involved, although she was probably someone who would not. Still, a vacuous and puzzled expression was guaranteed to bring out the worst in Margaret as well. "A spoon!" he said when they were sufficiently far away. "Where do you get these things?"

"I'm sorry, Iain," she said contritely. "I promised to keep my mouth shut. I swear I keep my word in other cases."

"Oh, I don't mind. Just don't call me a hottie in company."

"Is that DCI Scott?" Lisa Randall craned her neck to catch a glimpse of the couple being stalled at the entrance. "He really came?" she asked disbelievingly. She had never thought he would and not having seen him for four weeks meant that she had not been able to ask. Kirsty had claimed not to know anything, so she had deduced that Kirsty had either been sworn to secrecy about the relationship, or she preferred not to speak about it.

Her husband followed her eyes. "It looks like he did."

"Did he bring Margaret?" Surely by now the relationship had to have come to something. He had had four weeks and he would never have taken them off if he had had no plans in that direction.

"Who's Margaret?" He was always supposed to know who people were after Lisa had mentioned their names and their vague connections once.

"I told you about her! Margaret Maxwell? It's the woman he fell for during our last case! And he fell so hard that he has to have brought her."

Paul Randall studied the woman near the entrance. Now that Lisa mentioned it, he indeed remembered something in that vein. "I can't see her face." The woman was looking the other way.

"Oh, that's her, yes," Lisa breathed when she caught a better glimpse. "People will be ... surprised."

Chapter Thirty-Three

There was a slight problem, Iain discovered, when he handed his invitation to the woman standing behind the desk at the entrance to the dining room. He wondered why there was someone there to check anyway. Nobody could possibly want to crash this party.

The woman frowned at the invitation and then stared at him and Margaret as if there was something wrong. "Do you only have one invitation, sir?"

"Yes, only one."

"I'm afraid you should have had two, sir," she said with an uncertain glance at Margaret after she had checked a list. "You cannot bring extra guests."

Iain was patient. "I'm not bringing an extra guest. This is my partner. I clearly indicated that I'd bring someone. When Sylvia forced me to fill in the form."

She still looked puzzled. "But you're not on my list as two people, only as one."

"But you can see we are two people." Iain remained calm. He was not too keen on attending anyway. "If they won't let us in, we'll just go home," he said to Margaret. He would have done his duty and tried. It was not his fault if they refused to let him in.

"Just a second, sir," said the woman, who had just noticed his rank on her list. She might get into trouble if she sent him away. This was not a lowly police constable.

Iain saw she headed for Sylvia, who, after a whisper in her ear, turned towards the entrance to gape in horror. He wondered where the arrangements had gone wrong, since Sylvia had clearly been excited after he had filled in his form and she would never forget.

Sylvia left her table. "Oh my god, oh my god," she kept saying nervously. "You really came!"

"Iain, do you always have this effect on people?" Margaret was intrigued. There was not much that linked her to her alter ego except her trademark green, although this strapless dress was somewhat more daring than her habitual buttoned-up blouses. Her hair was done differently and she was not wearing glasses because she did not need them in real life. Somehow the producers were always going for a cross between an army drill instructor and a strict schoolmistress. She might not even be recognised right away.

"And you brought her!" Sylvia looked from Iain to Margaret. "Margaret Maxwell!" she said in awe. "Oh my god. The real one."

Margaret thought the woman might not survive a correction, so she kept her marital status to herself. "Oh my god, yes!" So much for being unrecognisable, then.

"I said I would, Sylvia," said Iain, still as patient as before, save for a kick at Margaret's legs.

"I know, I know! Oh my god! I did print out two invitations! I really did! But the Super...oh my god."

"Oh my god! The Super didn't believe you!" Margaret exclaimed. This was turning into a farce. She glanced around the corner into the dining room. Most people were talking to their table companions, but some had noticed that something was going on near the entrance. She saw Lisa Randall and gave her a giggly wave.

"I'll talk to the Super," Sylvia decided. "It's his fault! He made me throw the invitation away." Completely agitated, she walked to one of the tables.

"Oh my god! What will happen now?" Margaret asked Iain. He had far too much faith in people's common sense, because he was acting as if there was no problem at all.

"No idea," he said carelessly. The idea of spending the evening at home with Margaret was very appealing as well.

Superintendent Brown, Divisional Commander, himself came up to the entrance. Sylvia had been sent back to her table. "Detective Chief Inspector Scott..." he began.

Margaret had to get herself out of the Sylvia-mode that had been so easy to slip in to, suppressing the urge to cry something dramatic about Iain's rank. She stared back at the man when he appraised her, supposing he was Iain's boss. He was older and he did look somewhat boss-like.

"Sir," said Iain.

"You appear to have brought someone," the Super said, still eyeing Margaret.

"Yes, me," Margaret spoke up before Iain could lower himself to reverence. She did not particularly care about ranks, nor about men who spoke about her as if she was not present. She never minded to let them know she was in full possession of her wits and that she was a decoration who could actually speak. It was the dress. The more skin one showed, the less intelligence one was presumed to have, but bare arms, shoulders and collar bones did not mean anything.

"But I understand you only received one invitation." He spoke to Iain again, as if he did not quite know what to do about Margaret's interruption.

"I understand you had mine thrown away," she said. There was no way she would allow him to lie about this. He should not ignore her either.

He had obviously not expected her to say or even know that and he looked rather uncomfortable. "There might have been a misunderstanding." The Super remembered the form the DCI had filled out and for which he had been reprimanded. Sylvia said he had brought Margaret Maxwell. He could not quite recall what she looked like, but he had thought she was older and less attractive.

The DCI might have had a girlfriend nobody knew about or this might indeed be the Margaret Maxwell he had indicated he would bring -- something nobody had believed, including himself. He had spoken too soon to Scott in that case, but the man had not said anything back at the time. He had only suffered the speech.

Although if the woman said he had hers thrown away, she would indeed be the real Margaret Maxwell, because that was the invitation he had ordered Sylvia to tear up. While it might be amusing to print out invitations for Mickey Mouse and the like, he wanted to get rid of that annoying habit of his subordinates altogether.

Now that Margaret Maxwell was not on the same plane as Mickey Mouse, there was nothing to do except to solve the problem. "My apologies for the misunderstanding," the Super said smoothly. "Please follow me to our table. You're sitting with me."

He could discover later where DCI Scott had found her and whether this had been before or after he had indicated that he would bring her.

The news soon spread and people stared. DCI Scott had brought Margaret Maxwell. Most people had forgotten about the joke already until they saw her come in and then the rumour spread like a fire. She turned many a head with her nice dress, but she did not see it. She waved her wedding ring at Lisa, but she was not sure Lisa noticed.

Iain's boss did not know they were married. Margaret wondered why Iain had not told him that, but she left it up to him to sort that out.

They were introduced to Mrs. Brown and another couple, Chief Inspector Wilson and his wife. Wilson was a little older than Iain, she would guess. In his forties, perhaps. She was getting the hang of the hierarchy here. Her being at the Browns' table with Chief Inspectors, Detectives or not, was significant.

Since it was the Superintendent who took care of the introductions, Margaret remained Margaret Maxwell. Again Iain did not speak up. She supposed they were to have fun with this then, but she had better be cautious. She had promised him to be silent and sweet, after all. Although she was not extremely chatty by nature, she could never refrain from opening her mouth in response to stupidity.

Chapter Thirty-Four

"How were your four weeks?" The Super inquired. Interestingly they had not seen anything of DCI Scott in the meantime. He had not stopped by at all, when previously it had always been hard to send him home. People tended to think he had nothing to do at home for all the time he spent at work.

What had not changed was his reticence about personal matters, however. Presumably he had met up with Ms Maxwell sometime, whom the Superintendent had snubbed unintentionally. Although, really, if Scott persisted in not going into detail about his relationship with the woman, he could not avoid some misunderstandings.

"Busy."

Brown wondered if there were any hard feelings about the reprimand. He would have to ask Scott about that another time when the ladies were not present. He had a feeling that Ms Maxwell had a definite opinion on the matter, one she was not afraid to voice. "Looking forward to starting again?"

"It'll be different," said Iain, but that proved to be a real conversation killer when he did not follow it up with an elaboration. They were stuck here until after dinner, when they could go downstairs to the ballroom and mingle. He would have to manage until then. "Excuse me. I'll just go and ask what cases there are."

"What happened to you?" Paul Randall asked when Iain came to their table. He relied more on Iain's own account than on Lisa's version, which would be embellished by her fantasy and wishful thinking. In the past minutes she had had a good time fantasising about her boss' private life, believing that her suppositions could not be anything but correct. Paul was not so sure.

Iain had not come to tell them about anything personal, although he deduced that they would like to be informed. He had come for an update on work. "Did anything interesting happen lately?"

"I think it all happened in your life, really, not at work," Lisa replied. "I see you've left the talking to Margaret. Is that why you fled?"

"What cases are you working on?" he persisted.

She was reluctant to discuss that now. Who would want to discuss work on Friday night at a ball? "You cannot leave Margaret in the hands of the Super." They had only just met. He should know that he could not do that. He had some social obligations.

Iain was not at all concerned about that. "It's the other way around. She'll manage."

"Even if you may have to protect the Super from her ... but how are things? Obviously you got her to ... er..." They were here together and they were almost radiant. She had never known the DCI could look radiant attending a ball. It was a pity she could not be too frank, because there were other people sitting at their table who did not know anything about this.

"Yes, that worked out all right."

"We would like to know how," said Paul. "Obviously Lisa thinks she knows how, but she's imagining and supposing a whole lot. If I must be informed of your personal affairs, I'd rather have the truth."

"I'm afraid it's not all that exciting."

"Did you see her often during the past weeks?" Lisa probed. "You must have gone out a few times. Dinner? Films?"

"My parents took us out to dinner once, but that's all." He could not remember if they had done any standard or even exciting things. It was not likely.

"Oh and what did your parents think of her?"

He shrugged. "They didn't tell me that."

"Of course, if you take after them they wouldn't be the type to do so, but you took her out only once in four weeks and your parents came along?" Lisa had some problems figuring out how that could have worked.

"No, my parents took us out. I didn't."

"You managed to get involved with her with your parents breathing down your neck?"

"If you call them being nearby breathing down my neck, then I suppose so."

Lisa gave up. It was useless trying to get anything out of him. She had better try it through Margaret. This could not possibly be the true story. "Paul would like to meet Margaret. Don't you, Paul?" She kicked him under the table, signifying that he had better not protest.

"Oh yes, I'm a fan," he said dutifully.

"Not because of the dress?" Iain asked warily. Many men might be fans of that dress alone.

"That too."

Chapter Thirty-Five

"Everyone knows he wrote down he was going to bring you, but it's rather shocking that he actually managed," said Wilson to break the silence.

"Who'd dare to say no to a policeman?" Margaret said cheekily.

"I thought you were an invention," said the Superintendent. "My apologies, Ms Maxwell. I had no reason to assume he knew you."

She smiled. "Well, until quite recently I didn't know him." She wondered if she should correct him and say she was Mrs. Scott, although that was really Iain's job. If she waited too long, the opportunity would have passed.

He was still not very happy about his faux-pas and sought some way to redeem himself when she did not sound averse to forgiving him. "You see, some officers who dislike it come up with inventions, but senior officers cannot always escape attending, no matter how much they dislike it. They have to take it with the appropriate degree of seriousness."

"Oh, is he senior?" she inquired. "At his age?"

"He is quite good at what he does."

"I know," she answered with a smile.

Suddenly he noticed a ring on her finger. It made him wonder. It very much looked like a simple wedding band. Reviewing their arrival and the introductions, he tried to figure out whether something had been kept from him deliberately. He recalled that he had taken care of the introductions himself, but that he had not been corrected.

On the other hand, he could not imagine DCI Scott proudly presenting his girlfriend or wife, introducing her as such, even as a correction. Scott must have been glad that it had happened this way, if the way he had fled the table when personal questions came up was anything to go by.

Brown shook his head involuntarily. For someone who disliked personal questions it must indeed be quite a chore to come here with a partner who might inspire such questions. The woman herself seemed more at ease with them, as well as with avoiding straight answers, but at any rate she did not appear to be out to make a fool of him. He had a feeling that he would not miss the fact if she did.

Of course, her wearing a wedding ring did not have to mean that her husband was Scott. The situation could be something else entirely, although she did seem rather fond of him.

Iain returned and looked at Margaret "Mr. Randall is a fan of yours and would like to meet you."

"Excuse me?" Margaret was puzzled. "I'm not going to have to do the fan round, do I? I hate that. There's a reason why you don't see much of me anywhere. I'm not tonight's special guest. You should have paid me a lot more for that." She would not mind meeting Lisa's husband, but people had better not get the idea that she was here as a celebrity.

"Yes, well..." Iain stuck out his tongue. "If you come with me now, you'll get more later."

Margaret stood up hastily. "I was actually joking, Iain, but you made it sound very suggestive," she said in concern when no one could hear them.

"Only to people with dirty minds," he responded. "I'm sure it was quite clear that you were joking."

"But what if people now think you're paying me in kind?"

"I'm sure they'll think me very lucky. Some men might even be jealous. I'm sure you know how the most stereotypical of them think. Well, Randall is the one with the blonde hair."

"Good!" Margaret smiled when she reached the Randalls. "Someone I don't have to be careful with. I promised Iain I'd shut up and look pretty. I might be able to keep that up if I can talk to you in the meantime."

"I don't know why he thinks you can pull that off," Lisa commented. "Oh. I'm sorry. I'm forgetting to introduce you. This is my husband, Paul. And this is Margaret Maxwell, Iain's ... er ... date?" She did not know how to put it now that they turned out to have had dinner only once.

Margaret solemnly shook hands with the man. "Nice to meet you. Actually it's Maggie Scott, Iain's wife." She had never expected that she would love saying that so much. If it did not sound stupid, she would have repeated it several times.

"Wife," Lisa repeated dumbly as she sat down again.

"Yes." Margaret pinched his bottom unobtrusively and looked up at Iain as radiantly as he looked down at her.

"I need to get used to this," Lisa said with a sickly expression. "Next thing will be that he's here for the dancing."

"Never," Iain reassured her amiably. He had known he could count on Margaret to break the news to people. She was much better at it than he was. She could do it with a wide and happy grin, whereas he might look embarrassed.

He hoped nobody had noticed what Margaret had just done to him. Other people might react worse than the Randalls. Lisa was incredulous and Paul was laughing his head off, and they had not even seen where Maggie's hand had gone. Or so he hoped. He was not sure about Paul.

"Wife!" Lisa said again.

Margaret smiled brightly. She thought she would head Lisa's questions off. "You know how I dislike uncommitted cavorting." She wondered if Iain was comfortable with this subject. He was silent. She gave him a glance, but he only seemed to be watching the rest of the room.

"Uncommitted what?" Lisa asked.

"Why are you surprised?" Iain said, not wanting to go into detail. "We knew what we wanted." He hoped he was now not implying that it was cavorting.

"I thought Margaret was ... slow."

"Margaret was inactive," Iain corrected. "However, when Margaret decides to be active, she is not slow." And she was not very shy either. She could talk about everything with such ease.

He made his wife giggle appreciatively. "Iain, I love you when you decide to be talkative."

"Otherwise you don't? I think we might have to go back to sit with the Super." He glanced at his boss, who was staring. Obviously they were not meant to walk around right before dinner was to start, or perhaps Brown felt ignored.

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