All I wanted to do was run outside and lose myself in the miracle of nature at its finest. I threw on my jeans and jumper, added my ski jacket, beanie and my pair of sturdy boots, then made my way downstairs to the front door. It was unlocked and as I stepped outside, I revelled in the ethereal earthly paradise spread in front of me, miraculously untouched by either humans or their habitations.
‘This is all mine,’ I whispered as I walked across the coarse, frost-crisp grass of the front lawn. I heard a rustle from the trees to my left and saw a young roe deer with its large pointed ears, long eyelashes and auburn spotted coat leaping lightly between them. Even though Margaret’s deer enclosure was large and fashioned as best she could to mimic their habitat while the deer were rehabilitated, it was closely fenced in. Here, at Kinnaird, the deer had thousands of acres in which to roam wild and free, even though they still faced peril from human predators, rather than their natural enemies of yesteryear.
Nothing in nature was safe, I mused, not even humans – the self-fashioned masters of the earth: with all our arrogance, we believed ourselves to be invincible. Yet I’d seen countless times how one mighty puff of wind from the gods in their heavens could wipe out thousands of us at a blow during tornados and hurricanes.
Halfway down the hill, I stopped beside a rushing stream, swollen with last night’s fresh rainfall. I breathed in the air and looked around me.
Could I live here for a while?
Yes, yes, yes! came my soul’s reply.
Yet even for me the total isolation was extreme: Kinnaird truly was another world. I knew my sisters would tell me I was mad to cut myself off here, that I should spend more time with people – preferably some suitable males – but that wasn’t what made my heart sing. Being in nature made me feel alive, made my senses sharpen and soar, as if I was rising above the earth and becoming part of the universe. Here at Kinnaird, I knew that the inner part of me that I hid from the world could blossom and grow as I woke each morning to the gift of this magical glen.
‘What do you think of me coming to Kinnaird, Pa?’ I asked the skies above me, fervently wishing I could make that vital, invisible connection with the person I loved most in the world. Yet again, I was talking to thin air, both physically and spiritually, and it was deeply upsetting.
A few hundred metres from the Lodge, I found myself staring down from a rocky crag into a sloping, heavily wooded area. It was a private spot, yet as I scrambled down the slope to investigate, it proved easily accessible. This was the perfect place for Molly, Igor, Posy and Polson – aka the four wildcats – to have their enclosures.
I spent some time walking the area, knowing that the wooded back slope would provide the feeling of security that the wildcats needed if they were to become comfortable enough to venture out and, eventually, to breed. It was only ten minutes from the Lodge and surrounding cottages – close enough for me to provide their daily rations, even in the depths of winter. Feeling pleased with my choice, I made my way back up the slope to the uneven, narrow path that obviously served as an access road through the glen.
Then I heard the sound of an engine chugging towards me and I turned to see Cal hanging out of the Land Rover window, relief on his face.
‘There yae are! Where’ve you been? Beryl had breakfast ready ages ago, but when she went tae call you in your room, she found it empty. She was convinced you’d been taken in the night by MacTavish the Reckless, the Lodge’s resident ghost.’
‘Oh gosh, I’m really sorry, Cal. It’s such a beautiful morning, I came out to explore. I also found the perfect spot to build the wildcat enclosure. It’s just down there.’ I pointed to the slope.
‘Then it was worth getting Beryl and her breakfast in a fuddle. Besides, it does her nae harm tae get her senses going, give her some excitement, if you know what I mean.’ Cal winked at me as I heaved the passenger door closed. ‘O’ course, the problem is that she believes she’s the real lady o’ the Lodge, and I cannae deny that, in many ways, she is. Climb in an’ I’ll give yae a lift back.’
I did so and we lurched off.
‘These roads get treacherous when it snows,’ Cal commented.
‘I’ve lived in Geneva all my life, so at least I’m used to driving in snow.’
‘That’s good then, as you’ll be seein’ a lot o’ it for months on end. Look.’ Cal pointed. ‘Just beyond the burn in that birch copse is where the stags like tae take shelter at night.’
‘That doesn’t look like it gives much protection,’ I said, looking at the sparse cluster of trees.
‘Aye, and that’s the trouble. Most of the natural woodland has gone from the glen. We’re startin’ tae reforest, but it’ll all need to be fenced off or the deer will nibble away the seedlings. It’s a huge job the new Laird’s undertaken. Och, Beryl, don’t do this.’ There was a grinding noise as Cal tried to shift the Land Rover into gear. The car juddered for a few seconds, then ran smoothly again.
‘“Beryl”?’ I repeated.
‘Aye,’ he chuckled, ‘named after our housekeeper herself; this Landy’s as tough as old boots, an’ mostly reliable, despite its hiccups.’
When Cal and I returned to the Lodge, I apologised profusely to the human Beryl for disappearing before breakfast, then felt obliged to work my way through the Marmite sandwiches she’d made for me – ‘in lieu of the breakfast you didn’t eat’. And I really wasn’t a Marmite fan.
‘I don’t think she likes me,’ I mumbled to Cal, as she left the kitchen and he helped me out by eating a couple of the doorstoppers.
‘Ah, Tig, the poor woman’s just stressed,’ Cal said sagely as his huge jaws demolished the sandwiches. ‘So now, what time train are yae thinkin’ o’ getting? There’s a 3.29, but it’s up to you.’
The ring of a telephone broke into the conversation, then stopped. Before I could answer Cal, Beryl arrived back in the kitchen.
‘The Laird wishes to speak to you, Tiggy. Is it a suitable time?’ she asked me.
‘Of course.’ I shrugged at Cal, then followed Beryl along the back corridor and into a small room that obviously served as an office.
‘I’ll leave you alone,’ she said, indicating the handset that lay on the desk. The door closed behind her.
‘Hello?’ I said into the receiver.
‘Hello, Tiggy. Apologies for not being able to join you up at Kinnaird. A couple of emergencies came up at the hospital.’
‘No problem, Charlie,’ I lied as I was disappointed.
‘So, what do you think of Kinnaird?’
‘I think . . . that it’s one of the most incredible places I’ve ever seen. It’s breathtaking, really, Charlie. Oh, and by the way, I think I’ve found the perfect place for the wildcats.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes.’ I explained where it was on the estate and the reasons behind my choice.
‘If you think it’s right, Tiggy, then I’m sure it is. So, what about you? Would you be happy to come with them?’
‘Well . . . I love it here,’ I said, smiling into the receiver. ‘In fact, I don’t just love it, I adore it.’
‘So, could you live there for a while?’
‘Yes,’ I replied without a pause. ‘Definitely.’
‘Then, well, that’s . . . fantastic! Cal in particular will be thrilled. I realise we haven’t talked money or terms yet – but are you happy for me to email you over something? Shall we say an initial period of three months?’
‘Yes, that’s fine, Charlie. I’ll read the email and reply.’
‘Great. I look forward to showing you round myself next time, but I hope Beryl made you feel comfortable in the Lodge.’
‘Oh, she did.’
‘Good. Well then, I’ll send that email and if you agree to come and work at Kinnaird, perhaps you could travel up with the wildcats at the beginning of December?’
‘That sounds perfect.’
After a polite goodbye, I ended the call, wondering whether I’d just made the best or worst de
cision of my life.
After I’d offered profuse ‘thank yous’ to Beryl for her hospitality, Cal gave me a quick glance at the rustic but charming cottage I’d share with him if I took the position. Then we climbed into Beryl the Land Rover and set off for Tain station.
‘So now, are yae comin’ up wi’ the cats or no?’ Cal asked me bluntly.
‘I am, yes.’
‘Thank the heavens for that!’ Cal thumped the wheel. ‘The cats are the last thing I needed on my plate, along wi’ everything else I have tae do.’
‘I’ll be arriving with them in December, which means you need to start organising the building of their enclosure.’
‘Aye, and I’ll need serious advice from you on that, Tig, but it’s great news you’re comin’. Are you sure you can cope with the isolation?’ he said as we bumped along the road that led out of the estate. ‘It’s no’ for everyone.’
At that moment, the sun chose to emerge from behind a cloud, lighting up the glen below us, which was swathed in an ethereal mist.
‘Oh yes, Cal.’ I smiled, feeling a bubble of excitement rise up inside me. ‘I know I can.’
3
The following month passed in a flash; a month that contained a lot of sad farewells as Margaret and I said painful goodbyes to our beloved animals. The deer, two red squirrels, hedgehogs, owls and our one remaining donkey were all seen off to their new homes. Margaret was far calmer about it than I was – I wept buckets after each one left.
‘’Tis the circle of life, Tiggy, it’s full of hellos and goodbyes and yae’d do well to understand that as soon as you can,’ she’d advised me.
Numerous emails and phone consultations concerning the wildcat enclosure ensued with Cal, who then engaged a company to construct it.
‘I’m tae spare no expense, apparently,’ Cal told me. ‘The Laird’s applied for a grant and is determined the cats should breed.’
From the photos he sent me, I could see it was state-of-the-art – a series of pavilion-like cages linked by narrow tunnels and surrounded by trees, vegetation and man-made hidey-holes for the cats to explore. There would be four pavilions in total so they could all claim their own territory and the females could be kept away from the males if and when they became pregnant.
I showed Margaret the photos as we had a glass of sherry on our final evening together. ‘Lord! They could house a couple o’ giraffes comfortably in there, let alone a few scrawny cats,’ she chuckled.
‘Charlie’s obviously dead serious about his breeding programme.’
‘Aye, well, he’s a perfectionist, our Charlie. Shame he had his dream snatched away when he was so young. I don’t think he’s fully recovered since.’
My ears pricked up. ‘From what?’
‘I shouldn’t ha’ mentioned it, but that sherry loosened my tongue. Let’s just say, he’s been unlucky in love. Lost a girl to another, then married that wife o’ his on the rebound.’
‘Have you met his wife?’
‘Only once in person, which was at their wedding over sixteen years back now. We exchanged a few words but I didn’t like the cut of her. She’s very beautiful, mind, but just like in the fairy tales, physical beauty doesn’t always translate intae inner beauty and Charlie always was naive when it came tae women. He was wed at twenty-one, in the third year of his medical degree at Edinburgh,’ Margaret sighed. ‘She was already pregnant with Zara, their daughter, y’see. I’d reckon Charlie’s whole life before that had been a reaction to his father’s behaviour. Medicine and marriage gave him an escape. Mebbe this is Charlie’s time now,’ said Margaret, taking a final swig of her sherry. ‘He’s certainly due it.’
*
The following morning, I fussed around in the back of Beryl the Land Rover, which currently contained Molly, Igor, Posy and Polson, who were yowling and screeching in protest from within their cat boxes. It had been a job and a half to get them loaded, and despite my thick jumper and heavy-duty gloves, my wrists and arms sported several deep scratches. Although Scottish wildcats are roughly the same size and colouring as domestic tabby cats, that is where the similarity ended. They weren’t known as ‘Highland tigers’ for nothing. Polson, in particular, had a tendency to bite first and ask questions later.
Yet despite their grumpy and often vicious natures, I loved them all. They were a small flicker of hope in a world where so many native species had given up the ghost. Margaret had told me that to prevent them from mating with domestic cats, several breeding programmes around Scotland aimed to produce purebred kittens in order to re-wild them at a later date. As I closed the doors on the cats’ growls of indignation, I felt the weight of responsibility as one of the guardians of their future.
Alice, my pet hedgehog – named so because she had fallen down a rabbit hole as a baby and I’d rescued her from Guinness the dog’s jaws as he pulled her out – was in her cardboard box on the front seat, along with my rucksack containing the few clothes I owned.
‘Ready to go?’ asked Cal, who was already sitting behind the wheel, eager to get off.
‘Yes,’ I gulped, knowing that I had to walk back into the house and say goodbye to Margaret, which would be the most heartbreaking moment of all. ‘Can you give me five minutes?’
Cal nodded in silent understanding as I ran back into the cottage.
‘Margaret? Where are you? Hello?’
She was nowhere to be seen, so I went in search of her outside and found her sitting on the ground in the centre of the empty wildcat enclosure, with Guinness and Button standing guard on either side of her. Her head was in her hands and her shoulders were shaking.
‘Margaret?’ I walked over to her, knelt down and put my arms around her. ‘Please don’t cry, or I know I will.’
‘I cannae help it, lassie. I’ve tried tae be brave, but today . . .’ She took her hands from her face and I saw her eyes were red-rimmed. ‘Well, today really is the end o’ an era, what with the cats and you leavin’.’
She reached out a gnarled, arthritic hand, the type one associates with evil witches in fairy tales, yet it conveyed the opposite: kindness itself.
‘You’ve been like a granddaughter tae me, Tiggy. I can never repay you for keeping my animals alive and well when I didn’t have the physical strength tae do it alone.’
‘I’ll come and see you in your new bungalow soon, promise. We’re not that far apart, after all.’ I took her in my arms and gave her a last hug. ‘It’s been a pleasure and I’ve learnt so much. Thank you, Margaret.’
‘The pleasure was all mine. And talkin’ o’ learning, you be sure to visit Chilly while you’re there. He’s an old gypsy who lives on the estate, and a regular goldmine about herbal remedies for animals an’ humans.’
‘I will. Goodbye for now, darling Margaret.’ I stood up and, knowing I was about to cry too, walked swiftly towards the gate. Cal appeared by my side.
‘You just make sure those cats o’ ours beget a few bonnie kittens, won’t you?’ Margaret called out as, with one last wave, I climbed up into Beryl and headed into the next chapter of my life.
*
‘This is your bedroom, Tig,’ said Cal, dumping my rucksack on the floor.
I looked around the small room, its low ceiling threaded with veiny cracks and bulges in the plaster, as if it was exhausted from holding up the roof above it. It was a) freezing cold and b) spartan, even in terms of what I was used to, but at least it contained a bed. And a chest of drawers, on top of which I placed Alice the hedgehog, still in her travelling box.
‘Can I bring her cage in here too?’ Cal offered. ‘I can’t cope wi’ her in the sitting room. If she escapes in the night, I might step on her an’ squash her by mistake on the way to the lavvy! Isn’t she meant tae be hibernatin’?’
‘She would be in the wild, but I can’t risk it,’ I explained. ‘She’s not put on enough weight since I rescued her and she’d never make it through the winter. I’ve got to keep her nice and warm, make sure she keeps feeding.’
‘Thanks so much for your help today, Cal. I couldn’t have got those cats down the slope to the enclosures by myself.’
‘Aye.’ Cal’s eyes swept over me. ‘You’re a wee fairy, aren’t you? Doubt I’ll be askin’ you tae help me mend fences or chop the wood for the fires this winter.’
‘I’m stronger than I look,’ I lied defensively, because I really wasn’t. Physically anyway.
‘Aye, well, I’m sure yae have other strengths, Tig.’ Cal indicated the cold, bare room. ‘This cottage needs a woman’s touch,’ he hinted. ‘I haven’t a clue.’
‘I’m sure we can make it more cosy.’
‘You want something tae eat? There’s some venison stew in the fridge.’
‘Er, no thank you, I’m a vegan actually, if you remember—’
‘O’ course. Well.’ He shrugged as I gave an enormous yawn. ‘Mebbe you need some sleep.’
‘I think I do.’
‘There’s a tub in the bathroom if you want a soak. I’ll wait until you’ve had the first hot water.’
‘Really, don’t worry. I’m for my bed now,’ I replied. ‘Night, Cal.’
‘Night, Tig.’
Finally the door closed behind him and I sank backwards onto what was a deceivingly comfortable and well-broken-in mattress, pulled the duvet over myself and fell asleep instantly.
*
I woke up at six o’clock – heeding both the freezing temperature and the call of my internal alarm. Turning on the light, I saw it was still pitch black outside and the inside of the windowpanes had frozen over.
The Moon Sister Page 3