Not needing to dress, because I was still in my jumper and filthy jeans, I pulled on an extra cardigan, my boots, beanie and ski jacket. I walked into the heavily beamed sitting room, which also housed a generous inglenook fireplace. Grabbing the torch that Cal had shown me hung on a hook by the front door, I switched it on and braced myself to venture outside. Navigating my way by torchlight and memory, I went to the large barn that contained a cold room, to fetch the pigeon and rabbit carcasses to feed the cats. As I entered, I noticed Thistle, asleep on a bale of straw in one corner. At my approach, he roused himself and stretched sleepily before ambling across to greet me on his impossibly long legs and shoving his pointed nose into the palm of my outstretched hand. As I looked into his intelligent brown eyes, fringed with grey fur that gave the almost comical impression of shaggy overgrown eyebrows, my heart melted.
‘Come on, boy. Let’s see if we can find you something to eat too.’
After retrieving the cats’ food and selecting a juicy bone from the slab for Thistle, I made my way outside again. Thistle attempted to follow me, but I reluctantly pushed him back into the barn.
‘Maybe another day, darling,’ I told him. I couldn’t risk spooking the cats when they’d only just arrived.
I walked across the frosted lawn and down the slope towards the enclosures. The inky blackness of the sky was the most intense I’d ever seen – without a chink of human-made light. Using the torch to guide me down the slope, I reached the entrance to the enclosures.
‘Molly?’ I whispered into the darkness. ‘Igor? Posy? Polson?’ I turned the handle out of habit, then I remembered that here, where visitors might come in the future, there was a keypad above the lock to prevent people entering the enclosures at random and disturbing the cats. Forcing my brain to remember the code that Cal had told me, I pressed what I thought was the right combination, and on the third try there was a small click and the gate finally slid open. I closed it behind me.
I called the cats’ names again, but there was nothing; not the faintest sound of a paw on a crackling leaf. With four huge pavilions, the cats could be anywhere and they were all obviously in hiding, probably sulking.
‘Hey, guys, it’s me, Tiggy,’ I whispered into the utterly silent air, my breath appearing in misty waves in front of me. ‘I’m here, and there’s no need to be afraid. You’re safe, I promise you. I’m here with you,’ I reiterated, then waited again to see if they’d respond to my voice. They didn’t, and after investigating each pavilion and listening for as long as I could without dying of exposure, I distributed the kill, exited through the gate, and walked back up the slope.
*
‘Where ha’ you been so bright and early?’ Cal asked me as he emerged from the tiny kitchen with steaming cups of tea for us both.
‘I went to check on the cats, but they didn’t come out. The poor things are probably terrified, but at least they heard my voice.’
‘As you know, I’m not a fan o’ cats in general. Selfish, scratchy, antisocial buggers whose loyalty lies with whoever feeds ’em. Give me a dog like Thistle any day,’ Cal commented.
‘I saw him in the barn this morning, I gave him a bone from the cold room,’ I admitted, sipping the strong brew. ‘Does he always sleep there?’
‘Aye, he’s a working dog, like I said, not some pampered townie pooch.’
‘Couldn’t he sleep in the cottage sometimes? It’s awfully cold out there.’
‘Och, Tig, you’re too much of a softie. He’s used to it,’ Cal admonished me mildly as he walked back towards the kitchen. ‘Want some toast and jam?’
‘I’d love some, thanks,’ I called, as I entered my bedroom and knelt down in front of Alice’s cage to open the gate. I saw two bright eyes peering out of the little wooden hut she liked to burrow in. One of her tiny legs had been badly broken in her fall down the rabbit hole and had never fully recovered. She limped around her cage like a pensioner, even though she was less than a few months old.
‘Good morning, Alice,’ I whispered. ‘How did you sleep? How about some cucumber?’
I went back into the kitchen to retrieve the cucumber from the fridge – which I saw needed a thorough clean to remove the green tinge of mould from the back and the shelves. I also noticed the sink was full of dirty pots and pans. I pulled the toast out of the grill and spread it with margarine on the cramped work surface, which was littered with what must have been a good week’s worth of breadcrumbs.
Typical man, I thought to myself. Even though I wasn’t anal about cleanliness, this was beyond my tolerance levels and my fingers itched to set to work. After feeding Alice, I sat with Cal at the small table in the corner of the sitting room and ate my toast.
‘So what do yae usually give the cats o’ a morning?’ he enquired.
‘Today, I threw in the pigeons and a couple of the rabbits I brought with me.’
‘Well, I’ve got a mound o’ deer hearts for yae stored away in the freezer. I’ll show yae – it’s in a shed in the courtyard at the back o’ the Lodge.’
‘They’ll love those, Cal, thanks.’
‘I don’t get it, Tig. You say you’re a vegan, so how can yae cope with handlin’ dead meat every day?’
‘Because it’s nature, Cal. Humans are evolved enough to make conscious decisions about our diet and we have plenty of alternative food sources to keep us alive, whereas animals don’t. Alice eats meat because that’s what her species does, and likewise the cats. It’s just the way it is, though I admit I’m not a fan of handling deer hearts. The heart is the essence of us all, really, isn’t it?’
‘I cannae comment; I’m a man and I like the taste of red meat between my teeth, be it offal or the best cut o’ steak.’ Cal wagged his finger at me. ‘And I’m warning you, Tig, I’ll never evolve, I’m a carnivore through an’ through.’
‘I promise that I won’t try to convert you, though I will draw the line at cooking you lamb chops and stuff.’
‘Besides, I thought all you Frenchies loved your red meat?’
‘I’m Swiss, not French, so maybe that explains it,’ I countered with a grin.
‘Margaret told me you’re also a bit o’ a boffin, aren’t yae, Tig, with your degree an’ all? I’m sure you could be getting a well-paid, high-flyin’ job in some lab, instead of nurse-maiding a few mangy cats. Why Kinnaird?’
‘Actually I did work in a zoo lab analysing data for a few months. The money was good but I was miserable. It’s the quality of your life that counts, isn’t it?’
‘Aye, given what I’m paid for all the back-breaking hours I work, I need tae believe that!’ Cal gave a deep chuckle. ‘Well, it’s good you’re here, I’ll be glad o’ the company.’
‘I thought I’d give the cottage a spring-clean today, if that’s okay.’
‘It could do with it an’ that’s for sure. Thanks, Tig. I’ll be seeing yae later.’
With that, he shrugged on his old Barbour and stomped towards the door.
*
I spent the rest of the morning down with the cats – or, in reality, without them, because no matter how much I looked for them in the dens carefully concealed in the foliage, I couldn’t spot them.
‘What a disaster it would be if my charges died in the first week,’ I said to Cal when he popped into the cottage at lunchtime for one of his mega sandwiches. ‘They’re not touching their food.’
‘Aye, that it would be,’ he grunted, ‘but they looked like they had enough fat on them tae sustain them for a few days at least. They’ll settle down, Tig.’
‘I hope so, I really do. Anyway, I need to do some shopping for food and cleaning supplies,’ I said. ‘Where’s the nearest place for that?’
‘I’ll come with you tae the local shop now. Give you a driving lesson – Beryl takes some getting used tae.’
I spent the next hour navigating Beryl and learning her eccentricities as we drove to the local shop and back. The shop proved a disappointment, selling goodness knows how many varie
ties of shortbread for passing tourists, but not much else. At least I was able to get potatoes, cabbage and carrots, some salted peanuts and lots of baked beans for protein.
Back at the cottage, Cal left me to it, but having searched for a mop and a broom with no success, I decided there was nothing for it but to go up and ask Beryl if she had some equipment I could borrow. I walked across the courtyard towards the back door of the Lodge. Knocking brought no response, so I opened the door and stepped inside.
‘Beryl? It’s Tiggy from the cottage! Are you here?’ I called as I walked along the passage towards the kitchen.
‘I’m upstairs, dear, sorting out the new daily,’ came a voice from above. ‘I’ll be down in a few seconds. Go and put the kettle on in the kitchen, will you?’
I followed Beryl’s instructions and was just searching for a teapot when she walked in with a whey-faced young woman, who was wearing an apron and a pair of rubber gloves.
‘This is Alison, who’ll be keeping the Lodge spick and span when the guests arrive at Christmas. Won’t you, Alison?’ Beryl spoke slowly, enunciating her words, as if the girl was hard of hearing.
‘Yes, Mrs McGurk, tha’ I will.’
‘Right, Alison, I’ll see you tomorrow morning at eight sharp. There’s a lot to be done before the Laird arrives.’
‘Yes, Mrs McGurk,’ the girl repeated, looking positively terrified of her new boss. She nodded a goodbye then scurried out of the kitchen.
‘Dearie me,’ commented Beryl as she opened a cupboard and pulled out a teapot. ‘Not blessed with brains is our Alison, but neither am I blessed with a wide choice of staff round these parts. At least she can walk to work from her parents’ croft, which – during the winter – means everything.’
‘Do you live close by?’ I asked Beryl as she spooned tea leaves into the pot.
‘In a cottage just across the glen. I presume you don’t take milk with your tea?’
‘No.’
‘Is a piece of my homemade Millionaire’s Shortbread allowed? It does have butter in it.’ Beryl indicated a tempting rack of biscuits covered in thick layers of caramel and chocolate. ‘After all, the local dairy is on the doorstep and I can personally vouch for the fact that the cows are very well cared for.’
‘Then thanks, I’d love a piece,’ I said, deciding now was not the time to try to explain it was the fact that newborn calves were torn from their mothers, who were continually kept pregnant to provide unnatural levels of milk for humans, that I objected to. ‘It’s mainly meat and fish I absolutely won’t eat. I do have the occasional lapse when it comes to dairy; I love milk chocolate,’ I admitted.
‘Don’t we all?’ Beryl handed me a slice on a plate with a glimmer of a smile and I felt we had taken a tiny step towards bonding, even if it was at the expense of my principles. ‘So, how are you coping at the cottage?’
‘Well,’ I said, savouring every bite of the fabulously buttery shortbread, ‘I’ve come to ask if you had a mop and broom and possibly a vacuum cleaner I could borrow so I could give it a good clean?’
‘I have indeed. Men do seem to enjoy living like pigs in their own muck, don’t they?’
‘Some men, yes, though my father was one of the most fastidious people I’ve ever known. Nothing was ever out of place, and he made his own bed every morning, even though he had – we had – a housekeeper to do it for us.’
Beryl eyed me as though she was reassessing my status. ‘So you’re from gentry, are you?’
It was a word I wasn’t familiar with. ‘What does that mean?’
‘Sorry, Tiggy, your English is so good that I forget you must be French, from that accent I hear.’
‘I’m Swiss actually, but my native language is French, yes.’
‘I meant that I was wondering if you come from nobility,’ said Beryl. ‘Given the fact that you say you had a housekeeper.’
‘No, or at least, I don’t think so. Me and my five sisters were adopted by my father as babies, you see.’
‘Is that so? How fascinating. Has your father told you where you were originally from?’
‘Sadly he died just over five months ago, but he left each of us a letter. Mine tells me exactly where he found me.’
‘And will you go to this place?’
‘I’m not sure. I’m just happy being me – I mean, the “me” I’ve always been, and having wonderful memories of my sisters and adoptive father.’
‘And you don’t want anything to disrupt those?’ said Beryl.
‘No, I don’t think I do.’
‘Who knows? One day you may wish to, but for now, I’m sorry for your loss. Now, the mops and brooms are in the cupboard down the passageway on your left. You can take what you need, as long as you bring them back when you’re finished with them.’
‘Thank you, Beryl,’ I said, touched by her words of comfort about Pa.
‘Anything else you require to make that cottage of yours more habitable, let me know. Now, I must radio Ben, our handyman, and get him to top up Chilly’s firewood.’
‘He’s the old gypsy who lives on the estate?’
‘That’s him.’
‘Margaret said I should meet him.’
‘Well, he’s always in, dear. He’s doubled up with arthritis, and how he survives the winters out there in the glen, I’ll never know. At least he has his log cabin that the new Laird built him in the summer. It’s insulated, so he’s warm.’
‘That was kind of Ch—the Laird.’
‘Well, I’ve already said to him that for Chilly’s own safety, he really should be moved into the village by the social services. The problem is, every time they’ve made the trek out to assess him, he’s gone into hiding and no one can find him. Next time they come, I’m not going to give him any warning,’ Beryl sniffed. ‘It also means that one of us has to check on him every day, take him food and fill up his log basket. As if we don’t have enough to do. Anyway’ – Beryl reached for the radio pack – ‘I must get on.’
After collecting a mop, broom and vacuum cleaner, I manhandled them across the yard, not helped by Thistle crisscrossing excitedly in front of me.
‘Hey, Tig,’ came a voice from the bowels of the shed in the courtyard. ‘I’m in here, boiling a couple of stag heads. You putting a brew on any time soon?’
‘Yup, but you’ll have to come out of there and get it – there’s no way I’m setting foot inside while you’re doing that,’ I called back.
‘Cheers, Tig, two sugars, please.’
‘Yes, your Lordship,’ I replied. ‘I’ll just put my bucket and mop down, if you don’t mind.’ I bobbed a curtsey before opening the door to the cottage.
4
It was only two weeks until Christmas and the days had further shortened ahead of the winter solstice. Despite the frost at the windows, it had not yet snowed, and I was pleased I had managed to make the cottage far more cosy than it had been. Beryl had appeared with armfuls of pretty floral curtains the day after I’d borrowed her mop, vacuum and broom.
‘Take your pick,’ she’d told me. ‘These used to hang in the Lodge before it was refurbished, and they were too good to throw out. There’s some rugs going spare as well – a bit moth-eaten, but they’d add some warmth to those flagstone floors. Tell Cal there’s an old leather chair in the barn that would go nicely by that fire.’
‘Quite the little homemaker, aren’t you?’ Cal had chuckled when he’d seen the newly redecorated sitting room.
Despite myself, I’d enjoyed the process, because I’d never had a proper home of my own. Now, sitting in front of the huge fire in the evening in the worn leather chair with Cal lying on the sofa, was a pleasure. Although he’d initially ignored Alice, Cal had now fallen under her spell, and often he’d take her from the cage and have her curl up contentedly in his large palm. It upset me slightly that he was happy to have Alice as a house guest, but continued to draw the line at Thistle.
‘Are yae goin’ back to your family for Christmas?’ he asked me
as we ate breakfast together, the frost around the windowpane framing the spectacular glen beneath us.
‘I was originally thinking I might go home to Switzerland for a couple of days, but with the cats still so unsettled, I don’t think I can. All I’d do is fret, and besides, none of my sisters are going home this year either, so it would be really weird to be there without them and Pa.’
‘Where do they all live?’
‘Maia, the eldest, is in Brazil, Ally is in Norway, Star is down in the south of England, CeCe has apparently taken off on one of her adventures, and Electra, my little sister . . . well, she could be anywhere. She’s a model. You might have heard of her. Most people have.’
‘You don’t mean the Electra? Like, the one who’s even taller than me and is always on the front of the papers half-naked and hangin’ on to a rock-star?’
‘Yup, that’s the one,’ I confirmed.
‘Wow, Tig! You’re a wee bundle o’ surprises, aren’t you?’ He studied me closely. ‘Nope, you don’t look anything like her.’
‘We were all adopted, if you remember, Cal,’ I giggled. ‘We don’t share an ounce of blood between us.’
‘Aye, o’ course,’ he said. ‘Well, tell Electra that if she ever fancies visiting her sis, I’d be happy to escort her down tae the local for a few drams o’ whisky.’
‘I’ll tell her next time I speak to her,’ I replied, and seeing the stars in his eyes, I briskly changed the subject. ‘So, what are you doing at Christmas?’
‘What I do every year. I’ll be with my family in Dornoch. You’d be welcome at ours, Tiggy. You’re hardly going tae hog all the turkey, are you?’ he chuckled.
‘That’s really kind of you, Cal, but I still haven’t made a final decision. I feel bad that none of us will be there for Ma, the lady who’s taken care of us since we were small. Maybe I should invite her over here,’ I mused.
‘Was your “Ma” married tae your daddy?’
‘No, though she might as well have been. Not in an intimate sense,’ I explained hurriedly. ‘She was employed by him as a nanny for us all when we were growing up and she’s never left.’
The Moon Sister Page 4