Sure enough, the Wikipedia version of Lucía’s early life and her rise to fame closely matched what Chilly had told me. And as he couldn’t read and had probably never laid eyes on a computer, it was doubtful he’d cribbed any detail. I read up to the point where she’d danced at the Bar de Manquet in Barcelona and decided to go no further. It was better if Chilly told me himself, but at least I knew now that I could check his story was real, and that we were family.
‘So,’ I said to my reflection in the mirror, ‘it looks like you do have gypsy blood.’ And in all sorts of ways, I thought as I went up to the Lodge to collect Chilly’s lunch, it explained a lot. On my way to his cabin, I stopped once more by the copse to search for the white stag, but it was deserted, so I continued onwards.
Unusually, when I opened the door to the cabin, Chilly was not in his chair. Instead, he was asleep, and the cabin was freezing. I tiptoed over to the bed, already aware that he was alive, due to the grunts and murmurs emanating from it.
‘Chilly? Are you okay?’ I said, looking down at him.
He half-opened one eye, glared at me, then used a hand to brush me away. Then he coughed, a cavernous rattling sound that came from deep in his chest. The cough went on and on until it sounded as though he was choking.
‘Let’s sit you up, Chilly,’ I said, panicking. ‘It might help.’
He was too busy coughing to stop me, so I put my arms around his shoulders, and heaved him and his pillow up. He was as light and floppy as a rag doll, and when I touched his forehead, I found he was burning up with fever.
Just like Felipe . . . I thought.
‘Chilly, you’re sick. That cough’s awful, and I’m going to radio for a doctor now.’
‘No!’ A trembling finger pointed towards the dresser. ‘Use herbs; I tell you which and you do boil them,’ he rasped.
‘Really? I think this is the moment for proper medical help.’
‘Do like I tell you, or go!’ His eyes, already tinged red from fever, blazed at me. Another coughing fit ensued and I brought him a glass of water and made him sip it.
With Chilly directing me, I took star anise, caraway, thyme and eucalyptus from the dresser, then lit the gas flame and put water and the ingredients into a pot. I left it simmering, then fished out a clean rag from the dresser, dampened it and went to press it against his forehead just as Ma had done when I was a child and so often sick in bed.
‘I had asthma really badly when I was small,’ I told him. ‘I was always getting terrible coughs.’
‘Another sickness do come for you,’ he muttered, his eyes rolling back in their sockets as they tended to when he was having a moment.
He dozed off and I sat by his bed, contemplating what he’d just said to me and hoping he just meant a cold. It also struck me that it was all very well hearing about my apparently famous grandmother, but who had my mother been? And if Lucía Albaycín was such a star when she got older, she must have been quite rich too, so presumably it wasn’t financial circumstances that had led to me being given away?
The herbs and spices – which had filled the cabin with an almost antiseptic smell – had turned the water a murky brown colour. I took the pot off the gas burner and poured the concoction into Chilly’s tin mug.
‘Chilly, it’s ready. You need to wake up and drink it.’
He took some rousing, but I managed to put the mug to his lips and he took small sips until the mug was empty.
‘Be okay now, Hotchiwitchi.’ He smiled, patted my hand and closed his eyes again. I decided that I’d give him an hour to see if his potion had brought down the raging temperature, and if it hadn’t, I’d radio Cal to call the doctor.
It was snowing again outside, the flakes obscuring the light from the tiny windows as they piled up on the sill. I wondered yet again how on earth Chilly had survived for all these years here, alone. But then he’d say that he wasn’t alone – that the trees, the wind, and the birds talked to him and kept him company.
It was interesting how most people I knew found silence impossible. They drowned it out with music, TV or chat. Yet I loved it, because it allowed you to hear the silence properly, which of course wasn’t silence at all, but a cacophony of natural sounds: the birds singing, the leaves on the trees rustling in the breeze, the wind and the rain . . . I closed my eyes and listened, hearing a faint tapping as the snowflakes fell against the windowpane, like fairies trying to gain entry . . .
I must have fallen asleep too, exhausted as I was from last night, because before I knew it, I felt a hand on my arm.
‘Fever gone now, Hotchiwitchi. Give me more and you do go.’
The light had grown dim, and as I reached over to check Chilly’s forehead, which was now as cool as my own, I saw too that his eyes had cleared and were looking at me with something akin to affection. He coughed, and I heard the continuing deep rattle in his chest.
‘I will, yes, but I don’t like the sound of that cough, Chilly,’ I replied as I got up and went to the dresser. ‘It sounds as if you need an inhaler and maybe some antibiotics.’
‘Man medicine is poison!’ he said for the umpteenth time.
‘Man medicine has saved countless lives, Chilly. Look at the age we’re all living to these days.’
‘Look at me!’ Chilly beat his chest weakly, like an ancient Tarzan. ‘I do same without any!’
‘True, but then we all know that you’re special,’ I said as I lit the gas flame to warm the smelly potion up.
There was silence from Chilly, which was unusual.
Eventually he spoke. ‘You are special too, Hotchiwitchi. You’ll see.’
I braved the swirling snow outside, wondering whether I’d actually manage to find my way home or was stuck here for the night, and collected some logs to re-stoke the fire, as well as bringing in the radio pack from the Land Rover. When the brew was ready, I held the cup for Chilly so he could sip it.
He refused my help and held it himself, his grasp shaking a little, but it was obvious that he was much better than he’d been earlier.
‘You get home before dark. Bad weather.’
‘I’m going to leave my radio pack with you, Chilly. Do you know how to use it?’
‘No. Take it away. If my time here is gone, it’s gone.’
‘Chilly, if you tell me that, I really can’t leave you.’
He grinned at the expression on my face then shook his head. ‘Hotchiwitchi, not my time yet. But when it is . . .’ He grabbed my hand suddenly. ‘You will know.’
‘Don’t say that, Chilly, please. Now, if you’re sure, I’d better go before it gets properly dark. I’ll be back to see you tomorrow first thing. Whatever you say, I’m leaving the radio pack with you. Just press either button and Cal or me will answer the call at the other end. Promise?’
‘Promise.’
There was a real blizzard outside now, and my heart bumped unnaturally as I navigated Beryl through the curtain of snow. I drew the car to a halt, searching for what was road and what was burn, iced over and covered with a snowy topping. I knew if I strayed off course, the frozen water would not be strong enough to take a Land Rover’s weight.
‘Shit!’ As my heart rate crept up, I decided that I’d try to turn round and go back to Chilly’s until the blizzard abated, but I realised I couldn’t do that now either, because the river might only be a few centimetres away to my left and I could easily back straight into it.
‘And you left the radio at Chilly’s, you stupid woman,’ I admonished myself, my teeth now chattering with cold and fear.
Just when I was resigning myself to slowly freezing to death, I saw a pair of bright headlights in the distance. Five minutes later, Zed’s brand-new Range Rover appeared next to my car. I was filled with relief and trepidation as the driver climbed out and made his way over to me.
‘Thank God!’ both Cal and I said together as he heaved open the door.
‘Why didn’t you radio?’ he asked me as he virtually carried me to the warmth of th
e newer car and turned the heating up full-blast.
‘I left it at Chilly’s,’ I said as Cal did a scary three-point turn and we set off, the wipers at full pelt. ‘He was ill.’
‘Jesus, Tig! Yae know the first rule here is to always have the radio pack with you! D’you know how worried I’ve been when you didnae answer?! You could ha’ died out here! It’s a miracle I found you in this!’
‘Sorry,’ I said, my frozen hands and feet tingling as warmth began to flood back through them.
‘When you didnae come back, I went tae Zed and begged tae borrow his smart new car. I’d reckon this piece o’ steel has saved your life tonight.’
‘I’ll go and thank him tomorrow,’ I said. ‘And thank you, Cal,’ I added as he helped me out and into the cottage. ‘I’m really, really sorry.’
Later, as Cal piled my bed with blankets, made me a hot toddy and a hot-water bottle, I thought how blessed I was to have him. Never mind spirit guides, I seemed to have my own protector here on earth.
17
I was relieved that the only ill effect I suffered from after my night in the blizzard was a chill, which eventually turned into a stinking cough and cold.
‘Chilly was right again,’ I said to Cal over breakfast a few days later. ‘He said I’d be sick. How is he?’
‘Och, right as rain now. He was worried about you though.’
‘I’m fine, really,’ I said, though I still felt drained, probably from all the coughing and sneezing. ‘Are you okay?’ I asked him. ‘You’ve been a bit quiet in the last couple of days.’
‘No, Tig, I’m not. The Laird had promised a visit today and has just cancelled on me again. I had a list as long as my arm of stuff I wanted tae talk to him about, including gettin’ a replacement for Beryl.’
‘I presume you mean the car, not the housekeeper?’ I smiled at him.
‘Hah! It’s nae a laughin’ matter, Tig. If I hadn’t found you that night, and wi’ Beryl having no heating, you could have died o’ hypothermia. Ditto, this cottage; it’s freezing too. Caitlin told me I had to ask for proper central heating. Aye, I told her, any budget’s been spent on the poncey house tae please her ladyship and the guests. An’ it’s just not fair on the staff.’
‘Cal MacKenzie, Kinnaird Shop Steward,’ I commented wryly.
‘Afore I go back tae my potholes, I’m calling him and booking a telephone meeting. Charlie’s not going tae wriggle out of his responsibilities again.’
‘Maybe you could ask him what he wants me to do, while you’re at it? I’ve got no proper work other than to throw in kill to the cats, and let’s face it, Lochie could be doing that on a permanent basis.’
‘Yes, but I’ll nae talk you out of a job, Tig,’ he said as he left.
Half an hour later, I lit a fire and settled on the sofa with Thistle; me reading a book, Thistle snoring loudly. I noticed his breathing sounded noisier than usual and that he gave a couple of little coughs in his sleep.
‘I hope you haven’t caught my cold,’ I said, stroking his ears to soothe him.
There was a sharp rap on the door and, immediately, Thistle bounded off the sofa and began to growl.
‘Heel,’ I ordered him, and he came to me reluctantly. ‘Sit!’ I said as I opened the door to see Zed standing there.
‘Hi,’ I said, knowing I had to at least thank him. ‘Come in.’
‘Is it safe?’ he asked, as Thistle continued to emit a low growl.
‘I’ll get his lead and hold him on that,’ I said, not prepared to put him outside after what had happened last time. I reached for where I’d hung the lead on the peg beside the door and fastened it onto his collar. ‘Come on, Thistle.’ I dragged him across the floor to the sofa.
‘First of all,’ I said as I sat down, ‘thank you so much for letting Cal use the Range Rover to rescue me. And also, for these.’ I indicated the new flowers on the windowsill, which had turned up on my doorstep a couple of days ago. ‘They really cheered me up.’
‘Did they? Then I am happy. So,’ he continued as he sat down gingerly in the chair next to the fire, eyeing Thistle warily, ‘I hear the Laird is not coming up to Kinnaird today after all? What a shame, I was looking forward to meeting him.’
‘So was I,’ I said. ‘I had lots of things to discuss with him and so did Cal.’
‘It must be difficult when you have an absentee boss, I would imagine.’
‘Yes, it can be, but Charlie has another job – he’s a cardiac surgeon in Inverness. So it’s difficult for him too.’
‘One thing my father taught me was never to spread yourself too thinly, to concentrate on one thing at a time, and give that all your energy,’ Zed murmured.
‘Charlie’s not got much of a choice just now. He can’t just walk away from his patients, can he?’
‘What about his employees here? It has been obvious since the moment I arrived that this estate is understaffed, and, without a captain at the tiller, effectively rudderless too. I mean, even though I am physically here at Kinnaird, I spend at least six hours a day – sometimes more – communicating by phone or email with my staff.’
‘Charlie can hardly do that in the middle of open heart surgery,’ I said, hearing the defensiveness in my voice.
‘Agreed. So, he has to decide what he wants to do, and soon. I looked into the estate’s accounts a couple of days ago and it is running at a huge loss. In reality, it is bankrupt.’
‘How on earth did you look at the accounts?’ I asked him, horrified.
‘Anything is accessible online, if you know where to look. It is a limited company, registered at Companies House.’
‘Oh,’ I said, although that still didn’t explain why he’d looked them up in the first place.
‘So, how long is your contract here?’
‘Three months, but Charlie said it would almost definitely be extended.’
‘Right. Although looking at those accounts and the loan he took out to refurbish the Lodge, I do wonder how he is going to pay his electricity bills, let alone his staff next month. Tiggy’ – Zed leant towards me – ‘I will come straight to the point. I have a position coming up in my company that I wanted to discuss with you.’
‘Oh, well, I’m afraid I know nothing about communications and technology and stuff.’
‘I know you don’t, and nor do I want you to. That is my department. This particular department – newly created by me – comes under the Lightning Communications global charity fund.’
‘And what does that consist of?’
‘It is about giving something back to the world from what I have taken out of it. I will be honest and tell you that my father did not have a good track record. Most people in the business community regarded him as a crook – and I am sure that, to become as successful as he did from nothing, takes some subterfuge. But now that I am in charge, I can assure you it has all stopped. I am not my father, Tiggy, and I want to build myself a much more positive media profile. You and our conversations have inspired me; what better way to do that than to start a charitable fund? In short, I want you to run the wildlife charity division for me.’
‘I . . . goodness! But—’
‘Please hear me out before you speak. My accountant assures me there is plenty of money available – charitable donations are tax deductible, so the budget is very healthy indeed. Millions, in fact, which would be at your disposal to do as you thought best with. You would choose the projects, and of course, you would be the charity’s spokesperson, because you would be the only one who would know what she was talking about. And you are very photogenic as well.’ He smiled as he made his fingers into a frame and peered through it at me. ‘I can just picture the photo on the first presentation slide when we have the launch. You looking up at a giraffe somewhere out in the African savannah.’ Zed slapped his thighs. ‘Good or not? So . . . what do you think, Tiggy? Does the idea appeal to you?’
Did the idea appeal to me?! Having millions to spend as I chose around the world, s
afeguarding the future of rare breeds, protecting vulnerable animals and having a real platform from which to speak out about their suffering. Elephants hunted for their tusks, mink farmed for their fur, tigers shot to become a trophy rug . . .
‘Tiggy? Are you listening?’
I brought myself back to reality, and stared at Zed across the table.
‘It sounds amazing. I mean,’ I breathed, ‘amazing!’
‘Good, I am glad you think that.’
‘But why me? I’m just . . . well, the cat-sitter at the moment.’
‘Taygete D’Aplièse,’ he chuckled, ‘I looked you up online as well. I happen to know that you won a major prize for achieving the top marks in Europe for your final zoology dissertation. There was a photograph of you in the Tribune de Genève with your trophy. You were then offered various high-profile positions, and decided on Servion Zoo, before you left after six months and came here to Scotland.’
I felt even more invaded by him, but I also understood why Zed had checked me out. ‘Yes, but it doesn’t mean I have the kind of experience you’d need for such a major undertaking.’
‘One of your problems is that currently you do not realise or utilise your potential. You’re twenty-six years old, only eighteen months out of university. I have spent the last few months weeding out the dead wood that my father employed for far too long. All the new people who work for me are young like you and not hampered by their past. The world is changing, Tiggy, and I need people around me who can look to the future, who have the energy, drive and the passion to succeed, just like their boss.’
I looked at him then and wondered if he’d ever thought of becoming an inspirational speaker. He was certainly on the verge of convincing me.
‘I know you mentioned your passion for Africa,’ he continued. ‘It would certainly fit my brief. Big game is sexy – it gets a lot of coverage in the media. Yes, there would be some commuting between there and Manhattan where my headquarters are based, but I will include first-class travel in your package, along with a six-figure salary, accommodation, oh, and a company car – with heating,’ he chuckled.
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