Greyfriars House

by Emma Fraser

‘Is that why you’re here? To stay with your aunts? Didn’t your husband have family that could take you in?’

  ‘They live in America. I have no desire to go so far away.’ She wished Agnes would stop asking difficult questions. ‘And Greyfriars is my home, after all.’

  ‘We heard your poor parents died in the war. You have been through it, haven’t you?’

  The kindness in her voice made tears burn behind Olivia’s eyes. She blinked them away. Agnes’s sympathy, at least in part, was undeserved.

  ‘What about you?’ Olivia asked, eager to turn the conversation from herself. ‘Are you married?’

  ‘Och, no. Not found anyone yet. No one I can imagine spending the rest of my days with at any rate.’ She covered her mouth with her hand. ‘There I go again. Putting my big foot in it.’

  ‘How is your mother?’ Olivia remembered Agnes’s mother had been the summer cook at Greyfriars that last holiday.

  ‘Didn’t you recognise her? That was her who showed you to your room last night. Not that she recognised you either – you being grown up and all.’ Agnes perched on the side of Olivia’s bed. ‘Mum and Dad took the inn over after the war. I’ve always helped them out. And as soon as I left school, I started working here full time. I do the rooms when we have people staying and anything else that’s required. But to tell you the truth, I’m dying to get away from Balcreen. I’ve known all the boys here since I was a wee girl and they hold no interest for me – not in that way. No, I’d like to go and work in Edinburgh or Glasgow. In a boarding house or one of the hotels. Bound to meet someone more interesting then.’

  How could Agnes bear to leave her parents? Olivia would have given anything to have hers alive and nearby. The thought was followed by a deep stab of shame. But then they would have known that she’d let them down.

  ‘Your mother and father would miss you if you left.’

  ‘No, they won’t. They’re getting too old to run the inn so they’ve sold it and are going to Canada to live with my sister. I have no wish to stay on here. I met the new landlady when she came to see the place. She’s a bossy boots, that one. She’d have me running around doing all the donkey work while she queened it over me and painted her nails. Besides, this place won’t be the same without Mam and Dad. Mam and I have our moments but she’s not bad at heart.’ The look of love in Agnes’s eyes told Olivia she minded more than she was letting on and Olivia felt a pang of empathy for her.

  ‘Why don’t you go with them? To Canada, I mean?’

  ‘My sister and I have never really got on. Anyway, it’s time I made my own way in life.’ She grinned and her eyes lit up. ‘There’s a whole world out there just waiting for Agnes MacKay!’

  Olivia smiled back. This was more like the Agnes she remembered. Agnes didn’t seem to have changed at all. She was still the same girl looking for adventure. ‘I should get up and dressed. I need to get to Greyfriars.’

  ‘Och, you’ll not be getting anyone to take you across there until the wind dies down. Some time this afternoon, I expect. I can telephone Duncan the taxi and put him on standby if you like. He’ll come and fetch you in his car when it calms down. In the meantime, you stay in bed. I’ll bring up your breakfast. Mum does a great fry-up.’

  Olivia’s stomach clenched and she clamped her hand over her mouth. Suddenly, she didn’t know how, Agnes had one hand holding her hair out of her face, while at the same time she held a wash basin under her chin. Agnes waited patiently, whispering soothing words of comfort until Olivia stopped being sick. When Agnes was certain Olivia had nothing left to bring up, she wiped her face with a facecloth and towelled it dry.

  ‘Perhaps not a fry-up then. Some porridge and dry toast instead and a big pot of tea. You lie back and try and nap while I see to it.’

  A short while later, Olivia had closed her eyes but had been too on edge to go back to sleep. Agnes knocked and bumped open the door with her hip. She put the tray she was carrying on the chest of drawers.

  ‘I telephoned Duncan. He says he’ll be along when the weather improves. But are you sure you shouldn’t stay here with us for a night or two longer? We could have a right old natter. I could ask Duncan to take a message to your aunts to let them know where you are and that you’ve been delayed. I would have telephoned them but they don’t have a phone. Not many people here do, apart from us.’

  ‘They are at Greyfriars though?’ Olivia asked. It was only now that it occurred to her that they might not be. They could be holidaying for all she knew. Might not even be in the country. But even if they weren’t and the house had been shut up, someone would have a key.

  ‘Oh, aye. Where else would they be? Not left that place in years, neither they have.’

  So they were still at Greyfriars. Olivia wasn’t altogether sure if she were relieved or disappointed.

  ‘I’d like to see the look on their faces when you turn up,’ Agnes continued, straightening and tidying the already neat room and hanging Olivia’s clothes in the wardrobe. ‘You must be the first visitor they’ve had at Greyfriars since they came back from the war.’

  It was only then that Olivia realised what Agnes had said earlier. About her aunts not having left Greyfriars in years. That couldn’t be right! She remembered the dances and parties, the days out on the yacht. Georgina was the most sociable person Olivia had ever met. And Edith, although she was quieter, had also appeared to enjoy company. She couldn’t imagine two women less likely to live alone on an island.

  ‘I can’t imagine they won’t be pleased to see you,’ Agnes continued, before Olivia had a chance to say anything, ‘although…’

  ‘Although what?’ Olivia prompted when Agnes faltered.

  ‘Nothing. Don’t mind me. I have no idea what they might think. No one’s talked to them since they came back to Kerista after the war. They didn’t even tell Mum they were coming back there to live. She would have gone over with me and a couple of other girls from the village to get Greyfriars ready for them. That house had been empty for years. Must have needed a good dusting and airing. When Mum heard that they were there, she did go over to ask them if they needed help – there are always folk looking for work around these parts – but Miss Edith acted most strangely. She told Mum that she and the other Miss Guthrie would manage perfectly well, that they had become used to managing on their own during the war, and preferred to live simply. She then went on to say that they weren’t receiving visitors – of any sort. Well I can tell you Mum’s nose was fair put out of joint. She’d taken on the inn by then, so she was only doing them a favour offering to get help because she’d worked there every summer up until the war started. They didn’t even invite her in! Folk thought that the war would change the way some folk looked down their noses at others because they had bigger houses or more money, but not in the Misses Guthrie’s case, oh no!’ Agnes hurried on, barely stopping to draw breath. ‘They were snobbier than they’d ever been. Mum was mortified the way they treated her that day.’ Agnes sniffed. ‘She couldn’t understand it. Good manners never cost anything and the Misses Guthrie always had beautiful manners – at least that’s what Mum said. She said Miss Georgina could be flighty, but she’d never treated the servants as if they were of no importance. Miss Edith was always more reserved, but she always spoke kindly to the people who worked at the house. Miss Edith never even asked after Mum’s family. She would have known Mum’s brothers had been in the war. It was as if she couldn’t wait to get rid of Mum.’

  Her aunts’ treatment of her mother still clearly rankled with Agnes. It certainly was very odd. Olivia couldn’t imagine how they’d manage Greyfriars without help.

  ‘They’ve never even stepped a foot off the island since they arrived,’ Agnes continued, shaking her head and making her curls bounce.

  ‘What? Never?’

  ‘Not as far as anyone knows. They have all their shopping delivered by Lovatt’s the shop. And they never got around to employing a daily, even though they must know there’s plenty who would b
e grateful for the work and that house is too big for two ladies to manage on their own. Folk think they’ve gone a bit queer in the head.’ Agnes flushed. ‘Sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. Them being your aunts…’

  There had to be an explanation for their behaviour, although what, Olivia couldn’t imagine. A shiver of disquiet ran up her spine. What if they turned her away too?

  Chapter Sixteen

  It was late afternoon before Agnes told Olivia that Duncan, the driver, had come for her. The heavy rain had eased to a fine drizzle but it was still very cold and Olivia’s headache had returned, worse than ever.

  Duncan had a mop of curly brown hair and kind eyes. When she gave the address, his eyebrows rose.

  ‘Greyfriars House, eh? Well, well. Can’t remember the last time anyone visited there. Never taken anyone over myself, at any road.’

  So everyone appeared to take great pains to tell her.

  ‘You know Greyfriars?’ she asked.

  ‘My Uncle Donald was a ghillie there before the war. He spoke of it often.’

  ‘Donald! Is he still alive?’

  ‘No, he passed away a couple of years ago. It was very sudden.’

  ‘I am sorry. I remember him from when I was a child. He was very kind to me.’

  ‘Even if he hadn’t told me, a family like that was bound to stick out in these parts. Place was empty during the war, but after – can’t mind how long after – the Misses Guthrie came back to live there. We were all surprised. The family only ever used it during the summer. Now you’ve turned up. We didn’t even know there were any family left. Thought it was just the Misses Guthrie.’

  Olivia stared out of the window. It was all very odd but there was no point in pondering the change in her aunts. Her headache continued to pound and she felt nauseous again. It had to be the anxiety of being turned away. But surely they wouldn’t. They might not have kept in touch but they were still her aunts. Her mother’s sisters. That had to mean something. She massaged her temples. Once that first meeting was over, she’d feel a lot better.

  ‘I’m surprised they didn’t let me know there was a visitor needing taking across. You see it’s me who takes their groceries over once a week on the wee boat and they would have left me a note.’

  Olivia’s heart plummeted. Her letter couldn’t have reached them. Well, it was too late now. She was here. There were no trains back to Edinburgh. Not until Monday. If necessary she could go back to the inn. But what then? She couldn’t think. Her headache was so bad, her vision was blurring.

  ‘But you’ll take me now?’ she asked.

  Duncan rubbed his chin. ‘Dare say I could. Wouldn’t take long. Don’t know how else you’d manage.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m sorry to put you out. It’s not a very nice day, is it?’

  He caught her eyes in the rear-view mirror. ‘It’s as good as we get here at this time of year. Wait you until the real storms start. We’ve been lucky to have missed them so far. But on a good day, there’s nowhere like it. Just you wait and see.’

  As if to belie his words, heavy rain started to fall again, obscuring the limited view she’d had from the car window with a sheet of water.

  They had only gone a few yards when he came to a stop. ‘You stay inside where it’s nice and dry. I just need to pop into the shop to let them know I’ll be a while yet. Unless you’d care to come in and have a cup of tea? The wife would be happy to oblige, I’m sure.’

  ‘No, thank you.’ The last thing she wanted was to face a barrage of questions she couldn’t answer without lying. Besides, she wasn’t sure that if she did manage to swallow even a tiny sip of tea that it wouldn’t come straight back up.

  While she waited for Duncan to return she wound down the window. Although cold rain blew in, stinging her face, the fresh air eased her nausea a bit. She only had to hold on a little longer. When Duncan returned a few minutes later he was carrying something. More cold air rushed in with him as he settled himself in front of the wheel. He set a pair of orange oilskins down on the passenger seat.

  ‘They might be a little big for you but they’ll be better than nothing. Wife wanted to come out to ask you in but I told her you’d already said no. That you were keen to get to your destination. She says I’m to tell you to make sure you stop by if you’re in the village.’

  The car pulled away with a jerk, sending a flash of pain through her head as if her brain was bouncing around inside her skull. Happily, it was only a short time later when Duncan pulled over again. The rain had stopped and as the sun slid out from behind a cloud, a final hurrah before disappearing again, it bathed the land in a warm golden glow.

  ‘Now that’s the west coast weather for you,’ Duncan said cheerfully. ‘Still, I suggest you put on the oilskins I brought for you. Just as likely to rain again before I’ve got you to the house.’

  Olivia eyed the garments he was holding out to her. Duncan wasn’t a large man but they’d still swamp her. It was bad enough appearing on her aunts’ doorstep, having invited herself, without looking like a waif and stray.

  ‘If it rains again I’ll put them on,’ she said. ‘But if I remember correctly it only takes a few minutes on the boat to get across.’

  ‘Ten in fine weather, fifteen when there’s a swell like there is today.’ He grinned through tobacco-stained teeth. ‘At the very least use the trousers to sit on, it’ll keep your bottom dry. And sling the jacket over your shoulders. You’re so wee it’ll probably cover most of you anyway.’

  As he’d predicted, the rain began to fall again, heavier than before. She put the oilskin jacket on and placed the trousers over the seat nearest the prow. Duncan stepped in after her and pushed the small boat away from the pier.

  Something flew past her head – a bat or a bird – and she ducked, smothering a cry behind her hand. Her heart missed a beat, making her feel more light-headed than ever. All she wanted was to get indoors, out of the rain and lie down until the dreadful feeling of nausea and the pain in her head had passed. Clutching the oilskin jacket closed with one hand and the side of the boat with the other, she tried to stop shivering. As she huddled deeper into Duncan’s jacket, she made herself imagine she was already in Greyfriars, tucked up in bed, sipping a cup of tea, a hot water bottle at her feet, her aunts smiling down at her.

  They must have been in their early to mid-twenties when she’d last seen them, so what did that make them now? In their early to mid-thirties. Far too young to be living so far away from anyone and anything.

  She summoned up a picture of her aunts that last summer – Georgina in her long, tight-fitting ruby red dress, and Edith in blue velvet. She couldn’t imagine either woman being anything else but still glamorous and beautiful. Her chest tightened. Mother had been beautiful too.

  The oars clunked with each dip in the water, the dull lap, lap of the sea against the boat, the harsh cry of seagulls circling above; each sound a painful stab to her head, the rise and fall of the boat exacerbating her queasiness.

  Mercifully, it wasn’t long before Duncan drew up beside the pier and leapt out to tie the boat to the post. Even in the poor light she could see that it was rotting and should be replaced. He reached out a hand to help her from the boat and, as she waited for him to retrieve her suitcase, she shrugged out of the borrowed oilskin and peered towards the house. At one time she would have had a decent view of Greyfriars from where she stood, but now, if she hadn’t known the house was there she might never have guessed. When she was here last, there was a distinct path but now it was barely visible, overgrown as it was by rhododendrons, their branches, thick with leaves, obscuring the house. As she walked through the tunnel in the hedge the wind whipped at the branches so that they moved and swayed, reaching out to her like gnarled, skeleton hands, catching at her clothes like witches’ fingers. Behind her, she could hear Duncan’s laboured breathing and stifled expletives and was glad he hadn’t left her on the pier to make her own way.

  Suddenly the path through the rhodod
endrons came to an end and she stopped, shocked. There it was, Greyfriars! But a far cry from the way she remembered.

  Admittedly she’d only ever been here in the summer and it was bound to be different in the winter – but this different?

  The once manicured lawn was overgrown and covered in weeds. A shutter hung off one of the second-floor windows, banging forlornly in the wind. Ivy, brown and stringy, clambered up the front of the house, almost obscuring the downstairs windows. Water streamed from one of the gutters.

  She’d expected the house to be lit up the way she remembered from her childhood, but it was in darkness, apart from a single light flickering from one of the upstairs rooms. She had an eerie, creepy sense of unwelcome and, for a moment, she was tempted to ask Duncan to take her back to the Balcreen Inn. Then she remembered the words her father had written all those years ago. People like them did not – and never would – run away.

  She took a deep breath, continued through the ankle-high grass and up to the front door, tugged on the round brass knob and heard it jangle. At least the bell still worked.