Greyfriars House

by Emma Fraser

  I stood there for a while gazing up at the Milky Way and thinking about Mum but as I was about to turn away, I noticed a figure standing in the shadows of the copse close to the front of the house. Despite the starlight, it was too dark for me to make out their features. However, I had the distinct impression that whoever it was was looking up at my window. As I watched, the figure backed into the shadows.

  Was it Edith and was she sleepwalking? In which case I should fetch Georgina, but I had no idea which room was hers. It was easier to go after Edith myself. Staying by the window, I yanked my sweater over my head and was about to pull my jeans over my pyjama bottoms when another figure emerged from the house and scurried towards the trees. I sighed with relief. It had to be Georgina. She must have seen Edith and was going to bring her inside.

  Keeping my sweater on and adding socks, I retreated back to bed. I was still cold.

  If I were to stay here, even another night, I’d have to buy warmer clothes.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I was woken by the singing of the birds and therefore up a good hour before breakfast. I took Tiger outside. It was a crisp, beautiful day, the sky an endless blue dome with only the arrow plume of an aeroplane high in the sky to remind me that the modern world existed. I slipped through the gap in the rhododendrons, following the route to the shore Georgina and I had taken the day before. I walked up the hill at the centre of the island, following the steep path, Tiger at my heels. It wasn’t high, but one side dropped away sharply, eroded by the wind or time. It was probably why Georgina had advised me against climbing the hill.

  From here I could see all around the island and as far as the village of Balcreen. Down by the water’s edge an otter waddled across the rocks and into the sea. It was so peaceful and I was beginning to understand why Mum had loved it here so much. It wasn’t, however, a place I could imagine myself staying for any length of time. It wasn’t London and even if it weren’t for the fact London was where my work was, I thrived on the buzz of the city, liked having easy access to shops and restaurants, the coffee shops, museums and galleries. Not that I had been to many in the last few years. I intended to change that.

  But I didn’t want to think about London. To do so was to think about Lucy and make a decision about what I was going to do about her and Annette, and I was in no state of mind to decide something so important.

  At breakfast – tea, toast and deep-yellow-yolked boiled eggs – I told Georgina what I’d seen last night. There was no sign of Edith who was probably still in bed – ‘I’m assuming it was Edith? I was about to go down and lead her inside when I saw you.’

  Georgina gave me a startled look. ‘Oh,’ she said faintly.

  ‘I was taking a walk, that was all!’ Edith cried from the doorway. Once again, I hadn’t heard her approach. She trod so lightly. ‘Can’t I do that without being watched?’

  Georgina crossed over to her and patted her sister’s hand. ‘You’re bound to be unsettled,’ she said, before turning back to me. ‘Edith was never a good sleeper.’

  Edith took her place at the table, lifted her napkin and twisted it between her hands. ‘I don’t care to have guests and I like it even less when they spy on me! Tell her she mustn’t, Georgina!’

  ‘Of course Charlotte isn’t spying on anyone! The very thought, Edith!’

  ‘I’m just relieved it wasn’t Lady Elizabeth searching for her lost child.’

  Instead of laughing at my – albeit rather pathetic – attempt at lightening the atmosphere, Georgina frowned. ‘What on earth do you mean?’

  ‘Mum told me when she was last here she thought she heard a child’s footsteps and the sound of giggling. Sometimes she thought it must be the ghost of the drowned child. Mum always had a rich imagination.’

  It was said light-heartedly but I was unprepared for their reactions. Georgina paled and Edith flung her twisted napkin on the table.

  ‘All this chatter about old stories! And ghosts! You shouldn’t be snooping! This is not your house. Not yet. It’s us who should be watching you!’

  ‘Edith! Dear!’ Georgina exclaimed.

  Edith scraped back her chair although she hadn’t touched her breakfast. ‘I should get on. I have things to do.’ She hurried out without another word.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this uncomfortable.

  ‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to upset her. I wouldn’t have said anything about seeing her if I’d known she was listening.’

  ‘Edith likes to believe her sleepwalking days are over.’

  ‘I don’t think she’s at all happy that I’m here. I could stay in the inn in Balcreen, if you think that would be better?’

  ‘No! Please don’t think of it! Edith just needs time to get to know you. It’s been so long since we had company and she finds it unsettling. You’ll understand better why she is the way she is when I’ve told you everything. However, I should spend some time with her this morning. You and I can talk more later.’ She reached for my hand and covered it with her own. ‘Please stay a little longer.’

  Why not? It wasn’t as if I could go back to work just yet. And it was becoming increasingly clear to me that whatever was going on with the sisters was going to take longer to winkle out than I’d anticipated.

  ‘If you are sure my staying won’t upset Edith more?’

  ‘She knows it’s important that you’re here. She’s well aware Greyfriars is partly your house too.’

  But not home. I was trained to notice what wasn’t said as much as what was.

  ‘In that case, thank you. But if I’m going to stay longer I need to do some shopping. Get some more clothes.’

  Her expression relaxed. ‘You should find what you need in Oban. You could spend the morning there. Apart from the shops there’s a lot to see – the harbour, the folly on the hill.’

  I had the distinct feeling Georgina wanted me gone for a few hours at least. No doubt, she also found it difficult to have guests after all this time. My two great-aunts were clearly used to spending all day on their own.

  ‘If you plan to go to Oban,’ Georgina continued, ‘we should arrange for Ian to come and fetch you, although I took the little boat out of the boathouse and left it down at the jetty in case you wanted to use it.’

  ‘Then I’ll row myself. It’s not as if it’s any distance. If I had longer legs I might even be able to leap across.’

  Georgina gave a little choke of laughter.

  ‘Why don’t you and Edith come with me?’ I said impulsively. ‘We could have lunch, then do a little shopping. Afterwards you could show me the sights.’

  ‘It is most kind of you to ask but, really, it is impossible.’ She gathered the dishes from the table. ‘Edith would never agree to go and I can’t leave her here on her own.’

  Why not? I couldn’t imagine there was anything that could happen to Edith on the island. However it wasn’t a question I felt able to ask.

  ‘In that case, I’ll get going. I’ll take Tiger with me, of course.’

  Rowing across used muscles I’d forgotten I had but it was as easy as I’d hoped and I enjoyed the unaccustomed exercise. I tied the small boat up next to the pier on the Balcreen side. Tiger jumped into the front seat of my car, happy as Larry.

  Oban was around ten miles from Balcreen village, and the nearest large town. I drove into the town centre and parked my car down at the harbour. I put Tiger on the lead and strolled along the quayside, feeling myself relax. Until now I hadn’t realised how tense I’d been at Greyfriars. I found a shop selling jumpers – thick and warm although not to my taste – and bought three, as well as a pair of walking boots and passing McColl’s the newsagent, on impulse went in and bought a guide book to the West of Scotland. Finally I stopped off at a fishmonger and bought some fresh, filleted trout. I wandered around some more before having taken in all Oban could offer, then returned to the car and drove back to Balcreen.

  Despite my attempts to drag out my trip to Oban, I’d
only been away for just over an hour and deciding it was too early to return to the claustrophobic atmosphere at Greyfriars, I stopped in Balcreen and took Tiger for a walk by the shore. Freed from the constraints of the car and her leash, she ran in front of me, sniffing all the new smells, poking her nose down rabbit holes to investigate, bounding back to me, her bottom wagging furiously, her nose smudged brown with dirt.

  Down at the shore and set back from it by a hundred yards or so was a row of cottages that looked abandoned and beginning their descent into ruin. Except for the one at the end. Next to its bedraggled neighbours it was almost jaunty. It had been whitewashed, the wooden surrounds of the windows painted a glossy blue, and a number of fishing rods were propped up neatly next to the door in front of which stood a very expensive-looking motorbike. It seemed as if a stray Yuppie had extended his reach to the Scottish Highlands.

  Tiger plunged into the sea while I watched from a bench looking over the shore. Why had I ever thought she would be frightened of water? I opened my new guidebook. There was nothing about Kerista and only a brief paragraph about the ruins of Stryker Castle which added nothing to what Georgina had already told me. I turned to the section on Oban. I was reading about its history when a yip and whine came from the sea. I looked up and immediately saw that Tiger was in trouble. She was trying to swim towards me, but despite her frantic paddling was making no progress. In fact, I saw with alarm, it seemed she was being pulled further out to sea.

  I dropped my book and ran to the shore. ‘Come on, Tiger!’ I shouted. ‘Come to me, sweetie!’

  But it was becoming clear she couldn’t. There had to be a current just beyond the shore that was preventing her from making her way back.

  I looked around searching for help, or even a life buoy. There was nothing and no one.

  By this time, Tiger was barely keeping her head above water. I had no choice but to go in after her.

  I took off my shoes and my jumper and waded towards her, the pebbles digging painfully into the soles of my feet. The sea was icy cold, my jeans sucking up water as if they were a sponge, making it difficult to move. Fortunately, the sea bed sloped only gradually, although I was aware that that could change at any moment. I plunged on, desperate to reach Tiger before she was carried beyond my reach.

  ‘Come on, Tiger!’ I shouted. ‘You can do it!’

  She was only a few yards away from me but the same current that was preventing her from swimming back to shore was tugging at my legs. I was waist deep in water by now and struggling to keep my footing on the slippery stones underneath. Any deeper and I’d have to swim out to Tiger and attempt to pull her in and I wasn’t a great swimmer.

  ‘Hey!’ The shout came from behind me and I swivelled around to find a man standing on the beach. ‘What the hell are you doing?’

  ‘It’s my dog!’ I pointed to where only the tip of Tiger’s nose was now visible. ‘She can’t get back. I need to reach her.’ I kept my eyes on Tiger, petrified that if I looked away again I’d lose sight of her completely.

  ‘Wait there.’

  There was no time for me to wait. In a few minutes Tiger would go under and I might never find her. By the time the man had called the coastguard or went for help it could well be too late.

  A sob caught in my throat. I couldn’t lose Tiger. Not after Mum. And not when Mum had relied on me to take care of her. I sucked in a deep breath and clenched my jaw. Getting upset and panicking wasn’t going to help. She was only a few feet away from me. I lunged for her, catching her by the collar. In the process of reaching for her I’d lost my footing and the beach beneath my feet had disappeared. I had to tread water to keep us both afloat. Tiger was panicking in my arms, her claws scratching at my arms and face. I tightened my grip on her collar, terrified she would wriggle free before I could get us both ashore.

  At that moment, I felt myself being grabbed from behind.

  ‘Stay calm,’ a man’s voice said behind me. ‘Just relax, but keep a hold of your dog.’

  I did as he asked, and felt myself being dragged back to shore. I held on to Tiger’s collar. She’d stopped panicking and had gone back to swimming, helping herself along.

  Suddenly it was all over and I was sitting on the beach, a shivering Tiger shaking out her wet coat in between licking my face. My teeth were chattering not just from the cold but from shock. My eyes tracked shoes polished to within an inch of their life, upwards past a pair of trousers that had been worn so often they were a tad shiny, further still past a collarless grandpa shirt until I was gazing up at a stubbled face of a man in his late sixties or early seventies. He was looking down at me as if I were a bad smell, fury blazing in his green eyes. A collie sat obediently next to him.

  ‘That was a bloody stupid thing to do. You could have drowned.’ A faint waft of alcohol floated towards me.

  ‘I couldn’t leave her.’

  ‘She would have managed to get ashore eventually.’

  ‘You can’t know that.’

  He murmured something about bloody tourists under his breath and before I had the chance to thank him, stalked off in the direction of the village, his collie at his heels.

  The wind had sprung up, my jeans were soaking wet, my blouse clinging to my back, water streaming from my hair.

  ‘Don’t ever do that again,’ I berated Tiger. ‘From now on you’re a land dog, do you understand?’ When she whimpered I knelt on the ground and pulled her towards me.

  Mum would have never forgiven me if anything had happened to Tiger. When the realisation struck that Mum would never know, I pulled my knees up to my chest and gave in to the horrible, desolate emptiness I’d been feeling since Mum died. I allowed myself the luxury of tears for a few minutes then I wiped my hand across my nose and sniffed. I couldn’t stay here. I had to get warm. Tiger was fine and that was all that mattered.

  ‘Can I help?’

  I looked up into a pair of deep brown eyes, framed by horn-rimmed glasses.

  ‘I’m fine.’ Appalled at the picture I must be presenting, at how deranged I must appear – my eyes swollen and red- rimmed, hair in rat’s tails, face smeared with dirt and probably snot, my clothes dripping onto the shingle – I scrambled to my feet. The owner of the eyes wasn’t much taller than me and slim but with a wiry frame. He was wearing jeans and a white T-shirt. His face was too long to be handsome, but there was something undeniably attractive about him.

  ‘You just happen to like sitting on the beach fully dressed but soaking wet?’ He cocked an eyebrow and smiled at me. His was a face that was meant to smile.

  ‘No. Naturally not. Come on, Tiger, let’s get on our way.’

  ‘You can’t go anywhere like that.’

  ‘I don’t have far to go.’

  His lovely eyes creased with concern or laughter, I couldn’t be sure. He reached towards me. When I backed away he dropped his hand.

  ‘It’s okay. I’m not going to hurt you. It’s just you have something in your hair. May I remove it for you?’

  Before I had a chance to reply he’d plucked something from my head and held out a string of brown bulbous seaweed for my inspection.

  ‘Not really the weather for swimming,’ he said with a grin and I found myself smiling back.

  ‘Tiger got into trouble in the water. I went after her. I got into difficulty too.’ I wrapped my arms around my body, trying to contain my shivers. ‘Thankfully someone came after us and helped us out.’

  ‘And he just left you to fend for yourself?’

  ‘I think he was annoyed he had to come in after us.’ Bloody man.

  ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Freezing, but otherwise fine.’

  He pushed his glasses up on his nose and bent and rubbed Tiger under the chin. The little traitor wagged her tail as if she were in seventh heaven. ‘Tiger, eh? Should I be frightened?’ Tiger wagged her tail even more furiously. ‘You seem none the worse for your adventure, but don’t go swimming again.’

  ‘I’ve told
her no swimming from now on, haven’t I, Tiger? I thought it was shallow. I had no idea she’d get into trouble. She was my mother’s dog, you see, and I don’t know her that well.’

  I knew I was babbling but I couldn’t seem to stop myself. I shivered again.

  ‘You need to dry off. My cottage is just back there.’ He pointed to the row of cottages behind him. ‘Come in and get warm. I’ll put a fire on.’

  When I hesitated his mouth lifted at the corner, into a lopsided grin. ‘I promise you’ll be safe.’ He reached inside his pocket and pulled out an ID card and held it out for my inspection. ‘Inspector James Taylor, Strathclyde Police at your service.’

  His photo didn’t do him justice. In the flesh he was way cuter. He had an interesting face, a nice smile and I was bloody freezing. Even a couple of steps in my sodden jeans was enough to convince me going back to Greyfriars like this would be extremely uncomfortable. A police inspector was hardly going to attack me.