‘What do you do for a living?’
‘I deal in antiques and collectables. Mostly online.’
Alys raises an eyebrow. ‘You could do that here, couldn’t you?’
‘I probably could. I’ve got so much stuff in the house, I wouldn’t need to buy anything for years.’
‘Donal says Cal Galbraith was asking about Auchenblae, in the hotel. Wondering what would happen to the contents.’
‘Was he?’ Daisy finds herself blushing. ‘Actually, he’s been in touch.’
‘Has he been pestering you?’
‘He seems to want to be helpful. He hasn’t exactly been harassing me. What’s he like? Really?’
‘I don’t know him well. My husband knew him when they were kids. Cal and his sister and his mum. He’s very friendly. His dog and Malky get on well if we meet them down on the beach. They say his mother adores the island, but she hardly ever comes here now. I think there’s a fair bit of money in the family and in their business.’
‘There is. I’ve been in the shop in Glasgow. Met his mum. She seems very nice.’
‘His father doesn’t come highly recommended round here, but I’ve never met him, so I can’t really speak ill of him. Cal? Who knows? He’s incredibly charming. Donal can’t see it, but I can. He used to bring some gorgeous blonde over here for a while, all legs and teeth and glossy locks, like a hair advert.’
Daisy thinks this must have been Annabel, but she can’t be sure. There are plenty of leggy, glossy blondes in the world and she can imagine that they might well appeal to Cal, or he to them. He’s attractive, that’s for sure.
‘But anyway, that seemed to stop quite suddenly. I used to see them driving about together and it was clear they fancied themselves no end, as well as each other. Well, I suppose she did, more than Cal. He can’t help being quite fanciable, can he? And then winter came and it was just him and the dog, who didn’t seem to mind the wind and the rain. But perhaps I’m being unfair. He’s the complete opposite of my husband and maybe that’s influenced the way I feel about him.’
She pauses to drink her coffee and then giggles suddenly. ‘Oh God, you must think my husband is a miserable git, but he isn’t. He’s just quieter and a lot more thoughtful. Cal’s so instantly charming and full of energy that you catch yourself wondering what’s underneath. If there is anything underneath. But don’t let me put you off! He’s good-looking, rich, so we’re led to believe. Although he doesn’t often go in for conspicuous consumption, I’ll say that for him. What more do you want?’
‘A lot more.’ Daisy laughs. ‘And I wasn’t...’
‘Looking for a character reference. I know. I can’t help myself. This place can be such a wee hothouse at times. It makes you absolutely fascinated about what makes people tick. Anyway, he knows his stuff where antiques are concerned. Or so I believe. I think he’d love to get his hands on Donal’s embroidered casket.’
‘The one in the hotel?’
‘Yes. But it’s going nowhere. We pay a fortune for insurance for it every year because the hotel shouldn’t really have to foot the bill, and we have to have a special cabinet for it with an alarm system. But Donal says it has to stay on the island. And who am I to argue with him?’
‘I can understand his thinking.’ The portrait of Lilias comes into her mind, vivid and potentially valuable. ‘Cal did a valuation of the contents of my house. For the solicitor.’
‘That would be right up his street. Did he pocket something on the way round?’ Alys puts her hand to her mouth. ‘I shouldn’t have said that, should I? I’ll be had up for libel. Or is it slander when you say it?’
‘I don’t think he did, but how would I know?’ She thinks about the portrait of Lilias, so carefully hidden at the bottom of the pile. But then Cal had been the one to retrieve her, to unwrap her and show her off.
Alys slides her chair back. ‘You know, the very first time Donal took me out on his boat, he showed me your house. We used to come here on holiday when we were kids but I’d never seen Auchenblae. It’s so hidden, so private, and we had only a couple of weeks at a time.’
‘I’d only ever been here once before. When I was very young. For a flying visit.’
‘I came back here all by myself after the divorce and met Donal. I remembered him from when we were both kids and it turns out he remembered me. That was six years ago, when Viola was still alive. I’ve never actually seen the house from the landward side. Only from the sea.’ She laughs. ‘Do you know, the first time Donal took me out on his boat he told me the place was empty. It was only later that he confessed he’d been fibbing about it. He did odd jobs for Viola and she was determined not to be bothered by visitors. He just got into the habit of telling everyone it was empty.’
‘Would visitors have bothered her?’
‘They might. We get a lot of tourists in the summer months. I shouldn’t complain, because they’re my bread and butter down here. But they can be a bit entitled. We’ve even had people picnicking in Donal’s boat and leaving their rubbish behind.’
‘I haven’t seen anyone at Auchenblae so far. Other than Cal.’
‘You wait. There’ll be people knocking on your door and asking for conducted tours. It looks quite magical. Like some place out of a story. Sunk in time.’
‘That’s what it’s like.’
‘Isn’t it a bit spooky? Staying there on your own?’
‘Cal offered to lend me his dog!’
‘Hector? He’d lick intruders to death.’
‘I got that impression.’
‘Although the chance of actual burglars on this island is fairly negligible.’
‘That’s what people keep telling me. And my grandmother lived there all by herself for years, didn’t she?’
As she says it, it strikes her that it’s one reason why she has hesitated to come here, to take possession of the house fully. Is she afraid of turning into her grandmother? Is that the problem? Seeing herself growing old and reclusive? But of course it won’t happen. Her father for one would never allow it to happen. But what if he was no longer here?
‘It’s a bit of a challenge, isn’t it?’ says Alys. ‘I mean, I can perfectly understand why you don’t want to let it go without finding out exactly what you have there.’
‘That’s it.’
‘Especially in your line of business. But at the same time, you need help and you can’t be certain that the help on offer at the moment is entirely selfless.’
‘Exactly.’
Alys pauses, gazing out of the window at the back of the gallery.
‘Well, if you’ve nothing better to do, and nowhere better to be, I think staying for the summer is a very good idea. It’s just gorgeous here in the summer. From now onwards, although every season has its pleasures. The white sand gets into your shoes, you know. You go away and there it is, and you want to be back here.’
‘You fell in love with the place, didn’t you?’
‘I fell in love with the place and the man both. And here he is.’
A sturdy man of about forty is coming in the gate, carrying a pair of long wooden oars, and a plastic carrier bag. There’s a black and white collie frisking around his feet. He’s attractive in a shabby, understated way, dark hair sprinkled with grey, a weather-beaten fisherman’s face and a weather-beaten fisherman’s blue jersey over faded jeans. Daisy notices enviously how Alys’s face lights up when she sees him and how the feeling is reciprocated, Donal’s rather solemn face breaking into a broad grin. The child, Grace, rushes up to him and he picks her up and birls her round, her red sandals swinging. ‘Gracie, my Gracie!’ he says. The dog barks happily and jumps up at them both, desperate to be included.
‘I told Ben you might take him out for a bit once he’s finished his homework.’
Donal sighs momentarily, but nods. ‘Yeah. Why not? It’s a fine night.�
�
‘This is Daisy, from Auchenblae.’
‘Is it indeed?’ He shakes her hand, gravely. ‘Good to meet you. How are you getting on at the big house?’
‘It’s a big undertaking.’
‘She’s thinking of staying here for the summer. While she sorts it all out.’
‘While I attempt to sort it out.’
‘My dad used to help Viola with odd jobs and he would take me along. I used to get juice and biscuits from her in that big kitchen. Then I took over and did a few bits and pieces of work for her myself. Her bark was always a lot worse than her bite. Bit like Malky here.’
‘I never knew her.’
‘That’s sad.’
‘She didn’t even know I existed till just before her death.’
‘Even sadder. We need family, don’t we?’
‘They tell me Auchenblae was probably once your family home.’
He grins again, blushes, the crimson spreading across his face. ‘Oh now,’ he says. ‘Maybe, but that was so long ago that who would know? Or care? There was a Manus McNeill who was Laird of Garve in the late 1600s and early 1700s. He had two marriages, both to lowlanders, one in mysterious circumstances.’
He looks mischievous, exchanging a glance with his wife.
‘Not that mysterious,’ she says. ‘You just like keeping secrets.’
‘Of course we do. We’re Celts. We are people who could keep a secret for a thousand years. Anyway, there would have been family before that. My McNeill forebears. Then slowly but surely everything went to hell for them.’
‘Until the Neilsons came.’
‘Aye – until the Neilsons came. And who knows, maybe they were a different branch of the same family. But by then it was all lost, all changed. And we were down here at Ardachy. With the wee box and all. The curiosity cabinet. And the things that were in it.’
‘I think you’ve lost very little by that.’ She looks around, realising how much she envies them both: their marriage, their children, this whitewashed house, the larch gallery, the days spent doing something worthwhile in each other’s company. She’s not foolish enough to think that it won’t have its challenges, but it seems so much more desirable, right now, than whatever she has. So much more desirable than the challenge of coping with Auchenblae and everything in it, and not knowing who to trust. A curse as well as a blessing.
‘Anyway,’ he says, shouldering the oars again, ‘I’ll give Ben a shout and we’ll be gone for an hour, no more. I’ll leave Malky here, though. Think he’s had enough sea for one day. If you need any help, Daisy, just let me know. I’m pretty good at lifting heavy things, as my wife will tell you.’
Alys grins. ‘You’re good at a lot more than that. I’ll give Grace her tea and you can give her her bath when you come in.’
Again, Daisy finds herself envying the warm domesticity of this, even though she’s not at all sure about living on the island. Maybe it’s something to do with her age. Maybe it’s the increasingly loud ticking of the biological clock, especially when she lies awake at four o’clock in the morning, as she so often does these days. She wants the kind of life that Alys seems to be leading, although she’s not at all sure who she might want to lead that life with.
‘You’ll need to come for a meal very soon,’ says Alys, just as she’s leaving. ‘Don’t be a stranger. I don’t have half enough female friends of my own age here. Or not friends with the same interests, anyway. I’m not really WRI material.’
They exchange phone numbers.
‘If you need any odd jobs doing, just give us a ring. Donal might be available. Being a handyman on this island is like painting the Forth Road Bridge. He tends to work his way from one end to another, but by the time he’s finished the last job at the north end there’s another job at the south end all over again.’
‘Does he do gardening?’
‘He does. But I should imagine the garden at Auchenblae will be a huge job for somebody.’
‘That’s what worries me. Are there any other gardeners on the island?’
‘One or two. All more expensive than Donal. I keep telling him he needs to put up his prices. There’s a lot to do here to keep the gallery going as well. And the boat trips. Which he enjoys and they pay quite well.’
‘He’s a man of many talents.’
Alys grins. ‘He is. He fits in odds and ends of gardening between the building jobs, and people are happy to wait for him. You know what they say? Mañana is a concept with just too much urgency about it over here. But the truth is, when you have a portfolio of work, you probably work three times as hard as somebody with a nine-to-five job!’
TWENTY-ONE
She has a quiet night at Auchenblae. She leaves the hall light on, and her bedroom window open and the dawn chorus wakes her. The mice seem to have calmed down, the fridge makes no noise at all. Maybe she was just too exhausted to hear anything, as she fell fast asleep, surrounded by her own and her mother’s clothes. In the morning, a telephone engineer comes over from the mainland to set up her broadband and the landline. He gets lost on the way and has to telephone her to ask where the turning for the house is.
‘God, you’re in the back of beyond here, aren’t you?’ he says when he finally turns in at the gate. It would be costing her a fortune, except that he’s been called to do some work on a couple of farms at the south of the island as well. Cal has warned her about the additional expenses of living on an island, even one with such good ferry connections as Garve; how delivery expenses can rocket, how some companies won’t even deliver to anywhere north of the central belt of Scotland, and have a very restricted notion of where that central belt ends.
‘Hell’s bells,’ the engineer says, looking at the box where the phone line from the road comes into the house. She hasn’t noticed before but it could be made of Bakelite. ‘Haven’t seen one of these since 1970. It’s a good job they sent me. Some of the younger engineers wouldn’t know what they were looking at. I’ll need to replace it. I’m surprised the phones worked at all.’
‘The line’s been disconnected, so I wouldn’t know.’
She makes him tea and biscuits to speed up the work, leaves him to it and goes upstairs to sort out her bedroom, laying claim to it, making it her own. But she can’t resist putting the Laura Ashley and the Marimekko dresses back in the wardrobe.
*
Later that afternoon, she’s down on the beach, contemplating the sea and wondering how many relics of wrecked ships might be lurking down there under the sand. She still can’t quite get used to the idea that the beach is hers, and in her heart of hearts she doesn’t approve of anyone owning a beach. Her father would be outraged. Not that she could fence it off or prevent people from walking along it or would even want to. She hears joyful barking and looks up towards the house to see Hector careering down the path in her direction, leaping up and down through the vegetation. He thunders over the sand, puts both front paws on her knee and grins at her, panting, his tongue lolling.
‘Where did you spring from?’ she asks him, scratching him behind the ears. He sits down, thumps his tail on the sand, stands up again, grabs a piece of seaweed and shakes it vigorously.
‘Hector!’ His master is following at a more leisurely pace, picking his way down the track. He’s grinning too, but not quite so ingratiatingly. ‘He clearly loves you!’ he says, nodding at the dog.
‘I suspect he’s anybody’s, really.’
‘Yeah. That’s true. How was your trip?’
‘Fine. The fair was OK.’
‘Busy?’
‘So so. I decided to come back here, begin to sort things out, make up my mind about the house.’
‘You saw my mum. You went into the shop.’
‘Did she tell you?’
‘I phone her quite a bit. Just to make sure she’s OK.’
Afterwards sh
e wonders about this rather strange admission, asking herself why Fiona wouldn’t be OK. She seems to be the kind of person who can look after herself. Also, she remembers the expression on his face when he said it. He’s smiling, as ever, but just for a moment, his eyes are curiously at odds with the rest of him. She has a brief, incredible impression that he’s completely exhausted, but hiding it well. Or perhaps she’s reading too much into it altogether.
He throws a piece of driftwood for Hector. ‘She said she was swearing like the proverbial trooper.’
‘She was. Over a broken Wemyss pig.’
‘She was mortified but she says you’re nice. She thinks you look like your mother. As she remembers her.’
‘I was only in there for five minutes. To be honest, if your mum hadn’t come in, I’d probably have left sooner.’
‘Ah.’ He pulls a face. ‘Annabel. She’s OK when you get to know her.’
‘She isn’t exactly welcoming to the customers. Well, customers like me.’
‘No. We have Mum for that. But you should see her get to work on the guys with money to burn.’
‘That’s a bit unscrupulous. And inadvisable. I might have been rich beyond the dreams of avarice.’
‘Well, you’re certainly worth a bob or two!’ He laughs.
‘Only if I sell up. But what happened to the customer always being right?’
‘Annabel thinks that doesn’t apply to her.’ He looks sheepish.
‘You’re right there. I didn’t see your father, though.’
‘No. You wouldn’t. He hardly ever comes into the shop.’ He’s silent for a moment, scratching behind Hector’s ear. ‘Is there something wrong, Daisy? Have I done something?’
‘I don’t know. Have you?’
He sighs. ‘You’ve been talking to your solicitor, haven’t you?’
‘It’s fairly usual.’
‘I don’t know why I didn’t let on from the beginning. But it seemed such a cheek. To say I’d been in the house before you. Seen some of the things. I mean, it isn’t something I do very often. Probate valuations. In fact, I don’t really do them at all. It’s just that I was available.’
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