by Sk Quinn
Gallalee works around me, humming and pinning fabric.
I watch myself in the mirror.
This is all so crazy.
Here I am, in this amazing gown, getting ready to marry Lord Patrick Mansfield.
Tomorrow.
As if reading my thoughts, Hugo says: ‘So beautiful Seraphina. Are you ready to become a Lady?’
‘She already is a lady,’ says Gallalee, giving me a friendly smile. ‘Look at her in this dress. Did you ever see anything more perfect?’
‘Yes, but as of tomorrow she’ll have a title darling. A title! Lady Seraphina Mansfield. Imagine that!’
‘You’re a lady because you act like a lady,’ says Gallalee. ‘Not because someone gives you a title.’
‘Well I wouldn’t mind being a Lord, let me tell you. Lord Hugo! Can you imagine?’
‘Only too well,’ says Gallalee, giving me a knowing smile. ‘There! All fitted.’
I stare at myself – a vision in white. I have to admit, the dress looks pretty stunning.
‘She’s a knock out,’ Hugo announces. ‘Scotland is going to fall in love with you tomorrow, honey. Just you wait and see.’
‘I’m not so sure about that.’
‘Your sister’s coming up this evening, is that right?’ Hugo asks.
‘Wila? No. Not until tomorrow morning.’
‘How are your father and Patrick getting along?’ says Hugo. ‘Two stags. Any broken antlers yet? Patrick is quite the alpha male isn’t he?’
‘They’ve been fine so far,’ I say. ‘It’s me and my mum who are the problem.’
‘Uh oh!’ says Hugo. ‘You’ve been arguing with Mummy?’
‘I’m getting pretty close to it.’
‘Well you just reign in that redhead temper of yours missy,’ says Hugo. ‘No fights before the big day. Understand?’
‘I’ll try my best.’
‘So are you and Patrick staying apart this evening?’ Hugo asks. ‘Separate bedrooms?’
‘I suppose so. Tradition and everything. I’ll miss him, though.’
‘Of course you will sweetheart,’ says Hugo. ‘But then you’ll have the rest of your lives together.’
87
The storm crashes on late into the afternoon. By the evening, it’s still rumbling around the castle.
I give Bertie his supper and put him to bed.
Mum, Dad and Danny still aren’t back. I’m guessing they’ve found a pub in Edinburgh and have forgotten the time.
As I’m closing Bertie’s bedroom door, Patrick stalks towards me, frowning. He’s carrying a parcel wrapped in tartan paper.
‘Patrick? What’s wrong?’ I ask.
‘I have some news.’
‘What is it?’
‘The roads from here to Edinburgh are blocked. More than fifty trees have fallen in the storm. The trains are down. Your family are safe, but it’s best they stay in Edinburgh. It’s too dangerous to travel back here in this weather.’
‘Um. Wow. Okay.’
‘I’ve put them up in the Edinburgh Regent. The best hotel in the city.’
‘They’re okay aren’t they?’
‘They’re fine.’ Patrick runs a hand through his hair. ‘I’m not though. At the thought of being without you this evening.’
‘We’re following that tradition, are we?’
‘Yes. I’ll stay in the turret bedroom. You’ll stay in our room. Your wedding gown is there already. And there’s something else I want you to have.’
I smile. ‘Which is?’
‘This.’ He hands me the tartan-wrapped parcel.
‘I take it you didn’t wrap this? I can’t imagine you big fingers managing to wrap so neatly.’
A little smile creeps onto Patrick’s lips. ‘Louise did the wrapping. But the gift is from me.’
‘Thank you,’ I whisper. ‘I’m going to miss you so much tonight. Silly isn’t it? I mean, it’s just one night?’
‘I don’t think it’s silly,’ says Patrick. ‘I think it’s true love.’
When I get to our bedroom I unwrap the parcel.
Under the paper is a purple box.
I slide off the lid.
Inside is a bouquet of bluebells, tied with tartan ribbon.
A note says: ‘For my beautiful bride.’
I take the flowers out and smell them, thinking of Patrick.
He must have picked these by hand. I can feel him in the petals.
Oh Patrick, Patrick.
I miss him so much already.
But it won’t be long until morning.
And then we’ll be together every night.
Until forever more.
88
The next day I wake up wondering where I am. And where Patrick is.
It’s strange waking alone.
I didn’t sleep well at all. Lots of bad dreams. About Bertie and his grandfather.
Still. The sun is shining and it looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day.
There’s a knock at my door.
‘Patrick, if that’s you, you can’t see me,’ I call out.
I hear a soft female laugh. ‘It’s not Patrick, my dear. It’s May.’
‘Oh.’ I climb out of bed, grabbing a castle-branded dressing gown from the door hook. ‘Come in.’
The door creaks open.
May is wearing a silky white dressing gown, her white hair wrapped in a bun. She’s bent over. But she’s smiling.
‘Are you okay?’ I ask her. ‘I’m not sure you should be walking around.’
May chuckles. ‘Today I intend to walk around as much as possible. I’ve been waiting for this day for a long time. A lifetime, you could say.’
‘Just don’t overdo it,’ I say, leading her towards the bed.
‘Don’t worry about me, my dear,’ says May. ‘How are you feeling today? Nervous?’
‘Terrified. And my family got stranded in Edinburgh last night. So I’m all alone with my worries.’
‘You’re not alone, my dear. I’m here.’ May looks out the window. ‘They say sunshine blesses a marriage. It looks like you have the perfect weather. God is smiling.’
‘I hope so.’
‘Should we go find my great grandson, do you think?’ May asks. ‘I can’t wait to see him in his little wedding suit.’
‘Good idea.’
89
Bertie’s bedroom door is a little open.
I wonder if Daphne is with him. But the room is empty – except for a Bertie-shaped lump under the duvet.
‘Are you hiding under there, Bertie boo?’ I say, going to the duvet.
The lump doesn’t move.
‘Bertie?’ I pat the covers.
The lump is weirdly squishy in parts, hard in others.
I pull the duvet back and see a pile of toys, clothes and books arranged into a person shape on the bed.
My heart pounds.
‘Bertie?’ I shout, checking the ensuite and the wardrobe. ‘Bertie? Are you hiding in here? Please. Don’t play games. I’m getting worried.’
I search the bedroom. But he’s not here.
‘May. Would you wait here in case he comes back?’
‘Of course, my dear.’
I race towards the turret bedroom. ‘Patrick. PATRICK!’
90
I fling open the turret bedroom door and find a shocked Louise changing the sheets.
‘Oh!’ She puts a hand to her chest. ‘You scared me. Patrick’s gone already. And you’ll get yourself bad luck, seeing him before the wedding.’
‘Bad luck happened already,’ I say. ‘Bertie’s gone. He’s not in his room. Where did Patrick go?’
‘To the cathedral,’ says Louise. ‘He’s checking the security arrangements and briefing the staff. He left over an hour ago.’
‘I need to call him.’ I take my phone from my dressing gown pocket, then call Patrick’s number, pacing around the bed. But it goes straight through to answer phone.
‘It’s not connecting,’ I tell Louise.
I leave a garbled message on Patrick’s answer phone about Bertie being missing. Then I send a text. Then I call again. But it still doesn’t connect.
‘Who else is with him?’ I ask Louise. ‘Do you know?’
‘Grey,’ says Louise.
‘Vicky has his number,’ I say. ‘Tell all the staff here to look for Bertie. What about Rab? Is he at the castle?’
‘I think so,’ says Louise.
‘Tell him to call in men to search for Bertie. We need as many people as we can get.’
91
At the great hall, I scan the tables and benches.
The Thornburn brothers are having breakfast, shouting, laughing and forking sausages and eggs into their mouths.
I don’t see Anise.
And more importantly, I don’t see Bertie.
I run to the kitchen hatch.
‘Vicky. VICKY!’ I shout.
‘Goodness hen. Is everything all right? You’re loud enough to wake the dead this morning.’
‘Bertie’s gone.’
‘Gone? What do you mean?’
‘His bed was empty. He’d stuffed it with clothes to make it look like he was sleeping. Has he been down here?’
‘No.’ She wipes her hands on her apron and comes out of the kitchen. ‘Let’s think. Where could he be?’
‘I need to get hold of Patrick,’ I tell her. ‘But his phone isn’t picking up. Grey’s with him. Do you have his number?’
‘Yes,’ says Vicky, pulling out her phone. ‘Let me call him.’ She dials the number, then frowns. ‘Funny. He always picks up … but it’s going straight to answer phone.’
‘We need to phone the cathedral,’ I say.
Vicky taps at her phone, still frowning. ‘The internet isn’t connecting either. Hen, I think maybe that storm … the network’s down.’
‘Okay, listen. Vicky, can you go to the office? Use the landline to call the cathedral. Tell Patrick that Bertie is missing.’
‘What are you going to do?’
‘I’m going to look for Bertie.’
‘Hen, it’s your wedding day.’
‘I know. But nothing matters until Bertie is safe.’
92
As I turn to run out the great hall, I bump straight into Blake Thornburn’s hard chest.
‘Whoa!’ he says. ‘Slow down there, little lady.’
‘I can’t slow down,’ I say. ‘Bertie’s missing.’
‘I know. I think the whole castle heard. Can I help?’
‘No you can’t. Go play on your quad bike.’
‘Hey. That’s not fair. I care about Bertie. And by the sounds of it, you need all the help you can get.’
I hesitate.
‘Where do you think he is?’ Blake asks.
‘Maybe out in the woods.’
‘Why do you think he ran away?’
‘I have no idea.’
‘I’ll help you search the woods.’
‘No. I can do it alone. It’s fine.’
‘It’s not fine. And if Patrick were here, he’d say the same thing. You need someone with you. And that someone is me.’
I sigh. ‘Okay.’
‘Is anyone searching the castle?’
‘I asked Louise to get a search underway. And call in more men.’ I frown. ‘Where’s Anise? We should tell her Bertie’s missing.’
Blake shrugs. ‘Putting on her bridesmaid dress maybe?’
‘We should tell her.’
‘What for? She’ll only panic and get upset. We should search the woods. But you need to get dressed first. It’s cold out there.’
93
We head out into the woods, Blake pushing brambles out of the way.
‘You’re not going to have any skin left if you keep doing that,’ I say. ‘Look – you’re bleeding.’
‘I like scars.’
I look up. ‘Bertie’s always climbing trees,’ I say. ‘Maybe he’s high up.’
‘He’s a little climber. When he was a baby, he was always getting up the stairs.’
‘You … you must miss Bertie sometimes. I mean, you bonded once …’
‘I miss him every day. But I’m no father. It’s best he’s with someone better. Like Patrick.’
‘You don’t seem so bad to me. How did you turn out so different from your brothers?’
‘I’m no so different.’ He pulls up the hood of his black sweatshirt. ‘Fuck, it’s cold out here.’
‘You should have brought a coat.’
‘Real men don’t wear coats.’
‘That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard.’ I notice something. ‘Wait. I think … does that look like a footprint to you?’
‘It looks like a lump of mud.’
‘With a little footprint in it.’
‘I’ve never been much of a tracker. We should have gone on the bikes. We could have covered much more ground.’
‘And missed important details.’
‘You’ve been hanging around Patrick too long,’ says Blake. ‘He’s into being at one with nature and reading the forest and all that crap.’
‘It’s not crap,’ I say. ‘Maybe you and your brothers could learn something from Patrick. Instead of trashing the forest with your tyre tracks and hunting defenceless animals.’
‘What happened to that little fox of yours, anyway?’
‘He’s here somewhere,’ I say. ‘I just don’t know where. He’s free now. As long as idiots like you don’t hunt him.’
‘It’s Regan and Riley who like to hunt. I just go along for the ride.’
‘Can’t you think for yourself?’
‘I can think for myself. Believe me. I tell Regan and Riley where to go pretty much every day of the week. But I like racing quad bikes. And if we happen to kill a fox on the way, big deal? They’re vermin.’
‘You have no morals.’
Blake laughs. ‘No morals? You’re confusing me with Regan and Riley. I have morals, believe me.’
‘Really? Like sleeping with Anise when she was a teenager? At the same time as your brothers?’
‘We were young and stupid. I never meant for that to happen. But Anise wasn’t complaining.’
‘Because she was too young to know any better.’
‘Hey, I was young too,’ says Blake. ‘Young and stupid. We can’t all be sensible.’ He grins. ‘I’m guessing you were a very sensible teenager. Homework always in on time. Apple for the teacher.’
‘Me? Sensible?’
‘Oh yeah. You’ve got your head screwed on. It’s pretty obvious. Listen, if things don’t work out with you and Patrick, I’ll be happy to take his place.’
‘Thanks for the offer. But I think you’re more suited to Zara.’
Blake laughs.
‘What’s so funny?’
‘If you knew …’
‘What?’
‘Zara’s doing it with Regan right now.’
‘What?’
‘I think she’s trying to show Anise what Regan’s all about. In the only way she knows how.’
‘Are you kidding me? Zara – Anise’s best friend – is having sex with her husband? What – in the castle?’
‘That’s what it looks like to me.’
‘I can’t believe that. I can’t believe even Zara would be that bad …’ My eyes fall to a mark in the mud. ‘Wait. Look there. Another footprint?’
‘Could be I suppose,’ says Blake.
‘And over there! Another one.’
We walk on, following the little marks. Sometimes they’re really clear. Other times, they’re faint and I’m not sure at all if we’re tracking Bertie or not.
We reach the stream.
‘Where now?’ Blake asks.
The water has washed the ground smooth and there are no more tracks.
‘I don’t know,’ I say.
We walk in circles by the stream looking for more tracks. But there are none.
Blake scratches his head. ‘Well. You know him better than I do. Which
way do you feel he would have gone?’
‘Let’s try this way,’ I say. ‘It’s better than just standing here. Lost.’
We walk on.
‘Patrick will be waiting for you in the church,’ says Blake. ‘You do know that, don’t you?’
‘Someone will have got a message through to him by now.’
‘Not likely,’ says Blake. ‘All the networks are down.’
‘Vicky is calling the cathedral on the landline.’
‘The landlines are down too. And the main road is blocked now anyway. No traffic in or out of the village. Another tree fell a few hours ago. Don’t you listen to local radio?’
We carry on walking.
94
There are no tracks any more, and I’m beginning to feel utterly hopeless.
‘This is like looking for a needle in a haystack,’ I say.
‘You got that right,’ says Blake. ‘Let’s rest for a moment. We’ve been out here for over an hour.’
‘We should keep walking.’
‘You’ll be no use to anyone exhausted. You should take a rest.’
There’s a fallen tree up ahead and we take a seat on it.
‘There’s hardly even a path anymore,’ I say. ‘Nowhere to spot tracks even if there were any.’
Blake takes a seat beside me. ‘We should head back. No sense is getting lost out here ourselves.’
‘I’m not going back until we find him.’
‘Seraphina, we’re in miles of wilderness. We need more people. We can’t do this alone.’
‘You go back, then. I’ll keep looking.’
‘I’m not leaving you out here alone. I told you that before.’
I put my head in my hands. ‘And I told you. I’m not leaving until we find him.’
Suddenly, there’s a rustling sound.
‘What was that?’ I put a hand on Blake’s arm. ‘Listen?’
Blake and I stay perfectly still.
Up ahead, I see a little flash of red.
A smile creeps onto my face.
‘Dan Dan.’
‘What?’ Blake asks.
Dan Dan trots through the trees towards us.
‘Whoa, careful,’ says Blake, leaping up. ‘This fox is crazy. Doesn’t he know that humans are dangerous?’
‘We’re not dangerous.’ I reach out my hand and Dan Dan licks me.