In his embarrassment, Tim started to ramble on. It was his first real talk to Jeannie since it happened. He talked breathlessly as if in Order to prevent Jeannie from saying anything.
‘I heard from young Morag today. Morag Ross, the girl who … who helped us. Do you … ?’
‘Of course I remember. She came to the hospital at Inverness before … before the shock completely set in.’
‘She is going to marry next summer when she finishes with her university. She’s going to marry that young fellow called Dave. He was with Winstanley … ’ Tim bit his lip wondering how much he should say. But, then, Strickland had told him that it was all right. ‘Anyway, this Dave is taking a job on a Scottish island, Raasay, I think it is called, looking after wild life, a sort of conservationist. Young Morag is going with him.’
He paused awkwardly.
‘What happened at the enquiry?’ asked Jeannie slowly. ‘The enquiry about Balmacaan … about Maitland and the others?’
Tim paused and looked at her keenly.
‘The inquest? They decided it was an accident. Accidental death on all counts. But no bodies could be found for identification. The old house seemed to have completely fallen into the cellars and even buried the cave complex.
‘Surprisingly enough the place was insured and the insurance company came forward to say that they had often warned the old laird about the dangers of storing petrol under the castle. They had recommended that the generator be placed in some sort of outhouse. The enquiry found that it was an explosion among the fuel drums that had caused the fire. Mrs Murdo, her sister Miss Struan, Maitland, Telstan and Carson all perished. As I say, they couldn’t even find any of the bodies. It would take years to excavate the place.’
Jeannie sat whitefaced, biting her lips.
‘What of … of … ’
‘Nothing else was found,’ confirmed Tim, knowing to what she was referring. ‘The place was totally destroyed by fire. It collapsed in on itself. The insurance people are arguing with Simpson Kyle because they do not feel liable, because of the storage dump. The only thing that seems salvagable is the land. You might get a farmer to buy it … someone who wants to use it as a sheep run or perhaps you can get a hotelier … ’
Jeannie shuddered.
‘I don’t want to talk about it, not for a while at least.’
There was an uncomfortable pause.
‘How was my … my kidnapping explained?’
‘As a mistake. Apologies all round. I had leapt to the wrong conclusion and asked Morag to take a message to Inverness. You were, in fact, staying at Maitland’s house when I called at Balmacaan and I had misinterpreted something Mrs Murdo said. After Morag set out for Inverness I discovered my mistake and, at the time of the fire, we were all — Maitland, Telstan, Miss Struan, Winstanley, Carson, Mrs Murdo, you and me … all of us … at Balmacaan having tea or something. Then came an explosion, and I managed to get you out of the house in time. The rest … well … ’
‘It’s a very weak story,’ observed Jeannie.
Tim nodded.
‘Well, it is the only one they’ve got. Morag and Dave wouldn’t tell. Simpson Kyle suspects but can prove nothing.’
‘I can’t help thinking … ’
Tim bent forward and smiled.
‘Well don’t. It’s a bad dream. But it’s over now. Over … whatever it was, it has been destroyed. And the perverts who aided it are dead also. It’s all over now.’
Jeannie shook her head.
‘But how were the deaths of Lachlan MacVey and his daughter, Rhona, explained?’
‘They weren’t.’
Jeannie looked bemused.
‘Their bodies were never found and so there was no need to explain anything. My guess is that Maitland and his crew disposed of them … perhaps buried them in the caves. They, certainly, could not stand an enquiry. MacVey and his daughter will just become two more statistics in the thousands of people who simply disappear in this country and are never found again.’
Jeannie sat silently, picking at the hem of the sheet with her fingers.
‘Would it not have been better to tell the truth?’
Tim shook his head.
‘The truth? Who would believe it? Tales of monsters, of people conjuring them to their aid?’
‘Doctor Strickland believes it. I had to tell him everything.’
Tim looked surprised.
‘And he believes it?’
Jeannie nodded.
‘But he is the only one who knows,’ she added.
‘Well, no one else — especially the police — would believe it,’ Tim assured her.
‘Perhaps you are right,’ the girl assented.
There was another pause.
‘Looking back,’ she said, softly, almost to herself, ‘I find it difficult to believe. Why did they … ?’
She shrugged.
‘I doubt whether we will ever know. From what you said that Telstan and Maitland told you … about mating …
The girl frowned.
‘Did I tell you that?’ she interrupted.
‘Yes,’ replied Tim. ‘While we were in Inverness, you told me what had happened just before the realisation of everything hit you and you went off into a deep shock.’
Jeannie nodded, remembering.
‘Well,’ continued Tim, ‘from what they told you, they were the sole survivors of a small, inward-looking community. They clung to some ancient pre-Christian religion. A lot of people today still do, you often hear of witches and covens and all that sort of nonsense. It just so happened that these people … and I regard them as sick … had access to a species of animal which seems to have certain powers.’
‘Powers?’ whispered Jeannie.
‘Telepathic … remember how it communicated through Rhona and then tried to draw you back to the house? It must have been fairly intelligent. It’s a pity we could not have captured the beast. We might have learnt some great things about man’s evolution.’
Jeannie shuddered.
‘Don’t! It’s better off dead!’
‘All right, Jeannie. Anyway, it is a story we can never tell. It’s a story which it is better to forget.’
He bent forward to kiss her but, to his surprise, she turned her face so that the kiss ended as a peck on the cheek.
‘Jeannie, I love you.’
He was bewildered and hurt.
Perhaps Strickland had been wrong when he had seen him earlier, he thought. Perhaps Jeannie was not entirely cured.
He suddenly realised that Jeannie’s shoulders were heaving and tears were cascading down her cheeks.
‘Tim, oh Tim,’ was all she could articulate. Her composure suddenly crumbled.
He held her in his arms for a while, murmuring ridiculous phrases, soothing, gentle.
After some time she appeared to pull herself together.
‘Tim … we must finish it.’
There was an unnatural harshness in her voice.
He stared at her in bewilderment.
‘Finish it?’ he echoed, sounding stupid.
‘Our … our relationship. I can’t go on with it. It must end.’
He felt as if someone had hit him in the solar plexus. ‘What do you mean?’
She dashed the tears from her eyes.
‘Must you question everything? Can’t you just take it that I don’t want to see you anymore?’
He shook his head like a boxer recovering from a punch. ‘I don’t see … ’
‘I can’t carry on any more, Tim. Isn’t that enough for you?’ she wept, desperately.
‘No, it damn well isn’t,’ he snarled, suddenly stung into a display of spiritedness. ‘What the hell is the matter?’
The girl collapsed into a fit of heartrending sobs.
‘I can’t go on because … because … I’m pregnant!’ The words came out as a hysterical cry of despair.
‘Pregnant?’ gasped Tim, unbelieving. ‘But … by whom?’ The girl raised her red-ri
mmed eyes to his.
‘Don’t you see? Can’t you see? Oh, my God, my God!’ She was overcome with hysteria.
A cold feeling was beginning to run through Tim’s frame; an awful suspicion was dawning, making his stomach muscles clench and a sickness well in his throat.
‘You mean … ?’
He could not articulate the thought.
‘Yes, yes, yes,’ she sobbed. ‘I’m pregnant by that … that thing!’
She tried to move to the far side of the bed.
‘Don’t you see now? Don’t you see? I’m … unclean … disgusting … oh my God, don’t you see?’
Gently Tim reached over and drew the sobbing girl towards him.
‘Oh you damned silly thing, Jeannie,’ he said softly. ‘You silly thing. I’m not going to leave you because of that. Come on now, dry those tears. We’ll get through this somehow. You will be all right.’
For a while he let the girl sob in his arms and then, silently, the door opened and a nurse came in with a tray of medicaments.
‘We must give Miss Millbuie her shot now, sir,’ she said, her voice full of sympathetic warmth. ‘And Doctor Strickland would like to see you in his office.’
Tim nodded and, placing his hands on Jeannie’s shoulders, held her at arm’s length.
‘Now none of these stupid thoughts, do you hear me, Jeannie?’
She tried to smile.
‘We are going to sort this out together,’ affirmed Tim. ‘I’m looking after you, so don’t you start any rubbish about finishing the relationship … unless you want to be rid of me, eh?’
Jeannie stifled a sob and smiled through her tears.
‘No, Tim. I don’t want to be rid of you.’
Tim leant over and kissed her.
‘Now then, get your shot and I’ll be back this evening for another visit. Everything will be all right, you’ll see.’
He stood up and moved to the door.
‘Tim … ’
He turned.
‘I love you,’ she whispered.
He smiled: ‘Wait until you’ve been washing my socks for six months before you say that!’
Doctor Hugh Strickland sat behind his desk with a serious expression on his craggy features.
‘She’s told you?’ he asked without preamble as Tim was ushered into the room by his chief nurse, Angela Warren.
‘Why didn’t you tell me first?’ demanded Tim brusquely. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you knew the truth about what … about what happened in Scotland?’
Strickland ignored him for a moment.
‘Bring in some coffee, Angie,’ he told his pretty nurse. ‘Well?’ persisted Tim, tight-lipped.
‘Please sit down, Mr Colbert,’ said Strickland, motioning him to a chair. ‘Now then, the story was best told coming from her. And therapeutically, it helped her a great deal to tell you. I gather you made the right response.’
‘I love her,’ said Tim simply.
‘She’ll need a great deal of that to face the coming ordeal,’ observed the psychiatrist. ‘I would not have believed this possible had I not seen the evidence with my own eyes.’ Tim nodded.
‘You didn’t tell me you knew,’ he said, almost petulantly.
Strickland grimaced.
‘What kind of a psychiatrist would you consider me if I did not get down to the truth. Anyway, a child is a hard thing to explain away.’
‘Child?’ repeated Tim.
‘For want of a better word,’ said Strickland. ‘Anyway, only three people in this clinic know or will know the truth of the matter. My assistant, Doctor Awadhi Bhagheli, my chief nurse, Miss Warren, and myself. I intend to keep Jeannie here right through her confinement, allowing her no visitors apart from yourself. When the time comes she will be attended by Doctor Bhagheli, who has obstetric experience, and Miss Warren who has done midwifery. The fewer people who know about this … this child … the better. On no account must we allow the affair to leak to the newspapers.’
‘But,’ said Tim, ‘she is only two months pregnant … what about an abortion?’
‘I have discounted that possibility.’
The door opened and there was a silence while Strickland’s nurse returned with two cups of coffee. She placed them on the desk and left.
‘As I say,’ resumed Strickland, ‘I have discounted that possibility. There are two main factors which made me decide against abortion at this time. Firstly, Jeannie’s psychiatric condition and the traumatic effect it would have on her mental and physical well-being. The second thing is that we have no knowledge about the biology of the particular foetus in her womb. Would it react to normal abortion techniques? Would it damage the host body? There are too many “ifs” at this stage, Mr Colbert. Unless they can be cleared up I suggest we follow the normal birth procedure, keeping everything strictly secret.’
Tim nodded, sipping his coffee.
‘But after the birth? What then?’
Strickland shrugged.
‘We must face that when we come to it.’
‘But won’t the medical profession make a meal out of this?’
Strickland frowned.
‘Jeannie is my patient. My first duty is to her and not to the medical profession — who would, of course, like a new biological toy to play with. You may trust me, Mr Colbert.’
‘How will this experience affect Jeannie?’
Strickland looked at Tim pointedly.
‘That, Mr Colbert, is entirely up to you. And you must make up your mind at this stage whether you are, in fact, prepared to stand by Jeannie one hundred per cent in this ordeal.’
He held up his hand to stifle Tim’s protests.
‘Think carefully before you fully commit yourself, Mr Colbert. Think carefully what that means … it may be that within a few months or a few years you will find yourself overcome by feelings which Jeannie will interpret as disgust, abhorrence that she has had sexual intercourse with some alien creature … not only that but that she has borne its offspring. What then? Such a trauma would destroy her.’
Tim looked thoughtfully and long at the floor before he raised his eyes to Strickland’s kindly grey ones.
‘Doctor Strickland, I am not egocentric enough to predict what will happen to my feelings in the future. No man or woman, if they be truly honest, can say that they will continue to love someone ad infinitum. There is no way a person can predict eternal love. But I can tell you this: I believe I know myself to a great extent. I can say that this thing has made no difference to the feelings that I currently have for Jeannie. Nor, I hope, does it affect the feelings that Jeannie has for me. It is an external thing. If Jeannie had been run down by a motor car and broken her leg, you would not ask me whether I am likely to change my feelings towards her.’
He raised his hand as Strickland started to speak.
‘I know it may not be considered a comparable thing. But to me it is just that. Jeannie has encountered a force which proved as irresistible as a speeding motor car. There was no way she could avoid it. Her feelings did not enter into it.’
Strickland nodded.
‘I’ll accept your metaphor, Mr Colbert. I accept its spirit if not its accuracy. But people are notoriously illogical, especially in the case of rape victims. There is a tendency to consider a victim of rape just as guilty, if not more so, as the rapist. It is a very backward, primitive state of affairs. Very well. I am glad you are honest in your assessment of your feelings. The next few months, until the … the child is born … will be crucial. Are you able to come in fairly often to see Jeannie?’
‘I can get here a couple of days a week and at weekends.’
‘Good. She’ll need to be constantly assured of your affections.’
‘That won’t be difficult, doctor,’ affirmed Tim.
*
It was seven months later that the labour pains started, fierce, agonising pains.
The clinic’s head nurse, Angela Warren, informed Tim immediately by telephone and by the time he
reached Netley Heath from Victoria it was all over.
A pale-faced Strickland sat with a glass of brandy in his hand and as Tim entered his office he pushed a half-filled bottle towards Tim.
Tim shook his head.
‘Jeannie?’ was his first question. ‘How is she?’
‘She’ll be fine,’ replied Strickland and a surge of relief caused Tim to sit down abruptly. ‘She’s sleeping now,’ went on Strickland, ‘but you can go and see her shortly. She’s fine. Just exhausted.’
Tim examined the doctor’s pale face.
‘What about … ?’
Strickland took a swallow from his glass.
‘Mercifully … ’ he said slowly, ‘mercifully it was dead at birth.’
A sudden convulsive shudder made him spill a little of his brandy.
‘Did Jeannie … ?’ began Tim, but Strickland shook his head.
‘It would have been a painful birth if he hadn’t used some painkillers … an epidural … An injection in the spinal column. No more than you would give in a normal pregnancy. But she passed out during the labour. Thank God she did. She didn’t see it.’
Strickland took another swallow.
‘Bhagheli and myself are the only ones who saw it. We couldn’t even let our nurse see it. We’ve sworn ourselves to secrecy over this. It’s not ethics and probably contravenes all interpretations of the Hippocratic oath but there are some things which are better buried.’
‘What … what happened to it?’ whispered Tim.
‘The moment it was born, I placed it in a cardboard box and buried it myself a few minutes ago. It may not be ethical but it is merciful … merciful to everyone. Let’s hope that it rots quickly!’
There was a vehemence in his voice.
He finished his brandy, seemed to pull himself together and raised his eyes to Tim.
He forced his mouth into a smile but his eyes remained haunted — horrified by his experience.
‘All right, Mr Colbert. You may go up and see Jeannie now. She is going to be fine. Just fine.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Abe Bailey stifled a yawn and looked at his watch for the fiftieth time in the past hour.
The Curse of Loch Ness Page 24