Cauldstane

by Gillard, Linda

  I made a note on my pad to ask Zelda whether Wilma was widowed or divorced. It wasn’t something I felt I could ask Wilma herself. I could hardly claim she’d feature in Sholto’s book. And that seemed unfair. Wilma had been the one to console Alec when his mother died. Meredith had evidently counted on Wilma’s support and unstinting hard work for her musical soirées. Liz had entrusted the care of her boys to Wilma and I thought it unlikely Sholto could function without her. Wilma had been the backbone of Cauldstane, even though she wasn’t a MacNab. I would have liked to honour her contribution in Sholto’s book, but what we included or omitted was his decision.

  So I thanked Wilma for the coffee and helped myself to a tart, knowing no other way to express my appreciation. I was rewarded with a shy smile, then she scuttled silently from the room. As the door closed, I attempted to pick up the threads of my conversation with Sholto.

  ‘If you can bear it, I’d like to hear your account of Liz’s accident. I also need you to tell me how you want me to deal with it. I understand that you want to downplay Meredith’s death and I think we can easily do that because her death, though very sudden, didn’t have far-reaching consequences for the family...’

  I paused and considered what I’d just said. It was completely untrue. The woman had been dead twelve years and was still wreaking havoc. Alec’s life was still not his own. But there was no way I could handle Meredith’s death other than from Sholto’s point of view. As far as he knew, her death had been the end of her “pernicious influence” on the MacNabs, whereas Liz’s death had led to all sorts of changes: the sale of the horses, Wilma’s promotion to housekeeper, Zelda’s return from France and a lifetime of guilt for Alec. It seemed clear Liz had been the love of Sholto’s life, even if he had treated her badly, so I was convinced his book should accord her life some importance, likewise her death. Meredith on the other hand could – and should – be sidelined.

  As Sholto fidgeted in his chair, I could tell his discomfort wasn’t just physical. ‘You’ll have to help me out here, Jenny. I want Liz to feature in the book – it’s no less than her due – but I don’t want to give any credence to the idea that Alec was in some way responsible for the accident that killed her. We don’t really know what happened. He was the only witness and by all accounts, he was completely distraught. Incoherent with grief.’

  ‘You say, “by all accounts”. Can you talk me through what you do know and how you know it?’ When he hesitated, I added, ‘This is your book, Sholto. Your version of the accident is the one I want and that should avoid pointing the finger of blame at Alec.’

  ‘Well, I was the last on the scene. All I saw was absolute mayhem.’

  ‘Who else was there?’

  ‘Alec. Fergus. Meredith. Wilma. Meredith’s young man. Pam and her husband… There was a crowd of them, all milling around. I didn’t even see Liz lying on the ground, not for a while. I was trying to deal with Alec, who was wailing like a banshee.’

  ‘You said you were the last to arrive.’

  ‘I’m afraid I was.’

  ‘Who was the first, do you know?’

  ‘Meredith. She’d been in the stable seeing to her horse and when she heard all the commotion, she came out to see what had happened.’

  ‘Commotion? What had she heard?’

  Sholto looked down at the carpet and struggled to order his thoughts. ‘Alec on his bike… The horse rearing… Clattering hooves on the cobblestones… Liz’s scream and then the fall… Meredith said she heard all of that, but didn’t see any of it. It must have happened so quickly.’

  ‘Liz was thrown because the horse reared? Did something startle it?’

  Sholto gave me a stern look. ‘This isn’t going into the book, Jenny. I don’t care if you make something up or just leave things vague, but Alec is not to be mentioned.’

  ‘Of course. But it might be easier for me to write an incomplete account if I know what actually happened. That is, if you wouldn’t mind telling me. I imagine you don’t want me to ask Alec.’

  ‘Definitely not! Very well then… Liz died on Alec’s birthday.’ I looked up, aghast. ‘Yes, I know. The whole thing was quite appalling for him…. He’d been given a new bike and Zelda – who knew about the bike – had sent him one of those klaxon horns from France. You squeeze them and they make a terrible racket, like a high-pitched donkey. You know the sort of thing I mean?’

  ‘Yes, I do.’

  ‘Alec was delighted with it. But that horn caused the accident. Liz was probably mounting her horse – not the most docile of mares – when Alec cycled through the archway and into the courtyard, sounding his horn. The unfamiliar noise startled the mare and she must have reared up, throwing Liz to the ground. She can’t have been secure in the saddle, that’s why I think she might have been trying to mount at that particular moment. Anyway, the fall broke her neck, her arm and her collarbone.’ Sholto paused and took a mouthful of what must by now have been cold coffee, then resumed. ‘The frightened horse galloped off. It was a miracle Alec wasn’t trampled underfoot, but he did fall off his bike. Meredith said, when she ran out to see what had happened, Alec and Liz were both lying on the ground. Alec was crying, so she knew there couldn’t be too much wrong with him, so she went to see to Liz. She knew at once she was dead because of the angle of her head. So then she ran back to Alec and asked him what had happened. He told her the horse had reared when he tooted his horn and Liz had been thrown. She said the poor lad was completely beside himself, sobbing and screaming. That was certainly still the case when I arrived on the scene, but by then Wilma had taken charge of him. She asked if she could take him inside and Meredith said he should be spared any more questions as it was pretty clear what had happened.’

  Sholto exhaled and leaned back in his chair, looking pale. ‘So you see, it was just a tragic accident. A most unfortunate sequence of events. But Alec has always blamed himself for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I tried to tell him, time and again, that riding is a very dangerous sport. Liz could have had a fatal fall jumping a hedge! But he didn’t see it like that. Still doesn’t. If you want my opinion, Alec was so traumatized by what he saw that day, he’s never been able to think straight about it.’

  I could see Sholto was upset and decided he’d had enough. I closed my notebook and said, ‘We should stop there, Sholto. This has been really helpful for me, but gruelling for you. It must be upsetting having to go over all these painful events, but I do appreciate your frankness. It makes my job so much easier.’

  ‘I do feel rather tired, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Perhaps we should have called a halt earlier. I’m sorry, you must say if you—’

  ‘Oh, it’s not just the interview. I’ve not been sleeping well lately. I’ve never been one for nightmares or even dreams. A total lack of imagination is an essential qualification in my line of work. You couldn’t get to sleep on creaking Antarctic ice if you lay there thinking what would happen if it opened up beneath you! But I’ve been troubled by dreams lately… They disturb my nights and I find it hard to get back to sleep.’

  ‘What do you dream about?’

  ‘Well, that’s just it. I dream about Meredith! Now why should that be? Until you arrived, I barely gave her a thought. Perhaps that’s a shameful admission, but she died a long time ago. In fact I think of Liz far more often than Meredith, even though I was married to Meredith for much longer. I really loved her. Liz, I mean. Didn’t deserve her…’ Sholto’s eyes were now filmed with tears. He swallowed and said, ‘So it seems odd that I should dream about Meredith.’

  I stood up and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I think you should rest now. What about a nap before lunch? You’ve worked hard this morning.’

  ‘You’re sure you’ve got enough material? Because I don’t think I’d want to re-visit—’

  ‘Of course. If I have any further queries, I’ll ask Zelda. What would you like to talk about tomorrow? One of your adventures? What about that time you found yourself
adrift on an ice floe? I’m dying to hear about that.’

  His face brightened. ‘Oh, yes, that was interesting. The ice was breaking up beneath us and it was a mad scramble to get our tent and supplies off the detached floe and back on to terra firma. Fortunately when I was at Eton, I excelled at the long jump. But it was a close run thing. I don’t mind admitting, I thought my number was up.’

  Sholto was chuckling now, so I packed away my things, relieved to see him in better spirits. ‘Same time tomorrow then? And we’ll talk about your hair-raising adventures in the Antarctic.’

  ‘Thank you, Jenny. I look forward to it.’

  ‘So do I.’

  I’d got as far as the door and as I opened it, I turned to check on Sholto, still concerned our session might have taken too much out of him. He sat slumped in his chair again and was gazing round the room, his eyes darting back and forth.

  ‘What is it, Sholto? Are you all right?’ He didn’t answer, so I took a few steps back into the room and said, ‘Would you like me to stay with you for a while? Or should I fetch Wilma?’

  ‘No... No, thanks, Jenny. I’ll be fine. It’s just that… You know it’s the damnedest thing, but sometimes I could swear Meredith is actually in the room.’ He looked directly at me then and smiled faintly. ‘Sometimes I think I can smell her perfume. Isn’t that ridiculous?’

  My first response was one of blind anger, that Meredith should haunt this old man and disturb his sleep, but thinking fast, I decided the best plan was to respond with comforting clichés. Sholto needed reassurance, so I said, ‘The mind can play some funny tricks. I’m sure working on the book has stirred up a host of memories – many of them very painful for you. I expect your subconscious mind is disturbed. That’s probably why you’re sleeping badly and… imagining things,’ I added, embarrassed by my lie.

  ‘Oh, yes, very likely. Shackleton’s fourth man.’

  ‘I’m sorry?’

  ‘It’s an experience many people have had. Mountaineers. Polar explorers. Astronauts. Survivors of 9/11.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘The sense that someone else is present. A presence, encouraging you to make strenuous efforts to survive. Shackleton sensed it in Antarctica when he made that desperate trek across South Georgia. They all did. All three men thought there was a fourth. I’ve experienced that on expeditions, when I’ve been at death’s door. But that was different. I couldn’t identify the stranger, I was just aware of a benevolent presence, insisting I shouldn’t give up.’

  ‘So are you saying you feel as if there’s someone else in the room now?’

  ‘Yes. And somehow I know – or rather, I believe – that the third is Meredith. And I don’t think she’s feeling very benevolent. So very odd.’ He looked around the room again. ‘You don’t sense anything?’

  ‘No. Not in here.’

  It wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the whole truth either. But in that split second I had to make a decision, whether or not to confide in Sholto. I decided I should spare him. I had no reason to think he was in any danger and there was nothing I could do to protect him anyway. But I’d have to tell Alec.

  I took my leave with a heavy heart.

  ~

  I went downstairs and headed for my room, but before I got there I heard the distinctive creak of my door opening. I stepped back, still jumpy after my conversation with Sholto. I was relieved to see Alec emerge, holding a dustpan and brush. As he turned to close my door, I walked forward, calling his name softly.

  He looked up and smiled as I approached. ‘The deed’s done. You’ll not find a piece of china anywhere. Nor will Wilma when she does her rounds.’

  ‘She’s late today, isn’t she?’

  ‘I gave her the task of cleaning the Augean stables.’

  ‘The armoury?’

  He nodded. ‘She’ll have had her work cut out over there this morning and later she’ll give me a row about the unhygienic state of that kitchenette. Poor Wilma takes dirt as a personal affront. She sees it as her mission in life to eradicate it and I don’t make things easy for her.’

  ‘Thanks for clearing up. Did you see… anything odd?’

  ‘No. No sign of herself this morning.’

  ‘And did you find the hatpin? I had a look round but I couldn’t find it.’

  ‘I put it beside the laptop.’

  ‘Thanks. You didn’t open—’

  ‘No, I didn’t touch the laptop.’

  ‘Neither did I. Couldn’t face it this morning. Did you hear any music earlier?’

  ‘Music?’

  ‘The harpsichord. I heard it when I was in the library.’

  ‘No. I heard nothing.’

  ‘Neither did Sholto. But he does sense her presence, Alec.’ His eyes widened. ‘He’s started dreaming about her and says he sometimes senses her in the room.’

  ‘Had you said anything about last night?’

  ‘Of course not. We’d been talking about Meredith and Liz. I was just about to leave, when he came right out with it. He told me he sensed Meredith was in the room.’

  ‘Could you sense her?’

  ‘No, but I’d already heard the harpsichord and whenever I hear that, it’s as if she’s somehow got inside my head. Even when she’s not around, I imagine that she is.’

  Alec laid his hand on my arm. ‘Jenny, d’you see now why you must leave? She’s getting to you.’

  ‘No, she isn’t, I’m just being a wimp, that’s all. I can handle it, Alec. I just don’t want her getting to Sholto. I can look after myself, but he can’t. He’s old and infirm. And depressed about Cauldstane.’

  ‘Did he discuss selling up?’

  ‘Only to say he’s not prepared to do it. Not yet anyway. Do you think that’s what she wants? To drive you all out?’

  ‘Probably. All Sholto wants now is to hand over Cauldstane in good heart to his sons. The icing on the cake for him would be if it looked likely there’d be a new generation of MacNabs prepared to keep the old place going. His legacy is all he cares about now. So I imagine it’s all part of Meredith’s game plan that Sholto should sell up and Ferg and I should live out our days like monks because no woman will touch us for fear of invoking the MacNab curse.’

  ‘If you weren’t clutching a dustpan and brush, I’d show you exactly what I think of Meredith’s game plan.’

  Without speaking, Alec bent gracefully and placed the pan and brush on the floor. When he straightened up, I put my hand up to his head, threaded my fingers through the untidy curls and brought his face down to the level of mine. We kissed.

  When I came up for air, I stood with my arms round Alec’s narrow waist, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Then a thought struck me and I looked up.

  ‘Did you clean up my room without your sword?’

  He frowned. ‘A sword’s no good for sweeping.’

  ‘No, I meant did you venture in without any… protection?’

  ‘Och, no, I had my wee dirk. I never go anywhere without it.’

  I snuggled up again and as his arms pulled me tighter against his body, I murmured, ‘Is that a sgian dubh in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?’

  He laughed and we kissed again.

  ~

  My lighthearted mood was short-lived. Back in my room, I switched on the laptop and while I waited for it to load, I picked up the hatpin Alec had placed on the table. I stared at it, as if close examination would give me some clue as to why Meredith had left it in my room.

  I put the pin inside my pencil case and zipped it shut, then I opened up my Cauldstane notes. I’d resolved that if Meredith’s rants were still there, I would delete them, but a part of me hoped they would already be gone. I scrolled to the end of my notes and was dismayed to see her rambling narrative. Furious, I highlighted the text, scrolling down, preparing to delete every word. Then I saw there was a new message at the end. A long one. I should have just carried on scrolling and deleted everything. But I didn’t. I stopped and read
it.

  When, some time later, Alec knocked on my door and asked if I was going down to lunch, he found me lying on the bed. I told him I had a headache and wasn’t hungry. He offered to make me a sandwich and bring it upstairs, but I told him I just wanted to be left alone. He asked if Meredith had left me any more messages and I said no. He looked relieved, then went downstairs for lunch.

  I felt awful lying to him, but I didn’t really have a choice. If I’d told him she had, he would have asked what it said and there was no way I could let Alec read what she’d written this time.

  I suppose that’s when things started to go wrong. Really wrong. When I had to lie to Alec. And it was all Meredith’s doing.

  ~

  You can have no idea what it’s like to watch yourself die.

  I’d watched my own death many times on videotape. My deaths as Tosca, Cio-Cio-San and Desdemona were immortalized on film. My greatest theatrical triumph was playing a dead woman: Eurydice, the beloved wife who’s brought back from the Underworld by her desperate, grieving husband.

  It’s quite something to go into a theatre, sign in, put on your make-up and costume, warm up, knowing you’re going to die later on in the evening; that you’re going to be stabbed or smothered, or that you’ll leap to your death from castle battlements. It’s upsetting. Disturbing. Thank God for the curtain call when you can come back on stage and lap up all the applause. “I am the resurrection and the life.” Well, not quite, but you know what I mean.