Cauldstane

by Gillard, Linda

  This realisation was unsettling, but I couldn’t say why. Just a deep mistrust of Meredith, I suppose. It was spectacularly convenient of Liz to die after Sholto had refused to divorce her. But accidents do happen, as Meredith had pointed out in one of her vile rants. What exactly had she said?...

  For a moment I chastised myself for deleting her messages, then remembered I hadn’t actually done what I’d intended. When I’d spotted her latest communication – a death threat, virtually – I’d stopped what I was doing to read it. Afterwards I’d lain down on the bed, my heart pounding with anger and fear.

  Without quite knowing why, I resolved to save all messages in future, however painful. (Was I collecting evidence to use against a ghost?) I opened up another window and scrolled until I found the section I was looking for.

  Riding is a dangerous sport and horses are unpredictable. Liz wasn’t the most expert of riders and her mare was temperamental. That’s what I said to Sholto – to anyone who’d listen, in fact. “Accidents happen.”

  Especially to the MacNabs.

  Nothing incriminating there. Callousness, yes, but no indication of anything sinister, other than a possible allusion to the MacNab curse. Nevertheless, I still felt something wasn’t right, but could see no way to investigate the circumstances of the accident, not after all this time and not without bothering Alec.

  I abandoned my attempt to write and turned instead to that great time-eater, Google. I put in a search for “post-traumatic stress disorder” and “children”. Some of the psychiatric jargon was impenetrable, but the plain English sites were helpful, if depressing. There was a lot of stuff about physical and sexual abuse, less about witnessing or being involved in accidents. Generally it seemed children were pretty resilient, but witnessing a death, especially the death of a parent or carer, was likely to cause PTSD.

  In children PTSD is associated with increased likelihood of worsening school performance and subsequent employment problems, increased risk of depression and anxiety disorders in adulthood, behavioural problems and substance misuse, increased chronic disease and problems forming stable relationships.

  How much of that had Alec been through? I remembered he’d dropped out of university and Meredith had described him as a quiet, morose child, but as she clearly hated children, she was hardly a reliable witness.

  I read on and found this on a discussion board…

  If PTSD is still there after a year it's probably going to be lifelong in some form or another.

  Could Alec still suffer from post-traumatic stress disorder? Probably hard to tell if you’re being haunted by a ghost. Was he haunted by a ghost because of his mental instability, the way poltergeists are supposed to home in on troubled adolescents? But it seemed likely Coral was also haunted by Meredith. So for that matter was I. Was that what we all had in common? Mental instability? Or just some kind of fragility?

  I remembered being bullied at school for being a cry-baby because I blubbed at stories and films. Even sad songs could make me well up. I moved on to high school, hoping for a fresh start, but bullies still singled me out – not for crying, but for being academic, for being more interested in books than boys, for wearing the wrong kind of shoes. Did I just emanate vulnerability? And did I still? Was that why I sensed Meredith?

  I scanned another page and was astonished to discover that until the mid-1990s psychiatrists had been under the impression children didn’t suffer from PTSD. Liz had died in 1980. What were the chances of any trauma in Alec being diagnosed or even noticed, especially by a father who made light of frostbite and failed to mention two cracked ribs to his expedition leader because he “didn’t want to make a fuss”. I imagined Alec would have been left to get on with it, especially while he was away at school, where he would doubtless have followed his father’s stoical example.

  I was scrolling through more Google results when there was a tap at the door, followed by Alec’s voice saying. ‘It’s me. Are you busy?’

  ‘Yes. But come in anyway.’ I swivelled round in my chair as he entered.

  ‘I haven’t come for any reason.’ He shut the door and, still holding the handle, just stood there, looking at me with a soft, shy smile. ‘I just wanted to check you were OK. You seemed a wee bit nervous downstairs. But mainly I… well, I just wanted to look at you.’

  ‘Oh, Alec.’

  He raised a hand, palm outwards, as if to forestall my rising from the chair. ‘No, I’ll go now if you’re working. That smile’s set my mind at ease.’

  ‘Please stay! Sit with me for a while.’

  He obeyed, but as he set a chair beside me, I remembered what was on the laptop screen. I turned and quickly closed the window down, revealing my own work. I became flustered, trying to remember whether Meredith’s last message would be visible, so I just slapped the laptop shut and turned back to Alec.

  He eyed me with suspicion. ‘More messages from Meredith you don’t want me to know about? What are you trying to keep from me, Jenny? And why?’

  Ignoring the question, I said, ‘I’ve been researching PTSD. Post-traumatic—’

  ‘I know what it stands for. And I can guess why you’re researching it. But I don’t know why you won’t tell me what Meredith wrote.’

  I looked away. ‘Oh, it was just the usual bombastic nonsense.’

  ‘Threats?’ I didn’t answer. I didn’t want to lie again, nor did I want to tell him the truth. ‘Who was she threatening? Me? Or you? My guess it was you. That’s why you didn’t tell me. And that’s her style. It would drive a wedge between us. Which is of course what she wants. You’d have to lie in order to stop me worrying about you.’ I still said nothing and looked at Alec helplessly. He folded his arms and continued cheerfully, ‘If I was Meredith and I wanted to wreck Alec MacNab’s life again, I’d try to scare off his new woman. And she, being a plucky wee thing, wouldn’t confide in him. Och no, she’d tough it out on her own because she really likes Alec and she doesn’t want to be sent away.’ He paused. ‘Am I right?’

  ‘In every single respect, damn you.’

  He grinned. ‘Don’t be too hard on yourself! I’ve known this woman – this ghoul – for many a year. I know how she thinks. I watched her try to come between me and Coral. I knew as soon as I expressed an interest in you, Meredith would try to make me regret it.’

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘No. but I’m very sorry she’s taking it out on you. Will you please show me what she said?’

  ‘Not now. I’d like to talk to you about something else.’

  He sighed and said, ‘My mother’s death.’ It wasn’t a question.

  ‘Yes. Would you mind? It worries me that the only sources of information about what happened are a traumatised eight-year old and Meredith.’

  ‘Aye, I know, but I seem to have given her a surprisingly lucid account of what happened.’

  ‘Yes, that’s what bothers me.’

  ‘What d’you mean?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t know. It’s just something about the way she wrote about Liz.’

  ‘There was no love lost there, for sure, but my mother broke her neck falling off a rearing horse and I caused the horse to rear.’

  ‘Could you bear to tell me what happened? Briefly? I’ve heard Sholto’s version and I’ve read Meredith’s. He’s adamant no detail is going into the book and I’m happy with that. But the nerdy researcher in me thinks I should also hear the only eye-witness account.’

  ‘It was thirty-two years ago, Jenny. I’d only be telling you what I remember telling Meredith.’

  ‘Don’t you actually remember what happened?

  ‘Aye, but it’s hazy. It always was hazy. I’ve a clearer memory of what happened before and afterwards. I can tell you what book Wilma read me after it happened. The Velveteen Rabbit. I can still see the book now. It was one of my favourites.’

  ‘I had that one too! I loved it so much.’ I put my hand up to my mouth as I felt the tears come. ‘Oh, this is stupid! Honestly, the slighte
st thing sets me off. Sorry.’

  ‘Don’t apologise. You love books. They’ve been your life. I feel the same way about swords. The craftsmanship of a blade can make me feel all mushy inside.’

  ‘So you can remember that book clearly?’

  ‘Aye. It had belonged to my father and it was in a very precarious condition. Like the Velveteen Rabbit himself.’

  ‘But your memory of the accident is…vague?’

  ‘It was like a series of impressions. I could make little sense of it at the time.’

  ‘That’s what I wanted to hear really. Your impressions. Sholto told me how it actually happened.’

  Alec leaned forward, clasped his hands and rested his arms on his knees. His head was bowed, so I couldn’t see his face. ‘I just remember seeing my mother lying on the ground… and wondering what the hell she was doing there.’

  ‘What do you remember before that?’

  ‘Being excited about my bike. I’d cycled twice all the way round the castle and I came tearing through the archway into the courtyard. Then… well, there was a lot of noise.’

  ‘What sort of noise?’

  ‘Hooves clattering on the cobbles… the horse neighing… a woman screaming… my bloody klaxon… Cacophony.’

  ‘That’s what you remember most? The noise?’

  ‘Aye. And Ma lying on the ground. With blood coming out of her ear.’

  ‘But you must have seen her fall too. Sorry, Alec – just say if this is too much.’

  After a moment’s hesitation, he took a deep breath and, his voice matter-of-fact, launched into a speech. ‘I cycled into the courtyard, sounding my horn. The noise startled the mare, she reared up and Ma was thrown to the ground. Then the horse galloped off past me. I fell off my bike and lay there crying until Meredith came and asked me what had happened, what had frightened the horse. I told her it was me. It was my fault. I’d sounded my horn and that had startled the horse. She’d thrown Ma and galloped off.’

  ‘You told her all that?’

  ‘She made me tell her twice. I suppose I wasn’t making much sense.’

  ‘Sholto said you were wailing like a banshee.’

  ‘Probably.’

  ‘But you don’t remember?’

  ‘If I’m perfectly honest, Jenny—’

  He hesitated again. I reached out, laid a hand on his and quoted his words to me. ‘Why be anything else?’

  He shook his head. ‘My memories are… patchy.’

  ‘I suppose they must have faded over the years.’

  ‘I don’t think so. What happened that day never seemed crystal clear to me. Not like the day Coral drowned. Or the day I had to go and identify her body. I suppose being a child makes all the difference. It was all so confusing… And the horse was so bloody loud. I’ll never forget that. Or seeing Ma lying on the ground, with her eyes open. I could see all her teeth. It was like she was grinning up at me. As if she was pleased to see me. I remember that.’

  ‘Oh, Alec, I’m so sorry.’

  ‘Don’t be. It happened a very long time ago. We’ve all moved on. Ferg and I had a wonderful mother. We just didn’t have her for very long. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to work. I’ll see you at dinner?’

  ‘You think I’d miss Wilma’s pie?’ He smiled in answer, but his face looked drawn. ‘I think I’ll go out for a walk now. I feel the need for some fresh air.’

  He bent and kissed me gently. ‘You take care now. You’ll have your phone?’

  ‘Of course. Stop worrying about me!’ I stood up and turned to face him. Looking into those dark grey eyes, I saw concern. No, more than concern. I saw fear. Not fear for himself, fear for me. I lifted a hand to cup his face and he leaned into my palm, closing his eyes. I observed his long lashes and smooth forehead and wondered if I’d ever seen Alec look so peaceful. ‘It’s you she’s after, Alec. Not me. And I really can’t say I blame her. I’d fight for you too.’

  He opened his eyes, took me in his arms and we stood still, saying nothing for a long time, then he said, ‘Work’ and I said, ‘Walk’. We released each other and went our separate ways. But I double-checked I had my phone.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  It was a relief to be outdoors, out of the castle, away from my room and my laptop. It was a positive pleasure to be moving smartly across the courtyard, out of the long shadows of Cauldstane and into the autumn sunshine. I buttoned up my thick cardigan against the chilly breeze and headed for the stone bridge and riverside walk which had become my favourite.

  As I crossed the bridge, I averted my eyes from the Blood Stone projecting from the water. Instead, I gazed downstream at the brown water hurtling over the rocks. The movement and sounds entranced me, almost hypnotized me. I stared into the river from the bridge and for one vertiginous moment it was as if I was being drawn down towards the water; as if the current had the power to pull first my mind, then my body into the river.

  My reverie was interrupted by a shout, a male voice hailing me. I looked up to see Fergus on the opposite bank, seated on a ride-on mower, pulling a trailer. The trailer contained a barking collie and two dark-haired children. He waved and switched off the ignition, then turned and said something to the children who climbed out of the trailer, laughing and shrieking, then ran off into the woods followed by their dog. Fergus jumped off the mower and jogged up onto the bridge.

  ‘The Cauldstane taxi service, at your disposal, ma’am. Can I take you for a ride along the riverbank? Or into the woods? You looked a wee bit sad, staring down into the water. Is my father giving you a hard time?’

  ‘Not at all. He’s an absolute delight. Couldn’t be more helpful. But Cauldstane’s giving him a hard time, isn’t it?’

  ‘Aye, and so am I. Were you wanting to talk about that some time? As background for the book, I mean. Sholto and Alec will have given you the emotional and historical perspective. But there’s another point of view. Financial. Practical.’

  ‘Yes, I know. They’ve both been at pains to give me a balanced view of the problems you all face. But of course I’d also like to talk to you.’

  ‘Now?’

  ‘Do you have a few minutes?’

  He leaned on the bridge parapet. ‘Fire away.’

  ‘You want to sell up, don’t you? Put Cauldstane on the market.’

  ‘I don’t want to, but I think we should, aye.’

  I wasn’t quite sure how to proceed, how to avoid asking the bald question that would seem impertinent. I looked up at Cauldstane, at the mass of pale pink stone rising up incongruously above the steep river gorge. I gazed up at the window of my room and thought how lucky I was to be able to live here, if only for a few weeks. I thought of the MacNabs living here for centuries, then of the current incumbents having to leave. Finally, I blurted out the tactless words. ‘Fergus, how can you bear to think of leaving?’

  ‘I think of little else other than how we can stay. I have ideas. I’ve even drawn up business plans for some of them, but everything that could make Cauldstane commercially viable requires money in the first instance. We’re blessed with a lot of assets here, but cash isn’t one of them.’

  ‘What would your priorities be if you came into some cash?’

  ‘It would depend how much and whether the bank would lend us money on the strength of it.’

  ‘But you do have some ideas?’

  ‘Plenty.’

  Reaching into my shoulder bag for a notebook, I said, ‘Tell me about them. Imagine I was looking to invest in Cauldstane. How would you sell the idea to me?’

  Fergus grinned and launched into his sales pitch. ‘It would be a simple matter to renovate outbuildings and the empty houses on the estate. There are four houses and I reckon we have buildings that could be converted into three separate self-catering units. Let’s say we could average £250 a week for each of those – that’s a conservative estimate. You could charge a fortune for Christmas and Hogmanay, but you’d be unable to rent them out for much of the winte
r. So you’re probably talking about an annual rental income of somewhere between eighty or ninety thousand a year. Even after deductions, there would be enough left over to enable Alec to take on an assistant, which would allow him to double his output and thus his income. And that’s a major source of revenue for us. That money would allow us to smarten up the castle itself. Possibly open it to visitors – maybe just a couple of days a week to begin with. We could see how it went. But if we provided all the extras – a café, a wee souvenir shop where Sholto’s book would be on sale of course,’ Fergus added with a smile, ‘a plant stall, a picnic site, an adventure playground… You’re talking about a grand day out for the family. Folk might pay handsomely for a chance to snoop round a castle that’s still a family home.’

  ‘Do you have more rooms you could open up to show?’

  ‘Aye, and any amount of junk in the attics to furnish them. We’d need to get more toilets put in and who knows what else to comply with Health and Safety regulations, but plenty of other castle owners have done it. You need a few gimmicks of course. Falconry displays, open air concerts. Some added attraction.’

  ‘Alec could presumably put on some sort of historical swordsmanship show with some of his mates.’

  ‘Oh aye, he’d love that.’

  ‘And I’m sure if she used to run a restaurant, Zelda would be quite capable of running a café, especially with Wilma to help. Perhaps you could do candlelit dinners in the evenings.’

  Fergus nodded. ‘We’re thinking along the same lines, Jenny. Cauldstane could also be developed as a wildlife centre. We’ve got red kites as the main attraction, but there’s other bird life. And red squirrels. Badgers. Pine martens. We could build hides in the woods and have a nature trail. And the estate could be developed for sport. The river’s full of fish. Then there’s always weddings… There’s so much we could do, if we only had some cash. I just need someone to give me a million to get started. Then – just watch me! – I’d make this place earn its keep.’