Cauldstane

by Gillard, Linda

  ‘Does the family have anything to sell? Jewellery? Paintings? What about the harpsichord? How much is it worth?’

  ‘A lot, but not a million. Aye, it could go, if you can persuade Sholto. But he’s not good at getting rid of stuff. I know for a fact that somewhere in the attic there’s a Hornby train set he and Torquil used to play with. That would fetch a good price on eBay,’ Fergus said with a grin.

  ‘Alec told me there are a lot of paintings.’

  ‘There are, but I don’t know if any of them are worth much. No one’s ever really looked at them. Torquil started making an inventory of Cauldstane valuables because he knew we were massively under-insured. But then he became ill and abandoned it. Sholto’s never bothered because he knows he couldn’t afford the insurance premiums. But as far as I know, we’re not sitting on any Rembrandts. More’s the pity.’

  Fergus fell silent but didn’t seem in any hurry to depart, so I said, ‘Would you mind if I asked you another question? I’d really like to know what you remember about your mother’s death. I’ve talked to Sholto and Alec, but I’d really like to have a complete picture. If you don’t mind.’

  He frowned. ‘I don’t think I actually remember much. I was only five. It’s hard now to distinguish my memories from what I was told had happened. I remember crying and Sholto picking me up. But I think I was crying because Alec was crying. I didn’t know why he was crying and I certainly didn’t realise Ma was dead. You don’t really understand death at five. I mean, I’d had pets that died and I’d seen animals hanging in the game larder. Dad had friends who came and shot things for fun and I knew that was somehow OK, it was called sport. But I didn’t understand about death and humans.’

  ‘Who told you your mother was dead?’

  ‘Dad, much later. He told me there’d been an accident and Ma was badly injured, then he took me away indoors. I remember that. I wanted to be with Alec, but Wilma had taken him off somewhere. There were other folk around. Meredith and her sister, Pam. There might have been others. It was a bit of a house party that weekend. We were supposed to be going fishing and they’d said I could come. I remember being very excited about that, but it didn’t happen. That’s how Dad broke the news to me. He came into the old nursery where Alec and I used to play. Pam and I were doing a jigsaw. Dad asked her to leave, then he sat down and pulled me on to his lap and held me. He said he was very sorry, but we wouldn’t be going fishing after all. I started to cry again. I don’t think I was crying about the fishing. At some level I think I already knew why we weren’t going. Then Dad said Ma had fallen off her horse and been killed. I’d be lying if I told you I remember anything after that.’

  ‘Did Sholto tell you Alec had caused the accident?’

  ‘Och, no! He said it was the mare’s fault. But Alec told me he’d frightened the horse with his horn.’

  ‘When did he tell you that?’

  ‘When he gave me his bike. He said he didn’t want it any more and that I could have it. I asked him why he didn’t want it. First of all he said he just didn’t want to ride it any more. I couldn’t understand that. I thought there must be some sort of catch – it was a brand new bike! I kept asking Alec why he didn’t want the bike. Made a real nuisance of myself. Then in the end he told me. About causing the accident. I was pretty angry with him, but at the same time he was offering me his bike… It was confusing for a five-year old. But self-interest won. I accepted the gift. I’ve often wondered whether that was Alec’s way of saying sorry. Sorry he’d been responsible for the death of our mother. I don’t know. We were two unhappy wee boys, with a grief-stricken father who wasn’t coping. Wilma was very kind. So was Zelda. They both did their best to compensate, but things were never the same without Ma. Before she died, folk laughed and smiled. We were one big happy family. Then the sun went in and we seemed to enter a perpetual winter. But maybe I’m just talking about growing up. When you look back on your childhood, you think the sun was always shining.’

  ‘Even in the Highlands?’

  Fergus laughed. ‘Oh, aye, even in the Highlands.’

  ‘Did you get on with your stepmother?’

  His face clouded over. ‘As a kid, I hated her – and I think the feeling was mutual. Fortunately she took very little notice of me. She always preferred Alec.’ I shot Fergus a sidelong glance, wondering how much he knew, but to judge from his far-off expression, he was still wrapped up in childhood memories. ‘Alec was the clever one. He worked hard at school. He was good at sport, but he was quiet. He’d been the quiet one before Ma died and afterwards… well, Alec was just silent. I wasn’t. I was noisy, dirty, naughty – as wee boys are – and I’m pretty sure Meredith detested me. So I was always keen to get back to school. Which I loved.’

  ‘Did you get on any better with Meredith when you were an adult?’

  Fergus heaved a sigh, then said, ‘I’ll be straight with you, Jenny – no, I didn’t. When I was young, she couldn’t measure up to my mother – nobody could – and when I was older, I saw that she didn’t make Dad happy. And she was often nasty to Coral for some reason. We shouldn’t speak ill of the dead, but if you want my honest opinion – and this is off the record, mind – Meredith was a selfish bitch. Talk to Zelda if you want a kinder assessment. Or Wilma. Meredith was good to her in a lady-of-the-manor sort of way. Meredith liked having servants, whereas the rest of us think of Wilma as family almost. She was brilliant when Ma died and she was only a young woman then. You forget, seeing her now. Wilma was much the same age as Meredith and when Ma died, Wilma took on running Cauldstane, supervising us, holding Dad together. He and Wilma became quite close I think. He grew to rely on her. We all did. If you’re writing a book about Dad and Cauldstane, Wilma should have her own chapter.’

  ‘I’d come to the same conclusion myself, but it’s up to Sholto. He dictates the content. I’m just his mouthpiece.’

  ‘Och, Wilma would hate the attention anyway. But she’s a grand lady and we all owe her a great deal. She’s an honorary MacNab. In fact, I often think how different things might have been if Dad had married Wilma, not Meredith.’ He glanced at his watch and said, ‘If you’ll excuse me, Jenny, I need to get cleaned up before dinner. I’ll see you later, no doubt.’

  He walked back down to the riverbank, climbed on to the mower and turned on the ignition. He gave me a wave, then set off along the path. After a few moments he was out of sight. After a few more, the river drowned the distant sound of his engine. I decided to continue my walk and crossed over to the opposite bank.

  I hadn’t been walking for long when I heard another shout, a child’s voice this time. I turned and saw a small dark-haired girl, about seven or eight, skipping along the riverbank, perilously close to the edge. I wasn’t sure if she was one of the children I’d seen earlier. She was singing to herself, some tuneless rhyme, while hopping over stones and tussocks of grass. I waited to see if an accompanying adult would appear from the woods. When no one came, my stomach began to squirm with anxiety. I set off in the direction of the little girl, walking quickly to catch her up before she could come to any harm. Reaching into my bag, I grasped my phone, unsure who to ring. I took my eyes off the child for only a moment while I scrolled down and selected Fergus’ number, but by the time I looked up again, she was gone.

  I started to panic, then realised the bridge possibly obscured my view of her. I hurried on, my phone pressed to my ear, waiting for Fergus to pick up, but my call went straight to voicemail. As I listened impatiently to his recorded instructions, I heard the sound of crying. As it built to a wail, I left a breathless message. ‘Fergus, it’s Jenny. Could you ring me? It’s urgent.’

  I ran on, looking to left and right, trying to locate the crying child. I went back on to the bridge and looked up-river. To my horror I saw she was now standing on the Blood Stone, her shoes and socks soaked by the water that flowed past her, its course divided by the big flat stone. From my raised viewpoint it was obvious she’d picked her way across the water
via a series of stepping stones – stones I didn’t recollect seeing before, but which were now revealed just level with the surface of the water. The child screamed as the icy water splashed her legs. She hopped from one foot to the other, trying to keep her legs out of the water, then she slipped and landed on her bottom.

  I cried out, expecting to see her swept away by the torrent, but she gamely clambered to her feet again. Even before she was standing, I’d descended to the riverbank again and was running towards her, shouting, ‘It’s all right! I’m coming to get you. Don’t move!’

  I still had my phone in my hand and as I stepped onto the stones at the river’s edge, I selected Alec’s number and put the phone to my ear. Keeping my eyes on my feet, I chose the flattest stones and tested them gingerly before letting them bear my weight. After a few steps I could see the water was suddenly much deeper and flowed faster. There was no doubt that if the child fell into the river, she’d be swept away.

  Alec answered his phone but before he had time to say anything, I shouted, ‘Come down to the river. By the bridge. Now. It’s an emergency.’ He hung up without asking a single question. I slipped my phone into the pocket of my cardigan and hoisted the strap of my shoulder bag over my head, so the bag hung across my body. Then extending both arms for balance, I attempted to step on to the next stone.

  The child was strangely quiet now as she watched me, her chest still heaving. I smiled at her and called out, in what I hoped was a reassuring voice, ‘Don’t worry, I’m coming to get you. Just stand very still.’ She said nothing, her dark eyes expressionless and her face sullen, but she folded her arms – an oddly adult gesture, as if she was waiting for me to join her, but I supposed she was trying to keep herself warm.

  I had no idea how I was going to get the girl back on to the riverbank and I didn’t like to think what would happen if I fell into the water. I wasn’t even a good swimmer, but Alec was on his way from the armoury, only minutes away. I assumed between us we’d be able to rescue her, but I cursed myself for not telling him to bring some rope. I wished Fergus would ring back. Maybe he’d have some in his trailer.

  Looking down, I saw that the next stone now lay beneath the water. It would require an act of faith to put my weight on it, but it had obviously born the weight of the girl, so I assumed it must be stable. She was watching me closely now and, seeing me hesitate, she started to whimper.

  ‘It’s all right, I’m coming! Just stand very still and I’ll be right there.’

  She looked up sharply in the direction of the bridge and her little face twisted into a scowl. I turned my head and saw Alec and Fergus standing on the bridge, leaning over the parapet. My legs almost gave way with relief.

  Alec bellowed, ‘Jenny, what the hell are you doing? For Christ’s sake, don’t move!’ Then he started to run.

  The girl began to sob and held her arms out towards me, her eyes wide with terror. ‘Don’t worry about me,’ I shouted. ‘Just go and get some rope before the child falls in!’ With that, I raised one foot and prepared to step down into the rushing water, onto the sunken stone. As I did so, Fergus, still on the bridge, yelled, ‘What child?’

  I knew then. I understood everything. The child. Coral’s death. The trap that had been laid for her, then for me. I knew as my foot descended, feeling for the stone I’d seen beneath the water, that it would no longer be there.

  I threw myself backwards, but it was too late. My body’s momentum was too strong and I lost my balance. As I fell, I heard Alec cry out. The child clapped her hands and squealed with delight, as if I’d done something very clever. Screaming, I reached out towards the Blood Stone, but the river was already sweeping me away. My last sight and sound was the child pointing and laughing at me, then the water surged over my head.

  As it dragged me downstream towards the bridge, the river slammed me against submerged rocks. I clutched at every obstacle I hit, but I couldn’t stop or even slow my passage through the water. The sun disappeared as the current swept me under the bridge and towards the bank. I came to a jarring halt and fought my way to the surface. Flailing around, I tore the skin of my arms, but I quickly established that I was being held by the strap of my shoulder bag which had caught on a branch of a fallen tree lodged among the rocks. Relief was soon dispelled as I realised the river continued to submerge me. Only by kicking furiously was I able to keep my head above water and my legs were beginning to tire already.

  I threw up an arm, trying to grab a branch above me so I could hang and pull my head up out of the water, but I missed and slipped down again, falling through the loop made by the strap of my bag. I twisted violently, grabbing the strap that would keep me attached to something solid. It slid suddenly and my neck was jerked backwards. As the leather noose tightened round my throat, I pulled frantically, trying to loosen it, but my body turned again, spun by the force of the current, and the strap increased its stranglehold. I kicked with all my might and managed to raise my head above water long enough to gulp down some air. Above me in the gloomy shadows under the bridge, I saw something hanging from a branch of the dead tree, something that looked like another strap, another small bag. But it wasn’t a bag, it was a camera. Coral’s camera. It had hung there, in its nylon case, for seven years.

  I reached up again, caught hold of the thick shoulder strap and pulled on it. It yielded, then held. It bore some of my weight while I tried to free my neck with my other hand. Tugging with useless frozen fingers, I managed to loosen the leather’s deadly hold, but I couldn’t free myself. I tried to scream for help, but no sound came from my swollen throat.

  Above the roar of the river, I suddenly heard a machine start up, not far away. I couldn’t place the sound, then realised it was the whine of a chain saw. The noise stopped suddenly and beyond the arch of the bridge, I saw a tree slowly descend into the water, its topmost branches reaching out into the middle of the river. As it hit the water, there was a backwash and my head was submerged again.

  As the water subsided, I heard a voice shouting my name. I turned and looked upstream. Alec was in the water, trying hard to swim towards me, but he was being swept towards the middle of the river. I thought he was going to sail past, but he plunged towards me, shouting, ‘Kick out your legs! Towards me!’ I obeyed and felt him grab my foot, then grasp my leg. As his weight pulled me down, the strap tightened round my neck again. He saw what was happening and quickly clawed his way over to the dead tree. He looked at me, horrified, then with one hand tried, as I’d tried, to loosen the strap that was biting into my neck. He gave up and reached down into the water. He appeared to be struggling with his sock but after a moment he produced a small knife, his sgian dubh.

  He sliced through the strap of my bag and loosened its hold round my neck, shouting, ‘Hold tight to the tree now.’ He swept dark, wet curls out of his eyes and said, ‘Here’s what we do. We’re going to stay together and we’re going to float downstream till we hit that tree. Ferg is sitting on it and he’s going to help us. So what I want you to do is this: just float down with the current. I’ll be holding you and we’re going to travel on our backs to protect our eyes from the tree. You keep yours closed, OK? It’ll be like life-saving. I’ll put my arm round your neck – like this – and your body will lie on top of mine. D’you understand, Jenny?’ I found I couldn’t speak, so I nodded. ‘If we stick together, we’ll be heavy and move more slowly. I’ll be able to steer us towards the tree. The important thing is to stay still and stay together. Just act like you’re dead.’

  ‘That,’ I croaked, ‘won’t be difficult.’ My voice sounded strange and harsh, as if it belonged to someone else.

  Alec’s smile was brave, if not genuine. I realised then how afraid he was, afraid his plan wouldn’t work, but I was too exhausted to care. I just wanted to sleep for ever. He shook me and said, ‘Jenny, look at me! I’m going to take you down now, then we’re going to hit that tree.’

  It occurred to me then that, quite possibly, Alec and I were both about to
die. But there was something he needed to know, something he shouldn’t blame himself for. I opened my mouth to speak but the words wouldn’t come. Clinging to the branch with one arm, I pointed above my head, to where Coral’s camera dangled. He looked up, craning his neck. I saw him swallow, then his white, wet face seemed to turn grey. Unaccountably, I started to weep. ‘The little girl… Could you see her? It was Meredith, wasn’t it? She wanted to kill me too.’

  He put a hand up to my face. ‘Och, wheesht now! I have my wee blade. She cannot harm me and I won’t let her harm you.’ His words were defiant, but his dark eyes were blank with shock. ‘Come on, Jenny, we can do this! Are you ready?’

  I nodded, wincing at the pain in my neck. Alec worked his way behind me, holding on to the tree roots and I felt a sense of relief as the relative warmth of his body met the chill of mine. He put an arm round my neck, like a wrestler and said in my ear, ‘Get ready to let go when I say so. But don’t kick or use your arms. Just play dead. I’m your life raft, OK?’ His left arm tightened round my neck as his hand gripped my shoulder. He pulled me back towards him and I felt his body floating underneath mine. ‘Let go, Jenny. This is it.’

  The gnarled branch that had preserved my life for the last few minutes slipped from my fingers and we moved off through the water, alarmingly fast. Underneath me Alec was kicking his legs, frantically trying to steer us against the current and towards the river bank. I lay on my back, motionless as instructed, staring up at a cloudless sky. It was a fine day to drown. Had it been a day like this when Coral had died? A large bird swooped into my field of vision and hovered above us, apparently still, apart from the delicate flick of its tail. I recognised the red kite and for who knows what reason, I started to cry again. The warmth of my tears startled, then comforted me.