‘Did you see anything else?’
‘No.’
‘You’re sure you didn’t see anyone else?’
‘Well, Alec was on the bridge beside me. Until he started running.’
‘But you didn’t see anyone in the river with me?’
‘No.’
Fergus looked uneasy, as if he anticipated my next question. ‘But I referred to someone else, didn’t I? And you didn’t understand. Can you remember what I said?’
‘Aye. You said, “Don’t worry about me, just go and get some rope. Before the child falls in.” Something like that.’
I nodded. ‘And do you remember what you said in reply?’
‘I think I said, “What child?” ’
‘Yes, you did. Thanks, Fergus. I’m sorry for the interrogation, but I’m trying to demonstrate something to Sholto. Do you happen to know if Alec’s about?’
‘He’s in the kitchen. Or he was a few moments ago.’
I glanced at Sholto, then said, ‘Would you ask him to come up to the library, please?’ Fergus now looked as confused as Sholto, but he said nothing and left.
As soon as the door closed, Sholto said, ‘What the hell happened that day, Jenny? Please tell me the truth, however incredible the truth may be.’
I spoke quickly, wanting to explain before Alec arrived. ‘I saw the child Fergus couldn’t see. She was standing on the stepping stones. She was crying and I thought she might fall in at any moment, so I rang Fergus, then Alec. I told them to come to the river, then I went in to try to rescue her.’
‘Did Alec see this child?’
Before I could reply, there was another knock at the door. I fixed Sholto with a look. ‘Ask him. He knows what I saw that day and I know what he saw. We compared notes.’
Sholto called, ‘Come in.’
Alec smiled when he saw me. I felt mean, knowing what I was about to do, but I returned his smile, registering an impulse – a strong one – to move towards him and take his hand, but I remained seated.
Sholto had evidently clocked his son’s smile and looked from Alec to me, then back again, even more perplexed. He rose and walked round his desk, so that he stood beside my chair. If Alec faced Sholto, he could hardly fail to register my reactions.
‘Alec,’ Sholto said, leaning on his stick. ‘I’ve been talking to Jenny about the time you pulled her out of the river.’ The remnants of Alec’s smile disappeared and he looked at me for guidance. I met his helpless gaze as Sholto continued. ‘She says there was a child in difficulties. That’s why she went in. To rescue her. Is this true?’
The next few seconds were agonizing. I watched Alec calculate whether there was any way he could lie his way out of telling Sholto the truth and whether he’d be able to live with himself if he did. He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and, his eyes cast down, said, ‘Aye, that’s right. She must have been one of the kids on the estate.’
‘You recognised her?’
He hesitated for only a second. ‘No, I didn’t.’
‘What happened to her?’
Alec made a show of folding his arms and gazing through the library window. I couldn’t bear to watch any more and looked away.
‘When Jenny fell in, the wee girl ran back across the stones. Then she disappeared into the woods. At least, I assume that’s where she went. I wasn’t paying any attention. I was kicking off my shoes so I could go in after Jenny. I wasn’t worried about the girl,’ he added, with a bitterness I felt sure would not escape Sholto.
There was a long silence. When I looked up, Alec appeared to be studying the contents of a neighbouring bookcase. Sholto gripped his stick, then cleared his throat noisily before saying, ‘Alexander, I regret to say I know you are lying to me – possibly for the first time in your life. Most regrettable. You see, I’ve already spoken to Fergus about this and he said – emphatically – that there was no child. Your story makes perfect sense. Ferg’s does not. Which leads me to conclude – paradoxically – that Fergus is the one who’s telling me the truth.’
Alec stood very tall and looked his father in the eye. ‘There was a child. Fergus just didn’t see her.’
‘Why? I’m not aware there’s anything wrong with his eyesight.’
‘He couldn’t see her because—’ Alec looked down at me in desperation. I nodded quickly. ‘Because she was a ghost. I didn’t see her run away. That was a lie and for that I apologise. The last thing I remember before I went in was the girl laughing and pointing at Jenny as she went under.’
‘And that, I presume is why you wanted Jenny to leave,’ Sholto said, gravely. ‘And why you want me to sell up. Because you believe this ghost – Meredith’s ghost – can kill.’
‘I know she can’t. If she could, I’d be dead by now. Meredith has no power to kill, but she can put folk in harm’s way. I believe she was responsible for Coral’s death. She tried the same trick on Jenny, who also fell for it.’
‘Even supposing I can bring myself to believe there are such things as ghosts – malevolent ghosts! – why would Meredith wish Coral any harm? Or Jenny for that matter? She never even knew Jenny.’
‘I believe Meredith wishes to hurt Jenny for the same reason she wanted to hurt Coral. She’ll not tolerate any rival. I believe after she died, she haunted Coral, bullied her to the point of breakdown, then engineered her death. Even before Meredith tried the same thing with Jenny, I’d suspected she might be… at risk.’
‘But why?’ Sholto asked.
‘Because of the way Meredith felt about me. And… because of the way I feel about Jenny.’
‘Ah! I see.’ Sholto took a moment to digest Alec’s words. ‘Well, I’ll say this for you, Alexander, you have excellent taste in women. And I presume from the way you’re talking, Jenny feels the same way about you?’
Alec’s mouth twisted in a wry smile. He looked at me and said, ‘She’s given me good reason to believe so, aye.’
‘Splendid!’
‘But I also have reason to believe Jenny will never be safe at Cauldstane. Possibly she’ll never be safe around me.’ I started to protest, but Alec raised a hand. ‘Hear me out, Jenny.’ He turned back to Sholto. ‘I want to give my family a chance to escape Meredith’s influence. I think she wants to break us. And I’m sick and tired of fighting her. Of fearing her. That’s why I want out. I don’t think Meredith was right in the head when she was alive and she doesn’t seem any more kindly disposed towards the MacNabs in her ghostly incarnation.’
I could be silent no longer and rose from my chair. ‘But, Alec, what if you knew Meredith had done far worse? That she was even more wicked than you imagined? Wouldn’t you want to fight back? Wouldn’t you try anything to rid Cauldstane of her influence?’
‘You’re referring, I take it,’ Sholto said, ‘to – what was it called? – deliverance ministry?’
‘Yes, I am. Because I think this household needs to be delivered from evil. Evil you don’t even know about.’
Alec stared at me. ‘Are you saying you know something I don’t? Something about Meredith?’
‘Yes. And it’s something you should know, Alec. Something that will set you free. But at the same time, I dread you knowing.’ I looked at Sholto. ‘I dread both of you knowing. But I think you should. And it’s my dearest hope, that when you do know, you’ll fight back, whatever the consequences. I hope you’ll think you owe it to Liz.’
‘Liz?’ Sholto said sharply. ‘What’s Liz got to do with this?’
I got up and walked over to the door. I turned the key, then went back to my chair where I’d left my bag. I extracted the journal and as I removed its plastic wrapping, Sholto recognised it for what it was. ‘That’s one of Meredith’s diaries… I hope you don’t expect me to read that tosh.’
‘Sholto, I believe I’m doing the right thing, but it’s taken me a long time to come to this decision. I even consulted a priest about it. I wanted to be certain, you see. You asked me to destroy Meredith’s journals, but I thin
k you and Alec should read an entry in this one before it’s destroyed. I’d like you to read the pages I’ve marked. And in handing over this diary, I abdicate responsibility for destroying it. It’s up to you now what you do about this journal. What you do about Meredith.’
Sholto’s lower lip quivered. ‘Is this going to be something about Liz? Something bad?’
I nodded. ‘You must prepare yourself for a shock. A dreadful shock.’ I handed him the journal and he went back to sit at his desk. Alec was still standing, mystified. I moved over to him and took his hand in both of mine. We watched as Sholto opened the book at the place I’d marked and started to read. At first he frowned, as if he couldn’t follow, then his mouth fell open slightly. As he read on, the tears came. At one point he had to stop. He leaned back in his carved wooden throne of a chair and closed his eyes. I was about to leave Alec’s side to take the book away when Sholto mastered his emotions and continued reading to the end. Then, his chest heaving, he pushed the book away and wailed, ‘God damn you to Hell, Meredith!’ He started to wheeze, then gasp for air. Alec moved swiftly round the desk and attempted to put an arm round his father, but Sholto shoved him away. ‘Read it! Read it, Alec. Dear God in Heaven! All these years… And you blamed yourself!’
Alec picked up the journal and stepped away from the desk, his face very pale. Sholto’s breathing was still laboured, so I ran to the door, fumbled with the key and rushed out into the passage, shouting, ‘Wilma! Zelda! Somebody – come quickly!’
I ran back into the room to find Sholto hunched over his desk, weeping into a large handkerchief. ‘It can’t be true… It can’t. Alec, tell me it isn’t true!’ I bent over and put my arm around him, saying, ‘I’m so sorry, Sholto. Please forgive me. I’m so sorry!’ and I too started to cry.
Wilma ran into the room, followed by Zelda, who had a phone in her hand. She took one look at Sholto and started to tap numbers, saying, ‘Wilma, help me get him to bed. I’m calling the doctor.’
‘I think he might be suffering from shock,’ I said. ‘He’s had some very bad news.’
Sholto tried to speak, then started to choke, so I filled a glass with water from a drinks tray. I handed it to Wilma who managed to calm him enough to take a few sips. Then coaxing and cajoling him out of his chair, she took his arm and draped it round her shoulders, then she put an arm round his waist to hold him steady. Still speaking on the phone, Zelda ran round to Sholto’s other side. He hung between the two women, broken and bent, like an ancient crucified Christ, and they dragged him across the floor towards the door.
Looking back over her shoulder, Zelda barked, ‘Find Alec. I don’t know where he went, but he should be with his father. Find him, will you, Jenny?’
Astonished, I looked around the room for Alec, but he was gone. So was the journal.
I hurried out of the library and hurtled down the stairs, calling his name.
~
The armoury. That’s where Alec would have gone. Ignoring the falling snow, I ran across the courtyard and found the door open and the light on. I went in and looked around but saw no one. Suspicious, I checked the little kitchenette at the back. There was no sign of him, but he must have turned on the light. To read the journal?... And then he’d left. To go where? His car was still in the courtyard, so he couldn’t have gone far. Perhaps he’d taken the journal to the bridge, intending to dispose of it in the river. I left the armoury and closed the door behind me.
Snow was falling steadily now, but I headed for the archway and the path to the river, my feet crunching on the cobblestones. I wondered if I should return to the castle to pick up a coat from the assortment hanging by the back door, but I decided not to waste the time. I was wearing a long, chunky jumper – standard draught-excluding uniform at Cauldstane – and jogging to the bridge would keep me warm.
Moving away from the castle’s lights and into the shadows, I saw a movement against the wall, near the archway. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, a pale shape at around waist-height emerged from the dense blackness. I was frightened, but I kept walking. As I approached, I could hear a light, high voice repeating something over and over, like a nursery rhyme. Was I about to come face to face with Meredith? My nerve failed me and I came to a halt a few paces from a figure crouched against the old stone wall. In as fierce a voice as I could muster, I called, ‘Who’s there?’
There was no answer, nor any movement. The recitation continued. I took one step closer, then another, until I could make out the words.
‘Your mummy’s dead and it’s all your fault… Your mummy’s dead and it’s all your fault…’
Alec was sitting on the ground, hugging his knees, rocking backwards and forwards, repeating Meredith’s words. His voice was child-like, but rhythmic and toneless. He stared into space, unblinking and his face was very wet – with tears or melted snow, I couldn’t tell. His eyes were wide, but unseeing.
I kneeled down and said, ‘Alec, it’s me. Jenny. Will you come indoors? It’s very cold out here and you’re soaking wet.’
He didn’t respond or even pause in his heart-rending chant. ‘Your mummy’s dead and it’s all your fault… Your mummy’s dead and—’
‘It’s not your fault, Alec. It never was. You know that now. The journal said so, didn’t it?’ There was a moment’s hesitation, his eyes flickered and he blinked several times, very quickly, as if something had got through, but then he resumed chanting and rocking. I raised my voice slightly. ‘It was Meredith’s fault, not yours. But she blamed you. Do you remember what she said? What she told you to say?’
He broke off, threw his head back and yelped, as if in pain. Then, his voice much lower, he snapped, ‘Don’t try to get away. Stand still! Stop crying and listen. This is what happened...’ He started to weep, but it sounded like a child crying. I edged closer and said, ‘It’s all right, Alec. She’s gone. It’s only me. Jenny.’ He screwed up his eyes and spoke quickly, the words tumbling out. ‘I couldn’t breathe. She was holding me tight and squashing me. And I felt sick. There was a smell. A horrible sickly smell. Meredith’s smell. I couldn’t breathe! There was just her smell and her hands holding me. Hurting me.’ He covered his ears. ‘And she was shouting!’ He reverted to an adult voice again. ‘You came through the arch and you sounded your horn. That frightened the horse and your mummy fell off. You saw it. You saw it happen. Your mummy’s dead and it’s all your fault. Do you hear me, Alec? Your mummy’s dead and it’s all your fault.’
‘No, it isn’t – and it never was! Meredith lied. And we know it was a lie because it says so in her book. Where is that book? What did you do with it when you’d read it?’ He turned and looked at me, his eyes still blank. ‘Alec, will you let me hold your hand?’ He offered no resistance, so I took his frozen fingers in mine and began to chafe them. ‘Do you remember what you read in the diary? It explains what really happened that day. It wasn’t your fault at all. Please believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you.’
He looked confused, but then he turned, brushed away some snow with his hand and picked up the journal. ‘Is this it?’ he asked, still in his child’s voice. ‘Does it say in there what happened?’
‘Yes.’ I took the book and opened it at random. It was too dark to see anything, but I pretended to read. ‘Alec wasn’t to blame. It was all my fault. I frightened Liz’s horse, she fell off and she died. It was nothing to do with Alec. He wasn’t even there. Did you hear, Alec? You weren’t even there!’
‘Is that book true?’
‘Completely true.’
‘It wasn’t my fault?’
‘No, it was Meredith’s fault. And your father knows it wasn’t your fault.’
‘Does Ferg know?’
‘Not yet, but we’re going to tell him.’
‘Does Wilma know it wasn’t me?’
‘No, but we’re going to tell her too. We’re going to tell everyone, just as soon as we get back indoors.’
‘Does… Did Mummy think it was my fault?’
‘But she saw me. She was lying on the ground and her eyes were looking up at me!’
‘They weren’t, Alec, my love. She was already dead, but her eyes were still open. She died before you fell off your bike. Before the horse galloped past you.’ I squeezed his trembling hand. ‘You must have been so frightened.’
‘I thought I was going to die. And then… then I wished I had died.’ I threw my arms around him, doubting that the meagre warmth of my body would make any difference to the chill of his, but I held him anyway. His body felt rigid, then he suddenly sagged against me and started to sob. To my utter relief, I realised this was the man crying. He clung to me and I made soothing noises, stroked his wet face, told him I loved him and I don’t know what else. Then a shaft of bright light fell across the courtyard. The back door was open and someone was coming out. A long, thin shadow was cast across the courtyard and Sholto stepped into the light, making an entrance like an actor onto the stage, except that he was wearing pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers.
Raising his stick and holding it aloft, he announced, in a clear voice that echoed off the ancient stones, ‘I, Sholto Alexander James MacNab hereby declare war on all the powers of darkness. I will not be moved from this, my ancestral home – not until I leave it in a coffin! I solemnly swear that I will renounce all fear and fight in a manner worthy of the name MacNab to protect my family, my home and all those who shelter beneath my roof. Timor omnis abesto! Let fear be far from all!’
Alec had sat up at once, alert at the sound of his father’s voice. He now got to his feet and I followed, my limbs stiff and numb with cold.
‘Dad, what the hell are you doing out here? Get back inside before you fall and break something! Where’s Wilma? She’ll give you a row if she finds you out here in your jammies.’
Sholto peered into the darkness. ‘Alexander? Just the man I wanted to see. I regret to inform you that I’ve changed my mind. I have decided to take Cauldstane off the market. I refuse to be driven out by that whore, so I shall be sitting tight until the bailiffs remove the last chair from beneath my skinny backside. Sorry if this decision fails to meet with your approval, but my mind is made up.’ He brandished his stick again and shouted, ‘Let that harpy do her worst! I shall be ready for her.’
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