by Amy M. Reade
I limped back to the couch and leaned back against my pillow. Seamus had somehow earned back my trust, just in the time it took for a quick conversation and an offer to make me lunch. He wasn’t a threat to me or to Sylvie.
CHAPTER 9
Sylvie was laden with grocery bags when she came home a bit later. Seamus unchained the lock to let her in.
“Why was the chain pulled?” she asked crossly. “I couldn’t get in, and this stuff is heavy.”
“There’s been a problem,” Seamus said. “Greer will tell you all about it.” He took the bags from her and went into the kitchen.
“What’s going on?” she asked, easing herself into a chair opposite me and crossing her legs. She gave me a questioning look while she nodded her head toward the kitchen. “Does he know I told you?” she whispered.
“No. At least, I don’t think so. I didn’t say anything.”
She noticed the heat pack I was pressing against my back. “What happened to you?”
I told her all about my encounter with the man at the cathedral and again in the gardens. She listened, her mouth agape.
“Who was it?” she demanded. “Have you told the police?”
“I don’t know who it was, and of course I’ve told the police. I’m waiting to hear whether they find anything on the cathedral security footage or in the gardens. I called them as soon as I got home.”
“But you must know the man from somewhere. Strangers just don’t go around attacking people.”
“He obviously knows Neill. He thinks I know where Neill is, and he’s trying to scare me into telling him.”
She thought for a moment. “It seems like the police should have found something by now, don’t you think?”
I shrugged. “It’ll take them a while to go through security footage and to scour the gardens for evidence.”
“What happens now?”
“I’m going to rest for a bit, then I’ll go back out and look for Ellie again.”
“But aren’t you afraid that man will find you again?”
“A little, but I can’t stop looking for Ellie just because I’m afraid of some man I don’t know.”
“You’re braver than me,” she said.
Seamus came in, bearing a tray of teacups and saucers. “Thought we could all do with some tea,” he said with a wide smile.
I drank the hot, strong brew and settled onto the cushions so my back would be more comfortable. Seamus offered to reheat the pad for my back and I gratefully accepted. Before long, I was asleep again.
But the caffeine in the tea had produced its intended effect and I woke up a short time later, restless and ready to get back to looking for Ellie.
I lumbered up from the couch and made my way to the kitchen, where Sylvie and Seamus were talking quietly. “I’m going out for a little while,” I announced.
Sylvie gave me an incredulous look. “What?! Why? You’re hurt, you’re scared, and it’s getting dark. What can you possibly accomplish?”
“I’m not trying to accomplish anything. I just want to go for a short walk. I’ve been thinking my back might hurt less if I got off the couch and exercised it a bit.”
“Whatever you say,” she said with a sigh. My mum used to say that when I was a teenager. It was bad enough coming from my mother, but it was almost unbearable coming from my little sister.
But when I stood on the sidewalk in front of the flat, I was too scared to go anywhere. I looked up and down the narrow street, seeing only threats: a person could be hiding between those parked cars; someone could be watching me unseen from the park across the street. Dozens of other scenarios crowded my mind, and I couldn’t bring myself to venture any further for a walk. But I didn’t want to go back inside, so instead I went around to the garden at back of the house.
I passed through a wrought-iron arbor at the entrance to the patio, then followed the meandering stone path, looking at the foliage and berries hanging from the shrubs and trees all around me. This was a huge garden for the center of Edinburgh. There were browning clusters of rudbeckia, several acer trees with fiery red leaves drooping gracefully toward the cold ground, and Black Lace berries clinging to branches naked of leaves. Where the berries hung, there would be gorgeous pink flowers in the spring.
There was a large fireplace at the back of the garden, almost hidden by trees and evergreen shrubs. I knew the owner of Bide-A-Wee House kept seasoned firewood in the basement. A cluster of small tables and matching chairs dotted the ground in front of the fireplace, inviting residents to relax. I couldn’t wait to bring Ellie out here and enjoy a crackling fire with her.
My heart constricted as my thoughts turned to Ellie. I was getting nowhere in my search for her. Wherever Neill had taken her, they were hidden well if the thug who accosted me was also unable to find them. I suspected people like the loan sharks looking for Neill had ways that were, at best, illegal and at worst, dangerously effective to find their borrowers. Of course, most of my information about such criminals came from television and movies, but it seemed logical.
I circled the garden several times before going back into the flat. Seamus was directing dinner preparation, and Sylvie was happily following his instructions.
“Look, Greer! Seamus is teaching me how to make stovies. We’ve got corned beef, potatoes, carrots, and onions in this.”
“It smells wonderful,” I complimented her. “Do I have time for a shower before dinner?”
“Sure,” Seamus answered.
The hot water on my back felt so good, I didn’t want to get out. But when I did, I was surprised to find James in the kitchen with Sylvie and Seamus. I smiled at him, embarrassed because my hair was still dripping wet and I was dressed in pajamas.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming over?” I scolded. “I would have at least put on street clothes.”
James grinned. “It’s fun to see you relaxed and sloppy for once. I stopped by to see what was going on, and Sylvie and Seamus invited me for dinner. If it’s all right with you.”
“Of course it’s all right. I won’t bother changing, now that you’ve seen me in pajamas.” I poured four glasses of wine and handed them around to everyone. James looked at me, narrowing his eyes.
“Are you limping?”
“Yes. I was trying not to.”
When he asked what happened, I was forced to retell my story. His look changed from interest to concern to horror as I told him about the events of the day.
“Why didn’t you call me right away?”
“Honestly, all I wanted was to come home and sleep. I was exhausted. I called the police, but then I just wanted it all to go away for a while.”
“I’m so sorry this happened,” James said earnestly. “I would have come to help you. I could have stayed with you this afternoon.”
“You wouldn’t have enjoyed watching me sleep. There was no need for anyone to be here.”
“I most certainly would have enjoyed watching you sleep,” James retorted. Seamus whistled through his teeth and Sylvie started to laugh.
“Och, Greer, this is getting serious!” she said with a grin.
I could feel my face turning a hundred shades of red. I rolled my eyes and changed the subject. “James, are you working tomorrow?”
“I have to go in for a little while in the morning, but I won’t be long. Why? Do you have plans?”
“I was going to go out looking for Ellie again, and I was wondering if you could go with me. If you do, I’ll buy you lunch.”
“How can I refuse an offer like that?” he asked with a grin. “Of course I’ll go with you. I’ll come by and pick you up when I’m done at the museum, and we’ll go together. That way you don’t have to go by yourself to meet me. I think you should always have someone with you when you go out, at least until the man who hurt you is caught.”
Sylvie agreed. “And if James can’t be with you, then you need to ask me or Seamus. You shouldn’t e
ven have left the flat tonight to go for a walk by yourself.”
It was nice to hear Sylvie say that. She didn’t often give the impression that she cared about people other than herself.
We enjoyed the stovies Sylvie had made. The corned beef was delicious, tender, and perfectly spiced. “Ellie loves stovies,” I told them while we ate. “She’s a big fan of Scottish food.” Then, suddenly and to my great embarrassment, I started to cry. James jumped up from the table and came to put his hands on my shoulders. Sylvie put her hand on mine and Seamus looked around the kitchen awkwardly.
“Greer, you’re going to find Ellie. We’re going to find her. I just know it. I feel it,” James said, leaning over to kiss the top of my wet head.
“He’s right, Greer. We’ll find her, of course we will,” Sylvie agreed. “She can’t stay lost forever.”
Forever. The word made me cry harder. James rubbed my shoulders and Sylvie apologized for her word choice. “Och, what I mean is, she’s got to be in Edinburgh. Between the four of us and the police, there’s no way she can stay hidden.”
I wiped my eyes, sniffling, and tried to smile at her. “I know. It just seems so hopeless sometimes.” I glanced up at James, who was looking at me with concern. “I’m okay. Really. I’m okay now.”
He sat down again, and we finished our dinner. Seamus, obviously relieved my crying jag was at an end, changed the subject. He was a great storyteller, and he regaled us with tales of how he got each of his tattoos. Listening to him and the others laughing made me feel a bit better. I finished my wine and began to feel a bit groggy again, so I went to bed shortly after dinner ended. James left after promising to pick me up mid-morning. But I had started to change my mind about the next day’s plans.
CHAPTER 10
I knew when I first met Alistair and Janet that they didn’t like me. Nor did Gerard, Neill’s brother. Beatrice, his sister, didn’t seem to care about me one way or another, but she always followed her parents’ lead. Neill had assured me they would “warm up” to me, but if anything, their warming up turned into more of a white-hot hatred.
Alistair and Janet had apparently always been old-fashioned, even for folks in their small rural village. Modern attitudes toward women were something they couldn’t accept and they didn’t seem to be interested in trying to understand. They were convinced that Neill’s marriage to a university professor would bring nothing but heartache to him. They believed I would be a shrill, demanding, unsatisfied shrew who would cause Neill no end of misery with my nagging. They had fervently hoped Neill would marry a good village girl and told me so on many occasions.
I tried to be a good daughter-in-law, but they weren’t interested in listening to anything I had to say or seeing any of the tender things I did for Neill in their presence. I talked to Neill about it several times, explaining why I didn’t like to visit them or talk to them on the phone or even talk about them when they were an ocean away. But Neill never understood. He never believed his parents treated me poorly when he wasn’t looking.
And before long, he began to believe the things Alistair and Janet told him. He began to think I was too smart for my own good, too talkative, too pushy. He would bemoan my “feminism” and remark that he wished I would stay home and raise our daughter like other good mothers. He would say I wasn’t doing the family any favors by continuing to work after Ellie was born.
We visited Alistair and Janet when Ellie was a year old. We were spending the summer in Scotland, visiting friends and family. Although I had taught summer courses until Ellie was born, I took that summer off to spend with her and Neill. I didn’t want to visit Alistair and Janet, and I didn’t think it was a good atmosphere for our baby. I wanted to stay in Dumfries, and I told Neill I thought it would be a good idea if he visited his parents by himself.
He insisted that Ellie and I go with him, and rather than putting up a fight, I relented and drove up to Glensaig with him at dawn one day during a raging summer storm. Rain lashed the car, and the wind tried its best to blow us off the road. Neill was exhausted and cross when we reached his parents’ home, but he seemed to cheer up when we saw his family. They greeted him with hugs and slaps on the back, fussed over the baby, and had nothing but scowls for me.
I tried not to let it bother me. I even offered to help make the noon meal, but Janet told me she didn’t want my help. I was sure she’d want me to help, if only to mock my kitchen skills. Besides, that’s where the Gramercys believed a woman should be. Instead, I took Ellie to the third floor, where it would be quiet and far away from the family, and sang to her in one of the small bedrooms in the back. A beautiful painting by the Scots landscape and marine impressionist William McTaggart hung on one wall, and I stared at the painting while I cuddled Ellie. The ceilings in the room sloped steeply, and there was only one small window. It was a strange room, with a thick wooden door I assumed was a relic of the ancient past.
I assumed wrong.
I didn’t hear the key turning in that thick soundproof door to lock us in. I didn’t hear a person stealing away down the back stairs, leaving me and Ellie alone in the farthest bedroom where no one would hear my cries for help. It was a little while before I realized we were trapped, prisoners in my husband’s childhood home. I tried banging on the door, but to no avail. I realized with a groan that I had left my mobile phone with my purse in the sitting room downstairs, so I couldn’t call or text Neill to let him know where we were.
Holding Ellie in my arms, trying to stay calm so she wouldn’t sense my distress, I walked to the window, where I could see, three stories down, Neill and his father walking out to one of the barns on the property, their heads protected by umbrellas, their Wellies squelching through the thick mud. I set Ellie down on the floor and tried banging on the window, but with the rain and the distance to the ground, neither of the men heard me. Did Alistair know I was up here? I knew they couldn’t keep us in that room forever, but I was furious. I fumed for hours, getting up every few minutes to pound on the door and yell for Neill. Ellie started to cry eventually, sensing my growing alarm. I was still nursing her, so she wasn’t going to go hungry. But I was hungry and I had to use the bathroom.
I ended up having to use a ceramic chamber pot I found in a closet.
I peered out the tiny window every few minutes, watching and waiting for Neill to come back from the outbuildings with Alistair. When I finally saw them trudging toward the house through the rain, I tried pounding on the window again, but to no avail. Neither even looked up.
When I was sure Neill was in the house again, I tried pounding on the door. Ellie cried when I yelled for my husband, but the room had been soundproofed so thoroughly that my fists made only dull thuds on the door. I knew no one outside the room could hear me.
While Ellie dozed, I got up and crossed the room to examine the painting under the eave more closely. I was stunned that such a beautiful piece of art would be hidden from view. Art was meant to be shared, and it deserved a place of honor in the house.
Suddenly Ellie woke up with a sneeze, which was not surprising, as the room was covered with dust. I sat down on the bed with her as she drowsed, waiting for her to go back to sleep. When she slept again, I stayed there with her, keeping watch over her as the sliver of gray daylight coming from the window moved across the floor, eventually fading to a gloaming light.
I was checking the window again when I saw Neill pull away from the house in our car. I wondered where he was going, what he was thinking. Not long after that, I heard a soft scraping noise again and knew the key was being turned in the lock. Leaving Ellie asleep on the bed, I tiptoed to the door and opened it, but no one was there. I looked in both directions down the long, dimly lit hallway, but there was no trace of anyone. I went back into the room, gathered Ellie in my arms, and stole quietly downstairs and into the sitting room. Beatrice walked in a few minutes later.
“Who locked us up on the third floor?” I demanded angrily, trying to be qui
et because Ellie was still sleeping.
Beatrice gave me a blank look. “I dinnae know what yer talkin’ about,” she said. “Is that where you’ve been? We’ve been wonderin.”
I stared at her. My hands shook and I could feel my face turning red with anger. “Where’s Neill?” I asked through clenched teeth.
She shrugged. “He took off. He was so mad that you left with Ellie and dinnae tell him where you went all day.”
“You know exactly where I was all day.” I stopped, knowing I wouldn’t get anywhere with her. “Where’s Janet?”
“In the kitchen, still working. You should probably offer to help since you’ve been gone for so long.” She turned and left the room. I was sure she knew full well where I had been and I knew I was helpless to prove it to anyone.
I got the same treatment from Janet when I went into the kitchen after Ellie woke up. She offered me nothing but a scowl and questions about why I left “poor Neill” without telling him where I was going and why I couldn’t be a “good and proper wife.”
And it only got worse when Neill came back. He stormed in the front door, letting it slam behind him. Ellie, on the floor in the sitting room, let out a scream and began to cry. I was sitting next to her and I gathered her into my lap. Neill came to the door and stared at me, his left eye twitching and his nostrils flaring.
“Where’ve you been?” he yelled.
“I was locked in the third-floor bedroom all day,” I answered quietly.
Neill snorted. “You don’t really expect me to believe that, Greer. Now, dammit, tell me where you went with Ellie!”
I stood up, my fists clenched by my sides. I left Ellie on the floor at my feet, where she continued to scream. “I am telling you the truth, Neill. One of your delightful family members locked me in the room upstairs. Do you know it’s soundproofed? I tried banging on the door, but no one heard me. Or at least you didn’t. I tried banging on the windows when I saw you and your father go out to the barns, but the rain made it impossible for you to hear me.”