The House on the Shore

by Victoria Howard

  Anna shivered. “Sandy is a sensible man, Morag. He wouldn’t do anything stupid, nor would he harm his dogs. They mean the world to him. But I agree with you, this is all very strange.”

  “That’s only half of it. Just before Christmas the Laird increased the tenants’ rents, and for the old folks like Mrs. McPherson, with only her pension, it’s a struggle. Three families have left the village in the last six weeks, and I daresay others will follow before much longer. The only work for the men is on the estate or in the forestry, and neither pays particularly well, but you know that. There’s hardly a family in the area that doesn’t rely on the big house for housing or employment, and if the estate is sold it will signal the end of the community.”

  “Are things really that bad, Morag?”

  “Aye, lass, they are. It’s one of the reasons Lachlan is determined to buy a farm.”

  Anna rubbed her chin. There was no doubt Morag was telling the truth. More and more small communities such as theirs were dying out. Once the young folk left to go to school and university, very few ever returned. Most preferred to take well-paid city jobs, rather than face unemployment in isolated villages. While city folk clamoured for the country life, few could take the isolation or lack of modern day conveniences places such as Kinloch Hourn afforded.

  It was close to midnight when Anna left Morag’s cottage. Driving back to the croft she found it hard to put their conversation out of her mind. The Monymusk Arms Hotel, while owned by the estate, was let on a long-term lease. Ewan Abercrombie, the manager, relied heavily on the summer trade for the winter months brought few visitors, just the odd climber looking for the thrill of an ice climb. The road from Fort William was often blocked by snow for days on end, making driving in and out of the glen impossible. Morag’s prediction that the community would die could easily become a reality. When that happened, Anna realized, she would no longer be able to stay at the croft, despite all the happy memories it held.

  She pulled on the brake and climbed out into the brilliance of a starry night. Out on the loch, through the faint mist that rose off the still, dark water, she could see Luke’s yacht bobbing up and down on its mooring. In the tall pines, an owl hooted. A lump rose in her throat. God forbid she would ever have to part with the croft in its spectacular wilderness. Abruptly, she turned, walked up the path to the door, and inserted the heavy key into the lock.

  Chapter Four

  Although the promised change in the weather hadn’t materialized by the time Anna finished breakfast, she decided to tackle lighting the old iron stove.

  The Aga, a huge cream coloured range that stood in the inglenook fireplace, had been in the croft for as long as she could remember. Her grandparents had relied on it for hot water, heating and cooking until the electricity board brought power to this part of the glen.

  She tried to light it, but smoke filled the kitchen. She sighed; she knew that meant a trip to the roof. She had watched her grandfather clean the chimney many years ago. She could do it. After all, she owned the croft now.

  Dressed in her oldest clothes and a pair of overalls she found in a chest in the spare room, she piled her hair into a careless knot and surveyed her project. She dragged a weathered wooden ladder from the cowshed and rested it against the gable end of the croft. Suddenly, the top of the chimney looked awfully high. She swallowed nervously. While accustomed to decorating her apartment, climbing up a twenty foot ladder and peering down a chimney was a different thing altogether.

  She pulled a pair of gloves from her pocket and placed a foot on the first rung of the ladder. It creaked noisily and sagged under her weight, but didn’t give way, so she put her foot on to the next rung. It too rebelled, but didn’t break. She took her time, climbed rung by rung, and eventually made it halfway up the ladder.

  “Do you think it’s smart to be doing that?”

  She jerked. The ladder swayed precariously. She gasped in panic. Fearing she was about to fall, she closed her eyes, tightened her grip, and clung on with all her might. She leaned against the ladder for support, and swivelled her head to look at the man below.

  Luke.

  “I might have known it was you. What do you think you’re doing scaring people half to death?”

  “People? I was aiming for ‘person.’ And only half to death? I must be losing my touch,” Luke chuckled. “I saw you from the yacht and thought you might need some help.”

  “That’s kind of you, but unless you have a set of sweep’s brushes stashed away on that boat of yours, there’s nothing you can do.”

  “Why don’t you come down and let me do whatever you were doing?”

  Anna shook her head vigorously. “Thanks, but I can manage.”

  “Then at least let me steady the ladder for you. I wouldn’t want you to fall, unless that’s your usual way of getting down. Forgive me, I’m still unclear on the local customs, you see.”

  “Ha, ha, ha. You’re really funny today, aren’t you? All right, laughing boy, hold away.” She removed the torch from her back pocket and peered down the chimney. An old bird’s nest had fallen inside. She reached down and pulled it out. Apart from that, the chimney appeared to be relatively free of soot. She started to climb back down. One of the rungs gave way, and the next thing she knew, she was flying backward through the air.

  “Arrrrrrrgh!”

  Anna screwed up her eyes expecting to land on hard Scottish granite, but instead Luke’s strong arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her roughly, almost violently, to safety. Without thinking, she buried her face against the corded muscles of his neck and clung to him with trembling limbs. If Luke hadn’t caught her she would have most likely broken her neck. Slowly the tremors subsided, and she became acutely aware of the warmth of his body. His nearness was overwhelming and filled her with a strange inner excitement. She tried to rationalize her feelings by putting them down to the shock of her fall, but failed. There was no doubt that what she’d felt was the first flush of sexual desire.

  Anna coloured fiercely and backed out of his grasp. “Er…I’m sorry about that. I guess the rungs weren’t as strong as I thought.”

  “That old twig? I can’t imagine how you ever thought it would hold you up. You’re lucky I was here. Are you okay? No bones broken?”

  “I’m fine. The only thing that’s dented is my pride. Thanks for catching me.”

  His tawny brown eyes meet her green ones. “Trust me, the pleasure is all mine.”

  Keenly aware of his scrutiny, Anna willed herself to look away.

  Luke bent down and examined the ladder. Although old, it was in reasonably good condition. He picked up the remains of the rung and ran his thumb over the wood. The break should have been jagged and splintered where the wood had given way. Instead, part of it was smooth, as if someone had taken a hacksaw and sawn part way through the rung.

  “You’ve been lucky. You could have been seriously hurt. It’s about time this old ladder was retired and turned into firewood.”

  Anna wrapped her arms around her body, and shivered at the image his words created.

  He rested his hand on her shoulder. “Are you sure you’re all right? You look a little pale to me. Want me to fetch you a glass of water?”

  “Please stop fussing. I’m not about to faint.”

  “I’m glad to hear it. Are you planning any more gymnastics today?”

  She grinned mischievously. “Later, I thought I might try a triple Lutz on the lawn. Seriously, I’ve had enough aerial acrobatics to last me awhile. I appreciate your thoughtfulness in offering to help.”

  “In that case, I’ll be on my way.” He turned and walked back to his dinghy.

  Anna watched Luke stride across the grass towards the beach. Each time she saw him the pull on her senses was stronger. If she were honest, she’d enjoyed the feel of his arms around her. Yet, such an attraction was perilous and would only end in more heartache coming as it did so soon after the end of her affair with Mark.

  She picked
up the torch and returned to the kitchen. Once inside, she undid the inspection plate on the flue where it entered the chimney and shone her torch around. Satisfied that everything looked all right, she re-filled the firebox with an old newspaper and some kindling she’d found in the cowshed. Rather than set it alight, she decided to wait until she had done her shopping.

  It was mid-morning when she returned to the croft. She pushed open the door with the toe of her boot, and carried four plastic bags of groceries into the kitchen, dropping them on the table with a sigh of relief. She rubbed the circulation back into her bloodless fingers, thankful that she wouldn’t have to shop again for a few days.

  Anna stared at the Aga and wondered if her meagre savings would stand the strain of using the immersion heater for another day. Common sense got the better of her. Squatting, she opened the firebox. She gasped, and rocked back on her heels. Two shiny brass bullets lay on top of the firewood. If she hadn’t bothered to check the kindling before adding the firelighter and striking the match, they could have exploded, causing God knows what sort of damage.

  Someone had left them for her.

  Her breath caught in her throat. The colour drained from her face, and her fingers clenched until her nails dug into her palm. Someone had been in her cottage. In all her thirty-two years on the planet, she’d never felt so scared.

  Her first inclination was to bolt out the door, jump into the Land Rover, and drive screaming to the nearest police station, some fifty miles away. Chances are they would laugh, and then remind her that she lived on the edge of one of largest sporting estates in Scotland. Finding cartridges was not that unusual. In all probability, a passing sportsman, without a thought to his actions, had carelessly tossed them into the cowshed.

  Carefully she removed them, placing them on the table behind her. She glanced round the small kitchen; everything seemed to be in its proper place. She told herself she was being foolish for feeling scared. She stood still, her head slightly to one side, listening for the slightest sound, but there was only silence.

  Her movements stiff and awkward, she rested her hand on the banister and stepped onto the bottom tread of the staircase. It creaked under her weight, the sound reverberating through the small cottage. Her heart jumped in her chest, her stomach clenched. Every nerve in her body felt as if it had been electrified.

  Anna swallowed the scream bubbling in her throat. One by one she climbed the stairs. The door to her bedroom was slightly ajar. Had she left it that way? She couldn’t remember. She threw it open with all her strength. It crashed against the wall. The room was empty, yet she knew someone had been there.

  She crossed the landing to the second bedroom. The door was shut just she had left it. Her hand trembled as it reached for the doorknob. It turned easily. She pushed open the door and stepped inside. It too was empty.

  Back in the kitchen she sat in the wooden rocker next to the Aga, and took one, then another deep breath and tried to relax. She plucked a bullet off the table and examined it. There was an outline of an animal etched into the brass. A lion, or a tiger, perhaps? Either way, it meant nothing to her. As far as she was concerned, it was just as deadly as every other bullet she’d seen.

  Anna rolled the bullets in her hand then dropped them into the dresser drawer out of harm’s way. It was silly to worry. If she had paid more attention when laying the fire, she probably would have noticed them lying amongst the bundles of old papers and firewood.

  An hour passed before she finally pulled herself together sufficiently to drag the old table and chair she’d found in the cowshed into the shade of a tall Scots pine. Armed with her laptop and notebook, she sat down with the intention of writing. She stared at the small screen, but lingering fear blocked her inspiration.

  A flash of movement on the small pebble and sand beach in front of the croft caught her attention. It was the otter she’d heard calling earlier that morning, out with her young cubs on a hunting trip in the still of a Highland summer day. Anna watched them frolic in the rock pools and kelp beds, safe from human interference. When they disappeared into the gentle lapping waves she rested her chin in her hands and re-read her notes. Slowly, a scene formed in her mind.

  The stranger came again last night. He wore the kilt and the plaid, but I knew from the cut of the cloth that he was no ordinary Highlander. In the dim light cast by the fire, I judged him to be tall, certainly taller than my father. As for his colouring I could not tell, but thought his hair to be dark as a raven’s wing. He appeared to be of gentle birth, for he spoke no Gaelic. His manner and bearing suggested he was an educated man.

  I had been sent to bed early, but could not sleep. Instead, I lay huddled under my thin blanket in the corner of the box bed I shared with my younger brothers and sisters, and listened to the hushed voice of the stranger as he told my mother and father the dreadful news. Of course we’d heard the rumours, there was hardly a glen in the Highlands that had not, of tenants being forced to leave their homes for poorer land on the coast, the roofs of their houses torn down and burnt to prevent their return. We’d heard tales of women and children being left to starve, of the elderly dying in their beds. We never thought it would happen to us.

  Suddenly, the voices stopped. The stranger raised his head and looked directly at me. A cold shiver gripped me. I sensed something was wrong and I knew that our lives were about to change forever. Like my grandmother and her grandmother before her, I had been blessed with the gift of the Sight, the ability to see into the future, but tonight all I could feel was a sense of foreboding, so strong that it was almost palpable.

  Anna had just finished typing the last word when she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle. Shading her eyes against the sun, she saw a Range Rover drive through the narrow gate to the croft.

  Irritated at being disturbed, she saved her work. She closed her laptop and turned to look at the vehicle. A tall, sandy-haired man climbed out. He wore a red and green tartan kilt and a plain lovat green tweed waistcoat and jacket. There was something about his bearing that was vaguely familiar. As he drew closer it suddenly dawned on her who he was.

  “Alistair. Alistair Grant!” she said, and rushed forward to greet him. “Of all the people, I certainly didn’t expect to you to come and visit me. I suppose I should call you Laird now.”

  He laughed and kissed her cheek. Apart from a few laughter lines around his eyes and his sun-streaked hair, he’d changed little over the intervening years, whereas she had. Her hair was longer now for one thing, and she was slimmer too, yet Alistair had recognized her at once.

  “No need to be formal, Anna, my dear. How lovely to see you again, and looking radiant too. I heard you where back in the glen and felt I had to come and say hello.”

  “It’s been a while.”

  “Yes it has,” he said, resting his hip on the table. “It must be all of what? Ten, no, twelve years since we last saw each other?”

  “Your sister’s wedding, if I recall. How is she, by the way?”

  “Sophie is living in matrimonial bliss in Hong Kong. She has two children now, with a third on the way. I was sorry to hear about your grandmother. I know the old lady was very dear to you.”

  Anna swallowed the lump that had suddenly formed in her throat. “She was, and I miss her dreadfully. Why don’t you come up to the house? I was about to make some coffee or there’s iced tea, if you prefer.”

  “Iced tea would be nice.”

  “Come on then.” She linked her arm with his. “This must be a difficult time for you too, with your father’s illness. I hear you’ve been living in the South of France. It must be quite a culture shock coming back here after so many years away. Are you home for good, or is this a flying visit?”

  “I have a few business matters which require my urgent attention, so I’ll be here for the foreseeable future. What about you?”

  “I’m planning on staying for the summer at least.”

  “That’s marvellous. We can renew our acquaintance
. We used to be good friends when we were younger.”

  “That was a long time ago, Alistair. If I remember correctly, you dumped me in favour of Lord so-and-so’s spotty daughter. What was her name?”

  Alistair pulled out a chair from under the kitchen table and sat down. “Fiona. Fiona Douglas. Her father owns an estate in Aberdeenshire.”

  “That’s right. When I left at the end of that summer you were about to be led to the altar. What happened?”

  “I saw sense, and realized I was in love with you,” he replied, with an infectious grin.

  For a long moment, Anna stared at him, and then laughed out loud. “You always did have a good sense of humour, Alistair.”

  “You wound me, my lady,” he said, placing his hand on his heart.

  “Oh, please…we were teenagers. We didn’t know how to make a commitment for the next twenty-four hours, let alone a lifetime.” Anna handed him a glass.

  “My, my, you have become cynical in your old age. We won’t fall out over the past. You must have realized that it was my father who interfered.”

  “Really? I didn’t know that.”

  “He had this idea about merging the Douglas estate with ours, so he insisted I end our relationship.”

  “What relationship?” Anna asked, taking a sip from her glass. “We hung round together. We were nothing more than friends, and you know it. I wouldn’t even let you kiss me. I was seventeen years old and about to go up to university. I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, and what’s more, you were halfway through your studies at Cambridge. It would have been a disaster for both of us.”

  “Perhaps the timing wasn’t quite right. We’re both more mature now, and you’re no longer the gangly teenager you once were. You’re a beautiful woman, and if rumour is to be believed, you’re still unattached.”

  Anna’s green eyes sparkled with amusement. “Are you trying to chat me up, by any chance?”

  “I never did like that turn of phrase, far too common. Just let’s say that I’d like to renew our acquaintance. Have dinner with me, please? I know this delightful restaurant in Glasgow. It’s chic and intimate, and the food is wonderful. We could take in a show and make a night of it.”