Chapter Seven
The following Monday, Anna started work at the hotel. Originally built as a hunting lodge for the estate, the two-storey granite building had been converted into a hotel by Alistair Grant’s father some ten years previously to prevent it from falling into disrepair.
Set amidst spectacular scenery, it stood on a rise overlooking the village. Bordered by rhododendrons and extensive gardens, it retained much of its Victorian charm. An outpost of comfort and graciousness, the hotel restaurant offered good food, comfortable accommodation, and rumour had it that Queen Victoria had once stayed there.
The fifteen letting bedrooms, each named after a clan, were decorated in its clan colours. The Lindsay room, which doubled as the honeymoon suite, overlooked a small lochan at the side of the hotel and had recently been refurbished in muted shades of green and deep rose.
Although remote, and surrounded by unspoilt countryside, it remained popular with hillwalkers, climbers, and fishermen who came to try their hand at trout and salmon fishing in the nearby rivers and lochs. An impressive array of stag’s heads and stuffed fish hung on the walls of the bar and entrance hall. A certificate displayed in reception proudly announced the hotel had been designated the ‘Best Sporting Hotel in Scotland’ for three years running.
Last winter, much to the surprise of Ewan, the manager, it had been hired by a major TV production company to double for ‘the local hostelry’ in a series of programmes about the life of a fictitious Scottish laird.
Employed as a chambermaid and girl Friday, Anna stripped and made beds, and when necessary, helped out in the kitchen.
“I hear there’s a yacht moored in the loch,” Morag said, as they made up the twin beds in room seven.
“How on earth do you know that?” replied Anna.
“Well, lass, you know how the village grapevine works. One of the shepherds saw it sail into the loch. He told his wife, who mentioned it to Ewan, who then told me. I understand it’s quite large and expensive looking, has two masts for the sails and there’s an American flag flying off the stern on a wee pole. Oh, and it’s anchored opposite Tigh na Cladach.”
Anna pulled the pillowcase on a bolster, plumped it up, and placed it on the bed, avoiding her inquisitor’s gaze.
“That’s right, although the sight of a boat in the loch is not that unusual, even this early in the tourist season.”
“And would I also be right in saying that it belongs to the gentleman you drove down to the hotel the other day?”
Anna stared at her friend. “Who told you about that?”
“Katrina saw a Land Rover, your Land Rover, in the car park. She just happened to be in the bar when a man came in asking to change a £50 note.”
“Just because there was a Land Rover in the car park, doesn’t mean to say it was mine.”
“No, it doesn’t. But there were two Border collies inside, and it was driven by a woman with ginger hair—”
“It’s not ginger!” Anna declared, mildly irritated.
“You’re the only woman in the glen with hair that colour. And as your house is the only one which stands on the shore of loch, he couldn’t have got a lift from anyone else.”
“He could have walked as far as the car park and hitched a lift with one of the hillwalkers.”
“He could have, but he didn’t. What’s he like, this American friend of yours? And why didn’t you tell me about him the other evening?” Morag smiled benignly, as if dealing with a temperamental child.
“I would hardly call him a friend. I did him a favour, that’s all. He has a problem with the pump for the autopilot and needs a part for it. Besides, I couldn’t very well let him walk the twelve miles to the phone, now could I?”
“No, lass, you could not. You’ve been brought up to treat people better than that. So how long will he be staying?”
“I don’t know. It depends when the part arrives. That might not be until sometime next week, or possibly the week after. He said it’s unsafe for him to return to the States until he’s made the repair, and even then he might have to take the yacht into the boatyard in Fort William to be checked over.”
“I see. Where exactly in America did you say he comes from?”
Anna tucked the top sheet under the mattress. “I didn’t. And since when are you an expert on American geography?”
“I’m not. It’s just a point of curiosity, that’s all.”
“My goodness Morag, you would make an excellent police interrogator. I only gave him a lift to the hotel. He said Massachusetts, but for all I know that’s next door to Seattle or Coney Island. If you’re that curious, why don’t you swim out to his yacht and ask him yourself?”
Morag nodded slowly. “I could, but I doubt my Lachlan would sanction the activity. So tell me, what does your errant American look like? Is he young, or old? Is he alone, or does he have a companion, a woman friend perhaps?”
“He was rude, and I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Then your eyesight must be failing.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my eyes.”
“Are you sure you don’t need to borrow my glasses? Because I can’t believe you could spend an hour in a man’s company and not remember what he looked like.”
Anna had seen that look before and knew its meaning well. “All right. He’s tall, dark-haired, greying at the temples, tanned, and if you like mature men, good-looking. His voice is deep, sensual, and positively oozes sex appeal. I’d say he’s about forty, or maybe even a little older. You already know he’s an American.”
“That’s what Katrina said.”
“Then why bother asking me if you already have all the answers? Really, Morag, you know I hate gossiping as much as I hate being the subject of curiosity and chitchat.”
“Aye, lass, I do, and in that respect, I should be apologizing. You can’t blame an old married woman like me for being curious. I only have your best interest at heart now that your grandmother has gone. If he’s as good-looking as you say, I’m surprised he hasn’t asked a pretty girl like you out.”
Anna blushed. “What makes you think he hasn’t already done so?”
“Well if he had, you’d have told me, now wouldn’t you? Anyhow, you don’t want to be jumping into another relationship so soon after Mark. It will only end in tears.”
“Credit me with some sense. Luke’s only here for a few days. I’m not the type to leap into bed with the first man who comes along. Besides, he could be married.”
“I’m sure he’s not. If he were, he wouldn’t be sailing across the Atlantic searching for a past he doesn’t know he has. You need to be watchful of that man.”
Anna rolled her eyes. “That’s ridiculous, Morag! He’s just a sailor who has a problem with his yacht. It was pure chance that made him sail into Loch Hourn.”
Morag’s eyes grew dark and unfathomable. “That’s what you think, lass. I’m telling you different. You should be careful. There is danger in the glen. I see it around you.”
Anna shivered. “This isn’t the time or the place for one of your premonitions, Morag. What’s more, you know I don’t believe in the ‘Second Sight.’ There’s no scientific proof. At best, it’s a matter of coincidence, and at worst it’s a load of rubbish.”
Morag blinked and focused her gaze on Anna’s face. “Scottish history tells it differently, as you well know, but I’ll not argue with you. You are entitled to your opinion, as I am. You may not believe what I say at the moment, lass, but you will. Something evil is going on. I can feel it.”
“Oh, please!” Anna snapped. “Your imagination is running away with you. You’ve watched too many late night horror films on television. They always give you nightmares when you’re alone. Speaking of you being alone, when does Lachlan get back?”
Morag wouldn’t be sidetracked. “Have it your own way, lass. You’ve known me long enough to know that the Sight has never let me down. I can see that my warning isn’t what you want to hear just now, so I’l
l say no more. Shall we get on? We’ve still got another three bedrooms to tidy and lunch to prepare.”
Anna bit down on her temper. “Yes, let’s. In fact, why don’t you go and start lunch? I’ll finish off up here. When I’m through, I’ll come to the kitchen and give you a hand.”
“Of course, dear,” Morag smiled. She turned, and started down the stairs, but paused halfway down.
Anna leaned over the banister, wondering what the problem was. A family with two young children and a baby were checking in at reception. She saw the look of indescribable sadness on Morag’s face. She had shared Morag’s delight at being told she was pregnant, but couldn’t begin to understand the pain and disappointment she and Lachlan must have experienced when Morag miscarried. She wanted to reach out and give her friend a hug, and was about to tell her that there was plenty of time for her to have a family, when Morag broke the silence.
“And don’t forget to give the tiles in bathroom in room four a good wipe down. They look as if they’re covered in snow. I swear the woman in there showers in talcum powder instead of water!” she called, as she continued down the stairs.
The more Anna thought about Morag’s warning, the more concerned she became. Since arriving at the croft, she’d had more than her fair share of disturbed nights, but had put them down to the unaccustomed silence, rather than Edinburgh’s traffic noise. This talk of her being in danger, that was just nonsense. Morag was just being her overdramatic self. Even so, Morag had a point. The croft was isolated, but the dogs would attack anyone who threatened her.
No matter how much the warning echoed in her ears, nothing could persuade her that Luke was anything other than what he appeared, a yachtsman whose boat was in need of urgent repair. As soon as the necessary part arrived he would be on his way back to America.
Using her staff key, she opened the door to room thirteen and pushed the service trolley inside. Only one of the two single beds had been slept in. As she moved the bed away from the wall, the toes of her right foot hit something hard. Why guests couldn’t use the stand provided for suitcases, she would never know. She bent down and reached under the bed, and dragged the case out of the way.
Only it wasn’t a suitcase, but the gun case she’d seen the man carrying the day she had visited Morag. She starred at it for a moment, then something made her undo the catch and flip open the top. A bolt-action rifle with a telescopic sight lay inside. She shivered. Did the guest have no sense? He should have asked Ewan to lock it in the safe rather than leave it in his room. She closed the case and put it back under the bed. She’d mention it to Ewan and suggest he speak with the guest before she left the hotel.
Three quarters of an hour later she re-joined Morag in the kitchen.
“Ewan tells me the young Laird has returned from London,” Morag said.
Anna raised an eyebrow. “That’s right. Alistair called at the croft the other day. I thought you said he’d shown no interest in the estate.”
“Until now he hasn’t, but that might be about to change. He’s holding a meeting on Friday to inform the tenants of his grand plans.”
“Actually, he mentioned something about having some business problems to sort out. I wonder what they are.”
Morag looked thoughtful. “I’m not surprised he has problems. If he keeps putting up the rent, his tenants will move away to less expensive housing. Then what will he do? And more importantly, what will happen to the families in the village?”
“He could always sell or lease the estate to some oil-rich Arab or pop star.”
“Now who’s being silly? Why would a pop star want to live up here when he or she could have the bright lights of London? Besides, the estate is Alistair’s heritage; he would never sell it.”
“I realize that, Morag. But if what I read in the papers is true, half the estates in Scotland are now owned by overseas investors, musicians, or film stars.”
“Ewan says there’s to be a Ceilidh. In fact, he’s already been asked to provide the refreshments.”
“Really? Alistair’s hosting a dance? That doesn’t surprise me. He was always the one for a party. When is this great event to take place?”
“Three weeks on Saturday. You will come, won’t you?”
“I’m not a tenant, I won’t be invited.”
“But you are part of the community. Besides, it will be good for you to get out and enjoy yourself.”
“I don’t know, Morag. I’m not thrilled by the idea. Lachlan will be home by then, and everyone else will have a partner. Perhaps if Mark and I…”
“Well, think on it, lass. You never know, something might happen between now and then to change your mind.”
The antique mahogany grandfather clock in the dining room struck two as Anna finished work. She stopped at the reception desk to see if any mail had arrived for her. For a reason she couldn’t identify, she half-hoped for a letter from Mark, but there was nothing from him. She felt stupid for thinking about him. He was happy in Edinburgh with his blonde bombshell. What need had he of her?
For the first time since arriving at the croft, she felt isolated and lonely. She’d lost her boyfriend and given up her job in the space of a day, and was living in a tumbledown cottage in the middle of nowhere. Her parents would have advised her to stay in Edinburgh, swallow her pride, and ask for her job back, even if it meant working as an assistant to Mark’s new blonde. In her younger days, she would have done as they suggested. The new Anna said no, even though it pained her to the core.
Twenty minutes later, she manoeuvred the old Land Rover along the potholed track towards the croft. An unexpected warmth surged through her at the sight of Luke leaning against her door.
He walked over and opened the driver’s door. “Hi there,” he said, his face splitting into a wide grin.
When his gaze swept over her face and lingered on her lips, Anna felt her pulse quicken. A hot blush rushed to her cheeks. Luke intrigued her. He radiated a vitality that drew her like a moth to a flame. No matter how hard she tried not to, she found herself responding with a smile of her own.
“Don’t tell me,” she said, climbing out from behind the wheel. “You want a lift to the phone again.”
“Actually, I came to borrow the map.”
Anna stared at him.
Luke tilted his head. “If this is a bad time or something, I’ll get by. Never mind.”
“Come in and I’ll get it for you.” She pushed her key in the door and threw it open. “Just watch the dogs…” but before she could finish the sentence, the two collies rushed past nearly knocking Luke off his feet. Anna smiled apologetically. “Sorry, but they’ve been shut in since early morning and get—”
“Don’t worry, I’m fine,” he interrupted, rubbing his left knee where it came into contact with the wall. He limped after her into the small kitchen.
She took the map out of the dresser drawer. “How far are you planning on walking?”
“I thought I’d climb the hill behind the cottage, if it’s not private property, of course.”
“It is, but don’t worry. There’s no law of trespass in Scotland. Provided you don’t cause any damage, you can roam pretty much where you want. The only exception is in the deer stalking season when you have to be careful, but that doesn’t start until July. Most of the land around here belongs to the estate. It’s open to hillwalkers, except for a few weeks during the shooting season.” She glanced at his feet. “Those trainers aren’t suitable—you’ll break your ankle if you fall.”
“I don’t plan to fall. Besides, I don’t have anything else.”
“I think Mar—a friend left a pair of boots here last time he stayed.” She fished inside the cupboard under the stairs. “What size do you take?”
“Ten, but it doesn’t matter. I’ll walk along the shoreline instead.”
“It’s no bother, besides I was going to throw them away. Ah! Here they are. Mm, size eleven. They should be just right with a pair of thick socks. I’ll get you some
and you can try them on.”
Luke pulled off his trainers. “This friend…won’t he be pissed off when he finds out you gave away his boots?”
“I doubt he even remembers buying them, or leaving them here. Besides, hillwalking was definitely not his forte. I can assure you he has other things on his mind, and he’s too busy pursuing them to think about driving all this way to collect a pair of walking boots.”
“I can’t just take another man’s boots. I—”
“Trust me, Mark won’t miss them. Do you want to go hillwalking or not?”
“Yes.”
“Then quit arguing and try the damned things on. Otherwise it’ll be midnight before you get out the door.”
Luke pulled on the socks and boots, and took a few tentative steps around the kitchen.
“They’re actually pretty comfortable. Good ankle supports.”
“Right then, you’re all set.” She pushed the jug of marigolds to one side, spread the map on the table and pointed to a dot. “Here’s the croft. You follow this track for about a mile through the trees until it forks. Take the left-hand fork past the ruins and then follow the stalkers’ path steadily up toward the top of Buidhe Bheinn. It’s fairly easy going, just one or two steep sections that you need to take care over. You can get to the top and back in about four hours, so I wouldn’t recommend going that far this late in the day.”
Luke squinted at the map. “What are all these squiggly brown lines?”
“They’re contour lines. The closer together they are, the steeper the land. These blue lines represent streams or waterfalls.” One glance at his face told her she’d lost her audience. “You have seen an Ordnance Survey Map before, haven’t you?”
“No, but I’m sure I’ll figure it out.”
“I’m sorry. I can’t let you go.” She folded the map.
“Anna, I’m not stupid.” He placed a restraining hand on her arm. “Once I understand what all the symbols mean, it’ll be fine.”
The House on the Shore Page 6