Call of Glengarron

by Nancy Buckingham

  “Ssh. No, the jeep would make too much noise and give away our position.” Fortunately that seemed to satisfy him.

  Feeling carefully, I worked my way around to the driver’s door and opened it. For a second, as I fumbled around, I was afraid the flashlight wasn’t there. Then my fingers touched the cold metal case, still wedged tight by the duster.

  Pointing the torch downward, I flicked the switch quickly, on and off. It was such a relief to see the powerful beam stab out that I began to imagine my troubles were over.

  But they were only just beginning.

  Once through the great arched gateway we started walking as briskly as Jamie’s short legs could manage.

  Our escape route was clear now. If only our disappearance were not discovered too soon, we would get safely away.

  We were half across the causeway before I heard it—a car, approaching fast. And then I saw the headlights in the darkness, like twin searchlights swinging wildly from side to side.

  It was a pretty safe bet that the car was heading for the castle. We were stuck there on the causeway—just a narrow roadway with a low wall on either side. And over the wall was the black water of the lake.

  If we headed back the way we had come, would we find a hiding place quickly enough? We’d have to go right into the courtyard, and when the car arrived in just a few seconds there would be lights and people.

  The lesser risk, I decided hastily, was to go on. If we hurried we might reach the farther bank in time. Then, with luck, we’d be able to crouch down until the car had gone past.

  We still had ten yards to go, and the car was coming at a frightening speed.

  “Let’s run, Jamie,” I said brightly, “It’ll be fun.” Grabbing his hand, I pulled him along and and he was too surprised to do anything else but run with me.

  I thought we’d never make it, but we just reached the far end in time, and I ducked down with Jamie behind a small tree. A moment later the car zoomed past us - a cream colored sports car, a convertible open to the sky.

  Fiona returning home.

  Our timing had been too tight for my peace of mind. Just another few seconds and we’d have been caught in those pitiless headlights. Fiona would have stopped, and everything would have been discovered.

  Too much had depended on sheer chance so far.

  With a little giggle Jamie said, “Auntie Fiona didn’t see us. Isn’t it fun?”

  I hoped his gay mood would last for a bit longer. The little boy had a very big ordeal ahead of him.

  Standing up, we started off again. Jamie was still trotting along happily by my side when we turned off the road up the forest track.

  “This is a good game, Lucy.”

  “Yes, isn’t it?”

  He was a sturdy little boy, and plucky too. He kept going for longer than I’d dared hope before beginning to wilt.

  “Is it very much further, Lucy?”

  “We’re nearly there,” I promised cheerfully. Privately I was wondering how far I’d be able to carry Jamie when he really gave up.

  The moon was obscured now by racing clouds. Below us, a forbidding black streak across a gray landscape, lay Loch Ghorm. At its far end Ben Liath Mohr loomed darkly massive. In all this vast chilling expanse, the lights of Glengarron Castle shone out like a welcoming haven. But it was a mockingly deceptive promise.

  We could afford to stop for just a minute, I thought, and it was important to keep Jamie’s interest alive.

  “Look, do you see those tall windows? That’s the great hall. And the smaller one further along is the sitting room we use.”

  While we stood watching, an upstairs light came on. And then another, and then yet another.

  Upstairs. The wing that faced directly across the loch.

  I calculated hastily, with growing panic. Yes, that first light had been my bedroom—the next one, Jamie’s. And then had followed the rooms on either side.

  Our absence had been discovered.

  Chapter 14

  I felt like giving up.

  How could I fight such cruel misfortune? I had been counting on a start of several hours before our flight became known.

  Maybe it was just Isabel Lennox going into my room to inquire how I was. Or it might have been Craig ...

  It hardly mattered now.

  As Jamie and I stood gazing down at Glengarron, lights sprang on all over the place. Every room was being searched. In just a matter of minutes they would be certain that Jamie and I had gone.

  And Craig would know why we had gone. He wouldn’t delay in coming after us.

  The hunt was on.

  What possible chance had we of reaching safety? I doubted now if we would even get to the end of the forest track and aboard the bus before Craig caught up with us.

  He would enlist the help of the others, of course—the Lennoxes, and even the servants. He’d spin some sort of yarn about me trying to steal his son. And he’d be readily believed, too. They all knew how fond I was of Jamie.

  And when we were caught and taken back to the castle, what then? Craig would have the chance to stage another “accident.” And even if the Lennoxes began to suspect something, would they dare to speak up?

  Fiona wanted to marry Craig. If things looked dangerous for him, he had only to announce their engagement, and her parents’ lips would be sealed forever.

  Everything seemed to be in Craig’s favor. There was little hope that anyone would credit my wild stories.

  The Laird of Glengarron had tried to kill me twice at least. But what did my evidence against Craig amount to? A tiny piece of plastic insulation that I’d found in the bath. A cracking twig just before those logs began to roll.

  And a motive. I knew Craig had a powerful motive for wanting to dispose of me. I knew that Craig had killed Margo.

  But how could I hope to prove it? There were just those two telltale date stamps. If Craig destroyed his passport, then nothing would ever establish the fact that he had been in London on the night Margo had died.

  There was one person who could back up my story --- Lambert Nairn. He’d been in Margo’s flat that night, and had seen Craig arrive.

  My sudden flood of hope was instantly dammed. Lambert Nairn would never say a word to support me because his own reputation was at stake. He would deny everything.

  Nobody here would be on my side.

  I had to get away. Somehow I had to get right away from Glengarron. It was my only hope. While there was even a million to one chance of escape, I had to take it.

  Close to despair, I took Jamie’s hand in mine and we started up the track once more. The night seemed darker now and colder. Hurrying along was dangerous, I knew, but using the flashlight could be more dangerous still. It might give us away.

  Very soon Jamie began to whimper. “I want to go home now, Lucy.”

  “In a little while, darling. Not quite yet”

  With each dragging step his protests grew louder. “Please, Lucy, I’m tired. Why can’t we go home?”

  I remembered the slab of chocolate in my pocket. It was rather squashy by now, but it might help. Tearing the wrapper as best I could with one hand, I broke off a piece and popped it into his mouth. But after only a minute his wailing began again.

  It was really too early for me to start carrying Jamie, but because I could think of no other way, I hoisted him up, piggyback style. His weight made the going terribly difficult on this rough track where each step had to be taken with care. I simply had to have a bit of light to help me. Carefully I wound my handkerchief over the end of the flashlight, letting a mere glimmer through, just enough to show the ground at my feet.

  I struggled on with Jamie until I felt as if my back was breaking. On a level road I could have managed better, but here every slight stumble threatened to drag us down.

  It might have been half a mile I battled on, or it might have been no more than a quarter. But then there was nothing for it—I had to stop and rest.

  Jamie began to whimper again
the moment his feet touched the ground.

  “I don’t want to walk any more, Lucy.” He sounded very tearful now, burying his face in my coat as he clung to me, his little arms tight around my legs. “I ... I don’t like this game....”

  I felt like sitting down on the muddy path and crying with him. But if Jamie saw that I too was upset, his own misery would be increased ten times over. Firmly, I admonished myself that for his sake I must not give way.

  Another piece of chocolate kept him quiet long enough for me to consider the situation again. It couldn’t be so very far now to the road. We had passed the spot where the logs had collapsed on me—they still lay haphazardly, just as Craig and Lambert Nairn had flung them aside. Even though it wasn’t far we had to go, it was still much further than I could possibly manage to carry Jamie. Somehow I had to cajole him into making another effort.

  Speaking in a bright cheerful voice I explained carefully, “It would be such a long way to walk back, Jamie. But if we push on a bit, there’s another road. We’ll catch a bus.”

  Like so many modern sophisticated children, Jamie rarely traveled by bus and it was something of a treat for him. Margo had used her slinky sports car for everything—even the couple of hundred yards to his nursery school.

  “Oh yes, I’d like to go on a bus, Lucy,” he said, bucking up at once.

  “Will you walk just a little way, darling? And then I’ll carry you for the last bit. How’s that?”

  “All right,” he agreed readily, and made such a brisk start that I had to hurry after him. It wouldn’t do at all to have him pitch headlong.

  Poor Jamie was a real soldier, plodding on with great determination. Luckily, it hadn’t occurred to him yet to be frightened. He had always trusted in me, and that was serving us both very well just now.

  This track through the forest was eerie at night. On the one side, where the hill rose above us, the trees looked black and utterly impenetrable. On the other side the ground fell away sharply. In daylight the view spread over miles of wonderful Highland country, but now I could see little more than the black outline of mountains, jagged against the sky.

  Now that we had come over the crest of the hill and were out of sight of the castle, not a single light glimmered in the great darkness. There was not a sign of human habitation anywhere. The only sound was a whining of wind in the fir trees—a cold noise that had no comfort in it.

  Or was that the only sound?

  Far away I thought I heard a motor cough into life. I listened, fear spurting through my veins. The throaty grumble was like the baying of eager hounds.

  I gripped Jamie’s hand more tightly, and pulled him along. “Come on, we mustn’t miss the bus.”

  The poor little mite must have been worn out, but he made a gallant effort to respond. His almost five-year-old legs weren’t built for such rough country, such distances. My every step was three to him, and each muddy pothole a deep pit.

  And all the time the ominous threat of that engine grew louder. Soon there could be no doubt at all. A jeep was coming up this very track. Craig had chosen the right direction without hesitation.

  Was my strategy so completely transparent to him? The affinity of thought between us that I’d so delighted to discover these last few days was a positive danger now. Craig knew the way my mind worked too well.

  As the jeep came nearer I could hear the variation in engine pitch when it charged a short gradient, or ran down a small declivity. I heard a screaming note as the tires spun momentarily in the soft mud, before the four-wheel-drive found a grip again.

  I was done for, that was certain.

  Closer, always closer, the jeep roared its determined way around the curving ridge of the hill. The forest was weirdly alight, alive with the movement of stabbing headlights. At any moment Jamie and I would be transfixed like startled rabbits in the glare, and our brief freedom would be over.

  Had there ever been the slenderest chance for us, I wondered miserably. So much had depended on luck, on so many separate factors slotting one into the other. It had been too much to expect.

  But to be found so soon. To be barely off the McKinross estate when we were caught I

  I wasn’t going to let that happen, not if I could help it. We didn’t just have to stand there and offer ourselves, did we? We could still make a run for it—even a little boy of less than five.

  As the brilliant headlights swept toward us, dangerously near, I grabbed at Jamie and pulled him after me into the shelter of the forest. The undergrowth crackled as we pushed our way through, but nobody would hear that above the jeep’s engine. I was fearful of twigs tearing at us, catching our eyes. I held my free arm across Jamie’s face as some protection.

  We managed five yards from the track—no more. We hadn’t time for more, the jeep was almost upon us. I threw Jamie to the ground, covering the whiteness of our faces with my heavy dark coat. We crouched there, Jamie trembling violently, as the engine noise reached a crescendo, and then fell off abruptly.

  When the jeep had gone past I sat up and cradled the little boy in my arms. “I’m sorry I was so rough, darling. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”

  He was crying now, from the shock of my sudden dive for shelter.

  “Isn’t the game over yet, Lucy?” he whimpered. “When are we going to get on the bus?”

  I stroked his head. “Soon, darling. We’ll just stay here for a bit and have a little rest.”

  “But you said we had to hurry up.”

  Children can be so devastatingly logical at times.

  “We’ve got a few minutes to spare,” I answered hastily.

  I reckoned that the jeep was up on the road by now. It sounded as if it was reversing, maybe turning around. A moment later I knew I was right. It came rushing back past our hiding place at full speed.

  I waited while the sound faded away until it was only a murmur in the distance. Then I stood up.

  “Come on, Jamie,” I said, pulling him to his feet

  “Was it my daddy in the jeep?”

  “It... it might have been.”

  “Why did we hide from my daddy?” he sobbed wildly “I want to go home....”

  “Soon, Jamie darling,” I soothed. “We have to go on the bus first, remember.”

  Somehow I got him going again. The track ended about a hundred yards further on, but I didn’t notice the road until we were almost upon it. The tarmac strip was very narrow, and it hardly seemed possible that it could be a bus route. I had to tell myself that I couldn’t possibly have made a mistake—there was no other road anywhere near.

  We stood waiting on the grassy verge, shivering. It wasn’t really cold, but the bleakness seemed to penetrate. I felt desperately exposed here, and I checked that there was a way into the trees behind us, so we could run for shelter again if need be. If the jeep came back ...

  I could only hope that in this sort of district the buses would stop anywhere, not just at recognized pickup stops. I clutched the flashlight in readiness to wave the driver down. If the bus was on schedule, we had about ten minutes to go.

  It was a dreadful ten minutes, full of agonized doubt and crawling fear. All the time my ears were strained to catch the noise of the jeep returning to search again.

  In my fearful anxiety, the sound I’d been longing to hear reached me as an ominous threat of danger. I was already drawing Jamie back into the cover of the trees when I recognized for sure the throaty pulse of a laboring diesel slowly climbing the hill.

  Long before the bus was anywhere near enough, I was standing in the middle of the road, waving the flashlight up and down. I had to be sure the driver could see my signal.

  The sight of the bus coming toward us seemed to revive Jamie. He began a little dance of excitement, and I had to marvel at the resilience of small children. Still flashing the light, I pulled him to the side of the road as the bus came up to us.

  For one horrified moment I thought it was going to sweep right on past without stopping. But then I
realized that the driver was drawing up so that the door was neatly alongside us. A couple of steps up and we were safe inside, blinking in the bright warm light.

  Thankfully, we fell into the nearest seat. The bus seemed hardly more than a quarter full.

  The conductor ambled up to collect our fares. A gray-haired man and rather stout, he fussed over Jamie.

  “You poor wee laddie. It is late for you to be out of your bed.” There was criticism of me behind the softly lilting words. I suppose it looked to him like I deserved it.

  Nervously, I asked for tickets “all the way.” In my anxiety I had forgotten the name of the village, and I didn’t want to bring out the map now.

  I put my arm around Jamie and pulled him towards me, making him comfortable. I hoped he might go straight to sleep. That way there’d be no danger of him asking awkward questions which might be overheard. In any case, he could do with half an hour’s sleep. There was going to be an awful lot of disturbance for him before the night was over.

  “Good evening to you, Miss Calvert.” The voice above my head made me jump. I glanced up quickly, apprehensively, and recognized Angus MacRae, the foreman forester. He was looking down at me in some surprise.

  “I thought it must be yourself and the wee laddie.” He nodded toward Jamie’s sleepily drooping head. “It is late for him to be out....”

  “Yes,” I agreed. “Yes, it is rather ...” I couldn’t think of anything to add by way of a plausible explanation I tried giving him a bright smile.

  The man was clearly very puzzled. “Would there be something wrong, miss?”

  “No.” I said it a shade too quickly. “Thank you—everything’s all right.”

  “Ah well ...” But he wasn’t satisfied, I could tell. Fortunately, though, in his position there was nothing he could do to interfere.

  Or so I was naive enough to believe at the time. Two or three miles further on the bus drew up again. Angus MacRae touched his cap to me as he passed on his way to the door.

  “Good night to you, miss.”

  The conductor ribbed him brightly. “This is not your stop, Angus. What are you up to, then?”