Waterfall Glen

by Davie Henderson

  In place of fear, Cameron Fraser felt a wild abandon, and as the big Londoner took a step forward the Scotsman stepped in to meet him, hands raised in a high guard.

  Just as they were about to close to striking distance a face appeared in the slanting shaft of moonlight Carling had just walked through.

  Carling saw Cameron’s apparent distraction, and thought it was a crude ploy to divert his attention. “You’ll have to do better than that, Jock,” he said.

  His smile froze when he felt a tap on the shoulder. He turned around in time to receive a heavy blow to his cheek with the butt of a shotgun, knocking him flat on his back and out cold.

  Standing over the fallen Englishman, Finlay McRae said, “That was for wee Hamish and Double Ecky.” Then he winced with pain and clutched at his chest.

  “Finlay, are you okay?” Cameron said, fearing the old man was having a seizure.

  Finlay managed to smile through the pain. “Aye, it’s just my ribs,” he said. “But it was worth it.”

  “Where did you appear from?”

  “I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a wee walk up to the shooting blind, just in case the chance presented itself to settle my account with Mr. Tony Carling. My compliments on the way you settled your account and Miss Brodie’s, by the way. Oh, to be young again,” he added wistfully. Gesturing to the Nikon around Cameron’s neck, he said, “I take it from the flash of your camera that you got some photos?”

  Cameron nodded. “I’m not sure what he was up to, though.”

  Finlay walked over to the wicker crate by the edge of the lochan. There was one thrashing creature left in it. Shining a torch on it, he said, “American crayfish!” in disgust.

  “I don’t understand,” Cameron said.

  “They’re vicious predators that eat everything else around them. They would have been the kiss of death if we had been planning to start up a fish farm.”

  “Has he broken any laws by releasing them into the loch?”

  “Aye, he has, indeed. It’s just a pity he won’t be convicted for the fire in Double Ecky’s croft and causing the Land Rover crash as well. Still, when your photographs appear in the paper, I don’t think anyone will have the slightest doubt about what’s been going on in The Cranoch over the last couple of weeks.”

  A groan told them Tony Carling was coming to. Finlay shone his torch on the fallen man, who blinked and rolled over onto his side before struggling groggily to his knees. Finlay handed Cameron the torch and, shotgun in his right hand, used his left hand to grab Carling by the hair. “If you ever, ever set foot in The Cranoch again, I swear I’ll use the other end of the gun on you,” Finlay said before swinging Carling’s head down so forcefully that the Londoner ended up on all fours.

  Turning to Cameron, Finlay said, “Now, Mr. Fraser, I think it’s time to go home.”

  And they did. Finlay McRae whistled Highland Laddie as they walked alongside the lochan in the moonlight, and Cameron Fraser thought about his Highland lady.

  It was almost dawn by the time they got back to Greystane. Cameron went up to the lounge to phone the police, while Finlay headed for the kitchen to fix up some breakfast. There was a light in the window, and when he opened the door Kate was sitting at the table, hands wrapped around a mug of cocoa.

  “What are you doing up at this hour, lass?” Finlay asked when he entered the lean-to.

  “I couldn’t sleep for worrying about Cameron. What are you doing, Finlay? You look like you’ve been up and about for ages.”

  “I took a little walk to the far end of the glen to keep Mr. Fraser company.”

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Everything is fine, lass. Everything is just fine.” He poured himself a mug of tea, and said, “There was a wee spot of bother, but it’s all taken care of.”

  “What sort of bother?”

  “Nothing to trouble yourself about.”

  “Finlay! Where’s Cameron?”

  “He’s just giving the police a little phone call.”

  “Finlay, what happened?”

  And then Finlay was recounting the events at the far end of the glen, glad to have someone to tell them to because he was proud of Cameron Fraser and wanted to share his pride.

  When Cameron came back, Kate waited for him to say something. When he didn’t, she said, “Is everything okay?” She waited for him to tell her what had happened in his own words, talk about the part he’d played.

  But he didn’t even hint at it. He just nodded, and all he said in his quiet voice was, “Yes, Kate, everything’s okay.”

  She threw her arms around him, loving him not just for the courage he’d found, but for the modesty he hadn’t lost, and believing him when he whispered, “Everything’s going to be all right, Kate.”

  “YOU HAVE TO HAND IT TO HIM, THE AMERICAN CRAYFISH was a nice touch,” Harry McLaren said.

  The Inverness Morning Herald reporter was standing with Cameron and Kate outside the town’s sheriff court. “With Lady Kate being from the States, a species from America scuppering plans for a fish farm has the sort of irony that would have added weight to the notion of a curse if it hadn’t been for these.” He looked at Cameron’s grainy black and white photos of Tony Carling poised beside a crate at the edge of the lochan. “Talk about being caught in the act,” the reporter said, chuckling away to himself. “It’ll be tomorrow’s front-page lead. We can’t explicitly blame Carling outright for things he hasn’t been found guilty of, you understand, but you won’t have to read too far between the lines to realise what’s been going on in the glen.”

  “I can’t tell you what a relief this is,” Kate said.

  “I can let you hear what I’ve got so far, if you’d like …”

  Kate nodded.

  The reporter took a spiral-bound notebook from the inside pocket of his tweed jacket and started reading the shorthand he’d scribbled in its pages: “‘A London businessman has been fined £1400 at Inverness Sheriff Court after the latest in a series of incidents apparently intended to add weight to the notion of the so-called Curse of The Cranoch.

  “‘Tony Carling (36), of Westminster Way, admitted willfully releasing a non-native species, namely American crayfish, into the lochan at Glen Cranoch in the early hours of Tuesday in contravention of the Wildlife and Countryside Act (1981).

  “‘Carling is chairman and managing director of Yeoman Holdings, the property firm which has been trying to buy The Cranoch Estate in the hope of turning it into a leisure resort.

  “‘The dramatic photo above’—I’m not sure which one we’ll use, but they’re all pretty dramatic—’led to a change of plea when produced as evidence in court. The picture was taken by Mr. Cameron Fraser, a close friend of Lady Kate Brodie, the American heiress who recently inherited the estate.

  “‘Apparently suspecting foul play was afoot after recent incidents in the glen—including a fire which destroyed a bride’s cottage on her wedding day, and a car crash caused by brake failure—Mr. Fraser and ghillie Finlay McRae set about trying to prove their suspicions. This photo was the result.

  “‘Asked outside the court whether he had been attempting to add substance to the notion of a Curse of The Cranoch, and intimidate Lady Kate into selling the wildly beautiful estate, Carling refused to comment.

  “‘He also declined to comment on how he sustained the severe swelling which marked one side of his face.

  “‘One person who was prepared to comment was Mr. McRae. The sprightly 76-year-old-former commando, a decorated D-Day veteran, said that Carling had been ‘sent homeward tae think again’.” The reporter chuckled to himself at that and said, “I think I’ll use that quote in the heading: how does ‘London businessman sent homeward tae think again’ sound to you?”

  “Better than you’d believe,” Kate told him.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d just like to add a few paragraphs about your plans for the glen, and how they might have been affected by all this.”

  Before Kate c
ould answer, her attention was distracted by a commotion when a van marked “NorthScot T” pulled up only yards from where they stood. She looked over the journalist’s shoulder to see a film crew piling out of the back and setting up a camera. An attractive young auburn-haired woman stepped out of the front of the van, sized up the scene at a glance, and said to Harry McLaren, “Excuse me, do you mind if we butt in—we’d like to do a live feed in time for the North Today lunchtime news.”

  The newspaperman responded with a gallant bow and said, “They’re all yours.”

  “Do you mind doing a quick interview?” the TV reporter asked Kate and Cameron.

  Before Kate could answer, a man with a large pair of headphones said, “Paula, we’re on in ten!” and handed her a microphone.

  The woman turned from Kate and Cameron, watching the hands of the man in the headphones as he counted down from ten with his fingers. When his last finger folded into his palm, she looked into the camera and said, “I’m standing outside Inverness Sheriff Court where London businessman Tony Carling has just been found guilty of an offence apparently aimed at perpetuating the notion of an ancient curse. With me is the American heiress at the heart of the story, Lady Kate Brodie.”

  The TV reporter turned to the side, and the cameraman pulled back to include Kate in the shot. “Lady Kate, thanks for joining us. First of all, can I ask if you ever at any stage believed that the unfortunate incidents which plagued your arrival in Glen Cranoch might have had a supernatural explanation?”

  “I wasn’t sure quite what to think,” Kate said into the proffered microphone.

  “And what do you think now?”

  “I think it’s quite obvious what’s been going on.”

  “Do you still plan to try and start up a fish farm?”

  “The fish farm was what you might call a red herring, if you’ll pardon the pun.”

  “So you’re sticking to the plan to save The Cranoch by using it as a venue for weddings?”

  Kate nodded.

  “Aren’t you afraid some people might still be put off by the notion of a curse, given the glen’s unhappy history?”

  “If there is such a thing as a curse, I think it would only work against those who try to harm the glen and its people—the Tony Carlings of this world.”

  “But surely you must recognise that people might think twice about getting married in a place with such a checkered history. I mean, would you be happy to get married there?”

  Kate’s surprise at that question was as nothing compared to the shock she felt moments later at the next one, for it wasn’t asked by the TV reporter, but by Cameron Fraser: “Well, Kate,” he said, “Would you?”

  Kate turned to Cameron, oblivious of the frantic gesturing of the director, who’d guessed what was about to happen and was signalling to his cameraman to pull back for a group shot.

  “Kate, would you marry me in the chapel at Greystane?” Cameron asked.

  Flash bulbs started going off all around, people began clapping, the TV reporter clasped her hands in delight—and Kate Brodie didn’t notice any of it. The only thing she could see was the face of the man she loved with all her heart; the only thing she could hear was his voice, saying, “Marry me, Kate Brodie …”

  And then, safe and secure and completely sure in his arms, she said just one word.

  “Yes.”

  INVERNESS MORNING HERALD

  Wednesday, August 26, 1996

  Skeleton found in Glen Cranoch

  POLICE FORENSIC investigators and archaeologists from Historic Scotland spent most of yesterday in a cave in Glen Cranoch following the discovery of human remains thought to date from the 1745 Jacobite rebellion.

  The discovery was made by Mr. Cameron Fraser, owner of a nearby cottage and fiancé of estate owner Lady Kate Brodie, while looking for a missing dog last week. Initially he thought he had simply stumbled on a cache of clansmen’s weapons hidden in the bloody aftermath of the ‘45. With light fading and lacking a torch he was unable to investigate further at that time.

  He intended going back the next day, but was sidetracked by a series of dramatic events including a car crash, a violent confrontation with London businessman Tony Carling, and a sensational marriage proposal made on live TV following the conclusion of the Carling court case.

  Little wonder, then, that it was several days before he remembered about the cache of weapons and went to investigate further.

  Entering the cave he found not only the basket-hilted broadsword which had originally caught his attention, but also the skeleton of the clansman who once carried it.

  Experts say it is still too early to positively date the remains, but indications suggest they are those of a clansmen who may well have fought alongside Bonnie Prince Charlie.

  INVERNESS MORNING HERALD

  Thursday, August 27, 1996

  Startling twist in case of Cranoch clansman

  IN A startling twist it appears that the body found in Glen Cranoch earlier this week may be that of a distant relative of Mr. Cameron Fraser, the man who discovered it.

  A distinctive owl-shaped silver brooch found on the remains of the clansman’s plaid matches that in a portrait of disgraced Jamie Chisholm which hangs in nearby Greystane Castle. Chisholm was known to have been present at Culloden in 1746, but was branded a coward after being seen fleeing from the field of battle. His eventual fate had hitherto been unknown.

  However, in a dramatic turn of events, it appears that a discovery made with the body may not only clear Jamie Chisholm’s name but in fact make him something of a hero. A silk battle standard was found folded inside the plaid which clothed the skeleton, leading experts to believe that the clansman had been trying to save the colours and return them to Greystane, the seat of his clan. The standard is covered in blood from the chest wound which it appears the gallant clansman succumbed to while being hunted by the Redcoats of “Butcher” Cumberland in the brutal aftermath of the battle.

  Mr. Fraser said, “It seems he must have run into the full force of musket fire and grape shot to save the colours and salvage some honour for the clan.

  “Had he been caught with these colours as he tried to make his way home he could have expected no quarter.

  “For two and a half centuries Jamie Chisholm has been reviled as a coward. Now I hope he’ll be remembered as a hero, and that not only his body but his soul can rest in peace.”

  INVERNESS MORNING HERALD

  Monday, September 21, 1996

  A Highland fling

  LADY KATE BRODIE was married at the weekend to Mr. Cameron Fraser, descendant of Jamie of the Colours—the Highland clansman whose name he helped to clear.

  Lady Kate was born in America and lived in Sausalito, near San Francisco, until inheriting the Cranoch Estate on the death of Mr. Colin Chisholm earlier this year. She has resisted renewed overtures by London-based developers Yeoman Holdings to buy the estate for one-million pounds, saying she fears it would lead to the despoiling of the glen, a “second clearance” of the crofters, and the end of a “gentler, more decent way of life that’s in danger of being lost forever”.

  She hopes to turn around the fortunes of the estate by using Greystane Castle for wedding packages, with particular emphasis on the US market.

  It was therefore fitting that Greystane was the venue for her own wedding, which was attended by her father Mr. Keith Brodie and godfather Mr. John Hammond, both retired law-enforcement officials from Sausalito.

  There had been considerable media interest in the wedding, given recent events in the glen and the troubled history of the Chisholm family. However, despite tabloid speculations relating to suggestions of a curse, the wedding went without a hitch, and a happy day was had by all.

  INVERNESS MORNING HERALD

  Monday, December 16, 1996

  Fairytale romance

  EVERY WEDDING is special to the friends and family of those involved, but some strike a chord even with strangers because they have a fairytale
quality that shows romance is not dead.

  That was certainly the case with a wedding held at Greystane House in The Cranoch Estate at the weekend.

  Cranoch owners Kate and Cameron Fraser—who hope to turn around the fortunes of the ailing estate by using it for wedding packages—said few weddings will mean as much to them as the one they arranged on Saturday.

  The marriage was between estate worker Miss Mabel Weir and Mrs Fraser’s godfather Mr. John Hammond. The happy couple met at the recent wedding of Lady Kate and Cameron Fraser, hit it off, and kindled the flames of their romance by means of email!

  Estate ghillie Finlay McRae said that no one should be too surprised by the wedding—after all, to the amusement of all concerned, Miss Weir had caught the bridal bouquet at Lady Kate’s wedding!

  INVERNESS MORNING HERALD

  Tuesday, September 22, 1997

  Generous gesture

  LADY KATE FRASER has given the crofters on the former Cranoch estate—now renamed Waterfall Glen—title to their land for a nominal sum of £1 each.

  She said that Highland Fling Weddings, the business which she and husband Cameron formed in a bid to save the once ailing estate, had succeeded beyond their wildest dreams and the gesture was a way of sharing that success and celebrating the happiness of their own marriage with the people around them—people they did not want to look on as tenants, but rather as friends.

  Asked if she thought this would lay to rest the “Curse of The Cranoch” which was said to have dogged the family since Lady Carolyn Chisholm cleared the glen to make way for sheep two and a half centuries earlier, Lady Kate said, “I guess only time will tell.”