There are tears slipping soundlessly down my cheeks again. I didn’t think I had any left in me. “Me too.”
* * *
• • •
We scatter my father’s ashes in the wood a few weeks later. The remaining McCues come along, with Sheba and Toast in tow. The wind is flighty that day; it’s prone to sudden changes of heart and direction, which is how a most indignant Callum and the two dogs come to find themselves showered in some of the said ashes. It’s frankly hysterical, if not exactly respectful.
It’s late when we all head back to the Manse, and the light is fading. Callum and I are a little ahead of the others. As we approach the garden wall, I can barely see Toast. “Look,” he says suddenly.
“What?”
“The cat.”
“I see her.” The gray cat is prowling on the wall as before. As we get closer, she turns her head to us, her tail swaying menacingly as she stalks. “Can you see what she’s stalking?”
“The bird, of course.”
“Wha—” But we’re close enough for me to see through the bars of the iron gate to the injured bird. As we watch, the cat leaps lightly down from the wall into the garden and starts to stalk the bird from within the walls. I’ve been assuming it was the carbon monoxide poisoning that led me to see the bird. I don’t know what to think now.
Callum takes hold of my hand. “Dinnae worry,” he says, anxious to reassure me, though he misconstrues the source of my consternation. “I dinnae think the cat will get it. It will slip away in time.”
“Time folds here,” I murmur. I don’t believe it, and yet there’s a splinter of myself that can’t entirely reject the notion. Just like with my feelings on Fiona, there’s a part of me that can’t quite subsume into the whole.
“Aye.”
“I wonder what could make it do that.”
Callum looks surprised. “It’s the Manse,” he says, as if speaking a self-evident truth. Which he may be. Callum McCue, babe in arms. I think of Fiona, weeks ago in the Quaich: He put them out of reach. “But it’s okay now. Look, the animals go into the grounds now.” He gestures at Sheba and Toast, waiting impatiently for us at the gate.
I open the iron gate, the dogs slip through and we follow, and the Manse watches us all. I suppose I’m glad of it now. The Manse will always be watching us.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Writing a second book is not like writing the first. I don’t mean that every book is different, though of course there’s an element of that. The crucial difference is that when you write your first book, you don’t have a publisher, which means you don’t have a deadline. Deadlines—well. Deadlines put a whole new spin on this writing lark.
Consequently I must offer my heartfelt gratitude and thankfulness to my family, who all bore the brunt of a hollow-eyed, half-crazed wife/mother/sister/sister-in-law/daughter/daughter-in-law with remarkable equanimity and understanding. Without their help and support in keeping the home fires burning, The Missing Years would not have come into being—or at least, not for another twelve/fifteen/eighteen months or so . . . I still find it remarkable that the dreaded deadline was in fact met, and that is entirely due to these lovely people I am so fortunate to have in my life. Thank you all, you have my heart.
To my extraordinary agent, Marcy Posner—who coped with more than my usual levels of insecurity and neurosis on this project—I am, as ever, hugely indebted and enormously grateful. On the countless times when I felt unworthy to type even a single word, Marcy was able to offer advice and encouragement and keep me writing. Marcy: a million thank yous, I couldn’t have done it without you. And to Abbie and Rachel, also from FolioLit, thanks so much for your helpful comments and insights.
To Kerry Donovan and the wonderful team at Berkley and Penguin Random House: you are so much more than a deadline! My sincere thanks go to all of you for your encouragement, dedication and unstinting enthusiasm. I am so grateful, in what often seems like a world of instant gratification, to be working with a team of such talented professionals who are committed to nurturing long-term careers for their writers. Thank you for your commitment to The Missing Years; I am more than a little humbled by it.
Thank you to my lovely friend Faye Raincock, for a fabulous lunch laying out for me all the goings-on in newsrooms. The book took a turn away from that, but I think there’s something in there, and I think you, Faye, might be just the person to write it. And to all my friends, thank you for the unending supply of empathy, support, help with the kids (special mention to the wonderful Laura Dent, who took the boys to the school bus every day when I broke my leg), catch-up coffees, lunches and raucous dinners (another Not-New-Year, anyone?!). And thank you all for getting behind The French Girl. I’ve been so touched by how involved you’ve all been in generally getting the message out, and in buying the book for multiple family members. Same again for The Missing Years please, if you’d be so kind!
And lastly, thank you to all my readers. In an era when time is a precious commodity, it’s an enormous privilege that you’ve afforded some of yours to reading my novels. I’ve had the opportunity to interact with some of you via e-mail or social media, and I think I can safely say that my particular readers are the nicest, kindest and most thoughtful people on the planet. It’s been a pleasure to make your acquaintance.
Readers Guide for
The Missing Years
QUESTIONS FOR DISCUSSION
The development of Carrie and Ailsa’s relationship is central to the novel. Carrie feels that Ailsa abandoned her when she left home. Is this fair? What responsibility do we have toward our siblings?
The novel is set in Scotland, essentially in the landscape of the author’s childhood. Do you think the story would have had the same impact in a different setting? How much does setting contribute to the tone of a novel?
Ailsa claims that “to all intents and purposes, Carrie and I had different mothers.” Do you think this can be said of all siblings? Is everyone’s childhood experience unique?
What do you think was the most likely cause of Ailsa’s father’s disappearance?
The author uses the Manse as if it is a major character in the novel. How did that approach contribute to building suspense?
Do you think that Ailsa’s professional career would have been helped or hindered by her relationship with Jonathan?
Ben has never told anyone about what they found in the woods out of loyalty to Fiona. Do you think that was the right decision? What would you have done?
Glen McCue appears to regret the manner in which he brought up Fiona and Jamie, commenting that he should have “been gentler, maybe. Fewer thrashings and more talking. Like all these modern dads I keep hearing about.” Is it fair to judge previous generations by the moral and ethical yardsticks of the modern day?
Ailsa lies to the police under duress from Carrie. Would you have done the same?
Who do you think had the most suspicious interest in the Manse?
At the end of the novel, Ailsa feels ambivalent as to whether she believes in “Fi facts.” When you were reading the novel, did you have a strong opinion, or did you also feel ambivalent? Do you believe Fi is right about how time can “slip”?
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Lexie Elliott grew up in Scotland, at the foot of the Highlands. She graduated from Oxford University, where she obtained a doctorate in theoretical physics. A keen sportswoman, she works in fund management in London, where she lives with her husband and two sons. The rest of her time is spent writing, or thinking about writing, and juggling family life and sport.
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Lexie Elliott, The Missing Years
The Missing Years Page 34