‘The armoury?’
He nodded. ‘She’ll have had her work cut out over there this morning and later she’ll give me a row about the unhygienic state of that kitchenette. Poor Wilma takes dirt as a personal affront. She sees it as her mission in life to eradicate it and I don’t make things easy for her.’
‘Thanks for clearing up. Did you see
… anything odd?’
‘No. No sign of herself this morning.’
‘And did you find the hatpin? I had a look round but I couldn’t find it.’
‘I put it beside the laptop.’
‘Thanks. You didn’t open—’
‘No,
I didn’t touch the laptop.’
‘
Neither did I. Couldn’t face it this morning. Did you hear any music earlier?’
‘Music?’
‘The harpsichord. I heard it when I was in the library.’
‘No. I heard nothing.’
‘Neither did Sholto. But he does sense her presence, Alec.’ His eyes widened. ‘He’s started dreaming about her and says he sometimes senses her in the room.’
‘Had you said anything about
last night?’
‘O
f course not. We’d been talking about Meredith and Liz. I was just about to leave, when he came right out with it. He told me he sensed Meredith was in the room.’
‘Could
you
sense her?’
‘No
, but I’d already heard the harpsichord and whenever I hear that, it’s as if she’s somehow got inside my head. Even when she’s not around, I imagine that she is.’
Alec laid his hand on my arm.
‘Jenny, d’you see now why you must leave? She’s getting to you.’
‘No, she isn’t,
I’m just being a wimp, that’s all. I can handle it, Alec. I just don’t want her getting to Sholto. I can look after myself, but he can’t. He’s old and infirm. And depressed about Cauldstane.’
‘Did he discuss selling up?’
‘Only to say he’s not prepared to do it. Not yet anyway. Do you think that’s what she wants? To drive you all out?’
‘Probably
. All Sholto wants now is to hand over Cauldstane in good heart to his sons. The icing on the cake for him would be if it looked likely there’d be a new generation of MacNabs prepared to keep the old place going. His legacy is all he cares about now. So I imagine it’s all part of Meredith’s game plan that Sholto should sell up and Ferg and I should live out our days like monks because no woman will touch us for fear of invoking the MacNab curse.’
‘If you weren’t clutching a dustpan and brush, I’d show you exactly what I think of Meredith’s game plan.’
Without speaking, Alec bent gracefully and placed the pan and brush on the floor. When he straightened up, I put my hand up to his head, threaded my fingers through the untidy curls and brought his face down to the level of mine. We kissed.
When I came up for air, I stood with my arms round Alec’s
narrow waist, my head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat. Then a thought struck me and I looked up.
‘Di
d you clean up my room without your sword?’
He frowned.
‘A sword’s no good for sweeping.’
‘No, I meant did you venture in without any…
protection?’
‘Och, no
, I had my wee dirk. I never go anywhere without it.’
I snugg
led up again and as his arms pulled me tighter against his body, I murmured, ‘Is that a
sgian dubh
in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?’
He
laughed and we kissed again.
~
My lighthearted mood was short-lived. Back in my room, I switched on the laptop and while I waited for it to load, I picked up the hatpin Alec had placed on the table. I stared at it, as if close examination would give me some clue as to why Meredith had left it in my room.
I put the pin inside my pencil case and
zipped it shut, then I opened up my Cauldstane notes. I’d resolved that if Meredith’s rants were still there, I would delete them, but a part of me hoped they would already be gone. I scrolled to the end of my notes and was dismayed to see her rambling narrative. Furious, I highlighted the text, scrolling down, preparing to delete every word. Then I saw there was a new message at the end. A long one. I should have just carried on scrolling and deleted everything. But I didn’t. I stopped and read it.
When, some time later, Alec knocked on my door and asked if I was going down to lunch, he found me lying on the bed. I told him I had a headache and wasn’t hungry. He offered to make me a sandwich and bring it upstairs
, but I told him I just wanted to be left alone. He asked if Meredith had left me any more messages and I said no. He looked relieved, then went downstairs for lunch.
I felt awful lying to him, but I didn’t really have a choice. If I’d told him
she had, he would have asked what it said and there was no way I could let Alec read what she’d written this time.
I suppose t
hat’s when things started to go wrong. Really wrong. When I had to lie to Alec. And it was all Meredith’s doing.
~
You can have no idea what it’s like to watch yourself die.
I’d watche
d my own death many times on videotape. My deaths as Tosca, Cio-Cio-San and Desdemona were immortalized on film. My greatest theatrical triumph was playing a dead woman: Eurydice, the beloved wife who’s brought back from the Underworld by her desperate, grieving husband.
It’s quite something to go into a theatre, sign in, put
on your make-up and costume, warm up, knowing you’re going to die later on in the evening; that you’re going to be stabbed or smothered, or that you’ll leap to your death from castle battlements. It’s upsetting. Disturbing. Thank God for the curtain call when you can come back on stage and lap up all the applause. “I am the resurrection and the life.” Well, not quite, but you know what I mean.
Except you
don’t, do you? A mere wordsmith like you? You can’t know what I gave for my art. Nor do you know what it’s like to watch yourself die for real, as I did, smashing into that tree, seeing the front of the car crumple, the windscreen shatter, feeling the driving wheel ram me back against the seat, cracking my ribs, crushing my lungs and splitting my heart.
They said, “She wouldn’t have known what hit her.” Oh, but I did. I knew exactly what was happening to me. I remember it as if it were yesterday. As I opened my mouth to scream, it filled with tiny pieces of glass.
You don’t forget a thing like that. Not even when you’re dead.
T
hat day the world lost a great artist and Sholto lost a wife of whom he was unworthy. The quiet family funeral deprived me of the recognition and adoration that was my due. And now Sholto thinks I’m going to be relegated to a mere episode in his wretched memoir! Can he seriously think I’m going to play second fiddle – in death as in life – to that frump, Liz?
This castle is haunted, this family
cursed. Nothing good will befall the MacNabs, I shall see to that. My powers are limited, but they’re sufficient for my purpose. It’s really very simple. Sholto was mine and will remain mine. Alec never was mine, so he will be nobody’s. I allow no rivals, however paltry. I amused myself bullying Alec, then intimidating Coral. (Hardly a worthy adversary! Breaking her was too easy. I prefer a challenge. Like Alec.)
I suspect you might be made of stronger stuff, Jenny, but not strong enough.
Take my advice and get out now. Last night’s display was just a taster of what you’re in for if you stay.
Leave Cauldstane.
Leave Alec to me.
Leave Sholto to rot – which is
what he deserves.
You can
never win because I have nothing – absolutely nothing – to lose. You, on the other hand, stand to lose everything. And what man is worth that? None in my experience – and believe me, I’ve known a few. So be a good girl. Pack your bags and go. You know it makes sense. Cauldstane women die in the end. Just look at us… Liz. Coral. Even me.
D
o you really want to join us?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
I didn’t know what t
o do. Who could I tell? The one person who would have believed me was the one person I couldn’t tell. There was no way I wanted Alec to know his wife had been bullied into breakdown, nor did I want him to suspect – as I now did – that Meredith might somehow have been responsible for Coral’s death. Despite her claim to special powers, some of which I’d witnessed, I didn’t see how a ghost could make a happily pregnant woman drown herself, but there was no doubt Meredith had tried to drive the poor woman to breaking point. Perhaps she’d succeeded.
Alec wanted to believe Coral’s death had been an accident and that was the most likely explanation. I had no right, whatever my personal circumstances, to sow the seeds of doubt in an already troubled mind. It would only torment him further and for all I knew, this was precisely what Meredith wanted.
One thing seemed clear. I was not going to leave. I’d told Alec I was stubborn and it was true. But I
was
frightened – frightened by Meredith’s threats, by what I’d seen her do and what I’d heard she’d done. She had every reason to want me out of the way. I was a rival for Alec’s affections. I was the channel through which Sholto would tell his story, a story in which Meredith would feature only as a subsidiary character and possibly not to her credit. I was what stood between Meredith and her control of the MacNabs. If my book was a success, they might make enough money to hold on to Cauldstane for a bit longer. My friendship with Alec had provided him with someone who could share the burden of knowledge and suspicion he’d borne alone for half his life. He’d been trying to protect his family single-handed, but now he had a partner of sorts. I might not be of much practical use, but the laptop had provided Meredith with a channel for communicating. In common with some who were criminally insane, she talked too much and gave herself away in her grandiose, self-justifying rants. If we just ignored her threats, I felt sure we could stay one jump ahead. Meredith might be evil and devoid of conscience, but I had a hunch she wasn’t all that bright. Between us, Alec and I could surely find a way to evict her from Cauldstane. I had to believe it was possible. If I allowed myself to think there was no way out, Meredith had already won.
I clung to the fact that she was mostly bluff. Alec had said, “It’s all mind games with Meredith”. Bullying. Threats. Emotional manipulation. She could certainly make her presence felt, but what else could she actually do? Hurl china. Make a hatpin fly through the air. Write on a laptop. Produce auditory hallucinations. Perhaps she was able to haunt dreams. It didn’t amount to a great deal. The biggest weapon in her armoury was fear. Fear of what she
might
do.
Well, I knew all about fear. Meredith had chosen the wrong woman to bully because I’d lived with crippling, irrational fear for so long, I’d sworn I would never live like that again. I’d re-arranged my entire life, even changed my name, so I could live sanely, without fear. Fear of my
own power to create and destroy. Fear of madness. Fear of fear itself.
Meredith
evidently thought I was made of sterner stuff than Coral. I wasn’t so sure, but nothing would make me abandon Cauldstane now. I had an emotional and professional stake in the place. I was going to finish Sholto’s book. Even Alec couldn’t persuade me to leave.
And that was something else Meredith
got wrong. She claimed there was no man for whom it was worth risking everything. I begged to differ. I thought Alec MacNab probably was
worth it.
~
Faced with dire situations like this, I suppose some people might turn to God. I did the next best thing. I turned to Rupert.
I sat d
own at the laptop and composed a long letter. When I’d finished, I went down to the Cauldstane office, printed it out, took an envelope and addressed it to Rupert. I sealed the envelope, got into my car and drove away from Cauldstane. I parked in a lay-by several miles away, then rang Rupert.
‘Hi, it’s me.’
‘Jen! How nice to hear from you. How are you getting on in the Highlands?’
‘Fine. Well… not
fine
exactly. There have been a few problems.’
‘With the book?’
‘No, the book’s going to be OK, I think. If I get to write it.’
‘Is the subject being difficult?’
‘No, he’s a dear. The problem is… his wife.’
‘I thought you
told me she was dead?’
‘She is.’
There was a long silence then Rupert said, ‘Jen, are you all right?’
‘I’m fine
. Really, I am. But some very strange things are going on here and I’d like your advice.’
‘Of course. Anything I can do to help
, just ask.’
‘I am asking, Rupert and I warn you now, it’s going to be a big ask.’ I paused, uncertain if I could go on. Rupert would be the first to think I’d lost my marbles again – he’d watched it happen last time – but he was also the only person on the planet in whom I felt
I could confide and who I knew would give me a fair hearing. He would also be able to answer the question I needed to ask.
I stared at the envelope on the passenger seat and said,
‘Listen, I’m going to send you a letter. Not an email, a letter.’
‘How quaint. Why not an email?’
‘I don’t trust my laptop. It’s been playing up lately. I’d rather send you a letter and I want you to text me when you get it. And when you’ve read it, I want you to give me your advice.’
‘You’re breaking up, Jen… Are you on your mobile?’
‘Yes. I’m sitting in my car. I didn’t want to risk anyone at the castle overhearing me.’
‘
Castle?
’
I groaned.
‘Yes, but please forget I said that.’
‘Said what?’
I laughed, despite myself. ‘Thanks, I needed that… Look, I can’t explain now, but it will all be in the letter. When you’ve read it, I want you to tell me what to do.’
‘Well, I hope I’
m qualified to do so.’
‘Oh, don’t worry, this is your area of expertise.’
‘You’re sure?’
‘Positive. You see, Rupert, I need to know how to exorcise a ghost.’
‘Jen, you’re breaking up again. It sounded like you said you wanted to exorcise a ghost.’
‘I did.’
There was another long silence, then Rupert said gently, ‘I see… You know, Jen, that’s not something for an amateur to tackle. You need to call in an expert. In the first instance, you should talk to the local priest. If he’s not equipped to deal with it, he’ll know a man who is. The Church avoids publicising these matters, but we do have procedures for delivering troubled households from the influence of unquiet spirits.
Evil
spirits even. But the local priest would be your first port of call.’
‘I can’t do that. I’m not family and only one other person apart from me knows the place is haunted. And he’s not the owner of the property. He’d ha
ve no authority to summon ghostbusters.’
‘
Please
, Jen.’ Rupert sounded pained. ‘Don’t be flippant. This is a very serious matter.’
‘You’re telling me! I’ve see
n what this ghost can do. We need help urgently.’
‘You say you can’t discuss this with the owner of the property?’
‘No, he’d think I was barking mad and then I might lose the commission. Look, I just want your advice. I want you to tell me what can be done. By the Church, by mediums,
anyone
.’
‘Oh, d
on’t go summoning a medium! That could do more harm than good. And I absolutely forbid you to try any funny business with a ouija board. People think they’re some sort of toy, but they can stir up serious trouble.’
‘Oh, Rupert…’ My eyes began to fill
with tears. ‘You actually
believe
me, don’t you?’
‘Of course I believe you.
Why would you lie about something as disturbing as this?’
‘But you’re a
scientist
.’
‘And a man of God. And as both phy
sicist and man of God, I’ve experienced things I cannot explain, which I therefore respect.’
‘Are
you
qualified to deal with… our problem?’
He hesitated, then said, ‘I am, but it would be
much better to consult the local chap. There are ways of doing these things, Jen. Protocols. I wouldn’t want to step on any toes.’
‘But I have no authority to ask anyone
but you. You have to help me, Rupert! Promise me you’ll help. Please come and – and…’ I was weeping now. I couldn’t help myself. ‘Deliver us from
evil
.’
‘Jen, calm down
. Please don’t get upset. You know I’ll do my very best. I’ll make sure you get appropriate help. Send me that letter and we’ll take it from there.’
I wiped my eyes
, looked at my watch and realised it was many hours since I’d eaten. No wonder I was feeling light-headed. ‘Don’t email me, Rupert. Text, then I’ll ring you. I can’t explain now, but I think that’s the best way to communicate.’
‘Of course. But are you sure you’re going to be all right? You sounded... frightened just now.’
‘No, I’m not. Not really. I’m just rattled, that’s all. And angry. But I refuse to be frightened. That’s exactly what she wants.’
‘She
?’
‘The ghost.’
‘Oh,
Jen
.’
‘Look,
I have to go. I’m going to post this letter now. When you’ve read it, you’ll understand everything. My landline number is in the letter, but you’re not to use it. I’m just giving it to you in case of… well, of direst emergency. It’s professionally unethical for me to give you the number, but I’m making an exception because you’re a clergyman.’
‘Thank you for entrusting me with the information.’
‘Thank you for being there. You have no idea what it means to know that maybe something can be
done
for this poor family.’
‘Well, if it’s all right with you, I
’ll pray for them. I’d also like to pray for you, Jen.’
‘Be my guest.
We’re going to need all the help we can get.’
I
thanked him again and hung up. As I drove off in search of a postbox, Rupert’s words echoed in my mind.
Jen, you’re breaking up again…
I sincerely hoped I wasn’t. I was damned if I was going to go mad again.
~
When I got back to Cauldstane I found someone – Wilma, probably – had left cake and a thermos of coffee in my room. Both were welcome and I despatched them while examining the hatpin. It was about twenty centimetres long and made of silver. The decorative end was an amethyst sitting in a silver cup, cut so that it resembled a thistle.
Meredith
had left it as some sort of clue, but to what? If she was taunting me with something, what did she want me to guess, or try to guess? Was she telling me something about Zelda? Did the enigmatic laptop message hint that Zelda had caused some harm? To whom? Or was it just a threat directed at
me
? I decided the best way to stave off paranoia was to give the hatpin back to Zelda.
Standing in the
passageway, I listened for sounds coming from her room. I’d never thought of myself as someone who
skulked
, but increasingly, this is what I found myself doing at Cauldstane: lurking in corridors, listening, watching, as if there were a mad woman in the attic who might be on the prowl. Perhaps the mad woman was me.
Zelda’s room
was quiet, but I could hear female voices downstairs. If you were looking for someone at Cauldstane, the kitchen was always a good place to start. People gravitated there to warm up, snaffle biscuits and pick at leftovers. Wilma wasn’t the sort of cook who drove intruders out of her domain. Her kitchen was more like a salon where family members would congregate for “a wee blether” or to listen to the news on the radio. So I headed downstairs, hoping I’d find Zelda in the kitchen.
I
pushed the door open and found Wilma decorating a huge pie with raw pastry trimmings. Zelda and Alec were seated at the table with mugs and empty plates. I didn’t miss the look of relief that passed swiftly across Alec’s face when he saw me. Hoping my face betrayed less than his, I looked away and said casually, ‘Hope I’m not disturbing anything?’
Zelda looked up from a pile of cookery books open in front of her, removed her glasses and waved
me towards a chair. ‘Not at all! Come in and sit down, Jenny. We missed you at lunch. Alec said you weren’t feeling well.’
‘
Just a touch of migraine, that’s all. I took some painkillers and it wore off. I came down because I wanted to return this to you.’ Watching Zelda’s face carefully for reaction, I produced the hatpin. ‘I found it in my room.’