The Road to Rowanbrae (32 page)

‘I'd like to think it over a bit longer.'

Mysie thought it over that night. She had liked the place, recently built on the outskirts of the city, and all on one level. It was set in its own grounds, and it would be like living in the countryside again. The single rooms were light and airy, but you didn't have to be cooped up there all the time. There was a common room where the residents could sit and talk to each other, a TV room if you felt so inclined, a dining room for those fit enough to get to it, and those who weren't had their meals served in their rooms. Best of all, there was a welcoming feeling as soon as you went through the door, and Mrs Warrender, the woman who ran it, was very pleasant. She was a woman of between forty and fifty, stout and motherly with a gentle manner. Yes, Mysie decided, she would like to live there, even if the fees were exorbitant. If Gina didn't need her money, what else was there to do with it?

The arrangements were made very quickly, and within three weeks, Mysie was installed in Sunnyfields Private Nursing Home, with Gina's solemn promise that she and Campbell would visit her every Sunday.

Chapter Thirty-one

1984

There was something vaguely familiar about the young man who had rung her doorbell, Gina thought, although she was almost certain that she had never seen him before. ‘Yes?'

‘Mrs Bisset? You won't know me, but I'd like to talk to you for a few minutes, if you don't mind. I'd better explain that my name is Ewan Duncan and I'm …'

‘Ewan
Duncan
?' Now she knew why he'd looked familiar. ‘You must be Sandy's son? No, you can't be – you're too young.'

‘I'm your brother's grandson,' Ewan said, quietly. ‘May I come in?'

‘Of course.' Smiling, Gina showed him into the lounge. ‘How did you find me? How did you even know about me?'

‘My grandmother remembered that she had cut the announcement of your wedding out of the newspaper. Don't ask me why.'

‘Sandy's wife kept that all this time? That's fifty years ago. But it still doesn't explain how you found me.'

‘I went to your in-laws' house to ask where you lived now, but, as you'll know, they died some time ago and it was your husband's brother who inherited the house. He gave me your address, so here I am.'

‘Yes, so here you are.' Gina was still perplexed as to the purpose of his visit. ‘Why were you so keen to find me?'

His manner became guarded. ‘I wanted to know more about my family history, that's why I asked my grandmother, and …'

‘She told you I was the skeleton in the cupboard?' Gina gave a rippling laugh. ‘What do you want to know about me? There's nothing interesting, apart from the fact that I was born on the wrong side of the blankets.' She could joke about it now.

‘It's not really you I wanted to find out about. You see, I've bought a house in Burnlea, and I discovered that it had been built on the site of an old croft. When I mentioned to my grandmother that it was called Rowanbrae, she said she was sure that was where my grandfather had been born. This made me a bit curious, and when I looked up the Evaluation Rolls I learned that several James Duncans had leased it. Going by dates, the last of them must have been my great-grandfather, but apparently my grandfather had never told Grandma anything about his early life. I was a bit disappointed when I heard that, but when she told me that he'd had a sister, and gave me the clipping, I decided to come and ask if you knew anything about the croft, or about a possible fire?'

‘A fire?'

‘It seems the crofthouse was unoccupied for some time, and I presume it had either been abandoned as unprofitable, or left derelict, perhaps burned down, accidentally or intentionally.'

Gina's eyebrows lifted. ‘You've really been digging things up, haven't you?'

Unwilling to reveal what he
had
dug up, Ewan grinned self-consciously. ‘I was fascinated by it, but I haven't found out very much yet. As far as I can make out, no one lived there from some time after 1910, until the bungalow was built early in the thirties, the feu having been sold by the Phillips, who owned all Burnlea at that time. The rest of their estate was sold in 1962, but I don't know if they had both died and one of their family disposed of it, or if they had family at all.'

‘I know they had a son,' Gina butted in. ‘Sandy used to be quite friendly with Bobby Phillip at one time, but I was too young to pay any attention to what was said about him.'

‘It doesn't matter – I don't suppose he could tell me what I want to know, anyway. Burnlea is quite a township now, but I'm just trying to find out about the original Rowanbrae croft – as a matter of interest. Can you help?'

Gina sighed. ‘I'm sorry, I don't know anything about it. I was born in Aberdeen, you see, and my mother never spoke about the croft.' She sat up eagerly. ‘But you could go and ask her. I'm sure she would tell you everything you want to know.'

Ewan felt his pulse quickening. ‘Your mother's still alive?' It was a stupid question, he realised, as soon as he asked it, but Mrs Bisset looked to be over sixty although she was made up to the teeth, and he hadn't thought of asking before.

‘Mother's still going strong. It was her own decision to move into the home two years ago. She's ninety-five now.'

‘Is she still quite …?'

‘She's perfectly compos mentis, if that's what you mean. Her legs are crippled with arthritis, but her brain's still as clear as ever. I'm sure she'd be pleased to answer your questions.'

‘Which home is she in?'

‘Sunnyfields. Do you know it?'

‘Yes, I do. Would it be all right if I went this afternoon?'

‘You can't wait to get going, can you?' Gina chuckled. ‘Well, my husband and I visit her every Sunday, so I expect she'll be pleased to have someone on a Saturday for a change.'

‘Great!' Ewan made to rise, but Gina motioned to him to keep sitting. ‘I never knew if Sandy's child was a girl or a boy, but he must have had a son, if your name's Duncan, too?'

‘Yes, my father's name's Sam.' Impatient to carry on with his quest, he stood up abruptly. ‘You've been a great help, Mrs Bisset, thank you very much for listening to me.'

‘I'm your Aunt Gina … well, I would really be your father's aunt, of course, so you'd better just call me Gina.'

‘Dad'll be surprised when I tell him. I'm sure he doesn't know anything about you.'

Gina smiled as she got to her feet. ‘It's quite exciting to learn I've got relatives I didn't know existed, we must have a meeting some time to get to know each other. Oh, it's a good thing I remembered. My mother married again, and her surname is Wallace now. Did your grandmother ever remarry?'

‘No, she didn't.' Too keyed up to discuss anything else, Ewan stood up and took his leave quickly. He started his car and drove off in the direction of the city, but when he found a suitable spot he drew in to the side to think. It had never occurred to him that his great-grandmother might still be alive! Gina had said that her brain was still quite clear, but what about her memory? Hopefully, she would be like most old people and remember the distant past more clearly than the recent past.

Glancing at the clock on the dashboard, he saw that it was only ten to twelve – too near lunchtime to go to Sunnyfields – and he didn't fancy going home to Angie to make small talk with her and her parents, he was far too excited. The sensible thing would be to go in somewhere for a meal, but he wanted to be alone. Remembering having seen a Chinese carry-out in Holburn Street, he drove off again, and within fifteen minutes, he was sitting on a bench in the Johnstone Gardens – a small haven of peace off Queen's Road which was not so crowded as the other public parks – eating sweet-and-sour pork from one foil dish, and special fried rice from another. By his side sat a can of Coke he had bought in a grocer's shop to quench his thirst.

Lighting a cigarette, he wondered what he would say to the great-grandmother he was going to see. He could hardly come right out and ask her about the skull he'd found – the poor old dear would probably drop dead with shock. He would have to be very careful and take it step by step, but how?

At five past two, he was shown into the large, airy common room at Sunnyfields, the young nurse telling him, ‘That's Mrs Wallace in the chair next the rubber plant.'

He was rather disappointed at how old she looked. She was gazing out of the window; her face was very wrinkled and her skin had a transparency about it. Her hair was done up in some kind of coil at the back, but it was pure silver, with no trace of yellow. Walking past several old people who smiled vacantly at him, Ewan was very relieved when her rheumy eyes turned on him with a normal curiosity. ‘Hello, Mrs Wallace,' he said brightly. ‘May I talk to you for a while?'

‘Sit down here beside me.' Mysie patted the empty chair next to her. ‘I don't remember who you are, but my memory's not as good as it used to be.'

‘You don't know me,' he assured her. ‘My name is Ewan Duncan and I'm your son's grandson.'

Mysie's hand went to her chest, but her voice didn't waver. ‘Sandy's grandson? My goodness, what a surprise.'

‘My father's name is Sam, and he was born in …'

‘It must have been 1935. It was the year I married Gregor, that's why I remember. Is your grandmother still alive?'

‘There's nothing wrong with your memory, and yes, she is.'

‘You're very like Sandy, now that I come to think about it. You've the same hair, the same eyes – you even walk like him. I should have guessed who you were.'

He told her the same as he'd told Gina, but Mysie gave a low sardonic laugh when he said that he had bought the bungalow at Rowanbrae. ‘So the Cattanachs had to sell it?'

‘I bought it from people called McGregor, so the Cattanachs must have given it up before that.'

The old lady seemed childishly pleased. ‘Pride always goes before a fall.'

‘It's not that house I'm interested in, though, it's the croft that was there before. Can you tell me anything about that? Why was it abandoned? Was there a fire?'

Mysie nodded. ‘Aye, that's right, there was a fire.'

‘I guessed it must be that. How did it start?'

‘We thought it was a bit of peat that fell on the rug.'

Her sudden wariness made him wonder if she had a reason for not wanting to talk about it. ‘Was anyone inside at the time? Was anyone … hurt?'

‘There was just Sandy and me there, and we both got out.'

He wasn't progressing very quickly, Ewan thought. Maybe he shouldn't have come? How could this old lady tell him what he wanted to know? Still, now that he was here, he'd better keep on. ‘Did anybody you knew ever disappear? I mean, disappear and never turn up again?' Noticing that she looked more wary than ever, he was sure there was a mystery of some kind to be uncovered. He was on the right track, if only she would come clean and tell him everything she knew.

‘Aye,' Mysie said, uneasily. ‘You could say that, I suppose. You see, Sandy's father walked out on us, and nobody ever knew what happened to him.'

This was more like it, and Ewan jumped in with both feet. ‘I could probably help you there. I'm having an extension built at the back of the house – a sort of utility room, you know – and the garage had to come down – it was a ramshackle wooden thing, anyway. I got the loan of a drill to break up the old cement floor first, and I nearly fell in a heap when I came across a skull.' He stopped, watching his great-grandmother closely for signs of distress.

Mysie, however, was made of stronger stuff, and not a flicker of her inner turmoil appeared on her face as she wrestled with her conscience for a few minutes before saying softly, ‘Well, well! So it was my own great-grandson that dug him up, after all these years. That's irony for you.'

Ewan was thunderstruck. Surely it couldn't have been this frail creature who had murdered …? ‘I'm sorry, I shouldn't have told you about it.'

‘No, lad, I'm pleased you did.' Mysie cast a quick glance round the room, where several visitors were now talking to the other residents of the home. ‘I'd like to tell you the whole story, get it off my chest, but not here, not when there's so many old wives with nothing to do but listen to other folk's conversations. You'd better help me to my own room.'

Gripping her elbow as she got her walking stick ready and rose shakily to her feet, Ewan felt himself trembling. Gina had said that she was the skeleton in the family cupboard, but her mother was about to tell him about a real skeleton, or all that remained of it.

When they entered her room, Mysie thumped into a seat with a sigh. ‘It's a relief to me that it was you that found him, but it'll be hard for you to believe what I'm going to tell you.'

She waited until he drew over a chair and sat down beside her. ‘You said you were interested in your family history, so I'll start at the beginning, when I met Jeems Duncan first.'

While the story unfolded, Ewan wished that he had thought of taking a tape recorder with him – nobody would ever believe it if he told them this. Mysie, reliving the past, reverted to the dialect she had spoken then and kept nothing back, remarking, when she told him about the meal and ale, ‘An' that was the nicht I fell in love wi' Doddie Wilson. He was a good, decent man, an' I've aye regretted thinkin' it was him that killed Jeems. But I'm gettin' ahead o' my story.'

She talked candidly about what had caused the quarrel with her husband and what he had done in his temper. ‘I was near sure it wasna me that used that second knife, an' Doddie was the only other person I could think on. Weel, I found oot, years after, that it wasna me … or Doddie.' Her eyes, which had been on her hands all the time she was speaking, lifted and focused on Ewan. ‘But I'd best nae tell you who it was, nae yet. I'll wait till I come to the time I learned mysel', for a lot happened in between.'

‘Whatever you think,' he murmured, astounded that any woman could have come through so much. ‘But I don't want you to tire yourself out. I could come back another day to hear the rest.'

‘No, you'd best let me finish as lang as I'm into the swing o' it. There's nae that much left to tell.'

In spite of this assurance, the soft voice carried on for a further twenty minutes, detailing all the events right up to her leaving Burnlea, the dialect disappearing as she related what had happened to her after she came to Aberdeen as housekeeper to Miss Wallace. When Ewan learned the reason for his grandfather's quarrel with her, he understood why his family had never had any contact with her, but could not associate Libby, the common tart she had just described, with Beth, the grandmother he loved. She had certainly changed.

‘When Gina found out she was illegitimate,' Mysie continued, ‘she was so shocked she walked out, and Sandy left the house for good just minutes after her. That was when I agreed to marry Gregor, and it was him that helped me get over it. And I don't know what I'd have done without him when I saw Sandy's death in the paper in 1942. I was demented, and wished with all my heart that he had come to see me before he went off to the war. Then his letter came. I was only to get it if he was killed, so his officer gave it to a pilot to post in England. I still have it in my handbag there …' She stopped abruptly, then sighed. ‘I think you'd better read it for yourself.'