Cauldstane (13 page)

The laptop had gone to sleep
, so I leaned forward, got the page back up again and pointed to my indignant outburst. ‘That’s me… I was responding to the random hat pin message. Then as I watched, the laptop wrote
that
.’ I pointed to the final words on the screen.

And I only want the worst.

As he read the words, I watched Alec’s chest rise and fall in a great sigh – but not of sadness. Irritation perhaps? Anger, even?

‘What’s going on, Alec? How can anyone be writing to me on my laptop? And why wo
uld anyone write anything so awful?’

He turned to me
, laid his free hand on my shoulder and fixed me with a look. I’d never noticed before but the irises of his grey eyes were ringed with a much darker colour and there were golden flecks around his pupils, like sparks. I drew strength from those dark, determined eyes, long before I realised how much I was going to need it.

‘Jenny,
I need to ask you to trust me, because what I’m going to say will almost certainly make you think I’m the one who’s mad.’

‘
Oh, don’t worry about that. I’d be glad of the company, frankly. I think I’m going completely round the bend.’

His free hand flew up to my face and he stroked my cheek
. ‘D’you believe in ghosts, Jenny?’

‘
Ghost
s
?
No, I don’t think so.’ It took a moment for his words to sink in. ‘Are you saying Cauldstane is haunted?
Really
haunted?’ Alec nodded. ‘And you think… it’s a
ghost
leaving messages for me? Good God! Why
me
? I’m not even a MacNab!’

‘And she wants to keep it that way,’ Alec mu
rmured as he glanced round the room, his sword still raised. ‘She’s trying to intimidate you because she wants you to leave Cauldstane. And it means you have to go, Jenny. For your own safety.’

‘
I couldn’t possibly walk out on Sholto! It would break his heart. In any case, I have a job to do here. I have a contract and my professional reputation to consider. I know I was behaving like a total wimp just now, but it was shock. I really don’t scare so easily. It’s just messages on a laptop! Spooky, but just a form of cyber-bullying.’

Alec shook his head. ‘It’s more than that
. I believe you could be in danger.’

‘Don’t be ridiculous!
Even if there is some sort of poltergeist, I’m not in any
danger
. Danger of losing the plot, possibly, but if we can just work out how someone’s leaving messages on my laptop, I’ll be fine. Perhaps it’s Wilma. She’s very protective of the family. Maybe she resents my presence here.’

‘Someone does, but it isn’t Wilma.’

As I stared at the laptop, a new idea struck me. ‘Do you think someone could have hacked into my account and be doing it remotely?’

‘Aye
, it’s being done remotely – but not in the way you mean.’ He handed me the sword. ‘Hold that. Just take hold of it, like I showed you with the claymore. That’s right. You’ll be OK.’

‘Alec, what on earth—’

He turned away and spread his hands. ‘Show yourself, God damn you!’

For a
stunned moment, I thought Alec was addressing me, then I realised he was talking to the spirit he believed was meddling with my laptop. Needless to say, nothing happened. My arms began to ache from holding the sword and I was shivering again. The room seemed freezing even though it was still only September.

Frightened I was going to drop it, I
lowered the sword until its point rested on the floor. ‘Alec, I’m really tired. Can we discuss this in the morning? I don’t believe in ghosts and nothing is going to make me believe in them. I’m sure there’s some sort of technical explanation—’

He
laid his fingers on my lips and took the sword. Looking into my eyes, he said, ‘Trust me.’ Then he took his hand away from my mouth, cupped the back of my head and kissed me. Deeply. Passionately. And I responded. Because I’d been wanting to do that for days.

The harpsichord started up again
, but this time it wasn’t just in my head, it filled the room, getting louder and louder, until I thought my ears would burst. Alec was still looking at me, shouting something I couldn’t hear when, over his shoulder, I saw first one, then the other Staffordshire china dog leave the chest of drawers and hurtle through the air, making for his head. As I yelled a warning, he turned, raised his sword and dashed both figurines to the floor, where they shattered. I stepped back, terrified, but Alec grabbed hold of me and bellowed over the music, ‘
Now
d’you believe me?’ His eyes were alight. He seemed almost exultant.

Then t
he forgotten hat pin on my desk leaped into the air and came flying straight for my face, but Alec saw it and swiped it away with a flick of his sword arm. It bounced off the wall and fell to the floor, joining the shards of pottery. The music stopped as suddenly as it had started and left my ears ringing. Alec stood poised and alert, his eyes moving quickly back and forth, scanning the room for the source of the next attack. But I saw it first.

‘
Look
…’ I pointed to the laptop screen which was growing dark with text. Letters were appearing at an impossible rate, filling the screen with a silent tirade.

I clutched at Alec
. ‘In God’s name, who
is
it?’

His mouth was set in a grim line as he watched the screen,
the text scrolling now at a demented speed. Then, in a voice so deep, so angry, I hardly recognised it as his, Alec said, ‘Jenny, allow me to introduce you to the ghost of my dear departed step-mother… Meredith MacNab.’

PART TWO

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

That’s not even my real name. My public knew me – and loved me – as Meredith Fitzgerald. It always irritated me when the Highland peasantry referred to me as “Mrs MacNab”.

Meredith
Fitzgerald wasn’t my real name either. (Even Sholto doesn’t know that. But there’s rather a lot Sholto doesn’t know.) I was born “Moira”, a name that never seemed quite in keeping with my musical aspirations, so when I left college I promoted myself to “Meredith Fitzgerald”. I thought that had a musical ring to it. A certain “
je ne sais quoi
”.

I was a high flye
r, you see. A meteor in the musical world. That’s what the Telegraph critic said. I developed early and I was ferociously ambitious. I don’t mind admitting I was ruthless at times. But mine was an exceptional talent. The world was a brighter place when I sang. Fans wrote to me and said so. They waited at the stage door with gifts: flowers and chocolates (too many chocolates!), sometimes small pieces of jewellery. I brightened up their dull little lives and they wanted to show their appreciation. It was so sweet.

I used to command enormous fees. Oh, yes, I earned a lot of money, but
I’ve no idea where it went. It just seemed to disappear. I had expenses, of course – hair, clothes, shoes. One had to be well groomed and it was necessary to be seen in the right places after a performance. It all added up – the money and the calories.

Of course
I could have done much better for myself than Sholto MacNab.
Much
better. I had offers, believe me. But he was such a handsome man. So brave. A real-life hero. And he was besotted with me. That made him irresistible. I do believe he actually loved his dowdy wife, but he still couldn’t keep his hands off me. He was quite reckless. I loved that. It was something we had in common: a love of risk.

I never
knew if he would return from one of his dangerous expeditions. That was thrilling too. Quite an aphrodisiac. Even before we were married I sometimes used to think about what I would wear at Sholto’s funeral. Something chic but severe, like Jackie Kennedy. Definitely veiled.

It was
all very exciting to begin with, then things settled down into a sort of clandestine routine. Sholto had everything he wanted: his loyal, boring wife stuck at home, breeding sons, and his glamorous young mistress providing entertainment and sophistication in London or Edinburgh, or wherever I happened to be performing. (We once enjoyed a night of passion in Perth of all places.)

Then Torquil
finally died and Sholto became quite a different proposition. I must confess, I didn’t realise then that “laird” wasn’t a proper title, like Duke or Earl and I didn’t know it was possible to own a castle and God knows how many acres and still be hard up. “Asset-rich, cash-poor” was an expression that meant little to me then. My fans gave me jewellery. When I needed money, I sold it. Or I asked Sholto.

I can’t claim I knew anything about money other than how to spend it. I concentrated on my career and allowed Sholto to manage my finan
ces – by which I mean, I let him pick up the tab, which in the early years he was happy to do. He was so understanding. Until we married. Then things changed.

He never said so
, but I knew he missed Liz. What there was to miss about that woman, I had no idea, but Sholto was clearly out of his depth trying to manage the boys. He wanted me to be a mother to those two tearaways and seemed to expect me to devote every waking hour to maintaining the ruin that was Cauldstane, as if I was some sort of housewife.

There was
clearly only one thing to be done with Cauldstane Castle and that was sell it.

Never
was a place more aptly named! They say “cold as the grave”, but trust me, Cauldstane in January when the wind is in the east, is worse. I’ve never known cold like it. Even at the height of summer that place was never really warm. The cold and damp used to seep through the stone floors and walls until it had crept into your very bones. Some days I just didn’t bother to get up, it was so cold. I stayed in bed and got Wilma to bring me all my meals on a tray.

She was a sweetheart
. Nothing was too much trouble. Even though she didn’t have a clue about music, she showed me the respect that was my due as an artist and mistress of Cauldstane. There was never a speck of dust on any of my photographs or certificates and I think dear Wilma was more thrilled with my portrait than Sholto! She would have done anything for me. She used to stand in the music room occasionally and listen to me play the harpsichord. The music went right over her head of course, but she loved to watch me. I could understand that. I had beautiful hands. I used to look at them while I played and marvel at how lovely they looked, sparkling with rings.

I brought a little colour
– and yes, magic! – into Wilma’s humdrum life. Into so many lives. I really deserved better than the shabby treatment I got from Sholto. When I asked him to divorce Liz and marry me, he wouldn’t hear of it. The selfish bastard liked having his cake and eating it. Well, I wasn’t going to stand for that. I could have had my pick of any number of eligible young bachelors – not to mention the moneyed old men. So I delivered my ultimatum.

Do you know what
he said? Sholto had the bloody nerve to tell me, he believed in marriage; that he found fidelity very difficult, but for him marriage was “till death us do part”. I’d never heard anything so pathetic! Since he was sleeping with me at every available opportunity, the old hypocrite got what he deserved.

Liz died.

And that was that.

After Liz died, I had to be circumspect. I needed to make myself indispensable to the family, but I had to keep my distance from Sholto. That was no hardship. He was a bore as a grieving widower. You’d think no one had ever lost a wife before. He was the same about the boys – so concerned they were motherless, but since they spent half their lives at boarding school, I couldn’t see what all the fuss was about. But I did my best to be nice to them. I knew that was the way to persuade Sholto to make me a permanent fixture.

It was an uphill struggle.
Neither of the boys was interested in music and I didn’t know much about anything else. Fergus loved animals and was a keen rider like me, but Alec was just impossible. I suppose feeling responsible for your mother’s death would ensure you weren’t the most cheerful of children, but I do think he milked the “reclusive loner” bit, especially in his teens. I mean, everyone said, you can’t blame an eight-year old for causing someone’s death and no one ever did. Nobody even mentioned it, so I think Alec should have pulled himself together and got on with his life. I mean, it was a great shame, but it just couldn’t be helped. Riding is a dangerous sport and horses are unpredictable. Liz wasn’t the most expert of riders and her mare was temperamental. That’s what I said to Sholto – to anyone who’d listen, in fact. “Accidents happen.”

Especially to the MacNabs.

I
rubbed my eyes and looked away from the laptop. I felt numb. I couldn’t believe what had happened, but I had to. It was as if my brain had taken a running jump at a brick wall and knocked itself out. Except that there was a tiny part of my mind that was relieved I wasn’t going mad. It was only a ghost.
Only
.

Alec
was sitting on the edge of the bed, his shoulders bowed. He was staring down at the sword resting across his pyjama-clad thighs. I don’t know when I’ve seen anyone look so exhausted. Or defeated. He must have sensed my gaze because he looked up and I saw dark shadows under his eyes. I realised it must be very late, but there was no possibility of sleep tonight. Not for me.

He
gestured towards my laptop. ‘Looks like you’ll be up till dawn if you read it all. Meredith obviously needed to get a lot off her chest.’

‘You don’t
have to stay, Alec.’

‘I’d like to
. If you don’t mind,’ he added politely. The incongruity of this exchange made me want to laugh hysterically. It was 2.00 a.m and the heir to Cauldstane was sitting on my bed in his pyjamas, keeping watch with a sword, while I read a ghost’s crazed autobiography. This wasn’t what Rupert had meant when he suggested I take up a less demanding career than writing fiction.

I
managed to summon up a small smile for Alec. ‘Meredith stopped throwing things ages ago. I’ll be OK. I’m doing what she wants, aren’t I? Reading all this.’

‘I’d
prefer to stay. I’ve taken precautions, but I don’t know what power she has over other folk. I only know what she can do to me.’

‘What do you mean – precautions?’

‘There’s a blade under your mattress... A Bible on the book shelf. And this...’ He picked up a small carved wooden animal that had been placed on the bedside table. I’d thought it was an otter, but Wilma had told me it was a pine marten. Alec had carved it as a gift for Coral. ‘It’s made of rowan wood,’ he explained, as if the words would mean something to me. ‘But evidently Meredith can still get into the room.’

I swivelled
round on my chair. ‘Are you saying you put a
sword
under my mattress? In Heaven’s name,
why
?’

‘A steel blade is a traditional Highland talisman against evil. It’s a time-honoured custom to take an oath upon cold iron or steel
. A dirk, or
sgian dubh
was always handy for that purpose.’ He shrugged. ‘Some folk believe luck is associated with a horseshoe because it’s a piece of iron that can be placed conveniently over a threshold.’

I remembered arriving at Cauldstane with Fergus.
‘There’s one at the castle’s back door, isn’t there?’

‘
I put it there. And I make sure it stays there.’

‘And the rowan wood?’

‘Another traditional talisman. A rowan tree would be planted in front of a house to keep evil spirits from the door.’

‘
Oh… Sholto told me his walking stick was made of rowan.’

‘
I made that too.’

I was beginning to
grasp the scale of the problem and the pressure Alec lived under. ‘Does Sholto know?’

‘About
Meredith? I doubt it. He’s never said anything. But then he wouldn’t.’

‘B
ut… you think Coral knew?’ I saw him hesitate and said, ‘You don’t have to answer, Alec. I don’t want to stir up any bad memories for you.’

‘
I think it best you know what happened, Jenny. If you’re to understand what’s happening now.’ He looked at the laptop screen, then back at me. ‘Would you come and sit on the bed? I think you’d be safer. I’ll sit on one of the chairs.’

‘No, I’d li
ke you close at hand, if you don’t mind. Get under the duvet – you must be freezing! You didn’t even put any slippers on.’ Alec turned back the bedclothes and, still grasping the sword, slid into bed, taking up a position as close to the edge as he could without actually falling out. I wasn’t sure if this was out of consideration for me, or so he’d be ready for action. I stood up, cinched his dressing gown firmly round my waist, then climbed in on the other side. We sat there like bookends, facing the laptop, saying nothing. I felt a wave of terror begin to rise again, but I was determined not to give in to it, so I took a deep breath and said, ‘Know any good bedtime stories?’

‘Aye
. This one’s a cracker.’ Alec laid the sword down in the space between us, the blade pointing to the foot of the bed, then he clasped his hands loosely in his lap and said, ‘After Meredith died, Coral said she heard music. The harpsichord.’

‘I’ve heard it too.’

His head turned sharply. ‘You have?’

‘A couple of times. I
assumed it was a radio. But somehow I knew it wasn’t. That’s when I started to think that I… that I might be losing it again.’

‘Aye, that’s how it was with Coral… Then
odd things started to happen. She had a few accidents. Nothing serious. And wee bits and bobs would disappear, then reappear. Nothing of any value, but she found it unsettling. It was bad enough living with the famous Cauldstane curse, but this was something different. At first Coral thought she was just imagining things, but eventually she thought she was ill. So did other members of the family.’

‘
Did you know it was Meredith?’

‘
Not then. It took me a long time to put two and two together. The MacNabs being accident prone wasn’t exactly a new concept. And anyway, stuff like that can become a self-fulfilling prophecy if you believe in it. Things happened after Meredith died, but since Meredith was
dead
, I didn’t think anything of it. Not to begin with.’ He searched my face and must have seen my confusion. ‘I’m sorry, I’m not explaining this very well… Jenny, you need to understand that Meredith and I… we have a history.’

‘History?’

‘Aye.’ He paused, then, as if it cost him some effort, he said, ‘At some point Meredith transferred her affections from Sholto to me. I was quite young. I didn’t understand what was going on. Then when I
did
understand, I didn’t know what to do.’