Cauldstane (17 page)

‘How did she take the
news?’

‘Surprisingly well. I was braced
for histrionics, but after the initial shock, she was very calm, very grown-up about it. She insisted we remain friends – she said she still wanted to see Liz and the boys – so I could hardly refuse, especially as she’d been so understanding about ending the relationship.’

‘So
that’s why Meredith was still around when Liz died.’

‘
She and Pam and her husband were staying the weekend. There was some young man in tow, I forget his name now, but we assumed he was Meredith’s latest paramour. The idea was, the men would go fishing with the boys while the girls went riding. We used to keep a few horses in those days because Liz liked to ride and wanted the boys to learn. But I had to sell them after she died. Neither of the boys would go near a horse – which was understandable – and we couldn’t afford them anyway.’

‘But after Liz died… you got back together with Meredith?’

‘No, not immediately. She came to the funeral and was very sweet. We kept in touch. Pam was very upset by Liz’s death and Meredith spent time with her, so I saw her socially. She just seemed to pop up all over the place. And it seemed natural, I suppose, to pick up where we’d left off. But this time she put her foot down about marriage. I thought she intended to give up her career to help run the estate and look after the boys in the holidays. In fact, I still think she
did
agree to all that, but later we rowed like hell about it and she claimed I’d misunderstood. I let her have her way, but I was very disappointed. I knew then that the marriage had been a mistake. So did Meredith when she realised she hadn’t married money.’

‘T
hat was important to her?’

‘Good God, yes! She’d thought because I spent money on her when she was my mistress that there was a lot of money to spend. She underestimated my stupidity, you see,’ Shol
to said ruefully. ‘I’d never enlightened her about the family finances. Didn’t think it would make much sense to a girl like Meredith. And in any case, you only had to
look
at Cauldstane to see it was a money pit. But she’d jumped to conclusions. She thought if the boys were at Gordonstoun and we lived in a castle, we must be loaded. Ha!’ Sholto shook his head. ‘Meredith liked to think she was a woman of the world, but she was actually quite naïve. Not stupid though. She was a clever girl in many ways. You might almost say
scheming
. But naïve. Lived in a world of her own. And she was the centre of her universe. But that universe shrank when she came to live here and it shrank again when the offers of work dried up. She put it down to living in the sticks, but I think there was more to it than that. I don’t think her singing career had really got established. She had a meteoric few years when she was on the cover of all the music magazines. She was very good at publicity, I’ll say that for her. Every inch the
diva
! But critics said she pushed her voice too soon, sang parts that were too demanding for her technically. The general opinion seemed to be, she’d peaked while still young, so it was a decline almost as rapid as her ascent. She was very bitter about that and blamed me, blamed the marriage. And she
hated
Cauldstane. With a passion! She said she’d die of boredom living here, so she used to disappear every so often. Sometimes to London for auditions or work. Well, that’s what she said. I didn’t ask questions. I could see how unhappy the poor girl was. I just begged her to be discreet. Which she
wasn’t
.’

Sholto
fell silent, but I said nothing. I knew he would resume his painful narrative when he was ready. We sat listening to the rain tapping at the window until he heaved a huge sigh, re-arranged his gangling limbs and said, ‘What I have to say now, Jenny, is strictly off the record.’ I switched off the tape recorder. ‘If Meredith hadn’t died, I would have had to divorce her. I was very sorry when she was killed and completely horrified by the circumstances of her death, but the fact is, the marriage had been over for some time. There were faults on both sides, undoubtedly, and I should have made our financial situation clearer, but by the time of her death, Meredith had become a pernicious influence on this family. I’m not prepared to go into any details. Suffice to say, she’d made herself generally unpopular and was running up bills like nobody’s business. But certain information had come to light about her erratic sexual behaviour that had convinced me divorce, though expensive, was my only option. She died before I could discuss it with her.’ Looking exhausted now, Sholto hung his head and said, ‘I’m glad she was spared the ignominy of divorce. The papers would have had a field day.’

When it seemed clear he
wasn’t going to say any more, I prompted Sholto gently. ‘You told me she drove off after a row with Alec.’

‘T
hat’s correct.’

‘Do you want to talk about that? Or perhaps I should say, do you want that information to go into the book?’

‘No, I don’t. Alec was in no way responsible for Meredith’s death. She died because she’d been drinking heavily. Meredith being drunk was not an unusual occurrence – certainly not one for which Alec could be blamed. I’m prepared to talk about my marriages in the book, but all I’m prepared to say about Meredith’s death is what appeared in the papers. She was killed in a terrible crash, she was driving and no other vehicles were involved. And that,’ said Sholto with some finality, ‘was the end of the whole sorry, sordid tale.’

I looked up from my notepad, startled by a distant sound.

Sholto gazed at me, puzzled. ‘Is something wrong, Jenny? Did I say something that offended you? Perhaps I’ve been a little
too
frank—’

‘No
, no, it’s not that. It’s just— Can you
hear
anything?

He
cocked his head to one side. ‘Just the rain. But my hearing isn’t what it used to be. Zelda’s always telling me I should get a hearing aid.’

‘You can’t hear
music?’

‘No. Why, can you?’

‘I’m not sure… I thought I heard music playing.’

‘That’ll be Wilma in the kitchen. She always has the radio on. You must have sharp ears if you can hear that.’

‘Yes, I suppose so.’ I smiled, acknowledging the compliment, even though I hadn’t merited it. The noise I could hear – and heard intermittently throughout the rest of my interview with Sholto – was the sound of the harpsichord.

Meredith was letting me know that her sorry, sordid tale was far from ended.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The rain continued to fall and Sholto’s mood remained subdued until Wilma brought us coffee. His face lit up when she entered. I sensed he not only welcomed the interruption, he found the predictable Cauldstane routines comforting. For that matter, so did I, especially after last night’s revelations. Wilma was as solid and reliable as her home baking. (Today’s treat was the splendidly named Ecclefechan Tarts.) As I watched her pour coffee, it struck me Wilma Guthrie and Meredith MacNab were polar opposites. Wilma’s life had consisted of loyal service to just one family. Meredith’s life appeared to have been entirely self-serving. Wilma was plain, pleasant but unmemorable, save perhaps for her trainers. Meredith had been charismatic, beautiful in her youth and, to judge from photos, she’d retained a blowsy glamour as she aged. There had been many men in Meredith’s life. Had Wilma loved and lost a Mr Guthrie? She wore no ring. Was the title “Mrs” an honorary one, in the tradition of country housekeepers?

I made a
note on my pad to ask Zelda whether Wilma was widowed or divorced. It wasn’t something I felt I could ask Wilma herself. I could hardly claim she’d feature in Sholto’s book. And that seemed unfair. Wilma had been the one to console Alec when his mother died. Meredith had evidently counted on Wilma’s support and unstinting hard work for her musical soirées. Liz had entrusted the care of her boys to Wilma and I thought it unlikely Sholto could function without her. Wilma had been the backbone of Cauldstane, even though she wasn’t a MacNab. I would have liked to honour her contribution in Sholto’s book, but what we included or omitted was his decision.

So
I thanked Wilma for the coffee and helped myself to a tart, knowing no other way to express my appreciation. I was rewarded with a shy smile, then she scuttled silently from the room. As the door closed, I attempted to pick up the threads of my conversation with Sholto.

‘I
f you can bear it, I’d like to hear your account of Liz’s accident. I also need you to tell me how you want me to deal with it. I understand that you want to downplay Meredith’s death and I think we can easily do that because her death, though very sudden, didn’t have far-reaching consequences for the family...’

I paused and considered what I’d just said. It was completely untrue.
The woman had been dead twelve years and was still wreaking havoc. Alec’s life was still not his own. But there was no way I could handle Meredith’s death other than from Sholto’s point of view. As far as he knew, her death had been the end of her “pernicious influence” on the MacNabs, whereas Liz’s death had led to all sorts of changes: the sale of the horses, Wilma’s promotion to housekeeper, Zelda’s return from France and a lifetime of guilt for Alec. It seemed clear Liz had been the love of Sholto’s life, even if he had treated her badly, so I was convinced his book should accord her life some importance, likewise her death. Meredith on the other hand could – and should – be sidelined.

As Sholto fidgeted in his chair, I could tell his discomfort wasn’t just physical.
‘You’ll have to help me out here, Jenny. I want Liz to feature in the book – it’s no less than her due – but I don’t want to give any credence to the idea that Alec was in some way responsible for the accident that killed her. We don’t really know what happened. He was the only witness and by all accounts, he was completely distraught. Incoherent with grief.’

‘You say, “by all accounts”. Can you talk me through what you
do
know and how you know it?’ When he hesitated, I added, ‘This is your book, Sholto. Your version of the accident is the one I want and that should avoid pointing the finger of blame at Alec.’

‘Well, I was the last on the scene
. All I saw was absolute mayhem.’

‘Who
else was there?’

‘Alec.
Fergus. Meredith. Wilma. Meredith’s young man. Pam and her husband… There was a crowd of them, all milling around. I didn’t even see Liz lying on the ground, not for a while. I was trying to deal with Alec, who was wailing like a banshee.’

‘You
said you were the last to arrive.’

‘I’m afraid I was.’

‘Who was the first, do you know?’

‘Meredith. She’d been in the stable seeing to her horse and when she heard all the commotion, she came out to see what had happened.’

‘Commotion? What had she heard?’

Sholto
looked down at the carpet and struggled to order his thoughts. ‘Alec on his bike… The horse rearing… Clattering hooves on the cobblestones… Liz’s scream and then the fall… Meredith said she heard all of that, but didn’t see any of it. It must have happened so quickly.’

‘
Liz was thrown because the horse reared? Did something startle it?’

Sholto gave me a stern look. ‘This isn’t going into the book
, Jenny. I don’t care if you make something up or just leave things vague, but Alec is not to be mentioned.’

‘Of course. But it might be easier for me to write an incomplete account if I know what actually happened.
That is, if you wouldn’t mind telling me. I imagine you don’t want me to ask Alec.’

‘Definitely not! Very well then… Liz died on Alec’s birthday.’ I looked up
, aghast. ‘Yes, I know. The whole thing was quite appalling for him…. He’d been given a new bike and Zelda – who knew about the bike – had sent him one of those klaxon horns from France. You squeeze them and they make a terrible racket, like a high-pitched donkey. You know the sort of thing I mean?’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Alec was delighted with it. But that horn caused the accident. Liz was probably mounting her horse – not the most docile of mares – when Alec cycled through the archway and into the courtyard, sounding his horn. The unfamiliar noise startled the mare and she must have reared up, throwing Liz to the ground. She can’t have been secure in the saddle, that’s why I think she might have been trying to mount at that particular moment. Anyway, the fall broke her neck, her arm and her collarbone.’ Sholto paused and took a mouthful of what must by now have been cold coffee, then resumed. ‘The frightened horse galloped off. It was a miracle Alec wasn’t trampled underfoot, but he did fall off his bike. Meredith said, when she ran out to see what had happened, Alec and Liz were both lying on the ground. Alec was crying, so she knew there couldn’t be too much wrong with him, so she went to see to Liz. She knew at once she was dead because of the angle of her head. So then she ran back to Alec and asked him what had happened. He told her the horse had reared when he tooted his horn and Liz had been thrown. She said the poor lad was completely beside himself, sobbing and screaming. That was certainly still the case when I arrived on the scene, but by then Wilma had taken charge of him. She asked if she could take him inside and Meredith said he should be spared any more questions as it was pretty clear what had happened.’

Sholto exhaled and leaned back in his chair, loo
king pale. ‘So you see, it was just a tragic accident. A most unfortunate sequence of events. But Alec has always blamed himself for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I tried to tell him, time and again, that riding is a very dangerous sport. Liz could have had a fatal fall jumping a hedge! But he didn’t see it like that. Still doesn’t. If you want my opinion, Alec was so traumatized by what he saw that day, he’s never been able to think straight about it.’

I could see Sholto was upset and decided he’d had enough
. I closed my notebook and said, ‘We should stop there, Sholto. This has been really helpful for me, but gruelling for you. It must be upsetting having to go over all these painful events, but I do appreciate your frankness. It makes my job so much easier.’

‘
I do feel rather tired, I’m afraid.’

‘
Perhaps we should have called a halt earlier. I’m sorry, you must say if you—’

‘Oh, it’s not just the interview.
I’ve not been sleeping well lately. I’ve never been one for nightmares or even dreams. A total lack of imagination is an essential qualification in my line of work. You couldn’t get to sleep on creaking Antarctic ice if you lay there thinking what would happen if it opened up beneath you! But I’ve been troubled by dreams lately… They disturb my nights and I find it hard to get back to sleep.’

‘What do you dream about?’

‘Well, that’s just it. I dream about
Meredith
! Now why should that be? Until you arrived, I barely gave her a thought. Perhaps that’s a shameful admission, but she died a long time ago. In fact I think of Liz far more often than Meredith, even though I was married to Meredith for much longer. I really loved her. Liz, I mean. Didn’t deserve her…’ Sholto’s eyes were now filmed with tears. He swallowed and said, ‘So it seems odd that I should dream about Meredith.’

I stood up and laid a hand on his shoulder. ‘I think you should rest now
. What about a nap before lunch? You’ve worked hard this morning.’

‘You’re sure you’ve got enough material? Because I don’t think I’d want to re-visit—’

‘Of course. If I have any further queries, I’ll ask Zelda. What would you like to talk about tomorrow? One of your adventures? What about that time you found yourself adrift on an ice floe? I’m dying to hear about that.’

His face brightened.
‘Oh, yes, that
was
interesting. The ice was breaking up beneath us and it was a mad scramble to get our tent and supplies off the detached floe and back on to
terra firma
. Fortunately when I was at Eton, I excelled at the long jump. But it was a close run thing. I don’t mind admitting, I thought my number was up.’

Sholto
was chuckling now, so I packed away my things, relieved to see him in better spirits. ‘Same time tomorrow then? And we’ll talk about your hair-raising adventures in the Antarctic.’

‘
Thank you, Jenny. I look forward to it.’

‘So do I.’

I’d got as far as the door and as I opened it, I turned to check on Sholto, still concerned our session might have taken too much out of him. He sat slumped in his chair again and was gazing round the room, his eyes darting back and forth.

‘What is it, Sholto? Are you all right?’ He didn’t answer, so I took a few steps
back into the room and said, ‘Would you like me to stay with you for a while? Or should I fetch Wilma?’

‘No
... No, thanks, Jenny. I’ll be fine. It’s just that… You know it’s the damnedest thing, but sometimes I could
swear
Meredith is actually in the room.’ He looked directly at me then and smiled faintly. ‘Sometimes I think I can smell her perfume. Isn’t that ridiculous?’

My first response was one of blind anger, that Mered
ith should haunt this old man and disturb his sleep, but thinking fast, I decided the best plan was to respond with comforting clichés. Sholto needed reassurance, so I said, ‘The mind can play some funny tricks. I’m sure working on the book has stirred up a host of memories – many of them very painful for you. I expect your subconscious mind is disturbed. That’s probably why you’re sleeping badly and… imagining things,’ I added, embarrassed by my lie.

‘Oh, yes, very likely.
Shackleton’s fourth man.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘It’s an experience many people have had. Mountaineers. Polar explorers. Astronauts. Survivors of 9/11.’

‘What is it?’

‘The sense that someone else is present. A presence, encouraging you to make strenuous efforts to survive. Shackleton sensed it in Antarctica when he made that desperate trek across South Georgia. They all did. All three men thought there was a fourth. I’ve experienced that on expeditions, when I’ve been at death’s door. But that was different. I couldn’t identify the stranger, I was just aware of a benevolent presence, insisting I shouldn’t give up.’

‘So are you saying you feel as if there
’s someone else in the room
now
?’

‘Yes. And somehow I know – or rather
, I believe – that the third is Meredith. And I don’t think she’s feeling very benevolent. So very odd.’ He looked around the room again. ‘You don’t sense anything?’

‘No.
Not in here.’

I
t wasn’t a lie. It wasn’t the whole truth either. But in that split second I had to make a decision, whether or not to confide in Sholto. I decided I should spare him. I had no reason to think he was in any danger and there was nothing I could do to protect him anyway. But I’d have to tell Alec.

I took my leave
with a heavy heart.

~

I went downstairs and headed for my room, but before I got there I heard the distinctive creak of my door opening. I stepped back, still jumpy after my conversation with Sholto. I was relieved to see Alec emerge, holding a dustpan and brush. As he turned to close my door, I walked forward, calling his name softly.

He looked up and smiled as I approached. ‘The deed
’s done. You’ll not find a piece of china anywhere. Nor will Wilma when she does her rounds.’

‘She’s late today, isn’t she?’

‘I gave her the task of cleaning the Augean stables.’