Cauldstane (24 page)

‘Don’t be too hard on Mr Alec. He’s been through so much.
When you nearly drowned, it fair set him back. I haven’t seen him so low in years.’

‘I suppose it
reminded him of losing his wife.’

‘There’s been so much trag
edy. And it began when he was so young.’ Wilma shook her head. ‘What can you say to comfort a motherless child?’

‘I bet you though
t of something.’

‘Oh aye, I said my piece
. I think it helped a little. Not at the time. But later.’

‘What did you say? Can you remember?’

Wilma paused, then leaned back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap. ‘I said someone isn’t dead – not
truly
dead – until the last person has had the last kind thought about them. That’s what I told the boys when their mother died. I said she would be preserved in their memories. That’s why it’s so important not to speak ill of the dead. If we do, they die again. In our hearts. If we remember the good, the
best
, then our loved ones will live on and on, in our hearts and in our minds. Until finally we join them. That way, they never really leave us… That’s what I told the boys. Because that’s what I believe.’

‘I’m sure it must have helped them.’

‘Maybe.’ Wilma stood up and took our empty coffee cups over to the sink. ‘But I think we all understand why Mr Alec wants to give up Cauldstane now.’

No
, you don’t
, I thought. None of you has any idea why Alec is prepared to make this sacrifice.

Or why I’m not going to let him do it.

~

I was
typing up the notes that would form Operation Cauldstane when there was a knock on my door. It was Alec. He stood in the doorway, as if unwilling to commit himself to actually crossing the threshold. I knew it wasn’t fear of Meredith keeping him out. It was me.

‘Hi,’ I said
, treating him to a bright, artificial smile. I was pleased to see him – there were times when I
ached
to see him – but already I felt nervous about the ensuing conversation.

His eyes shifted to the laptop.
‘I’m not interrupting anything important?’

‘Well,
you
wouldn’t think so. I’m working on a business plan I want to present to Sholto. Just a few ideas, plus the results of some research I’ve been doing.’ Alec was silent and his face betrayed nothing. Ignoring this unpromising start, I continued. ‘Did you know Zelda wants to open a restaurant here? She says she can put up half the money herself, so it’s a question of finding a sleeping partner, someone who wants to go halves on a top-notch French-Scottish restaurant called
The Auld Alliance
. And I think I might know just the person.’

‘Jenny.’ Ale
c stopped me in my tracks with the single word. ‘Sholto says he’d like to see you. In the library.’

‘Now?’

‘If it’s convenient.’

‘You’ve been talking to him.’

‘For days,’ he said wearily.

‘Alec, please don’t put any more pressure on him to sell. Give me a chance to talk about the alternatives
first. Fergus and Zelda are on board. So’s Wilma. I just have to convince Sholto now.’

‘And me.’

‘Well, I can’t convince you, can I? You’re selling up to save the family from Meredith. I don’t suppose you’ve shared that piece of information, have you?’

His face was stony. ‘How can I?’

‘But I thought honesty was your policy? “Why be anything else?” Wasn’t that your line? None of the others understand why you’ve suddenly bailed out. Since you’re doing this for them, you could at least ask them if they want rescuing. They might prefer to stand up to Meredith. If they saw the whole picture, maybe they’d be prepared to try the deliverance ministry.’

‘I told you, Sholto won’t have James Kennedy in the house.’

‘Yes, and I now know why.’

Alec’s composure slipped and his eyes widened.
‘You asked him?’

‘I told Sholto
about the deliverance ministry and then he told me why he fell out with Kennedy. He’s one of Meredith’s many conquests, apparently. Quite a notch on her bedpost, that one. A minister of the Church of Scotland
and
a personal friend of Sholto’s. A double whammy. I suppose that must have compensated for not being able to pull her stepson.’ Alec’s face was dark with anger. He looked as if he might be about to throttle me, but I assumed his murderous thoughts were directed towards Meredith. ‘Alec, you surely aren’t going to let that woman win? Won’t you at least
try
to drive her out? I know a minister in England – a good man – who’ll come and do the business. He’s agreed in principle. We just have to get Sholto to say the word.’

Alec stood quite still, frowning slightly, as if he had a headache or was thinking very hard. When finally he spoke, his voice sounded
oddly detached. ‘My father’s waiting to see you. In the library.’ As he turned to go, I knew I was either about to burst into tears or be very, very angry. I chose anger.

‘How can you bear to live like this? This… this
half-life
! A man like you! This isn’t living, Alec. Tell me, when was the last time you felt no fear? No fear at all?’

I
saw him grip the doorframe and bite back a reply, then he bowed his head and stared at the floor. ‘My eighth birthday. When I came cycling into the courtyard. I felt like king of the world. Then all hell broke out. The horse
screaming
… Then my mother... The sound of the horse’s hooves, galloping past me… Sparks flying up from the cobblestones… I’ve never been so terrified, before or since.’ He lifted his head and gazed at me. ‘But seeing you in the river, being swept away…. That came pretty close.’

My anger gone now, I said gently,
‘Has it ever occurred to you that moving out might not be the end of it? How do you know Meredith won’t follow you? Or Sholto?’

‘I don’t
. But if we all go our separate ways, if I live alone, how much harm can she do? In any case, I know that woman. Once she knows she’s won, she’ll rest. It was always about conquest with Meredith.’ He shrugged. ‘Maybe if I’d slept with her, she’d have just moved on, left me in peace. I don’t know why she became obsessed with me. Because I said no?... Maybe no one had ever said no before.’

‘Sholto did. He refused to divorce Liz.
And we know Meredith wasn’t happy about that.’

‘Aye, but she got her way in the end. I was always unfinished business. I still am.’

‘And that’s why you think you have to put an end to it. By giving in. But Alec, you could have the whole family on your side. And me!
Please
don’t give up.’

He was silent for a long time and, though his face was impassive, I thought I saw a man struggl
ing with emotions that threatened to overwhelm him. Eventually, his voice barely audible, he said, ‘You’d better not keep him waiting any longer,’ then he turned away and closed the door.

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

The signs weren’
t good. Sholto was seated at his desk, suggesting the formality of our first interview, weeks ago. He was writing and barely looked up as I entered.

‘Ah, Jenny.
Thank you for coming.’

He waved me
towards a chair and I sat, preparing myself for the worst. What
was
the worst, I wondered? Cauldstane being sold and Sholto having to live out the rest of his days in a cosy bungalow? (Many would relish the prospect, but the Laird of Cauldstane had slung his hammock in jungles and pitched his tent at the foot of Everest. I doubted he dreamed of deep pile carpets.) Why then did I dread whatever Sholto was about to announce? How could I begrudge the MacNabs being released from Meredith’s ghostly grip? Even if I was prepared to take my chances, how could I expect Alec to take responsibility for endangering lives when he’d already lost loved ones?

W
hen it came, I realised what the worst thing was.
Me
having to leave Cauldstane.

My employer
replaced the cap on his fountain pen, set it down and said, cautiously, ‘I think it’s time we had a talk about the future, Jenny. You must have heard some of what’s afoot, I’m sure.’ He didn’t pause for me to answer, nor did he meet my eye. I recalled what Wilma had said about Alec having to break the bad news to her. Sholto was evidently struggling. He folded his hands in front of him, then proceeded to address them, not me. ‘It is with much regret that I’ve decided to abandon my memoirs. This is in no way a reflection on you or the work we’ve done together. My decision is a response to the changed circumstances in which I find myself.’ He raised his eyes from the desk, but only to regard the ceiling. ‘To cut a long story short, Jenny, after consultation with both my sons, I’ve decided to put Cauldstane on the market, to see if we can find a buyer.’ He risked a quick look at me. Clearly he didn’t like what he saw, for he looked away again immediately. ‘As you’re aware, my main reason for writing the book was to raise money, money that might enable us to stay on at Cauldstane. I now think that was an unrealistic goal. A pipe dream. The income from that book would have been a mere drop in the ocean of debt on which my sons and I now find ourselves adrift. As a money-spinner, my story was always rather a long shot and, I fear, something of a vanity project.’

‘
I beg to differ. There’s definitely a market for the book. If I hadn’t thought so, I wouldn’t have accepted the commission. But in my view, your biography is worth writing as a record of your life, regardless of whether it made enough money to save Cauldstane. It’s a good story, Sholto. It should be told.’

Finally
his eyes met mine. ‘You really think so?’ He looked tired and confused. I wondered how many sleepless nights he’d endured before succumbing to pressure from Alec to sell his birthright.

‘I do.
And until you actually find a buyer, we might as well continue with the book. I hope you’ll forgive me pointing out that, under the terms of our contract, you’re still obliged to pay half my fee if you sack me now. Why not finish what we started?’

‘Oh, you’ll receive your
full
fee, Jenny, no question of that. I don’t want you penalized by my sudden decision. I’d also like you to choose a little souvenir from Cauldstane, to take away as a memento of your stay with us.’

‘I’ll do nothing of the sort.
Nor will I accept my full fee. Not unless you allow me to finish writing the book.’

Sholto narrowed his eyes and fixed me with a
stern look, but he was unable to hide his amusement. ‘You know, it’s come to my attention in the last few days that some perfectly decent people are capable of blackmail.’ The corners of his mouth twitched. ‘Really, I had no idea.’

I leaned forward in my chair.
‘Sholto, I know this is all Alec’s doing and I think
you
know it’s only half the story. Fergus is ready to sell up if you fail to raise the cash to renovate Cauldstane, but he has lots of ideas – good ones – about how this place could make money. As for Alec – well, I simply don’t believe he wants to sell. Not really.’

Sholto spread his hands.
‘He says enough is enough. Cauldstane is draining us of money. Energy. Life’s blood, I fear. Alec and Fergus say we should sell and, let’s face it, the future belongs to them. They don’t need a sentimental old man getting in their way. It’s all perfectly understandable. Inevitable, in fact.’

Despite the certainty of his words,
I sensed he was weakening, so I decided to try another tack. ‘What if you don’t find a buyer?’

Hi
s face brightened a little. ‘You think no one will stump up the cash?’

‘It’s possible. A
n awful lot needs doing. I’ve heard the phrase “money pit” used more than once. I suppose if you put it on the market at a silly price, you might find a buyer, but is that really what you want to do? Give Cauldstane away?’

‘
Beggars can’t be choosers. The agent has warned us we shouldn’t be too optimistic with regard to the sum it will fetch. Alec says we must reconcile ourselves to the sale being a damage limitation exercise.’

I cursed Alec inwardly, knowing just what kind of damage he was attempting to limit.
‘Well, even if you do decide to drop the book,’ I said in desperation, ‘would you please allow me to stay on for a while to help with preparations for the sale? I wanted to talk to you about Cauldstane’s paintings. I’ve been having a rummage upstairs – I hope you don’t mind. Fergus said it would be all right – and I’ve been doing some research. I think you might have some interesting stuff up there among all the junk.’

‘Really?
I can’t say I’ve ever paid much attention to our pictures. I don’t have much of an eye for that sort of thing. More Torquil’s area of expertise.’

‘D
o you know if he ever sat for Lucian Freud?’

‘No idea. But t
hey knew each other, certainly. Torquil knew everybody. Very gregarious fellow. I believe there
was
some talk of a portrait. A nude, I believe. But I assumed that was just my brother’s idea of a joke.’

‘Apparently not. I think that might be
what you’ve got upstairs. And there are other paintings that I think could be worth something. You’ve got a lovely set of landscapes that look seventeenth-century to me. I’d be happy to get things valued for you. And if you’re selling Cauldstane, you’ll have to sell most of the contents, won’t you?’

‘
Yes, I suppose we will.’

‘And
what about all Meredith’s stuff? You wanted me to help with that, didn’t you? I think I’m the only person you can ask to dispose of those journals.’

‘That’s
very kind of you, Jenny. I do appreciate that you’re trying to help us, but… well, Alec seems very keen that you should leave. As soon as possible.’

‘W
hy?’

‘
I’m not sure, but I suspect he thinks you’ll try to persuade me to hang on. Or that you’ll try to dissuade
him
. He knows you’re not in favour of his plan to sell up. And to be fair to Alec, you
are
trying to persuade me to hang on.’

I regard
ed Sholto, wondering just how much Alec had told him. ‘Has he given any other reason for selling? Other than financial necessity, I mean?’

Sholto looked blank. ‘Why, no. What ot
her reason could there be? Our dire financial position is reason enough. It’s probably something I should have done a long time ago. But one hopes…’ He smiled, a little embarrassed. ‘And one dreams.’

‘Well, I don’t think you need
let go of your dreams just yet. There are various possibilities. Has Fergus talked to you about converting the empty estate cottages?’

‘
Converting for what purpose?’

‘Self-catering accommodation for holidaymakers. Has Zelda ever mentioned that she’d like to run a restaurant again?
Here.’

‘
Zelda?
At her time of life?’

‘I think she’d mainly manage the thing, with Wilma.
You know, Zelda could oversee the whole Cauldstane project. She obviously has the vision. And the energy.’

‘But all this would require a great deal of
capital!’

‘Of course. But if Zelda could find some
one to invest in her restaurant; if your paintings
are
worth something, if you sold the harpsichord – my preliminary research suggests it could be worth up to £100,000; if Alec took on an assistant and doubled his output; if self-catering properties provided a regular income; if you hosted weddings and conferences… Well, it could be worth asking the bank how much they’d lend you. In the long term, I think Cauldstane might be able to pay its way. So does Fergus.’ I opened up a folder I’d brought with me and handed Sholto a few sheets of paper. ‘That’s a sort of business plan I drew up. Very sketchy, but you’ll get the general idea.’

Sholto reached for his reading glasses and spread the sheets out in front of him. ‘Jenny, I’m touched.
You’ve obviously given this a great deal of thought.’

‘
So have Fergus and Zelda. Even Wilma.’ Sholto looked up, conscience-stricken. ‘She’s not ready to retire yet, Sholto. She’s game to cook till she drops.’

‘Bless that woman. You know, Jenny, I can no more think of life without Wilma than life without Cauldstane. But Alec’
s arguments are persuasive. He’s a quiet chap, slow to anger, but when he’s set his mind on something… Well, my advice is, don’t ever get into an argument with Alec. He can’t be budged.’

‘
But Cauldstane is still
yours
, Sholto. And you could live for another twenty years – and probably will! What happens to Cauldstane is ultimately
your
decision. I just wanted you to know what all the options were, if you got the whole family behind you.’

‘Yes, I do see.’

‘Shall I leave you to think about it? And perhaps discuss it with them? Alec will tell you it can’t work, but don’t take no for an answer. Ask him to explain
why
it won’t work. And… can I ask you to do something else?’

‘What, my dear?’

‘Give me another week’s grace.
Please
. Another week to interview you, so I can get all the information I need to complete the book, just in case you do decide to go ahead with it. Which I very much hope you will. If Alec wants me out, I’ll go quietly, but I can still work on the book at home. Once I’ve completed all the interviews, I can work from transcriptions in London. Then I’ll produce a draft. If you like it, we can move forward with trying to find a publisher. There would be no obligation, but if you insist on paying me my full fee, the least I can do is supply you with a draft autobiography.’

‘And is that what you want to do
, Jenny?’

‘
It’s what I really,
really
want to do. So do we have a deal?’

‘W
e do. To hell with Alec! I shall miss your company when you’ve gone and I’m damned if I know why I shouldn’t make the most of it now. Especially when there are still so many stories to tell! Some corkers, too.’ He frowned as he tried to recall. ‘Did I tell you about the time Wilma found one of my toes in the bath?’

I shrieked with horror and delight. ‘No, you did not! Your
toe
?’

‘Just one of my little toes
. Nothing vital,’ Sholto explained. ‘It was quite dead from frostbite. Came off in a hot bath once I was back home. I didn’t notice. Then Wilma found it when she was cleaning. It had been washed into the plughole. She screamed the place down when she realised what it was.’

‘Sholto, if we don’t write this book, it will be a crime.’

‘If you say so,’ he replied with a grin. ‘But I warn you, there’ll be hell to pay with Alec. He wants you to leave. So very disappointing…’ Sholto shook his head. ‘I thought you two were getting on famously.’ He shot me a sidelong glance. ‘Perhaps I was just imagining things. I do want my boys to be happy. They’ve had rather a rough deal. Losing their mother. Absentee father. And Meredith was bloody useless of course. Simply not interested in them when they were
boys
.’

He heard the emphasis he’d laid on the word
“boys” and looked nonplussed, unsure for a moment how much I knew about Meredith’s distinctly un-maternal feelings towards Alec. My face was a bland mask as I said, ‘Leave Alec to me. I might be able to talk him round. And if I can’t, the final say is yours, surely? But can we resume our routine? Provisionally, at least? Ten o’ clock tomorrow, in here? Business as usual. Until Alec boots me out.’

‘Business as usual, my dear. And I
’m really looking forward to it!’

I’d entered the library to find a sad
, old man. I left the Laird of Cauldstane in fine form, a twinkle in those roguish blue eyes. If his future was uncertain, his past was not. For the immediate future, Sholto was content to share highlights of that past, re-living times when life had seemed happier and – mislaid toes notwithstanding – simpler.