Whether they did or not maybe didn’t matter. What mattered was that the game had history, and more than that, an expectation attached – one that was supernatural. As I’ve said before, some games shouldn’t be played; they should be left well alone.
I came to a decision. “Eilidh, once Angus and I have cleared the dishes, would you mind if we went out again?”
It was Angus who replied. “Where are we going, back to the lighthouse?”
“No. When we go there again, it’ll be in daylight. I want to speak to Liam’s father and from what you’ve told me about him, I’m guessing where he’ll be.”
“At the pub.”
I winked cheekily at him. “If you drive me I’ll buy you a lemonade.”
* * *
Waiting in the hallway for Angus, who’d quickly visited the bathroom, Eilidh came to stand beside me. “You put a spring in his step, so you do.”
“Who? Angus?”
“Aye, and little wonder, you’re a bonny lass.”
Embarrassed, I lifted one hand to push at my hair. “Thank you, but I’m really not.”
My protestation surprised her. “Why are you so quick to disagree? Surely your mother’s told you countless times how bonny you are?”
“My mother?” I almost choked on the words. “Sorry, I’m so sorry,” I said, realising how bad that must have looked. “Erm… no, she didn’t actually, not often.” Not ever more like.
Reaching out, Eilidh took my arm. “Then more fool her. She should have told you.”
A brief moment of silence hung between us, during which I attempted to change the subject. “I hope the pub isn’t too far.”
It didn’t work.
“I’m glad you came to Skye,” she continued, “and I’m grateful for your help. We need it. Like you, I don’t think the situation’s going to get any better or go away on its own.” I looked at her, stunned. At no point had I shared that point of view with her, and yet still she’d picked up on it. “The thing is, Ness, you have to believe in yourself. You’re a special person. You’re kind, you’re beautiful and you’re talented. But if you don’t think you are, if you keep denying it, then what good is any of it? Whatever we’re facing, you’re its equal. I believe in you and I’ll help too, in any way I can. There are a lot of us that will, we won’t question what you do. You’re not something outlandish here, you’re a hero.”
There was no way I could answer, not when a sob had lodged in my throat. Thankfully I didn’t have to. Angus appeared, all brisk efficiency, rubbing his hands together as though in excited anticipation before shooing me out the door. It took the entire twenty-minute car journey for me to regain composure after what Eilidh had said, my head turned from Angus all the while, as I stared into the stormy darkness, seeing nothing but my own pitiful reflection staring back. It was so white against the night, so small and insignificant. A hero she’d called me, riding up here on a plane instead of a charger, ready to tackle what had been causing trouble. Was I such? No. A hero wouldn’t have done as I’d done in the past.
“Here we are, at the oldest pub on Skye.”
I shook my head in surprise. “Already?”
“We are indeed. Were you asleep by the way, you were awful quiet.”
“I… erm… might have dozed off for a minute or two,” I lied, having to lean forward so that I could see the whitewashed building we were slowly passing, one that ran the length of several houses. On it were words picked out in black: The Stein Inn. “How old is it?” I asked.
“Dates back to 1790 according to a plaque at the entrance. Supposed to be haunted too, be interesting to see if you think so.”
“I hope not. There’s no time to get side-tracked.”
“Aye, well, the only spirits I’ve ever seen in there are from the local distillery.”
As we hurried back towards the pub from the car park, the rain having eased slightly, though the wind was still fierce, Angus told me there was a loch to our left. I looked over, but I have to say, I’d never have guessed, the clouds once again having erected a wall.
We reached the porch and stopped to catch our breaths.
“It’s beautiful here on a summer’s day,” he continued when he was able. “The loch’s as still as anything.”
“Being the oldest pub on Skye, it must get besieged with tourists.”
“Tourists? I should think most of them opt for far sunnier climes than this. No, it’s peaceful on the whole, one of my favourite locations. Sitting with a pint, staring out over the water, there’s a healing quality to it. You should try it sometime.”
Anger flared. “Sorry? What do you mean by that?”
“What? Nothing, I…”
“First your mother and now you.”
“My mother…?”
“There’s nothing wrong with me!”
“I’m sorry, I really don’t—”
“I don’t need your pity. I don’t want it!”
“Ness, will you calm down, I was just saying, that’s all.”
“But that whole healing thing…”
“Aye, it is, it’s exactly that, it’s special. But I wasn’t implying you needed healing.”
“It’s just…” Again, my voice trailed off.
“Although to be honest, doesn’t everyone, to some degree or other? Life can deliver some hard knocks.”
I lowered my head – all fight gone. “Life is what it is, it’s a learning curve.”
He leant a little closer to me – as close as he dared I suppose. “Ness, what’s happening here, if it’s putting you under too much pressure—”
“It’s not, I’m trying to understand it, that’s all.”
“Everyone affected is. You’re not alone.”
Then how come I felt it, especially at this moment, standing in the wind-blown porch of an ancient pub in one of the United Kingdom’s most far-flung places? How come I felt more alone than ever? I blinked heavily. “I’m tired, I think. It’s been another long day.”
“It has. Are you sure you want to go in, or shall we just go home and get some rest?”
“We’re here now.”
“Come on, then, let’s get it over and done with. If he’s here, I don’t know what state he’s going to be in. Sometimes he has to be carried back to his bed.”
“We’ll soon find out, I guess.”
Entering the pub, a welcome blast of heat hit us courtesy of a fire that was devouring logs a few feet away. Also in close proximity was a man sitting on a stool at the bar; he had very red cheeks, a mop of white hair and a stomach to rival that of Father Christmas.
“Ron, how are you?” Angus greeted. “This is Ness, a friend of mine. Ness, this is Ron.”
Ron’s eyes were already glazed with a somewhat rheumy quality to them, his nose large and rounded, reminded me of a chunk of cheese. One hand gripped his pint, as though hanging on to it for dear life, the other he extended towards me. I noticed it was shaking slightly. “Pleased to meet you. It’s a wild night you’ve come out on.”
“Needs must,” answered Angus. “Now, Ness, what are you having?”
“Erm… coke will be fine.”
“Nothing harder?”
“No thanks.” Seeing how the hard stuff affected Ron had had an off-putting effect.
“No problem,” he replied amiably, “and I guess it’s a lemonade for me.”
I tore my gaze away briefly from Ron to smile at him.
“So,” Ron continued. “You’re English.”
“For my sins, yes.”
“My lad’s just gone over the border to Carlisle, he’s working in a boatyard there.”
“Liam?”
Ron looked astonished. “Aye. You know him, do you?”
Angus answered before I could, handing me my drink at the same time. “No, she doesn’t, but Liam’s who we’ve come to talk to you about.”
Ron’s whole demeanour changed, he sat further upright, suspicion sharpening his gaze. “And why is that, may I ask?”
“She’s a psychic you see, investigating what happened at the lighthouse, like a detective almost. In fact, she works for the police too, and the council, don’t you, Ness?”
I could have kicked him – right there and then in that genteel pub that was thankfully empty, apart from Ron and a barmaid who had since disappeared.
“Angus—” I began, intending to have another go at him, but Ron cut me off.
“Liam’s stint at the lighthouse, it’s over and done with. He’s moved on.”
Before I could reply, he reached for his glass and drank from it, several long draughts that rendered it dry. I couldn’t help but be impressed and Angus too by the looks of him.
Belching, he then yelled for the barmaid. “Jan, where are you? Get me another.”
Jan appeared – world-weary Jan; a Jan who looked far from impressed with Ron’s behaviour, who’d seen it all before, many times no doubt.
“We’re going to call it a night soon,” she warned, taking his glass from him and duly refilling it. “No one’s coming out, not in this weather, no one in their right mind anyway.” Glancing at us, she shrugged as if she couldn’t care less if her words caused offence. Handing him his glass, she added, “You’ve ten minutes, fifteen at the most.”
Whilst she did another disappearing act, Ron drank again, but managed to stop about a third of the way through this time.
“Look,” I said, having waited patiently, “Angus’s uncle wanted me to come here, after… well, after what happened with Ally Dunn. I presume you know about that?”
“Aye I do, I keep my ear to the ground. But what’s it got to do with Liam?”
“I’m wondering if what happened with Ally is linked in any way with the Camerons’ sudden disappearance.”
“Something supernatural, you mean?” Yet again his hand gripped his pint, but he didn’t raise it to his lips, he continued staring at me.
I swallowed. “Yes. Exactly that.”
“You know about the girl who threw herself off the cliffs?”
I heard Angus breathe inwards, but I simply nodded. “Moira? Yes I do.”
“Think it’s linked with her too, do you?”
“It could be.”
Silence descended, not companionable, it felt explosive. Was Ron going to start yelling at me to get out of his favourite watering hole, and take my witchy ways with me? I always half-expected that reaction. He did no such thing. When he started speaking again, his voice was low, ominous even.
“They weren’t right, the Camerons. They came from an island more remote than this one. Barra, do you know it? Less than a thousand people live there. Island people – remote island people – I’m wary of them sometimes. The Camerons came to man that lighthouse and largely they kept themselves to themselves. Even home schooled their young ’uns, well Mrs Cameron did, didn’t want them mixing, picking up funny ways.” He bellowed with laughter at that, causing a dog to howl, one I hadn’t noticed before, lounging behind the other side of the bar – Jan’s dog, it must be. “Ironic, isn’t it, that they should be the ones worried about funny ways.”
I didn’t know whether his prejudice was widespread or peculiar to him, but I listened carefully nonetheless, desperate for more clues.
“Liam never liked working there, truth be told, much less living in that cabin. It’s a bleak place, awful. Da, he said, it’s like living at the end of the world. I sympathised, I did, but a job’s a job and on Skye, you cannae afford to be fussy. He grew fond of the kids well enough, Caitir and Niall, playing games with them when their parents were out of earshot, having a bit of a laugh. Ach, Liam was just a big kid himself in many ways. Once the parents found out though, they put to a stop to it, told him to do his job and nothing more, that he wasn’t to ‘interfere’. He was there a year before Cameron insisted he wasn’t needed anymore. He had to pack his bags and go. Liam was glad of it though. He said that during the last few months they’d grown even stranger, the kids too, although to be fair, he hadn’t seen the youngsters in a while, they barely ever roamed the hillsides, were always kept inside. Terrible that is, to keep kids inside, they need fresh air to fill their lungs, to make them proper Highlanders. I went to pick Liam up and sought out Cameron, if only to shake his hand, to thank him for giving my lad a job in the first place, no hard feelings, like. Despite everything, the job would look good on his CV; it’d help him to go on to better things. So I went looking for him, as I said, and found him at the top of the tower, just staring at the sea. Big man he was, built like a brick shithouse. I said my piece, I thanked him and he ignored me. Can you believe it? He stood there, as still as a statue, with his back to me, as if in a trance. I went back down, passed the house on my way to the car, and noticed for the first time that the curtains were closed, despite it being such a bonny day. I no longer wanted to thank him, I can tell you. I just wanted to get away. I had a sense – a strong sense – that we’d made a lucky escape; that Liam had got out in the nick of time. I felt guilty too, that he’d even been there in the first place. A job’s a job, I’d said that, but that place, on that day…” He shook his head. “No one’s ever that desperate. Soon after that the Camerons upped and left, and good riddance to them.”
Having delivered this spiel, he at last finished the other half of his pint. As soon as that glass was empty, Jan reappeared, a troubled look on her face. Had she been listening to Ron, I wondered?
“Come on,” she said, “away with you all. I’ve had enough.”
We quickly finished our drinks as Ron eased himself off his stool. As we made our way to the door, he staggered a little and I reached out a hand to steady him.
“So you’re a psychic, are you?”
“I… I have a sixth sense, yes.”
“A miracle worker too?”
I frowned. “A miracle worker? No. I’m just trying to help.”
“I don’t want you to contact Liam, I want him left alone. He’s happy now, he’s settled, out of harm’s way.”
I stood my ground. “What about those who remain in harm’s way? What about Ally?”
“Stupid kids shouldn’t have gone to the lighthouse in the first place.”
“But they did.”
He looked at me for a moment and then relented. “Aye, they did.”
Angus held the door open and we stood in the porch once more, whilst Jan slid the bolts home on the other side, making a point. Ron stood swaying in between us. “I see things sometimes,” he said, his manner conspiratorial. “When I’ve had one too many, but that doesn’t mean to say they’re not there. The drink, it does something.”
“It opens you up,” I said, thinking about Moira and the LSD.
He nodded. “Aye, that it does. Please, lass, I’m asking you, don’t get Liam involved. He’s a good lad, a conscientious lad. If you contact him, he’ll come back, won’t even think twice about it. He’s like you, not psychic, I don’t mean that, but he likes to help.”
“We can’t get in touch if you don’t give us his details,” I reminded him.
“Well, I’m not going to, not right now.”
“Fair enough,” I said, disappointed in his decision.
Staring wistfully outwards, he staggered again. This time Angus caught him. “Will I give you a lift home, Ron?” he asked.
“Away with you!” Ron waved a hand at him. “I can walk. The fresh air will do me good.”
Although not convinced, Angus didn’t object. “We’d best away ourselves then.”
All three of us started walking, Ron veering off to the right. As I watched him go, I considered what we’d learnt – something – but not enough. I was still confused. If only we could speak to Liam, it would help further, but we also had to respect his father’s wishes.
Heads down again, slightly despondent, we marched onwards. Becau
se of my stance, I didn’t realise Ron was making his way back towards us until Angus nudged me.
Coming to a standstill in front of us, it was me the old man focused on. “I’ve no wish to put you in harm’s way. Look at you, you’re no more than a wee slip of a girl.”
“I’m stronger than I look.”
“It might be nothing…”
“Ron, please. If Moira is connected to this, there’s already been one death that we know about. Ally Dunn… I’m concerned for her too. Do I…” I hesitated. “Do I need to go to Barra? Perhaps the Camerons have gone back there?”
“Barra?” He spat the word at me. “You’ll not get to Barra in this weather. You’ll not get there ’til the springtime.”
“Damn!” I said under my breath. Could this case wait that long? I honestly didn’t think so. “Angus?” I questioned.
“He’s right. There’s no way. Not in this.”
Ron noticed how stricken I looked. “Don’t take on, lass, it’s not there you need to go anyway.”
“Oh? Where then?” I asked, doubly confused.
“It’s your namesake, Loch Ness. On the banks, overlooking the waters, there’s a house, Balskeyne. One with a reputation.”
“What kind of reputation?”
“A bad one.” As he said it, a gust of wind blew him backwards. Quickly he fought against it and straightened up. “Liam heard Cameron talk about Balskeyne once, to his wife. And in the last few months he was at Minch, there used to come a visitor there, when none had been before. It was a man Liam didn’t like the look of; he told me there was something about him… something unclean. That’s when the Camerons changed, when this man started up his visits. Never friendly, they went to being downright odd.”
“Balskeyne?” I turned to Angus. “Have you heard of this house?”
“Oh, aye, I’ve heard of it. But under the circumstances, Ness, I wish to God I hadn’t.”
Thirteen Chapter Fifteen
Psychic Surveys Companion Novels Page 26
