by Anni Taylor
Gus cut a fit-looking figure in his suit, but his deeply hooded eyes had dark shadows beneath them. I imagined him in an office all day making million-dollar deals and then working out in a gym until dark. The two of them didn’t resemble people who had just been travelling for a month on holiday. They didn’t have that exhausted-but-happy look that people tended to have when they returned from an overseas trip. The Chandlishes must have already seen it all—several times—and nothing entranced them anymore.
“Can I get you a red wine, Isla?” Peyton asked. “It’s quite a good one.” He looked handsome in a casual suit.
“No, I’m fine,” I told him.
“I hope you’re enjoying our part of the world,” said Mrs Chandlish.
“It’s beautiful,” I replied. “All so green. I hope to see snow before I leave. I’ve never seen snow.”
In response, her lips tightened into a small, pursed smile. “You won’t be so fond of it when it smothers us.”
Mr Chandlish rolled his shoulders in a half-shrug. “It’s my favourite time of year. The snow. Like a blank canvas, from which we all start again anew.”
She gave a wan smile. “You read too many philosophy books, Gus.”
He winked at me. “Watch the sun glistening on the snow when there’s a full cover, Isla. Or the soft glow of the moon. You won’t believe how light it is at night when it snows. Magical. But don’t stare too long or you might just start to think there isn’t a better sight in this world.”
Greer wrinkled her brow. “Where’s Jess and Alban?”
“They were here a minute ago,” said Mrs Chandlish. “I think they might have gone upstairs to settle their little one off to sleep. We have a guest room up there with a cot for little ones.”
“If so, they’ve got an escapee on their hands.” Peyton waggled his finger at a pyjama-clad Rhiannon, who was running along the distant corridor. She had her giraffe tucked under one arm and a blanket under the other.
“There’s an open fireplace up that way. I’ll go get her.” I was glad of an excuse to leave the room. I could already tell that the Chandlishes weren’t going to be my favourite people to have dinner with.
I caught up with the escapee toddler. “Hey, are you supposed to be in bed?”
She stopped, shaking her head.
I grinned. “Are you sure?”
Guiltily, she chewed her lip and then nodded. Spinning around, she ran in the opposite direction and headed for the stairs.
She’d dropped her giraffe. I stepped down the hallway and stooped to pick it up. Voices carried in the air. I looked around, not seeing anyone, then realised that Alban and Jessica were close by.
I took a few steps and found them in a luxurious-looking powder room. All the lights were off.
Jessica was standing at the window looking out, her arms tightly crossed. Alban was standing a short distance behind her.
They were speaking in quiet, tense voices. I knew that I should leave. But I stood fixedly, unable to make myself move. After seeing the bruises on Jessica’s arms and finding out what the painting on the wall represented, I was morbidly curious to know more about who Alban and Jessica were.
“I don’t know if I can do this,” Jessica was saying. “The pretence. Having to act like everything’s okay. Why’d we have to come here tonight?”
“They invited us, Jess. I went to speak to them about the tattie bogle thing. Gus said he might want a design done on an investment property of his in London. Anyway, it’s just a dinner and a bit of a chat.” He shrugged.
“I’m tired of the chat,” she snapped. “I’m tired of pretending like everything’s all right when it isn’t. And I’m tired of having a bloody photographer living under our noses. I’m falling apart, and you don’t care.”
“Of course I care.”
“No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t put me through this. I’m just trying to do the best thing for Rhiannon. We need to get away from here. Move to Edinburgh and start to live again. This house, Braithnoch—it’s like it all exists on an island away from the world. And we’re trapped on it. How do you think I feel knowing that the playhouse is still standing there in the woods? Like some kind of macabre memorial. Every time I look at the woods, all I can think of is her.”
“I’m not leaving the place where our daughter spent her years here on this earth.” Alban’s voice was wracked dry with emotion.
“We have another daughter to think of,” Jessica cried. “Have you forgotten her? You’re obsessed with Elodie. It’s not healthy, Alban. She’s gone. And obsessing about her isn’t going to bring her back, no matter how much we wish it would.”
Drawing in a deep, silent breath I backed away. I hurried along the hallway and back to the kitchen. I felt stung by Jessica’s words. I was that bloody photographer staying in the cottage on her land. I knew I shouldn’t take it personally—it was obvious she was feeling trapped and angry and she was lashing out. But it was impossible not to feel bad. I wished I’d never come here. It’d been a stupid idea from the start.
I found Rhiannon sitting on the bottom stair and picked her up.
The Chandlishes and Greer turned around to me as I re-entered the living room.
“I’m not sure where the McGregors are, but I managed to catch this little imp.” I grinned, trying to cover up my discomfort.
Alban and Jessica walked in a minute after I did.
Jessica took Rhiannon from me. “What’s she doing here?”
Peyton smiled widely, winking at me. “She escaped from Alcatraz. She heard people downstairs and came to party.”
Jessica sighed. “She must have climbed out of the cot.”
“Goodnight, Rhiannon.” I waved at the toddler as Jessica took her away.
Aubrey and Diarmid came in just as the chef was serving out dinner.
“Oh my God, Isla,” said Aubrey as she seated herself at the table. “I’d have absolutely freaked if I’d seen that bogle up in the tree. You’d have heard me scream clear to Inverness.”
“Lucky for our collective ears that you weren’t there, then,” remarked Diarmid dryly.
“It’s okay,” I murmured, sitting down next to her. “I wasn’t scared. I hope Trent is all right.”
She nodded, squeezing my arm assuredly. “He’s recovering. Don’t worry, we’ll find out who strung up the bogle. And they’ll have hell to pay.”
“Such an absurd thing to happen.” Deirdre Chandlish had a distasteful expression as she flicked her gaze over me. “Completely absurd.”
“We certainly don’t want people like that hanging about.” Jessica toyed with a spoon, her chin tense beneath tight lips. “I find it frightening. I mean, I have to live here. And when Alban is away, I worry for Rhiannon.”
“Of course.” Deirdre shook her well-coiffed head. “You of all people don’t need rubbish like this happening. Aubrey, you really need to be more careful about who you bring to the house.”
Diarmid munched a bread roll. “Told her that Trent guy was a dick.”
“Language, please.” Gus Chandlish’s voice boomed out. “Leave that talk for when you’re away from the dinner table.”
“We don’t know for sure that it was Trent,” Aubrey mumbled, drawing her fingers through hair that was messed from the wind.
“Aye, right.” Peyton rolled his eyes tiredly. “Well, that leaves your boyfriend, Simon.”
“Come to think of it,” added Diarmid, “both Trent and Simon were roaming about in the woods that night. Deduce from that what you will, people. One of them—or both—is the bogle rustler. Now, what reasons did they have to accost a poor bogle and string him up in a tree? How did they even manage to ascend said tree with said bogle? These are the questions that must be asked.” Diarmid smirked, apparently feeling pleased with himself.
“That’s enough,” called his father. “Just drop it.”
In response to her brothers, Aubrey let her head drop, staying silent. I guessed that things hadn’t gone well in
her relationship with Simon.
Greer smiled around at everyone. “Isla and I had a lovely day today in Inverness. The weather was good to us. Isla certainly gave her camera a workout. The Ness Islands and the Botanic Gardens. Even Loch Ness, though the wind had gotten a tad bitey by then.”
I blew out a breath, glad that Greer had saved the strained mood at the table.
“Oh, how marvellous,” said Deirdre, seeming as glad I was that Greer had changed the subject. “I’m glad you two enjoyed your day.”
“We did indeed,” said Greer. “We even stopped at a little abandoned church on the way back. Isla thought it would be a good photo opportunity. These creative types notice things the rest of us don’t.”
“Don’t write the rest of us off,” Peyton joked. “I’ve got a fondness for old places myself. Lots of history. Will you be uploading today’s pictures on your website, Isla? I’d be interested in seeing your church. I had a peek at your other work earlier today. It’s bloody brilliant.”
I broke into a grin. “Thank you.”
The chef served out dinner—fish and vegetables. All beautifully cooked.
During dinner, the conversation flowed naturally. I was content to sit quietly, answering questions when I was asked.
Deirdre took a delicate dab at her mouth with a napkin. “So, Jessica, what have you been up to lately? Gus and I have been away for quite a while. We need to catch up with you both.”
Jessica waved a hand. “Oh, nothing much. I can’t speak for Alban, but you know me. I’m just there at home with Rhiannon. Can’t do much else when they’re that age. We went to look at some houses on the weekend. There’s some lovely ones at Corstorphine. And of course, it’s right near Edinburgh Zoo, and Rhiannon would love that. She adores animals.”
“Do tell?” Deirdre opened her eyes inquisitively. “Are you thinking of buying there in Edinburgh? Are you moving?”
“Just an investment,” said Alban quickly.
“Oh, who knows,” said Jessica. “We might just fall in love with one of the streets there and decide to move.”
“Move away from Braithnoch?” Gus Chandlish looked startled. “That would be a big change.” He settled back in his chair. “But, you know, it could be a positive one. Lots more there for a wee bairn to do. There’s not any other children around this part of Greenmire now.”
Alban’s back grew rigid, his mouth twisting a little. “I’ll not leave Braithnoch, not even when I’m cold and dead in the ground.”
No one spoke. It seemed that nothing was going to bring the conversation back from that.
“I’m sorry,” said Jessica, placing a hand on her stomach. “I’m feeling a wee bit ill. Please, everyone, carry on. I think I need to have a lie down.”
“You poor thing,” said Mrs Chandlish. “I’ll walk you upstairs. You can have a rest on the bed next to Rhiannon.”
The chef brought dessert out, but the mood at the table was definitely stilted. I was relieved when Peyton suggested going to sit out in the lounge room. At least, everyone wouldn’t be sitting so formally and staring at each other then.
The night lasted barely an hour longer.
Greer drove me back to the cottage. “I’m sorry that tonight got a bit difficult in a few spots,” she told me apologetically.
“I’ll survive.” I stifled a yawn.
“Poor thing. It’s been a long day for you. Tuck yourself up into bed and have a good sleep.”
As soon as Greer was gone, I crawled into bed, feeling like a child who’d had a confusing day. I was Alice in the underland, trying to make sense of people and things that made no sense at all. Somehow, I’d stopped looking in through the door and found my way into that strange world.
When I dreamed that night, I dreamed of the old house with the long corridor.
The dream left me gasping and reeling as I woke in the middle of the night.
This time, feet dangled mid-air in a room of the house, same as last time. I stepped inside, not wanting to enter but compelled to anyway.
I looked inside the dark room.
It wasn’t my father hanging from the rafters of that room, but a scarecrow.
18
ELODIE
Greenmire, Scottish Highlands, December 2015
Everything was quiet, but for the steady beep, beep, beep of a machine.
Elodie knew she was in a hospital because everyone kept reminding her, from the nurses to the doctors to Daddy.
She was in a hospital and in a coma. That much she knew. Only, no one would tell her why or what happened to her.
You’re in hospital, Elodie. My name is Nurse Lucy. You’re going to be all right. You just need to rest here for a while. Good girl.
That was all she was told, over and over again. But she still couldn’t wake or open her eyes or see.
“We need to keep grounding her,” Nurse Lucy told Daddy. “People in comas easily get confused.”
“Can she hear us?” Elodie heard Daddy’s voice clearly.
“It’s best to assume that she can. Just keep holding her hand and talking to her.”
Daddy was holding her hand? She couldn’t feel it.
“Please, is she better than she was last night?” Daddy’s voice cracked on the word night.
Elodie listened hard for the answer. Nurse Lucy took her time before she said, “You’ll have to wait for the doctor. I can’t give you an answer to that. She’ll be here soon.”
“What’s keeping her?” Daddy snapped. “I don’t want to wait for the damned doctor while she takes her sweet time. I’ll go find her myself and drag her in here.”
“Mr McGregor—”
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, Elodie,” Daddy told her. “I won’t be long.”
But she didn’t know what long—or short—meant anymore. She’d vanished into a darkness that seemed like forever.
She heard Daddy’s footsteps grow fainter.
With Daddy gone, a mist entered her mind. Thick, swirling. Frightening.
Wheels softly squeaked from across the room. The squeaking came closer.
“Elodie,” came a voice, “it’s Mummy.”
Mum. She’d gone out to get the potatoes. Elodie recalled the cold, quiet house—the air inside growing dim. She’d run about switching the lights on one by one. What happened after that? How did she end up in the playhouse? Maybe Mum would tell her.
“I’m in a silly wheelchair,” Mum said. “Can you believe it? A wheelchair. So, I can’t come up there and hug you like I’m dying to.”
Mum was in a wheelchair? Too many things were happening that she didn’t understand.
“My sweet girl, I love you so dearly. I need you to get better. Can you do that for me, Elly?”
Silence followed. A response pushed sluggishly through Elodie’s mind, like a current in a mud-choked creek, the way the creek that flowed through the back of Braithnoch sometimes looked in summer. But she couldn’t speak. Her lips were unable to form sounds.
“I have some news for you,” Mum said. “A surprise. Your wee baby sister was born last night. You have a sister, Elodie.”
Elodie attempted to process the words. The baby wasn’t supposed to be born yet. Mum had said it’d be a Christmas baby.
“That’s why I couldn’t come back straight away,” Mum told her. “Your sister was in a big hurry to come out and meet you. I wish it had happened differently and that you could see her. How I wish.”
Mum hadn’t come back with the potatoes because the baby had to be born. Elodie understood now.
She’s beautiful, just like you,” Mum continued. “I’m going to call her Rhiannon. You always said if Daddy and I had another little girl, we should call her Rhiannon. And so that will be her name. She’s a wee bit ill at the moment—she’s in intensive care. But she’s going to be okay. And so are you, sweet girl.”
Mum’s voice kept fading to a hoarse whisper and she said the last part through tears, but Elodie understood it all. She was used to Mum cry
ing.
“You have to wake up and see her,” Mum whispered, still crying. “She’s got blonde hair and blue eyes, and a cheeky little dimple like Daddy. Oh, she’s so tiny, Elodie. Little fingers and toes. I’ve told her all about you and she can’t wait to meet you.”
Elodie pictured a tiny, wriggling baby. The picture in her mind made her want to cry. She’d been waiting to see the baby for so long. And now she couldn’t see anything at all. Would Mum let the baby share a room with her? The baby was a girl, so maybe Mum would. Elodie wouldn’t mind if Rhiannon cried in the nights.
“I have to go now, Elly Belly, the baby will need feeding again soon. I’ll come back as soon as I can. Just rest and get better. And when you’re ready, you can see Rhiannon. Okay? Promise me you’ll wake up soon. Bye for now, baby girl.”
The wheelchair squeaked from the room.
Mum hadn’t called her Elly Belly since she was small.
She held what her mother had just told her tight and protected deep inside her. She had a baby sister. And her name was Rhiannon. And she had dimples.
Elodie heard shuffling noises and realised that someone else was in the room.
“A baby sister, Elodie. How lovely.” It was Nurse Lucy. She’d never left. It felt comforting to know she wasn’t alone. She didn’t want to be alone.
Another nurse entered the room—at least, she guessed she was a nurse because she and Nurse Lucy seemed to be checking things and talking briefly about scans and readings.
When she next heard them speak, they were quieter. They’d moved across the room and they were using voices that were just above whispers. Elodie knew they thought she couldn’t hear them. But she could hear every word.
“Was that Jessica McGregor—the girl’s mother?” said the nurse who was helping Nurse Lucy.
“Yes,” replied Nurse Lucy. “The wheelchair is only temporary. She’s on strong medication and she’s not okay to walk about yet. She went into shock apparently when she heard about her daughter.”
“The poor thing. It’s totally understandable.”
“She’d only just given birth, too. Last night.”
