by Anni Taylor
No one saw me exit the woods.
I was rushing now along the grassy edge of the road. My feet tangled in the roots of the spruce tree and I came down hard. I rolled onto my side. My hip bone hurt, and my hands and knees were covered in mud.
A large hand reached down. “Flap about like a headless chicken and you’re bound to come a’cropper.”
I looked up to see Diarmid Chandlish’s wry face.
Without waiting for any kind of reply, he bent to grab my hand and he pulled me up. “Least you’re the right way up now. People can tell which end is your head and which end is your bum.”
I gave an embarrassed laugh. “Thank you. I wasn’t looking where I was going at all.”
“Aye.”
“What were you doing out here?” I hoped I didn’t sound suspicious, but I spoke before I’d stopped to think.
He shrugged. “Jus’ walkin’. Drives me fair mad being around Aubrey all day.”
“My brother feels the same about me.”
“You women don’t know what you do to us men. You’ve got too many words in you just busting to get out.”
“Not me. I’m the church mouse type. My brother just doesn’t like any chatter that’s not about music.”
“Ach, I don’t believe ya. I can practically hear those thoughts clattering about in your pretty head right now.” He winked.
Diarmid Chandlish spoke like a much older, politically incorrect man who liked to tease young women. But he was probably the same age as me. Yet, something about him was endearing, because I could tell that nothing he said was serious.
“You should come back to our house,” he said. “You can help dilute the effect of having Aubrey and Bridget there in the one space.”
“Thanks for the offer. I’ll keep it in mind.” I smiled. “Well, see you, I’d better get back to work.”
As I stepped towards the gate that led to the McGregors’ property, he called after me, “Isla.”
I whirled back around. “Yes?”
“I hope you weren’t too rattled. With that business about the tattie bogle and all. I know I spoke about it like it was a joke at dinner the other night, but it wasn’t a nice thing, really.”
“I was rattled. But I’ll get past it. You don’t happen to know anything about it, do you?”
“Me? No. I haven’t had the chance to talk with that Trent fellow yet.”
“So, you think it was Trent?”
“Well, if we can’t blame the unconscious fellow, who can we blame?” he said with a playful lilt in his voice. “Besides, who else would do something so daft? He’s Australian, after all.”
Diarmid Chandlish went on his way, whistling.
I headed on through the open gates.
As soon as I was inside the cottage, I uploaded the photos from my camera—to both my computer and online storage. I studied the pictures of the playhouse. Of all the photographs I’d ever taken in my life, these would be among the ones I’d never forget.
I swiped through them.
My back froze suddenly.
Near the playhouse, in the shadow of the trees, a figure stood. Just a sliver of a person was all that was visible, a tree obscuring most of their body.
There had been someone in the forest with me.
22
ISLA
Groggily, I answered my phone.
I hadn’t slept well again last night—thoughts and questions running through my head about who was in the forest yesterday, and what Stella might have been about to tell me about Alban. Added to all that had been the feeling of being both wired and weary—a typical aftermath of my seizures.
“Hello—Isla Wilson speaking,” I croaked into the phone.
“Isla, it’s me, Greer. I’m calling to see if you want to come up to the house for breakfast. It’ll just be Rhiannon and me. Jessica has an appointment this morning and she asked if I could babysit. Alban’s in Inverness, working on-site on a new design. I’d love your company, if you’re up to it. But if you’re not well, that’s okay.”
“That would be nice.” I frowned. “Is there a reason you think I haven’t been well?”
“Oh…I’m a big mouth. I didn’t mean anything by it. Someone told me you’d been to see the doctor. And you sound a bit hoarse this morning. I wondered if you’d picked up a flu or something.”
“No, I’m just a bit tired. And I saw the doctor days ago for something minor.”
“Good, good. Sorry, small town. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. Terrible, really. Well, I’ll be down there in half an hour.”
“See you then.”
Jessica going out would be a welcome reprieve. With her out of the way, maybe I could finally get the interior house shots that I needed.
Someone tapped on the cottage door. A soft, delicate tap—definitely not Aubrey. When Aubrey had knocked on my door, it’d sounded like Scotland Yard was out there.
A slender figure stood on the step.
Stella. Rubbing her arms and teeth chattering. She wasn’t dressed properly for the brisk morning.
“Stella, you look cold.”
“I’m not.”
She very obviously was, but I let it go. My gaze dropped to the cigarette butts on the ground. “Wait, have you been out there for a while?”
“Yeah. Didn’t want to wake ya up too early. It’s not polite.”
She was the oddest mix of brash teenager and anxious child. But there was no sign of the angry girl who’d told her stepfather to get knotted just yesterday.
“Do you want to come in? Or is this about something else?”
“Just thought I’d drop ’round. For a chat.”
“Lovely. Well, come in then.”
She stepped inside, looking around curiously. “I haven’t been in here for yonks.”
Her breath smelled of mints. I guessed she’d popped one in her mouth to cover up the odour of the cigarettes she’d just smoked.
“Would you like a cup of tea?”
She nodded. “Coffee, if you have it.”
“Hot chocolate?” I poured water into the kettle and put it on to boil. “I’ve got marshmallows.”
She chewed on her lip for a second, then broke into a small smile. “Okay, hot chocolate, it is.”
“So, you’re still staying with your grandparents?”
“If you’re asking why I’m not back at school, well, I don’t wanna go back yet. It’s almost Christmas anyway. We’re not doin’ much stuff at school.”
I shrugged. “How many marshmallows?”
“Two. Three.”
“Okay, three.”
“Whatcha doin’ today?”
“Just getting on with the portfolio I’m doing. I’m heading over to the house for breakfast in a minute. Alban and Jessica won’t be there. Just Greer—she’s Alban’s assistant. She’s babysitting Rhiannon this morning.”
“I know who Greer is. Known her for years. She used to be a friend of Kelly’s too.”
I tried to place the name, Kelly, then remembered that Nora Keenan had two daughters—Camille and Kelly. Camille was Stella’s mother, but Stella had run away from home two years ago, and she’d lived with her Aunt Kelly since then. I wondered what had happened that such a young girl hadn’t returned home in all that time. Hamish had blamed Rory—Camille’s husband. But Rory seemed so mild. Surely he wasn’t behind Stella running away?
“Would you like to come to breakfast?” I offered.
Stella seemed hesitant, then said, “I haven’t been back to the McGregors since Elodie died. I haven’t even met the baby.”
“You haven’t met Rhiannon?”
She shook her head. “I miss Elodie. I’d like to meet her sister.” She picked up one of the gold larch cones. “I helped Elodie paint these.”
“The cones are lovely. Why not come along to breakfast? Have you eaten yet?”
“No, I’ve not had breakfast. Hamish is making up a big batch of porridge, but I don’t like porridge. Tastes like sludge. The way he makes it, a
nyway.”
“Okay, then it’s settled.”
We waited together for Greer to arrive and Jessica to leave.
Greer looked up from her newspaper as we walked in. “Stella!” Putting her newspaper and glasses down, she rushed across to hug the girl. “It’s been an age, it has.”
Stella remained stiff, not returning the hug. “I won’t stay long.”
“I’ll make you some toast and eggs,” Greer said as if she hadn’t heard. “Isla, toast and eggs for you, too?”
“That would be great,” I answered. “I’ll come and help.”
Rhiannon, sitting on the rug, wearing tiny white boots and a white jacket, looked from me to Stella. I waved to her. She smiled shyly.
Stella stole across to Rhiannon while I was getting the bread out on the kitchen bench. Rhiannon inched away from the unfamiliar face.
“You look a lot like your sister,” Stella said wistfully. Sitting cross-legged beside the toddler, she gathered up her toys and gave her an impromptu puppet show.
Rhiannon giggled and clapped.
“You have the magic touch, Stella,” I remarked.
“Yes, you’re a real natural with kids,” Greer told her, cracking eggs on the sizzling pan.
“I like kids,” said Stella. “They’re honest. If they like ya, they like ya. If they don’t, you’ll soon know it.”
With the food made, Stella carried Rhiannon to her seat at the table.
“How’s it all going over there in Aviemore, Stella?” Greer asked, as she spooned some food onto a plate for Rhiannon.
Stella pulled her mouth down. “Oh, y’know. Okay I guess. But school is school wherever you go.” She chewed on a piece of bread. “I see you in town quite a bit.”
Greer looked startled. “Me? No, I don’t have any business in Aviemore.”
Unperturbed, Stella nodded. “I’m sure it’s you.”
I could have sworn that Greer seemed a bit guilty, gazing down at her food.
“Well, come to think of it, I’ve been there a couple of times this year,” Greer said. “Anyway, would anyone like more scrambled egg?”
Rhiannon gave an unexpected shout, putting her hand up.
“Oh, you’d like some more, would you, missy?” Greer served out another portion to her.
I’d noticed that Rhiannon seemed to barely finish her food when sitting with her mother, but right now, she seemed excited to sit and eat with us. I could guess why. Jessica was always hovering with a cloth to wipe at Rhiannon’s hands and face, whereas this morning’s meal was a lot more relaxed.
The three of us waited patiently for Rhiannon to finish, then cleaned the plates and kitchen, putting it all back into the exacting order that Jessica liked.
“Guess I’d better go.” Stella was awkward as she rewrapped her scarf around her neck. It was obvious she’d enjoyed her morning here and wished she could stay—but I knew she’d never admit to that.
“Hey,” I said. “I’m planning on taking some photos of the house today. And maybe some portraits of Rhiannon. Would you like to help out? You could keep Rhiannon entertained.”
A smile slipped onto her face. “Like an assistant?”
“Yes, just like that.”
“Would you pay me?”
The girl was nothing if not focused on money. It wasn’t a bad thing, but it certainly gave her a harder edge. “Sure, but we’d better ask your guardian first. That’s Kelly, isn’t it?”
“I’ll call her,” Greer offered. She made the call to Kelly, then smiled and nodded at me. She then stepped away to continue her phone conversation.
“So, how much will I owe you?” I asked Stella.
She shrugged. “Just a wee bit. Should we get started?”
“Yep. Would be a shame to miss this light.”
I began with the interior. I didn’t want to risk Jessica returning early and telling me that it wasn’t a good time. Stella took Rhiannon to another room, to ensure my shots weren’t randomly photobombed with a runaway toddler. The house was beautiful even though it wasn’t homely. The photos were going to look awesome. I took far more shots than I’d originally intended, but I didn’t know if I was going to get the chance again.
With the architectural shoot done, I called Stella to bring Rhiannon back into the living area.
Slinging my camera strap over my head, I knelt to the toddler. “Rhiannon, I’m going to take a few pictures of you.” I held up the camera. “With this. Is that okay?”
She tilted her head, frowning as if this was a deep question that needed careful consideration.
“The pictures of you will go on the wall inside your house,” I told her.
She nodded, but her eyes remained cautious.
Like father, like daughter, I thought. She might look just like her mother, but her personality and intense expression were her father’s.
I took some photos of Rhiannon standing by the fireplace with her giraffe and playing her child-sized grand piano. For once I was glad that Jessica had dressed her daughter up—the white clothing was going to look lovely.
We all headed outside then so that I could start the portraits of Rhiannon. These were mostly going to be closeup shots, and I wanted the gorgeous heather as a soft background.
“Stella,” I called, “could you put the blanket down near the front of the heather, and sit Rhiannon down there? Actually, could you also give Rhiannon a stem of heather?”
Rhiannon studied the flower that Stella had picked and handed to her, as if this one must be more special than the others just because it had been given to her.
With the little girl in position, I moved about until I found an angle in which a halo of light appeared around her shoulders and blonde head, sunlight glowing on the pillowy mounds of heather in the background. The scene took my breath away. It perfectly showed Rhiannon’s quiet, reflective nature. I almost forgot to take the photographs.
“You’re a wee princess, Rhiannon,” came Stella’s voice behind me.
I angled myself around to her. “Could I get a photo of the two of you together?”
Stella shook her head. “I’d ruin the pictures. I’m not wearin’ any makeup and my hair’s a right mess.”
I knew I wouldn’t be able to convince her that she looked great just the way she was. Somehow, over the span of her short life, she’d become convinced that the way she looked wasn’t good enough.
“Just a photo for you to keep.” I shrugged. “That’s all.”
“Okay,” she said with a doubting tone. “What do you want me to do?”
“Let’s just try you being on the blanket with Rhiannon. The light looks lovely there,” I said.
Stella stepped across and jumped onto the blanket, tickling Rhiannon, making the toddler squeal and roll around. Stella glanced over at me suddenly, looking guilty. “I’m messin’ up her hair, aren’t I?”
“No, messy is good. Trust me.” I had Stella and Rhiannon lie on their stomachs, both looking at the flower stalk that Rhiannon held. Then the two of them facing each other while Rhiannon held out a bunch of heather to Stella.
I checked the photos on my screen. I was right. Stella was incredibly photogenic. More than that, the photos had a kind of purity about them. The two children had a silent communication between them, their hair dotted with flower petals. Stella looked like the fourteen-year-old that she was, on the cusp between childhood and becoming a young woman.
Greer returned, dropping her phone back into her pocket. “Beautiful,” she gushed.
To complete the portraits of Rhiannon, I took a few more of her around the front of the property, with Stella assisting.
“Okay,” I announced, “we’re all done.”
“This was fun,” said Stella in a completely open manner, surprising me. “Let’s get one of all of us. Y’know, to remember this day. You too, Greer.”
“Eek, I’d break the camera,” Greer protested.
I laughed. “You so would not.”
We bunched toge
ther, Rhiannon in Stella’s arms, while Greer—who had the longest arms—held out my iPhone to snap a couple of pictures of the four of us.
“How will I see the photos?” Stella asked me anxiously. “I mean, once I go back to Aviemore and you go back to Sydney?”
“I’ll make sure you get them,” I assured her. “I’ll get Kelly’s email address and send them on.”
While I was talking with Stella, Rhiannon stepped up to a clump of heather and closed her dimply fist around a stem and tore it loose. She handed me the mangled stem. I understood that she was giving me a gift.
“Thank you,” I told her. “This is just beautiful.”
I won the first smile that I’d had from her in the whole time I’d been here. I threaded the flower in through the top button-hole of my jacket. She seemed to like that.
Gazing about at the heather ruffling in the light breeze, I felt a peace and rhythm that had been missing from my life. Here at Braithnoch, despite the wintry Scottish weather and despite the strangeness of the McGregors, I was finding enchantment in the smallest of things. I made a vow that when I returned to Sydney, I’d take time out to just smell the roses, as the saying went.
Even Stella looked content, lying on her back on the ground now, twirling a flower between her thumb and forefinger. She caught me looking and the old self-conscious expression slipped back onto her face. She shrugged. “Easiest money I ever made.”
A car’s wheels crunched the gravel in the driveway. Jessica drove in, her expression pinched. She parked and stepped out, raising her head high as she looked from Greer to Stella to me. “What’s going on?”
Greer smiled at her. “We’ve been helping Isla get her portfolio done. I can’t wait to see the photos. Oh, they’ll be lovely.”
“Jessica, I’d love to get some photos of you and Rhiannon,” I ventured. “Out here near the heather.”
She removed her sunglasses, blinking in the sun. “I’m not feeling the best, I’m afraid.” She called Rhiannon to her. “Oh dear, look at you. Run inside now.”
Rhiannon immediately obeyed.
Jessica’s forehead wrinkled as she watched Rhiannon enter the house. “I hope you didn’t take photographs of my daughter in that condition, Isla? I didn’t realise you were planning a photo session with her this morning.”
