by A. M. Castle
Who’s that right by the foot of the mount? It must be Roderick. He looks like a cannonball from this angle. Ah, there’s Penny twitching into view. They’re never apart for long, my little Tweedledum and Tweedle-doolally. If it weren’t for Roderick, Penny would be in the Priory by now. The long-stay car park, if you know what I mean.
A knock. What’s that? People know I’m not to be disturbed up here. Unless it’s Ross … but he wouldn’t break in on me. Oh, it’s one of my team. All hand-picked from my other places. The livery is a new touch, and I like it.
‘Ruby is missing, you say? Oh, yes. Gita’s youngest. Right, I’m coming,’ I say. ‘Straight away.’
I slip on my robe, plait my hair into a satisfyingly thick rope and curl it quickly onto my head. I barely stop to check my eyeliner, refresh my concealer. Wait, those little pumps I got from Stella McCartney … ah, in the closet. I’m ready. Not that there’s anything I can really do.
I wonder now if it was her I heard, earlier. That, well, I don’t want to say splash. But there was something. If you have a calming regime, you don’t want to interrupt it for just anything, do you? One hundred strokes doesn’t mean seventy-eight.
Was it the sound of a child falling? Or was it just a slightly bigger wave, breaking on the rocks down there? Now I think about it, it was probably just that.
I march down the stairs, one hand out, feeling the coolness of the stone as I follow the corkscrew from my chamber to the guest floor. There are wet towels discarded on the landing. It’s those teenage girls, but really! I hope I’m not going to have to have one of those talks with the staff. Well, it can wait until tomorrow. As I descend to the Great Hall, I hear raised voices.
Oh, fabulous. Just what I didn’t want. Some sort of crisis, overshadowing everything. Look, I know a missing girl is serious. But she’s not gone far, surely? That wave was just a wave. She can’t have been unsupervised for long. I know Gita. Those girls don’t get away with that much. Not really.
No, she’ll have a handle on everything. Of course she will. These goose bumps are just from the chill. The temperature is dropping, that’s all. I don’t want any disruption, not tonight. It will be fine. Unless …
Unless she put Tom in charge? Did she? No, she wouldn’t have. But as I burst in through the velvet entrance (one of my better ideas) the first person I see is Gita, her face already blotched with tears. She runs towards me, clutches at me. Over her shoulder, I lock eyes with Tom. Damn.
‘Tom?’ I say, but Gita breaks in. ‘It’s Ruby. He’s lost her.’
Chapter 26
Gita
Mount Tregowan, 31st October
I’m lying in a tangle of sheets, my mind full of images. I remember sitting at the breakfast table, looking into Rachel’s perfect face. My only worry then was my croissant blow-out. Now I feel as though I’ve aged ten years. I must look like I’ve piled on twenty.
It’s Rachel’s fault, like this whole bloody weekend. I shouldn’t have taken that tea from her. ‘I’ve put in a little something for the shock,’ she said. I assumed she meant sugar. ‘Go on,’ she encouraged me. When I took a sip it wasn’t sweet, or too hot either, so I gulped it down. The sedative must have started working at once, because when I looked at her, her smile was as wide and weird as the Cheshire cat’s.
Thanks a lot, Rachel. My child has gone missing and you put me out of action. All right, it didn’t knock me out for that long, under an hour. But still. What the hell was in there? It can’t have been legal. But maybe someone else suggested it? Actually, Penny’s a nurse, isn’t she? It was probably her. Whoever it was, I’m angry. I should have been out there. Searching.
I was dimly conscious of people coming in and out of the room … Tasha, Tom. At one point the curtains were blowing around like crazy. Or was that the drug, too? I shake my head. I’m groggy, but things are clearing now. Tasha’s sitting beside me, telling me the exact order things happened in. I don’t know how I’d have got through this without her. But I wish she’d tell me faster.
‘So?’ I prompt. ‘Was there any sign? Of Ruby?’
‘I’m telling you, Mum. I ran down again to the water …’
‘All alone? With the storm coming? Oh, Tasha!’
‘No, no, in fact, Dad and Raf were with me.’
‘And?’ I prompt. ‘What did you see? Anything? Anything at all?’
Tasha gives me a look and I try to calm down, fight the panic. She starts again. ‘So, everyone was out on the hills by this stage. It’s funny, you can see people much more clearly from the top, and the bottom. But when you’re in the middle … you’re sort of the filling in the sandwich. Hidden …’ She realises that it’s not the moment to find the island droll. Not when I’m thinking it’s my mortal foe, the cause of my loss … but I’m doing my best to hold it together. Tasha may seem like an adult sometimes, but I can’t burden her with my emotions which, at this point, are frankly raging.
‘Well, we decided to follow the path all the way round. And that’s when we found it.’
I’m leaning forward again now, despite my bone-weariness, the heaviness of my head and legs. ‘What?’
‘Ruby’s little backpack. You know, that one she drags round everywhere …’ Tasha glances away. I know her eyes are filled with tears. I know, because mine are too. I swallow a few times before I get it out. ‘The one with the unicorns?’ Now she gulps, and nods.
Time passes before she can take up the thread again. She’s adopted a business-like tone, which makes her young voice seem suddenly harsh. ‘So we went straight on up again. I mean … she wasn’t there.’ We both look at each other, eyes wide. The horror is getting closer. The horror that we still don’t want to talk about.
‘What did Daddy do next? Surely he called someone? The coastguard … the local police? Somebody,’ I say, trying to keep my voice steady.
‘He tried, of course he did. The landline is out … the storm, you know? And we couldn’t get a signal with the mobiles, Mum. We tried. We really tried.’
Now I’m patting her back, trying to comfort her, while my mind whirrs. ‘Did you see anyone else? While you were doing all this?’
She shrugs, almost silhouetted now by the windows. ‘There were people around, yes. We bumped into that Roderick, Rachel’s new brother …’
‘Stepson,’ I correct her absently. It hardly matters, now of all times, but I’d still hate my daughter to say the wrong thing. It’s an easy mistake, Rachel and Roderick are about the same age. In a less topsy-turvy world, they really could have been stepsiblings.
‘And erm, Penny, too. I even saw Rachel out there.’
‘Rachel? Really?’ I suppose I should be glad she was worried enough to venture out. ‘Did you speak to her?’
‘Just for a second. She said she was going to check on deliveries.’
‘Deliveries? Wait, you mean there’s some sort of warehouse down there?’
‘No, it’s just a boathouse. Where they tie up the ferry boat and store supplies.’
‘I didn’t even know there was a boat,’ I murmur, though I suppose Jane used it last night. A second later, I’ve finally mustered the strength to fling the covers back and get out of bed. The first step sees me lurch and nearly fall. I put out an arm and Tasha catches me. She wants to steer me back down, but I shake her off, get my shoes on. Luckily I was fully dressed when Rachel gave me that Mickey Finn.
God, it’s getting dark already, and my girl is still out there. The view would be spectacular, if I could give it a moment of my attention. Clouds are being thrown across the sky as the wind pushes the waves ever higher.
I rush out into the corridor, and run straight into the person I want to see least in the world. Tom.
Chapter 27
Tom
Mount Tregowan, 31st October
I can’t believe Gita sometimes. She’s crashed out all afternoon – no fault of her own I suppose – then gets an idea and doesn’t for a second think that I will have already searched that fuc
king boat shed. Twice, three times, maybe four. What the hell does she think I’ve been doing?
There isn’t a structure on this island I haven’t scoured. The chapel, next to the walled garden. I’ve been over it like fucking Hercule Poirot on speed. Nothing. The two outhouses at the back of the castle, full of pots and gardening shit. Nothing. Then the castle itself. Ruby doesn’t usually pull this kind of stunt – but what child wouldn’t want to play hide-and-seek in a castle?
‘She’s too much of a wuss to have gone anywhere dark or creepy.’ Nessie shrugged, when I ran up to her.
‘Come on, Nessie. Now, of all times?’ I said through gritted teeth. She pretended she didn’t know what I meant. But the later it gets, the more the whole island seems dark and creepy, even to me.
I haven’t got time for this, I’m exasperated and exhausted. But of course I can’t give up, nor rest. What I don’t need is my bloody wife trying to second-guess my efforts. Well, thanks, Gita, but maybe I know Ruby better than you. Yes, you’re a great mother. But when do you have time to actually see the girls? Or listen to them, for that matter.
Of course, I’m not going to say all this to her now. But it’s coming, Gita. And soon. Now, I just throw my hands up in the air and stalk out again, into the increasingly ferocious wind.
I’m not a superstitious guy, but looking at the last of the daylight being blotted out by rolling inky clouds, I’m not going to lie, I feel a shiver that’s nothing to do with the temperature. I would make promises, to be better, to try harder. To turn things around. But we aren’t at that point yet. Are we?
Then Tasha bombs out of the front door, sliding to a halt as she sees me. Her face is a mask of worry, a younger version of her mother’s distress – even though I’m angry with Gita, I can see she’s not in her right mind now. Behind that, for a second, I see something else. But it’s gone.
Ah, here’s Raf loping along. Was he the shadow I saw? He’s been pretty good all afternoon. Useful. None of us wants to say it, but things can only get more difficult, as night really starts to fall. Soon we won’t be able to see our hands in front of our faces. He has a torch, and he’s passing another to Tasha. I put out my hand for it and she obediently hefts it over. I turn it on and the yellow beam makes the gravel look alive, an arc swinging up to the trees streaming to the left in the wind. I button my jacket up and feel more in control than I have for a while. ‘Right. Back down and up again? Another circuit?’
The kids nod dumbly, then Raf speaks up. ‘Shall we go round the other way to you? That way we’ll cover the lot between us.’
It’s not a bad strategy. I agree, and we set off, the youngsters peeling away on the sloping path. I look grimly down at the steep steps. How many times have I been up and down them already? I shake my head, and start to shout. ‘Ruby? Can you hear me?’
Over on the other path, I hear the almost-echo as Raf and Tasha take up the call. ‘Ruby? Where are you, Ruby?’ The wind snatches Tasha’s voice but Raf’s is good and deep and strong. She must hear that at least. She must. She must hear us.
Where are you, Ruby? Where are you?
Chapter 28
Vicky
Mount Tregowan, 31st October
This escalated so fast. Tiresome kids’ game, to every parent’s absolute worst nightmare, in under two hours. While Rachel’s island has morphed from billionaire’s playground to prison-cum-death trap.
God, Ruby has certainly upstaged her big sisters. No mean feat when one is as beautiful as Tasha and the other as strange as Ness. I’m a wreck, and I don’t even want to think about poor Gita. A little girl, missing, on an island. Where someone almost brained me this morning. And a girl who, it turns out, can’t even swim.
There must have been a moment, this morning, when that bloody causeway was open and escape was possible. We should have run when we could. I was probably clutching my head and groaning at the time, or sleeping it off. We really missed our chance. As a very minor plus, all this has banished the last of my hangover.
I dread to think what I’d be like, if it was nine-year-old Raf missing. At that age, he was such a confident little lad. I tried never to take my eyes off him, while pretending he was free as a bird.
I stop myself – I don’t want to be that person. But an unsupervised non-swimmer? That’s two counts against Gita already. And she’s been zonked out, while the rest of us have raged around the island – but I suppose people deal with stress in different ways.
Anyway, I’m glad Raf has risen to the occasion. I’m in my room, resting from the search, and I’ve just spotted him from the window, going off with Tom and Tasha to scour the grounds again. They’ve been tireless.
Where can the bloody girl have got to? And I’ve only caught sight of Rachel once this afternoon. I can’t help thinking that if one of my guests was missing, I’d maybe stick my head out of my turret and have a little look. But I suppose we’ve got all the servants, not to mention Roderick and Penny, wandering about yelling. It’s hardly been the tranquil break we were promised. No sign of Ross either. I don’t even want to think about why he might be exhausted.
Maybe Rachel is fuming because her treasure hunt got upstaged. No one seems to have found any of the numbers, which is weird. Oh well, perhaps she’ll tell us more at the dinner tonight. Or will it be cancelled if Ruby …? God, this whole thing has killed my appetite. And that’s a feat in itself.
Hang on, there’s a commotion down below. I stick my head out of my door and there’s Gita in the corridor, upright, but looking like death on a stick, poor love. We look at each other. ‘Something’s just happened, hasn’t it?’ she says fearfully. ‘Have they … Have they found her?’
We run to the head of the stairs, look down below. Thanks to the high ceilings it’s a long way and it’s already dusk. I can’t make much out but there’s a kerfuffle, for sure.
I can see the pale pearl-grey uniforms of some of the staff. They’re milling about … Are they dragging something? Looks like a tarpaulin. Gita lurches forward. I instinctively put my arm across the stair. Then I realise I can’t stop her. She needs to be down there. I let her go first and we both run.
At the bottom, it’s pandemonium. Everyone seems to be clustered around: Tom, the girls, Raf looming over everyone. When did he get so tall, my lad? Behind him is little Roderick and wait, there’s Penny. Normally she’s so hesitant, but now she shoves her way through.
‘I’m a nurse, let me get to her.’ People melt out of the way. Gita, on my side of the crowd, tries to barge through as well but she’s less successful. Tom blocks her way, tries to take her in his arms, but she beats him off, fists pummelling. ‘Let me see, let me see … Is she …?’ She can’t bear to say it and I can’t bear to hear it either. I’m on the edges of the group now, but I want to bury my head, not push to the front. I don’t want to see Ruby, that little monkey, still and grey in death.
A silence falls as Penny gets to work, rustling the tarpaulin away. It sounds as though she’s shifting the girl, turning her … Amazing that so many people can make so little noise. Even the stones of the ancient castle seem to be waiting, waiting. Then, there it is, a little spluttering cough – and a collective sigh. I feel the emotion at some deeper level before I understand it consciously. She’s alive. My chest heaves. I hadn’t even realised I was holding my breath.
The sea of bodies parts and I see her, the little figure like a doll, a starfish on the tarpaulin. Bedraggled hair. Lots of, what is that? Cobwebs, I think. And she seems to be wearing an adult’s jacket, wet through. But, thank God, her face is working, she’s sobbing. She’s never looked so ugly but so beautiful. Even Penny, kneeling by her side, no longer looks neurotic and middle-aged, but like a penitent who’s received God’s grace, so radiant is the smile she bestows on us all.
‘I don’t get it – was she in the water?’ I say to the person next to me. It turns out to be Tom. I take a step away, wishing I hadn’t spoken. He’ll be too caught up to answer. Who else would know what’
s been going on?
Suddenly I hear Rachel’s voice. A few of us look up. She’s gliding down the stairs, in another of those silken gowns that would look stupid on anyone else. She flicks a switch and suddenly the hall is flooded with light. ‘Cobwebs all over your hair, Ruby? And what’s that in your hand?’
I crane to look. Christ … She’s right, Ruby’s clutching some sort of old knife. Like a letter opener … but posher.
‘Looks like our Ruby found the priest’s hole in our chapel, and thought she’d take a little souvenir. The Tregowan dagger, no less.’ There’s more than a hint of annoyance in Rachel’s voice. She’s definitely unamused by Ruby’s escapade. I’m not the only one who bristles.
‘She could have died!’ It’s Gita, stepping towards her, fists bunched, face red. It may be the first time in history she has openly confronted Rachel.
‘Died? I don’t think so. Isn’t it more that everyone got into a bit of a panic? Completely understandable, of course.’ The caveat doesn’t take the sting out of Rachel’s words one bit. ‘She’s absolutely fine!’ She descends the final stair, turns to the prone figure and her voice goes sing-song, artificial. ‘Aren’t you fine, Ruby honey?’
Now she actually swishes over. Everyone steps back. She towers over the girl, then bends gracefully to pull Ruby into a sitting position at last and then, most audaciously of all, scoops her into a hug, prising the ornamental dagger away from her. Gita, who has been holding back as any mother would, wary of broken bones, convulsions, complications, gives Rachel a look I’ve never seen on a human face before.
