Horror in the Highlands

by Alison Golden

  Perhaps, Annabelle thought, with growing consternation, life on the island was not as simple and predictable as she had presumed.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Sunday Morning

  AS IF SUCCUMBING to the Reverend’s wishes, Sunday morning saw the sun rise in a clear blue sky, banishing the ominous rain clouds of the previous day. The distinctly Scottish northern light poured down like positive wishes upon the unusually rather punctual crowd who attended her service. The sun’s rays, however, were not quite strong enough to chase away the extreme chilliness that hung in the air, and it was noted by more than a few of the congregation that the church, crowded and small, was probably one of the warmest places to be on this Sunday morning.

  It was standing room only in the church. The small sea of faces gazed intently at Annabelle as she took her place at the front. Many of them were smiling back at her, happy to have the novelty of a different minister grace their Sunday communion. Every pew was full. Bottoms large and small were packed tightly next to each other along the full length of each row. Against the side and back walls and even in the church entrance, between the inner and outer door, stood yet more people, all eager to hear what their visiting clergywoman had to say.

  As she began her sermon, Annabelle felt a brief wave of anxiety quickly dissipate as she noticed nods of approval from the audience. Spurred by murmurs of support, Annabelle delivered an address she was rather proud of, and when the time came to sing hymns, the crowd’s soaring enthusiasm inside the clifftop church was enough to be heard for miles around. They sang, proud and true, to impress their temporary minister, to celebrate the Lord in his almighty wisdom. And because it would keep them warm.

  “In Christ be the glory, Amen.” Annabelle concluded.

  “Amen,” chimed the congregation.

  “Thank you all for coming today,” Annabelle concluded. “I’m so happy to see so many of you here. Please, enjoy the rest of your Sunday. I’ll see some of you at Evensong, no doubt.”

  At her words Harry Anderson, once more in his Highland dress, suddenly leaped up from his pew at the back, gathered his set of bagpipes, and began blowing a slow, droning melody. Annabelle gazed at the man, then across the faces of the congregation who seemed completely accustomed to the turn of events. Slowly, they began standing to make their way out of the church.

  Annabelle walked down the aisle behind the bagpiper. Roger and Bonnie quickly followed, anticipating the crush of locals that were about to descend upon her. After telling Annabelle that lunch was planned for one o’clock, Roger took Bonnie home, accompanied by other locals who were heading in the same direction. To get to Roger’s house, it was necessary to pass by the pub, and it was just about opening time. There was quite a crowd joining them on their walk.

  As they left the kirk, many of the congregation introduced themselves or refreshed Annabelle’s memory about their previous meetings and attendances at her services. Invitations aplenty were proffered for Annabelle to visit and partake in tea and Dundee cake. Everyone took their time, preferring to exchange gossip and chit-chat as they slowly ambled through the large doors of the church into the brisk but bright outdoors.

  “Very good, er, what do you want us to call you again?” said an old man who walked with a limp.

  “Annabelle, Reverend Annabelle, or just plain old Vicar, please.”

  “Thank you for doing this, Vicar.”

  “You’re very welcome,” Annabelle said, still slightly distracted by the red-haired bagpiper who had now posted himself by the outer door and was serenading the congregation very loudly and squeakily as they left the church.

  “I suppose you’re not used to that down south,” the old man said, noticing the look she shot in the direction of the wailing. “It’s an island tradition. Harry always blows the pipes after the service is finished. Wherever he is, he goes to church, and pipes everyone out afterward.

  “I see,” Annabelle said. “He’s certainly got a big personality.”

  “Oh yes,” an elderly woman laughed. She stood next to the old man in a blue silk headscarf. Her thick grey coat looked like it had been made from horsehair. “The only thing bigger than Harry on this island is his reputation!”

  “Well, thank you for coming,” Annabelle said, shaking their hands sincerely. “I hope to see you again next year.”

  “At our age, you can’t make that kind of promise, Vicar. How about we see you down the pub in a few minutes?”

  The bagpiper abruptly stopped his playing and strode over to the Annabelle with a big smile on his face. “Och, that was the best time I’ve had in this church since there was a wild cat on the loose and everyone stood on the pews screaming their heads off. Wonderful service! Ha!” he said, the bagpipes to his chest once more. He shook Annabelle’s hand vigorously.

  Annabelle chuckled. “Thank you. I hope it wasn’t too cold!”

  “Och no!” the man replied. “Do you do those kinds of services down south?”

  “Pretty much,” she replied, gently trying to pull her hand from the man’s grasp.

  “Well, come on by the pub sometime, lass. You obviously like a bit of a sing-song so you’ll have a great time. Our ditties are a little more near the knuckle than these hymns here, though!”

  “Thank you,” Annabelle said. “I’ll certainly try and pop along sometime if I get the chance.”

  “Aye,” said the man, nodding and smiling as he walked off. “There’ll be a free drink waiting for you at the bar when you do, Vicar!” He hefted his bag higher under his arm and pursed his lips to take the chanter in his mouth. He started blaring tunelessly once again. Annabelle watched him go, wondering if the wild cat had taken refuge in his bagpipes until her thoughts were interrupted by a woman behind her.

  “Ignore him,” she said. She was blonde and middle-aged, and she tightly clutched a large leather purse. “He’s as mad as a hatter.”

  Annabelle laughed once again as she shook the woman’s hand.

  “It’s certainly lively up here!” she said.

  “Lively, yes…” the woman sighed, before turning away. “The last thing I want on an island like this. I moved here for the quiet, more fool me!”

  The woman moved on and Annabelle turned to face the stragglers coming out of the church behind her.

  “Thanks very much.”

  “Lovely service, Vicar.”

  “Bit nippy out here, isn’t it?”

  Another elderly gentlemen, white-haired and wearing what looked suspiciously like brown tartan slippers, gave Annabelle a perfunctory handshake but didn’t meet her gaze. He walked away, muttering something she couldn’t quite make out before stopping abruptly.

  “Flowers!” he shouted, punching the air. “Too many flowers!”

  “Don’t mind him, lassie,” a red-cheeked woman who was standing behind him said. She looked like she’d worked outside all her life, judging by the leathery, wrinkled condition of her skin. Her eyes sparkled, however. “That’s Mr. Mulherron. He’s high church,” she added, as if that explained everything.

  Many of the conversations went like this, the islanders keen to espouse their long-held views on the church service, the weather, the price of meat, all delivered with a moan, a wry grin, and a glance skyward. Annabelle was held captive until they’d all said their piece. It was a full thirty minutes before the last of the churchgoers said their goodbyes and went about their Sundays. Still, Annabelle was able to build a good rapport with many of them and gain a sense of the collage of personalities and views that made up the population of Blodraigh. She certainly had plenty to recount to Philippa when she returned to Upton St. Mary – and it was still only the second day of her visit.

  CHAPTER TEN

  ANNABELLE BADE GOODBYE to the last member of the congregation, and still bearing a large smile, eased the door closed and weaved her way between the pews toward the back office. She planned to write a small note of thanks to Father Boyce.

  Thinking she was alone, Annabelle put her hand
out to catch hold of the office door handle. As she did so, she heard delicate, light footsteps behind her. Annabelle gasped and spun around quickly, half-expecting to find the aforementioned wild cat.

  “Felicity!” Annabelle said, as her heart slowed down to its natural rhythm. “You surprised me!”

  “Sorry, Vicar,” Felicity said in the polite, measured voice she reserved for adults.

  Felicity wore a warm, bright red coat and polished shoes. She was clutching something the size of a shoebox, wrapped in thick, worn cloth.

  “I’m sorry, I had completely forgotten we had arranged a meeting,” Annabelle said. “It’s been a rather a hectic morning.”

  “It was a good service,” Felicity replied, smiling.

  “Why, thank you, Felicity,” Annabelle replied, once again taken aback by the grace and manners of the young girl. Annabelle’s eyes flickered over the mysterious package Felicity held in front of her, and she gestured toward the back room. “Shall we go to the office then? You can tell me all about whatever this secret is in there.”

  Annabelle opened the door to allow Felicity through, took one last look to make sure there were no other people left in the church, and closed the door behind them. Annabelle elected to stand beside the desk, where Felicity had placed her wrapped package.

  “Now then,” Annabelle said, looking down at Felicity and folding her arms, “what’s this all about?”

  Felicity breathed deeply, gathering the strength to explain herself. She opened her mouth to say something, but instead looked down at the table top. With her long, slim fingers she carefully pulled aside the cloth to reveal a wooden box with an elegant brass catch and an intricate swirling pattern inlaid in the lid. The wood appeared to be walnut. Annabelle’s eyes widened. It looked like a jewelry box, and an antique, expensive one at that. If the box itself were so pretty and aged, Annabelle could only guess at how valuable the contents inside it might be. Felicity turned to her with an uncertain expression as if she half-expected the Reverend to admonish her for revealing something so surprisingly lavish.

  “Felicity, what is this?” Annabelle asked tentatively.

  “I found it on Thursday when I was playing at the abandoned house,” Felicity said, her tone more abashed than Annabelle had ever heard it.

  “The abandoned house?” Annabelle asked.

  “The one that Bonnie wanted us to show you yesterday. My aunt doesn’t allow me to play inside it. I shouldn’t have been there.”

  “Oh?”

  “It’s supposed to be haunted.”

  “Ah,” Annabelle said. “Tell me what happened then.”

  Felicity took another deep breath, gazing over Annabelle’s left shoulder as she thought back.

  “I was with Lynn and Kelly – Bonnie has her piano lessons on Thursday afternoons. We were bored, and we hadn’t been to the house in such a long time.”

  “What’s this house like?” Annabelle asked, sitting now. She leaned forward on the desk.

  “It’s just an empty house. Most of the windows are smashed and the door is just hanging off its hinges. Inside it’s not too bad. It’s damp and moldy, but there’s still a sofa and some tables. There’s nothing interesting about it, but we get fed up with playing outside all the time. So we went there to play house.”

  “I see,” Annabelle said.

  “Anyway,” Felicity continued, “Kelly and Lynn were downstairs in the kitchen. I went to the bedroom. I was just looking around, and I noticed it.”

  “The box?”

  “No, the floor. One of the floorboards looked a bit crooked. I stepped on it, and it moved. I pulled at it, and there it was,” Felicity said, nodding toward the box. “In a little hole. Like a secret compartment. I showed the other girls. Of course, they got scared. They thought it was some kind of ghost’s treasure, but I convinced them it wasn’t. Anyway, we agreed I should hold onto it until we found an adult who could take care of it.”

  Annabelle pursed her lips. She wasn’t sure that Felicity had done the right thing by removing the box, but at the same time, she understood the girl’s concern.

  “I thought I could trust you, since you’re Bonnie’s aunt and a minister. She’s always saying you’re good at solving mysteries and knowing the right thing to do, so I wanted to show this to you and ask you what you think I should do.”

  Annabelle smiled as she looked at this very serious child. She gently touched Felicity’s shoulder.

  “Of course,” Annabelle said quietly, “Thank you for placing your trust in me.”

  Felicity eyes glistened, and she put her finger to her lips as she looked down at the box again.

  “I think the best thing we can do for now is to store this away in the safe and have a think about it. Would that be a good idea?” Annabelle said.

  Felicity nodded.

  “But I’m wondering what’s inside?”

  Without waiting a second, Felicity extended her pale fingers once more and flicked the clasp. When she lifted the lid, it was as if a light had turned on inside the room such was the brilliance of the objects inside.

  “Heavens!” Annabelle exclaimed, leaning backward in astonishment.

  Inside the box was a myriad of the most exquisite jewelry Annabelle had ever seen. They were all mixed haphazardly together in a mass of glinting jewels and smooth precious metals. It was like looking inside a pirate’s treasure chest. The allure of the items was so powerful that for a moment, both forgot themselves and slowly delved their hands into the box to touch its contents.

  Felicity pulled out a bracelet of remarkably polished and perfectly round pearls, while Annabelle unhesitatingly went for the diamond necklace that shone the brightest. She was hypnotized for a few moments by the dance of light across its skillfully cut edges as she held it up to the small, barred window in the office.

  “These are extraordinary!” Annabelle said in a whisper.

  “I know,” Felicity echoed, the pearl bracelet loose on her tiny wrist.

  Annabelle turned her attention back toward the box, which though only a handful of inches wide, seemed to contain an ocean of sights. Her eyes scanned an emerald pendant, then a pair of ruby earrings. She noticed an elegant gold chain with tiny, tightly knit links, and then a bracelet with amethyst gems interlaid in gold. Still in a trance-like state, she began taking each item out of the box and laying them carefully on the table. Felicity looked at her, confusion written on her face.

  “Um,” Annabelle said, “Since we’re going to secure these away, perhaps I should take some pictures. We might be able to find out more about them.”

  Felicity nodded and helped Annabelle as she arranged the objects on the bare table. Annabelle stood to pull out her phone and began taking photos.

  “Oh fiddlesticks!” she said, after a dozen attempts. “I’ve never been good with phones. All these pictures are completely out of focus!”

  Felicity craned her neck to see them, before holding out her hand demurely in a gesture of help. Annabelle handed her phone over automatically.

  After a few dexterous swipes, Felicity began snapping away, angling the phone with all the composure of a professional. Annabelle leaned over her shoulder to peer at what she was doing.

  “Excuse me, Reverend,” Felicity said, coolly. “You’re in the light.”

  “Oh yes,” Annabelle said, quickly stepping backward. “Please, carry on.”

  Within a minute, Felicity handed the phone back to Annabelle, who looked at the pictures with an appreciative smile, marveling to herself at what seven year-olds can do these days.

  “You’re quite the photographer, Felicity!”

  The girl shrugged shyly and gazed at her feet. “I enjoy taking pictures,” she offered.

  “Right,” Annabelle said, carefully placing the jewelry back into the box and snapping it shut, “let’s put this away.” She wrapped the cloth carefully around the box once again. “These are obviously terribly valuable,” Annabelle said, digging around in her cassock for Father
Boyce’s notebook. “We need to find out who they belong to.” After a few more moments rummaging around, Annabelle finally found what she was looking for. After consulting the notebook she had extracted from her cassock’s depths, she turned the dial to open the safe.

  Felicity frowned as she watched Annabelle secure the jewelry box carefully inside the steel case.

  “Do you think I was right to take them?” she asked. “Perhaps I should take them back to the abandoned house. The owner might come for them.”

  Annabelle locked up the safe, and after hanging her vestments up, dressed for the walk home.

  “I don’t think so,” Annabelle said, tugging on her wooly hat. “You did the right thing, Felicity. There’s a story behind that box, and I’m determined to find out what it is.”

  “What do you mean?” the girl asked.

  “Well,” Annabelle said, as they left the office, “if you had a box of such pretty jewelry, where would you keep it?”

  Felicity answered quickly. “In my dresser.”

  “Precisely,” Annabelle said, as she shut the office door, “I would keep them under my bed. I imagine anyone you asked would answer similarly. The last place anyone would keep them is under the floor of an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere!”

  “Yes, you’re right,” Felicity said. “But then why are they there?”

  “The obvious conclusion is that they belonged to whomever lived in that abandoned house. Do you know who that was?”

  Felicity shrugged as Annabelle held the church door open for her.

  “No. It’s been empty for as long as I remember. A long time, I think.”

  “I see,” Annabelle said, stepping outside and pulling out the big, old-fashioned key and putting it in the keyhole. She jiggled it until it connected with the locking mechanism. “So it must have been there quite a long time. There’s also another possibility.”

  “What’s that?”

  Annabelle turned around and winced slightly as she breathed in the chilly air.