‘Lammastide,’ Emily was saying, ‘in the Anglo-Saxon “loaf-mass”, the first harvest festival of the year.’ In Orkney’s dark unforgotten days this festival had acquired its own sinister legend of the seal king and perhaps it was Faro’s ancestral link that added to the feeling of unease. However, an early riser unable to sleep after dawn, which never really happened in summer in Orkney, he was first down to breakfast.
In Yesnaby House, others shared his morning vigil.
A tall, blonde young man was working in the walled garden far below his bedroom window, while in the kitchen downstairs a pleasant-faced stout woman was moving briskly about with brush and bucket.
‘You must be Mrs Yesnaby’s father,’ she smiled, ‘the policeman from Edinburgh. We’ve heard a lot about you,’ she added darkly, intimating that none of it was beyond speculation. Curious to hear more he said:
‘And you must be Millie.’
‘That’s right. I like to make an early start before Mrs Yesnaby is up and about, gives me a clean sweep, with all these extra folk to take care of. Making up for a bit of lost time, so to say.’
Not quite the image his mother had presented of her assistant housekeeper, but that last remark opened the topic of Archie.
‘We gathered you were concerned about your son.’ He could hardly ask if he was better and framed the words more diplomatically: ‘Is all well now?’
Millie frowned. ‘Well as it will ever be. It’s this time of year, every year, he gets strange, goes off and spends hours sitting at the shoreline, watching the seals and hoping that …’ She paused and shook her head in embarrassment, ‘I expect you know the story. A whole lot of nonsense but there’s no convincing my Archie about that seal cull—’
‘So you’ve come back, Millie.’ Mary appeared at the door and said firmly, ‘You’ll find plenty to do, so I won’t delay you.’ In a changed tone, she came over to Jeremy, kissed him and said: ‘You’re up early.’ And patting his shoulder, observed, ‘A long lie would do you good. You should take the chance of it when you are on holiday.’
Although he had managed over the years to conceal feelings of irritation behind a mask of gentle teasing, he was annoyed at this interruption of a conversation with Millie that was just beginning to interest him. He wanted to know more about Archie, and Sibella’s alleged transformation into a seal and when exactly she had disappeared.
The rest of the family drifted in, including the gardener, introduced as Sven, who made short work of bacon, sausages and eggs prepared by Mary, who refused to let Millie lay a hand on the cooking beyond preparing vegetables; their skilful assembly into meals was Mary’s province, although Emily was permitted to bake in normal circumstances.
Despite the thick fog, Magnus was always happier out of doors, especially as he had a hoard of secret places to show Meg on the rocks, tiny caves and homes to various marine creatures. This was exactly what she liked most, the sort of adventures she never had at home, with Leith or Portobello the nearest sands, and as she said: ‘They’re all very well for picnics and bathing but there’s nothing there except ice cream.’
Faro and Rose were eager to seize the rare opportunity of being together, while Jack took the motor car with Emily into distant Kirkwall to get advice from a garage owner as she decided on its future.
‘I don’t drive and I don’t want to keep it at Yesnaby,’ she said sadly, ‘too many memories of Erland, remembering how he loved driving it around. Magnus will be disappointed, he is just longing to be old enough to drive.’
Jack laughed. ‘By the time he is ready for that, there will be many new models to choose from.’
‘Meanwhile it will just lie for years in the garage and get rusty and out of date. Perhaps it would be best to sell it, if we can get a buyer.’
Mary, too, had a future to be sorted out. The injury to her leg had left her with a permanent limp, an ache that she could not always conceal, and to Faro she was forced to admit, however unwillingly, that she could not always do things as fast as she once did.
‘Sometimes I feel my age,’ she said.
‘We all do, Ma,’ he said, putting a sympathetic arm around her thin shoulders. That was true even for him, and his mother at ninety had been trying to run Yesnaby like a woman of fifty.
‘And with Erland gone, I don’t see how Emily will want to stay – the house was always too big for three of them.’ She paused and said wistfully, ‘Y’know, Jeremy, what I would like is to go home again.’ She added firmly, ‘I know my little cottage would be far too small for them, but if Em sold Yesnaby, then we could maybe buy one of those big houses in Kirkwall,’ to which Faro only nodded, vaguely aware that his mother’s bright idea would never appeal to Emily. Without even discussing it with her, keeping Yesnaby – his family’s home for generations – at all costs was what Erland would have wanted, with Magnus to continue the tradition.
Deaths do more than break up homes and break hearts, he thought. They also destroy the foundations the family have built over the years, foundations each generation believe are firm and unshakeable. It just took one man’s unexpected and untimely death to make his kin realise the shifting sands of material things.
While they were deciding what to do next, Magnus and Meg rushed in with exciting news.
‘There’s a ship out there, Grandpa, and it seems to be heading this way.’
A ship heading for Hopescarth seemed unlikely, if not impossible, and Faro decided that it had got off course in the fog and would probably be making its way to Kirkwall.
Magnus shook his head. ‘We watched it for ages and it never moved. It seems to be anchored.’
‘They are probably waiting for the tide to turn,’ Faro replied and thought no more about it until the children returned from their fascinating vigil once more. The ship hadn’t moved. It was a mystery.
There was only one way to find out, get a closer look, and they followed him upstairs to Erland’s powerful telescope more used to consulting the planets at night, he guessed, than the sea’s horizon.
First glimpse revealed a large white yacht just offshore from the Castle of Yesnaby, and far too close inland. What was it doing anchored there? The acknowledged harbour for all sailing vessels, including yachts, was Kirkwall.
Was it in difficulties? Faro wondered.
Emily and Jack had returned from Kirkwall with the car’s future undecided and neither seemed greatly interested in an anchored yacht, although Emily stressed the dangers of coming so close inland: the sea around Yesnaby had treacherous undercurrents.
Of greater interest, however, when they had driven through Stromness, there was a festival with a funfair that afternoon, all of which seemed much more exciting now to the children, who greeted the prospect eagerly, all piling into the motor car, insisting that Grandpa came too. Faro enjoyed it more than he expected. The children’s delight and enthusiasm was irresistible and a family outing brought home to him with regret how much he had missed through the years.
‘Enjoying it, Pa?’ Rose said.
He took her hand. ‘So much, my dear, so very much,’ he added with a wistful sigh.
They didn’t return until very late that evening. The fog had descended on the coast road again and it was a long and wearisome drive homeward. Emily had met a couple with whom she shared a friendship dating from schooldays. Amy and her husband, Joe, had ten-year-old twins, and she insisted that they all drive back to her house beyond Kirkwall and have supper there, especially as the twins got on so well with Magnus. Meg might have been afraid of being left out but Betty soon proved to be yet another soulmate, especially as she had an aunty in Edinburgh who she visited in the holidays.
Fortunately Mary retired early. Always gloomy and pessimistic about travel of any kind, and particularly by the newfangled motor car, she was spared the anxiety of their late return.
The house was wreathed in a white shroud creeping up from the garden and they climbed the stairs hoping not to disturb her and be subject to an interrogation of endless question
s and speculation.
They had forgotten all about the yacht, and when they awakened to a sky that was endlessly blue, the sea once again innocent of anything to ruffle its calm, Faro, looking out of his bedroom window, saw that the yacht was still there. It had not moved from its original position, remaining anchored in the same place as yesterday.
The children had seen it too and bounded up to the top of the house, followed by Emily.
‘I hope we’re not intruding,’ she said with a sad glance at the powerful telescope. ‘This is where Erland spent hours every day, watching the horizon. Almost as if he was continually expecting visitors from abroad,’ she laughed, as Faro brought the vessel nearer through the telescope.
Now for the first time, in sharp focus, he could see it clearly.
‘Let me see, please, Grandpa,’ Magnus demanded. ‘It’s a yacht, just as we thought,’ he said, handing back the instrument reluctantly into Faro’s eager hands.
For the vessel was indeed a yacht. And a very special royal one. This was the Victoria and Albert III, commissioned by Queen Victoria. The third of its kind and famous as the first to be steam-driven instead of under sail, it had been completed in 1899, and was sensational enough to make headlines in the newspapers. But alas, it had been too late for Her Majesty, who died in 1901 without ever stepping on board. It now belonged to King Edward, an enthusiastic sailor, who had made several voyages to ports around the British Isles.
According to rumour Faro had heard via Imogen, the King also enjoyed private visits to some of the Irish nobility in County Cork. She had been invited aboard as a well-known writer, as well as an outstanding beauty. She had enjoyed the luxurious surroundings, the palatial stateroom as well as the first moving staircase – or elevator – to be installed on a ship, doubtless for the convenience of the elderly monarch. Imogen had also hinted at the flirtatious overtures made by the King of England and Faro was certain that her royal pardon had dated from that encounter with a monarch always susceptible to the charms of a lovely woman who was also highly intelligent.
Imogen had also told Faro that she had heard from one of her friends in the royal circle a whisper that this style of travel suited their host admirably. He enjoyed privacy from prying eyes and the yacht had soon been established as a suitable venue for many interesting cruises with his mistresses and the upper echelons of Britain’s aristocracy. Rumour also had it that the yacht could be discreetly hired for a private cruise by any who were in the millionaire category.
That it had found its way to the islands of Orkney was no big surprise: King Bertie enjoyed being at sea and every chance that took him far away from London gossip. Faro was already penning a letter to Imogen to tell her that she had perhaps missed another chance of a visit to the royal yacht by not coming with him to Orkney.
But there was something else. Screened by the cliffs and caves that had seen a fair amount of smuggling in the past, and probably still did but were ignored by those who benefited by illicit trades, was that why it had remained? Why had it anchored so close offshore from Stromness, when offshore from Kirkwall would have been equally effective?
Over breakfast, their curiosity aroused and with a constant flow upstairs to regard the yacht through Erland’s telescope, it was decided that it had only been waiting for better weather, and Emily, who knew about such things, said the afternoon tide would see it under way again. They certainly couldn’t waste time staring at it, but there was a frisson of excitement at having royalty so close at hand.
Moving or no, Faro’s frisson of excitement contained another factor. He was certain things were not as innocent as they seemed, and that, taking all things into consideration, there was a mystery here. He would keep an eye on the yacht with the excellent telescope at his command, with magnification so great that he could see any activity on the decks quite well. There seemed little more than the movements of smart-looking sailors going about their business, cleaning, polishing and so forth. The royal ensign wasn’t flying, although he thought there might be private reasons for that too. When he went down to eat with the family at midday and told his mother, she was quite disappointed.
‘Fancy wasting your morning watching like that,’ she said as if the King was personally responsible by remaining out of sight.
Faro stayed upstairs on the excuse of writing to Imogen. Rose joined him, equally intrigued by whatever was going on just a short distance across the water and sharing his vague suspicions.
Late that afternoon, they were rewarded by a flurry of activity. A small boat, rather opulent and grand to fit in the lifeboat category, was lowered from the deck to be seen by Faro carefully circling the anchored yacht. This new activity also included some well-dressed yachtsmen as well as uniformed sailors looking down from the decks and staring at the sea. There was obviously some argument as they anxiously gesticulated to one another, suggesting something more serious than a delay due to engine trouble.
Faro handed the telescope to Rose. ‘That’s more than a boat out to do a little fishing or take out some keen swimmers.’
Rose frowned. ‘Looking for seals or dolphins? Maybe spotted a whale.’
Faro shook his head. The watchers, even seen distantly albeit magnified, conveyed anxiety rather than mere curiosity. ‘More like a man overboard they’re searching for.’
Footsteps on the stairs. ‘Come on, Mam,’ said Meg excitedly, ‘we’re all ready, waiting for you.’
Rose groaned. Jack was boarding the ship for Leith the following day, no more excuses to linger, and he had promised them a picnic.
‘You too, Grandpa,’ said Meg as he made no move. ‘You must come!’ That reproachful look struck an unhappy chord from the past, with Rose and Emily promised an outing and, when police activities intervened, handed over to Mrs Brook, substitute for a seldom-seen father.
He saw Rose watching him, her wry smile, and he realised she was remembering too. Following them downstairs with Meg clutching his hand and chatting eagerly, the yacht was temporarily forgotten. Despite that much publicised new steam power they had possibly been delayed by some minor technical problem. The anxious looks he had observed on the deck among the crew undoubtedly due to the fact that delays of any kind, minor problems to ordinary folk, brought forth bouts of extreme irritation and anger to royal personages. In this case, he expected they were merely awaiting the afternoon tide, and would be far away by evening, taking the reason for their mysterious visit with them.
Days were precious here with his family and Faro could not afford to ‘waste time’, as his mother had called it, building on a mystery that never was, as he and Rose were quite capable of doing. Nevertheless, it would make an interesting bit of news in his letter to Imogen.
When they returned, happy and tired from the sheltered strand, which had included bathing and sandcastles for the children and deckchair dozing in warm sunshine for the adults, the yacht was still anchored with what they had assumed was the lifeboat patrolling round it. As dusk fell and became what passed for darkness, Faro retreated once more to his vigil by the telescope.
While the others played card games and read downstairs, Rose joined him. ‘What’s happening, Pa?’
‘Not a great deal. That lifeboat we saw earlier has just been hauled back on board. They had lanterns this time and whatever they were looking for was of considerable interest, not only to the crew but to a lot of the passengers too. Easy to spot from this telescope – men in evening dress, and a couple of ladies.’
Rose had a look. ‘Well, they’re not there now. No lights, all in darkness again.’
Faro nodded. ‘I’ve been watching them and those lanterns were extinguished so quickly it suggested that what was happening around the yacht was not for casual observation.’
‘Or need of help?’ Rose frowned. ‘What do you think is going on on board that is so secret? Is HM doing a bit of smuggling, perhaps?’
Faro laughed. ‘That is highly unlikely. He has the power of access to anything that takes his fa
ncy. I shouldn’t imagine he’s awaiting a consignment of silks and rare French brandy.’
‘Not smugglers, then?’
Faro shook his head. ‘No. And I am beginning to think there is another answer to our little mystery.’
‘You mean because the King is not on board.’
‘Exactly. Imogen was friendly with some of the higher echelons and although she met the King only once, she was told that occasionally HM lent the yacht to minor royals or to close friends – if they could afford it.’
Perhaps that was the discreet answer, but the business with the lifeboat hinted at something deeper: a mystery and an irresistible itch to them both.
Awakened at dawn by the noise of seabirds nesting nearby, their raucous young demanding food, Faro decided to have a quick look through the telescope.
To his surprise, Jack and Rose were already seated at the great window.
Jack turned and grinned. ‘Rose had me awake half the night with her speculations about the mystery yacht. The damned noisy birds did the rest. Anyway, my ship doesn’t leave Kirkwall until midday, so I thought I’d have a look and add my contribution.’
Rose said: ‘They haven’t moved, Pa, but there’s been a lot of activity. That lifeboat has been out again, going round the yacht as if it’s searching for something.’ She paused and Jack looked gravely at him as she added, ‘Or someone. Do you know what we think, Pa? Someone’s gone overboard and that’s why the yacht has been delayed and why that boat was out last night with lanterns and patrolling again this morning.’ Jack looked at Faro, smiled and raised his eyes heavenward. He had seen this kind of reaction many times living with Rose. It was the same for both men, although her father was more in sympathy. Rose was always sharp and what she couldn’t fill in by logical reasoning, just as Faro employed deduction, she would use imagination or even intuition, most frequently to excellent effect.
Jack said somewhat grudgingly, Faro thought, ‘The fact that the yacht is still there, anchored so close to the shore, and with that boat searching round, certainly does suggest a man overboard. But if that was the case, if there had been an accident like that twenty-four hours ago and they couldn’t cope with it by getting him safely aboard again …’ He paused and added thoughtfully, ‘If there was any doubt that he had drifted away, surely they would have found means to notify the coastguard and get a rescue boat out as speedily as possible. I imagine they have a good telegraph system, all the very latest equipment installed on a newly built royal yacht.’
The Darkness Within Page 5
