My cheeks still burning with shame, I headed for the terminal exit.
Scotland welcomed me exactly as I had feared—with rain. And not just any kind of rain. The water pouring down reminded me of a showerhead turned to “Massage.” I would have been fascinated by the eerie sight of the control tower, which pointed to the storm clouds with a bright-blue fist—fascinated under different circumstances, that is, beneath a starry sky and in temperatures appropriate to my clothing. The damp air, smelling of soil and exhaust fumes, penetrated my blazer within seconds. Shivering, I pulled the zip up to my chin.
It was at that moment that I realised I had never travelled by myself before. I felt lost and incredibly lonely, like a pebble in a stream of humanity, innumerable bodies swirling around me, chins down, hurrying to taxis or the car park. Rather than heeding Deborah’s suggestion and heading straight to the buses, I retreated to a sheltered alcove next to the exit door. Two men in work clothes stood there, smoking. I turned my back to them and sat down on my suitcase. So this was where my journey was going to end. I squinted into the rain and swallowed hard. No, I told myself. You can’t burst into tears now.
Maybe this was how it was supposed to be. First the horrible flight, and then the humiliation at the car rental counter. How could I even start looking for Charlie without a car? And now, this torrential rain. Omens. Scotland was showing me the door.
The men stomped out their cigarettes and climbed into a white van that pulled out with a screech and manoeuvred past a row of waiting taxis. A blue Vauxhall approached far too fast and stopped right in front of the covered crossing. A slender woman with curly red hair got out and looked around. Her freckled face lit up with a radiant smile as she waved.
“Aidan, over here!” she called in a strong voice, as if she were used to talking at that volume. It was deeper than I would have expected of such a delicate woman.
The man strode towards her casually, collar turned up, as if out for a stroll on a balmy spring evening. Remaining seated on my suitcase, I rolled myself deeper into the alcove to avoid being seen, and almost fell when my vehicle caught on a loose cobblestone. I righted myself, straightened my skirt, and caught the eye of a grinning taxi driver.
Meanwhile, Aidan Murray had reached the redhead, who locked him in a boisterous embrace. Was it Jennifer? Maisie? No, according to his call, it wouldn’t be Maisie’s turn until the day after tomorrow.
He opened the boot of the car and tossed in his bag. I held my breath as he glanced in my direction for a moment before closing the boot.
“Let’s go, Vicky.” He tapped on the top of the car and got in. The engine roared to life.
Vicky. Number four in Murray’s harem if you counted Candy Dee. I snorted and decided to write Aidan Murray off once and for all.
I looked back into the terminal. My best bet would probably be to hop on the next plane back to Frankfurt, even though the thought made me nauseous. On the other hand . . . I turned and looked at the Vauxhall’s disappearing taillights. I was here, wasn’t I? Assuming my assistant hadn’t messed up, a pleasant room awaited me in a trendy Edinburgh hotel, where I was sure to find both warm water and a minibar.
I pulled out the envelope with the reservation even though, thanks to Mama, I already knew the name and address by heart. Once she had understood that nothing could keep me from going on this trip, she’d wanted to know exactly where I was staying. She’d called me twice about it and, displaying a maternal anxiety that was not like her at all, had made me spell out the necessary information. Eden Rock Lodge. Sounded promising.
The grinning taxi driver nodded and beckoned me over.
I had never been one to give up easily. Never. Why should I start now? I could always ask my mother to have my driver’s licence sent to the hotel. What else was express mail for? I would await the delivery in the cushy hotel lobby, comfortably ensconced in front of the fireplace, with a cup of Earl Grey and a good book. Or I could go shopping and take in the sights of Edinburgh.
I lifted my chin and recalled my grandmother’s words—“But of course, the choice, dear Josefine, is yours to make.”
“I won’t disappoint you,” I whispered, and imagined her stern expression morphing into the smile that had always made me feel special as a little girl.
I hurried to the taxi as fast as my pumps could carry me.
4
Jonathan Fraser had lived in Edinburgh all his life and, if you believed him, had driven a taxi for just as long.
“Just as ma father and his father,” he assured me.
When Jonathan laughed, he pulled on his blond beard as if he wanted to stretch it straight. This would have been impossible, since his beard was as unruly as the curly hair that peaked out from under his thick woollen cap.
“Alpaca?” I asked.
“Virgin wool, miss. From good Highland sheep, of course.”
“Of course.” I grinned, looking at him in the mirror. He had rosy cheeks and a bulbous nose that was crisscrossed by tiny veins.
“So what do you do on your days off?”
I didn’t usually make small talk with strangers, but it was already dark and all that was visible through the rain-battered windows were the brown silhouettes of buildings and the gleam of blurred traffic lights—it could have been any city out there. Admiring the sights of Edinburgh was not an option at the moment.
“You really want to know?” Jonathan sought my eyes in the rear-view mirror. “Usually, tourists want me to tell them a bit about the city. As a rule, they’re not interested in the driver.”
“Well, then, I’m not a normal tourist.”
“I saw you.” He briefly turned his head. I could see a row of teeth edged in brown. “You were lookin’ quite lost sitting there on your suitcase.”
“And you didn’t answer my question.”
His booming laugh sounded like a poorly tuned contrabass.
“My real vocation is that of a storyteller.”
“A storyteller? But that’s not an actual occupation, is it?”
“It is in Scotland.” He winked at me. “A well-paid one at that if ya find the right location.”
“Like where?” I leaned forward.
“Have you ever heard of the subterranean corridors in Mary King’s Close? In that old district of our city, all kinds of curious things are afoot.” He hissed quietly.
“You tell ghost stories?” I laughed, but suddenly felt uneasy. “And people actually pay for such nonsense?”
“I wouldn’t call it nonsense,” Jonathan said with a mysterious air. “Not at all. As the saying goes, there are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy. For us Scots, just because they’re in a story doesn’t mean ghosts don’t exist.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Is there any scientific proof of what’s supposedly happening at Mary King’s Close?”
“Aye. There are eyewitness accounts,” Jonathan said seriously.
“Ah. And what exactly have these people seen?”
“A tall lady in a long black garment. An old man with a sad face who fades into the walls. And a little girl who plays with dolls left for her by tourists from all over the world.”
The taxi left the paved road, rambled along over cobblestones, and came to a halt soon after. I peeked out of the window and saw that we were in a cul-de-sac with a grassy side strip and a few parked cars.
“Where are we?” My heart raced. Had I got into the wrong taxi?
“Hadfast Road is a dead-end street. Over there is a path that leads you to Eden Rock Lodge. It’s no more than a hundred yards from here.” Jonathan glanced at my shoes. “It’s not the most comfortable accommodation you’ve selected.”
“Looks like it,” I said, silently cursing my assistant.
“Do you have an umbrella?” He didn’t even wait for an answer before reaching into the glove compartment and handing me a collapsible one.
“You’re an angel.”
“Sometimes that, too.” He started t
he car with a grin.
I got half out of the car, but then slid back into my seat. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to offend you before, Jonathan. I am sure you tell wonderful fairy tales.”
“They aren’t fairy tales.” He frowned.
“I know. There are eyewitness reports.”
“So you don’t believe in the supernatural at all? What about fate? What about coincidences that are really no such thing?”
“Guess I’ve seen too much to still believe in fate.”
“Oh, is that right?” Jonathan gave me a pitying look over his shoulder. “We Scots believe that reality is always intertwined with matters we cannot explain. That makes quite a few things easier—not to have to feel so guilty when things turn out different from what you expected.”
“Sounds great for people who don’t want to accept responsibility.”
“Honestly, miss, the way you were sitting on your suitcase before—it looked as if you really could do without taking responsibility for every last thing for once.” It seemed that he wanted to say something more, but he just tipped his cap with a grin. “Anyway, I wish you a good time in our lovely country, miss. I’ll be waiting here a quarter of an hour before I leave, just in case you want to do the same thing my last passenger coming to this place ended up doing.”
I got out of the car with an uneasy feeling and opened the umbrella. It was half-broken and so tiny that it barely protected my head and shoulders from the rain. Jonathan put on the high beams and pointed to a narrow gravel path. Maybe I should have been suspicious when Lara proudly showed me the low room rate she’d found.
“What did your last customer do?” I called through the passenger window while looking at the tin sign attached to a pole proclaiming, “Welcome to God’s Country. Eden Rock Lodge.”
“Insisted I take him to a proper hotel.”
About two hundred yards later, I learned what had made Jonathan’s previous passenger get back into the taxi. Eden Rock Lodge was as far from a proper hotel as a barn was from King Ludwig’s castle. Blinded by night and rain, I almost pulled my little valise right past the dimly lit building. The entryway’s concrete slabs were cracked, and they jutted up from the soil as if trying to escape. That has to be a code violation, I thought, and then looked up at the weather-beaten stone façade. It was only a little past 10 p.m., but all of the shutters were closed. A copper ship’s bell hung next to a wooden door. Nothing suggested that a hotel was hiding within these walls.
But wait—there was another tin shingle like the one at the trailhead. Several letters had long since fallen from the sign, and the gappy remains read “Eden Ro Lo .”
For some strange reason, I didn’t follow the example of my predecessor who had turned on his heel. Maybe it was because I was soaked to the skin. All I wanted at that moment was a dry spot—even a goat pen would have sufficed. I thought of Jonathan and his taxi, engine still running, just a few hundred yards away. Then I cautiously pulled on a rope to ring the bell.
Not a sound. I pulled a little harder—and the rope came free in my hand.
“Just perfect,” I mumbled between chattering teeth.
I sensed more than saw movement in the shadows cast by the anaemic light, freezing in terror at the thought of what might be lurking there. It was probably only a cat, but my instincts took over, and I launched my shoulder into the door.
The door gave immediately and I stumbled into a brightly lit hallway. Warmth!
I lifted my head and looked into the angry face of a Scottish soldier, high up on a horse. His comrades were assembled around him in other gold-framed paintings. An entire Highlander army in oils—brandishing bayonets, playing bagpipes—guided me down the corridor to a room with an enormous fireplace and a reception desk. It may have smelled of mothballs and mould, but it was undeniably a hotel lobby. Thank god!
I looked towards the cosy fire in the fireplace and—
Impossible! I stood glued to the spot, my mouth hanging open, clutching the ripped-off bell rope in my fist, and tried to convince myself that I wasn’t seeing ghosts sitting in two Chippendale chairs next to a tea table, playing rummy.
“There she is. Yoo-hoo, Josie! Is this a surprise or what?” Aunt Li was beaming and waving. “Come here, child.”
Aunt Bri looked up from her cards with a tiny frown. “Did you swim here? You look awful.”
What the hell were my aunts doing here? My knees went wobbly and, a few heartbeats later, I found myself lying on the carpet like a beetle in shock.
“Damn it, Li. You scared her so much she fainted.” Bri’s voice seemed to come from far away.
“Why is it my fault? She only keeled over after your . . . honestly . . . snide remark,” Li said in a huff.
I half opened my eyes and inspected the two pairs of legs next to me. I could easily guess who wore the woollen tights and flats and who the elegant furry boots. I groaned. These two were all I needed right now.
“What did she say?” Li asked.
“Probably wants to know why in the world we’re here,” was Bri’s dry reply.
“Tell her Mathilde sent us.”
“Why don’t you tell her?”
“She’s unconscious.”
“Good god, Li, her eyes are open.”
“Would you two be kind enough to help me up when you’re done arguing?” Exasperated, I looked at the ceiling, which featured an exceptionally ugly chandelier made of deer antlers.
“But Josie, we aren’t arguing. Your great-aunt and I just have a difference of opinion.” Li clucked her tongue.
“What else is new?” I said, using my elbows to try to sit up.
I was still dizzy, but Bri had returned to her chair to scowl at her cards, and Li simply stood there next to me.
“You are happy to see us, aren’t you, dear?”
“Of course, Aunt Li. I’m delighted,” I replied, unsteadily getting to my feet. Li immediately caught me in an embrace. She smelled strongly of calendula salve.
“The girl lies as badly as her mother.” Bri tossed a card onto the discard pile and leaned back with a pleased expression. “Your turn, Li.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“I mean it only took me a few minutes to get the truth out of her when you didn’t show up for the cake tasting. By the way, we decided to go with buttercream—a purely strategic decision to keep your grandmother happy.”
“It’s sweet of you to be so worried about your cousin that you’d neglect the preparations for your own wedding. We absolutely agree with Mathilde—it’s our duty to support you in any way we can in your search for Charlie,” Li added cheerfully, pulling me towards the fireplace. “Augh, you’re dripping wet, child. Take care you don’t get the sniffles.”
“A little cold is the least of her concerns right now,” mumbled Bri, picking up a crystal decanter containing an amber-coloured liquid. She poured out half a glass and offered it to me. “You might not like the stuff, but it’ll warm you.”
Even the tiny sip I took burned like fire. I returned the whisky to Bri.
It sounded like Mama hadn’t shared the true reason for my hasty departure. Worried about Charlie, hah! For all I cared, the little monster could drown in Loch Ness—after she handed over the ring. What was more worrisome was that Li and Bri apparently planned to accompany me.
“Are you sure you know what you’re getting yourself into?” I asked.
“Are you?” Bri retorted. She looked me up and down before evaluating my suitcase. “What’s in that tiny thing? A few pairs of sandals and a sundress?”
“Don’t listen to her, Josie. I’m very excited about our Highlands adventure,” Li said, squeezing my arm.
“Highlands, Shmilands.” Bri scowled. “Have you looked outside? They’re predicting nonstop rain and a storm for the next two weeks. This isn’t an adventure—it’s boot camp.”
“Why don’t you just wait in the car for the next few days?” Li said, pursing her lips. “Besides—”
&nbs
p; “You have a car?” I interrupted.
“Of course,” Bri snapped. “Were you planning to take a bus into the wilderness?”
“I forgot my driver’s licence.”
Bri grinned and I could feel myself blushing. It had never been easy for me to admit to a mistake.
“What a lovely coincidence! I guess from now on we’ll just have to keep an eye on you.” Li’s eyes sparkled. “Let’s ring for Trish. You need a hot shower.”
I opened my mouth to protest, but then realised that I really was stuck with these two and their car.
“Yes, Josefine?” Bri asked so sternly that I lowered my eyes.
“Nothing, Aunt Bri. I’m so glad you’re here,” I mumbled.
“Like I said, the girl’s a lousy liar.”
Apart from a faint odour of dusty textiles and dampness, my room was a pleasant surprise. A loving hand had tried to create a genuine Victorian atmosphere. A stately four-poster bed held court, everything was clean, and yellow miniature roses welcomed me on the desk. They were arranged in a porcelain vase that most likely had served as a chamber pot in previous centuries.
Trish leaned against the door frame, watching me anxiously. She was probably used to derogatory remarks about the well-worn velvet upholstery of the chairs or the faded bedspread. The young woman inspired the same ambivalent feelings in me as Lara did. On the one hand, I wanted her to make herself scarce as soon as possible, but on the other hand, I felt like protecting her from this cruel world. To resolve this dilemma, I rummaged in my purse and gave her a generous five-pound tip. The expression on her porcelain doll face went from apprehension to surprise to bliss.
“Breakfast is served from seven till nine.” She gave me the key and, with a breathless “Oidhche mhath—goodnight, Miss Sonnenthal,” hurried out of the room before I could change my mind.
The door had hardly closed before I stripped off my wet clothes and padded, naked and shivering, to the bathroom, where I was astonished to find wall-to-wall carpeting. A lukewarm and weak stream of water gurgled from the rusty showerhead, but I hummed happily while lathering up. For a brief moment, I even believed that my streak of bad luck was over. Not only was the rental car problem solved, but I was strangely calmed by the fact that I was no longer alone. Li and Bri were often quite amusing—when they weren’t at each other’s throats.
Kissed by the Rain Page 5
