Kingdom of Shadows

by Barbara Erskine

  ‘Clare –’

  ‘The Church of England is boring, Geoffrey.’ She was speaking very fast. ‘It hasn’t reassured me, or comforted me. It leaves me cold. I’m sorry. But it’s true. And if it’s concerned about my soul I’m grateful – but I don’t need its concern. I’d rather go on my own way.’

  ‘Will you tell me what you do?’

  ‘The ceremonies are secret. You know better than to ask that.’ She was swinging from humour to seriousness so quickly he was not sure which was which.

  ‘Then tell me what happens. Do these people appear to you as apparitions?’

  ‘They appear as people; in my head. They are daydreams. Imaginary. Nothing to do with you.’

  ‘But they are not daydreams, are they? You are summoning them.’

  ‘Imagining, summoning. What’s the difference? It is not as though any one else can see them. At least …’ She stopped in mid sentence. She was staring at the dog who was lying head on paws near the door. Casta had sensed them. And so had Zak. She shivered suddenly.

  Geoffrey was watching her closely. He frowned. ‘Please let me help you, Clare,’ he said. His voice was uncharacteristically gentle. ‘Please. I can get rid of them for you.’

  She stared at him. ‘Get rid of them?’

  ‘These people who are tormenting you.’

  ‘They are not tormenting me! And I don’t want to get rid of them!’ Her indignation flared again. ‘I care about them, Geoff. Isobel is like another me. I want to know all about her. I want to dream about her, or conjure up her shade or whatever it is I’m doing. She belongs at Duncairn. She’s part of my history; she’s part of me. She’s living again through me. And I intend to go on summoning her to me, even if it does put my soul in jeopardy!’ She took a deep breath. ‘What sort of life do you think I lead here, Geoff? What do you think I do all day?’ She sat down near him. ‘I’m young; I’m energetic; I’m intelligent. I can’t have children, so I’m not spending my time with my family. I have a housekeeper to look after the house. My husband doesn’t want me to work – and up to now I haven’t been able to face the hassle of fighting with him about it. He doesn’t want me with him all the time either. I spent a lot of time raising money for charity when we were first married – but he resented even that time I wasn’t with him. I have no friends around here. A lot of acquaintances, but no one I could call a friend. I wanted to go up to Scotland to see my mother and to go to Duncairn – but he wouldn’t even let me do that! So, what the hell am I supposed to do all day?’ Her voice had risen passionately. ‘I took up yoga, Geoffrey, to try to learn calmness, to reduce stress, to try to have a baby. That, it appears, is never going to happen, but I have grown to enjoy yoga and meditation, to rely on it, if you like. It makes me feel good and it gives me a prop when I need one. I am beginning to fight my way out of this morass of boredom and indecision. I am beginning to question what the point of it all is. And because of that, I am beginning to make sense of my life.’ She paused and smiled at him. ‘I’ve always had dreams, Geoff. I’ve always been haunted by the past. That is nothing new. What is new is that I’ve learned to call it up at will, and learn from it.’

  ‘I appreciate that you have problems with your marriage, Clare.’ Geoffrey rubbed his cheek with his hand. ‘But they can be faced in other ways.’ He hesitated. ‘You must see, my dear, that what we are talking about has gone beyond daydreaming. You are not some sort of female Walter Mitty. You are lighting candles and invoking the spirits of the dead. And they are, as you have found, only too eager to communicate. It is dangerous, Clare.’

  In the long silence that followed as they stared at each other they both heard the scrunch of car tyres on the gravel outside the house.

  Clare shivered again. She swallowed. ‘That will be Sarah coming back. I think you’d better go, Geoff.’

  Slowly Geoffrey stood up. ‘Of course.’ He reached out and took her hands. ‘Please think about what I’ve said, Clare, I beg you. And feel you can ring me at any time. If you’re lonely, come and see us. Chloe is very fond of you. We both are. And I’ll have a chat with Paul. He must be made to realise that you need something to occupy you –’

  ‘Don’t you say a word to Paul!’ She was angry suddenly. ‘I am quite capable of talking to my own husband. Keep out of it, Geoffrey. I’m working things out my own way.’ In the distance the doorbell pealed. ‘Now, go. Please go. Sarah must have forgotten her key –’ She almost ran into the hall.

  Outside there was a florist’s van. There was no sign of Sarah or her car. A young woman was standing on the gravel, staring up at the house front, a cellophane sheaf of flowers in her arms.

  ‘Mrs Royland?’

  Clare carried the flowers back into the drawing room where Geoffrey was still standing awkwardly in front of the fire. He smiled as she laid the flowers down on the coffee table. ‘It looks as though someone loves you after all.’ He watched as she unpinned the note which came with them.

  Tearing open the envelope Clare read the carefully written message and her face went white.

  ‘So sorry to hear you are unwell, but delighted you have reconsidered the sale of Duncairn. Look forward to meeting you when you are recovered. Very Best Wishes. Rex Cummin.’

  The sea was churning restlessly over the rocks at the foot of the cliffs. Neil walked to the place where the wall had fallen and peered down into the dark. A gentle south wind touched his cheek with cold fingers. Above, the sky was ablaze with stars.

  ‘It’s very quiet, isn’t it?’ Behind him Kathleen glanced nervously down over his shoulder towards the white luminescence which was the sea curdling on the rocks far below. She turned and walked back towards the keep, feeling the chill of the dew soaking into her shoes. ‘What a spooky place. Where is the oil? Right under the castle?’

  Neil hadn’t moved. Hands in pockets, he hunched his shoulders. ‘It’s very deep. It would cost a lot to drill here.’

  ‘But not a fraction as much as it costs to drill under the North Sea, presumably.’ She paused. ‘I like your Mr Grant at the hotel. You’ve got an ally there.’ Walking back to him, she took his arm. ‘We didn’t need to come up here, Neil.’

  ‘I needed to.’ He turned to go with her. ‘This place is special, Kath. Can’t you feel it? It represents everything that Scotland stands for. A castle high on a cliff; a castle which has stood here for eight hundred years; a place where they fought for Scotland’s independence. A place where men and women died to save Scotland’s resources for herself.’

  Kathleen shivered. In spite of herself she glanced over her shoulder. Ever since they had walked out into the darkness after dinner she had had the feeling they were being watched. ‘Scotland didn’t have many resources. Not until the oil came,’ she said gently.

  ‘Scotland has always had resources. Her people; her learning; her pride and independence …’

  Kathleen grinned ruefully. ‘So, do I gather that if it were a Scots’ oil company you wouldn’t feel so bad about their bid?’

  ‘No. Even then we would fight. The environmental threat is too great. Imagine it, Kath. A hundred-foot drilling rig here, on the cliffs. It would be sacrilege!’ He pushed his hands deep in his pockets. ‘But an American oil company – run by people who know nothing of Scotland – who have never even been here! That is scandalous.’

  ‘Jack Grant said they’d been up here at the weekend.’

  ‘Oh yes, another surveyor, no doubt. I don’t expect Cummin has ever been here, or his US directors. The people in charge of wrecking places invariably live thousands of miles away.’

  High above them the tower rose black against the luminous sky, the broken walls jagged and irregular in front of the stars. Where was Clare Royland? Why wasn’t she here, fighting?

  ‘Neil –’ Kathleen was beside him again.

  ‘Go back to the hotel, Kath, please. I need to think.’ There was a long silence. He could feel her eyes on his face in the darkness. Then she shrugged. ‘OK. I’ll see you later. Don�
��t fall over the edge, now.’

  He watched as her figure faded into the darkness, then he turned back towards the castle. How could Clare Royland even contemplate selling? How could she betray her roots, her heredity like this? Couldn’t she feel it when she came here? The pull? The tie which held the sons and daughters of Scotland to the land. He pictured her yet again with her expensive car and her rich, beautiful clothes and he frowned as somewhere a bird let out a long mournful cry. He and Clare Royland were going to have to meet …

  ‘So, how are you enjoying working in a man’s world, honey?’ Rex smiled at Diane Warboys as she sat opposite him in the pink alcove at Corney and Barrow. ‘As challenging as you hoped?’

  ‘It’s not strictly a man’s world any more, Rex. But it is challenging, yes, and I’m enjoying it enormously.’ She leaned back in her chair and looked at him hard. It had been nearly ten years since she had last seen her godfather. Then he had been based in Houston, and she had called in to see them one vacation when she was at school. He was still an extraordinarily handsome man, tanned, silver-haired, with a smile which could charm a bird out of a tree, but he was tired – she could see it in his eyes. ‘How are you and Mary?’ She smiled at him fondly. ‘I had no idea you were based in London now.’

  ‘We’re just fine.’ Rex sighed. ‘Getting older. But that’s to be expected, I suppose.’

  She laughed. ‘You old fraud. You don’t look a day over forty.’

  ‘Well, I’m quite a bit older than that, honey.’ His face was sober for a moment. ‘A lot more than that. But let’s talk about you. What is it like, working for BCWP? Are they good people?’

  ‘The best. Well almost. We were number two, last year.’

  Rex frowned. ‘So, there’s no truth in the rumours that they’re undercapitalised.’

  Diane raised an eyebrow. ‘My, we have been doing our homework.’ She grinned. ‘No truth at all. The firm is solid. There were one or two shaky moments when they first set up, but not any more.’

  ‘I came across the name of one of your directors the other day.’ He glanced up at her under his eyebrows. ‘Paul Royland.’ He noticed the slight colouring of her cheeks and he frowned. ‘Do you know him at all well?’

  ‘I had dinner with him and his wife last weekend, actually.’ Diane eyed him cautiously. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘Just curious to know what kind of people my goddaughter is working for.’ He grinned. ‘Is he a good business man, do you reckon?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ She glanced away. ‘He’s on the banking side, so I don’t see a lot of him.’

  ‘You just said you had dinner with him, Diane,’ his voice was softly wheedling. ‘You must know him quite well to have done that.’

  ‘I was taken, by one of his co-directors. Henry Firbank. We go out from time to time.’

  ‘I see.’ Rex leaned forward and steepled his fingers over his glass. ‘I see. So tell me, from what you know of him, would you say Paul Royland would be a good man to do business with?’

  Diane frowned. ‘Is that what you’re thinking of doing? Raising money through BCWP?’

  ‘Possibly. But I was thinking on a more personal level. I want to know if he’s sound.’ His voice had sharpened.

  She looked down. ‘So. This isn’t just a social lunch. You’ve asked me here for a reason. I might have guessed, you old fraud. You don’t change, do you? Well, the answer is I don’t know. There have been rumours.’ She glanced up at him, uncomfortable now with his questions. ‘I shouldn’t tell you any of this, Rex.’

  ‘It won’t go any further, honey.’ He reached over the table and took her hand. ‘But I need to know.’

  ‘Well,’ she hesitated again. ‘Henry would never say anything, he’s too loyal, but I know Paul’s sister, Emma, quite well, and she’s let slip a few things. Her husband is on the Far East desk, and she has no idea of how to keep tactful silence about things he’s told her about the office.’ She smiled fondly. ‘And of course, Peter only tells her because she is Paul’s sister! Peter thinks that there may have been trouble about the Hannington takeover, when the price dropped when they had the strike. Do you remember? The shares shot up and there were screams of insider dealing. Then the takeover fell through. I suspect Paul lost a lot of money over that deal. I think he can be less than shrewd sometimes.’

  ‘But you like him anyway.’ Rex raised an eyebrow.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘Only to me. I’ve known you too long. So, what about his wife?’

  Diane sighed. ‘She is rich and stunningly beautiful. I would never stand a chance.’

  ‘You too are stunningly beautiful, my Diane.’ He smiled at her, raising his glass. ‘Do you like her?’

  Diane shrugged. ‘I’m not sure, to be honest. She’s strange. A bit vague.’

  ‘And what is his sister like, apart from garrulous?’

  ‘Nice. You’d get on well with her.’

  ‘And is she close to her brother?’ He made the question casual.

  Diane laughed. ‘She can’t stand him. Poor Emma. Like Clare she is not really a City wife. Neither of them fit in. They don’t know what to talk about.’

  ‘And yet you get on with her.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s because I’m different too.’ She grinned. ‘I’m a woman and I’m American. That makes me an outsider in the City as well. Why are you showing such an interest in the Roylands, Rex? Are you sure it’s just business?’

  ‘I’m interested in you, honey. That’s all. I want to know all about you. It’s been too long since we’ve seen you. I tell you what. Why don’t you bring your boyfriend – Henry, did you say he was called? – to dinner one evening. Mary would be thrilled with that …’

  ‘What the hell do I do, James?’ Clare’s knuckles were white on the receiver. She had dialled her brother’s number before Geoffrey’s car had vanished down the drive.

  ‘Sell, Clare. You’d be crazy not to. They don’t have to buy, you know. They could just apply for a licence to drill. And there would be nothing you could do about it. The oil isn’t yours, sis.’

  ‘What do you mean, it isn’t mine?’

  ‘Oil belongs to the country, Clare. They can take it, whatever you say. My guess is that this company wants the land and the hotel to ease the hassle. But they’ll get the oil if the government grants them a licence.’

  ‘I don’t believe you!’

  ‘It’s true, Clare.’

  ‘Have you been talking to Paul about this?’

  ‘He asked me about Duncairn. He can’t understand why you didn’t want to sell.’

  ‘So he decided to sell over my head! That’s what it sounds like.’

  ‘Well, he can’t do that, so don’t panic. No one can force you to sell or sell without your consent. Married Women’s Property Act and all that!’

  She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself. ‘You are sure?’

  ‘Paul must have told him you are ill as an excuse to start negotiating on your behalf. All you have to do is ring this man and deny it.’

  ‘I can’t. I threw away the letter. I can’t remember the solicitor’s name …’

  James looked heavenwards. ‘Ask the florist, Clare, but I think you’ll find that the firm is called Sigma.’

  Rex phoned her back as soon as he got back to his office. ‘Mrs Royland. How are you?’ He sat down at his desk and leaned back, staring out at the murky sky.

  ‘I’m very well, Mr Cummin. Thank you for the flowers, but they weren’t necessary. And I’m afraid you are under a misapprehension. I have not changed my mind about selling Duncairn. It is not and never will be for sale. And if my husband has led you to believe that he is empowered to act on my behalf he is misleading you. He has no authority to act for me. None at all.’ She could feel the receiver slipping in her hand. ‘Please leave us alone, Mr Cummin. There is no oil at Duncairn.’

  ‘Ah. There, my dear lady, you are wrong. There is oil there.’

  ‘Then leave it
there. This country doesn’t need any more oil.’

  ‘There is always demand for oil, Mrs Royland.’ He leaned forward on the desk, easing his weight on the chair. ‘Why don’t you and I meet? I’d like to explain things to you, tell you our schedule, put your mind at rest. I could show you my plans for the hotel and the castle. I think you’d like what I have in mind. I’m a Scot by descent, Mrs Royland. I care about that castle as much as you do.’

  ‘I doubt that.’ Clare was white to the lips. The threat of this unknown man, and his offer to buy Duncairn, had suddenly become real again.

  ‘Perhaps I should explain.’ She could hear the sudden pride in his voice. ‘I can trace my roots back to the family who owned Duncairn once a long time ago. Comyn, they were called. It is my ancestral home, Mrs Royland, in a manner of speaking. So I care very much about what happens to it. I would spend money on it.’

  Clare was speechless.

  ‘Are you there, Mrs Royland? Obviously Sigma doesn’t need to own the land. We’ll get the XL – that is a licence to test drill. But I want Duncairn to get the credit it deserves. I want it to become the European headquarters for Sigma. I want to raise that castle back to its former glory. I want to rebuild Duncairn Castle, Mrs Royland.’

  ‘No!’ It came out as an anguished whisper. ‘No, Mr Cummin. Never. I won’t sell to you or anyone.’ Her hands were shaking violently. ‘You and I have nothing to say to one another, Mr Cummin. Nothing!’

  She slammed down the receiver. Then she picked it up again and rang Paul. ‘Don’t you ever, ever, try that again! I may not be in London, I may spend half my life in a dream as you put it, but believe me, if you try negotiating with that man again I will hear about it and I will stop you, believe me, I will stop you!’

  The house was quiet again. Sarah had put away the shopping, made them both a light salad – Clare had hardly touched hers – then she had gone out again. She was driving up to Norwich to stay the night with a friend.