Kingdom of Shadows

by Barbara Erskine

  Paul smiled grimly. ‘Oh, I’ll find her,’ he said. ‘Make no mistake about that.’

  Neil watched, hands in pockets, from the window, as Paul climbed back into the hire car and turned it on the gravel in front of the hotel. A moment later he had gone.

  ‘Did she tell you she knew someone in Fraserburgh?’ Kathleen was standing at the foot of the stairs.

  Neil nodded. ‘Pity it wasn’t Wick,’ he said sourly. ‘It would have taken him a lot longer to find out she wasn’t there.’

  Kathleen put her arm through his. ‘What are you going to do about her?’

  Neil glanced down at her. ‘You don’t like her, do you.’

  ‘No.’ It was better to be honest. ‘There is something odd about her.’ Kathleen shivered ostentatiously. ‘Something unlucky. She is bound up with this place, but in a bad way. I don’t like it.’

  ‘Is this more of your famous second sight!’ Neil teased. ‘If you ask me, there is nothing unlucky about that lady that wouldn’t be cured by ditching that bastard, Royland.’

  ‘He will never let her go.’

  ‘He won’t have any choice, if she divorces him.’

  ‘She’s not going to divorce him.’ Kathleen crouched before the fire and held our her hands. ‘She’s trapped in that marriage.’

  ‘You seem to know a lot about it.’

  ‘I saw it in the cards.’

  ‘Oh, my God!’ Neil looked heavenwards. ‘You haven’t brought those damn things with you?’

  Kathleen scowled. ‘They go where I go. Where is she, anyway? Is she still asleep?’

  ‘I suppose so. She looked exhausted, and she crashed her car last night – dented it quite badly, I noticed – so she must have been a bit shocked. Sleep is probably the best thing for her. If she is not awake by the time Jack starts serving dinner someone can go and wake her up and tell her that her husband has gone north. That should please her.’

  ‘If he believed you.’ Kathleen was gazing into the flames.

  Clare opened her eyes and stared up into the darkness. For a moment she couldn’t think where she was; then she heard the sea. Panic shot through her. For a moment she lay rigid, her heart pounding with fear, then slowly she sat up. She groped for the switch on the bedside light. It was the same sea, the sea which haunted her dreams and her visions, but this time it was real.

  She took a deep breath as the light came on and she saw the black reflections which were the windows of the room. Behind them the wind reverberated against the glass. The sea, a hundred yards away below the cliffs, was pounding against the coastline, booming in the caves along the coast, reverberating through the castle, across the brittle winter grass and around the hotel. The room was full of the sound.

  She climbed stiffly out of bed. Her shoulder was throbbing painfully and her head ached. She glanced at her watch. It was six thirty. Going from one window to the other she gritted her teeth and with an effort she pulled the heavy old curtains across, trying to block out the sound of the sea.

  She went through into the bathroom and drew the curtains in there too. It had once been a dressing room, and was much too big and draughty really for a bathroom, although the cracked linoleum had now been replaced by carpet, and a light had been put above the basin to give it some semblance of twentieth-century comfort. The bath was huge and old, with four clawed legs. She turned on the taps. The water which swirled down on to the stark whiteness of the new enamel was peaty brown. She glanced up alarmed as the lights flickered, but they steadied at once. Jack had installed a generator, she remembered, comforted, which would cut in if the wind brought the power lines down.

  Automatically locking the door she pulled the switch which put on the electric bar heater on the wall and slowly she took off her sweater and shirt. A shower of hail hurled itself at the window, the rattle of ice on the glass clearly audible above the sound of the running water. She shivered, waiting for the bath to fill, then painfully she climbed in and lay back in the comforting warmth, feeling it soothing her bruised shoulder. The lights flickered again.

  In the bedroom Casta growled gently in her throat and then went back to sleep.

  22

  ‘I’ve phoned up to Mrs Royland’s room as you asked me.’ Jack put his head around the door of the bar where Kathleen and Neil were having a drink before dinner. ‘There’s no reply. Do you reckon I should go up and see if she’s all right?’

  ‘No need.’ Neil was on his feet at once. ‘I was going up to get some notes anyway. I’ll give her a knock as I go past.’

  He knocked twice on Clare’s door. The dog barked at once, but she did not reply. Cautiously he turned the handle. The bedroom door opened and he peered in. The room was lit only by the bedside lamp. He could see the covers rumpled where she had slept but there was no sign of her.

  ‘Where is your mistress, dog?’ Neil looked doubtfully at the bathroom door. ‘Is she all right, do you think?’

  Going over to the door, he knocked. There was no reply. Behind him the lights flickered again. Beyond the window he could hear the wind and the hail lashing the side of the building.

  He knocked again. ‘Mrs Royland? Clare? Are you all right?’

  Beside him the dog whined, its hackles on end.

  Neil looked down at it, then he tried the bathroom door. It was locked. He knocked more urgently this time, thundering on the wooden panelling. ‘Clare! Clare, can you hear me?’

  Supposing she had passed out? She had made light of the car crash but he had seen the size of the dent in the XJS’s wing. She could have hit her head and been concussed, and besides that she had been tired to the point of collapse. Making up his mind suddenly he put his shoulder to the door, and with one sharp thrust pushed it open with a splintering sound as the small bolt wrenched free of its screws.

  In spite of the electric fire high on the wall the room was ice cold. He shivered involuntarily, looking round. Clare was lying in the bath, her eyes closed, the water lapping gently around her breasts. She was as white as a sheet.

  ‘Christ!’ Neil stared at her for a fraction of a second, then he strode towards the bath. Seizing her shoulders he pulled her into a sitting position, shaking her so that her head fell forward, a curtain of dark hair tumbling over her face. Her skin was clammy and very cold.

  ‘Clare? Clare! Are you all right?’ He shook her again, leaning forward to pull out the plug and release the water. She had been within inches of slipping under in the long old-fashioned bath.

  Clare’s eyes opened. For a moment she stared at him completely blankly, then she looked around in confusion and she frowned. She could see Isobel, swathed in her cloak, standing talking to a group of armed men. In the darkness their faces were shadowy, concerned, the wind was catching their hair and clothes, tearing the manes and tails of the horses near them. Robert was there too, fading now, his handsome face strained and angry. He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something, but he was growing more insubstantial every second, disappearing before her eyes. She was trying to reach out towards them when she was shaken again, hard, and stunned by a slap on the face. The figures disappeared abruptly.

  She gasped. Her eyes snapped into focus and she began to shiver violently.

  ‘Here, wrap this round you.’ Neil snatched the bath towel off the radiator and put it round her shoulders. ‘Now, stand up. Here, let me help you out.’

  She couldn’t stand. With an exclamation of irritation Neil stooped and lifted her out of the bath as she clutched the towel round her frantically, staring puzzled at the light above the mirror which was faintly flickering. ‘What’s happened? What are you doing here? How did you get in?’ She was shaking so much as he lowered her to her feet that she had to sit down at once on the rim of the bath.

  ‘I was afraid you might have had an accident, so I broke the bolt on the door. Just as well. You were asleep in the bath. You might have drowned!’

  She stared at him and he wondered suddenly if she remembered who he was.

&
nbsp; ‘You hit me?’ Indignation was beginning to surface.

  ‘Yes.’ He grinned. ‘I’m sorry. I couldn’t wake you. I was afraid you had concussion or something.’

  Clare was still confused. ‘And you hit me, to cure my concussion?’ She gave a faint smile. ‘What have you done to Casta?’ Through the open door to the bedroom she could see the dog cowering in the far corner.

  ‘I’ve done nothing to her, unless it was the noise of the door crashing open which frightened her.’

  ‘Which frightened the entire hotel, I’ve no doubt.’ Slowly, as the warmth returned to her chilled body, her position was dawning on her and she was beginning to realise what had happened. She could feel her face colouring with embarrassment as she clutched the towel more closely round her. ‘You had absolutely no business breaking in like that, Mr Forbes. I was perfectly all right!’

  ‘It didn’t look that way to me. Another ten minutes and you would have died of cold. It was freezing in here.’ He stared up at the fire, puzzled. The room with its radiator and electric fire seemed perfectly warm now.

  ‘Rubbish! I was dozing, that was all. I resent your intrusion. I hope you realise that you will have to make good the damage to the door!’ Clutching the towel to her she walked past him into the bedroom. ‘Now, please go. I have to get dressed.’ She stood with her back to him, trying desperately to regain her composure.

  ‘My God, you’re a hard bitch!’ Neil was stung by her haughty tone. ‘Are you sure you haven’t sold this place if you count your pennies that carefully? I probably saved your life in there!’

  ‘You did no such thing!’

  ‘You could have drowned, lady!’

  ‘I was well aware of where I was, Mr Forbes.’

  ‘And where were you?’ He stared at her as she turned to face him, her face white. ‘Because you sure as hell weren’t here!’

  She swallowed. ‘Don’t be stupid. Of course I was here. I was sleepy, that was all …’

  ‘Were you?’ He walked to the door. ‘Dinner is served from 7.30. That is what I came to tell you.’

  ‘I don’t want any dinner.’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. You haven’t eaten all day.’ He was losing patience fast. ‘Shall I get Catriona to bring something up for you?’

  ‘Don’t bother. I’m not hungry.’ She had begun to shake again. Desperately she tried to control herself. ‘Please go.’

  ‘Shall I ask Jack to get you a doctor?’ For some reason he felt responsible for her now, when all he wanted was to get back to the bar and his drink. ‘I can’t leave you like this.’

  ‘You most certainly can!’ Her voice was suddenly dangerously sharp. ‘Please get out of my room.’

  ‘All right! I’m going.’ Neil strode to the door. Pulling it open he stopped abruptly to find Kathleen outside. She glanced into the room.

  ‘I did knock. Neither of you heard me.’

  ‘No. We didn’t.’ Neil was still holding the door.

  ‘You were distracted, no doubt.’ Kathleen stared past him towards Clare, noting her narrow tanned shoulders, and the swell of her breasts above the whiteness of the towel.

  Neil pushed past her out into the long corridor and pulled the door shut behind him with a bang. His face was white with anger. ‘Clare Royland is a spoiled bitch!’ he said with feeling as he led the way downstairs. ‘The sooner she’s out of this hotel, the better.’

  Kathleen smiled. ‘Do I gather she didn’t welcome your visit?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ He threw himself down in his chair and reached for his whisky.

  ‘Was she grateful that you got rid of her husband for her?’

  Neil stared at her. Then suddenly he laughed. ‘I forgot to mention him,’ he said.

  Paul reappeared exactly two hours later. He strode into the bar and stared round. Neil and Kathleen were drinking their coffee by the blazing fire. They were the only guests.

  ‘Clare didn’t go to Fraserburgh,’ he said curtly. ‘She only knows one person there and she hadn’t seen her. I think she’s here.’

  Kathleen stared into the fire. She could feel his tension; anger and desperation flowed out of him in a tangible wave. She shivered.

  ‘Rubbish, man.’ Neil eyed him with dislike. ‘Why should she be here?’ For a moment he had been tempted to tell Paul exactly where she was but something had stopped him. Probably the fact that however much he disliked Clare Royland his hatred of her husband was ten times greater.

  ‘She’s here somewhere. She’s tied to this place. It haunts her. It’s got some kind of hold over her.’ Paul was staring round as though he expected to see her hiding behind one of the chairs.

  ‘This hotel?’ Neil smiled. ‘Why should this hotel haunt her?’

  Paul shook his head. He eyed the other man with undisguised disdain. ‘The castle, not the hotel. The place obsesses her. It has sent her out of her mind.’

  Kathleen looked at him sharply. ‘You mean your wife is mad?’

  Paul looked her up and down. ‘Yes, I mean my wife is mad,’ he said at last. ‘And she is the only one who doesn’t know it.’

  He turned abruptly on his heel and walked out of the bar. They watched in silence as he crossed the reception hall and let himself out into the sleet.

  Kathleen and Neil looked at one another then Kathleen stood up and walked over to the window. She lifted the heavy tapestry curtain and peered out, screwing her eyes up to see into the darkness. She could just make out Paul’s dark figure walking past his car towards the trees.

  ‘He’s going back to the castle,’ she reported.

  ‘Perhaps he’ll walk over the cliff.’ Neil poured himself some more coffee.

  ‘Do you believe him?’ Kathleen let the curtain fall and walked back to the fire.

  ‘Believe him?’

  ‘That she’s mad.’

  Neil stared down into his cup. ‘God knows.’

  ‘Do you think we should warn her that he’s back?’

  Neil sighed. ‘I suppose so.’ He stood up reluctantly. ‘I’ll go. If he comes back you go and dazzle him with that Irish charm and tell him she mentioned another friend. In Sussex!’ He gave a short laugh, then he headed for the stairs.

  Clare had been in bed when Catriona brought up her tray. She stared at the soup and the light salad, realising suddenly how desperately hungry she was. ‘Who ordered this?’ she asked with a wan smile at the girl.

  ‘Mr Forbes. He said you were too tired to come down.’ Catriona smiled shyly as she laid the tray across Clare’s knees. ‘Will there be anything else you’d be wanting?’

  Clare shook her head. ‘No thank you. This will be lovely.’

  ‘There is a candle there on the side with matches if the lights go,’ Catriona went on shyly. ‘The electricity is quite likely to fail in this gale and the generator’s playing up today. Now, just you phone down if you want anything else.’ She glanced round the room, pretending not to notice the dog lying quietly thumping her tail by the window.

  Clare smiled at Casta as the door closed. ‘She disapproves of dogs in the bedrooms, like her mother,’ she said. ‘Poor darling. It’s not been much of a day for you. I’ll get dressed after I’ve had this and we’ll go down and I’ll get them to find something for your supper then we’ll walk over to the castle and give you a bit of a run.’ She picked up the spoon and began to sip the soup.

  Outside, the hail clattered against the window. She could hear the rhythm of the sea crashing in below the cliffs. She shivered. So, Neil Forbes had ordered her supper in spite of her refusal. She had to admit she was glad he had. With every mouthful she felt stronger.

  She lay back against the pillows thinking about him. She hadn’t met anyone like Neil before. He was an intense man, consumed with passion for his cause, ruthless, of that she had no doubt, bigoted, strong. A good man to have on your side, a bad enemy. And which was he? She wasn’t sure she knew. She thought he had believed her when she said she wasn’t selling; but he still despised her. She was still
the enemy – rich, landed and probably still English in his eyes. She pictured him with his beautiful girlfriend, the sleek predatory woman who had found him in her bedroom and she smiled in spite of herself. The lady had probably given him hell, imagining – imagining what? She shivered. He had seen her naked; dragged her out of the bath, touched her; held her. The only man, save Paul, ever to have done that and, almost worse, he had seen her in a dream. Even though she was alone she found she was blushing suddenly, and her anger returned. No doubt he and Kathleen were even now sniggering together at what had happened.

  The food finished, she pushed the tray to the bottom of the bed and picked up the glass that had come with it. Cautiously she sniffed it. Neat malt whisky. She smiled. ‘Well, thanks for that, at least, Mr Forbes,’ she murmured out loud and she raised her glass in a toast towards the door.

  The lights of the hotel flickered and went off for a moment, then they came on again. Clare noticed a movement in the corner of the room. ‘Five minutes, Casta.’ She lay back on the pillows, sipping the whisky. It was warm in the bed, beneath the old-fashioned eiderdown, warm and safe. The light flicked on and off again, and then it dimmed. In another minute it would probably go off altogether and then it would be too dark to find the matches, and she didn’t want to be alone in the dark. Forcing herself out of the bed she ran to the candle and brought it back to the bedside table. Lighting it she slid back under the eiderdown. The flame had scarcely steadied when the lights dimmed and died. At once she heard the chuntering of the generator from the cellar in the distance. It coughed twice, and then it fell silent. Somewhere a door banged as Jack Grant, torch in hand, set out to do battle with the alternative fount of power. Clare lay back on the pillows and stared round a room which was changed and softened by the candlelight, and filled with shadows. She picked up her whisky and she sipped it, suddenly uneasy. Again the slight movement, a shadow no more, against the curtain. It wasn’t Casta. She stared, her fingers tightening on the glass.