Esmé swirled water in the teapot to warm it, then tipped it out. ‘Just mind yeself. If you’re staying, you’re gonnae have to learn to handle Jamie.’
‘I thought you wanted me to leave?’
‘Aye, well . . .’ Esmé measured leaves into the pot and poured on boiling water. Stella waited for her to elaborate, but she just busied herself with the cups and saucers. Finally, Esmé said, ‘I’ve asked around and you haven’t been blabbing. Credit where it’s due.’
‘Of course not,’ Stella said.
Esmé shrugged. ‘People are always looking to take advantage of this family, one way or another.’
‘I’m not taking advantage. Jamie hired me to do a job. I don’t know why, though,’ Stella said. ‘He won’t look at any of his correspondence. He asked for a daily report, but I know he doesn’t read them. What’s the point?’
‘He’s taking a break, and mebbe it’s about time.’
‘I see that, but why bother with an assistant? Why not just ignore the lot? Or leave his team in America to do it.’
Esmé shrugged. She pushed a cup and saucer in Stella’s direction and then turned away to start preparing dinner.
‘Please let me do something in here. Anything.’ Stella wanted to peel a big pile of spuds or whip some cream. Something tangible.
Esmé made a shooing gesture. ‘You’re in my way. Go and see what Jamie wants.’
‘I might shout at him,’ Stella said, aware that she was not her usual calm self. A tight coil of suppressed anger buried deep inside her body felt ready to unravel.
Stella knew it had been there for months, that Jamie Munro was not the real cause, but that knowledge didn’t make the anger disappear.
‘Shouting is fine,’ Esmé said. ‘Do you both the world of good. Just don’t throw anything irreplaceable. Take some plain dishes if you think you’ll want to smash something for effect.’
‘I don’t do things for effect,’ Stella said. ‘It’s not a performance.’
Esmé smiled at her. ‘The dishes will be just as broken either way. Take his tea if you’ve a spare hand.’
‘He can fetch his own,’ Stella said, and went to find Jamie.
Stella was prepared to argue with Jamie about her role and the way he was ignoring both the administration of his business and the writing of his new book, so she was as surprised as he was when the words ‘who is Ellie MacDonald?’ popped out instead.
Jamie was preparing to do a powerlifting session, and stopped putting on his gloves to look at her. ‘She worked here for a couple of days.’
Stella was taken aback at his readiness to admit it. ‘You said you hadn’t had an assistant before. Here. You lied.’
He looked away. ‘I didn’t lie. She wasn’t my assistant.’
‘That’s not what Doug said.’ Stella had decided that she wasn’t going to tell Jamie about the journalist. Retired or not, she had the feeling that mentioning a member of the press talking about his family would throw the conversation off-track immediately. Or that he might fire her instantly for speaking to the man.
‘And who is Doug?’
‘Postman. Drinks at the Arisaig Inn. You’d know, if you left your ivory tower once in a while.’
He moved closer to the barbell, bending his knees and elbows a few times as if to warm up. ‘And you think he would know better than me what Ellie MacDonald was hired to do?’
‘Well . . .’ Stella felt she was losing control of the conversation. ‘You didn’t tell me she’d died.’
‘I didn’t think it was relevant. I don’t think it’s relevant now.’
‘She died here, two months before I came for an interview. I think that’s relevant.’
‘Why?’ He looked genuinely confused. ‘She had an accident. Not even in the house. Down on the rocks around the bay. Where I told you to be careful.’
‘You should have told me why.’
Jamie stopped stretching and looked at her as if she had grown an extra head. ‘So that you could be frightened? It was bad luck. A freak accident. If she hadn’t fallen in that particular way then it wouldn’t have been so serious. I fell on the rocks when I was fifteen, broke a rib.’
‘Then maybe they should be cordoned off,’ Stella said, still angry but not so sure what to do with it.
‘Oh, you’re not one of those, are you? Health and safety notices everywhere, pointing out the bleeding obvious. Ban bungee jumping and skydiving and skiing, just in case someone gets an ouchie.’
‘I don’t call dead an “ouchie”. Don’t be such a dick.’
The word hung between them in the ensuing silence.
Stella couldn’t believe she had been so unprofessional, said something so unacceptable. At the same time, she didn’t care. He was being a dick. She waited for the axe to fall. Instant dismissal?
Instead, he smiled widely. ‘When you reach the point in a discussion when the other person just starts throwing insults, you know you’ve won.’ He bent his knees and gripped the heavy barbell, panting as he lifted it a short distance then put it back. Stella had seen him do this routine before. He lifted maybe ten times, only a short distance each time, but the weight was so heavy that he was sweating and red by the end.
‘Aren’t those supposed to go over your head?’
He didn’t answer until he’d put the weight down again, then said, ‘Only if you want to show off. If you want to be effective, this works.’
Stella waited until he’d finished his lifts, trying to hold on to her anger.
‘I hired Ellie to help Esmé with the house. Cleaning and that kind of thing. She’s been living here alone for years and I kind of felt like I was intruding, or mebbe interrupting her routine. And I didn’t want her to go to extra trouble just because I was here, but you can’t tell Esmé what to do. I wanted her to be able to carry on as she was before or take a break completely. Whatever she wanted. She deserves that.’ He put one arm across his body, stretching. ‘It didn’t really work out. Ellie was only here for a couple of days before Esmé told me she wasn’t suitable. It was supposed to be a one-month trial, but I told her she could head home and I’d pay her anyway. She went for a walk instead.’ He looked down. ‘I did worry that she was more upset than she seemed. Mebbe that’s why she wasn’t paying proper attention on the rocks, but she seemed all right. I swear, she was chuffed about getting full pay and she seemed kind of relieved. I don’t think Esmé had been very easy . . .’
Stella felt the last of her anger drain away. He hadn’t lied to her about Ellie, not really. Not mentioning was not the same thing. And whatever Doug or anybody else said, he didn’t seem like a bad person. Annoying, yes. Occasionally smug, definitely, but not evil. Remembering the way he was spoken about in the village softened her mood further.
‘I didn’t like hearing about Ellie from someone else,’ she said. ‘I wish you’d told me.’
He grabbed a towel and rubbed his face and neck. When his face was visible again, it was serious. ‘I understand. Sorry about that.’
‘I’ll leave you in peace.’ Stella turned to go.
‘It’s not cursed, if that’s what’s worrying you.’
Stella wanted to laugh but her throat was suddenly dry. ‘Cursed?’
‘This place. I know there’s a rumour. It’s been going on for so long now that it’s become folklore. Some idiotic bastard put it in his book of local tales and that didn’t help. Newspapers picked up on it and started calling it “house of tragedy”, which made the whole thing worse.’
‘I’ve heard a few things,’ Stella said, deciding to be honest. ‘In the village.’
Jamie pulled a wry smile. ‘I’ll bet. But I don’t want you to worry—’
‘I don’t think this house is cursed,’ Stella said quickly. ‘I just don’t like being in the dark. I like to have all the facts and then I can make informed decisions.’
‘Absolutely,’ Jamie said. ‘I’m exactly the same. I’m sorry.’
‘All right, then. Is ther
e anything else I should know?’
‘About local gossip?’
‘About anything.’
‘I’m glad you’re here,’ Jamie said. ‘I think this arrangement is working out very well.’
Stella felt the heat travel up to her cheeks, and a feeling not unlike happiness. ‘Thank you.’
CHAPTER TEN
24th March, 1848
My dearest Mary,
Thank you for your letter and the pressed violet. My only wish is that you cover several pages rather than just one. I know that I am being greedy, but every message from you is a shining light and I hunger for every detail of home. I am so glad that wee Angus has recovered from his fever. I know you were feart, although you did not say so; it was written between every line. Please give him a kiss from his loving aunt and tell him that he must abide by your wishes and not play in the river until the weather has truly warmed.
It is so frustrating to be a new wife and considered young and silly. Ladies will not speak of certain matters in my presence and they quickly change the subject when I arrive. I know this is true, as I waited outside the door to the salon at my last visit and I heard Lady Anstruther ask Mrs Fraser whether she had heard of the new instrument Mr Simpson had devised and how it allowed him to listen ‘most accurately to the shape of the—’ I did not catch the last part of the sentence, and then I was no longer alone and had no choice but to enter the room whereupon the conversation was swiftly turned to Lady Anstruther’s fine headdress. It was beautiful, a circlet holding her long dark hair and festooned with wild brambles. Not pretend branches, but real brambles gathered from a bush. The other ladies thought this ingenious beyond the telling but I could only think of how it would be looked down upon in our dear Haddington, where artificial flowers are held in high esteem. Now I think on it, though, why the fakery should be preferred over the natural, I do not know.
I am trying to be a good wife but it is not always simple. Mr Lockhart is changeable in his moods and desires and I do not seem to please him often. I am trying, though, and will continue to do so. I must remember the pressure he feels and try to alleviate his discomfort in whichever way I can. A good wife soothes her husband and is a good companion. I miss you, Mary, and wish you were here to advise me.
Your loving Jessie
Stella had been feeling under the weather all day after fighting with Jamie. She told herself that she was just handling her client, the way she always did, but her heart told her otherwise. She cared. And she had been properly angry, not playacting. She hadn’t been lying to Esmé, but she had been lying to Jamie. No matter how silly or fanciful, she was a little bit worried about all that had gone on in Munro House – in her bleaker moments it felt as if the house could be cursed. There was something about the big lonely house and the stretch of grey water. Knowing that a girl had slipped on the rocks and died, just weeks before she arrived, did nothing to ease her foreboding.
But she didn’t want to leave, either. Her whole being was rooted to the place.
Stella felt her breath coming in small, hard-won sips, and considered cancelling her dinner date with Caitlin and Rob. People tended to think of heart problems causing pain in the chest, but it actually felt as if the problem was in your lungs. Stella’s breath got shallow, then it became impossible to take in even a tiny bit of air, nothing going in or out until her head began to swim with the lack of oxygen and her entire body went weak. Then there was the ringing in her ears, the sense of drowning on dry land.
She picked up her mobile, still debating whether to ask for a rain check, when the sight of the message on the display stopped her cold. Out of service. She looked around for a landline, even though she had been staying in the cottage for a couple of weeks and hadn’t seen one. Why would there be a landline for a holiday cottage, after all? Because the mobile reception out here is awful and it’s basic safety. Well, there was that, but most people weren’t as cautious, perhaps. Most people don’t have a higher-than-normal chance of a medical emergency, a small voice at the back of Stella’s mind added. She felt her chest tighten in response and she sat on the small sofa, taking deep slow breaths, reassuring herself that she still could.
After a few minutes, she put on her walking boots, hat and raincoat and set out. She kept checking her mobile phone, trying to find out the point at which it would work, and hoping that it wasn’t too far from her new bolthole. She passed the big house with no signal, but pushed her worry to one side. Something to think about another time.
The small hill which led up from the Munro estate and then down again into the village seemed to have grown in size since she last walked it, and halfway up the slope Stella was seriously considering going back for her car, red wine be damned. Her chest was tight and she could feel her pulse in her head, never a good sign. She slipped a hand into her jacket pocket and closed her fingers around the little pill box with her emergency beta blockers, standing still for a few moments and struggling to pull more air into her lungs.
After a while, she felt strong enough to carry on, and walked the rest of the slope in tiny, slow steps, stopping frequently.
The curtains were shut at Caitlin’s cottage, but light was shining through the material, casting a cheerful glow onto the frosty ground outside.
Stella could feel herself folding down, and she leaned against the door for a few moments, hoping that the buzzing in her muscles would subside. When she realised that she wasn’t getting better, she knocked anyway, figuring that a sit-down in the warm was preferable to collapsing on the frozen doorstep.
Caitlin opened the door mercifully quickly. Her welcoming smile disappearing in an instant. ‘Crap, you look terrible.’
Stella wanted to say something sarcastic but she didn’t have the breath.
Caitlin took Stella’s arm and helped her into the house, shutting the front door. Stella couldn’t speak and the buzzing sensation had turned to full numbness in her fingers, toes and lips. Her vision had narrowed to a tunnel and she felt herself slump.
‘Help us,’ Caitlin said when Rob appeared in the hallway. He was there in an instant, hands lifting and carrying and Stella was in a chair. She wanted to put her head down low to get some blood back to her brain but slumping forward would compress her lungs, so she leaned back instead. The ceiling had a stain on it and she concentrated on that and took small sips of oxygen, waiting for the black edges of her vision to recede.
‘What happened?’ Rob’s face was uncomfortably close. She could see the enlarged pores around his nose. ‘Did he do this?’
‘No,’ Stella managed, not sure who or what Rob was talking about.
‘I’m calling an ambulance,’ Caitlin said, her mobile in her hand.
‘No,’ Stella said, reaching for her. ‘Please don’t.’
‘Doctor, then. Someone,’ Rob said. He was spitting a little as he spoke. ‘If something’s happened you have to tell us. It can’t go on—’
Stella closed her eyes, her head was swimming but it was already better now that she was sitting down. ‘I’m fine.’
Her breathing was getting easier. ‘Pills.’ She drew the box from her jacket, but her fingers weren’t cooperating and it fell onto the floor.
Rob got a glass of water while Caitlin stooped awkwardly to retrieve it. She opened the clicky lid. ‘How many?’
Stella held up one finger and then swallowed the tablet. After a few more minutes she was able to speak. ‘Sorry to freak you out. I’m fine. Just overdid it.’
‘He’s working you too hard?’ Caitlin was frowning. ‘Or did he upset you?’
‘It’s not Jamie,’ Stella said.
‘It’s supposed to be a desk job,’ Caitlin said. ‘Quiet.’ She had her hands on her hips and she looked ready to storm Munro House and drag Jamie out by one earlobe.
‘It’s not his fault.’
‘How often do you have to take those?’ Rob said, eyeing the bottle of pills.
‘It varies,’ Stella said, her hand on her chest, feeling h
er heartbeat, which was still hammering away. ‘Not that often.’
‘I thought you were all better. After your last op—’
‘Mostly.’ Stella was willing her heart to slow. Blood was still pounding in her ears, making it difficult to think. It was like being at the bottom of an ocean, the pressure on her eardrums and nose and eyes. Her whole body shuddering with the runaway train in her chest. Sometimes she felt her heart was a weak, fluttering bird, and other times it seemed powerful enough to break her apart.
‘Tell us what happened,’ Rob said, and he was still too close. His face seemed weirdly magnified and his flushed skin made him look more angry than concerned. Stella had always thought of Rob as gentle and mild to the point of weakness. ‘We can’t help if we don’t know,’ he was saying. ‘If he—’
Caitlin shot him a ‘shut up’ look and Rob walked out of the room, muttering about getting a glass of water.
‘You want me to call someone?’ Caitlin said once they were on their own. ‘Your parents?’
‘No. Definitely not.’ Stella was feeling better already. The pill had worked its magic. ‘And if they call here, don’t you dare tell them.’
‘They have a right to know. If you’re not well—’
‘You know what they have a right to?’ Stella managed. ‘Peace of mind.’
‘But—’
‘No.’ Stella put all the force she could muster into the word, then repeated it again for good measure. ‘No.’
‘Okay.’ Caitlin had her hands up.
‘Do you know the only thing you can do when you have put your parents through hell? The very least you can do for the rest of your natural-born life?’ Stella knew she was shouting, but she couldn’t stop. The lack of breath made it a wheezy, quiet sort of shout, which just made her sound more unhinged. ‘The least you can do is not. Fucking. Worry them. Again.’ Her breath had gone again and her head was thumping. A band of pain cinched around her temples and forehead. Stella leaned back and closed her eyes.
She heard Rob and Caitlin speaking quietly, Caitlin having joined him in the hallway. Fair enough. Stella knew she had probably shown too much emotion, shocked them. Caitlin was always super-sensible. Not one for emotional displays.
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