ON DEVIL'S BRAE (A Psychological Suspense Thriller) (Dark Minds Mystery Suspense)

by Faith Mortimer

  Cassandra recalled the photograph of the young woman she had seen in Angus’s cottage. Back in January, she assumed the woman was a girlfriend of some sort. She never spotted her in the village, but of course, she might have lived far away. Since Angus spent many days away from Inverdarroch, he might have enjoyed her company during his absence. Cassandra tried hard not to feel anything for Angus, but she knew she was losing the battle. She woke in the night, sweating and panting after dreaming of events she never believed possible. Angus only had to look at her, raise one eyebrow in question, and laugh over one of her daft mistakes to make her feel soft and vulnerable inside. Cassandra was confused, overwhelmed, and at times completely miserable. For the first time in all her thirty-nine years she was desperately in love.

  As for the other inhabitants, they remained a mixed bag. The Campbells rose as soon as the first rays of light pierced the night sky. One or other would drive past on his tractor or mud-covered Land Rover, while the others shepherded their cows from the pastures through to the parlour for milking. Occasionally, Cassandra would catch sight of the sister with them, but it was rare if she looked her way. Mrs Campbell was as ever a dragon, breathing her hot, fiery breath down Cassandra’s neck when she called for a carton of cream or cheese. Cassandra stuck it out, knowing the malice stemmed from the woman and not herself.

  Cassandra saw Fiona from time to time: on average about twice a week. Fiona was a mix of characters, and although Cassandra tried hard, they had too little in common to be real friends. Cassandra didn’t actually mind her, once she got used to her quixotic manner and airy-fairy ways. She told Cassandra she longed to be a writer of some sort, but as she never produced anything much for Cassandra to read, except for some hackneyed poetry. She never knew whether to take her seriously. As far as Cassandra could tell, the only thing Fiona was serious about was her relationship with Donald. She was forever singing his praises. As for Donald, Cassandra couldn’t work him out at all. At first, she hardly saw him after her refusal to consider his offer, but she had seen him more recently around the village, often dressed in running shoes and a tracksuit. He wasn’t completely over the top with his friendliness, always pausing to have a chat whenever he came Cassandra’s way, but once he said goodbye, she was always left with the thought of how smarmy a character he would have been if he had turned on all his charm.

  Despite his oiliness, it passed through Cassandra’s mind Donald might still be smarting over her rejection of his offer for the cottage. Her suspicions were confirmed when Fiona once, unthinkingly, brought it up. She was in Cassandra’s garden leaning against the wall and watching Cassandra as she weeded the lettuce patch. “Are you going to stay here?” Fiona asked. “Donald is still ever so upset that you said no to his offer. He feels he has a right, you see, what with the cottage having been in his family. He always likes his own way.” She sighed, and moving away from the wall, sat back on her haunches.

  “But Fiona, it’s only a cottage. I could understand if it was some baronial home.”

  “I know. He’s just got a temper sometimes. Sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned it. It’s yours and not his. Donald might have to forget it.”

  “Look, if I do decide to sell, you’ll be the first to know. I believe I said it before—I have my reasons for staying here right now.”

  Fiona gave her a puzzled stare. “A lady of secrets, are you? I’ll tell him what you’ve said…it might mollify him. He can be a bit of a swine at times.”

  “They all can.” Cassandra stopped her hoeing and thought for a moment. “Sorry if I’m intruding, but he’s not violent, is he?”

  “Oh no, nothing like that. Donald’s too idle to lift a finger, except for his gym workouts and running.” She laughed. “He’s a gorgeous man, and I love him to bits, but he does have a mean streak all the same.”

  ***

  Cassandra often saw Elizabeth in the garden, and they would stand chatting over the wall. Cassandra considered her a nice woman, level-headed, and without a nasty word to say about anyone. They discussed all manner of things, and she found her to be knowledgeable and, above all, caring. It seemed like Lorna had the best person in the world as her companion. As she got to know Elizabeth better, Cassandra thought to ask her about the elusive Campbell sister.

  “Carol? Och, she’s all right on most occasions. She can be a wee bit strange, but I believe it’s just because she’s the shyest creature you’re ever likely to meet. In all the time Lorna and I have lived here, I’ve never held a long conversation with her.” She paused as if mulling something over and then continued. “You know, what that girl really needs is a friend, if you ask me. She’s stuck at the farm all day, with no company but her mother and brothers. She left school early…fifteen I believe she was and, as far as I know, hardly ever leaves the village, apart from the weekly trip to town when her mother goes to buy groceries. She drives the Land Rover, and I remember her brothers teaching her. If you meet Carol, don’t be put off. She’s just introverted.” Cassandra said she would try to talk to her if they met but secretly doubted it, as she had been there some time, and so far the girl seemed too timid.

  She saw less of Elizabeth’s sister, however. Sometimes she helped Elizabeth in the garden, but too often she would lose concentration, look vacant, and wander off to make a cup of tea or prepare a meal. She was pleasant to Cassandra and gave her a beaming smile whenever she stepped out of the house and never failed to invite her in for refreshment.

  “No, thank you, I’m just about to go in, actually,” Cassandra would say. But Lorna never heard her words. She would open the gate and usher her in, clucking around her like an old hen, while Elizabeth would smile indulgently and give Cassandra just the tiniest imperceptible shake of her head.

  Lorna was lost in her own world, imprisoned by the loss of her child. But she was inoffensive; there wasn’t one cell of harmful maliciousness in her body. Was there?

  Chapter 22 Late Summer, 2013, Inverdarroch

  Gradually the seasons changed. The days became shorter, and the temperatures dropped. Cassandra began to think nostalgically of log fires and how to work up her enthusiasm to ask Mrs Campbell if ‘the boys’ could rustle up a trailer-load of cut logs for her fire. It wasn’t because Cassandra was afraid of the old besom, but if she had the choice, she would rather have gone elsewhere with her business. Mrs Campbell’s three sons were taciturn with their greetings, but at least they weren’t rude like their mother. As for the uncle, he was as elusive as the daughter, and Cassandra wondered if he really existed. When Mrs Campbell or her sons were particularly miserable to Cassandra, she had a bit of fun by weaving daydreams in which Uncle Archie had been done away with by a hook-nosed witch, who bore an uncanny resemblance to the chatelaine of Lochend farm.

  Julian had been up for a week’s stay, and together they had done a lot to the cottage. Just before he left, they walked round and discussed what they had accomplished in such a short time. Shadow Vale was so different from the Spartan place she first inherited. As she ran her hand over the surfaces in the kitchen, she saw how clean and fresh everything looked. The windows fitted well and didn’t leak, the walls were all painted, much of the old wiring was ripped out and replaced, the floors sanded in the bedrooms, and the garden was unrecognisable. The gate and fences were all standing, the stream unblocked so it didn’t spill over onto the lawn, brambles and nettles and weeds removed and kept down. “It’s time to call a halt,” she said. “I’ll start again in the spring.”

  Julian took his familiar stroll around the hamlet while Cassandra prepared a final breakfast. He was gone longer than usual, and on his return he looked thoughtful.

  “I’ve been talking to Angus,” he said. “How well do you know him?”

  “Quite well. As much as anyone I know here, I suppose,” she replied, her radar antennae bristling.

  “Hmm. Well, I’ve always thought he was a sensible and responsible sort of chap whenever we’ve chatted…a bit boring maybe. Anyway, I explained how th
ings are between us—you know, about our understanding. He seemed to get the gist of it at once. I suppose you’ve seen the photo of the tasty-looking redhead in his place. I asked him about her, and when pushed, he admitted she was his wife. I wonder why she doesn’t live here. Mind you, seeing as he spends a lot of time away, he’s probably got another house tucked away somewhere. He’s certain to be worth a bob or two, as he’s well known all over the world.”

  Cassandra felt herself pale and ignored Julian’s prattling about Angus’s wealth and fame. “You what? What understanding?” She narrowly avoided clenching her teeth.

  Julian took a step back. “Hey, why the barbed look? I just wanted him to know what we’d talked about earlier in the year. And I also thought it reasonable that if he was worried about anything, he could contact me. Let me know if you were fed up or in trouble and I could be up here in a flash.”

  Far from feeling placated, Cassandra felt infuriated. How dare Julian interfere? She was capable of standing on her own feet, and apart from that, he must have given Angus quite the wrong idea about how things stood between them. How on earth was she going to explain without being obvious? Her shoulders slumped as Julian’s bombshell really sank in. A wife, Julian said…she might have known. Men as gorgeous as Angus were never single.

  As she waved goodbye to Julian, she was glad to see his flashy Porsche disappear from the valley. It was going to be some time before she let herself be talked into having him to stay with her again.

  ***

  Later that day, still feeling low after hearing Julian’s bombshell, Cassandra went for a walk to clear her head. The sun, still warm and shining brightly, was already dropping in the sky, the purple shadows cutting long across the mauve heather. A sudden breeze ruffled her hair, and she smelt the tang of autumn soil. Was it really nearly a year ago she first walked in the valley of Inverdarroch? She glanced at the trees and noticed the subtle change of colour—autumn’s golden gown—and once again, she saw there were succulent berries, glistening on the bramble bushes. She thought of one of her favourite songs, and the lyrics which never failed to bring a bitter-sweet feeling of despondency into her heart…

  The summer sun is fading as the year grows old,

  and darker days are drawing near.

  The winter winds will be much colder,

  now you're not here...

  Cassandra paused, a lump at the back of her throat.

  ...a gentle rain falls softly on my weary eyes,

  as if to hide a lonely tear.

  My life will be forever autumn

  ‘cos you're not here…

  Oh Angus. Life wasn’t fair. For the first time, she had met someone who was capable of knocking her off her feet. Throughout her life, she planned on being sensible and forthright, meeting life head on, fair and square. Sure, there were boyfriends, but no one she considered extra special. Now, out of nowhere, Angus had appeared, and he was already taken.

  She ploughed on, head down, fighting back the tears of self-pity. I’ll not let it get me down, she thought fiercely. He must never know how I feel. If friendship is all I can expect, then so be it. I’ll treasure his friendship, and if things become unbearable, I’ll sell up and leave.

  She shivered as the sun disappeared behind a large black cloud. If she left, no one would miss her. She had lived there since the middle of January without ever really having been accepted. A few were friendly, but apart from Angus, she had no more than scratched the surface. As the months passed, inviting her friends to stay and accepting their help with the house, she had just watched the world go by. And she had a strange uneasy feeling the valley had done the same.

  She still felt the familiar prickling whenever she glanced at the hill summit and felt its silent presence as it lay over her life. She wondered if the valley was cursed. Was it waiting for the right moment to infringe upon her? Violate before squeezing the life out of her?

  The sun burst from behind the cloud, and she gave an involuntary laugh. How stupid she was sometimes! Given to fancies. For heaven’s sake, Cassandra, this is reality—walking in the valley, exploring, living my life. This was her choice, being there. She liked the cottage. It was so much nicer all spruced up and most things fixed. Staying there was what she wanted…wasn’t it? And in truth, she was feeling better and free. Her sanity was healthier than eight months earlier, and she had no intention of slipping back into despondency. She didn’t even have to go back and do the same job back in Liverpool. Rosie and Cynthia could easily find another accomplished photographer. Cassandra could become independent. She fancied being a free-lance photographer, taking marvellous photographs of nature and out-of-the-way places.

  Most importantly—if she stayed here, she would see and be near Angus, even if their relationship couldn’t move on.

  She gave one last glance to the brae and scanned the area. It looked empty, but when the wind blew she thought she heard a faint call, thin and mocking on the breeze. “Imagination,” she whispered, knowing deep inside she was lying.

  ***

  “So we’ll see you Friday afternoon,” Rosie said before finishing the call. Cassandra was pleased, her last visitors of the year and her best friends. She was determined to make their stay an enjoyable one.

  That weekend they were lucky. During most of the last few weeks, the weather had been spectacular. There was high pressure all over the country, making the combination of blue skies, cool crisp temperatures and early autumn foliage on the trees a memorable experience. The daytime temperatures settled round an almost balmy range between twelve to fifteen degrees Celsius.

  Cassandra was adamant she wanted Rosie and Cynthia to relax and do nothing. They had to be back at work all too soon, and besides, she had put all further renovations on hold until the following year.

  “So you’re determined to stick it out then?” Cynthia said when they were lying back against the wall, basking in the sun. “Be a martyr on your own.” The three had picked the most sheltered spot in the garden and were taking advantage of the fine weather. Later, when the sun dropped and the chill rose, they planned to venture back indoors and lounge round the fire, drinking red wine, eating chocolates and chatting. It would be the perfect evening for three women who had been friends for over ten years.

  Cassandra kept her eyes closed against the sun as she smiled at her words. Cynthia was always the more scathing of her friends and had never been one to tread carefully over her choice of words. “You’re forgetting I’m not alone. It’s not as if I’m the only house in the valley.”

  “Right. You’ve got the lot over on the funny farm.” She gave what could only be described as a snort. “And it’s bound to be bloody cold, come December. You’ve not put central heating in, I notice, despite Julian’s advice.”

  Julian must have put her up to it. Despite him saying what a marvellous place the valley was, she knew he wished she would sell the place and put it into something he could really admire—especially if he owned half of it, too. “If it gets too much, then I have a choice, don’t I?” She opened her eyes, stifling back a sigh. “Look, loads of people live in far worse places. I can easily get in my car and come down. The flat’s empty, I can just move back in. It’s not a problem.” But it was. Cassandra didn’t want to give in and have them say, ‘told you so’. She knew the pull of the valley loomed over her in some odd inexplicable way, and she had to see it out. Something lurked…was waiting to pounce, but what and…why?

  She still felt the stares from various houses when she walked up the road. From the heartless Mrs Campbell, her dull rough sons, the sad and morose Elizabeth, crazy Lorna, and unfathomable Donald. She thought that being on friendlier terms with Carol, she had managed to get through to her, but even she still peeked at Cassandra from behind the front-room curtains if it took her fancy. She felt they all observed, all snooped, all speculated, in their own way.

  “Why, Cassandra?” she persisted. “Rosie and I think you’re just being bloody pig-headed by staying.�
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  “Hey!” Rosie removed her sunglasses and sat up. “Don’t bring me into it. I’ve said all along I might not feel comfortable with it, but it is Cassandra’s choice.”

  “Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she backed down. “If we can’t persuade you, I won’t say any more.”

  “Look, I’m chuffed you both care, really I am. And grateful too. But it’s only for a few more months, after which, I promise I’ll return.” Ever since learning about Angus’s wife, she had thought about leaving more than once. Despite remaining good friends with Angus, she couldn’t see anything developing, and she wasn’t about to break up a marriage. She had seen enough of that during her life. She had spent a lifetime taking thousands of photographs of happy couples, only to hear later how this marriage or that partnership had floundered and failed. She had no right to anyone else’s husband.

  That weekend they walked miles, filling empty plastic tubs with blackberries, rich juice running down their chins, staining their fingers. Cassandra tried her hand at making bramble and apple jam, the lush pungent smell filling the cottage, while Rosie made pastry for a pie. They dined well on roast pork with crackling and apple sauce, followed by Rosie’s pudding smothered in thick cream and Cynthia’s contribution of luscious spicy Shiraz and homemade Belgian chocolates. They laughed and joked, argued, and cheated at cards, knowing it would soon be time for Cynthia and Rosie to head south.

  As they piled their bags into the boot of Rosie’s Renault, Cynthia tried to coax Cassandra. “So what about Christmas? Can’t we tempt you down to stay? The children would love to see their Auntie Cassie.”

  Cassandra smiled, almost tempted, but she shook her head. “It’s too early to say. Can I let you know next month?” she added, when she saw Cynthia’s disappointed look.