Voice in the Mist
Page 24
“And Lemerre was my jailer at Barradale,” said Drew.
“The other one?” asked Henry, cautiously. “Morgan?”
“No – and no real ideas yet. But the really good news is we have recovered everything that has been reported missing and – you will enjoy this, Miss Rebecca – Mr Simon Sibley is behind bars in Glasgow, singing like a sparrow and formally charged with masterminding the whole business. We’ll not be seeing him around for a while, I think.”
“About twenty-five years, with any luck,” said Dougie.
“Sounds much like what you people call ‘a result’, Inspector,” said Henry, smiling.
“Indeed. Oh! And the other thing I heard is that the Honourable Mr Gordon MP will be announcing later today that he has resigned from the government.”
“Was he involved, then?” asked Dougie from the window.
“No suggestion of that. But allowing his house to be used as the base for a bunch of criminals was publicity his political masters probably thought they could do without.”
The Inspector drained the cup of coffee and stood up.
“Well, I’d best be on my way. Before I go though I wanted to pass on our sincere thanks to you all, particularly to you …” he had turned to face Rebecca.
“I’m not sure I gave you the credit you deserve, Miss Rebecca. You had things pretty much figured out. You’ll have to reveal your source one day.”
Nobody seemed to notice Drew splutter into his coffee.
CHAPTER 28 – The Unfinished Journal
On her last afternoon at Rahsaig, Rebecca was sitting reading in the library. Rain was lashing down outside and she was glad to be inside in the dry, a warm fire burning in the hearth. She was so comfortable and cosy that she gently dozed off.
She came to with a sudden start, a cold draught around her legs. The fire had gone out.
Rebecca frowned. She did not think she could have been asleep that long.
An odd sensation took hold of her, as if somebody had just been there in the room with her and left suddenly. She went over to the window and looked outside.
As she turned away, she noticed something on the edge of the desk. She picked it up.
Becca’s journal!
Rebecca was baffled.
“I don’t understand” she muttered. “ … How did this get here? It’s … I left it upstairs.”
She flicked over the pages. All of a sudden, she stopped, her mouth open.
“This is new!”
Rebecca sat down beside the fire and read aloud.
To a friend,
Never forget that time is ever-lasting.
The people we are and the things we do echo beyond our mortal lives.
We are the people we have always been and always will be.
I live on through you and you have lived through me.
May time know us always, you and me.
Becca McOwan
Rebecca looked up and out of the window. She was certain she had seen a flash of something crimson pass by.
CHAPTER 29 – Coming Home
Henry McOwan was not able to take Rebecca to the station to see her off, owing to an unavoidable appointment on Skye. He said his goodbyes at Rahsaig, with a bear hug.
“Back to dear old London, then? It won’t be the same around here without you, lass. You sure liven things up, although I think we could probably do with a little bit less excitement for a while! You will take the journal? It’s right it should be yours.”
“Thank you, Uncle. I’m very pleased to have it but it should stay here – it belongs at Rahsaig, Becca’s home – the home of all the McOwans. I can read it whenever I visit.”
“I’ve been thinking on Morgan and the oubliette,” said Henry, quietly.
“Maybe it really was him that died in there all those years ago… Puts things to rest. That man who came here was no brother of mine.”
“I hope we are rid of Lachlan,” said Rebecca.
“I’ll never forget that look in his eyes…” Her voice tailed off.
As they passed through the Great Hall on their way out, Rebecca lagged behind to stop by the painting of Knut and Hakon. For a few moments she stood gazing up at it, as she had done on that first afternoon at Rahsaig.
“Time has stood still in yesterday’s shroud …” She smiled. Her eyes dwelt on Knut and the white, haunting stare of the Wolf.
“Goodbye, old friends,” she whispered.
“Keep a watch over everybody for me.”
Catching up with Henry, she fell into step with him as they crossed the lawn.
Henry grasped her hand for a moment as they stood on the landing stage and smiled.
“Come back and see us again soon, won’t you?”
“Aye, I will.”
He smiled at her put-on Scottish accent.
Rebecca suddenly felt quite sad as she waved him off. She would miss her uncle.
In her experience an adult who listened to what she said, did not patronise her and allowed her to live by her own decisions, was unusual. He had shown her one could always look at things in a different way. She would be back.
Around her neck she was wearing Becca’s locket, which she fingered thoughtfully as Henry’s boat disappeared down the loch towards Skye.
***
Drew and Dougie both arrived with the boat to take her to Mallaig, even though she knew they were supposed to be working. Rebecca was pleased by the unspoken compliment. As they all stood together on the station platform, she knew she would miss her new friends. For once, none of them knew what to say.
Eventually, Dougie broke the silence.
“Well, you have a safe trip and mind you come back here and see us one day not too far away. I must go and see Willie, so you’ll forgive me if I don’t hang about. Not much of a one for goodbyes, anyway.”
He bent down and kissed her quickly on the cheek.
“Thanks for everything, older Campbell brother,” smiled Rebecca.
“And get yourself a girlfriend or I’ll send some try-ons up from London,” she added as he began to walk away. Dougie laughed and waved his arm in the air, without turning.
At the end of the platform, she saw Willie sitting in a van waiting. She caught his eye for a moment and waved. McHarg simply nodded in his calm, imperturbable way.
Rebecca smiled. She might be leaving but life would go on up here the same as normal.
The Fort William train was now pulling in to the station and Rebecca bent to pick up her shoulder bag. She looked up at Drew, who was fidgeting nervously. He caught her gaze and looked quickly down at his feet. Rebecca could not help giggling.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said. “Erm… look, I just wanted to say … We’ll miss you.”
He still looked unsettled.
“Never thought I’d say that to the English.”
Rebecca smiled again.
“Well, seeing as mobiles don’t work round here and I can’t teach you the modern art of texting, you’d better write to me, hadn’t you?”
Drew’s countenance brightened up immediately.
“Aye, letters, that’s good. Old fashioned. I do email too, you know.”
He leaned down, picked up her bags and swung them into the luggage rack inside the train. He came back out onto the platform. Rebecca stepped up into the doorway and took a last look around, across the sea and the loch to the islands and mountains that she had come to know so well in the last few weeks, basking peacefully in the sunshine.
“It always leaves you like this,” said Drew.
“Rain when you arrive, sunshine when you leave to call you back again.”
“Bleak,” she said, shaking her head.
“Beautiful,” said Drew. They both laughed.
Drew regarded her for a second or so, as the guard blew his whistle.
“Well?
“Well what?”
“I know we’re all backward in these parts but it is customary to kiss a friend goodbye.<
br />
Anything less would be inhospitable.”
Rebecca’s brown eyes flashed.
“Get on with it then!”
Layout: Stephen M.L. Young
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