by Cavendish
“And the little girl with no face,” Mairead said. “Isobel. What’s her link to all this?”
Hannah shook her head. “Maybe we’ll find that out too.”
* * *
The last of the visitors had left. It was Ailsa’s day off and George locked up the shop.
“OK, let’s do this,” he said.
Still dressed in their character clothes, the three guides trooped down to Henderson Close. Hannah shivered.
“You feel it too?” Mairead asked, hugging herself, while George blew on his hands.
Hannah spoke and her breath misted in front of her. “The temperature must have gone down ten degrees or more since my last tour.”
“Come on, ladies. Let’s get this over with.”
George led the way along the familiar rough surface until they reached Murdoch Maclean’s shop.
“Can you feel that?” Mairead asked. “It’s like something’s waiting.”
The unnatural silence hung heavy. Hannah glanced quickly around. A shadow moved.
“Let’s go inside,” George said and Hannah followed him, Mairead bringing up the rear.
“Should we hold hands, or something?” Hannah said. “With any luck that’ll make sure if we go anywhere, we go together.”
She linked hands with the others.
“OK,” George said. “I guess we just wait and see if anything happens.”
“There’s something outside the shop,” Mairead said.
“Where?” George stared into the gloom.
“I can’t see it. Not properly. But there’s definitely something there.”
“I feel it too. And it’s not friendly.” Hannah’s senses were taut. Something tugged at her mind, trying to get in. She fought against it. It pushed harder. Her head throbbed. Both Mairead and George had their eyes closed tightly. George’s face had contorted into a grimace. Mairead looked in extreme pain.
“What…are you…both feeling?” Hannah asked, barely able to get the words out for the pain that stabbed at her.
Mairead struggled to speak, her eyes still shut. “A force. Something thrusting its way in. It’s…so hard…to…stop it.”
“Same here,” George said through clenched teeth, as a new wave of excruciating pain left Hannah breathless. She shut her eyes and, instantly, the atmosphere changed. She felt Mairead and George’s hands tighten their grip on hers. A smell of rotting vegetation and manure swamped her nostrils. Then the noise began. Faint at first, then building. Voices, clattering hooves, neighing horses.
“What? Three of ye and none of ye look like ye belang here.”
Hannah recognized the gruff male voice. She opened her eyes as Mairead and George did the same. Murdoch Maclean wiped ink-stained hands on his apron.
“I think ye’d better tell me what your business is here.”
George looked from Hannah to Mairead. The look of sheer bewilderment on his face spoke volumes.
“Mr. Maclean,” Hannah began. “I realize we must seem very odd to you, but I assure you we mean no harm to you or anyone here. If possible, we could do with your help. We need to find Donald Bain.”
If Murdoch Maclean’s eyes could have grown any larger they would have surely popped out of his head. “Donal’ Bain? Now what would ye be wanting wi’ that young skellum?”
George recovered himself. “Do you know him, Mr. Maclean?”
The printer made a sucking noise with his remaining teeth. “Yes, I know him. All the folk around here know him. He’s the de’il himsel’ when he has a mind.”
“That’s why we need to find him,” Mairead said. “He’s committed a terrible crime.”
“Just the one?” Murdoch Maclean let out a laugh. “The lad hasna’ a guid bone in his body. He came out wrong and he’s been wrong ever since.”
“What do you mean? Came out wrong?” George asked.
“Came out erse end firs’.”
“Ah. Breech.”
“Aye. His faither said when he opened his eyes, he saw the de’il himself staring out at him.”
“That must have been frightening.”
Again the printer let out a mirthless laugh. “Mackenzie Bain doesna’ know the difference between a lie and the truth. I nivver believe a word that comes out of his mouth.”
Hannah tried again. “Do you know where we can find his son? It’s really important.”
Murdoch Maclean looked at them disbelievingly. “Ye go out in the Close looking like that and ye won’t have to find him. He’ll find ye. And he’ll have the clothes off ye. Even if they do look like ye’ve stepped off the stage of the Music Hall.”
“There’s a reason we’re dressed this way but it isn’t important,” Hannah said. “Finding Donald Bain is. We don’t know how much time we have here.”
The printer looked from one to the other, shrugged and cleared his throat. “Ye’ll more than likely find him in Farquhars Close. Up to na good as usual.”
“Thank you, Mr. Maclean.”
They left. Hannah was only too aware of the printer’s eyes watching them go.
As they emerged into the pale sunlight, the shadow that had watched them drifted away.
“You saw that, right?” Hannah asked, nodding in the direction she had last seen the apparition.
George nodded. “If you mean the thing that looked like a scarecrow, yes.”
“To me it looked more like a tall, skinny man,” Mairead said.
Hannah shook her head. “I saw a shadow. Dark and indistinct. I couldn’t have told you what it was, whether it was human or animal or neither.”
George exhaled loudly. “So now we’re all seeing different things.”
Hannah looked up and down the busy street. “Maybe it’s because whatever it is moves so fast. Our brains are interpreting the signals in different ways.”
“Sounds plausible,” George said. “Come on, let’s find this Donald Bain.”
“Who’s looking for me?”
Hannah jumped. Where had he appeared from? Judging by the expressions on her friends’ faces, they hadn’t heard him approach either. Instinctively she moved to one side, away from him.
“Are you Donald Bain?” George asked.
“Aye. What of it?” The young man puffed on a thin cigarette. His cold, grey eyes looked the two women up and down.
“He is. I recognize him.” Hannah said. “Although he looks a little different than when I last saw him. Are you familiar with a Miss Carmichael?”
“Why would I be?”
The gravelly voice belied his years. He sounded like an old man, a lifelong heavy smoker. He even wheezed like one. Hannah could feel hatred and anger pouring out of him. As far as this man was concerned, the world and everyone in it was his enemy.
George spoke. “She visits around here, helping the people who live here.”
“That stuck-up auld cow. I’ve na time for her type. She’s dead anyway.”
“What?” Hannah grabbed Mairead’s hand. “What’s the date?”
“What?”
“The date. What is today’s date?”
“April 3rd.”
“And the year?”
He laughed. “You’re quair folk. It’s 1892.”
“We’re too late,” Mairead said. She shook Hannah’s hand off and took a step toward the boy. “You murdering bastard.”
George held her back. “Mairead.”
“Aye, ye do right ta warn her off,” Bain said. “I’ll no ha’ any slag threatening me.”
Hannah clenched her fists. “I heard they caught her killers,” she said.
Mairead and George stared at her. Then George slowly and almost imperceptibly inclined his head, while he kept a firm restraining hand on Mairead.
Hannah cleared her throat. “They hanged them didn’t they?”
> Bain eyed her suspiciously. “Aye.”
“But one escaped. The one who actually killed her. They haven’t found him, have they?”
“There’s nae one ta find.”
Hannah took a deep breath. “Some say it was you.”
Bain’s eyes flashed. His lip curled. “Some folk need ta mind their own.”
Mairead’s voice shook. “Miss Carmichael was a good friend to the people around here.”
“She was an interfering auld cow.”
“You killed her.”
Donald Bain balled his hand into a fist and drew his arm back. George pushed Mairead behind him and took the full force of the blow to his cheek. He fell back. Mairead tripped and steadied herself. She seemed disoriented but Hannah couldn’t worry about that now. She grabbed Bain’s arm, catching him off-guard.
“Let go of me, cow!” he yelled.
George gave him no chance to wriggle free. Recovering himself, he grabbed the other arm. “It’s time you faced justice for what you did.”
“Justice was more than what you gave Miss Carmichael,” Hannah said.
Bain struggled but Hannah’s anger gave her added strength, and George was probably twice his size.
Conversations paused, people turned to stare and a few smiled at the sight of Henderson Close’s least favorite resident being frog- marched up the street. At the junction with Farquhars Close, a group of men stood in a huddle. Armed with improvised weapons, they looked in surprise at Bain, who was mouthing obscenities.
“Here’s your murderer,” George said, keeping a firm grip on the man’s right arm.
One of the men brandished a plank of wood studded with nails. “Ye saved us a job. We guard this street from the likes of him.”
“He’s the killer who was never caught. He killed Miss Carmichael.”
The man stared, then slowly shook his head. His friends muttered among themselves, also shaking their heads.
“But he has to be,” Hannah said. “He and the Auld De’il are one and the same.”
One of the men laughed. “Eh lassie, that’s a good one.”
“I nivver touched her,” Bain said.
“If I didnae know different, I’d say the same as these folks.” The leader fingered his weapon. “Ye’re certainly capable of it and we ken that it was ye who robbed the Lamonts and took all their food and what little money they had. Ye’re a wrong ’un and na mistake but ye’re no Auld De’il. Gi’e him ta us and we’ll tak’ care o’him.”
George tightened his grip. “How do you know it wasn’t him?”
“Because the day she died, he was locked up. Drunk and disorderly.”
Hannah and George exchanged looks.
* * *
Mairead was aware her friends had dragged Bain off. She managed to follow them for a few steps, then faltered. She stared at the little girl in front of her. Isobel – she was clutching a doll. It had to be her. All around them, it seemed as if time had stopped. Nothing moved, only the child and her.
The little girl raised her hand and pointed at Mairead’s head. A memory shot back, clear as if it had only happened moments before. A hospital. White walls. People moving around. Sick people. Not sick in body. Sick in their minds. She was in her body, looking down at her arm. A name bracelet. ‘Mairead Ferguson’. Someone was speaking to her.
“You can go home, Mairead. You’ve done so well.”
“I don’t have a home.”
“We’ve found one for you. It’s a hostel. You’ll be safe there. As long as you take your medication and attend your appointments.”
The vision faded. The little girl had gone.
* * *
Hannah’s stomach lurched. Nausea rose up her gut. George must be feeling it too. And Mairead? She was standing some distance away, almost doubled over. Hannah knew she had followed them but something hadn’t been quite right with her. She had moved like an automaton. Hannah had been too preoccupied with Bain then. Now she went over to her.
“Mairead? Are you all right?”
Mairead retched.
“George?”
“I’m coming, Hannah.”
Hannah reached for George and Mairead’s hands as the street faded. Pressure mounted until Hannah had to close her eyes. The street sounds and smells evaporated.
A second later and they were back in their own time, in Henderson Close, outside Murdoch Maclean’s shop.
Mairead coughed. “Now what do we do?”
“God knows,” George said.
“We have to go back to Farquhars Close,” Hannah said. “Stand near the pentagram and call out again.” She moved off. The others followed.
“I don’t see what good it will do,” Mairead said. “But I haven’t any other suggestions. I was so sure Donald Bain was the killer. Even Miss Carmichael believed it, only she said he didn’t act alone.”
“We all believed it,” Hannah said. “As the man said, it could have been him by nature but even he couldn’t be in two places at once.”
“Are you sure about that?” George asked. “Right now, I’m prepared to believe almost anything where that runt is concerned.” He opened the door and steered them through into Farquhars Close.
Once again, Hannah was struck by the awful stench of sulfur. Mairead covered her nose and George scowled.
“It’s here. Whatever it is,” he said.
The ground trembled, then settled. A ball of dark mist rolled toward them, spreading tentacles of its stinking self in all directions. The three friends reached for each other’s hands. But as Hannah’s fingers touched Mairead’s, she recoiled from the shock.
“Oh my God.” Her fingers throbbed but she tried again. Mairead reached for her but fell to one side.
“Something pushed me,” she cried. “It’s got me! I can’t.…” George and Hannah tried to reach her, but came up against an invisible wall that beat them back each time.
“Mairead. Hang on!” George surged forward again only to be thrust backward and off his feet.
Hannah helped him up and they locked hands, charging at the force-field.
Mairead was being dragged away. She clawed at the ground, trying to find a handhold. Failing. She screamed. “I can’t break free!”
A rushing noise like a mighty storm filled the Close.
Mairead lurched forward again. “No!”
The ground trembled again and a void opened up in the ground in front of them.
“It’s dragging me to the edge!” Mairead screamed.
Without warning, the force-field let Hannah and George through. They grabbed Mairead and she held on fast, but her grip weakened as the invisible force doubled its strength. A massive tug and Mairead was wrenched from their arms. Her screams descended with her into the blackness below. As they watched in horror, the ground sealed itself.
George put his arms around Hannah and she wept on his shoulder.
“We’ve lost her,” she said.
The darkness deepened around them.
“What’s that noise?” George asked.
Voices. Whispering. Murmuring indistinctly.
“It’s all around us.” Hannah clung tightly to George. They couldn’t be separated now. “Look.” Where the void had been, letters were forming on the ground.
As the words took shape, Hannah read them out. “‘Find…my…killer.’” Miss Carmichael, if this is you, we’ve tried. We thought it was Donald Bain but we know it can’t have been. Now we’ve lost our friend. Please help us and we’ll carry on trying to find your killer. I promise.”
“What the hell is going on here?” Ailsa strode into Farquhars Close and she was beyond angry.
George let Hannah go. “We’re looking for Mairead. She came down here and now she’s missing.”
“Not again! That’s it. I’ve had it with that one.
If she’s not back at work tomorrow, I’m sacking her. Who were you talking to just now? I heard you mention Miss Carmichael. It sounded like you were calling out to someone.”
Hannah improvised. “It was nothing. While we looked for Mairead, I was thinking of a new scene I could act out when we finally get Farquhars Close up and running. It seemed appropriate as we were down here. Daft really, I suppose.”
Hannah’s eyes drifted over to where the writing had appeared. The ground had returned to its usual stony appearance. No trace of any words now.
Ailsa looked at her a little too curiously for Hannah’s liking. She forced herself to maintain eye contact.
Finally Ailsa took a deep breath. “Clearly she’s not here and I’ve just come along Henderson Close. She’s not there either. I suggest we all make our way back to the shop, lock up and go home, which is what you two should have done an hour or more ago.”
* * *
In the pub twenty minutes later, Hannah sipped her cider. “What was Ailsa doing there anyway? It’s her day off. She had no reason to come in.”
“I was thinking the same thing. There was something else about her that was odd too.”
“I didn’t notice anything. What did I miss?”
“Her ring. The signet ring she always wears on the third finger of her right hand.”
“What about it?”
“She was wearing it on the little finger of her left hand. Now everyone knows, the fingers of the dominant hand will generally be slightly larger than those of the other hand. Ailsa is right-handed, so how could that same ring have fitted snugly on the smallest finger on her left?”
Hannah shrugged. “Maybe she had it altered?”
“Maybe, but.… Where did the mole on her left cheek come from?”
“Mole?” Hannah thought back to their encounter with their boss. She mentally traced her face. George was right. On her left cheekbone. A small mole. “You’re right. It didn’t register with me at the time. I was too busy trying to come up with a plausible excuse. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”
“That it wasn’t Ailsa in Farquhars Close.”
“George. We’ve got to go back. Now.”
