Entwined (30 page)

Duncan grunted his reply whilst doing up his trouser zip then bent to retrieve his bag and turned toward the door.

“Why have you asked me to look in the paddock for the horses? It’s night, surely they will have been stabled by now?”

Eilidh dropped the cloth bag she was filling and turned to face him. “Duncan, there is no one here to stable the horses. If there are any left alive they will be in the paddock. Any animals stabled will be long since dead. Can’t you smell them?”

He could now that she mentioned it and the sudden realization brought the rise of bile to the back of his throat.

“I would like to leave here,” he said, throwing his bag over his shoulder.

“And we will, just as soon as we have what we are going to need,” Eilidh said, softly.

“I’ll see if there are any horses left alive then, shall I?”

She nodded. “If you are up to it.”

“And this cart you have been on about, where will I find that?”

“You don’t need to. I know exactly where it is.”

“And that would be?”

“Around the back of the cottage. Pa bought it a few weeks before… well, it’s quite new.”

“Right,” Duncan said, opening the cottage door and disappearing into the night.

“I don’t think he likes it here very much,” Eilidh whispered to Amber. “Don’t tell him but I don’t like either. One of us has to think about tomorrow and the tomorrow after that. Come on, girl, let’s find my Pa’s money.”

Eilidh was right; the stables were full to overflowing with rotting carcasses. Duncan didn’t bother to investigate further than what his nose told him.

“Any luck finding the tin?” he asked, spotting Eilidh standing beside a loaded cart outside the front door.

“Aye, it was exactly where I remembered it to be.”

“I found two horses.”

“I can see that.”

“Do we need both?”

“Probably not, but I didn’t much fancy leaving one to the same fate as those in the stables.”

She nodded. “Shall we saddle one and let the other pull the cart?

“Sounds good to me,” Duncan said, “but before you do, I want to get something from the main house.”

“The main house? Why?”

“There’s something in the house I need. Shannon either didn’t survive the trip back in time or she was thrown somewhere else. Whichever, she certainly isn’t here and nor is anyone else so I can’t see any danger in at least looking for what I want.”

“Aye, you are probably right and there might still be some of your own clothes in there too.”

“That’s a good thought, Eilidh,” he said, rubbing the rough stubble of his chin. “A cutthroat would be nice too.”

“Any thoughts on where we should go?”

“I do,” he said, turning towards the main house.

“Well then?”

“York.”

“Why would we want to go back there?”

“Because I know what we have been sent here to do.”

******

CHAPTER 32

Duncan put his hand to the door knob and turned it. With a gentle push it swung open. He turned to Eilidh, a broad grin filling his face.

“You were right,” she said, smiling back. “What made you so sure Shannon hadn’t locked the door?”

“Because she didn’t think she had anything to fear,” he said simply, making his way through the narrow corridor into the kitchen.

It felt incredibly strange; being there in what had been his home. He resisted the urge to call out for his Ma and shook himself as an image of his Pa coming through the kitchen door with a glass of whisky in his hand filled his mind.

“I understand how you feel,” Eilidh said, coming to stand beside him.

Duncan shrugged, shaking the distraction from his mind.

“I’m going to Pa’s study. Do you want to come or would you rather see what you can find in the kitchen?”

“I’ll come with you,” she said following him down the hall.

“He used to keep them in here,” Duncan said, moving purposefully toward a door at the end of his father’s office.

“I always wondered what was through that door,” Eilidh said, watching with interest as he turned the handle. It swung gently open to reveal a long thin space, much like a large cupboard.

“Your Pa liked his books,” she said, staring wide-eyed at a neat row of leather bound books and journals on a shelf.

“Aye, he was obsessively insistent that both Ma and I learnt the art of reading and writing,” he paused thoughtfully and then turned to face Eilidh. “Who taught you?”

“Marta taught me,” she said, casting her eyes longingly over the hundreds of leather spines staring out at her from the book case.

“Did you much enjoy the lessons?” he asked.

Eilidh smiled gently up at him. “Aye, Duncan, I enjoyed them very much.”

“Would you like some of my Pa’s books?”

Eilidh looked at him with surprise. “Do we have space in the cart for them?”

“Not all of them, no, but I am sure we can find the space for one or two. That is, if you were wanting them.”

“Oh, Duncan, that would be wonderful. I adore books,” she cried passionately. “Thank you.”

“I thought as much,” he said, slipping the bag off his shoulders.

“You did?”

He smiled at her tenderly.

“How?”

He laughed. “When you first took me to see the lorry, I couldn’t help but notice the fair bit of space you had dedicated to boxes labeled books.”

“Oh,” she said, somewhat shocked. “I didn’t collect them for myself. They were for the villagers, a treat, something to lighten the evenings over the long winter months.”

“I know,” he said, sliding his arms around her and moving his hand to the back of her head. Cupping it gently he drew her toward him and covered her mouth with his in a gentle loving kiss.

When at last he released her she stepped back and stared up at him with wide questioning eyes.

“Do you think me foolish?”

“Foolish?” he frowned.

“Aye. To have used valuable space in the lorry for books?”

“Quite the contrary. I am just sorry that you will not have the opportunity to benefit from them.”

“But I told you - they weren’t for me.”

“I know that,” he said giving her a curious stare. “I don’t think I have ever known you do anything for yourself.”

She lowered her eyes and shrugged.

“I kept Amber,” she said, nodding at the dog that was busily sniffing at the skirting boards for traces of rodents. “That was very much something I wanted to do.”

Duncan slid his hands into his trouser pockets and stood considering her comment for a moment.

“That was one thing, Eilidh. One small thing that you did for yourself. Most people do most things for themselves, with little or no thought for others.”

Her shoulders slumped and she lowered her head. She felt uncomfortable by his observation, as though she were inferior or incapable; lacking even in the basic instinct that made humanity what it was. Shannon had berated her, bullied her throughout their childhood for just this thing. Her heart sank and a sick feeling rose in her stomach. Did Duncan see her as the pathetic little creature Shannon had?

“I think I will see if there is anything useful in the kitchen,” she said, turning sharply away from him.

“Oh,” he said, surprised by her sudden change of mind. “Well, I’ll not be long here. I think what I am looking for is under this floorboard,” he said, giving a firm but soft stamp of his foot to indicate the spot.

Eilidh didn’t seem to hear him and with a hurried rustle of her skirts she turned and fled from the room.

He watched her go, scratching his head and wondering what had caused her to leave so suddenly, but then his eye traveled to the floor and the board he had to lift. He wasn’t even certain that he would find what he was looking for, but as he crouched on the floor and levered the board loose he discovered the old pouch was still where his Pa had left it.

Carefully replacing the board he made his way back through the hall and up the wide staircase to what had been his room. He paused outside the room, wanting to open the door yet afraid to do so. He reached out his hand and turned the handle, a small push and the door swung gently open. His guess had been correct. The room remained untouched. A round-topped chest was tucked neatly underneath the small window that looked out over the front garden, a square table with a single unlit candle stood to the right of the bed.

Stiffening his resolve he moved slowly through the room, his eyes drawn to the window, he rested his forehead on the cool glass and let his eyes wander out. They saw nothing, for the night sky was pitch black, but in his mind he saw it all.

He had his back to her, and for a moment she wondered if he had fallen asleep, standing there with his head resting heavily on the pane of glass.

“Duncan?” she said, gently sliding her arm around his waist.

He lifted his head and turned to her, his face tired and drawn.

“It’s too late to travel now. We will stay for the night.”

Eilidh nodded. “We can finish packing the cart in the morning. There’s no one here, this is as safe as any place to rest for the night.”

“Where do you suppose everyone is?”

“I don’t know, Duncan, I really don’t know.”

He forced a smile and turned back to face the window. “I’ll sleep in here,” he said, turning briefly to nod at his old bed. “You can have Ma and Pa’s room.”

“Aye, that would be best,” she said, turning to leave the room.

“Eilidh?” he said.

She stopped and turned to face his back.

“Thank you,” he said simply.

She wanted to ask what for but just at the moment she wasn’t sure he would be able to tell her.

“Good night, Duncan,” she said, leaving the room and crossing the hall. Amber bounced up the stairs to join her in the master bedroom, and very soon she and the dog settled to sleep under the thick covers on the bed.

The early morning mist burnt off quickly to leave a hot, clear summer’s day. Duncan pulled a clean pair of trousers and a cream cotton shirt from the chest. As he pulled the shirt over his head he caught the smell of his mother. He froze, for a moment confused. His head snapped toward the door, expecting to see her smiling face in its frame, but there was no one there. He lifted the woolen trousers to his face and breathed deeply. Stooping, he lifted the round top of the chest to look inside. A pile of neatly-folded shirts and trousers lay where his mother’s hands had left them; her loving, gentle hands that had cleaned and cared for him his entire life. He raised his foot and in one smooth action kicked the lid of the chest closed. He was here to do a job, he understood that, but what he wished most desperately was to know if his parents were safe. To have some word, some sign that they had made it to the village, because without it he wasn’t at all sure he could go on. Lifting the chest from his bedroom floor he carried it down the stairs into the kitchen.

Eilidh was dressed and packed. She had loaded the cart, hitched and saddled the horses, and both her and Amber were by all accounts ready to leave. Duncan, on the other hand, couldn’t decide if he was eager to get away from the place or terrified of leaving it. The farm, this house, was the one last link to his family, the one final thread that he wanted so desperately to preserve. Yet the memories hurt, and when they surfaced it felt for all the world as though someone had placed their hand around his heart and squeezed so hard that the pain rendered him breathless. Moving the chest into the cart he went to stand beside Eilidh and Amber.

“Are you ready?” he asked, turning to face the house, his arms folded across his chest.

“Aye, are you?”

He didn’t answer, he stood in silence staring at the house and then, without warning, he strode purposefully toward the front door, opened it, and walked inside. Moments later he returned to the door, and this time stood for a while in its frame, looking out at Eilidh, his eyes clouded and lost in thought. With a deep breath and a clear resolve he finally moved through the frame, reached behind him for the handle, and pulled the door closed one last time.

“Let’s go,” he said, climbing onto the bench beside Eilidh and Amber.

His hands took the reins and with a gentle flick they rolled slowly forwards, down the hillside towards the winding path they knew so well.

“Are you alright?” Eilidh asked, turning to catch a last glimpse of the main house as they rounded the first bend.

“I am cursed,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the dusty road ahead.

“What do you mean?” she asked, genuinely curious.

“Memories, Eilidh, bloody memories. I have them etched into my damn mind.”

“They will fade with time,” she said, laying her hand gently on his arm.

“But that’s just the point. To live with them is an existence worse than hell, but without them my existence is meaningless.”

“You will learn to live with them,” she said simply, resting her hand on Amber’s back and turning her attention to the windy path ahead.

They drove on in silence until they reached the outer boundaries of the town where Duncan drew the horse to a stop on the side of the path.

Amber sprang immediately to life. “Sit,” Eilidh said, grabbing a firm hold of her collar. “What’s wrong?” she asked turning to Duncan as he jumped down from the cart.

“I am worried we might be recognized in the town.”

“Is there any other way we can get to Berwick?” she asked.

“No, not without going back on ourselves. I should have thought about this before we left the farm,” he said, pulling three woolen blankets from the heavily laden cart. “Put one over Amber and wrap the other one around yourself. Try and cover your head with it,” he said, dropping two of the blankets on the bench beside Eilidh.

“Won’t we look a little bit suspicious?”

“Aye, we might well, especially since it is so warm, but I’d rather look suspicious and have folk wonder who we are than destroy all doubt by parading our identity.”

“I think we might be taking too big a risk.”

He shook his head and pulled himself back onto the cart. “We don’t have much choice, Eilidh. I’m not taking us back to the farm.”

They drew the blankets up over their heads. Duncan tightened his hold on the reins and with a quick flick, guided the horse slowly down the hill. He stiffened as tidy thatched roofs came into focus. Eilidh lowered her head and cast her eyes to the ground. The noise and bustle of the busy town grew closer, the smell of peat fires, stoked for the cooking pots, filled their noses. These were the sounds and smells of home, the familiar, friendly notes that should have welcomed them; instead they stole through the streets like villains with their heads covered and their identities cloaked. When at last they were clear of the familiar paths and the blankets had dropped from their heads they both wept silently for the life they had long since lost.

They stopped eventually at a small inn outside Chirnside to rest and water the horses and Amber. Eilidh’s stomach rumbled with the smell of hot food that wafted from the building and she longed to follow her nose and dive into a warming bowl of beef stew.