Entwined (9 page)

Once in the courtyard Simon tried the door to the pub but it was locked. I groaned and gripped my husband’s arm for support.

“Harry, open up, mate,” Simon shouted, banging furiously on the door.

“On my way,” he called, tapping on the window to the right of the door before moving swiftly to let us in.

Inside, the inn was warm and dry - a comfortable and welcome contrast to the bitter cold that we had just walked through.

“Strooth fella, you lot look frozen to the bone.”

“Aye Harry, that we are. What are you doing with the doors locked? It’s not like you to shut up shop.”

“Long story, fella, long story. What you drinking?” Harry asked.

I caught the warning look that Simon flashed at Harry.

“Don’t suppose I could bother you for a coffee, could I, Harry?” I asked, pretending not to have noticed the slip.

“I can do better than that. There’s some freshly made soup in the kitchen. Should be a couple of loaves of bread in there somewhere too. Why don’t you take young Rose and sort us all out a nice warm bowl each?”

“Aye Corran, give Duncan and I a few minutes with Harry, would you? We’ve… um, we’ve got a bit of business to discuss.”

“Simon?”

“Aye, lass.”

“I don’t mind if you and Duncan have a drink,” I said, following Rose into the kitchen.

“So what will it be then, fella?” I heard Harry ask as we made our way into the kitchen.

“That was nice, Corran,” Rose said, as I lit the hob.

“It’s ten days before Christmas and snowing a blizzard. I think the man deserves a drink,” I said, staring at the pot of soup.

“Corran, do you think Harry’s OK?”

“I’m sure he’s fine, Rose. I’ll admit he looked a little distracted but we might have got him out of bed.”

“He was in there,” she said, pointing to the small room which lay to the right of the front door.

“Yes, he was,” I agreed. “Well perhaps he just wanted a rest.”

Rose shook her head thoughtfully.

“Thing is, Corran, it’s not like him to close up. I don’t know… I mean… I don’t know what’s up, but I’ve got a feeling something’s very wrong.”

“Rose don’t over analyze. It’s Christmas. The man is probably just tired. With the heavy snow I’ll be surprised if many will be wandering the streets looking for a pint,” I paused, lifting the pot of hot soup off the hob. “Don’t suppose you know where to find some bowls?”

Rose nodded and made her way to a cupboard. “Mum used to cook for Harry. Actually I think they might have had a thing going. Mum never said anything, and I didn’t ask but…”

“I didn’t know your Mum was a chef.”

“Well I don’t think she was a chef exactly, but she cooked a lot and she liked it. I’m shocking at cooking and so was Gran.”

“We all have different skills and things that we are good at. Would be an odd sort of world if we were all good at the same things.”

“This is all a bit too much,” she said, resting her hands on the top and leaning heavily on the counter.

“I know it is, Rose.”

“I feel so confused, you know, with everything that’s happened over the last few months. Last summer I was engaged, I had a job, and I thought I was finally starting to move on from losing Mum and Gran. Then everything went tits up with Angus, you guys turned up, and now nothing makes sense.”

“I think there are times in life when we just have to trust and accept the things we don’t understand. Do the best with what you have and wherever you can find happiness.”

We both glanced up to see Duncan standing in the doorway. He wore a thoughtful expression, his brow furrowed by a deep frown.

“What’s up, love?” I asked.

“I’m going to look for Eilidh.”

“Have you told your father?”

Duncan nodded, “Aye, Ma, I have.”

“What did he say?”

“He wasn’t too pleased at the idea.”

“But you’re going anyway?”

“Aye, Ma. I am.”

I was proud of my son for the strength of his conviction, I was even prouder that he had the courage to stand firm against his father, but I was afraid to let him leave the pub alone. With this thought in mind, I moved past Duncan and into the taproom, where I found Harry and Simon engaged in a game of chess. Simon raised his eyes as I entered the room but didn’t speak.

“You know Duncan is planning on going to look for Eilidh?” I asked.

Simon nodded slowly, without taking his eyes from the board.

“Will you go with him?”

“No.”

“Why?” I said, with sharp tone of accusation to my voice.

“I have told the lad that he risks too much. If Eilidh had wanted to stay with us, she would never have left the shop.”

“He loves her, Simon.”

“And I love you and our unborn child. I will not risk either.”

“Fine,” I said, turning on my heels and stropping back to the kitchen.

Duncan stood beside Rose, a mug of coffee warming his hands.

“You will be careful, won’t you?” I said, turning a worried face to my son.

“Don’t worry, Ma. I’ll be fine. I’m not planning to do anything stupid. I just want to see if I can find her.”

“Have you got your mobile?” Rose asked.

Duncan nodded.

“Stay in touch,” Rose replied.

With that he was gone.

For the next few hours, my mind returned time and time again to the decision I had made to leave Eilidh in the village. Would things have been different if I had had the courage to leave my son with her? I tortured myself with the possibilities of what might have been. The snow continued to fall throughout the day and into the evening and still our son hadn’t returned. A flash of light, a loud crack and sudden darkness brought silence to the chatter in the taproom. Only the glow from the flames of the fire remained.

“The bloody power’s gone,” Harry muttered irritably.

Above us, a snowstorm raged and another bolt of lightning flashed through the sky followed seconds later by a crash of thunder.

An icy chill ran over me as a cold blast of air blew in from the front door. I jumped to my feet and ran to embrace my son, who stood alone in front of the open door, his head bent and his shoulders slouched.

“You’re soaked,” I cried, feeling the frozen material of his jacket. “Harry, do you have some clothes that Duncan can borrow?”

“Upstairs,” he replied, with an inebriated slur.

“I think he’s had too much of the golden nectar to be much use to us,” Simon said, coming to stand beside us.

Rose appeared, shining the light of her phone over Duncan.

“We need some candles,” Simon said, helping his son out of his coat.

“Harry, we need some candles,” I cried.

“Also upstairs,” he replied, “but I don’t think I can manage the stairs in the dark.”

“I’ll get them,” Rose paused and turned to the taproom. “Can I bring Duncan a pair of your trackie bottoms and a sweatshirt?”

“Be my guest,” Harry replied.

“Wait, Rose,” I cried. “We might as well all go up together.”

“Aye, and I’ll get Harry up to bed,” Simon said, with a hint of amusement.

“It’s not funny,” I spat. “The man drinks too much. He’s going to kill himself just now.”

Simon frowned, a harsh, scolding frown. “Leave him alone, lass. It is his only comfort.”

Suppressing a yawn, I ignored my husband and followed my son and Rose upstairs. At the top of the landing I stopped and turned to Duncan.

“Harry said we could we use these rooms,” I said, pointing to the relevant doors.

“Shall I take this one?” he asked, moving to the closed door.

“Looks as good as any to me. Can you spare me a minute?” I asked.

“Sure, Ma. What’s up?”

I followed him into the room and settled myself on the edge of the bed.

“What happened out there?” I asked gently.

“I couldn’t find her. Not a trace. No one has seen or heard of her,” he said sadly. “Are you sure it was Eilidh that came into the shop, Ma?

“Yes, Duncan. I am absolutely one hundred percent certain that Eilidh came to our shop today.”

I left my son to his thoughts and made my way slowly toward one of the rooms that Harry had offered us. I couldn’t shake Eilidh from my mind, alone in this new world, vulnerable and exposed in the storm that raged above the city. As my head touched the pillow, I prayed that she had found shelter and a warm bed for the night.

******

CHAPTER 8

York - 16th December, Modern Day

Kate slid her thumb over the track-pad, watching as the blue strip highlighted her friends’ names one after the other. She lifted her thumb off the pad as the strip hovered over Grace’s name. For the past few hours she had been repeatedly dialing the number, but each time the call had gone straight to Grace’s answer phone.

Dropping the mobile on the duvet, she slid off the bed and reached for her leggings and jumper. The iPod docking station on the bedside table told her it was three o’clock in the morning - four hours since Grace had left. It was too late to call the hotel she was staying at, and she couldn’t call the police until she was sure Grace was missing.

Kate shivered as the wind howled past her house. She pulled the curtain aside and stared into the orange glow of the street light, mesmerized by frantic flakes of snow as they whipped around its outer glass cover. Her fears were totally justified. Grace had promised to call her when she got back to the hotel and she hadn’t. Cursing herself for not insisting that her friend catch a taxi home, Kate grabbed her beanie and gloves and made her way downstairs.

She struggled to stand as the wind pounded her unmercifully. She ducked her head against the icy blast, gasping a quick breath before facing the oncoming wind again. Deep banks of snow rose up the side of buildings narrowing her passage to an almost impassable gap between the drifts. Blindly she stumbled through the city hoping with every trudging step that her friend was tucked up in bed, dreaming of her haunting Cavalier. Exhausted, Kate sought shelter in the recess of a doorway. Her leggings clung to her calves like frozen limpets and her legs burnt painfully now that she had stopped moving. Lifting her fingers to her mouth, she caught the woolen tip in her teeth and pulled the sodden glove from her hand. She watched the sign of the Cavalier Hotel swaying in the wind. She raised her head to the window of her friend’s, room. Her look fixed intently on the panes of glass, but the glazed section of the window offered her no reassuring sight. Her eyes streamed with tears as the lashing wind stung her face. A wave of impending doom washed over her as she left the shelter of the doorway and plunged once again into the open street. A curtain of snow fell steadily before her in a never-ending stream of white. Kate lost her footing and stumbled, steadying herself against the base of a streetlight. Her breathing was shallow and painful, her mind clouded and confused. Her legs felt unsteady and weak as tiredness crept into every muscle and bone of her body. She closed her eyes against the pounding wind and rested her head heavily against the icy pole. Through the whirl of confusion, Kate understood that she had to find shelter. Willing her body and mind from its stupor, she took one deep, burning breath and dragged herself from the pole. She swayed unsteadily on her feet but remained upright enough to stagger her way down Stonegate. With reason and direction long since lost, instinct drove her to Harry’s pub where, finally, overcome with exhaustion, she collapsed heavily in the deserted courtyard.

Unable to sleep and painfully aware of the conversation that daybreak would bring, Harry slid out of bed and walked slowly to the window. His fingers drew the curtains aside and then tensed on the cloth. He blinked in an attempt to focus his eyes, certain that he had caught a glimpse of something moving in the shadows of the courtyard. Cursing, he let the curtain fall and reached for his coat.

“Simon…”

I was woken with a start by the sound of Harry’s frantic shouts and banging on the bedroom door.

“Simon, I need your help, fella. Someone’s fallen in the courtyard.”

Simon was already perched on the end of the bed, fully dressed and pulling on his boots.

“What’s going on?” I asked, pushing myself up clumsily.

“Don’t know lass, just stay here and let Harry and me sort it,” Simon barked, treading a hasty path to the bedroom door.

I swung off the bed and bent awkwardly to retrieve my leggings and jumper. A few moments later I followed my husband out of the door. Rose emerged onto the landing, a candle in hand.

“What’s happened?” she asked sleepily, extinguishing the candle’s flame as she realized the power had returned.

“Harry thinks there is someone outside,” I said, moving to stand beside my friend. Duncan was at the bottom of the stairs with Harry.

“Excuse me,” Simon said, sliding impatiently past me and Rose to join them.

Rose and I hurried down the stairs and stood at the door, watching helplessly as the three men trudged through the knee high snow towards the dark outline of a figure.

Simon lifted the body and turned towards the door.

“Get some blankets,” he shouted.

“I’ll go,” Rose cried, sprinting back up the stairs.

As soon as Simon got to the door I recognized the girl.

“Hurry, Rose, it’s Kate,” I shouted, as Simon carried the girl through the main entrance.

He lowered her gently onto a rug in front of the fire and immediately moved to stoke the dying embers.

I knelt beside the girl. “Can you hear me, Kate?”

She nodded weakly, opening her mouth to speak.

“Don’t,” I said, lifting my finger to her lips.

Rose was beside me, blankets in hand.

“We need to get her dry and out of these clothes. Harry, have you got a hair dryer?” Rose asked.

“I do, Jess… I mean, it’s upstairs in my room,” Harry replied hastily.

“I’ll get it,” said Duncan, already making his way towards the stairs.

“Thanks, love. We need some dry clothes too. I don’t suppose you have a dressing gown or something similar that we could use?” I asked, turning to Harry again.

“Harry,” Kate whispered through chattering teeth.

“Shh Kate, he’s here, sweet. We need to get you into some dry clothes,” I said, turning to Harry with a pleading look.

There was a silent pause before he stepped forward and acknowledged my question.

“I’ve got some things that might do her… I’ll get them.”

“There you go, Kate. Harry’s got some dry clothes for you,” I said, trying unsuccessfully to help the girl to her feet. Duncan ushered me out of the way and lifted the girl effortlessly off the rug.

Rose and I followed him to a small room where he sat Kate gently on a stool, and then turned to stoke the fire before leaving.

It was warmer in the room than it had been in the main bar area and with the freshly-stoked fire and the blanket wrapped around her, Kate soon started to warm up.

“What were you doing out there, you daft mare?” Rose asked when, at last, her friend had stopped shaking.

“I need to speak to Harry. It’s about Grace. Do you remember the lady who’s been working for me?”

Rose and I nodded. We had met her a few nights before, here at the inn. She hadn’t been particularly sociable and had disappeared very soon after arriving, but I remembered her because she had looked terribly sad and confused.

“Grace left my place earlier to walk back to her hotel. She said she’d text me as soon as she was back. When I got no text I went looking for her.”

“I’m sure Grace is tucked up in her bed and just forgot to call you, Kate. You really shouldn’t have gone out looking for her on your own.”

“Kate, did she leave your place before or after the power cut?” Rose asked.

“It was before,” Kate said with absolute confidence.

“Could she have had enough time to get back to her hotel, before the power went?” I asked.

A knock at the door interrupted our conversation.

“It’s Harry, can I come in?”

“Come in, Harry,” Rose said.

“What were you doing out there?” he said, gently, putting the bundle of clothes on a table.

“Harry, I… need to speak… to you,” she said, through chattering teeth.

“Yeah, and so do I,” said Rose, holding up a knitted tunic from the pile of clothes Harry had just laid on the table.

“What’s wrong, Rose?” I asked, watching the deeply suspicious frown developing on her face.

“This,” she said, waving the tunic aggressively. “It’s my Mum’s.”

“Are you sure?

“Yeah, of course I’m bloody sure. I mean, look, it’s got a cigarette burn on the sleeve.”

I turned to look at Harry. He was visibly shaken, his face pale and his eyes shifting uneasily between the three of us.

“You’re right, Rose. We do need to talk… all of us,” he said, nervously turning to leave the room. “When Kate is dry come back through to the taproom.”

We joined the three men in the taproom. Rose helped ease Kate into a chair and settled next to her friend on the rug in front of the fire. I lowered myself wearily into a wooden backed chair beside Simon. The fire had taken the chill off the room but the atmosphere was uncomfortable and tense. Duncan emerged from the kitchen with three mugs in hand.

“Darling, you are an absolute star. Thank you,” I said, as my son handed me one of the hot mugs of tea.

“My pleasure, Ma,” he said, passing the other two mugs to Rose and Kate.

An impatient sound from Harry’s throat prompted Duncan to hurriedly deposit his rear end on a bar stool. “For many years,” Harry began, and then stopped. He was clutching something in his right hand. Lowering his head slowly, he stared at the object for a few seconds before beginning again. “Sorry,” he said, taking a deep breath as if steeling himself for the task. “Twenty years ago I was a young man… well, comparatively young at any rate. I had an eye for a pretty girl, and I wasn’t too bad a looker, if I do say so myself. I met a girl, here in the pub. She was new to the area and used to come in with her mother,” he sighed, casting a dreamy look towards the bar. “They were quiet folk but I was curious and made an effort to talk to the girl. One thing lead to another and eventually I asked her out. She was shy and didn’t accept at first, but her mother convinced her to give me a chance,” he paused to take a sip of his whisky, and I noticed that his left hand shook as he lifted the glass.

“She was so beautiful in every way. I fell in love with her, and…” he broke off and wiped a tear from his cheek.

Drawing a breath he continued. “She fell pregnant and we had a beautiful baby girl… but I could never be her father.”

“Why Harry, what happened?” Kate asked.

“Jessie was in danger. There were people who wanted to hurt her.”

“Why didn’t you just go to the police?” said Rose.

“Because it would have made no difference, Rose. The kind of danger Jessie was in wasn’t the sort the police could help her with.”

“How did this stop you being the child’s father?” Simon asked.

“Jessie wanted to be sure that the child would have a bolt-hole. Somewhere safe and completely unconnected to her, should she ever have the need.”

“So where is this woman now?” Rose asked.

“She’s gone, Rose, back to her people.”

“What happened to the kid?” Rose asked.

“She left you here, Rose,” Harry whispered.

******