The Sign of the Black Dagger (12 page)

The apartment was small but cosy and furnished with a sofa – which could be used as a bed, I saw – a table, and two upright wooden chairs. A couple of bright Oriental rugs lay on
the floor. Apart from that, there was only a cupboard and a kitchen which held but a small range and some utensils.

“I like it,” said Louisa.

And so did I.

“There is one condition attached,” said our father. “It is to be written into the deeds that the owner will not tell his children about this place until he judges that they are of an age to be entrusted with the secret.”

“We are of that age now,” I said.

“You are,” agreed our father. “And so the secret is now in your care. Shall we go home and see your mother?”

Will and Lucy closed the book and looked at each other.

“Do you think…?” said Lucy.

“That Dad might be there?” said Will. “Let’s go and find out!”

They left a note for their mother, saying merely that they had gone out, then they seized their anoraks and ran from the house. They did not stop running until they reached the lower Canongate. There they paused to catch their breath and to wonder in what state they would find their father,
if
they did find him.

“He might not want to see us,” warned Will.

“He’s going to have to,” said Lucy fiercely.

“Let’s go then!”

They turned into White Horse Close. There was no tavern here now, only apartments. The inn had gone long ago. The close opened out into a wide courtyard and in daytime had more light than most. It was one of the prettiest in the Old Town, with its baskets and window boxes of flowers, not blooming at this time of year, of course, but in summer making a fine show. It was night-time now. Some of the windows were dark; others showed light at the edges of their curtains.

Somewhere here was the apartment given in 1796 to Ranald Cunningham by the mysterious nobleman known only as Lamont. There were several doors. Which one was it? They went round reading the names on the plates, but beside a few
of the bells there were none at all. Some people obviously did not like to advertise themselves.

“We could try ringing them,” suggested Lucy.

“It’s a bit late to do that.”

“Not too late. It’s not quite ten yet. Most people would be up.”

“Trouble is, even if we did manage to ring Dad’s, he might not answer.”

“Let’s try a couple anyway.”

Lucy pressed one and got no response. She tried another and this time a woman’s voice came booming out of the grille to demand, “Yes? What do you want?”

“We’re looking for a Mr Ranald Cunningham.”

“Never heard of him.”

“Probably nobody has,” said Will, “not if he’s using the place as a secret hideaway.”

They wandered around looking at the windows, which revealed nothing.

“We can’t give up now,” said Lucy. “Even if we have to camp down here till he comes out.”

“I can’t see us being allowed to do that!”

A man and woman were entering the close.

“Let’s ask them.” Lucy went forward to meet them and Will followed.

The couple looked at them slightly askance.

“We’re looking for a Mr Ranald Cunningham,” said Lucy.

“Don’t know anyone of that name,” replied the woman. “Do you, Donald?”

He shook his head.

“Does he live here?” asked the woman.

“Well, yes, some of the time.”

“He’s six feet tall,” put in Will “and he’s got dark hair with
just a little bit of grey at the sides.”

The woman frowned. “Sounds a bit like our mystery man, doesn’t it, Donald?”

“Mystery man?” echoed Lucy.

“Yes, he has the next flat to ours. He seems to come and go, always on his own. He’s been around more recently. Never has much to say for himself.”

“It might be him,” said Will.

“Could you let us in the outside door?” asked Lucy “Just so that we could find out.”

“You can ring the bell,” said the man. “It’s that one on the right.”

Lucy rang but no one answered.

“He was in earlier. I’m sure I heard him.”

“Perhaps if we were to knock on his inside door?” said Lucy.

“You can come in with us and try if you think it will do any good.”

The couple unlocked the door and went ahead of them up the stairs to the first floor. “That’s his flat there,” said the woman, indicating it.

The couple waited in the doorway of their own apartment, which made it difficult for them. Lucy and Will realised that they probably wanted to make sure that they were not up to anything. The trouble was that if you were a teenager people thought you must be!

There was no name on the door they were facing, and no bell. After a moment’s hesitation, Will raised his fist and knocked. It was very quiet. There didn’t appear to be any movement on the other side of the door.

Will knocked again and Lucy, forgetting about the onlookers, cried out, “Dad, it’s us! Will and Lucy. Please open the door.
Please!
We want to see you.”

They waited, scarcely daring to breathe. Lucy had her fingers crossed tightly. Then they heard a chain being unhooked, and the door opened. And there stood their father!

“Dad!” they cried, launching themselves at him.

He hugged them fiercely and when at length they separated they saw that he had tears in his eyes.

“Come in.” He opened the door wide. They went in and he closed it behind them.

The living room was as William and Louisa had described it, except that the sofa could not have survived for over two hundred years. At some time somebody had replaced it but the table looked old and scored, as did the two upright wooden chairs. They could imagine William and Louisa sitting there. A wood fire burned in the grate, making the place warm and cosy.

“How did you manage to find me?” asked their father, sounding incredulous that they had.

They told him about finding the journal.

“That was clever of you.” He said he’d been planning for some time to tell them about it, and this place, very soon. His father had brought him here when he was their age.

“The family’s secret hideaway!” said Lucy.

“My father told me it had to be a secret and that I, in turn, should let my heir into it when he or she – or both of you! – reached your teens.”

“So that’s why Mum doesn’t know about it,” said Will.

“Yes, I’ve always felt a bit awkward about that.”

“Perhaps we’ll have to tell her now?”

“I think we shall.” Their dad then started to say how terribly sorry and ashamed he was to have put them through such an ordeal. “I’ll never forgive myself.”

“You have to!” Lucy hated to hear him sound so sad.

He shook his head. “I just seemed to freak out. Everything was in such a horrible stupid mess and was going from bad to worse.”

What was amazing them was how
normal
he seemed. They couldn’t believe it. He was the dad they’d always known and they’d expected to find him in a heap.

Paper and pen lay on the table. It looked as if he had been making notes.

“Sit down,” he said.

They took the sofa and he sat on one of the upright chairs.

“How’s your mum?” he asked first of all.

“OK,” said Will.

“Coping,” added Lucy.

Their father nodded. “I’m sure she is.” He smiled. “I’ve been trying to. I guess you realise I had a kind of breakdown? That’s how it felt, like I was breaking down. Into tiny little pieces. So I came to hide. Not very noble, is it?”

“It doesn’t
matter
, Dad,” insisted Lucy.

“It does actually, Lucy. Because it affected the two of you and your mum. The first few days I was here I was in a kind of pit of black despair. Then I went and talked to the doctor and he referred me to a counsellor. That was what I needed. Somebody to talk things through with. Before that I’d felt I was peering into a tunnel blocked off at the end.”

A piece of wood tumbled out of the fire on to the grate and he got up to put it back.

“The result is I’ve been able to take some decisions. I think I’ve found a way forward, to make a new start.”

“That’s great,” said Will.

“But what about the money you owe?” asked Lucy. “Will you be able to pay that?” Without their house being sold, she
was thinking, but did not voice.

“I’m going to have to sell this flat, I’m afraid. I hate the idea, but I’ve got to.”

“Oh, Dad!” cried Lucy. To think that they had just found this lovely little hideaway which had been Louisa and William’s before them and were going to lose it before they’d had a chance to use it!

“I know. I feel dreadful about it. Especially since my father – and grandfather – made me solemnly promise to never ever sell it. And when I promised I truly thought I never would.” Their father’s voice cracked and he put his back to them and stared out of the window. A few flakes of snow had begun to fall. “I shall be betraying their trust. They explained to me how it had been handed down through the family for generations. To think that
I
should be the one to break the chain!”

“You can’t help it!” cried Lucy, wanting to get up and comfort him, yet sensing he needed to be left alone for the moment.

“I should have been able to.” He turned to face them again. “I was a fool, an absolute fool. I ran up all those debts. If my father knew—”

“But he doesn’t,” said Lucy. Their grandfather had died before they were born.

“We don’t mind that you can’t pass it on to us,” said Will, though he did feel a pang as he said it. “Are you able to sell it?”

“I’ve been into it with the solicitor. There’s a clause in the will which states that if a member of the family should find himself in dire need – especially in debt – he may do so. I’ve thought and thought and I just can’t see any other way out.”

“It’s OK, Dad.” Lucy was worried that he might slump into another breakdown. “Like Will says, we don’t mind, really we don’t.”

“It is only an old flat,” said Will.

“There are a few days left before your case comes up in court,” said Lucy.

“Do you think you could manage to sell it before then?” asked Will.

“The solicitor already has a buyer ready to sign on the dotted line and with the money in cash. He could have sold it ten times over apparently.” Their father looked round. “It is a little gem,” he said sadly. “I’m so sorry, children, that I won’t be able to pass on your inheritance.”

“We still have our house,” Lucy pointed out. “It’s not as if we’re homeless,” she added, thinking of poor old Peg.

Will’s mobile rang. “It’s Mum,” he said, looking at the number on the display.

“Tell her we’re coming home,” said their father.

When they reached the house they let him go ahead and spend a few minutes alone with their mother. When they did go in they saw that she had been crying. They did not feel far from it themselves. Lucy had been sniffling all the way up the hill.

“We should have a special meal to celebrate, Mum,” she said.

“We were just going to have fish fingers!” said their mother ruefully. “I didn’t have time to shop today.”

“Why don’t we have a carry-out?” suggested their father.

“I suppose we could.” Their mother was hesitating a little, thinking, they knew, of the money. “OK, why not?” She fetched her purse.

Will and Lucy went out to buy it. They were told they could choose. Lucy wanted Chinese, Will Indian. In the end they opted for Thai, which was kind of in between. While they were waiting for the order to be made up they talked about the
family’s little hideaway.

“It’s a shame it has to be sold,” sighed Lucy. “It’d have been a great place to hang out in.”

“Better to have Dad home, though.”

There was no question about that and it was wonderful that he was going to be able to clear his debts. But what about afterwards? Even if there was some money left over from the sale of the flat it wouldn’t last all that long. He would have to get a job, wouldn’t he? Their mum didn’t get paid a huge amount at the library.

When they brought the carry-out home they found their parents sitting together on the settee drinking a glass of red wine. Their dad had his arm round their mum’s shoulder. He looked as if he had never been away.

“Your dad’s got another piece of news for you,” said their mother. “There’ll be a little money left over from the sale of the flat.”

Will and Lucy looked at each other. Surely he wasn’t going to start up another of his business enterprises! It might be the end of Gran if he did.

“He’s going to use it to do a teacher-training course.”

Their dad would make a great teacher, they knew that. He already had a degree in history and from the time they were very young he had told them stories about the past and brought the people and places to life.

“That’s a great idea,” said Will.

“Fantastic,” said Lucy.

Louisa and William

Since we have Papa home again this will be the last entry in our journal so we are writing it together.

There was great rejoicing in our house when we brought Papa in. We had to fetch Maman’s smelling salts, of course, but she recovered quickly. Bessie picked up her skirts and did a little jig in the middle of the kitchen floor. The two of them were even more delighted when they heard that Papa’s debts had been cleared
and
he had some money in hand as well.

“No more running down the street on the stroke of Sunday midnight,” he said, his face beaming.

“You must run to the flesher’s, Bessie,” cried our mother. “
Vite
, vite!
Buy a guineafowl and a leg of mutton and a dozen fresh eggs. Tonight we feast!”

We looked at each other, the same thought spinning through our heads. How long would the money last? And what would we do when it ran out? Papa could not be allowed to get into debt again.

As if he could read our minds, he said, “Don’t worry, children, I have a plan. A way to earn a living. Perhaps not a big one, but a living nevertheless.”

He had had plans before but none of them had ever worked out.

“You are not going to write another book, I hope?” said our
mother. “I mean to say, I do not mind you write the book, but the last one still lies in the drawer unseen by the world.”

“I have hopes that it may be seen some day, but no, it was not of that I was thinking. While I was lodging in the palace an old friend came to visit me. Do you remember James Christie? He lives up in Buccleuch Place.”

“You seemed to have much social life in the abbey.”

“Let Papa tell us, Maman,” we begged.

“We studied together at the university, James and I. He teaches in the High School. He came to tell me that there was a vacancy for the teaching of language and literature and he had recommended me for the position. I have applied and been accepted.”

“Bravo!” we cried.

“A schoolmaster will not earn much,” lamented our mother. “We will never move to the New Town now.”

“
Maman
!
” we cried.

“I am pleased, of course,” she went on hurriedly. “I am glad you will have employment, Ranald. It is
merveilleux
! But I wish for your sake that it could be something better. You deserve more.”

“It could not be better,” he declared. “I shall enjoy teaching the boys.”

Papa is a good teacher. We can vouch for that. He makes everything he talks about interesting.

“And you, William,” he said, “will come with me to the school as a pupil. I am sorry, Louisa, that you will not be able to but, as you know, it is a school for boys only. I think we might send you to Miss Smith’s Academy for young ladies.”

We are sad to think that we shall be parted for our education since we never have been before. We have learned everything we know together and are used to having each
other’s company from morning till night. One consolation is that Charlotte is to be enrolled at Miss Smith’s Academy also. She had told us so the previous week.

We went out to help Bessie with the errands as there would be too much for her to carry. Papa gave her a purseful of money before we left. She was happy that she could settle all our outstanding bills around the town, and so were we. We could look the shopkeepers in the eye again. We met up with Peg and were able to give her a bannock and cheese and a salt herring that we purchased from a Newhaven fishwife.

Afterwards we called on Charlotte and told her our news, though not the part about the apartment, our secret hideaway. For that has to remain a family secret. She was pleased to know that she had been of help by telling us about Monsieur Goriot going to play whist with the count and Madame de Polastron. It was the bit of the jigsaw that had helped complete the picture.

We had our feast this evening and Bessie sat at table with us, supping wine and becoming a little tiddly.

Papa proposed a toast. “To a new beginning,” he said, raising his glass.

We are pleased that we can conclude the story of our father as an ‘abbey laird’, though sad to lay the journal aside. It has come to seem like a friend during our time of trouble. We have decided to place it in the wall cavity in the sitting room in the hope that, sometime in the future, one of our descendants – or perhaps two, for twins do run in our family – may discover it and find our tale of interest.