Entwined (22 page)

Reaching for his mobile phone on the passenger seat of the van Duncan ran his finger over Eilidh’s name. His hands were shaking so much that the name blurred. He pressed the green button and drew the phone to his ear. It rang.

“Eilidh,” he cried, through a stuttering sob. “Where’s my Pa?”

“He’s here, Duncan. Why? What’s happened?” she asked.

“It’s Harry and Kate…” the words caught in his throat, he cried uncontrollably, unable to continue the call. He dropped the phone and noticed for the first time the blood on his hands, shirt and coat. Retching, he slid the key into the ignition. The van’s engine roared to life beneath him. His stomach twisted; anger and deep sadness dragged his mind into a tortured hell as he pulled up at Tesco. How was he going to break the news?

“Where the hell have you been, lad?!” Simon roared, as his son fell out of the white van. Duncan ignored his father and bowed his head against the window of the van. “My God, what happened?” Simon exclaimed, noticing the blood stains on his son’s shirt. “Where’s Kate and Harry?”

“You should know!” Duncan shouted. “You were there weren’t you?”

Swinging around to face his father he raised both his hands and pushed him aggressively away.

“What are you talking about, man? What’s happened?” Simon said, taking a step backwards.

“Simon, leave him,” cried Eilidh, running towards the two men.

“Try and calm down, lad. Tell us what happened…”

“Simon!” Eilidh screamed, “Go.”

He threw his arms in the air with a gesture of irritation and confusion before turning his back on Duncan and Eilidh.

“What happened, Duncan?” Eilidh said, suddenly lowering her tone and softening her voice.

Duncan erupted into tears, crumpling before her eyes and laying his head on her shoulder.

“They’re dead… Kate and Harry… they’ve been killed.”

Eilidh began to cry and then stopped, suddenly drawing herself away from Duncan and regaining her composure.

“How?” she asked.

“I think… I think it was Pa…” he sobbed.

“That’s not possible. Simon’s never left the lorry.”

“He was there… It looked like him.”

“We’ll get to the bottom of it, but your father’s not involved.”

“What’s happened? Where are Kate and Harry?” Rose asked, already tearing up.

“Rose, can I talk to you in private?”

Rose nodded obligingly and swiftly climbed from the lorry and walked to one side with Eilidh.

Simon, having calmed down, ventured over to Duncan and embraced him.

“I’m sorry, Pa…” Duncan sobbed. Simon patted him on the back as they hugged.

“It is fine, lad. Are you alright?”

“Yes… But he looked so much like you…”

All conversation was interrupted by Rose’s anguished cries from a distance. Everyone turned to see Eilidh holding Rose as she sobbed uncontrollably. Eilidh approached the group, her arm protectively supporting Rose.

“May I have everyone’s attention please?” Eilidh shouted, above the confused murmurings. Everyone turned to look at her, falling immediately silent. “I have some bad news…” she bowed her head, finding difficulty in what was to be said. “There’s been a dreadful accident… Kate and Harry are no longer with us.” She paused for a moment as everyone stood in somber silence, tears on so many faces. “We have lost two very loyal friends today… Their commitment to us means that we can never forget them. We must remember their sacrifice; but more importantly, we must understand - we must know!-” Eilidh shouted, with more passion than she had ever felt. “We must know that their sacrifice has made our journey more important than ever… We must carry on. We must succeed… Because we cannot let their deaths be in vain.” Looking to the crowd of faces she noticed most were silently sobbing. “They were friends to all of us… You are not alone in your pain,” Eilidh turned to Rose and squeezed her hand tighter. “We will get each other through this,” she paused again and took a deep breath.

“I never told him I loved him,” she whispered.

“You didn’t need to,” Eilidh said gently, “he knew.”

“Take me back?” Rose pleaded.

“We can’t do that.”

“I need to see them. Please?”

“The Dark Circle will kill you,” Eilidh said simply.

“I’ve lost everything. I don’t care if they do.”

“I care, and you will tomorrow. Now let’s go,” Eilidh said.

Rose’s stomach heaved and twisted. She gasped a rasping breath as her throat contracted. Graham was in front of her, holding her against him, whispering reassuring words of comfort, but she didn’t hear them, couldn’t hear them. Her heart pounded and her mind raced with the thought of what she had lost. Her best friend, the girl she had grown up with; the man she had loved and trusted - but had never had the chance to know as her father. It didn’t make any difference that she had never called him Daddy. She had sat on his knee as a three year old and he had sung to her as his daughter. He had taught her nursery rhymes, played little piggies with her toes, taken her to the park and bought her ice-cream. He was the man in the background, the man who was always there, the man she hadn’t known she loved – until now.

“I love you Daddy,” she breathed.

******

CHAPTER 22

Heading North from York on the A1 - 21st December, Modern Day

A tiny meow of a cry echoed from the old wooden drawer on the floor of the lorry. Rose wiped her cheeks and rubbed her bloodshot eyes before lifting the baby from the makeshift crib and rocking him gently in her arms.

“I think he needs feeding,” she said, in an automated tone.

“I’ve got the bottles and the formula cartons,” Grace said, reaching for the box of sterile bottles. “Jen, would you open one of those cartons for me, please?”

Her daughter nodded and reached for the trays of ready-made formula.

“Do I just rip the top?”

Grace nodded. “I’ll hold the bottle and you can pour. The warmer’s there in that bag beside you.”

“I’m on it,” Graham said, extracting the device from a heavy duty Morrisons bag.

“It’s good to go; its plugged in and the inverter is switched on,” Grace said, holding the bottle steady whilst her daughter poured the thick creamy liquid from the carton.

Graham flicked the switch and a red light appeared immediately on the front of the warmer before reaching across and taking the filled bottle off Grace.

“I think the light goes green when it’s ready,” Grace said, neatly folding the empty milk carton. “Anyone got an empty plastic bag we can use for rubbish?”

There was a rustle of activity whilst Rose fumbled with one hand in her bag. “Here, will this do?” she asked, holding up a small green nappy disposal bag.

“That’ll do fine. What were you doing with a nappy bag?” Grace asked.

“I keep used make-up wipes in them,” Rose replied, pulling the child closer to her.

“I think your bottle’s done,” Graham announced, leaning over Rose to reach the bottle.

Amber lifted her head and looked expectantly up at Graham.

“I know you can smell the milk, Amber, but it’s not for you,” he said, shaking the bottle gently and then tilting it to empty a few drops of milk onto the back of his hand. “That’s fine,” he said, handing the bottle to Rose.

As the smell of milk reached the baby it fought wildly for the teat, before catching it between its gums. He sucked so hard that within seconds of it entering his mouth he had inverted the rubber teat.

“Damn,” Rose said, trying to loosen the cap of the bottle with one hand in an attempt to loosen the teat.

“Give it here,” Graham said, taking the bottle from her.

“Thanks,” she said, watching as he grasped the bottle between his legs and snapped open the catch on his bag.

“Do you need some help?” Rose asked, with a flat tone to her voice.

He shook his head. “No, ta. I’m looking for some alcohol gel, which I’ve just found,” he said, extracting the small bottle from his bag.

“I guess we all should have done that before handling the bottle?” Grace suggested. “You know, the crazy thing is, I know Kate bought loads…” she broke off her words with a choke.

“It’ll be fine,” Graham said, covering his hands with the gel before pushing the teat through the ring and resealing the bottle.

“None of you handled the teat. Here,” he said, returning the bottle to the baby’s expectant mouth. “Take it off him when he’s had half and wind him. You’re doing great, kid,” he said to Rose, reaching out and touching her lightly on the arm.

“Thanks, but I’d rather his mother could do it.”

“How is she doing?” Grace asked.

“Not as well as I would have liked,” Graham replied. “Her blood pressure is low and her temperature is up. I’ve given her a shot of penicillin, so we’ll just have to wait and hope it works.”

The shrill tone of a mobile’s ring drew their eyes to Eilidh. She flipped the mobile and put it to her ear.

“How far out of York are we?” she asked.

A brief silence ensued before she spoke again. “Good,” she said, scribbling something on a slip of paper beside her.

“What’s wrong?” Grace asked.

“Nothing,” Eilidh replied, reaching inside her bag and pulling a plastic bottle of water from it.

Eilidh let out a long breath before scooping up the array of loose papers around her and pushing them into her back pack.

“What is going on?” Graham asked.

“I’ll tell you all everything you need to know now,” she said, “but first I’m going to give Amber a drink.”

Her hand shot into the back pack again, emerging with a small plastic bowl. She opened the bottle and filled the bowl before gently tapping her thigh. “Amber.”

The dog’s head lifted and turned immediately towards Eilidh. “Come on, Pudding,” she said, watching the dog stretch lazily and amble across the lorry.

Jenny chuckled softly and it broke some of the tension in the lorry, “She’s not in much of a hurry, is she?”

“She’s a comfortable creature,” Eilidh said, patting the dog’s back.

“You had something to tell us?” Graham said, prompting Eilidh.

“Aye, I do,” she said, taking a deep breath and straightening her shoulders. “Well,” she began lowering her eyes to watch Amber’s tongue lapping at the water. “I suppose I should start with you, Graham,” she paused, and lifted her head to look at him. “Your father left our village…”

“My father?” Graham echoed, jerking his head up in surprise. “What did my father have to do with you people?”

“Be patient with me, Graham, please. I will tell you everything, if you will just hear me out,” Eilidh replied softly. “Everyone left with a different purpose and a specific job.” Graham opened his mouth to speak but then stopped himself as he remembered Eilidh’s request. “Graham and Rose, you grew up knowing nothing of your true identities, or your life in Scotland. You lived, like every other family, a seemingly normal existence in York.”

“This is all frightfully entertaining and I know Scotland is a lovely country but why the cloak and dagger? There’s nothing mysterious about growing up in Scotland, it’s a country, just like any other and just for the record. I didn’t grow up there. I was born and raised in York.” Graham interrupted, unable to help himself.

“Your father, Graham, and your mother Rose, always knew that their time away from the village was limited and dangerous…,” she took a deep breath and raised her head to look at the faces around her. “The time has come when we must all unite and return to our people.”

“This is ridiculous,” Graham said, staring at Eilidh as if it were the first time he had ever seen her.

“Graham,” she continued, undeterred by his outburst, “you weren’t born in York. Your mother, is a mortal, your father… was one of… he was a Highlander.”

Graham opened his mouth to speak again but Eilidh raised her finger to her lips.

“He was the finest diviner the village has ever known. Without your father we would not have the knowledge we do today. He left the village to learn more about the Dark Circle.” Eilidh took a deep breath resting her eyes on Corran. “He came to find the woman whose life you have just saved.”

“She’s not out of the woods yet,” Graham said, following Eilidh’s eyes.

“No, but you delivered her child safely and he will live,” Eilidh said softly.

“You can’t know that. No one can,” Graham said, “Of course I wish the little chap a long, healthy life, but who’s to know what tomorrow brings.”

“Your father did,” Eilidh replied.

Graham sighed with impatience. “I respect you, Eilidh, really I do and I value you as a friend, but what you are saying is just fantasy. You’ve just lost two of your friends and not one of you thought to call the police. Now you sit here and try and convince me that old legends and myths are reality. Your behavior … your thoughts … you are deluded,” he said, with an exasperated wave of his hands. He tried to rationalize Eilidh’s motives, tried to understand her thinking, but his mind kept returning to the same conclusion. He should, as a medical professional, be arranging mental health assessments en masse. Yet, despite his professional opinion, Graham couldn’t understand why he had made no attempt to act on his judgment.

“They killed him too, Graham… your father. He was the first one they took from us. He gave his life for the sake of the information that has brought us all together.”

“He was shot, Eilidh, by a real living human being. The man who shot him…”

“Was called John,” Eilidh finished.

“You could have read that in any newspaper from the time,” he replied, dismissively.

“And he escaped from custody, killing four prison guards in the process. He has never been recaptured,” Eilidh continued.

“Again, you could have found that information anywhere,” Graham said, shifting nervously.

He had never been comfortable talking about his father’s death and this occasion was no exception.

“Your mother disappeared shortly after your father’s death. You never forgave her for leaving you. But she went, Graham, because it was too dangerous for her to stay.”

“You talk nonsense. My mother had a nervous breakdown. - It is true that I blamed her for leaving me but over time I have grown to understand why she had to go.”

“It is also true, Graham, that it was your father’s death that drove you into medicine. It was your father’s death that drove you to inject yourself with insulin and it was your father’s teachings that gave me the skill to know what you were going to do that night,” she paused and fixed her eyes on his. “It is also true, Graham, that if I tell you to slide your hand in your trouser pocket you will find a tiny silver locket that your father gave you when he lay dying.”

“How did you know about the locket? I’ve never told anyone,” Graham said, instinctively pushing his hand into his pocket and closing his hand around the cold metal object.

“I know, Graham, because you are one of us,” she said simply. “Cast your mind back to your childhood. Remember those days in the mountains, capped with snow and carpeted with heather. See the Stag on the edge of the cliff and the eagle that swooped for its prey. Remember, Graham, because that is your home, the place you were born and the place where you belong.”

Graham stared at her, eyes wide with shock and disbelief.

Rose lifted her hand and rested it on his arm. He turned to face her and stared deep into her eyes.

“It’s true, isn’t it?” he whispered.

She nodded slowly. “Yes, Graham, it is true.”

******