Kingdom of Shadows (31 page)

‘Not physically, no.’ He put his hands into his pockets. He did not move any closer to her. ‘I am merely here to warn you. Scotland has always suffered from absentee English landlords. They don’t care for the country; they don’t love the land. All they care about is the amount of money they can make out ofit –’

‘I am a Scot, Mr Forbes –’

‘No, Mrs Royland, you are English. English in your heart and your methods; married to an Englishman. English to the core!’ He meant it as an insult as only a nationalist Scot can mean it. ‘And now Duncairn doesn’t want you. You do not belong there and it has never belonged to you. Keep away, Mrs Royland. Allow the people who love the place to fight for it –’

Even as he said it, he knew he was wrong. She belonged there. The day he saw her the echoes had reached out to her, not to him. He had felt them, yes, but they had spoken to her.

They stared at each other angrily for a moment, the leaves whirling around their feet as the wind got up again. Casta gave a quiet throaty growl as she sat at Clare’s feet.

Neil took a deep breath. ‘I am sorry, but this is something I feel very strongly about.’

‘So do I, I assure you.’ She was trying very hard to steady herself. ‘As it happens I am going up to Scotland within the next day or two.’

‘Don’t bother. You’ll only be in our way.’

‘Our way?’ Clare gasped. ‘Who exactly is “our”?’ She was furiously indignant. ‘What the hell do you mean?’

‘Earthwatch. We shall be co-ordinating the opposition to on-shore oil prospecting and drilling throughout the east coast of Scotland. We intend to fight Sigma all the way.’

She frowned, trying to collect her wits. ‘How exactly do you know so much about all this?’

‘We have our methods.’ He swung round with an exclamation of disgust as another car turned into the drive and following his gaze Clare saw Sir David Royland’s old Bentley in the distance. Slowly it began to make its way towards them between the trees.

With relief she turned to Neil. ‘I think you’d better go. That is my husband’s brother, and I don’t want any trouble.’

‘I don’t intend to make trouble, Mrs Royland. Not here.’ Neil looked grave. ‘However, as you have visitors I shall leave. I can’t expect support from pseudo-environmentalists like Sir David any more than from you –’

‘You know my brother-in-law?’ Behind them the Bentley drew to a halt beneath the trees.

‘By reputation. New jobs for rural areas – that is his ticket isn’t it? Very praiseworthy until you discover that the jobs are for newcomers and the people who have lived in the area for centuries are excluded from his concern.’ Neil climbed into his battered Land Rover. ‘I’m glad I’ve met you at last, Mrs Royland. I don’t suppose there will be any need for us to meet again. I suggest if you want to avoid any unpleasantness you keep away from Duncairn from now on.’ Slamming his car door, he turned on the ignition and reversed violently away, sending the gravel flying from beneath the wheels before he drove, without a backward glance, down the drive.

‘Your visitor seemed in quite a hurry.’ Gillian heaved herself out of the passenger seat. ‘I hope we haven’t driven him away.’

Clare gave a rueful grimace. She found she was trembling. ‘You did actually, and I’m very grateful.’

‘Who was he?’ David walked around the car and took her arm. ‘Are you all right, Clare? You look shaken. Where is Mrs Collins?’

Clare took a deep breath. ‘I think he was some kind of environmental campaigner. He seemed to think I’d sold Duncairn and he didn’t like it. I think he was threatening me.’

‘How did he know where you lived?’ David asked sharply.

Clare shrugged. ‘He was a Scot. He seemed to know Duncairn. He knew all about the offer, the details – everything.’

David shook his head. ‘They have very good sources, these people. They are into everything. A damn nuisance! I’m glad we turned up when we did.’

‘So am I.’ Clare gave a reluctant smile. ‘Come in. Sarah will be back from church soon.’

She saw David and Gillian look at one another. Gillian nodded. ‘We’d love to scrounge a cup of coffee, Clare, darling, if that’s all right. We’re having lunch with David’s agent and his wife, so we thought we’d pop in. Just in case you were lonely, with Paul away in Zurich.’

‘Paul and I had a bit of a chat,’ David went on as they followed Clare indoors, ‘just before he left yesterday. We talked about the trust and other family matters, and he asked us to look in on you, to make sure you were all right.’

‘It was kind of you to come.’ The house was full of the delicious smell of roasting chicken as Clare led them into the drawing room. Her heart had sunk. So that was it. A deputation. The Roylands were rallying behind Paul already.

‘He’s worried about you, Clare,’ Gillian put in. She lowered herself cautiously into a chair. ‘You’re too much alone here. You rattle around in this great house.’

‘I have Mrs Collins.’ Clare was on the defensive now.

Through the window she could see Sarah walking slowly up the drive. ‘I’m not alone, I can assure you. Besides, I enjoy my own company. Look, Sarah’s just got back. I’ll go and ask her to make us some coffee –’

‘No. You talk to Gillian. I’ll go.’ David was on his feet again almost as soon as he had sat down.

Gillian and Clare sat and looked at each other a; the door closed. ‘Men!’ Gillian said comfortably after a moment. ‘I expect he wants to wash his hands.’ She gave a light laugh. ‘How silly! He could have said.’

Restlessly Clare stood up again too. Her brain was whirling. Isobel, Duncairn, Neil Forbes – and now the Roylands. She stood staring down at the dead ash in the fireplace, trying to collect her thoughts, trying to think of something to say to Gillian who was sitting behind her. ‘Did they settle matters about the trust?’ she asked at last.

Gillian shrugged. ‘God knows. I think Paul is being a bit crass about that. He swore to David he didn’t need the money, so why turn the whole trust on its head? Even Geoffrey thinks it’s too bad.’

Clare thought she detected a certain uneasinesss in her visitor. She frowned. ‘I think the whole idea is stupid. I wish he’d never brought it up.’ Restlessly she glanced at the clock. ‘Where on earth has David got to? Why has he been so long?’

‘There’s no hurry,’ Gillian said hastily. ‘Leave him, Clare. It’s nice for us to get the chance to talk.’

‘I know.’ Clare gave a brittle smile. ‘But still, I think I’ll go and see what’s happened. If you’re going out to lunch, you’ll need to hurry –’ She was uncomfortable and suspicious. It was unlike David to bother himself with domestic trivia; ordering coffee was not something he would normally ever do.

She closed the door after her firmly, and took a deep breath, looking round the silent hall. The cloakroom door was ajar, the room beyond it in darkness. So much for washing his hands.

He must have gone straight to the kitchen after all.

The kitchen door was half open. From the shadowed hall she could see Sarah standing near the table. Behind her on the cooker she could see the chicken in its roasting dish. Sarah had obviously been going to baste the bird before she had even taken off her coat. Clare wasn’t sure what made her stop and listen; perhaps it was the same uneasy suspicion which had driven her from the drawing room.

‘You do understand, Mrs Collins, I would never normally ask anyone questions like this.’ She could hear her brother-in-law’s voice at its most confidential and reassuring. ‘But we are all so concerned for her state of mind. My brother has been enormously grateful for the way you’ve kept an eye on Mrs Royland.’ He paused. From where Clare was standing he was out of sight, behind the door. ‘Tell me, is she still having these strange turns of hers?’

Clare clenched her fists. The bastard! But something stopped her pushing open the door and bursting in. She wanted to hear what Sarah had to say.

Sarah was nodding slowly. ‘On Friday, Mrs Cassidy rang and I went up to Mrs Royland’s bedroom to tell her there was a call. She had said she was going up to rest. That’s what she usually says when she’s going to do her meditation as she calls it.’ Clare could see the woman twisting her gloves between her fingers uncomfortably. She had scooped them off the table as David confronted her. ‘It frightens me, Sir David, it really does. And the dog. The dog won’t go near her when she’s doing it. Its hackles rise and it runs away.’

‘What exactly does she do?’ David asked quietly.

‘She sits on the floor, with this lighted candle in front of her, and oh, sir, I’m so afraid sometimes, it’s all I can do not to give in my notice and go. I can’t bear being in the same house with her, and that’s the truth. If Mr Royland hadn’t begged me to stay –’

‘But what do you see?’ David persisted quietly.

‘Spirits!’ Sarah said darkly. ‘Shadows. Ghosts, moving in the darkness round her.’

In the hall Clare gasped. She felt suddenly very sick.

‘You are quite sure of this?’ Even without seeing his face she could hear the scepticism in David’s voice. She saw Sarah colour. ‘If you don’t believe me, you ask Mr Royland. He’s seen her do it. He told me. In the London house. And look at the dog! Animals always know. There’s evil in this house, Sir David. Evil!’

Clare leaned against the wall, pressing her burning face against the cool wooden panelling.

‘It’s good of you to stay, my dear.’ David’s voice reached her dimly. It was reassuring, and just a little condescending. ‘As I told you, I know Mr Royland is deeply grateful. He is relying on you to look after her while he’s away, but he is seeking expert help. There is nothing for you to worry about in the meantime, I promise you –’

He broke off as Clare marched into the kitchen. Her face was white, but somehow she kept her voice steady as she looked from one to the other of them. ‘So, where is this coffee? Don’t forget you’re in a hurry, David.’ She smiled at Sarah as brightly as she could. ‘Gillian and I thought you must have run off together!’

She saw the quick glance flashed between them as Sarah agitatedly threw her gloves down on the kitchen table.

‘I’m so sorry, Mrs Royland. I’ve only just got back from church …’

‘That’s all right, Sarah.’ Clare smiled again, somehow forcing her face to act normally. ‘Perhaps you would bring it through as soon as you can. David –?’ She held the door open for him to precede her up the passage towards the front of the house.

It wasn’t true! It couldn’t be true! That Sarah had watched her meditate! That she had seen something?
Dear God, it
couldn’t be true!

Somehow she got through the next half hour pouring coffee, talking cheerfully, watching David and Gillian, knowing they were watching her. It seemed a lifetime before they left at last and she could go back to the kitchen where Sarah was thickening the gravy for lunch. She had removed her coat at last, and put away her gloves.

‘What do you mean by lying to Sir David about me?’ Clare cried. ‘How can you tell him those wicked things?’

Putting down her wooden spoon, Sarah turned. Her face was white. ‘I never tell lies!’

‘You told him you’d spied on me. Oh, I believe that! But you said you’d seen things!’

‘I did see things.’ Two bright pink patches appeared on Sarah’s cheeks. ‘I told him the truth! What you’re doing is evil, Mrs Royland. If it wasn’t for Mr Royland I wouldn’t stay here another minute!’

‘Then don’t. Please don’t stay. Certainly not to please my husband. You can go. Right now, if you’re so afraid of me –’

‘No.’ Sarah was shaking her head. ‘No. No. I can’t leave. I have to stay. I have to try and help you. I’ve been praying for you.’ There were tears in her eyes. ‘Please, let me stay –’ She broke off as the door opened and Casta nosed her way into the kitchen.

Clare stared down at the dog, then she dropped to her knees and put her arms around Casta’s neck, burying her face in the thick fur. Casta wagged her tail and licked Clare’s hand.

‘Was she really afraid?’ Clare looked up at Sarah suddenly.

Sarah nodded. ‘Animals always know, Mrs Royland.’

‘Don’t leave me, Sarah. Please.’ Suddenly Clare’s anger had gone. It was replaced by fear. She could feel herself beginning to shake. ‘I shan’t be doing it any more. None of it. No yoga. No meditation. It was really only daydreaming, you know. I wasn’t doing anything terrible. It was just something to fill the emptiness …’

Sarah’s face softened. ‘You should do that with real people, Mrs Royland.’ Embarrassed by the sudden intimacy she turned back to the cooker and picking up the wooden spoon she began restlessly to stir the gravy. ‘Mr Royland has been very worried about you, you know.’

‘I’m sure he has.’ Clare’s voice was dry. ‘Well, there is no need for him to be worried any more. It is finished.’

‘She said she could
see
the people, Zak!’ Clare came straight to the point. She had barely looked at the bright, sparsely furnished room with its view across the Cam. ‘Don’t you see, she said she could see
them
!’

She had parked Sarah’s car near St John’s and walked through the narrow streets towards the river. She had barely slept the night before, and when she had, the nightmare had returned: the eyes, the bars, the terrible, all-embracing fear. She had rung Zak at half past seven and set off for Cambridge only half an hour later.

Zak was sitting on the edge of his desk, his long legs crossed, his fingers interlaced on his knees. ‘Clare, I did warn you,’ he said gently.

‘You didn’t say they were
real
. That other people could see them! You said it was telepathy when you came to Campden Hill! But you saw her, you really saw Isobel!’ Her voice was unsteady.

‘I’m not sure what I saw, Clare.’ He spoke very slowly, considering every word. ‘I think I saw her, but it could have been telepathy. That is the most likely explanation.’ He hesitated, his confidence wavering before her attack. ‘I don’t believe I really saw anything physical, and I very much doubt if your Mrs Collins did either. My guess is that in her case she was making it up; trying to impress; saying something she knew would shock your brother-in-law. Perhaps she had been exaggerating when she talked about it to your husband, and she couldn’t retract what she’d said.’