The House on the Shore (8 page)

It was mid-morning when she returned to the croft.
She pushed
open the door with the toe of her boot,
and
carried four plastic bags of groceries into the kitchen, dropping them on the table with a sig
h
of relief.
She
rubbed the circulation back in
to her bloodless fingers, thankful that she wouldn’t
have to shop again for a few days
.

Anna stared at the Aga
and wondered if
her meagre savings would stand the strain of using the immersion heater for another day.
C
om
mon sense got the better of her
.
Squatting,
she opened the firebox.
She gasped, and rocked back on her heels.
Two shiny brass bullets lay on top of the firewood.
If she hadn’t bothered to check the kindling before
adding the firelighter and
striking the match, they
could
have exploded,
causing
God knows what
sort of damage.

Someone had left them for her.

Her breath caught in her throat.
T
he colour drained from her face
,
and h
er
fingers
clenched until her nails dug into her palm.
Someone had been in her cottage.
In all her thirty-two years on the planet, she’d
never felt so scared.

Her first inclination was to bolt out the door
,
jump into the Land Rover, and drive screamin
g to the nearest police station,
some
fifty miles
away
. C
hances
are
they woul
d laugh, and then remind her that she lived on the edge of one of largest sporting estates in Scotland
.
F
inding
cartridges
was not that unusual.
In all probability
,
a passing sportsman, without a thought to his actions, had carelessly tossed them into the
cowshed
.

Carefully she removed them, placing them on the table behind her.
She glanced round the small kitchen; everything seemed to be in its proper place.
She told
herself she was being foolish
for feeling scared
.
She
stood
still
, her head slightly to one side, listening for the slightest
sound, but
t
here was only silence.

Her movements stiff and awkward, she rested her hand on the banister and stepped onto the bottom tread of the staircase.
It creaked under her weight
,
the sound reverberating through the small cottage.
Her heart jumped in her chest
, h
er stomach clenched
. E
very nerve in her body felt
as if it had been electrified.

Anna swallowed the scream bubbling in her throat.
One by one she climbed the stairs. The door to her bedroom was slightly ajar.
Had she left it that way?
She couldn’t remember. She threw it open with all her strength.
It crashed against the wall.
The room was empty, yet s
he knew someone had been there.

She crossed the landing to the second bedroom.
The door was shut
just she ha
d left it.
Her hand trembled as it reached for the doorknob.
It turned easily.
She pushed open the door and stepped inside.
It too was empty.

Back in the kitchen she sat in the wooden rocker next to the Aga, and took one, then another deep breath and tried to relax.
She plucked a bullet off the table and examined it.
There was an outline of an animal etched into the brass.
A lion, or a tiger, perhaps?
Either way, it meant nothing to her.
As far as she was concerned, it was just
as deadly
as every other bullet she’d seen.

Anna
rolled the bullets in her hand
then dropped
them in
to
the dresser drawer out of harm’s way.
It was silly to worry
.
If she ha
d paid more attention when laying the fire, she probably would have noticed them lying amongst the bund
les of old papers and firewood.

An hour passed before she finally pull
ed
herself together
sufficiently to
drag the old table a
nd chair she’d found in the cow
shed into the shade of a tall Scots pine.
Armed with her laptop and notebook, she sat down with the intention of writing.
She stared at the small screen, but lingerin
g fear blocked her inspiration.

A flash of movement on the small pebble and sand beach in front of the croft caught her attention.
I
t was the otter she’d heard calling earlier that morning, out with her young cubs on a hunting trip in
the still of a Highland summer
day.
Anna watched them frolic in the rock pools and kelp beds, safe from human interference.
When they disappeared into the gentle lapping waves she rested her chin in her hands and re-read her notes.
Slowly, a scene formed in her mind.

The stranger came again last night.
He wore the kilt and the plaid, but I knew from the cut of the cloth that he was no ordinary Highlander.
In the dim light cast by the fire, I judged him to be tall, certainly taller than my father.
As for his colouring I could not tell, but thought his hair to be dark as a raven’s wing.
He appeared to be of gentle birth, for he spoke no Gaelic.
His manner and bearing su
ggested he was an educated man.

I had been sent to bed early, but could not sleep.
Instead, I lay huddled under my thin blanket in the corner of the box bed I shared with my younger brothers and sisters, and listened to the hushed voice of the stranger as he told my mother and father the dreadful news.
Of course we’d heard the rumours
,
there was hardly a glen in the Highlands that had not
,
of tenants being forced to leave their homes for poorer land on the coast, the roofs of their houses torn down and burnt to prevent their return.
We’d heard tales of women and children being left to starve, of the elderly dying in their beds.
W
e never
thought it would happen to us.

Suddenly, the voices stopped
.
T
he stranger raised his head and looked directly at me.
A cold shiver gripped me.
I sensed something was wrong and I knew that our lives were about to change forever.
Like my grandmother and her grandmother before her, I had been blessed with the gift of the
Sight,
the ability to see into the future, but tonight all I could feel was a sense of foreboding, so strong that it was almost palpable.

Anna had just finished typing the last word when she heard the sound of an approaching vehicle.
Shading her eyes against the sun, she saw a Range Rover drive through the narrow gate to the croft.

Irritated at being disturbed, she saved her work
. She closed her laptop
and turned to look at the vehicle
.
A
tall, sandy-haired
man
climb
ed
out.
He wore
a red and green tartan kilt and a plain lovat green
tweed waistcoat and
jacket
.
T
here was something about his bearing that was vaguely familiar.
As he drew closer it sud
denly dawned on her who he was.

“Alistair
.
Alistair Grant!” she said,
and rushed
forward to greet him.
“Of all the people, I certainly didn’t expect to you to come and visit me.
I suppose
I should call you Laird now.”

He laughed and kissed her cheek.
Apart from a few laughter lines around his eyes and his sun-streaked hair, he’d changed little over the intervening years, whereas she had
.
Her hair was longer now for one thing, and she was slimmer too, yet Alist
air had
recognize
d her at once.

“No need to be formal, Anna, my dear.
How lovely
to see you again, and looking
radiant too.
I heard you where back in the glen and felt I had to come and say hello.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Yes it has,” he said, resting his hip on the table.
“It must be all of what?
Ten, no, twelve years since we last saw each other?”

“Your sister’s wedding, if I recall.
How is she
,
by the way?”

“Sophie is
living in matrimonial bliss in Hong Kong.
She has two children now, with a third on the way.
I was sorry to hear about your grandmother.
I know the old lady was very dear to you.”

Anna swallowed the lump
that
had suddenly formed in her throat.
“S
he was, and I miss her dreadfully.
W
hy don’t you come up to the house
?
I was about to make some coffee or th
ere’s iced tea, if you prefer.”

“Iced tea would be nice.”

“Come on then
.
”
She linked
her arm with his
.
“This must be a difficult time for you too, with your father’s illness.
I hear you’ve been living in the South of France.
It must be quite a culture shock coming back here after so many years away.
Are you home for good
,
or is this a flying visit?”

“I have a few business matters which require my urgent attention, so I’ll be here for the foreseeable future.
What ab
out you?”

“I’m planning on staying for the summer at least.”

“That’s marvellous.
We can renew our acquaintance.
We used to be good friends wh
en we were younger.
”

“That was a long time ago, Alistair.
If I remember correctly, you dumped me in favour of Lord so-and-so’s spotty daughter.
W
hat was her name?”

Alistair pulled out a cha
ir from under the kitchen table
and sat down.
“Fiona.
Fiona Douglas.
Her father owns an estate in Aberdeenshire.”

“That’s right.
When I left at the end of that summer you were about to be led
to
the altar.
What happened?”

“I saw sense, and
realized
I was in love with you,” he replied, with an infectious grin.

For a long moment
,
Anna stared at h
im,
and then
laughed out loud.
“Y
ou always did have a good sense of humour
,
Alistair
.”

“You wound me, my lady
,
” he said, placing his hand on his heart.

“Oh, please…we were teenagers.
We didn’t know how to make a commitment for the next twenty-four hours, let alone a lifetime.”
Anna handed him a glass.

“My, my, you
have
become cynical in your old age.
W
e won’t fall out over the past.
Y
ou must have
realized
that it
was my father who interfered.”

“Really?
I didn’t know that.”

“
H
e had this idea about merging the Douglas estate with ours, so he insisted I end our relationship.”

“What relationship?”
Anna asked, taking a sip from her glass.
“We hung round together.
We were nothing more than friends, and you know it.
I wouldn’t even let you kiss me.
I was seventeen years old and about to
go up
to university.
I wasn’t ready for a serious relationship, and what’s more, you were halfway through your studies at Cambridge.
It would have been a disaster for both of us.”