Chapter 10
Sleeping in the cellar proved difficult.
The middle room, where we had our table and stools, was relatively unvisited.
The other two rooms, the ones with the staircases that led up, one to outside and one into the hall, were however in constant use throughout the night.
Barrels rumbled up or down the stairs, crates clattered as they were dragged, all with a background of loud conversation, mostly in such broad Scots that even Lachlan couldn’t understand it.
Eventually we gave up trying to find peace and privacy and all bundled ourselves up in blankets together.
The room was incredibly dark and it made us all feel slightly more secure to be able to feel the others close by, particularly when a couple of brawny men started fighting, trading punches and wrestling on the earthen floor to the jeers of onlookers.
Dad had taken Lenny and me to a holiday camp once for a cheap week, and the resemblance was remarkable.
When the fighting men knocked over a candle and had to stop scrapping to extinguish the resulting fire, we decided to keep a watch all night.
‘Do you want to be the one to test the “probably can’t die” theory in a room full of burning wooden crates?’ Mal asked, when David asked if it was really necessary. ‘While you’re asleep and vulnerable wrapped only in an absolutely not-flame-retardant blanket?’
‘Mal is right,’ Lachlan said, and again everyone listened to him as though he were the leader. ‘While there are so many people moving about and naked flames, we’re safer keeping a watch.’
He and I volunteered for first watch and the others settled down in the corner.
The dog stayed where it was, which surprised me.
I would have thought that people, real people from its perspective, would have been preferable to hanging around with a bunch of whatever we were to a three-centuries-ago animal.
But perhaps it was hoping for more meat scraps and it had curled up and tucked itself in behind the sleepers.
Everyone lapsed into quiet and soft breathing. Lachlan and I stood in silence for a while, then, once my eyes had adjusted to the dark and I could see well enough not to skin my shins with every step, I paced up and down while Lachlan watched me, his head tilted as though he was thinking.
‘What’s the matter?’ I asked eventually, when his frown looked as though it might be permanent.
David stirred at the sound of my voice. ‘Whassamatter?’ he asked, blearily.
‘Nothing, sorry, it’s all fine,’ Lachlan replied and then came over to where I’d sat down on one of the stools, stretching my legs out in front of me and staring at my boots. ‘What do you mean?’ he asked, now whispering.
‘You look disgruntled and a bit upset.’ I moved my stool over so that he could pull another up alongside. ‘More upset than this situation warrants, I should say. When the earl couldn’t see me, I thought you were going to throw yourself off the headland.’
Lachlan sighed heavily and slumped. ‘I was so sure,’ he said quietly. ‘It was all I could imagine. You’re here because you can communicate with relatives and I’m here because I know what you have to say.’
‘And the others are collateral damage?’ I threw a quick glance at the sleeping forms, mostly hidden by the wooden fortification.
‘I told you, they shouldn’t even have been here.’
‘But they might be meant to be here. Maybe it’s David that’s needed, or Kaylinn. Maybe none of this is anything to do with us and we are the ones who came by accident.’
Despite the grim darkness of this smelly little room, it was nice to have Lachlan talking to me.
‘But why bring you? If they are the important ones, then you got picked up accidentally, on your own. And that’s a stretch too far, I think.
’ Lachlan’s eyes were all over my face. Even in this partial darkness, lit only by the occasional candle passing through or the light that came in from above and sneaked under the door, I could see his eyes.
Everything else was shadow of various grades, but his eyes were very, very visible.
They were grey and steady and it felt as though we were having a separate conversation when he looked at me like that, one that made my cheeks heat up.
‘Lachlan.’ I leaned forward so that our heads were close together. ‘We have no idea what is a stretch and what isn’t. We know nothing. So we can’t rule anything out, can we? You’re not expected to know.’
‘Thank you. I need to hear that.’ Again that long steady stare. ‘You’re actually wasted on teaching chemistry,’ he observed mildly, his tone at odds with his eyes, which felt as though they were boring into parts of me that weren’t easily visible. ‘Why chemistry anyway?’
I shrugged dismissively. ‘I was good at it. And you’re changing the subject.
’ I didn’t want to talk about teaching. I wanted to know why Lachlan was taking failure so personally.
I wanted to know how we were going to get out of here.
What I really wanted to know was whether he thought we were stuck here forever because every time I thought of that my neck would sweat and I felt sick and I wanted to share the worry.
But there was no point in asking. We all held that fear and voicing it would make it real.
‘Humour me. Given everything you’ve said about your dad basically trying to force the family history onto you, I’d have thought you’d be keen to use what you know.’
‘What, force it onto other kids, you mean? No, whenever Dad had Lenny and me, half of all the holidays and as many weekends as he could, it would be Tales of the McKells and weird Scots history. I was more interested in Pony Club and hanging out with my friends so I didn’t really listen.
I thought it was a bit boring, actually, so I didn’t even pretend to listen; only enough to keep Dad from nagging me.
It’s Lenny who has the real interest in the family history. Hence…’ I waved at the walls.
‘Maybe it was your brother who’s meant to be here,’ Lachlan observed, his tone still mild.
And here came the guilt again. ‘We split up when the rain came in – he wanted to go and look at some walls or something. It would have been easy, surely, to pick him up then? If Time, or whatever is at work here, really wanted him?’ I tried to sound neutral but my voice must have given me away.
‘You think it was a mistake too? That your brother should be here, not you?’ Lachlan still sounded calm, but there were sharp edges to that question.
‘It wouldn’t surprise me.’ Now I really did sound bitter. ‘Lenny was always the chosen one. “Oh yes, Dad, do tell me more about family history, I’m all ears!”’ I mimicked an eager schoolboy voice.
Fear and love and obligation and guilt. They were all filling me up so I barely had any space for anything else.
There was a bit of a pause then and I hoped I hadn’t sounded too bitter.
I liked Lachlan and I didn’t want him to think I was such a cow that I hated my brother for his love of history, even if that was so close to the truth that it made me uneasy.
‘We have to get back.’ Lachlan spoke so quietly, I almost didn’t hear.
His words were subsumed under the mass of raging contradictory emotions that were making my stomach rebel against the cheese and dubious meat dinner.
But when he repeated them with slightly more force, I stopped worrying about my sibling relationship and the fear came thundering to the fore.
‘You think we might not?’
Lachlan slumped a bit further. ‘I dunno,’ he said and sounded completely defeated. ‘I want to be reassuring. I need to be. This lot—’ he threw a glance at the sleeping huddle ‘—they need me to be in charge.’
‘But why?’ I had to push down the feeling that I also looked to him to be in charge, to know what was going on. ‘That’s not fair.’
Lachlan sighed so deeply that the table moved. ‘Someone has to be.’
‘You don’t have to take it on yourself though.’ I touched his arm. ‘You’re allowed to be as scared as the rest of us.’
‘But am I allowed to show it?’ I got a quick glance.
‘Admit it, Pax. If nobody takes charge, if nobody leads – well, you’ll know this, being a teacher.
Ten minutes of leaderless milling about and anarchy breaks out.
It would be like Lord of the Flies down here.
They’re scared, they’re desperate and we can live without everyone turning on everyone else. ’ Another sigh. ‘So it has to be me.’
He sounded so forlorn that I didn’t know what to say. I wanted to reassure him, but how could I when we were all as out of our depth as one another here? Instead I touched his hand where it lay on the table and hoped that said it all.
Lachlan put his other hand over mine. His was heavy and warm and reassuringly rough in places.
‘I don’t know, Pax,’ he went on. ‘I’m feeling useless here.
All those years of study and I’m not getting us home.
’ Now his sideways glance was rueful. ‘I need to get back. Otherwise all my furniture is sitting around in a cottage by a burn while my redundancy money is dwindling down—’
‘Redundancy money?’ I interrupted him. ‘I thought you were a history professor?’