Chapter 2 #2
We’re pleased to enclose the advance negotiated with the publisher.
Please be aware that the deadline has now been confirmed below for final submission of the completed manuscript.
They will require confirmation of your theories regarding the highland clans before publication can progress any further.
She looked at the check. It was low four figures, but it was at least something. That and the money in lieu of notice from work and she should at least be able to find somewhere to live until she got another job.
She crossed the room to her desk and opened up her laptop. It coughed slowly into life and then she had to wait another age for the Internet to load. She spent the rest of the day looking for places to live.
She lost count of the number of phone calls she made. They all followed the same pattern.
“Hi, can I ask about the room to let?”
“Sure.”
Then some small talk before the killer blow from them. “And what job do you have?”
“Well, actually I’ve just lost my-”
The endings ranged from abrupt to polite, but they were all the same. No one wanted to let a house to someone without provable income. She tried mentioning the check from the publisher but that made no difference.
She left several messages for people, hoping they’d get back to her.
She signed up to as many email alerts as she could find.
Finally, she began to cast her net wider.
Did she really need to stay in Cromarty?
Just because she’d grown up here wasn’t really enough of a reason to stay. What about moving somewhere different?
She requested callbacks, filling in her details and her needs. They weren’t much. Just a room. That would do. She didn’t have much stuff. Since her parents had died, she’d given away a lot of possessions, and had never really regretted doing so.
It was nine o’clock that night when she got her first call back. It was the call that changed her life.
She was laid on her bed reading a nineteenth century treatise about the founding of Sweetheart Abbey, tapping the page as she did so. “I told him I was telling the truth,” she said out loud. “Right here. Some early sources believe Wallace MacGregor founded the abbey in memory of his father.”
She was doing her best not to think about Greg. When her cellphone rang, she jumped. She wasn’t expecting a call. At first, she thought it might be Greg but nope, unknown number.
“Hello?” she said, holding it up to her ear.
“Is that Miss MacCallister?”
“Yes, who is this?”
“Hi, my name’s Albert Drayton. I work for Time to Move. You signed up for alerts on our website, is that right?”
“Oh, did I? Have you got something for me?”
“I’m not going to lie, it’s not the greatest property but it’s the only thing we’ve got in your price range.”
“Where is it?”
“MacCallister Castle.”
“Sorry, what?”
“MacCallister Castle. Have you heard of it?”
“Heard of it? I’m writing a book about it.”
“Oh, well that’s great. Would you like me to arrange for you to have a look around?”
“Hang on.” Something suddenly occurred to her. “Is this a joke? Did Karen put you up to this?”
Drayton sounded confused. “Who’s Karen?”
“Never mind. Just answer me this. How is MacCallister Castle in my price range?”
There was silence on the other end for a moment. “It’s been on the market for a while. It’s proving…challenging to let out.”
“Why? It’s not falling down is it?”
“No, no. Nothing like that. It’s just been difficult to get anyone to take it on. The landlord’s been forced to drop the price a couple of times and when I saw your details, I gave him a ring and asked if he’d drop it enough to make it worth you looking. You are looking for long term, right?”
“If it’s the right place, I could spend the rest of my life there. When can I come and see it?”
“When are you free?”
“Anytime,” she said, that single word containing a lot of information. No job. No boyfriend. No house. She was as free as anyone could be.
“Great, can you manage tomorrow afternoon?”
“You do Sunday viewings?”
“Of course. Shall we say three o’clock.”
“Perfect.”
“See you tomorrow then.”
She made a note in her diary of the time before putting her cellphone on charge.
It didn’t seem possible. MacCallister Castle.
The place where the MacGregors had died out if the rumors were to be believed.
She hardly dared to hope she might live there.
The place was closed to the public, so she’d only been able to see it from her bedroom window.
As far as she knew it had been empty for years, centuries maybe. Some of the books said the place was cursed, that a mysterious silver key had damned the MacGregors and then the MacCallisters in turn.
She didn’t know about that, but she did sometimes wonder if any MacGregor skeletons were there, buried in some hidden dungeon by their bitter rivals.
That was what her book was about really. The mystery behind the end of the MacGregor clan. Gone from ruling half the highlands and favored by the king to nothing in a generation. A single war had scattered them all. How was that possible?
Her research had given her some answers but also led to more questions. Maybe she’d be able to find out the truth at MacCallister Castle itself. Could she explore it? Find the dungeon? Find the truth? Maybe lay a few ghosts of her own to rest and finish her book at the same time.
There was more to it than that. She shared a surname with the clan who’d wiped out the MacGregors. She didn’t know if she was descended from them directly but ever since she’d found out about what happened she wanted to know more.
The MacGregors had attempted to destroy the MacCallisters and it was only through dumb luck that they’d failed.
Sometimes she dreamed of meeting the laird of the MacGregors.
She could picture him. A brute of a man with a sneer on his face, greasy hair, filthy nails.
He’d not have a kind bone in his body. She’d ask him why he’d tried so hard to destroy the MacCallisters, attacking them out of the blue when they’d been nothing but kind to him.
It was academic of course. She would never meet him. She would also never be given the okay to rent the castle. Drayton hadn’t asked her on the phone about her job but when he found out, he’d presumably send her on her way.
Still, even if he did, she might get a chance to look around the place she’d dreamed about for as long as she could remember. Perhaps take a few photos to include in the book.
She refused to get her hopes up, but she couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to actually live there. A cursed castle haunted by the ghosts of the past. Would she be welcome there? Only time would tell.