Chapter Twenty-Seven
Slamming the door of the car, Clem drove out of the driveway. She was far too angry with Otto to be anywhere near her studio right now and needed to think. Since she had got back from Norfolk, she had promised her sisters that she would focus on finding ways to make money, but instead she had thrown herself into the VA exhibition, and now not only had she failed to find a solution to keeping the castle afloat she may have just discovered news that could sink the reputation of the whole family.
She had been driving randomly, but now she realised she was heading in the direction of the old railway station. She had been speaking to Iain McKenzie, her estates manager, about it and he had offered to drive her over, but he had given her directions and told her that her car was easily capable of handling the narrow road down to the station. Now she may as well go and have a look. A change of scene might help her gain some perspective on the problem.
She drove over a small stone bridge and sure enough there was a metal gate a few hundred yards later on the right with a ‘Private Property’ sign on it. She pulled over and opened the gate, closing it again after she drove through. She remembered school trips where a bunch of London kids would be taught the country code. Like there were actual rules to living in the countryside. Darren had said he had never heard anything so dumb, and the teacher had asked him if he would walk with his phone in his hand or his pocket at night. The answer was obvious and it gave the teacher the opportunity to explain that wherever people lived they grew up just knowing something. Closing gates was a country thing. Clem didn’t think her teacher had travelling to a private railway line on her list of dos and don’ts, but she closed the gate behind her anyway. Just in case.
Ruacoddy Halt had been built as part of a rash of private railway lines during the late Victorian era, as everyone wanted the Scottish experience, if only for three weeks in summer when it was warm and sunny, and London stank.
She imagined the finely dressed couples stepping down from the train. Their loud confident laughs ringing out across the glen as they walked to awaiting carriages or cars. Behind them, porters would be struggling with their trunks and guns; fishing rods and hat boxes being balanced on top of more trunks and picnic hampers.
Would they all head off to Ruacoddy or were some bound to Phoulhaig, with its draughty windows and smoky corridors? How many people used this line who weren’t visiting the nearby large estates?
The line had crept along until the fifties when it was deemed as redundant. The national network saw no value in running it and the Hiverton Estate agreed. The staff were reallocated, the windows were shuttered and the doors locked.
Now Clem bumped slowly along the narrow road towards the station, the glen spread out on either side and in the distance she spotted a few sheep. The tarmac road was mostly in decent repair but occasionally there were lumps and holes, sections eroded by rain no doubt and the occasional trespass of heather. It wasn’t as bad as she had anticipated, and she figured that it must be maintained by the estate hands. As the road drove down towards the small collection of buildings, Clem wondered if this would make a decent place for a holiday let. It was hugely exposed and stuck out like a sore thumb. Maybe it would appeal to people who wanted to get away from it all. God knows Clem couldn’t think of a more away from it all location. She parked up behind the station building and started to explore.
It seemed like the perfect location for a horror movie: idyllic by day but by night strange shapes moved in the heather.
She’d gone to Orford Ness once; another school trip that started with lessons on how to behave. Most of her school trips seemed to be about how to behave before the actual subject matter. This one had been a geography lesson. It had been dire. The beach was covered in stones and it was impossible to walk on them. The sky was white with imminent drizzle, the stones were grey and the sea was brown, but the light was incredible. Away from the screams and laughter of her friends, Clem had listened to the soft sounds of the tiny waves as they whispered in and out over the shingle. The light was flat and suddenly the air itself seemed to be muffled as a soft rain started to fall across the water. Within seconds the school party began to clamour and moan and the teacher called them all back to the minibus. For a second there had been a moment of absolute wonder. Clem recalled that now, as she looked around the quiet landscape. The sky was blue, the land was green and purple but there was the same sense of stillness. Maybe it would suit the right sort of person after all.
She walked on to where she supposed the tracks had run and had a look around. In front of her was the station building with the platform in front; it was only a foot higher than the tracks. At the end of the tracks stood a huge brick shed and she wondered if that could be converted as well. It didn’t look promising though; instead, she decided to explore the station building. She didn’t have keys but the window shutters unlatched easily enough and she could peer in and try to get a sense of the interior.
Clem’s first impressions were of surprise. Why wasn’t this place covered in graffiti? Where was the litter and broken glass? The benches that lined the front of the building were clean and their slats unbroken. The paint may be peeling away but she noticed one slat was new but unpainted. So some repairs were carried out but maintenance was of a minimum. Well that made sense. It went along with the empty plant troughs. Enough and no more. Looking into one of the rooms, she saw a switch on the wall and an overhead set of lights, so there was electricity. She checked her phone again, even if there was no signal. Finally she found a window that looked onto a small kitchen with a sink, so there was water as well. Yes, this could be converted; it would cost money, but if it was done just right they could market this as a very special luxury retreat. The river was within walking distance. Maybe it was deep enough to swim in – that would be a great selling point.
She dashed back to the car and slipped out of her heels and donned her new thick socks and walking boots. They lived in the car now and she had found herself needing them on regular occasions. They sat alongside her new wellingtons, which had been a less successful purchase. Her walking boots were a plain and functional pair of children’s boots that fitted perfectly. Unfortunately, the only wellies left in her size had pink unicorns on them. She had not been impressed, but had bought them and when she got home had got her Sharpies out and written rude words coming out of the unicorns’ mouths. It was childish but it made her laugh.
Now she ran over the rough grass towards the river. The grass was so short that she wondered if deer and sheep nibbled at it or if grass just didn’t grow much up in the mountains. There was so much to learn. She should have paid more attention in her geography classes. As she got closer to the river, she found it was wider than she expected and she wondered if there were fish in there. Some areas looked deep enough to swim in, especially on the far side, but there were a few shallow patches and even the odd rock and shingle island. This would be perfect for a picnic area. Maybe when they were renovating the station house they could build a small terrace down here. Somewhere to sit and sip cocktails.
As she walked back up the slope, the sun was warm on her face and she decided to just lie down for a minute and enjoy the silence. Lying on her back with her eyes closed, she could feel the sun warming her skin and she wondered how many more freckles she would have by the end of the day. She even had them on her shoulders now, and it had been a few summers since her freckles had got that out of control. Hopefully, if she got a few more she could kid everyone it was an actual tan. She could hear the river behind her and the chitter of little birds somewhere nearby. A bee was buzzing around but other than that there was silence, not even a breeze to stir the leaves.
In the peace and quiet she could finally think about Otto. How the hell had her grandfather hidden an art forger up here all those years? He obviously knew what she did and didn’t care. Clem hated bootlegs and counterfeit merchandising, but if she was honest, before now she hadn’t thought how she felt about forgers. It wasn’t something that had ever previously impacted on her, and now here was one sitting in the heart of Hiverton with the potential to blow it up. God, she was tempted to let her go hang. It would be embarrassing for the sisters, but a new broom and a fresh start. They would weather it out.
The bee was getting closer now, though, and Clem realised that she was getting tense, waiting to see if it actually landed on her. As the soft drone got closer and closer she could bear it no more and abruptly sat up. A flock of about twenty small birds erupted from out of the nearby heather and bobbed and flew further along the field and the bumblebee ambled away.
Brushing bits of grass out of her hair, she decided she would tell Ari about Otto and the painting, and suggest that they confess to the VA. Otto was an old lady now, so unlikely to be punished, and the family would just have to endure notoriety for a bit. Resolved that she had decided on a course of action, she headed towards the big shed before she left. Her decision wasn’t sitting easy on her conscience, but it was the simplest. And after all, it wasn’t their fault what their grandfather and his girlfriend had got up to half a lifetime ago.
She trudged up to the shed and craned her neck up to take it in. It was a lump of a building and added nothing to the place, but maybe it could be used for something.
There were no windows; instead, the building housed a huge pair of doors with a small, human-sized door in one of them. Wondering what sort of giants they kept in here, she tried the smaller door and was pleased to see it was unlocked. As she stepped in, she smelled earth, coal and metal and waited for her eyes to get used to the gloom. Perspex sheeting in the roof let some light in, but after the brilliance of the sunshine outside it took Clem a few moments to adjust and then her eyes lit up in amazement.
***
Rory was enjoying the drive back to the farm. The weather was lovely and his business had concluded early, so he took the scenic route home. In fact, the weather was so nice he might grab a flask of coffee, a book and head up to the tarn for a swim. It felt like a good day to bunk off work. Being the eldest of seven boys, and being the first one his folks always turned to, he was used to acting responsibly. Every so often, though, he enjoyed nothing more than skipping out on his duties and heading for the hills, and today was one of those days.
As he rounded a bend in the road, he saw a Range Rover coming up the narrow road from Ruacoddy Halt and was delighted to recognise it as Bo’s. As the car got to the gate, he was pleased to see that it was indeed her driving as she jumped out to open it, and he pulled over to the side of the road.
If he was strictly honest with himself, there may have been another reason he took the scenic road home, given as how it cut through the Ruacoddy lands, and now he was rewarded.
Clem gave him a wave as she jumped out of the car to get the gate. For once she had on a pair of good, sensible boots, and her pale legs were beginning to catch the sun. She was in a pair of denim shorts and had a sleeveless shirt that she had knotted at the waist, and her hair was glowing in the sunlight. She couldn’t look more like a local if she tried.
‘Rory! I found a train! A real live chuffing choo-choo!’
He smiled to himself; she might look Scottish but she sure as hell didn’t sound it.
‘Is that still there?! We used to explore it as boys.’
She laughed at him, leaning against her car. ‘Was it you lot that pinched the tyres off the cars then?’
He was certain she didn’t mean to be offensive, but really.
‘Why would I steal my neighbour’s tyres? Besides which, my father would have taken the switch to us.’
He remembered his father being pretty cross when the boys had told him about the train they had discovered, and he had told them off in no uncertain terms. He had gone as far to say he was disappointed in them.
The boys had continued to play on the engine, but had left the old cars alone and, of course, didn’t mention it again to their father. Eventually, the thrill of it palled; each time they played, the guilt gnawed away at them until they found other boyish delights and they left the locomotive once more in silence.
‘So the cars are still there as well then, are they?’ he said aware that he might have sounded a bit pompous before.
‘I reckon. They were all under tarpaulins, so I didn’t look much, plus a tractor and did I mention a train! We can sell the train and save the castle. A train must be worth a fortune, mustn’t it? What do you reckon? I think it could be the answer to all our prayers.’
Rory wanted to agree, but he was dubious. No doubt it was an expensive thing, but who on earth wanted to buy a steam engine these days? And it seemed so important to her that he wasn’t prepared to put a pin in her balloon. She was always so alive that just seeing her lightened his day.
‘Well good luck with that, now.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Actually, I’m glad I bumped into you—’
‘As you do in the middle of nowhere!’
‘What? Yes,’ Rory stumbled; she was skilled at making him sound stupid. ‘That is, I was heading over to your place. I have a plus-one invitation to Ollie Hearn’s wedding. He’s getting married to Mari, and I wonder if you would like to come with me?’
‘Ha! I’m already going. I’m her dressmaker. Speaking of which, I have to scoot; dresses to make, trains to sell!’ and with a whoop she jumped back into her car. As she drove off, she leant out the window, shouting, ‘See you at the wedding’, and sped away along the empty road, leaving Rory standing on the side of the tarmac, watching her and wondering how long she was planning on staying in Scotland.