Chapter Twenty-Eight
As soon as she got home, she ran to the top of the tower and called Nick. She had a solution for Otto and now she may have also solved the family’s money worries. Attaching the photos she’d taken at the station, she asked her if she could dig up a suitable buyer or auctioneer.
‘Did you see my other messages about using the castle for a sights of the highland-style holiday.’
‘Yeah, yeah, that sounds great,’ said Clem dismissively, ‘but what do you think about that train? Could this be the solution? And did I tell you about the train station itself? I reckon people would spend loads to stay there, or we could sell it?’
‘I’m not sure about spending more money at the moment. If we sell the castle, what’s the point?’
‘Christ Nick, you’re as negative as Rory. He didn’t think the train was going to sell either.’
‘Did he say that? Who’s Rory anyway? Is he the estate manager? Because he probably knows more about it.’
‘No, Rory’s a local farmer that used to play on it as a kid. Not a train expert. Honestly, Nick, look at the photos, it’s incredible.’
The photos finally uploaded and Nick rang off, admitting that it did look impressive and she would organise something as quickly as possible.
Thrilled that Nick actually sounded impressed, Clem took a minute to flick through her messages. There was one from Aster about a hydroelectric scheme, which she would look at later, one from Nick about accommodation – but Nick had just mentioned that so she ignored it – and one from Paddy about the exhibition show. She rang her up immediately.
‘I’ve just seen your note about modelling in the show. Are you insane? Why are you asking? I’m building the entire collection to fit you. As usual.’
‘What about the old clothes? Will you get anyone to walk in them?’
It was a good question and one that had been causing Clem some concern. Giles from the museum wanted them untouched. Clem wanted them worn. She wanted people to actually experience them, show how they moved, discuss how they felt wearing them. Of course, part of the problem was going to be finding models. Ari had volunteered William and Leo to wear some of the children’s clothing, but a lot of the servants’ uniforms were too small for the average model. Even some of the gowns and men’s suits were on the small side for the girls. She would need to call the modelling agency with the measurements and see who they could suggest.
‘I want to present a country house weekend. This won’t be a buying collection, but a place to display the clothes I have found, plus a few modern-day outfits and evening gowns that I have designed. There’s also a wedding dress created by the community. I want to show a sense of blurring between the concept of them and us over the centuries. If that is possible. I was thinking of a Lord of Misrule-style promenade.’
‘No, you’ve lost me,’ said Paddy.
‘Well, I have some footmen outfits, so I thought they could escort someone in a ballgown, and I have a gentleman’s evening outfit and I thought he could walk out with one of the maids. You know that sort of thing. Proper topsy-turvy.’
The girls carried on chatting about ideas until Paddy yawned and said she needed to sleep before her flight in the morning. She had a photoshoot the following afternoon in Calabria.
‘Early night hey?’
‘It’s ten o’clock, Clem, it’s not that early!’
Clem looked at her phone in surprise.
‘I kid you not, Paddy, the sun hasn’t set yet. It’s still daylight up here!’
Clem could only convince Paddy when she sent a selfie and they both waited for the photo to upload.
Laughing, Paddy said that she would come and visit as soon as she could. Like the other sisters, she also wanted to come and explore. Otto sounded intriguing, Rory sounded gorgeous and the locals sounded like great fun. And all Clem would talk about were the clothes.
As they hung up, Clem considered calling Ari, but realised it was probably too late and decided to call her and tell her all about Otto in the morning. Bad news could always wait.
***
The following morning, Clem woke up bleary eyed. After chatting to Paddy, she had returned to her studio and started sketching some more, not turning in until the very small hours. She had slept fitfully and knew that something was troubling her. She also knew not to push these instincts: whatever it was would make itself known. She had had a busy day yesterday and made loads of important decisions. However, her uneasy sleep suggested that one of them was wrong.
As she headed downstairs she heard a scream, followed by a series of shouts coming from outside the castle entrance. As Clem raced down the grand staircase, her heart pounding in her chest, the screams and shouts from outside the castle entrance grew more frantic and desperate with each passing second. She burst through the heavy wooden doors, her breath catching in her throat as she took in the scene before her.
The Royal Mail van sat idling on the drive, its engine rumbling ominously as the postman stood beside it, his face twisted in shock and horror. Miss Farano and Mr McKenzie were hunched over something on the ground, their expressions a mix of anguish and disbelief.
As Clem drew closer, she saw that Miss Farano”s usually immaculate hair had come undone, tumbling down her back in a wild, tangled mess. Her hands were covered in blood, and as she tried to push the strands out of her face, she only succeeded in smearing more of the dark liquid across her ghostly pale cheek and silver hair. She was screaming at the postman in a foreign language, her voice raw and filled with an unbearable pain.
Mr McKenzie stood up and moved to escort the postman away, and that”s when Clem saw it - the small, bloody bundle of fur lying motionless behind one of the van”s tires. She recognized Abdul”s long, graceful tail, but the rest of his body was a mangled, unrecognizable horror. Clem”s heart shattered into a million pieces as she realized that the beloved cat was gone forever.
As Miss Farano once again tried to cradle Abdul”s broken body, Clem and the older lady moved in unison. Clem stepped towards her, wanting to offer comfort, but Miss Farano”s eyes fell upon Mr McKenzie”s guns lying on the ground. In a fit of rage and despair, she snatched one of the weapons and waved it at the postman, screaming at him to leave.
Both men turned to flee as Miss Farano continued to shout, pointing the gun skyward and pulling the trigger. The deafening blast echoed through the air, causing Clem to cover her ears in shock. She had never heard a gunshot before, and the sound was more terrifying than she could have ever imagined.
As the postman sped off in his van, Mr McKenzie approached Miss Farano slowly, his hands raised in a gesture of peace. She handed him the gun and collapsed to her knees, wailing inconsolably over the mangled remains of her beloved pet. Mr McKenzie turned to Clem, who stood frozen in the entrance, her eyes wide with shock. ”Miss, can you help?” he asked, his voice strained with emotion.
Clem watched as Miss Farano rocked Abdul”s lifeless body against her chest, her anguished cries piercing the air. The old lady was covered in blood, her grief raw and all-consuming. It was a side of her that Clem had never seen before, and it shook her to her core.
”Miss, the rest of the staff will be here soon...” Mr McKenzie warned, his words trailing off as he looked at Clem imploringly.
Clem hesitated, torn between her usual disdain for the older woman and the overwhelming empathy she felt in the face of such profound grief. She didn’t particularly like Miss Farano, finding her cold and unapproachable, but seeing her now, so utterly broken and vulnerable, stirred something deep within Clem”s heart.
She knew that Miss Farano would hate for the rest of the staff to see her like this, and despite their differences, Clem felt compelled to protect the woman”s dignity. With a heavy heart, she steeled herself for what she was about to do.
”Miss Farano,” she called out, her voice as cold and sharp as a glacier. It was a tone her mother had used on occasion when dealing with her hysterical daughters. ”What is the meaning of this spectacle? Pull yourself together. Mr McKenzie, please arrange a suitable site for Abdul to be buried. Make sure he has a good view and a warm spot to rest himself.”
The words nearly stuck in Clem”s throat as she realized how much she would miss the little cat. He had been such a bright spot in their lives, always ready with a playful swat or a contented purr. The thought of never seeing him again was almost too much to bear.
”Miss Farano, you are excused from all duties today. That will be all,” Clem finished, her voice wavering slightly as she fought back tears.
Miss Farano”s frame seemed to crumple as she stood up, leaving Abdul”s body on the gravel. Her hair was a tangled mess, her eyes red and unfocused. As the older woman passed her, Clem reached out and squeezed her hand gently, a gesture that felt foreign and awkward, but somehow necessary in the face of such shared sorrow. Miss Farano paused, squeezing back, and in that brief moment, Clem saw a flicker of humanity in the woman she had always considered a dried-out husk.
As Miss Farano made her way towards the staircase, Clem turned back to Mr McKenzie, wiping the tears from her eyes. She could see that he, too, had shed a tear for the loss of their feline friend. The weight of her actions settled heavily on her shoulders, and she wondered if she had done the right thing.
For the first time, Clem found herself questioning her preconceived notions about Miss Farano. Perhaps there was more to the older woman than she had ever bothered to see, a depth of emotion hidden beneath the stern exterior. As they stood in silence, mourning the passing of a beloved companion, Clem felt a glimmer of understanding and a newfound respect for the enigmatic housekeeper.
Clem returned to Mr McKenzie, wiping the tears from her eyes and she could see that he too had shed a tear.
‘What happened?’
‘He’s always in a rush that one. I’ve warned him to be careful, but he speeds in and out. Bloody idiot.’
‘He should be fired!’ said Clem in outrage.
‘He might at that, but Miss Farano pointing a gun at him won’t have helped none. Now go and grab me a sack from the shed over there and we’ll take care of wee Abdul. I know just the spot. It’s where all the castle pets have been buried over the years. He’ll be in good company.’
Clem ran over to the sheds to get a sack, but as she came back, she saw in dismay that a police car was heading down the drive.
‘Oh, right enough then,’ said the estate manager. ‘Let me handle this, miss, if you will?’
Clem stood beside him. ‘Miss Farano is not going to get in trouble for this.’ It was a statement not a question, and Iain looked down at her and nodded.
They stood side by side, waiting for the policeman to pull up alongside them. Abdul’s little body was wrapped in the sack and being held by Iain. By his feet was a brace of rabbits and the shotgun in a cocked position.
‘Morning, Iain.’
‘Morning, Ben. This here’s Lady Clementine de Foix.’
‘Ah, morning, ma’am.’ The policeman paused and looked at the two of them. She didn’t look much like a lady, standing there in her pyjamas and covered in blood, but then who knew what the upper classes got up to? He knew where he was with Iain though.
‘Now then, Iain, I’ve just received a complaint of a gun being fired at a postman. Any truth in that?’
‘None,’ said Iain calmly and then said no more.
PC McBride sighed; he knew this was going to be tricky the minute the report came through to him.
‘The way I heard it, some mad old biddy took a gun and shot at him and he ran away “feared for his life”. He says he may have hit something as he tried to escape.’
‘Bollocks!’ snapped Clem. ‘He—’
‘No, Ben. That’s not what happened.’
Ben watched as the young lass glowered, desperate to speak.
‘Did you have the gun, ma’am? Maybe picked it up by accident and it went off?’
‘Yes I—’
‘No, Ben. That didn’t happen either,’ said Iain, once again cutting Clem off.
‘Iain, has that gun been fired recently?’
‘Yes, as you can see I’ve been out clearing rabbits this morning.’
‘Right enough. Right enough.’ Ben rocked on his feet, trying to think of how to proceed.
‘Maybe, maybe postie was confused,’ said Iain thoughtfully.
‘How’s that then?’ asked Ben, waiting to hear how the story would unfold and if it was a story he’d be able to accept.
‘Well, he says he hit something as he was leaving, but that’s not quite right. He hit our cat here as he arrived. Killed the wee chap outright. I had come back from the fields, having shot the rabbits, and maybe postie got confused in his remorse and all that?’
Ben nodded. He could probably work with that.
‘By the way,’ continued Iain, ‘how are the Grants doing after postie hit their dog? Heard he had to be put down.’
‘That’s right enough.’
‘And did the post office pay the McDougalls for the lamb he killed? Was that this season or last season?’
‘Last season.’
‘But Iain,’ interrupted Clem, ‘that’s appalling. He should be fired immediately.’
Both men looked at her and nodded.
‘Seriously, what if he hit a child? My nephews could have been out here. Sounds like they’d be safer playing on the London streets than up here in the highlands with some lunatic driver. Why is he still on the road!’
‘Well now, ma’am, I can’t help but agree with you, but I came out here to follow up a report of dangerous use of a weapon.’
‘Oh right, well, as Mr McKenzie says, that didn’t happen.’
‘Did it not?’
‘No!’
‘Should I put in a report about the cat?’ asked Clem, desperate to get some justice. ‘The postman shouldn’t be allowed to drive around here.’
‘I wouldn’t if I were you, ma’am. If you do that, we might have to look at the gun allegation again. A wee bit closer if you understand me?’
Clem looked crestfallen and her eyes welled up with angry tears. ‘But it’s not right!’
‘No, ma’am, it’s not right but I don’t think he’ll be working up here much longer. Sometimes some people just aren’t suited to a place. Other times they fit in like it’s in their blood.’
As he watched her think on his words he turned to Iain. He hated to do this, but it seemed like the best solution.
‘Now, Iain, I will have to give you a formal caution about discharging your gun close to people who may be unaware that you were nearby, but in no way endangering them. Is that acceptable?’
‘It is.’
‘Very well. Let’s leave it at that and I’ll explain all the misunderstandings to my super and we’ll see where we go from there. Now, I am off to see a man about a tax disc.’
As he got to the car, he turned around and watched as the two of them stood staunchly side by side.
‘Send my respects to Miss Farano; Abdul was a dear wee creature.’ And he got into the car and drove away.
‘Iain, are you in a lot of trouble?’
‘No. It’s embarrassing right enough, and I’ll probably have to go on some course on how to use a gun, but it won’t be a hardship. Mind you, let’s not mention it to Miss Farano. She might go after postie in earnest.’
Clem let out a shaky laugh and then looked worried.
‘No, miss, a laugh is a good thing, even on a sad day. And I’m sorry I kept cutting you off. Ben’s a good man, but he can only deal with what he’s told and I was worried you might—’
‘Put my foot in it? You’re right, I would have. I’d have been defending Otto whilst throwing her to the wolves.’
‘Come on then, hen, let’s go sort out Abdul.’
The pair of them began to head off around the side of the castle. ‘Although I don’t reckon I’ve ever heard Ben described as a wolf before. I’ll have to tell him that sometime, when I can.’
He picked up the shovel and Clem carried Abdul’s warm body, as they made their way to a sunny spot near an old apple tree.