Chapter 13
THIRTEEN
The sun had not long set and the castle was floodlit against a red-streaked sky, as it usually was on such occasions, giving it a magical Disney-like appearance.
The field which abutted the castle gardens was also floodlit, with two large gas-fed barbecues already glowing alongside a mountain of mini-steaks, sausages and burgers.
Standing beside the barbecue, also glowing in the heat, was the cook, Mrs Jamieson, ably abetted by the housekeeper, Mrs Fraser, both in large, striped aprons.
Neither of them looked particularly thrilled to be there.
The earl, however, looked extremely cheerful in his kilt and polo-necked sweater, dashing about here and there and welcoming visitors.
There was already quite a crowd of the runners’ families and friends, including Morag and Murdo, of course, along with Finlay and Aisla McKinnon, and about twenty others, most of whom Ally knew by sight.
Excitement was in the air as everyone waited for the first runner to appear.
‘Well,’ said Morag, by way of greeting, ‘at least that Armstrong man’s no goin’ to come first this time! I’m expectin’ our Micky to win this one.’
Ally had no special fondness for Micky but knew it would improve Morag’s mood in the morning if he did win. She discovered that Finlay’s younger son, Fergus, was also running, as Ross had thought, along with Forby and Tom, the much-fancied young ghillie.
It was hardly a marathon, but nevertheless it did take some stamina to run ten or eleven miles and, for the most part, over rough, uneven terrain.
Alongside the barbecue was a huge bin full of cans of beer for the thirsty.
On a side table, there were also soft drinks and bottles of wine.
Ross opted for a beer, while Ally poured herself a glass of red wine.
She hoped the event wouldn’t last too long, although, doubtless, it couldn’t finish until the last contestant staggered in.
Wendy, still limping, had appeared at Ally’s side. ‘I’d have thought that Greg would be here by now,’ she said, looking worried. ‘I thought he’d be here half an hour ago.’
‘He probably had to keep side-stepping to let the runners go by,’ Ally pointed out.
‘I expect you’re right,’ Wendy said, but she looked doubtful. ‘I’ve tried phoning him, but there’s no reply.’
They stood sipping their drinks for about ten minutes before the first runner came stumbling in, gasping and grinning.
It was Forby McKinnon!
There was much applause and cheering, with Finlay and Aisla whooping with delight as Forby crashed down on the grass, grabbing a much-needed proffered can of beer.
‘Well, well,’ said Morag, her lips tight. ‘There’s a surprise!’
Murdo shook his head. ‘Thae lads didn’t have enough time to prepare for this, that’s the trouble.’
Let’s hope Micky’s second, for all of our sakes, Ally thought.
But he wasn’t. The next runner to come staggering in was Ivan, the Craigmonie barman, and it was another good five minutes before Micky McConnachie made his appearance, coming in third, with brother Bobby just behind him, and then Tom, the ghillie.
There was much cheering and clapping, with Morag still muttering about how Forby McKinnon could possibly have beaten her two sons, when he didn’t do half the bodybuilding they did?
‘And,’ she said to Ally, ‘that Forby McKinnon’s goin’ home with a hundred quid in his bloody pocket, and he doesn’t need it!
Not like our lads do! Them McKinnons have got plenty of money! ’
Ally, fed up of her grumbling, moved away to where Forby was being congratulated by everyone, and young Tom was being congratulated by an excited, shiny-eyed Julie.
The final few runners had now arrived in various stages of dilapidation, but there was still no sign of Greg.
Wendy was asking each of the runners if they had seen her husband, but apparently no one had.
She came back to where Ally was standing.
‘No one’s seen Greg,’ she said, ‘and I’m getting really worried now.
He was only doing the last three or four miles of the route, so he should have been back long before this. ’
‘Surely he’d have been in touch if he had a problem?’ Ally said. ‘I mean, he would have had his phone with him, wouldn’t he?’
‘He never goes out without it,’ Wendy said. ‘But I’ve called him several times now and there’s still no reply.’
‘Perhaps he forgot it, or it needed charging?’ Ally suggested.
Ross had come back to join her and overheard the conversation. ‘I think it’s more likely there’s no signal up there,’ he said, pointing up at the moorland.
‘You mean he could have fallen over and injured himself and wouldn’t be able to contact anyone?’ Wendy’s voice had risen in panic.
‘I’ll tell you what I think, Wendy,’ Ally said. ‘I think he was hot, sweaty and exhausted, and he’s made his way back to the malthouse for a bath and a rest. He’ll probably appear here any minute now.’
Wendy seemed slightly relieved. ‘I hadn’t thought of that,’ she admitted. ‘Perhaps I should try phoning again.’
At this point, Hamish called for a hush and, with the help of a loudhailer, presented Forby with his winnings in an envelope, causing further cheers from his friends and family, if not the McConnachies.
An increasingly jittery Wendy reappeared, having been chatting to more of the runners.
‘No one’s seen him,’ she said. ‘I think I’ll go back down to the malthouse to see if Greg’s gone back there. I’m sure that’s probably what he’s done. And he didn’t seem all that keen on coming to the barbecue anyway.’
Ross put his hand on her arm. ‘Look, you’ve got a sore foot, so I’ll pop down and check that he’s there. He most likely is and has fallen asleep.’
‘Isn’t he a gentleman!’ Wendy said admiringly as Ross set off.
‘He is,’ Ally agreed, watching Julie, who was now chatting animatedly to Tom, who appeared to be enjoying the attention. Janey was standing to one side looking decidedly sulky. Patti didn’t appear to have noticed and was trying to pacify a still-agitated Wendy.
Ally filled up her glass again and watched the deserving runners all standing in line at the barbecue while the two ladies loaded up their plates.
They studiously avoided all the salads which Mrs Jamieson had concocted, and which were set out on a side table.
The barbecue was for everyone, but Ally decided she’d wait until Ross got back.
And she’d definitely be attacking those delicious-looking salads.
Ross returned a while later, looking worried. ‘He’s not at the malthouse,’ he murmured to Ally as Wendy approached.
‘Is he there?’ Wendy asked anxiously.
Ross shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, Wendy. I think we’re going to have to go look for him.’
Wendy dissolved into tears. ‘I knew something was wrong,’ she wept.
‘I’ll have a word with Hamish,’ Ross said, heading towards the barbecue.
Ally saw the two of them talking, with glances over at Wendy. When he came back, Ross said, ‘The earl is going to get Angus to drive the Land Rover on the exact route that Greg was planning to take, and I suggest that you go with him and keep a look-out all around.’
Wendy nodded, blew her nose and, accompanied by Ross, walked over to where Hamish was standing.
‘Where the hell has he got to?’ Patti murmured to Ally. ‘How can he just disappear?’
‘I’m sure they’ll find him,’ Ally said, hoping she sounded more confident than she felt.
She had a bad feeling about all of this.
Angus, looking less than delighted, had been unearthed from his cottage, where he’d been dozing gently while watching the local news on TV.
He glowered at Wendy as he opened the passenger door of the Land Rover for her and climbed into the driving seat.
They then set off rather jerkily, along the route just completed by the runners, and leaving behind a somewhat muted celebration.
Everyone was looking at everyone else and shrugging.
Who was this guy who was missing? Since all the publicity had been centred on Archie Armstrong’s demise, few people were aware that he had a brother-in-law travelling with him.
There was tension in the air, and some of the runners, along with their families and friends, were beginning to slope away.
It was as if most of the joy had been syphoned out of the event.
Nevertheless, many of the runners were still eating heartily.
The little group from the malthouse waited anxiously for the Land Rover to return, and it was about another fifteen minutes before it did. A distraught Wendy climbed out of the passenger door, and a grim-faced Angus reversed the Land Rover back up to where it was normally parked.
‘No sign!’ Wendy wept. ‘No sign at all! Where in God’s name is he?’
To make matters worse, it was now properly dark. Ally looked at Ross, who was gazing at his watch.
‘I suggest we go back to the malthouse,’ he said, ‘and we’ll set off with torches, and the dogs, and check the whole route again.’
Wendy nodded dumbly, and Ally, feeling sorry for her, gave her a hug. ‘Never fear, Wendy,’ she said, ‘we will find him.’
Janey had returned and was talking to her mother.
‘Oh my God!’ exclaimed Patti. ‘Julie’s necking with that wretched boy somewhere!’
Ally smiled to herself. She’d not heard the word ‘necking’ used in a long time. Well, the girl was seventeen, so it wasn’t exactly unusual and, from what Ally had heard, Patti had been no saint in her youth either.
‘Where the hell have they gone?’ Patti was now in full panic mode. She turned to Janey. ‘Where did you see them last?’
Janey shrugged and muttered something.
‘Well,’ said Patti, ‘I’m staying right here until I find her! Nobody’s going to play fast and loose with my daughter! And you’re staying right here with me until we find her, Janey!’
‘We have to go,’ Ross said to her. ‘We’ll see you later.’
As the sad little group made their way back to the malthouse, Ross said, ‘I’m sorry, perhaps we should have had something to eat before we left, but…’
‘I couldn’t eat a thing,’ Wendy said.
‘I’ll make us all something later back at the malthouse when we catch up with Greg,’ said Ally.
Wendy was continuing to call him on her phone, but there was no response.
If he’d pulled a muscle and fallen by the roadside, Ally reckoned, he would still have to be there somewhere.
She didn’t imagine Angus had been very thorough at searching on his side of the vehicle, and Wendy was in such a state that she could well have missed a clue from the passenger seat.
‘Perhaps he did forget to charge the battery before he went out,’ Wendy said, her voice shaking, ‘and if he had no power, he’d have no torch either. How on earth will we ever find him?’
‘We will,’ Ross said firmly as they got back home. ‘We’ll need a few minutes, and then we’ll set off and do a thorough search.’ He looked at Wendy. ‘Are you fit enough to walk back up there? You don’t have to come, you know.’
‘It still really hurts, but I must come! I’d never forgive myself if he was lying injured somewhere and I wasn’t there…’ Her voice crumbled. ‘I’ll just get another sweater.’
‘I think we should prepare ourselves for a long walk in the dark,’ Ross murmured to Ally as Wendy made her way upstairs.
‘The silly fool’s got himself lost somewhere that has no phone signal, or else – like she said – he didn’t charge it up before he left.
Maybe he’s tripped or something? Who knows? ’
Ross went out to search in his car for the powerful torch which he took with him everywhere – a hangover from his days as a vet delivering lambs at midnight. Ally fetched her warm coat.
‘We’re taking the dogs, aren’t we?’ Ally asked as Ross came in with the torch. She noticed how excited both animals had become when they saw coats being produced.
‘Definitely,’ Ross said. ‘They could be invaluable and will probably find him before we do.’
Wendy had reappeared and, after a few minutes, they all set off on the well-trodden path towards Loch Soular. It had suddenly become pitch-dark, the moon hidden behind some heavy clouds, and so they were relying on Ross’s torch to see the way.
‘Give me an arm each, girls!’ Ross said cheerfully as he shone the torch ahead. ‘Can’t have either of you tripping over!’
Ally did not like walking in the dark at the best of times and, to be sure, this was not the best of times.
Both she and Wendy stumbled a little as they made their way carefully along the rough path.
At least the heather had been flattened over time, mainly due to Ally’s walks, and again this evening by the runners.
After fifteen minutes, the clouds rolled back, and the moon appeared just as they neared the loch, producing a silver glow on the surface of the water. It was breathtakingly beautiful.
Ally had never seen this lovely wee loch by moonlight before, and she was enchanted.
‘I think he was going to cut across over there somewhere…’ Wendy pointed vaguely to the right.
‘Then there must be a marker there,’ Ross said. ‘Didn’t you say something about flags?’
‘Oh yes,’ Wendy said. ‘Red flags. That’s how he knew where to go.’ She pointed again to the right. ‘It’s disorientating in the dark.’
Ross swivelled his torch around as they veered in that direction, the dogs bounding ahead.
It was Ally who spotted it. ‘Look! Over there!’ She walked ahead, trying not to stumble. Ross was now pointing the torch towards Ally, and they all saw the little red flag anchored into the ground and the path alongside.
‘That’s it!’ Wendy exclaimed excitedly.
‘OK,’ Ross said, ‘this is the race route, but are you sure this was the way he was heading?’
‘I don’t know,’ Wendy said, her face falling. ‘Greg was in charge of the map, and when I left to go back to the malthouse…’ Her voice broke.
‘Let’s keep going then,’ Ross said quickly.
At this point, Wendy began to call out, ‘Greg! Greg!’ But there was total silence as they shuffled on.
Ally noticed that the dogs appeared to be getting excited and sniffing everything more than usual. They’d covered about a hundred yards when both dogs, who’d been running ahead, began to bark excitedly.
‘Something or someone’s around,’ Ross said quietly as they carried on walking more slowly, with Wendy continuing to call out, ‘Greg! Greg! We’re here!’
Ross shone the torch around, concentrating on the two barking dogs and said, ‘Stay here!’ to the two women before walking forward to where the dogs were and where there was a large rock embedded in the ground.
In the moonlight, Ally could see Ross standing stock-still for a moment before bending down. ‘Oh my God!’ he said.
Ally and Wendy rushed across to where he was standing, then stood, rooted to the spot.
Lying on his back, clearly felled by a blow to the head, was Greg Watson.