Chapter Twenty Five #2
The station was quiet, but there was a car waiting, and the driver asked if I was for Skrinkle Castle.
I realised I hadn’t a clue if that was the name, as I’d never even thought to check the address in my haste to get to Wales.
But, I felt fairly certain it must be right, there surely couldn’t be too many castles in the area expecting visitors, and when my suitcase was picked up and stowed away in the boot before I could answer, I could only trust that I was not about to be kidnapped.
The driver was a dour little man who didn’t respond with more than yes or no answers, so I soon gave up trying to have a conversation, and looked out of the window into the inky night.
We headed off through narrow lanes where high hedges pressed on either side.
It was so dark I couldn’t be sure of where we were, and even though I knew we must be near the coast, there wasn’t any sign of it.
Soon we were passing through a silent village where the scattered cottages crouched together in darkness and there wasn’t a light to be seen.
The car began to accelerate along a winding road that was bordered on one side by a rising wall, where I could see nothing beyond it but a vast expanse of darkness, though I could finally hear the sound of the sea and waves crashing on the shore below.
I was beginning to feel just a little bit afraid.
It was so dark, so quiet and so late. If I’d found we were the only people alive in the whole area I shouldn’t have been surprised.
‘Is the castle very far from here?’ I asked.
The road twisted in front, the same wall on one side and huge rocks on the other, the incline becoming so steep I was sure we’d slide backwards down the hill if the driver lost concentration.
My companion shifted in his seat and grunted, ‘No.’
And then we stopped abruptly by the side of the wall, and my silent friend got out.
‘He’s going to murder me, after all,’ I said to myself, as the driver got out and took my case out of the boot, coming back with a torch, which he brandished at me.
He swore quietly, as it flickered on and off, blinding me in the process.
The batteries must be fading, I decided, but I got out of the car and saw a set of steps descending between the rocks.
He was clearly about to murder me, out there in the howling wind and rain, and toss my body into the sea, I thought.
He saw my hesitation, and murmured, ‘Skrinkle’s this way,’ in a very gruff, murderer-like way, but I followed him anyway, wondering with each step whether it was a good idea.
Castles were always at the top of hills, I thought, as we walked down at least twenty narrow steps, but just as I’d begun to despair, the steps took a turn, and ascended very steeply.
They were narrower than ever; very slippery with rain, and as the flashlight bounced off the stones hewn into the rock in a never-ending procession, I thought once more how I should devote more time to physical exercise.
I wished I’d bought a better coat as it clung damply to the backs of my knees, the rain whipping my hair into my eyes, but it was the only one I had.
At last we stopped by a cast-iron gate, and though I couldn’t make out more than one narrow slit of light up above us, I could see a large, tower-like construction rising over our heads, complete with crenellations and a flag, just visible in the darkness, flapping in the angry wind.
I began to feel a little better as the light came nearer, and as we followed the steps round I could see a gatehouse coming into view.
I could feel wet grass tickling my ankles, and smell the scent of spring flowers, against the salty smell of the sea.
The walls were covered with trailing rambling roses, yet to flower, and the torchlight trembled over nodding bluebells, and flickered up over boughs covered in white blossom, just visible over the wall.
And then we found ourselves at the foot of some wide stone steps, worn in the middle by the centuries of hundreds of feet passing over them, and a wooden door in the gatehouse was open, alive with a blaze of light from a lantern, swinging overhead.
I’d arrived, and when I stepped through the door, Harry was running across the quadrangle to greet me, flashlight in hand, along with an enormous Newfoundland dog who almost bundled me to the ground in his excitement.
‘Meet Randolph, our loyal and loving, but quite useless guard dog,’ he said, trying to rescue me from the dog that was licking me all over. ‘I can’t believe you’re actually here.’
Harry picked me up in his arms, swinging me round until I felt my feet whirling off the ground. I buried my face in his thick jumper and hugged him to make sure he was real. I couldn’t believe it either, and the thought of spending another week with Harry in a castle by the sea was utterly surreal.
‘I hope your journey wasn’t too awful,’ he said, putting me down at last, and picking up my case.
‘No, I enjoyed every second. Thank you so much for arranging everything so beautifully, and for my lovely dinner. I’ve never sat in First Class before, I could get used to it.’
‘I thought you might not think of eating in the rush to get away. I don’t think there’s anything quite as good as having one’s dinner on a train as the world speeds by.’
‘I loved it, Harry, and I’m so excited to be here.’
‘Well, I can’t take any credit for that. Even though he’s still very ill, my uncle wanted to make sure you knew you were very welcome. He’d heard all about you at Christmas, and he hadn’t forgotten, you see.’
‘He sounds very kind.’
‘Geraint Tate has his moments, but he’s never been an easy man to live with, though it can’t be much fun being constantly ill.’
‘I hope I shall be able to help you nurse him.’
‘We’ll see … come along and meet Elsa, she’s dying to see you and show you to your room. Unfortunately, there’s been a power cut, so it’s candles and torchlight this evening. It happens occasionally, and there’s nothing we can do except wait for it to be fixed.’
‘How marvellously gothic.’
‘I had a feeling you might enjoy it … at least once while you’re here.
It can be very tedious, though I know your imagination will conjure up all sorts of horrors before we’ve found your chamber in the spookiest part of the castle.
There’s also an old manservant I need to tell you about who has a habit of walking the battlements at night, not to mention the Grey Lady, and the White Knight, both headless, of course. ’
I couldn’t decide if Harry was teasing or not at first, and when he shone the torch under his chin to make his features appear as ghoulish as possible, I almost screamed.
But, I couldn’t be frightened for long. As we crossed the threshold into the great hall, I could see in the flickering lamplight and candlelight that here in the main quarters was a modern space with up to date furniture, with no sign of any ancient treasures or tapestries such as I’d imagined.
Still, despite the lack of antiquities seen so far, happiness coursed through my being.
What more could I wish for? A gothic castle, my darling Harry and my dear friend Elsa could only prove to be a winning combination for a fun filled time.