Chapter 39
Andrew was waiting by the Land Rover as she came out and opened a door for her.
They drove away.
“So does your father know you’ve taken a day off?”
“It’s Saturday. I normally get weekends off. Besides, my father had to go across to the mainland today. What he doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” He grinned. Then he asked, “So you said you’re doing the research for another writer?”
“That’s correct.”
“And it’s a crime novel but it includes what happened to my family?”
“It seems to.” Emma was wary now. “I suspect this writer read about the story when they browsed in the newspaper archives and thought it could be adapted to a good novel.”
“So who is this writer?” he asked. “Someone famous? Would I know him or her?”
“I can’t tell you. I’m bound to secrecy.”
“How intriguing. So it probably is somebody famous. I’m always amazed at the number of famous people who decide to write a book, or think they can write a book. So she’s hired you to ghostwrite for her?”
“I don’t think I mentioned it was a woman.” Emma felt quite uncomfortable now.
“It’s usually women who decide to tackle crime novels, isn’t it?” he said. “So did you telephone her to report your encounter with my father? What did she say? Are you ordered home?”
“I’m still waiting to hear,” Emma replied.
“And did you manage to uncover any of my family’s deep, dark secrets? I can’t imagine what made my father so upset. And I’m dying to learn.” His tone sounded light but she sensed he was determined to find out.
“No deep, dark secrets at all. That’s what’s so strange,” Emma said.
“Nothing more than what was in the newspaper—and that was just a tragic love story. A young girl trying to run off with the man she had fallen in love with and they drown. I can understand that your grandfather had felt his sister’s death so much at the time, but why now? ”
“He’s been dwelling on the past a lot lately,” Andrew said. “Going over things he did and things he should have done. Almost as if he’s punishing himself. It’s sad in a way. I suppose his brain is getting scrambled.”
“Well, I’m sorry I upset him,” Emma said.
“You didn’t mean to. Relax. Let’s enjoy the day.”
“So how far away are these Fairy Pools?” she asked, anxious to change the subject as they left the village and headed north along the shore.
“A good way,” he said. “Over on the other side of the island, amongst the Cuillin. Those are the mountains, you know.”
“Yes. Jock did point them out to me.”
After they had reached the settlement of Broadford they headed west and inland, the mountains coming ever closer. The road narrowed to a single lane, but they had passed no other vehicles. The only sign of life was some shaggy red cows with huge outwardly turned horns.
“Oh, look at those cows!” Emma exclaimed. “Aren’t they adorable?”
“Highland cattle,” he said. “Adorable is not the word I’d use. But they are native to here and weather the winters well. My father runs them on our land.”
Emma remembered the crofters being turned out so that the laird could run cattle but said nothing.
The terrain became harsher, windswept grass leading up to bare rock, and ahead of them the sheer granite faces of craggy mountains, one behind the other.
At last Andrew turned off the paved road and bumped along a track.
A sign announced the Fairy Pools. All Emma could see was grassy hillside rising to a rocky summit.
As they got out of the car she noticed a small stream beside the road, bouncing over pebbles as it ran downhill.
“Oh, that’s annoying,” Andrew said. “There are other people here. I like it to myself.”
Emma observed that there were two other cars, but no sign of their passengers.
“We have to walk a wee bit,” Andrew said. “Not too far.”
They started up a trail and Emma heard the sound of rushing water. That little stream had cut itself a small gorge with a waterfall cascading into a deep, clear pool.
“Oh, it’s lovely,” she said.
He nodded. “The pools go on like this, one above the other, all the way up the hillside,” he said. “People come to swim in them. The water is supposed to give you magic powers. Would you like to try it?”
“I don’t have my cozzie.” She gave him a disapproving smile. “And besides, it must be cold.”
“It’s absolutely bloody freezing.” He laughed. “But people still do it. For the magic powers, you know. And all sorts of creatures come to swim in the pools. Even the seals come up from the ocean, so they say, but then they are shape-shifters—kelpies, you know.”
“Shape-shifters!” She smiled.
“Hey, here on Skye we take such things seriously.”
“I hardly think that seals can make their way up from the beaches.” She was still smiling.
“You’d be surprised what can happen on Skye.
It is a place of magic, you know. Come on.
The pools get better as we go up.” And he took her hand as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
“It’s a shame . . . that you have to go,” he said, looking at her, almost tenderly. “I think that you and I . . .”
“I’m probably going back to Australia,” she said. “I’m missing the sunshine.”
“It’s sunny here today,” he pointed out.
“Yes, but not warm and sunny. I miss being warm. Besides, I’m not sure that Britain is the right place for me.”
“And Australia is?”
“I’m not sure of that, either. The truth is I’m not sure where I belong any more.”
He didn’t answer. She had half hoped that he’d ask her to stay on in Skye or promise to come down to London to visit her, but he didn’t.
They followed the stream uphill, as one pool, one waterfall appeared after another.
The water sparkled in bright sunlight. It truly was magical, and Andrew’s hand in hers felt somehow right.
“Be glad you’re here now and not in the summer,” he said. “We’d have been eaten alive by midges in the summer months.”
They looked up as a pair of hikers, earnest types with rucksacks, came up the trail behind them.
“Time to go and see that hotel,” Andrew said.
They turned and made their way down again to where they had left the Land Rover.
“Now I can tell Jock I have seen the Fairy Pools,” she said, wondering if and when she’d have a chance to see Jock again and how she would manage to pay him.
They drove on, towards the western shore. The mountains now rose all around them, dark, rugged and stark as the road zigzagged upward. The coastline came into view far below, a narrow finger of bright water surrounded by mountains, and beyond it the open sea.
“There’s the hotel where we’ll eat,” Andrew said. “See, down there on the shore.”
Emma picked out the lone white building, perched on the shoreline and surrounded by trees. “It seems a strange place to build a hotel. So remote. Who’d come to stay there?” she asked.
“Climbers, and ramblers. And those who want to get away from it all,” he said.
“I’m told it’s quite posh.” He glanced at his watch.
“We’re still a bit early for lunch and you said you’d had breakfast late, so why don’t I show you my favourite view on the island.
It will be spectacular on a clear day like this. ”
“All right,” she said. She picked up on his excitement.
He really was enjoying sharing his home with her, which she found endearing.
After a while he turned onto a rocky track and the Land Rover lurched forward uphill until they arrived at the foot of a crag.
Andrew parked on the grass beside the track.
The mountain rose before them, cutting off the view to the west coast.
“Right.” Andrew took her hand again. “It’s up here. Not far at all.”
They started upward. Grass grew between rocks, making the going treacherous. Then the path, if it could be described as that, came around a buttress and Andrew stopped, pointing upward. “There,” he said. “See that ledge up there? That’s the best view on the island.”
Emma stared up at a narrow ledge that jutted out from the mountain face. High above a bird of prey was circling. “Up there? I’m not climbing up there, Andrew. I don’t climb. I haven’t got boots. I’m not equipped.”
“It’s really only a scramble,” he said. “Lots of people do it. It isn’t hard. Look—you come around the side here and just go up a series of rocky steps really.”
“No,” she said again. “I don’t want to try it. I’m scared of heights.”
He put a hand on her shoulder. “Oh, come on. You can’t miss this.
You can see out over all the islands. It’s breathtaking.
I’ll go first and help you up each of the rocks.
It really isn’t as hard as it looks. Just a giant staircase.
I’ve seen little kids go up there. In fact in summer there is a veritable queue. ”
Emma stood still, staring up at that ledge, telling herself not to be a coward. Surely she could make it up there, if only to please Andrew. Then over the gentle sigh of the wind there came a small voice in her head. “Dinnae do it, lassie.” It was Melrose’s voice. He was finally speaking to her.
Andrew’s hand was digging into her shoulder and trembling.
She realized with sudden clarity why she had hesitated and what his suppressed excitement was for.
Andrew was going to kill her. She tried to dismiss this thought as ridiculous nonsense, but it refused to go away.
Why else would he have shown up this morning, looked at her tenderly, taken her to the Fairy Pools, except to gain her confidence.
She could picture it as she stared up, trying to hide her horror.
They’d reach that ledge. He’d point something out to her.
She’d look outward and he’d give her a push.
There was nobody around to see. She’d plunge hundreds of feet to her death.
He’d rush to the nearest settlement, distraught.
Such a tragic accident. He’d say she lost her balance in a great gust of wind. That he couldn’t save her.