The Family at Farrshore Read online

  THE FAMILY AT FARRSHORE

  Kate Blackadder

  Copyright © 2016 by Kate Blackadder

  The right of Kate Blackadder to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this publication can be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without the prior permission in writing

  from Kate Blackadder

  This story is a work of fiction.

  Cover design by Mark Blackadder.

  The Family at Farrshore was first published in serial form

  in The People’s Friend, 2011.

  It is also available in large-print from libraries.

  Contents

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER 1

  Cathryn leaned forward, her hands tightened on the steering wheel. She could hardly see through the windscreen although the wipers were working overtime.

  It had been fine in Lancaster when she left just after lunch, anxious to put the miles between herself and Daniel, but the weather had got steadily worse and the road more narrow. She’d hoped to get to Farrshore by six but the dashboard clock told her it was almost eight when all of a sudden a figure loomed up at the side of the road, an arm held out.

  At home she wouldn’t dream of stopping for a stranger, but the May evening was still light and she couldn’t leave someone standing in all this rain. It might be hours before another car passed.

  As she came nearer she could see that it was a man, tall and fair-haired. He bent down and wiped the window with his hand and smiled. Just for a moment she was reminded of Daniel and her heart jumped.

  She pressed the button to open the window a fraction and leaned over to hear him.

  ‘ … Farrshore. Could you give me a lift? …cell phone signal …’

  Was he American?

  She opened the door, praying that she wouldn’t regret it. He folded himself into the passenger seat and held out his hand.

  ‘Magnus Macaskill.’

  ‘Cathryn Fenton. Goodness, you’re wet!’

  ‘I’m soaked! I’ve never seen such rain. Thank you so much for stopping.’

  He was struggling out of a thick jumper as he spoke.

  Cathryn leant away to avoid getting jabbed by his elbow. ‘Did you say you wanted to get to Farrshore? Do you know how much further it is? How long will it take?’

  He grinned at her. ‘At the speed you’re doing … probably until tomorrow morning.’

  ‘We should be in an ark, not a car. And I’ve never been on this road before. Never been north of Carlisle, in fact,’ Cathryn said, rather indignantly.

  ‘Well, welcome to Scotland – and its weather. What takes you here?’

  She swivelled her head to look at him. He was squeezing water out of his jumper. His long legs, ending in muddy walking boots, were pulled into an uncomfortable position in her small car.

  ‘I’m an archaeologist. I’m joining a team at Farrshore.’ Cathryn smiled to herself at the thought of it. ‘There’s been a discovery there. I can’t say any more.’

  ‘Don’t worry. My lips are sealed. Your secrets about Roman hoards are safe with me.’

  ‘It’s not Roman …’ she started to say but Magnus interrupted.

  ‘I’m teasing. Don’t think they got as far north as this, did they?’

  Cathryn was too tired to give a history lesson. ‘Do you live in Farrshore yourself?’ she asked.

  ‘I’ve been staying there the last few days.’

  ‘But what were you doing wandering about in the rain?’

  He laughed. ‘I started off trying to find a signal on my cell phone. I kept walking – and walking – and then it started to rain – and rain – and then my fairy godmother turned up in her pumpkin coach to rescue me.’

  Cathryn had tried to get a signal herself to tell her future landlady that she was running late.

  She stole another glance at her passenger.

  His eyes were shut. Beads of rain trembled on his hair and on the ends of his lashes.

  Without opening his eyes, he said: ‘Sorry, warm cars always make me sleepy.’

  Well, whoever he was and whatever he was doing in Farrshore was none of her business. She was on her way to a fantastic new dig. She thrilled at the thought of being involved in what was possibly going to be a major find.

  Plus four months away, to a place almost as far north as you could go on the British mainland, was just what she wanted, just what she needed to avoid bumping into Daniel and his new girlfriend.

  At last they came to a fork in the road and two signs – ‘Farrshore Lodge’ pointing right and ‘Farrshore 1 mile’ up to the left.

  With a sigh of relief Cathryn took a hand off the steering wheel and gently shook Magnus’s arm. ‘We’re nearly there.’ There was no response.

  Just when she thought the road couldn’t get any steeper she turned a corner and saw the lights from two straggly rows of cottages – welcome proof that she and her passenger were not the only people left alive on the planet.

  Stopping the car, she nudged Magnus again. He moved, but only to re-contort himself into another position.

  She gave up, retrieved her handbag from beside his muddy boots and got out of the car.

  Coastguard Cottage. That was where she was going to be staying according to the email she had received from Professor Gillander’s secretary. With a Mrs MacLeod. The nearest cottage didn’t seem to have a name but she decided to ring the bell anyway.

  She was hungry and also in urgent need of what her American colleagues called a ‘comfort stop’.

  Maybe she had expected, hoped, to see a large motherly figure, wielding a teapot and a warm welcome but the woman who stood there wasn’t much older than herself, with a long auburn plait over one shoulder.

  ‘Mrs MacLeod?’ Cathryn asked.

  ‘I am. Are you Miss Fenton? But it’s not me, it’s Dolly MacLeod you’ll be wanting, up across the road there,’ she said, pointing.

  Cathryn thanked her and turned away.

  Back on the road, she saw that her passenger was taking her luggage from the back seat of her car.

  ‘Hey!’ She ran forward.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand with this,’ said Magnus. ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘Just across here, thank you,’ said Cathryn, feeling flustered.

  ‘Dolly’s?’ He gave a shout of laughter. ‘Well, what do you know? That’s where I’m staying.’

  Ten minutes later Cathryn was sitting at the table in a comfortable kitchen being served venison casserole by the landlady of her dreams. She had been shown into a pretty little bedroom upstairs, pointed toward the bathroom and told to come down when she was ready.

  ‘I’m Dolly, mind,’ she was told, ‘not “Mrs MacLeod”. That was my daughter-in-law, Sara, you met. And you’ll meet my husband in the morning. He went to bed early tonight.’

  In a motherly fashion Dolly had exclaimed over Magnus’s wet clothes and told him to get changed.

  ‘I was beginning to think we’d have to send out a search party for you,’ Dolly said, retrieving a kitten from climbing up the tablecloth.

  ‘Lucky for Magnus you were on the road earlier!’ she wen
t on. ‘He thinks Scotland is small compared with Canada but he’d have had a long walk back if you hadn’t stopped.’

  ‘Oh, is he Canadian?’ Cathryn was beginning to feel better with every mouthful.

  ‘A good Highland name he’s got though!’ said Dolly. ‘But I thought probably all you archaeologists knew each other? Oh, that reminds me, your professor came round this afternoon. He said could you be ready tomorrow at 8.30?’

  ‘Magnus is an archaeologist?’

  ‘Didn’t he tell you?’

  ‘No,’ said Cathryn. Why on earth not, she wondered. And why hadn’t she heard of him before?

  ‘Now, dear, you look as if you need a good night’s sleep, why don’t you just pop upstairs? I’ll knock on your door in the morning, I won’t let you miss your date with the professor.’

  Upstairs Magnus switched on his phone without much hope that it would work but to his relief it lit up. ‘Liz? Magnus. Sorry to ring you at home. Couldn’t get through before. It was pretty stormy. Everything all right?’

  ‘No problems, Magnus,’ his personal assistant replied. ‘I’ve set up a meeting for you on Thursday next week with that scriptwriter you wanted. And on the 30th Chuck Forbes is coming over to talk about sponsorship for the clan gathering film. But until then there’s nothing we can’t handle without you.’ Magnus could hear the smile in Liz’s voice as she went on, ‘Is it as beautiful up there as you thought it would be? Live up to your expectations?’

  Magnus laughed. He glanced out of his bedroom window where the rain had dwindled to little drops trickling down the glass. ‘I’ll tell you when it stops raining.’

  ‘But do you think it will all work out?’ Liz persisted.

  Magnus turned round and caught sight of himself in the mirror above the dressing table. Under the light from Dolly’s pink lampshade he could see that his hair was sticking up like horns. Two fiery blond horns. His shirt was untucked from his oldest jeans and he hadn’t bothered with shoes after putting his boots to dry by the radiator.

  He sighed happily. How good it felt not to be trussed up in a suit and tie.

  ‘It’s a dream come true.’ He leaned forward and smiled widely at himself. ‘The perfect combination of work and pleasure. Making a film up at the very north of Scotland. And it gives me a chance to …’

  He stopped.

  ‘What? Gives you a chance to …?’

  ‘I think my family may have come from round about here. Generations ago, you know. I’m hoping I’ll find out. Oh Liz, talking of family, I haven’t heard from my parents. Have they rung the office?’

  ‘No, I haven’t heard anything. You gave them Mrs MacLeod’s number, didn’t you?’

  ‘I’m sure I did. She’s probably lost it, knowing Mom.’

  ‘How was your mother the last time you spoke to her?’ asked Liz sympathetically.

  ‘Her back’s no better. She’s in traction on and off. And Tyler’s playing up I think. She won’t say a word against him but I can tell. It’s hard being a dad from a distance.’ He raised his eyebrows at his reflection. ‘Well, better go. Thanks for holding the fort, Liz.’

  ‘Speak to you soon, Magnus. Good night.’

  He shut down the phone and looked at his watch. Just after ten. The kettle would be on in the kitchen if he knew Dolly, and after only a couple of days he felt he did.

  ‘Your new lodger gone to bed?’ he asked his landlady as she poured him a mug of tea.

  ‘Tired out, poor girl. I’ll give her an alarm call in the morning. Shall I give you a shout as well?’

  ‘Yes, please. We’ll both be heading out at the same time I expect.’ He leaned forward and picked up a biscuit. ‘Would you say she was “a bonny lass”, Dolly?’

  ‘Very bonny. How would you say that in Canada?’

  ‘She’s a honey. Yes, that’s what I would say.’ He changed the subject. ‘How’s JD tonight?’ he enquired.

  ‘Grumpy.’ Dolly tried to turn her sigh into a laugh. ‘I thought he’d give Cathryn a poor welcome so I sent him off to bed. I hope he’ll be brighter in the morning.’

  Dolly put a plate of porridge in front of Cathryn.

  ‘Never asked what you wanted for breakfast, dear. Bacon and egg to follow. I can do you a boiled egg if you prefer. I’ve got my own hens. Did you sleep well? The gulls can be noisy at the back of the house.’

  Cathryn smiled at her landlady. ‘I usually just buy a cappuccino on my way into work,’ she confessed, ‘but that smells so good.’

  It tasted good too. She was surprised to find, after a dreamless sleep, that she felt completely refreshed. Maybe it was because the rain had cleared and there was a smell of sea air coming through the open kitchen window.

  The back of Coastguard Cottage sloped down to the cliffs; beyond that she could see a strip of white sand and beyond that the blue-grey sea where the waves were dancing all the way to – where? Canada? One of the Hebridean islands? She would have to check on the map.

  Footsteps sounded on the stairs.

  ‘That will be Magnus.’ Dolly went to open the door for him.

  Cathryn stopped in the act of putting her fork into a perfect circle of egg yolk as Magnus came forward holding out his hand.

  ‘Cathryn. Thanks again for last night. Look forward to working with you. Lancaster, you’re at, isn’t it?’

  She nodded. ‘And yourself?’

  Magnus had his back turned to Dolly. He made a little face at Cathryn, raising one eyebrow quirkily and mouthing ‘Later.’

  Later. Though she kept her face pleasant, inside she was puzzling over him.

  All that rubbish about Roman hoards when he was apparently an archaeologist himself!

  ‘Having a longer walk than I expected last night has given me a ferocious appetite. A plate of what Cathryn’s having will be just fine, Dolly,’ Magnus said. ‘Cathryn, I think you and I have landed on our feet here.’

  As he sat opposite her, Cathryn had an opportunity to see him closer up. In daylight she could see he really didn’t look like Daniel at all.

  Yes, they were both tall and fair but there the resemblance ended.

  Daniel’s face was aquiline, his eyes dark grey. He was never seen wearing anything other than a designer suit and crisply ironed shirt. He wore his hair swept back and sported a tiny silver stud in one ear.

  Evidently Magnus hadn’t had time to shave this morning. Or comb his hair, which was fair with red lights; two pieces actually stuck up like horns. He looked, Cathryn thought, like nothing more nor less than an illustration of a Viking in a child’s book. Though that actually was a myth. The Vikings never wore horned helmets, although it certainly made for dramatic pictures.

  ‘Granny, Granny. Eggs!’ A girl of about seven, with two short pigtails tied with bright green ribbon, burst into the kitchen.

  ‘Eggs, is it, darling? Well, we better go and get them. Listen, though. This is Cathryn come to stay with us for a wee while, same as Magnus. Cathryn, this is Rosie. Say hello, Rosie.’

  But Rosie had retreated behind Dolly’s skirt and, peeping at Cathryn, refused to say a word.

  Dolly put her hand on Rosie’s head.

  ‘She’ll soon be so chatty, Cathryn, you’ll be putting your fingers in your ears. Now, let’s go and find these eggs, Rosie Posie.’

  Left alone, Cathryn and Magnus were silent, the only sounds the clink of cutlery and the crunch of the last piece of toast being eaten.

  From his side of the table Magnus saw a woman, of probably about twenty-eight, five years younger than himself. Her thick chestnut hair was tied back. Her eyes were golden-brown, wide and clear, but there were dark shadows underneath.

  He opened his mouth to speak but she was standing up and carrying her dishes over to the sink. He joined her with his own plate, his footsteps silent on the linoleum since, as Cathryn realised, he was in his stocking feet.

  ‘You’ll have some boot-cleaning to do this morning,’ she said mischievously.

  ‘Well, I’d better go and ge
t on with it,’ he responded, but made no effort to do so. They stood looking out of the window above the sink.

  Dolly and Rosie were coming up the path to the back door, Rosie clutching a little basket.

  ‘Great kid, that,’ said Magnus. ‘Asking all sorts of questions about the Vikings. Look.’

  He indicated a cupboard door covered with pictures including one done in bright wax crayons of a Viking longship, the dragon-head breathing fire.

  ‘That’s a brilliant picture,’ Cathryn said to Rosie as she came in.

  Rosie smiled at her briefly then dived down to pick up the stripey kitten that had rushed forward to play with her laces.

  Cathryn stroked the kitten’s tiny ears. ‘What’s her name?’

  ‘Bee,’ Rosie whispered. ‘But she’s a boy kitten.’

  They were all laughing when the kitchen door banged open and in rolled a large man in a wheelchair, wearing a tartan dressing-gown.

  ‘Good morning, good morning.’ He smiled around genially. ‘You must be Miss Fenton. JD’s the name.’ He held out his hand.

  Ji-dee?

  Dolly saw Cathryn’s surprise.

  ‘My husband, John Donald. JD for short.’

  JD’s huge hand folded around Cathryn’s for a moment before Rosie rushed over and thrust the kitten at him.

  ‘Grandpa, look after Bee. I can see the bus coming.’

  Dolly handed Rosie her jacket and schoolbag. ‘You’re coming to us after school remember?’

  ‘Is Mum going to Inverness again?’

  ‘Yes, you know she’s doing a course at the college on Wednesdays,’ Dolly said, and Cathryn saw her exchange a glance with JD over Rosie’s head.

  Magnus pulled gently on one of Rosie’s pigtails.

  ‘Hey, Rosie. Don’t forget you and I are going to have a walk along the beach sometime to find that cave you were talking about. Dolly. Wonderful breakfast, thank you. Now if you’ll excuse me I have some boots to clean.’

  He winked at Cathryn as he left the room.

  Dolly looked after him with affection as she ushered Rosie out of the room.