Old Sins, page 4
When she opened the door, she winced under the assault of the strong, fierce light of a clear frosty morning. Shivering, she looked at the man who stood on the doorstep – Sean Reynolds, the man from the big house on the Auchinglass Estate.
Despite the weather, he wasn’t wearing a jacket, just a white linen shirt open at the neck, with buttons that struggled to meet the buttonholes on the other side across his broad chest. He had short, dark, curly hair and with his cheeks rosy from the cold he had an air of robust health that, given her own enfeebled state, looked positively aggressive.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, not very convincingly. ‘Were you asleep?’
‘What does it look like?’
‘Terrible waste on a glorious morning like this.’ He turned, shielding his eyes against the low sun to look out over the shore where little white-tipped waves were curling gently to the bay beyond, a benevolent blue under a clear sky.
‘If you’ve got me out of bed to tell me it’s a lovely day,’ Danni began, ‘I—’
‘No, no,’ he said hastily. ‘Wanted a chat. Can I come in?’ He was halfway across the threshold already.
‘Can’t stop you, I suppose.’ She followed him in, shut the door and switched on the electric fire in the fireplace, huddling over it ostentatiously.
She knew the room was a mess and he didn’t bother to conceal his distaste as he looked at the discarded clothing and dirty dishes, the cigarette burns on the coffee table, the overflowing bin. He coughed, as if the fug from last night’s cigarettes was catching his throat.
‘You don’t have to stay if you don’t like it,’ she said flatly.
He didn’t reply, only going across to the battered leather sofa and shifting an empty frozen pizza box so that he could sit down. He looked up at her, standing there awkwardly in her purple pyjama bottoms and grey T-shirt with a parka jacket draped over her shoulders, then patted the sofa beside him.
‘Come on and sit down, Danni.’
She didn’t want to. In the first place, she didn’t want to move away from the fire; in the second, she felt it would put her at a disadvantage, but she found she was doing it anyway. A sort of raw energy radiated from the man and he spoke with such confidence that somehow she couldn’t argue.
Sean was looking round. ‘It’s still pretty much how it was when the old boy was here, isn’t it – I talked to him a couple of times. More bookshelves and stuff, and the kitchen looks better.’
‘She put in a new shower room, but that was all.’ At the mention of the shower, Danni shifted uneasily, aware of the smell of dried sweat. ‘Look, what is this about?’ As if she didn’t know.
‘You know what it is,’ he said, ‘but I think we need to talk some more. You’re not staying here for ever, are you? I guess you’ve a job somewhere? You’ll have to get back to it.’
It gave her enormous satisfaction to say airily, ‘Nuh – gave it up. I can do what I like now.’
Surprise showed on his face, then disappointment. ‘I see. Your aunt – well off, was she?’
‘She’d done all right. So I can take my time, OK?’
Sean leant forward, his elbows on his knees, reaching out towards her with his hands spread wide. The back of his hands were covered in fine black hairs but the palms were cracked and calloused with ingrained lines across the palms – so he knew about hard work, even if he had got money coming out of his ears.
‘When we talked last time, I assumed you’d just be wanting to get rid of the place as soon as you could. I know Ranald Sinclair is after it as well and I said we’d top whatever he offered. What I didn’t do was explain properly why we need it.
‘Surely you wouldn’t want to see him developing more of those disgusting polluting fishnets. You’re young – you know what state the planet’s in. It’s your world we’ve mucked up and now we have to save it. Well – you’ve heard of Greta Thunberg?’
He used the name as if it was the clinching argument but she looked at him with cold eyes. Yes, she’d heard her.
‘She’s a hypocrite,’ she said. ‘Bet the vegetables she eats got to the shops in a lorry – and if she really cared that much about the planet she’d have stayed at home and Skyped instead of going to all those conferences.’
To her satisfaction, Sean looked gobsmacked. ‘I-I can’t believe you said that! You’re young – surely she speaks for your generation?’
Danni shrugged. ‘Nuh. Only the posh kids. And the celebs who’ll just do what they want anyway, like Harry and Meghan.’
She watched him coolly as he struggled to work out what to say next. From the look on his face, he’d have liked to lose his temper with her for saying such dreadful things – ooh, naughty Danni! – but he needed to keep her sweet if she was ever going to agree to sell to him. Having power was a new experience but she was enjoying it.
‘Look,’ he said at last, ‘I hear what you’re saying. I’m not preaching about all the things people shouldn’t do – I’m looking at it a different way. You know we’re planting all these trees …’
‘Well – yeah.’ If she’d forgotten that, the headache she was struggling with would have reminded her. She wouldn’t still be around if it wasn’t for the guys who were working on his project. Apart from them this place was pants and she’d have been out of here long ago.
‘Right. So that’s at least something we’ve been able to do to help. But the thing I really want above everything else, why we need as much land as we can possibly get our hands on, is to restore this place to what it was like before men came in and spoilt it.’ He was leaning towards her, his eyes alive with enthusiasm as he went on, ‘Scotland was really a sort of paradise for wildlife at one time and with enough vision we can make them thrive here again – red squirrels, pine martens, wildcats, wolves even—’
‘Wolves?’ It was her turn to be astonished. ‘What would you want wolves for? They’re dangerous.’
Sean flushed. ‘That’s the sort of thing they say, but it’s crap. People all over Europe live alongside wolves and they belonged here until we came on to their territory and wiped them out. They’re reclusive animals – you wouldn’t know they’re there, mostly.’
The man was completely barking. ‘Until they got hungry.’
This time he showed his temper. ‘That’s fatuous,’ he snarled. ‘OK, they might take a sheep or two, but—’
Danni gave an enormous yawn and stood up. ‘Don’t see it, to be honest. Look, do you mind …’
Sean got up immediately. ‘Sorry, sorry. Just don’t make any hasty decisions, will you? And remember, if it’s a question of money …’
The way he said it had a little flick of contempt – as if there was something wrong with caring about money instead of caring about wolves – wolves, FFS! She said stiffly, ‘I heard what you said. You can’t bounce me into anything.’
‘No, of course not. Thanks for talking to me, anyway.’
He smiled, but she could just about hear the gritted teeth. He’d planned to sweet-talk her, expecting her to fall for it, but he’d failed. He was well pissed off, and really quite scarily angry – just like Ranald Sinclair when she’d told him the same. She’d never quite realised what fun it was to have money. Cheers, Flora!
There’d been a big argument at home about how she was going to spend it. Her dad was so angry he couldn’t speak about it without going radge and even her mum, who usually avoided any sort of argument, had lectured her about it.
‘It’s a nice wee nest egg, Danielle, and you’ll get a good bit for the croft to take you on to the property ladder. Flora would be pleased to know she’d given you such a good start in life.’
Danni had only given her a sideways look and said nothing. She hadn’t told them about her aunt’s letter; Flora had wanted her to have fun with it, not to go soft on her and set out on a life like her mum’s. She’d bought herself a jazzy little yellow Honda that was her pride and joy and gone off to Inverbeg.
But no way was this permanent. With a can of Irn Bru for her hangover, she sat down to think about what she was going to do next. ‘When you’re on top, go for the jugular,’ Flora had always told her. ‘If you don’t, the wheel’ll turn and you’ll be on the bottom, ground into the mud.’
Danni was on top at the moment. She was going to play Sinclair off against Reynolds and turn the screw until their eyes watered. OK. That worked. But when?
Inverbeg must be about the dreariest place in the universe and she still couldn’t get her mind round the cool, glamorous Flora she knew being able to stand it, with only the boring locals for company – and sheep, huh? The only way Danni could hack it was by spending the morning in bed and going to the pub whenever it opened. There was a guy she fancied and a couple of others she was having a bit of fun with, but one of them had got kind of intense lately.
And tbh, the house was sort of spooking her. The weather was getting colder every day and even when she switched on every heater in the place it didn’t shift that creepy smell of bare stone and old smoke from peat fires; it seemed to reach out to cling to you whenever you opened the front door. And every time she came back to it, she found herself thinking about Flora’s death. Head injuries, they’d said, and she kept having a vision of Flora spreadeagled there on the beach with her skull smashed in. Danni shuddered, thinking about it now.
She needed to get out of here, soon. And then she’d go off travelling. Australia, maybe? They’d great beaches there, and she kind of liked the cute wildlife. Better than wolves, anyway.
Setting off from the bothy at first light, Kelso Strang had made good time on the long walk to his car and arrived just as Ranald Sinclair was walking from his office back to the house looking for coffee.
‘Oh, there you are! Did you manage to make it to the top?’ he said, opening the door to the mudroom and ushering him in. ‘That’s Kelso now,’ he called through to Hattie in the kitchen.
‘I’ll make the coffee,’ she called back as Kelso hung up his jacket and kicked off his walking boots. Whenever Ranald opened the kitchen door the dogs came romping through, eager to do their duty as greeters.
‘Down!’ Ranald snapped, and the two labs, giving him a wary glance, subsided to the floor immediately, catching Kelso off-balance with his hand outstretched to pat them. He followed Ranald, saying, ‘Managed Caisteal Liath, but I’d to get off it pretty sharpish – the wind was savage, and I didn’t even try for Meall Meadhonach. I’d a great day, though – bit of a blow in the middle, but it settled after that. Hi, Hattie.’
‘Good to see you, Kelso. We were thinking about you when the rain came on here. Were you all right in the bothy? You’re probably starving – what can I get you?’
‘Always Hattie’s first thought, food,’ Ranald said unkindly. ‘Don’t rush him! Let him decide what he wants to do – probably wants to change out of the clothes he’s been sleeping in and have a shower.’
Hattie looked crestfallen. Trying to lighten the atmosphere, Kelso said, ‘Is that a hint, Ranald? I tell you what, you stay downwind of me, I’ll grab a cup of coffee and a piece of toast or something, and then I’ll go up and get respectable.’
‘Whatever suits.’ Ranald sounded a little stiff. ‘Liberty Hall.’ The dogs, subdued, had come through behind him and when he said ‘Basket!’ they trotted across to lie by the Aga. The men sat down at the table with mugs of coffee and Hattie started frying bacon for a butty.
‘I tell you what was seriously weird,’ Kelso said. ‘I can’t get this out of my head. I woke up cold in the bothy in the early hours and went out for some wood to get the fire going again and I heard a wolf howling – a long way away, but definitely a wolf. Does someone keep them around here?’
Ranald shook his head. ‘A wolf? Naah. There’s some big dogs around – that’s probably what you heard. And up a mountain, middle of the night – no wonder it seemed weird.’
‘Not a dog.’ Kelso was definite. ‘I was on an exercise in Dalmatia once and we heard them at night – the most eerie thing you could imagine. Suddenly you’re primitive man and the sound goes straight through to chill your spine.’
Hattie turned. ‘Do you know, I heard someone talking about that in the shop. There was a rumour going round that one of the crofters saw a sheep being mauled and he swore it was a wolf that was doing it when he scared it off.’
‘Dog, most like,’ Ranald said. ‘Difficult to tell, with some of the new breeds you see nowadays.’
‘They were all saying it must be to do with Sean Reynolds. He’s got a thing about bringing them back – maybe he’s got one even before they’re allowed,’ she went on, and suddenly Ranald was interested.
‘Hang on – I suppose that could be right. The man’s trying to buy up all the land round here and then he’ll start pulling strings to get a licence to enclose and bring in wolves and suddenly it all makes sense. With Scotland’s “right to roam” nonsense there’s no right to privacy if you’ve got a bit of land. You can’t stop people going anywhere they like – we’ve actually had oiks walking right past here and peering in our front windows. But they’re all dead nuts about reintroducing wildlife and if you were able to keep wolves, you’d be allowed to fence off the whole lot in case boy scouts started wandering around and getting eaten. Job done.’
Kelso was fascinated. ‘I’d never have thought of it like that. It seems an elaborate way to get privacy, but …’
‘He’s certainly obsessed about wolves,’ Hattie said as she set down the sandwich, to appreciative noises from Kelso. ‘Stand still long enough and he’ll start telling you more than you really want to know about them. You can see for yourself tonight – I expect we’ll be going along to the pub and Sean’s always there on a Saturday.’
As Kelso finished his breakfast and went off to shower, his spirits lifted at the thought of being spared another evening of listening to the Sinclairs sniping at each other. It’s strange how relationships change as you move on; he’d have said Ranald was a good mate, but now he realised they had merely been brothers-in-arms, which was a very different thing.
Ranald had been an army man through and through; for Kelso, taking a short-term commission had merely been a sop to his father, Major General Sir Roderick – a wasted gesture that hadn’t worked, since he’d never been forgiven for leaving when it finished – and their life-experience had been vastly different since.
Now Kelso realised he really didn’t like the man at all. Ranald had been a good officer, well liked by his men, but perhaps he’d carried the authoritarian attitude on into private life. The way he was treating Hattie was nothing short of bullying and their marriage was falling apart before his eyes, hard to watch when there was nothing you could do. As an outsider he couldn’t hope to understand the internal dynamics of other people’s relationships.
But perhaps tonight he would get a chance to talk to Hattie on her own. When you lived in a place like this confiding in your friends was dangerous if you didn’t want your private problems to become common knowledge, and being able to let off steam to Kelso, whom she would most likely never see again, might help.
CHAPTER FOUR
Sean Reynolds’ displeasure was written on his face as he came back into Auchinglass House. The cleaner was hoovering the parquet flooring in the hall and she hastily switched it off and moved the machine out of his way.
He didn’t thank her. ‘Where’s my wife?’ was all he said.
‘She’s in the sitting room with your mum.’ She gave him a jaundiced look as he strode off.
The sitting room was flooded with light on this bright sunny morning. Though the house’s Victorian ancestry showed in the pitch pine doors and windows and the ecclesiastical-style fireplace where a log fire was burning, the decor and furnishings were emphatically modern, employing neutral shades with clever highlights of colour.
Maia Reynolds glanced up as he came in, then looked down, her light brown hair swinging forward around her face.
She said, ‘Shirley and I are just having a coffee. Do you want one? I’ll get you a mug.’
‘Fine,’ he said, sitting down as she got up and went out.
His mother Shirley gave him a searching look. She was sitting in her ‘riser’ chair, her tripod walking-stick beside her, her gnarled and twisted hands evidence of the arthritis that was crippling her, but there was nothing wrong with the sharp mind behind the bright brown, hooded eyes.
Sean’s thick, dark brows were drawn into a straight line and his cheeks were flushed with temper.
‘Didn’t go your way, then?’ Shirley said in her gravelly, ginny voice.
She viewed her son as a duck would if playing mum to a fluffy chick – well disposed, but baffled. There was a sort of naivety about his romantic idealism and his fanatical devotion to his rewilding cause and his wolves that, as a cynical pragmatist, she found hard to understand. It was engaging, though, and even admirable in its way, and she was loyally prepared to go along with him and read the books he put into her hands and listen while he talked about his precious wolves the way a lover might talk about his mistress.
Sean grunted. ‘Mmm. Lippy little bitch! She’s playing games with me.’
‘No more reasonable than the aunt, then?’
‘I explained to her what it was all about and she just sneered. I couldn’t believe it – she’s young, and it’s her world we’re trying to save. She should be impassioned! She really has no right to think like that. And where do people get these stupid ideas about wolves from? It completely stops them listening to reason.’
‘Something to do with those films with Russians in troikas in snow and a wolf pack gaining on them?’ Shirley suggested drily.
‘That’s just so much nonsense – you know that!’ he protested.
‘Yes, but they don’t.’
‘For heaven’s sake! They wouldn’t even notice if there were, say, a pair on the estate.’ He shifted a little uncomfortably under her sceptical gaze. ‘Anyway, you’re all for it too, aren’t you?’
