ON DEVIL'S BRAE (A Psychological Suspense Thriller) (Dark Minds Mystery Suspense) (18 page)

Most importantly—if she stayed here, she would see and be near Angus, even if their relationship couldn’t move on.

She gave one last glance to the brae and scanned the area. It looked empty, but when the wind blew she thought she heard a faint call, thin and mocking on the breeze. “Imagination,” she whispered, knowing deep inside she was lying.

***

“So we’ll see you Friday afternoon,” Rosie said before finishing the call. Cassandra was pleased, her last visitors of the year and her best friends. She was determined to make their stay an enjoyable one.

That weekend they were lucky. During most of the last few weeks, the weather had been spectacular. There was high pressure all over the country, making the combination of blue skies, cool crisp temperatures and early autumn foliage on the trees a memorable experience. The daytime temperatures settled round an almost balmy range between twelve to fifteen degrees Celsius.

Cassandra was adamant she wanted Rosie and Cynthia to relax and do nothing. They had to be back at work all too soon, and besides, she had put all further renovations on hold until the following year.

“So you’re determined to stick it out then?” Cynthia said when they were lying back against the wall, basking in the sun. “Be a martyr on your own.” The three had picked the most sheltered spot in the garden and were taking advantage of the fine weather. Later, when the sun dropped and the chill rose, they planned to venture back indoors and lounge round the fire, drinking red wine, eating chocolates and chatting. It would be the perfect evening for three women who had been friends for over ten years.

Cassandra kept her eyes closed against the sun as she smiled at her words. Cynthia was always the more scathing of her friends and had never been one to tread carefully over her choice of words. “You’re forgetting I’m not alone. It’s not as if I’m the only house in the valley.”

“Right. You’ve got the lot over on the funny farm.” She gave what could only be described as a snort. “And it’s bound to be bloody cold, come December. You’ve not put central heating in, I notice, despite Julian’s advice.”

Julian must have put her up to it. Despite him saying what a marvellous place the valley was, she knew he wished she would sell the place and put it into something he could really admire—especially if he owned half of it, too. “If it gets too much, then I have a choice, don’t I?” She opened her eyes, stifling back a sigh. “Look, loads of people live in far worse places. I can easily get in my car and come down. The flat’s empty, I can just move back in. It’s not a problem.” But it was. Cassandra didn’t want to give in and have them say, ‘told you so’. She knew the pull of the valley loomed over her in some odd inexplicable way, and she
had
to see it out. Something lurked…was waiting to pounce, but what and…why?

She still felt the stares from various houses when she walked up the road. From the heartless Mrs Campbell, her dull rough sons, the sad and morose Elizabeth, crazy Lorna, and unfathomable Donald. She thought that being on friendlier terms with Carol, she had managed to get through to her, but even she still peeked at Cassandra from behind the front-room curtains if it took her fancy. She felt they all observed, all snooped, all speculated, in their own way.

“Why, Cassandra?” she persisted. “Rosie and I think you’re just being bloody pig-headed by staying.”

“Hey!” Rosie removed her sunglasses and sat up. “Don’t bring me into it. I’ve said all along I might not feel comfortable with it, but it
is
Cassandra’s choice.”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry,” she backed down. “If we can’t persuade you, I won’t say any more.”

“Look, I’m chuffed you both care, really I am. And grateful too. But it’s only for a few more months, after which, I promise I’ll return.” Ever since learning about Angus’s wife, she had thought about leaving more than once. Despite remaining good friends with Angus, she couldn’t see anything developing, and she wasn’t about to break up a marriage. She had seen enough of that during her life. She had spent a lifetime taking thousands of photographs of happy couples, only to hear later how this marriage or that partnership had floundered and failed. She had no right to anyone else’s husband.

That weekend they walked miles, filling empty plastic tubs with blackberries, rich juice running down their chins, staining their fingers. Cassandra tried her hand at making bramble and apple jam, the lush pungent smell filling the cottage, while Rosie made pastry for a pie. They dined well on roast pork with crackling and apple sauce, followed by Rosie’s pudding smothered in thick cream and Cynthia’s contribution of luscious spicy Shiraz and homemade Belgian chocolates. They laughed and joked, argued, and cheated at cards, knowing it would soon be time for Cynthia and Rosie to head south.

As they piled their bags into the boot of Rosie’s Renault, Cynthia tried to coax Cassandra. “So what about Christmas? Can’t we tempt you down to stay? The children would love to see their Auntie Cassie.”

Cassandra smiled, almost tempted, but she shook her head. “It’s too early to say. Can I let you know next month?” she added, when she saw Cynthia’s disappointed look.

After a round of hugs and kisses, the two women climbed into the car, fastened their seatbelts, and soon, Cassandra was once again left waving goodbye. Looking both ways along the desolate country lane, Cassandra wondered whether she really was doing the right thing in staying. Would anyone truly care whether she stayed or went?

Chapter 23 Autumn, 2013, Inverdarroch

It was a couple of weeks later when Angus came round holding a fluffy little bundle in his arms. As Cassandra answered the door to his knock, her eyes lit up in excitement.

“I thought you might want this,” were his opening words. “Seeing as your friends have left and he needs a mum, and you might like the company.”

“Oh Angus!” she squealed. “He’s adorable. Where did you get him from?” She reached out and took the snuffling golden-haired puppy into her arms. She buried her face in his fur and smelt the familiar puppy-dog odour.

Angus smiled, pleased with her reaction. “Some friends of mine in Edinburgh breed them, and he’s the last one of the litter. Now before you ask whether he’s the runt, can I say no? The truth is, the other pups have gone to estates or farms, and this little feller is frightened of gunshot, so he’ll never make it as a working dog. He’ll make a perfect pet and companion. What do you think?”

“What do I think young feller?” she said, lifting the puppy up and meeting a pair of moist brown eyes. “I think you’ll do just fine here with me. Come on in, Angus.”

They walked into the cottage, and Cassandra put the dog down on the floor. He immediately ran around sniffing at the furniture and her boots, lying near the door. “How old is he? He looks all legs and feet. I suppose he’s not house-trained yet?”

“He’s just over four months, and he’s not bad. Jean is very good at getting puppies to do ‘their business’ at a young age. No doubt you’ll have some accidents, but she said he’s been a quick learner.”

“Four months. Heavens, I’ve never owned a dog, despite thinking I’d like one. What do I do first about food and walks and everything else?”

Angus laughed. “Don’t look so worried, you’ll soon get the hang of it. I’ve left a bag of puppy food outside, together with a lead. I’ve had a few dogs, so I know what to expect.”

“But what about inoculations, and does he need to be kept in?”

“Relax! He’s had everything he needs for now, and yes, he can go out for exercise. Remember though, as he’s still growing, you can’t start him off on five-mile hikes.”

Cassandra smiled shyly at Angus. “You’ve thought of everything. Um, what do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Jean owed me a favour, and she wanted a good home for him.” He paused. “Cassandra, why didn’t you tell me you had a fire earlier in the year?”

She gasped in surprise. “How did you find out?”

“Julian. On his last visit Julian mentioned something about you managing to set some rubbish and a paint tin on fire. You must be more careful, the timbers in these old places are as dry as dust, and the whole place would go up in flames in minutes. I never mentioned it, as I know how much you value your privacy. But I really do worry about you sometimes.”

Cassandra glanced away and bit her lower lip. It seemed Julian hadn’t mentioned she thought someone had done it on purpose. Maybe he hadn’t believed her?

“I must have been careless after drinking nearly a bottle of red wine when went out for dinner at the Drovers Inn. I went to bed late, and I probably didn’t clear everything away. I don’t know what happened…some chemical reaction with the linseed oil, I thought.”

Angus stared at Cassandra for a long moment. “Well, if that’s all it was, just be cautious in future. I’d…I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you.” He bent down and fondled the puppy’s ears. “He’ll be great company for you, and with his nose, he’ll soon let you know if something’s amiss.”

Cassandra stared at the top of his dark head, her thoughts in a jumble. Angus had just intimated he cared for her in so many words…hadn’t he? And what had Julian really told him about the fire? There was a silence between them, which Cassandra found unnerving.

“What shall we call him?” she said in a rush. “He doesn’t look like a Scottish dog, although he was born in Edinburgh. I know, what about Bailey?”

Angus nodded his approval. “Bailey suits him, and it is made from whisky after all.”

“Then Bailey it is. Talking of which, can I offer you a drink?” she added with a shy smile.

Angus glanced at his watch. “I do have some work to finish off, but…all right, one quick one would be nice. A small whisky if you have it.”

“Of course. It wouldn’t do to live here without a bottle or two of the amber nectar. Julian brought me a fabulous, delectable single malt I’m sure you’ll like.”

“Perfect.” He walked over to the kitchen back door. “Have you any old newspaper to put down? Jean has managed to get him down to weeing on a piece by the back door if he’s desperate. She also told me to tell you she’s been saying ‘get busy’ for his wee and poo. When you let him outside, it’s important you stay with him until he performs. When he does, just make sure you give him a treat as a reward. It seems to work.”

Cassandra flashed Angus a look of gratitude. “I haven’t thanked you. He’s lovely.”

Angus wandered through to the living-room area and paused before an oil painting on one of the walls. The picture was a view of the surrounding hills of Inverdarroch. In the foreground there was a figure dressed in tartan, walking forwards.

“You didn’t have this up last time I visited.”

Cassandra walked towards him carrying two glasses of Scotch. “No. I put it up a week or so ago. Do you like it?”

“Where did you find it?”

Cassandra thought his choice of words unusual. “It was here. I found it months ago when I cleared away some of the junk from the shed, and it was lying right at the back. The frame was dusty and the actual picture dark with dirt. I didn’t have any chemicals and neutraliser for cleaning, so I used good old spit! Did you know there are enough enzymes in your saliva to remove tobacco and grease?”

“No, I didn’t, but it doesn’t surprise me as saliva stains babies’ clothes.”

Cassandra stared at him, wondering how
did
he know that? “Well, it worked, but it was hard going! I’m curious. You said ‘find’ just now. Have you seen it before?”

Angus rubbed the back of his neck. “Yes, but not for ages. Your sister had it hanging on the wall in almost the exact same place.”

“How bizarre. Come and sit down where it’s warmer. And thank you again for bringing me the puppy. I’m so pleased and I know we’ll get on.” She smiled and called to the puppy, who rushed over at the sound of her voice.

Angus sat down on the settee and laughed. “Don’t mention it. By the way, you may change your mind if he howls at night. Whether you let him sleep in your bedroom is up to you.” He grinned. “He might not be quite the bedroom partner you want, especially when he snores.”

Cassandra looked at Angus and felt a flush rise from her neck to her cheeks. As their eyes met, she swore Angus knew she wasn’t thinking about having
Bailey
in her bed. She passed his drink to him, and when their fingers touched, she felt as if she was on fire. Shaken, she looked away and moved nearer to the hearth, making a pretence of stroking the puppy. Her thoughts were in turmoil. His look had been so intense…had he too felt a concentrated passion which was threatening to erupt between them?

“Cassandra?”

She looked up hearing the kindness in his voice.

He leaned nearer and reached for her hand. Cassandra saw the fire reflected in his eyes, which had deepened to the inky black-blue of deep oceans. “I’m sorry, mo guradh milis. I…I know you feel the attraction between us, but I can’t. We mustn’t. I’m not free—”
He broke off as she interrupted his halting words.

“It’s all right. I understand. Julian told me.”

Angus frowned. “He did?”

Desperately blinking back tears, Cassandra nodded. “Please don’t say any more. I’m happy that you’re here and we’re good friends. Let’s not spoil things by saying anything we might regret.”
Mo guradh milis
, she thought—my sweet darling. It was the third time he had called her that. She felt so muddled. He cared, but he also said he shouldn’t…should she wait? Was there a possibility that things could work out for them, whatever his complications were?

***

Bailey settled in with Cassandra almost from the very first day. Angus had been correct in saying he would make a perfect companion. Weeks later, Cassandra was proud with her progress in his training. He rarely suffered ‘accidents’ in the house and would sit, lie down, come on command, and walked at heel when she asked him. Off the leash, he loved running across the open ground, often stopping to make sure she was following. Cassandra was so happy Angus had brought Bailey to her.

She walked with him two or three times a day. They loved their favourite walks, and if the weather was fine, Cassandra would take a sandwich and a drink so they could walk farther than usual. While Bailey was off rabbiting, Cassandra would find a sheltered spot and lie back in the heather, munching her lunch.

During late evening, when they walked down the lane for Bailey’s last exercise of the day, Cassandra came across Carol. She realised she was seeing more and more of her. As she watched the girl lounging against the farmyard gate, Cassandra wondered whether Carol was lonely and waiting for her. On impulse, Cassandra asked if she would like to join them on their walk.

Carol shot a look back at the house and shook her head. “Màthair will kill me if she ken I were out.”

“But Carol, it’s only for a walk. Ten minutes.”

Carol refused to meet Cassandra’s eyes, staring past her head into the distance, mouth tightly clenched and making a slight and curious rocking movement of her upper body. “No.”

“Another time then, maybe?”

“Maybe. I’ll come when it’s late or they’re all out. When they won’t notice.”

Cassandra thought her explanation strange and frowned. “All right. Just remember if you see me, you’re always welcome to come along.” She wondered why Carol wanted to keep her outings secret. Did Mrs Campbell think Cassandra was such a poor example to her daughter she shouldn’t go near her?

Carol leant forward and whispered. “They like to know where I am at all times. They’d keep me locked up, but they know they can’t. They think I’ll behave if I stay indoors, but I sometimes sneak out when they’re busy. They never believe me, anyway.” Her eyes slid away and Cassandra smelt the sourness of her stale body.

“Who? Your family?”

She stared at Cassandra as if seeing her for the first time. “Of course I mean my family.”

“What don’t your family believe, Carol?” Cassandra’s mind was running riot. Was the girl some sort of hooligan, whom the family chose to keep under lock for some reason?

Carol took a step backwards, a flash in her eyes, which up until then had been largely dull and expressionless. “I just told you. They think I’m bad and I’ll do something which will shame the family,” she finished, flashing Cassandra a sly look.

“So you do go out? Do you have some friends near here? I wondered because I’ve never seen anyone visit you.”

Carol looked at Cassandra as if she was mad. “Och, no! My friends are secret. I’d never let
them
know.”

They were interrupted by a noise coming from the yard, and at the sound of a deep male voice, Carol shot indoors. Not for the first time, Cassandra was left wondering about Carol and her family. The girl always seemed afraid of them and especially her mother, whom Cassandra suspected was little more than a bully. Another thing puzzled her: Elizabeth had said she was just shy and friendless, but Cassandra thought she portrayed other characteristics. She had no real knowledge, but surely the girl was suffering from some sort of delusional illness?

***

A few days later, it was exceptionally fine, and Cassandra idly wondered why people said the weather in Scotland was so awful. Since her sojourn in Inverdarroch, she had enjoyed some gorgeous days.

She and Bailey walked down the lane, past the farm, which was quiet at that hour, and drew level with the kirk. No one was around except for a lone figure sweeping leaves into piles along the far wall. Cassandra couldn’t see his face, but she assumed it was Uncle Archie from the farm. She still hadn’t met the man but guessed he was the same person she had spoken to in the churchyard months before. It was puzzling; the hamlet was so small and the villagers an introverted lot. They ignored anyone with whom they didn’t want to socialise. She didn’t bother to walk up the churchyard path and say hello. If Uncle Archie was like the rest of the family, he would be the final piece to complete what Julian called the Addams family. Bailey tugged impatiently on his lead, and they were soon past Donald and Fiona’s cottage and out in the open countryside on the heath. Cassandra admired the rampant scenery all around, and after slipping Bailey’s collar so he could run and explore, she decided to take yet another load of photographs. The light that day was remarkable.

She got out her camera and paused to compose her picture. From out of nowhere she suddenly felt goose pimples run along her spine and across her shoulders. She was sitting on a flat rock; the valley was spread before her, and behind there were various scattered groups of boulders. The feeling was so real, Cassandra was certain someone was watching her.

Startled, she looked around, sure she would see someone. She stood up and, thinking the watcher was behind the boulders, crept over to them. This time, her ‘stalker’ wasn’t going to get away before she confronted him or her. She peered behind the nearest boulder, tiptoed to the next, and stared down into the valley on the other side of the ridge. The land was spread out before her as far as her eye could see. She heard a scraping sound and whirled round, her heart thudding almost painfully in her chest. Bailey appeared over the crag, scattering gravel from beneath his feathery paws, looking excited, pink tongue lolling from his jaw, and his tail wagging from side to side.

Cassandra hugged him to her. He had grown over the weeks, and already she knew he was going to be a large and powerful dog when adult. But for the moment, he was still her baby. The sound must have been Bailey, and she felt her heartbeat slow to a more normal level. She stood up, and still felt a presence. Was it Bailey? Cassandra gave herself a mental shake and laughed at her paranoia…it must have been.

She took one last look round and noticed something half hidden in the heather. Mystified she crept over and picked it up. It looked remarkably like one of the little sculptures which had disappeared from her shed. Cassandra began to shake.

Was it her paranoia? Was somebody out there watching her?

***

Cassandra felt it must have been an omen, as the weather changed the next day. She had never got round to restocking her wood pile during the summer, having been so busy with visitors and decorating and just making the cottage comfortable. She eyed her dwindling supply and knew it was time to pay a visit to the farm. She dithered between taking Bailey for a walk and decided against it because of the farm dogs, which were often loose about the place. Although they knew her and weren’t aggressive, Bailey always wanted to play, and one or two still bared their teeth at him.

“Good boy. Stay,” she ordered as she shut the cottage door behind her and turned towards the lane. Be brave, she whispered to herself. Mrs Campbell is only a rude old biddy with no manners.

At the farm she spied one of the brothers, and as luck would have it, he was actually chopping wood. Cassandra thought she could outsmart Mrs Campbell and bypass the old crone by asking the son directly. The only trouble was Cassandra couldn’t remember which one she was looking at until she recalled Julian’s words about Rae, the eldest. ‘
He’s tall, broad-shouldered, and small-headed.’
Rae it was, then. There was no sign of Carol, and Cassandra wondered whether she was spying from an upstairs window. Cassandra knew she did.

Cassandra walked up to the brother and called out a greeting. The man paused and laid down his axe. His forehead was covered with beads of sweat, and he gave her a blank stare as if he had never seen her in his life before. The word ‘bovine’ sprang to mind.

“It’s Rae, isn’t it?” she asked, feeling awkward for some reason. “I need some logs. I spoke to your mother some time back. She said it was okay and you’d supply me with some when I needed them.” He raised his axe once again, and Cassandra watched it fall. He tugged at the wood, dislodging the blade and lifted it once more.

Cassandra wondered if her friends were right after all and the brothers really were one sandwich short of a picnic. Could he actually understand English? Perhaps he only spoke Gaelic, she mused, when he suddenly stopped and faced her. “Why de ye no go to the kirk?” he asked.

Dumbfounded, Cassandra blurted out before thinking, “Because I’m Church of England.”

He nodded and lifted the axe once again. As if that settled everything! Cassandra looked around helplessly and wondered if it might be easier to order logs from the nearest town.

“Aye. We will deliver your wood, Miss Potter,” he suddenly said. “Can’t say when, though.”

Relieved, Cassandra thanked him and turned to go, but he forestalled her by leaning over and putting a large sweaty hand on her arm. He gave it a hearty squeeze. Cassandra jumped and almost squeaked in surprise. “Later this week,” he leered, gazing down at the soft mound of her breasts beneath her sweater. “I’ll give you a knock.”