‘Ay,’ said Corrie, in dispirited tones, leading the way towards the domestic quarters.
‘He’s thinking my tongue may rin awa’ with me,’ said Mrs Corrie. She went over to the door and closed it. ‘But that it willna do, for I hae nae mair to tell.’
‘How long have you been on Tannasgan, Mrs Corrie?’ asked Dame Beatrice.
‘How long? Oh, a matter of less than two years. We came here last September twelvemonth.’
‘So you’ve spent two winters on Tannasgan.’
‘We have that.’
‘And you were on your own here for about three weeks last winter?’
‘We were. The laird was awa’ to Gàradh, where they keep the gardens open to the public some days during the summer.’
‘Did you like it better while he was away?’
‘Wha wouldna like it better? We were our own masters.’
‘Yes, of course. What were your dealings with Mr Bradan’s son?’
‘That one? His father had turned him frae the door lang syne.’
‘Before you came to work here, you mean?’
‘No, no, but not so verra much later. He couldna thole him. He was a natural son, so we heard.’
‘Indeed?’ said Dame Beatrice. ‘Who, then, is said to be his mother?’
But Mrs Corrie was not prepared to answer this question. She muttered that she did not know. Laura made a guess which was destined never to be confirmed or denied.
‘I suppose it was the Mrs Grant who lives at Coinneamh,’ she said. Mrs Corrie handed her the dish of scones. It might have been an ironic or it might have been a pacific gesture. Conscious that no response to her remark was to be forthcoming, Laura took a scone.
‘So,’ said Dame Beatrice, taking the conversation along her own line again after this brief digression, ‘you cannot have been surprised that this natural son was disinherited.’
‘There would hae been no surprise, for we heard he played fause with his father,’ said Mrs Corrie.
‘Oh? In what way?’
‘He took up what he hadna laid down.’
‘So, after that, the laird hid it, whatever it was.’
‘Naebody kens.’
‘Why have you yourself never been on the wooded island of Haugr? Did you never wish to see the models of the fabulous beasts? Did you never wish to see the maze?’
Mrs Corrie shook her head.
‘Gin ever I cross the water,’ she said, ‘I’ll be awa’ to Glasgow where there’s shops and parks. Sauchiehall Street! Trongate! Argyle Street! Kelvingrove!’
‘I thought you came from Kirkintilloch,’ said Laura.
‘I do, so, but Glasgow is where I would choose to be. As for the wee inch of Haugr, I wouldna set foot on it for ony siller ye could offer.’ Asked why, she shook her head and passed her cup for more tea.
Chapter 21
Treasure Island
‘Fifteen men on the dead man’s chest –
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!
Drink and the devil had done for the
rest—
Yo-ho-ho, and a bottle of rum!’
Robert Louis Stevenson
« ^ »
LAURA had elected to sleep in the room which had been apportioned to her the first time she had visited An Tigh Mór. She woke at dawn, stared around her for a minute or two, then got up and decided to swim in the loch.
The water was cold, but not unbearably so. She enjoyed her bathe and was on the point of swimming back to the boathouse from which, having no idea of the depth of the water for diving, she had elected to push off, when it occurred to her that she had a priceless opportunity to land on the islet of Haugr and explore it on her own.
It was easy enough to get ashore. The water lapping the island was shallow and the mud was not treacherous. She waded on to the bank and was aware, immediately, that shoes would have been an asset. However, Laura was not deterred by disadvantages. She took the path which she and Dame Beatrice had followed on the only occasion when they had visited Haugr, and soon found herself among the fabulous animals.
Here there was no doubt about the destruction which had been done. The bronze basilisk had been uprooted and all that was left of him was a collection of sections of metal, one of them surmounted by his crowned serpentine head.
The werewolf had been thrown on to his side, but the enormous gryphon had been left alone. It seemed as though the excavator had boggled at the idea of attempting to uproot him. The salamander, however, had suffered. His large head, spangled with yellow paint in the form of diamonds, lay at an angle to his lizard’s body where the stonework had cracked.
Laura, chilly in her wet swim-suit, studied the ruins with concern. Macbeth and young Bradan, between them, had left a sorry mess. Conscious of hunger and cold, Laura left the island and swam back to the boathouse. When she re-entered An Tigh Mór it was to find a warm smoulder of peats in the dining-room and Mrs Corrie polishing the fine old sideboard.
‘Well!’ exclaimed Mrs Corrie, as Laura approached the fire, wrapped in the towel she had taken down to the boathouse. ‘A water-kelpie he called you, and a waterkelpie ye are! Get you into your claes before you catch your death!’
Laura laughed, warmed herself by the fire and then went upstairs to dress. She met Dame Beatrice on the landing.
‘Been for a swim,’ said Laura. ‘Either Macbeth or young Bradan has committed mayhem on the fabulous beasts. You ought to see the carnage!’
‘I intend to do so immediately after breakfast, child. I wonder whether the menu includes kippers?’
‘It’s haddocks’ eyes you search for among the heather bright, isn’t it?’
‘That may well be. Incidentally, I believe I have worked them into waistcoat buttons in the silent night.’
‘You have? Whoopee, Mrs Croc. dear. Tell me all.’
‘You shall know what there is to be known when we have digested our breakfasts.’
Laura was still young enough in heart to respond to this promise. As it happened, there were kippers for breakfast, brought in, said Mrs Corrie, from Aberdeen via Inverness and Tigh-Osda. As soon as breakfast was over, Laura and Dame Beatrice went down to the boathouse with George and Corrie and were rowed over to Haugr.
‘Now,’ said Laura, when they had landed on the wooded island, ‘I’ve almost forgotten my breakfast, so you’d better redeem your promise.’
‘We are going treasure-hunting, child. There may have been other reasons for the destruction of the statuary, but young Bradan did not come here merely to destroy. He knew – or believed, at any rate – that most of his father’s ill-gotten gains were hereabouts.’
‘Ay,’ said Corrie, ‘there was no a muckle heap of siller at the bank. I ken that verra well, for when the old laird wanted for money, I was despatched tae Inverness wi’ a cheque to cash, and mair than aince we were overdrawn there and the laird would go himself to set matters right. Ay, there maun be a hidey-hole hereabouts, as ye say, mistress, but the laird keepit verra close and helpit himself when naebody but the guidwife was on Tannasgan wi’ him, and well he kenned that she would never set foot on Haugr.’
Laura took the lead, Dame Beatrice was immediately behind her and George brought up the rear so that he could keep an eye on Corrie (his own idea, much appreciated by Dame Beatrice.) She made no reference to it, but thought it both touching and amusing. In this order the party traversed the little path until they came to the maze and, in the centre of it, the smashed and broken statuary.
The two men carried respectively a spade and a garden fork, and, when they reached their objective, a parcel borne by Laura, who had insisted upon relieving Dame Beatrice of it, was found to contain a large hammer.
‘Bags I,’ said Laura, swinging it up and down. ‘What do we do first – slam out or dig?’