Oh, and she too replied an easy good morning. Robert was silent, glaring. Shona, already pale and worn, whitened even more. She knew what my arrival—indeed, my existence—meant. Old Mac was there, to my surprise. And Hector, waving a cheery greeting. Mary MacNeish sat beside Elaine, who today seemed excitable, less transparent than usual.
“Good morning, Ian,” the boss said. “We were beginning to wonder where you were.”
“Stopped off for a quick snack, love.” Also, I’d actually been to check that my finished fake antique had already gone from Duncan’s workshop. I was very pleased at discovering that.
“I’ve heard about your wee snacks,” Elaine reprimanded dryly. “Mrs. Buchan calls you Dustbin.”
“Bloody nerve.” She always pretends she likes my appetite. “I’ll take my custom elsewhere if there’s criticism. She’s not the only pastry-maker in Caithness, is she, Mary?”
If Mary MacNeish expected me to be staggered at seeing her revealed as a McGunn, she was disappointed.
Elaine began. “Listen, all. Ian suggests we pretend to sell up Tachnadray.” She held a fragile hand to shush the murmurs. “I’ve summoned you to judge the merits. You all know our difficulties. Income’s too little to keep the seat of our clan intact. At best we’ll last a twelve-month. Then it’s the bailiffs and a boardinghouse—”
“Never!” Robert growled, fists clenched, glaring.
“Whist, man! We have some reserve antiques still—”
My cue. I rose, ahemming. We were arranged round the hall on a right mixture of chairs and benches. I had no notes, standing at my customary hands-in-pocket slouch.
The cultural shock had been too much for us all. Truth time.
“Sorry, Elaine. There’s no reserve antiques.” I spoke apologetically, but why? “Not a groat’s worth.”
“That’s quite wrong.” Elaine held out her hand imperiously. “The list, Duncan.”
Duncan’s gaze was fixed on the floor. He made no move as I went on, “The list is phony, love. Duncan and the rest made it up, probably to reassure you. They gave you some cock-and-bull story about the upper west wing being exactly right for storing the remainder of your antiques.”
Everybody tried to talk at once. Elaine cut the babble with a quiet “Go on, Ian.”
“Tachnadray is broke now, not next year. So, with the last genuine antique gone—”
“Well I mind that day,” Mac suddenly reminisced through his stubble. “Aye. Me and Cousin Peter from Thurso took it. Your father’s grand four-poster, Miss Elaine—”
“Shut up, you old fool,” Duncan said. “The past is past.”
“It’s a familiar story,” I went on. “Youngsters drift to the cities, a few adherents cling to the past. We’ve empty villages in East Anglia for the same reason. Tachnadray’s marsupialized. It’s a rock pool inhabited by crustaceans and sea anemones—
yourselves—after the tide’s ebbed.”
“Is this true?” Elaine demanded quietly. Nobody answered. She gazed at each in turn, waiting calmly until heads raised to meet her penetrating stare. She even gave me one.
Suddenly I was the only honest crook on the campus. “Continue.”
“There’s only one way out now. We pull a paper job.”
They listened, doubts to the fore, while I explained the rudiments. Duncan’s pipe went out. Michelle was enthralled, leaning forward and clearly excited by the whole thing.
Robert sank into deeper caverns of hatred. Shona was still getting used to my resurrection.
“We start the papering with a pawnbroker.” Murmurs began, thunder from Robert, but I was fed up with their criticism and raised my voice. “Not to use. To buy from.
Pawnbroking law changes, when items exceed fifty quid. The trick is to find a pawnbroker who’ll value even the Crown Jewels at forty-nine ninety-nine. In other words, the meanest. We take his stock-rings, necklaces, clothes —”
“And pretend they are Tachnadray’s heirlooms?” Elaine asked. “Isn’t that rather hard on the widows and orphans?”
“Yes.” My answer led into a vale of silence. I was a dicey Sherpa in treacherous mountains.
“Will that be sufficient?” Elaine must have been painfully aware of the outraged glances from the others.
“No. We’ll need more. But pawnbroking’s gone downhill these sixty years. There’s only a couple of hundred left in the entire land, which narrows our choice. We’ll want an entire convoy of antiques from somewhere, especially furniture. I’ve already started raising the dealers.”
“And told them here?” Shona was on her feet, furious.
“Don’t be daft.”
She subsided. Twice she’d absently reached out a hand as if about to pat a loyal hound.
Both times she’d looked about, distressed. More grief was on the way, poor lass.
“I’ve one problem, how to bring the antiques in. It’ll be a sizable convoy.”
They waited. Elaine waited. And so did I, examining their expectant faces.
“Well?” Elaine’s telepathy trick had gone on the blink.
