directions.
The lady at the post office was working on a garish piece of macrame. Macrame followed her everywhere, Shanni thought despondently. What, was there a world resurgence?
But as soon as she asked for directions the postmistress set aside her macrame and beamed.
‘How many kiddies this time?’
‘Five.’
‘Oh, my dear. Oh, you’re all going to have a wonderful time. I can’t tell you…’
It was a positive note. Shanni returned to the car and headed off again, vaguely worried that Pierce would be worried. She rounded the first bend out of town and there was Pierce, parked in a lay-by. Yes, he was looking worried. But then…
She saw the castle.
She eased off the accelerator and pulled to a stop, astounded.
Donald’s small jaw dropped open, and Shanni’s jaw dropped in consensus.
‘Wow,’ said Donald.
‘Wow is right,’ she whispered.
‘It’s a real castle,’ Donald said.
‘I’m scared,’ said Shanni.
Donald cast her a doubtful look. ‘I don’t think it’s scary.’
‘No?’
‘It’s just big and pointy, and like Abby’s storybooks. There probably aren’t any ghosts. Abby will like this place.’
What wasn’t to like? Shanni thought, stunned. The place seemed straight out of a gothic novel. The castle itself was set high on the cliffs above the sea, with purple-hazed mountains ringing the rear. Built of gleaming white stone, it was all turrets and battlements and vast stone walls. Flags flew from the battlements. Any minute now, she’d see warriors with spears and tubs of hot tar preparing to see them off.
Her car door was tugged open. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ Pierce demanded, and she jumped about a foot.
‘Don’t-don’t do that.’
‘What?’
‘You scared me.’
‘And you scared me. I was imagining car accidents.’
‘Just because I drive sedately when I have children in the car,’ she managed, prim. And then she gazed at the castle again. ‘You’ve seen this before?’
‘I helped with the renovations. Isn’t it great?’
‘I…It’s unbelievable. What’s a castle doing on the coast of New South Wales?’
‘The original Loganaich Castle was in Scotland. It got bombed in the Second Word War. The last earl had been wounded in the war. He’d suffered a gutful of midges and fog and he craved sun, so he rebuilt here. Isn’t it fantastic?’
‘Fantastic,’ she said cautiously. ‘As an architect…’
‘Oh, I disapprove,’ he said, and grinned. ‘Talk about an environmental white elephant…But now it’s built I’m just as gobsmacked as the next man, and helping with the renovations was great. Talk about preserving kitsch. It’s fantastic.’ He peered in to Donald. ‘What do you reckon, Donald?’
‘Shanni says it’s scary,’ Donald said.
‘What’s to be scared of? There aren’t any dungeons. The old earl thought they could safely be left in Scotland.’ He pointed to the highest turret. ‘That turret contains the kids’ bedrooms. You want to sleep in a turret?’
‘With…’ Donald gulped. ‘With Wendy and everyone?’
‘Yes.’
Donald cast an uncertain glance at Shanni. ‘And with Shanni?’
‘Yes,’ Shanni said before Pierce could respond. ‘It’s an excellent idea of Donald’s that I sleep with the kids. Thank you for inviting me, Donald.’
‘Still scared?’ Pierce teased and grinned, and she knew he wasn’t referring to a few ghosts.
‘I was on pills last night,’ she said with as much dignity as she could muster.
‘So you’ve told me five times today already. You want to come into the castle?’
He had to stop smiling, she thought desperately. He must. She was falling, falling, falling, and here was a crazy medieval castle looming before her, telling her she should leave reality outside and indulge in make-believe.
Yeah, right. Fairy tale or not, she had to keep her feet firmly on the ground.
‘Forget last night, and yes please,’ she managed.
The owners and the staff of Loganaich Castle were as stunning as the castle itself. Shanni had expected some sort of institution. There’d be kindly staff, she’d thought, efficient but ordered. Here though there seemed to be chaos. It hit from the moment they drove into the castle foregate.
There were three small girls sitting on the front step, twin girls aged about six and a toddler between them. They were concentrating on very large, pink ice-cream cones.
At their feet was a dog. A weird dog. The dog was brown, white and furry, with long floppy ears, a stretched- out body about the size of a cocker spaniel, a tail that added another two feet in length and legs that were about six inches long. The dog was looking at the girls, adoration mixed with the intense concentration of a dog expecting a dropped ice-cream at any minute.
Pierce pulled up first and Shanni pulled up behind. They emerged from the cars, and the three girls on the steps waved their ice-creams. Dangerously.
‘Hi,’ said one of the two twins. ‘Are you Mr MacLachlan?’
‘Yes,’ said Pierce.
‘Susie said there was a daddy but not a mummy,’ the other twin said, and she looked at Shanni as if she’d been sold a pup. ‘She said the mummy died.’
‘I’m Shanni,’ Shanni offered. ‘I’m the…housekeeper. Is there anyone…?’
‘Hello.’ As if on cue, a woman came flying out the front door, looking flustered. She was dressed in soil-coated overalls and she was covered in mud. She flew down the steps, beaming, holding out her hands in greeting. ‘Pierce. And Ruby’s Shanni. Welcome.’ Then, as Pierce took an instinctive step back, she looked down at her hands and winced. ‘Whoops. I should have washed. Sorry. I’ve been digging spuds.’
‘Spuds?’
‘Isn’t that right? I’m American, but I’m learning.’ She wiped her hands on her overalls, collecting as much mud as she was discarding. ‘I’m Susie, Lady of Loganaich. Isn’t that a weird title? It makes me think I should be wandering the halls, moaning and clanking chains. Hamish has gone into town for supplies, so I’m the reception committee, but we’re having a bit of a disaster with the pumpkin patch. It’s too wet and we’ve rot. Rot this early spells ruin. I’m building it up with pea straw. Jodie’s making beds and Kirsty’s helping. She shouldn’t be, but she’s insisting. Which of you has the chicken pox?’
‘Bessy,’ Pierce said, sounding dazed, motioning into the car where Bessy sat in her baby seat, gazing out with interest. ‘She was miserable before the spots came out, but only three spots appeared and now she’s cheered up.’
‘But you’ve all had them,’ Susie said as the kids started piling out of the car. ‘You guys deserve a medal. Did it really itch?’
‘It was horrible,’ Abby said, tucking in behind Pierce and regarding the muddy Susie with caution.
‘Pierce said we were making him itch just to look at us,’ Wendy added.
‘Well, you guys have come to the right spot here for post-itch therapy,’ Susie declared. ‘This is the best place in the world for getting rid of any recalcitrant itch. You lie in the surf and soak for hours. You guys ever been to the beach?’
‘N…no,’ Wendy said, gripping Abby’s hand.
‘Hardly any kids have seen the beach when they come to us.’ A rangy young man dressed in work overalls and bearing a crowbar emerged from a side gate. Susie turned to him and waved. ‘Nick, the poxy tribe are here and they’ve never seen the beach. Shall we show them immediately?’ She glanced at the twins and the toddler, who was coated in pink. ‘After you’ve been armed with ice-creams, of course.’
