over for them. You’ll see the same arrangement at other places just here and there about the Western Highlands.’
‘You say he
‘He has a couple, I believe, but he’s all on his own and I heard tell that most of the house is shut up. He brings the boat over himself to see whether he wants a visitor. He mortally offended some of the local folk when first he came, because they went to call on him and were refused. I believe nobody signals now except the tradespeople.’
‘Surely he doesn’t row over to take in the shopping?’
‘As to that, I would hardly know. I never go near the place if I can help it. Eh, but I’m glad to have company in the house this night!’
‘When do you expect your husband to get back?’
‘The Dear knows! He was for Inverness and then on to Edinburgh. That will be tomorrow. He doesn’t know whether he’ll need to go back and spend another night in Inverness, but I’ll be hearing.’
She went on to give Laura a detailed description of the hardships of her own and her husband’s life owing to the evil machinations of the laird of Tannasgan. Laura listened without much interest. Her day at Garadh, spent mostly in the open air, her journey and now the warmth of Mrs Grant’s fire and the heavy supper she had eaten, had made her sleepy. Her long limbs demanded a bed, and her general comment on the diatribe would have been that she thought the lady did protest too much.
Mrs Grant’s tales of slights and petty tyrannies, of slanders and mischief-making were, however, apparently endless. She had an audience and was only too obviously prepared to make the most of it. It was two in the morning before the flow ceased and Mrs Grant proposed that they should retire for the night. She brought whisky and some brownish peat-stained water for a night-cap and then, when she had escorted Laura to her room, she said:
‘I’ll be bringing a can of hot water, so if you’ll just give me the key of your car I’ll get your luggage up to you.’
‘Oh, please don’t bother.’ said Laura. ‘I’ll get it myself.’
‘No, no! I couldn’t think of that. You just get yourself ready for bed and I’ll be along with it in two ticks.’
Laura handed over the car keys. In two minutes the hot water came and, before she had finished washing, her suitcase was deposited at the door and Mrs Grant said goodnight, adding:
‘You’ll not need to mind the wean if you hear her crying. She’ll soon drop off again.’
Thankfully Laura fell into bed. It was a very comfortable bed and she was asleep immediately. In the ordinary way she needed very little sleep, but on this particular morning she did not wake until eight. The rain was over and the sun was shining. She did not know whether to get up or whether there was any prospect of early tea, but this problem was soon solved, for her hostess came in with a tray. On it were a large cup of very strong tea, milk, sugar and her keys. Breakfast would in half an hour, she was told, and there was another can of hot water at the door.
Breakfast was porridge, kippers and thick slices of bread and butter, reinforced by bapps, scones and a home- made sultana loaf. Laura did full justice to it, thanked her hostess and hoped that her man would soon be home. There was no sign of the child, but this did not disappoint Laura, who was no baby-worshipper. She left the house – it was called Coinneamh Lodge on the direction-sign which fronted the road, she noted – at just after ten o’clock. It was a twenty-mile journey to Freagair and, as was her habit, when she had garaged the car she glanced at her mileage record.
Arithmetic was not Laura’s strong point, but her memory was excellent and she had checked her mileage at Garadh. According to her reckoning, the car had done thirty-two miles more than it should have done.
“Funny! So that’s why my keys didn’t come back until this morning!’ thought Laura. ‘Wonder where she went and what she wanted the car for? Dash it, she might have mentioned she was going to borrow it! I suppose her bringing it back was what woke me up this morning! Wonder whether the whisky was doped? I don’t usually sleep like that!’
Chapter 3
A Visit to An Tigh Mor
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THE girl in the hotel reception office at Freagair smiled sympathetically when Laura explained that she had been held up by the bad weather. She added that she would require her room that night, provided that it was still vacant, as she proposed to explore the countryside before returning to Inverness.
She was too early for lunch, so she bought herself a drink and, over that and a cigarette, she wrote a letter to Dame Beatrice describing her visit to Mrs Stewart at Garadh and summarising her subsequent experiences.
Lunch over, she left Freagair in the hired car (which seemed none the worse for its extra trip), in quest of a place where she could park it and go for a walk. Before she left the garage she checked her petrol and discovered that Mrs Grant must have had a supply at Coinneamh Lodge, for the tank contained more than it had held when Laura had checked it at Tigh-Osda before driving Mrs Grant home.
‘Oh, well, that’s something to her credit, and she certainly looked after me well. I wonder what on earth she
