The Posy Ring

Later, fortified by sandwiches and wine, Daisy decides she’ll have a shower to wash the dust of Auchenblae out of her hair, then a siesta and then maybe a walk down to the seashore before dinner. Such luxury.

On her way back to her room, she suddenly remembers about the curiosity cabinet, the embroidered box that Cal had mentioned, and wonders if it is in the residents’ lounge. She had forgotten to ask Mrs Cameron about it but she ventures in, anyway.

This room too is quiet, although there is an elderly man sitting in the most comfortable chair, in a patch of sunlight, ostensibly reading a newspaper. She sees that he is fast asleep, his glasses sliding down his nose and the paper balanced precariously on the edge of his knee.

He is at the far end of the room, and she catches sight of a display cabinet, just inside the door, well away from the sunlight. She tiptoes into the room, so as not to wake him.

The casket is stunningly beautiful and – she immediately realises – probably worth a fortune. Cal is right about it. She has only ever seen its like in museums.

It is a Jacobean box, heavily embroidered in raised work, the colours a little faded, but still good, glowing subtly in this mercifully dark part of the room. It stands on tiny gilded feet and the panels seem to be telling a story.

Many of these caskets depicted biblical stories but she isn’t sure which one this is. A woman in flowing blue robes stands amid growing things, a profusion of flowers and grasses and ears of corn.

Daisy sees that they are the flowers of this island: primroses, violets, foxgloves, wild roses. All seasons in one. There are birds: swans and seagulls and swallows. She recognises a pair of oyster-catchers. Down in one corner, there is even a tiny mouse.

And there is a house, embroidered in grey silk with mica fragments for windows. With a start of surprise and excitement, she sees that the house has a square tower with a long rectangular building to one side. It fills one whole panel of the casket. Surely it must be Auchenblae?

Various objects are arranged on shelves in the glass cabinet: a shuttle, a lace collar, a fan, a pincushion. There is a hand mirror and a coral teether, a heap of pebbles and shells and swansdown.

There is a scrap of yellowed paper with faded handwriting on it but she can’t read what is written there.

She realises immediately that these must be the contents of the cabinet, even though there are no labels, no interpretations, no notices telling her what she is seeing and how she ought to think about these things. She can think whatever she likes.

She notices that they are all women’s things, and is excited to realise that this woman must once have lived at Auchenblae, must have sat before its fires, lived her life in its rooms, walked in its garden, and threaded her way down the path to the seashore that she and Cal had walked that very morning.

How strange, strange.

She must have said the words aloud, because the elderly man wakes up with a start and just catches his newspaper in time. It’s Mr Cameron, the hotel owner. He smiles over at her.

“Caught in the act,” he says. “Sleeping on the job. Don’t tell Elspeth, will you?”

The hotel is a family business, run by the Camerons, their son, George, and his wife Laura. The older couple have a small apartment at the back of the hotel, while George and Laura live in a bungalow next door. Laura is heavily pregnant with their second child, George is perpetually harassed, and the senior Camerons are helping out.

“We keep hoping to retire, but it never seems to happen,” says Mr Cameron with a sigh. “I think Elspeth likes it that way.”

“I was just looking at the casket. It’s so beautiful. Aren’t you lucky to have it?”

“It’s only on loan, lass. Donal Mcneill is the rightful owner. But I suspect it did come from your house.”

“Yes. So I was told this morning.” “Were you? Oh – Cal. Aye. Elspeth said he was sniffing about.”

She can see that Mr Cameron is not just as charmed by Cal as Elspeth. Which seems significant.

Perhaps Cal is the kind of man women lose their heads over, even older women. He certainly has charisma.

“It was in the Mcneill family for years. she thinks. How very

They’ve been in that cottage down at Ardachy for about a hundred years, and the wee box was always there, I believe.

“But I’d lay bets it originally came from your house. They used to call it the ‘old laird’s house’ you know.”

“Really?” She’s intrigued.

“Aye, lass. And this is the new laird’s house, or it was until they turned it into a hotel. Auchenblae was a Mcneill stronghold for centuries, but then in the 18th and 19th centuries there were huge upheavals.

“The house changed hands several times until it was bought by the Neilsons.

“Viola’s grandfather or great-grandfather maybe. They were industrialists of some sort, seeking an island retreat like so many of those who used to come here. And maybe there was a family connection since the names are similar. Mcneill and Neilson. But maybe it’s just coincidence.”

“I know so little about all this. I must try and find out more.”

“I don’t know the details, but there are people on the island, people born and bred here, who could tell you all about it.

“You’ll need to speak to Donal Mcneill for one. He knows a lot of the island history.

“Viola’s father was Hugh Neilson. He was wounded in the Great War but lived for long enough to have a child. They’re all buried in the cemetery at Keill, along the coast. Your forebears.”

“I’ll have to go and have a look.”

“You will. Do you have plans house?”

She sighs. “I’m not sure. I’ll have to think about it.”

“You wouldn’t consider living here, on the island?”

“Oh I might consider it, but whether can afford it is another matter.

“My grandmother left me the house but not much in the way of ready cash, unfortunately. Not when everything is paid up.”

More tomorrow. for the

The Posy Ring, first in the series The Annals of Flowerfield, is written by Catherine Czerkawska and published by Saraband. It is priced at £8.99.

I

She can see that Mr Cameron is not just as charmed by Cal as Elspeth is. Which seems significant