The Posy Ring

In the early hours of the morning, in her crumbling castle, the prospect of his company seems comforting

Cal asks her: “Do you want me to come round tomorrow? I could be on the last ferry of the morning if I get a move on, leave early. I’ll see if I can get some mousetraps on the way.” “Are you sure? I mean, were you coming anyway?”

“Aye, I was. I said I was. I had things to do here, but I was planning to come back for the rest of the week. I can lend a hand. I know I’m a dealer and all that and you probably think I have ulterior motives...” “It had crossed my mind.”

“Well, if I’m honest, it had more than crossed my mind too. I’ve been dying to get a look inside Auchenblae since I was a lad and we used to think your granny was a witch, God forgive us. But I’m happy to help.”

“We could venture into the tower.” “Are you scared of it?”

“A bit. It seems so neglected. As though my grandmother didn’t even go there. I don’t know why I feel like that but I do. I’ll feel better when I’ve explored it.” “We’ll brave it together then.” “OK.”

Potentially unreliable

To tell the truth, she wishes he were here right now. Preferably in bed with her. For a moment, she wonders how he would react if she came right out with it. He would run a mile probably.

She reminds herself that he’s almost certainly more interested in her house and its contents than her body.

For two years previously, she had been in an on-off relationship with a history lecturer, separated from his wife and wary of committing himself fully to anybody new – or so he said.

Then she had seen him one day with one of the younger lecturers, sitting at a table in the Kelvingrove gallery, knee touching knee, hands entwined across the table. “I didn’t want to hurt you,” he had said. That had been last year. She had promised herself there and then that she would take a break from affairs of the heart.

She would concentrate on taking her business to the next level, whatever that might be, until the unexpected news of her inheritance and her unknown grandmother had thrown everything into confusion.

The last thing she needs now is another attractive but potentially unreliable man. All the same, in the early hours of the morning, in her crumbling castle, the prospect of his company seems comforting.

“See you then,” he says. “Oh, and by the way, I’ll be bringing somebody with me.”

“Who?” She has a pang of disappointment. His girlfriend maybe?

He chuckles into the phone, intimate, very close to her ear. “You’ll see,” he says. “And if you hear any more sinister noises, give me a ring. I don’t know what I can do from the back of the Botanics, but I’ll do what I can. Even if it means sending out the lifeboat.”

He rings off. She falls into a deep and dreamless sleep, and is woken only by the seabirds, screeching around the house in the early morning.

So many questions

In the morning, Daisy finds a selection of cleaning materials and starts on the downstairs rooms, mopping the floors, opening windows and letting in air and sunshine. On the seaward side of the house she finds a couple of lines strung between clothes poles.

She hauls some of the rugs outside and pegs them out for the breeze to freshen them. Just after her late breakfast or early lunch – a gallon of coffee and a slice of toast and marmalade, Daisy hears what she assumes is Cal’s car on the quiet road outside. There is no other traffic.

Auchenblae sits on a narrow lane between high gorse hedges, blooming more or less all year round, but beginning to be dazzling at this time of year.

Beyond the house, the potholed lane bends away from the sea again and narrows into a muddy track, leading only to the wishing tree.

She hears the creak of the iron gates as Cal swings them open before driving in and goes to open the door for him.

Her hair is pulled back with a rubber band and she is wearing a grubby blue and white striped apron that she found hanging on a peg in the kitchen. When she first put it on, she found a tissue in the pocket. It smelled faintly of lavender and she wondered if Viola had left it there.

She wishes she could speak to her grandmother. There are so many questions she would want to ask.

She has found the time to pick a big bunch of budding wild flowers, campion and bluebells and frothy ground elder, and she has stuck them in a cream stoneware jug on the oak table.

Rescue dog

Cal gets out of the car and goes round to open the passenger door. To her surprise, a shaggy, biscuit-coloured dog of indeterminate breed leaps out and starts to cavort around her, wagging his tail, playbowing in front of her.

The animal searches frantically for something to give her, finds a stick, seizes it and drops it at her feet, his tongue lolling, his head on one side.

“Meet Hector,” says Cal. “I told you I was bringing somebody with me.”

“I thought you meant a person!” “Hector, she thinks you’re not a person! I can assure you he is. In fact, he’s got more personality than most people I know. He’s a recycled dog. Very suitable.” “Recycled from what?”

“From the dog rescue place at Cardonald. He’d been dumped as a puppy. He looked as if he had mange, but it was just a flea allergy. Chucked out on the A77 somewhere south of Glasgow. Don’t you just love people, eh?” He looks very fierce all of a sudden.

Hector wags his tail frantically in agreement. He genuinely does love people. He comes to be petted, then rushes off in pursuit of his stick again. His sandy coat is rough and shaggy under her fingers.

“How are you with dogs? I should have asked you, but I figured he could stay in the car if you’re not a fan. I usually bring him with me. He does love the island so much.” “No, I’m fine with dogs. It’s fine.” Last night, hearing the thud downstairs and the rustle and scurry above her head, it had occurred to her that it would be good to have a dog. The flat in Glasgow has always been too small to house anything but the most undemanding pets: the odd gerbil or goldfish, when she was much younger.

More tomorrow.

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.