Entwined

  “York.”

  “Why would we want to go back there?”

  “Because I know what we have been sent here to do.”

  ******

  CHAPTER 32

  Duncan put his hand to the door knob and turned it. With a gentle push it swung open. He turned to Eilidh, a broad grin filling his face.

  “You were right,” she said, smiling back. “What made you so sure Shannon hadn’t locked the door?”

  “Because she didn’t think she had anything to fear,” he said simply, making his way through the narrow corridor into the kitchen.

  It felt incredibly strange; being there in what had been his home. He resisted the urge to call out for his Ma and shook himself as an image of his Pa coming through the kitchen door with a glass of whisky in his hand filled his mind.

  “I understand how you feel,” Eilidh said, coming to stand beside him.

  Duncan shrugged, shaking the distraction from his mind.

  “I’m going to Pa’s study. Do you want to come or would you rather see what you can find in the kitchen?”

  “I’ll come with you,” she said following him down the hall.

  “He used to keep them in here,” Duncan said, moving purposefully toward a door at the end of his father’s office.

  “I always wondered what was through that door,” Eilidh said, watching with interest as he turned the handle. It swung gently open to reveal a long thin space, much like a large cupboard.

  “Your Pa liked his books,” she said, staring wide-eyed at a neat row of leather bound books and journals on a shelf.

  “Aye, he was obsessively insistent that both Ma and I learnt the art of reading and writing,” he paused thoughtfully and then turned to face Eilidh. “Who taught you?”

  “Marta taught me,” she said, casting her eyes longingly over the hundreds of leather spines staring out at her from the book case.

  “Did you much enjoy the lessons?” he asked.

  Eilidh smiled gently up at him. “Aye, Duncan, I enjoyed them very much.”

  “Would you like some of my Pa’s books?”

  Eilidh looked at him with surprise. “Do we have space in the cart for them?”

  “Not all of them, no, but I am sure we can find the space for one or two. That is, if you were wanting them.”

  “Oh, Duncan, that would be wonderful. I adore books,” she cried passionately. “Thank you.”

  “I thought as much,” he said, slipping the bag off his shoulders.

  “You did?”

  He smiled at her tenderly.

  “How?”

  He laughed. “When you first took me to see the lorry, I couldn’t help but notice the fair bit of space you had dedicated to boxes labeled books.”

  “Oh,” she said, somewhat shocked. “I didn’t collect them for myself. They were for the villagers, a treat, something to lighten the evenings over the long winter months.”

  “I know,” he said, sliding his arms around her and moving his hand to the back of her head. Cupping it gently he drew her toward him and covered her mouth with his in a gentle loving kiss.

  When at last he released her she stepped back and stared up at him with wide questioning eyes.

  “Do you think me foolish?”

  “Foolish?” he frowned.

  “Aye. To have used valuable space in the lorry for books?”

  “Quite the contrary. I am just sorry that you will not have the opportunity to benefit from them.”

  “But I told you - they weren’t for me.”

  “I know that,” he said giving her a curious stare. “I don’t think I have ever known you do anything for yourself.”

  She lowered her eyes and shrugged.

  “I kept Amber,” she said, nodding at the dog that was busily sniffing at the skirting boards for traces of rodents. “That was very much something I wanted to do.”

  Duncan slid his hands into his trouser pockets and stood considering her comment for a moment.

  “That was one thing, Eilidh. One small thing that you did for yourself. Most people do most things for themselves, with little or no thought for others.”

  Her shoulders slumped and she lowered her head. She felt uncomfortable by his observation, as though she were inferior or incapable; lacking even in the basic instinct that made humanity what it was. Shannon had berated her, bullied her throughout their childhood for just this thing. Her heart sank and a sick feeling rose in her stomach. Did Duncan see her as the pathetic little creature Shannon had?

  “I think I will see if there is anything useful in the kitchen,” she said, turning sharply away from him.

  “Oh,” he said, surprised by her sudden change of mind. “Well, I’ll not be long here. I think what I am looking for is under this floorboard,” he said, giving a firm but soft stamp of his foot to indicate the spot.

  Eilidh didn’t seem to hear him and with a hurried rustle of her skirts she turned and fled from the room.

  He watched her go, scratching his head and wondering what had caused her to leave so suddenly, but then his eye traveled to the floor and the board he had to lift. He wasn’t even certain that he would find what he was looking for, but as he crouched on the floor and levered the board loose he discovered the old pouch was still where his Pa had left it.

  Carefully replacing the board he made his way back through the hall and up the wide staircase to what had been his room. He paused outside the room, wanting to open the door yet afraid to do so. He reached out his hand and turned the handle, a small push and the door swung gently open. His guess had been correct. The room remained untouched. A round-topped chest was tucked neatly underneath the small window that looked out over the front garden, a square table with a single unlit candle stood to the right of the bed.

  Stiffening his resolve he moved slowly through the room, his eyes drawn to the window, he rested his forehead on the cool glass and let his eyes wander out. They saw nothing, for the night sky was pitch black, but in his mind he saw it all.

  He had his back to her, and for a moment she wondered if he had fallen asleep, standing there with his head resting heavily on the pane of glass.

  “Duncan?” she said, gently sliding her arm around his waist.

  He lifted his head and turned to her, his face tired and drawn.

  “It’s too late to travel now. We will stay for the night.”

  Eilidh nodded. “We can finish packing the cart in the morning. There’s no one here, this is as safe as any place to rest for the night.”

  “Where do you suppose everyone is?”

  “I don’t know, Duncan, I really don’t know.”

  He forced a smile and turned back to face the window. “I’ll sleep in here,” he said, turning briefly to nod at his old bed. “You can have Ma and Pa’s room.”

  “Aye, that would be best,” she said, turning to leave the room.

  “Eilidh?” he said.

  She stopped and turned to face his back.

  “Thank you,” he said simply.

  She wanted to ask what for but just at the moment she wasn’t sure he would be able to tell her.

  “Good night, Duncan,” she said, leaving the room and crossing the hall. Amber bounced up the stairs to join her in the master bedroom, and very soon she and the dog settled to sleep under the thick covers on the bed.

  The early morning mist burnt off quickly to leave a hot, clear summer’s day. Duncan pulled a clean pair of trousers and a cream cotton shirt from the chest. As he pulled the shirt over his head he caught the smell of his mother. He froze, for a moment confused. His head snapped toward the door, expecting to see her smiling face in its frame, but there was no one there. He lifted the woolen trousers to his face and breathed deeply. Stooping, he lifted the round top of the chest to look inside. A pile of neatly-folded shirts and trousers lay where his mother’s hands had left them; her loving, gentle hands that had cleaned and cared for him his entire life. He raised his foot and in one smooth action kicked the lid of
the chest closed. He was here to do a job, he understood that, but what he wished most desperately was to know if his parents were safe. To have some word, some sign that they had made it to the village, because without it he wasn’t at all sure he could go on. Lifting the chest from his bedroom floor he carried it down the stairs into the kitchen.

  Eilidh was dressed and packed. She had loaded the cart, hitched and saddled the horses, and both her and Amber were by all accounts ready to leave. Duncan, on the other hand, couldn’t decide if he was eager to get away from the place or terrified of leaving it. The farm, this house, was the one last link to his family, the one final thread that he wanted so desperately to preserve. Yet the memories hurt, and when they surfaced it felt for all the world as though someone had placed their hand around his heart and squeezed so hard that the pain rendered him breathless. Moving the chest into the cart he went to stand beside Eilidh and Amber.

  “Are you ready?” he asked, turning to face the house, his arms folded across his chest.

  “Aye, are you?”

  He didn’t answer, he stood in silence staring at the house and then, without warning, he strode purposefully toward the front door, opened it, and walked inside. Moments later he returned to the door, and this time stood for a while in its frame, looking out at Eilidh, his eyes clouded and lost in thought. With a deep breath and a clear resolve he finally moved through the frame, reached behind him for the handle, and pulled the door closed one last time.

  “Let’s go,” he said, climbing onto the bench beside Eilidh and Amber.

  His hands took the reins and with a gentle flick they rolled slowly forwards, down the hillside towards the winding path they knew so well.

  “Are you alright?” Eilidh asked, turning to catch a last glimpse of the main house as they rounded the first bend.

  “I am cursed,” he said, keeping his eyes fixed on the dusty road ahead.

  “What do you mean?” she asked, genuinely curious.

  “Memories, Eilidh, bloody memories. I have them etched into my damn mind.”

  “They will fade with time,” she said, laying her hand gently on his arm.

  “But that’s just the point. To live with them is an existence worse than hell, but without them my existence is meaningless.”

  “You will learn to live with them,” she said simply, resting her hand on Amber’s back and turning her attention to the windy path ahead.

  They drove on in silence until they reached the outer boundaries of the town where Duncan drew the horse to a stop on the side of the path.

  Amber sprang immediately to life. “Sit,” Eilidh said, grabbing a firm hold of her collar. “What’s wrong?” she asked turning to Duncan as he jumped down from the cart.

  “I am worried we might be recognized in the town.”

  “Is there any other way we can get to Berwick?” she asked.

  “No, not without going back on ourselves. I should have thought about this before we left the farm,” he said, pulling three woolen blankets from the heavily laden cart. “Put one over Amber and wrap the other one around yourself. Try and cover your head with it,” he said, dropping two of the blankets on the bench beside Eilidh.

  “Won’t we look a little bit suspicious?”

  “Aye, we might well, especially since it is so warm, but I’d rather look suspicious and have folk wonder who we are than destroy all doubt by parading our identity.”

  “I think we might be taking too big a risk.”

  He shook his head and pulled himself back onto the cart. “We don’t have much choice, Eilidh. I’m not taking us back to the farm.”

  They drew the blankets up over their heads. Duncan tightened his hold on the reins and with a quick flick, guided the horse slowly down the hill. He stiffened as tidy thatched roofs came into focus. Eilidh lowered her head and cast her eyes to the ground. The noise and bustle of the busy town grew closer, the smell of peat fires, stoked for the cooking pots, filled their noses. These were the sounds and smells of home, the familiar, friendly notes that should have welcomed them; instead they stole through the streets like villains with their heads covered and their identities cloaked. When at last they were clear of the familiar paths and the blankets had dropped from their heads they both wept silently for the life they had long since lost.

  They stopped eventually at a small inn outside Chirnside to rest and water the horses and Amber. Eilidh’s stomach rumbled with the smell of hot food that wafted from the building and she longed to follow her nose and dive into a warming bowl of beef stew.

  “You hungry?” Duncan said, as if reading her mind.

  “Aye,” she replied, hoping her stomach hadn’t betrayed her.

  “Can you manage Amber and the horses on your own for a while?” he said, handing her the two sets of reins.

  She took them without question and watched as Duncan sprinted off around the side of the inn. He returned a few minutes later with two sacks slung over his shoulder.

  “What have you got there?” she asked, guessing it was fresh food of some kind by the fervent attempt Amber was making to break the hold she had on her.

  Duncan hoisted the bags up into the cart and turned to Eilidh with a clear and very definite smile.

  “Food,” he said, making no attempt to hide his enthusiasm.

  She smiled back at him, relieved that the darkness was lifting from his spirit.

  “For us or Amber?” she said, with a laugh as the dog gave another concerted effort to free herself from Eilidh’s hold.

  “Both,” he replied, grabbing Amber’s collar. “You hold the horses and I’ll keep hold of this one. I think of the three she is the most troublesome right now.”

  “That’s only because she is hungry. We’ve fed the horses but you, me and Amber haven’t eaten in nearly forty eight hours.”

  “Eilidh, throw me that line of rope please,” he said, nodding at the back of the cart.

  “Aye, what do you need it for?”

  “To tether your dog before she rips my arm off,” he replied, with a deep rumbling laugh.

  He caught the rope with his left hand and slipped its end under the collar before knotting it and hooking it around the trunk of a tree in the courtyard of the inn.

  “That should keep her out of trouble for a while,” he said, taking a pair of horse’s reins from Eilidh. Moving the horse to the front of the cart, he put the harness on. Pausing, he turned back to Eilidh. “Has Amber had a drink?”

  “Aye, she fought the horses for the trough and she got her fair share.”

  “We’ll stop for the night just south of Berwick. If you and Amber can hold your hunger for a few more hours, I promise you both a meal the likes of which you will never forget,” pausing a moment, “I know a field where there is some good grazing land and a clear stream.”

  “How do you know of this place, Duncan?”

  “It belongs to my Pa,” he said with a grin.

  “Oh,” she replied, clearly surprised. “I didn’t know you Pa had other land.”

  “No, no one but me did.”

  “Not even your ma?”

  He shook his head, still grinning. “Especially not Ma.”

  “Why?”

  “Because my Pa won the land gambling and Ma didn’t much approve of him gambling.”

  “Didn’t you feel guilty, keeping it from her?”

  “No. It was news she wouldn’t have wanted to hear,” he said, untying Amber’s lead and handing it to Eilidh.

  “My Ma and Pa never kept anything from each other,” she said climbing onto the bench at the front of the cart.

  “Are you sure?”

  She turned to him, a look of hurt lingering deep within her eyes. “Aye, of course I am sure. What makes you ask?”

  He shrugged and tied the second horse to the back of the cart.

  “Just that I don’t think you can be sure that you know everything about a person,” he said, pausing with his hands on the side of the cart. “No matter how close you
might think they are.”

  “I don’t agree,” Eilidh said, settling Amber beside her. “I think people should be honest with each other about everything.”

  “Even if that honesty means sharing things you know will cause pain?” he asked, joining her on the bench and taking the reins in his hands.

  Eilidh nodded.

  “Aye, Duncan, even if it means hurting someone, because if you love someone, really love them, then you wouldn’t have any secrets that would cause them pain.”

  The cart rolled slowly away from the inn and Duncan guided the horse back onto the main road to Berwick.

  “My Ma and Pa love each other more than anyone I’ve ever known, yet my Pa has secrets. I had secrets about Pa which I kept from Ma because I didn’t want to hurt her. They were not my secrets yet I still kept them,” he argued.

  She went quiet beside him, her hand resting gently on Amber’s collar in case she should catch a whiff of the food in the back of the cart. He knew he had confused her and he understood the conflict his comment had caused her, but he also knew it was a conversation they had to have, because he had an uncomfortable feeling that before too long he was going to have to keep a secret from her to avoid causing her pain.

  Duncan steered the cart ever further eastwards until eventually they reached the sandy shores of the North Sea.

  “It’s only another couple of miles south of here,” he shouted above the wind.

  Conversation was near impossible and neither of them bothered to speak much until the wind dropped back and the sea was little more than a thin line on the horizon.

  “Have you been to this land often?” Eilidh asked, as Duncan drew the cart to a stop beside a wooded area about a mile and a half off the main track.

  “A few times. Pa didn’t come here often and I think he rather wished he didn’t own it.”

  “I can understand that,” she said, casting a critical eye over the dense growth. “Although it looks fertile enough.”

  “Oh aye, it’s fertile alright, and it would have made an excellent farm… But as Ma didn’t know about it there wasn’t much Pa could do with it,” he said, jumping down from the cart.