Page 176 of Wife After Wife
“Eliza’s at university now. Eddie’s eleven. Not sure either would be up for slaughtering wildlife, but I’m happy to put the wind up a few birds.”
Later, Harry made his way down to theRack’s offices, where Eliza was working again during the holidays. He found her perched on Terri’s desk. The two seemed close—he was pleased she was getting some top-notch experience, but their relationship made him uneasy.
“Hey, Dad!” Her smile always gave him a lift. “What are you doing here?”
“Something strange happened. Your aunt Margot’s invited us up to Scotland.”
“Why?”
“Wants to reconnect with her family. Megan’s invited too. Margot was always mean to Megan. I guess we should do as we’re told. It was always dangerous to say no to Margot.”
“I’d love to come! I’d like to get to know Aunt Margot.”
Good old Eliza. People were always innocent until proven guilty.
“And your cousin might be there—Mackenzie. She’s about your age.”
“Cool!”
•••
That night, the ghosts came back in a dream, muttering his name. Amorphous shapes, black shadows full of menace. There was a whisper: “It’s nearly time.”
He woke up with a shout.
“Harry, what on earth?” said Clare, switching on the bedside lamp.
“Bad dream.” He was sweating. He could sense them there, in the corners of his mind. He had a terrible sense of impending doom. “Will I ever be free of it?”
“Free of what?”
“The past.”
“You can’t undo the past, Harry. But talking about what’s bothering you might help.”
“I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Then go back to sleep, love. None of us is perfect; we all have stuff on our conscience.”
Eliza
Aunt Margot was as joyless as Dad had said. No wonder he didn’t bother keeping up with her. And her husband was like some grumpy Scottish cliché. Cousin Mackenzie had gone to Glasgow for a Young Scots for Independence rally, so Eliza didn’t even get to meet her.
The mountains looked beautiful covered in snow, but when you needed five layers of clothing to go out for a walk... actually, you needed five layers to stay inside too. The castle was freezing.
There had been only two bright spots so far. The first was seeing Dad and Megan pulling silly faces behind Margot’s back, just as they’d done as children, apparently. The other was seeing Dad dressed up in tweeds and a silly hat, all ready for the pheasant shoot.
Over breakfast, Aunt Margot had filled them in on who was coming to the shoot today. Most of them started withMc. Dad was looking forward to it, as were Megan and Charles.
How could they? Eliza, along with Clare and Eddie, couldn’t handle the idea of killing things. They’d be going for a walk instead. Aunt Margot had looked down her nose at their “silly” opinions, launching into a lecture on how pheasants that lived their lives free on the moors were a far more ethical source of food than chickens raised in factory farms. She had a point. But still, killing for fun? No.
People started arriving, most of them in cranky old Land Rovers with dogs in the back. They assembled on the graveled area in front of the castle, before setting off on foot, guns at their sides.
Eliza shuddered. Poor birds. She was sitting on a stone bench, the cold numbing her bottom, lacing up her walking boots. Clare and Eddie were still inside, searching out scarves and gloves.
There was the sound of an engine, and another Land Rover appeared, drawing to a halt at the path the shooters had taken. A woman leaped out, dressed in a kilt, a green jacket, and headscarf. From a distance she looked like the Queen. Could it be the Queen? The royals seemed to like it up here.
The woman turned toward her and called, “I’m late! Did they go this way?”
