‘Thanks,’ she said but he’d already gone. She waited a couple of minutes as the ice was easing her ankle, but her curiosity got the better of her and she decided to go and investigate the library. It sounded very grand. She got to her feet easily enough but her ankle was unhappy and she didn’t want to aggravate it more, so she virtually hopped up the hallway, moving from one piece of ancient furniture to the next for support.
She pushed open the door. The room was dark. She felt for a switch and found an old-fashioned metal one. Above her a chandelier sparkled into life. She blinked at the brightness. The initial dazzle soon faded as she noticed the many missing crystals and damaged state the light fitting was in. Looking around the room, she saw that the chandelier wasn’t the only thing with bits missing. Some faded but fancy-looking chairs huddled around a redundant fireplace. The room was lined with dark wood bookcases; there were a few rows of dusty encyclopaedias and a row of cloth books that she’d never heard of but there wasn’t a single normal book in sight. At one end of the room was a large built-in cabinet in the same dark wood; so dark it was almost black. She made her way towards it and was grateful to grip its ornate beaded edge for support. That was until with a small creaking sound the beading came away in her hand.
‘Shit,’ she muttered as she held on tight with her other hand. This place was a death trap. She tugged open a drawer, which was full of papers that were keen to escape their confines and seemed to burst free. ‘Bloody hell!’ She rammed them back, popped in the piece of beading and shut the drawer quickly. Bottles weren’t going to be in there anyway. Her mind was a mush. She opened the cabinet-style door below and was met by the smell of old alcohol; like it had seeped into the very structure of the cabinet. She crouched down as best she could and peered inside. There was something that looked like a shiny silver fire extinguisher, a glass in the shape of a skull and a bottle of whisky. She pulled out the bottle. A bit of rummaging in the other side of the cabinet uncovered a tumbler. Usually Liv wasn’t a spirits drinker but Fraser had said it was good for shock and she’d definitely had one of those. She poured herself a small measure of the honey-coloured liquid. She gave it a sniff. It smelled a bit like TCP.
Leaning against the end of the cabinet she looked around. It was a big room and quite chilly but that was likely because her wet clothes were sticking to her. There were high ceilings and ornate cornicing, which was still pretty, even if some bits were missing. She would have loved to have seen it when the shelves were full of books and could imagine this was quite a grand room in its day. Straight ahead was a large window and a padded window seat with cushions. She wondered what the view was like. All she could see out of the wet window now was darkness. She left the safety of the cabinet and hobbled over to the window and sat down. There were large white-painted wooden panels on either side of the window that she supposed were shutters.
Liv swirled the liquid in the glass and watched it adhere to the side. She peered through the window and knocked back the whisky. The harsh liquid hit the back of her throat, making her gasp. With that a hairy ginger face loomed out of the darkness.
‘Argh!’ she yelled as best she could as the whisky seemed to have stolen her voice.
She heard the thud of Fraser’s feet before he came flying into the library. ‘What did you do now?’ he asked, scanning her and the room.
She pointed at the window, which was being licked clean by a very large pink tongue.
7
Liv was laughing now she could see the hairy face was the young cow they’d told her about. It looked soaked as it methodically cleared the rain off the window. She looked at Fraser. He didn’t seem amused.
‘It’s just Ginger,’ he said.
‘I know that now,’ she said, her voice sounding all hoarse thanks to the whisky.
‘How much have you had to drink?’ He glared at her accusatorially.
‘One tiny measure,’ she croaked. ‘And it wasn’t very nice anyway.’
‘That is a Highland Malt. It’s one of the best whiskies made. It’s fifteen years old.’
Liv screwed up her nose. ‘Then it’s probably gone off.’ That would explain the taste. She stuck her tongue out in a futile attempt to get rid of the aftertaste.
‘And they call us heathens,’ he muttered as he shook his head.
She didn’t like his attitude. ‘What have I done now?’
‘Never mind. Let’s get you to bed. To your own bed,’ he said carefully. ‘Then I’ll round up Ginger and tuck her in for the night.’
He walked out leaving Liv to push herself up onto one leg and hobble from the room. ‘Are you coming?’ he called.
‘Bloody hell. Have some patience, would you? I’ve knackered my ankle.’
His head appeared around the door. ‘Did you want a hand?’
‘No thank you,’ she said as she clung to the cabinet and hopped her way to join him at the door. She didn’t want anything from Fraser Douglas. ‘I can manage just fine,’ she added.
‘So I see,’ he said and he left her.
Liv followed him out of the room and turned left, past a reception desk to where Fraser was waiting at the bottom of a sweeping staircase. Despite the worn patches on its carpet, it was seriously impressive.
‘This way,’ he said, taking the small steps two at a time until he was soon at the top.
Liv watched with her mouth open. ‘Do you not have a lift?’
‘No. The main building is seventeenth century with Victorian additions. They weren’t so big on lifts back then.’
‘Thanks for the history lesson. I’ll just crash on the sofa.’
‘What sofa?’ he asked.
