Oh, to live up here all the time. She imagined a little cottage down there by the river. Just her and Caroline and a Scottish Ryan Reynolds, bearded, kilt on permanent standby, ax in hand, forever chopping wood for her to watch. The thought made her smile. If she was dreaming why not dream big?
Make it a hunky medieval warrior fresh from slaughtering baddies and saving orphans, come to ravish her by a roaring log fire before singing her to sleep with some simple Highland ditty. On the breeze she seemed to hear the lullaby again. “I found the trail of the mountain mist.”
Her thoughts went back to the key. It was as if it had already unlocked things in her mind, things she hadn’t known were there. A desire to get out of the city, to live somewhere peaceful, at least for a little while.
The desire for a family too. That had been thoroughly hidden away at the back of her mind. To have a family you needed a man. To get a man you needed something desirable about you. She had zip, nada, a great big zero.
“All I’ve got is you, Reg,” she said, turning to look at the car which responded by ticking over quietly. She turned away from the view reluctantly, starting the engine on the second attempt and then continuing on her way.
The roads grew narrower still, branches encroaching the verges, leaves slapping her wing mirrors, potholes starting to appear.
After ten minutes in which the road surface continued to crumble and the trees grew even closer, she was about to stop and write a strongly worded letter of complaint to the Google Maps route guidance team, certain she was heading down a dead end straight into a cabin out of a horror movie.
The only ax-wielder down a road like this would definitely not be a Highland hunk. Her fuel guage was dangerously low once more and if she kept going much longer she wouldn’t have a choice about going back to the main roads, she’d be stuck in the middle of nowhere with a long walk to a gas station.
“Right, I’m turning around,” she said as the suspension bottomed out in the deepest pothole yet. Just as she said it the trees fell away and she was out in the open, three quarters of the way up a mountain side. Up on the peak the mist had cleared -I found the trail of the mountain mist- and there was the castle, looking just like it did in the flyer.
The sight took her breath away. It was half Disney, half Dracula, all turrets and crows with ivy growing up the sides. If a princess had emerged at a window to sing to the birds she wouldn’t have been surprised.
There was a small parking lot to the left hand side of the drawbridge and she turned into it, amazed the car had made it. The engine groaned when she turned it off. Whether it would start again remained to be seen.
Hers was the only car there and when she got out and approached the drawbridge there was no sign of anyone. In fact, there were no signs at all. No opening times, notoilets this way, not even agift shop doesn’t take cardsordon’t litter.
If it wasn’t for her car she might have thought she’d gone back in time. The only noise was her feet crunching on the gravel and the crows cawing high up in the sky.
She stopped at the drawbridge for a moment. She had two choices. See if they’d let her in early or camp up and wait for tomorrow. Camping with no food in the car wasn’t that appealing even with the view of the mountain ranges to enjoy.
Her stomach was already rumbling with hunger. She had to see if the place would let her in, if only to eat something. She had about three coins left in the whole world. Hopefully it would be enough.
She crossed the drawbridge and stopped in front of the huge oak iron studded doors. She pushed. Neither of them opened. Above her, she could see the murder holes directly above her head and she felt glad she hadn’t traveled back in time. It would be a formidable task to try and take a castle this grand.
An idea occurred to her when she saw the keyhole in the door. Returning to the car, she retrieved the silver key and tried it in the keyhole. It didn’t even turn. “Not for that door then,” she said out loud, pocketing it and trying to work out what to do next.
“What would the mailman do with parcels?” she asked. “They have to go somewhere.”
She almost laughed when she realized. There was a door to her left that was open. She’d spent so long looking at the grand entrance that she hadn’t even noticed the modern door hidden in the shadows of the tunnel that led to the huge main gate.
She stepped inside, calling out, “Hello,” as she went. After the bright sunshine the gloom of the interior made it hard to see a thing. Something moved ahead of her and she looked up at it as a voice spoke in a strong Scottish accent.
“We’re closed. Come back tomorrow.”
Chapter Four
The figure came into focus. It was a woman in her late seventies, her hair a shock of white that made her look like a ghost. It was only when she switched on the desk lamp beside her that Jessica was certain she wasn’t dealing with a spirit of the castle.
“Did you nae hear me?” the woman asked. “We’re closed. You’re breaking and entering.”
“The door was open.”
“Aye, to let the air in. That doesnae mean any Tom, Dick, or Sassenach can come waltzing in here like she’s the Laird’s wifey. Get thee gone before I call the police.”
Jessica held a hand up. “Listen, just give me a minute. I’m not here to steal from you. There’s no need to call the police.”
The woman’s hand was already on the phone. “I’ll dae it. Watch me.”
“Someone sent me this,” Jessica said, reaching into her pocket and bringing out the key. “Any idea what it is?”
“What’s that?” the woman asked, her expression changing to shock before the scowl returned. “No one here sent you that. Now, what is it you be wanting?”
