Ten minutes later she was sitting in the living room with an empty tea cup on the low table in front of her. The room was warmed by a coal fire that glowed in the hearth. The shelves surrounding the fireplace were filled with books on Scottish history. In the far corner an upright piano quietly decayed, the wood splintering, four of the keys missing.
Edie had gone to fetch more tea and while she was gone Heather called Donna.
“I made it,” Heather said when her friend answered her phone.
“So, what’s Scotland like so far? Beautiful, I’m betting.”
“Raining too much to tell. I haven’t seen anything yet.”
Edie reappeared in the doorway with a fresh pot of tea in one hand and a tray of shortbread in the other.
“I’ve got to go,” Heather said down the phone. “Call you tomorrow.” She looked up at her landlady. “Sorry about that.”
“Och, it’s no bother. You didnae need to hang up for me.”
“It’s fine.” She pulled a book from the shelf and brought it over to the armchair. “You were telling me about the books.”
“This one’s a good one,” Edie said, pulling a volume from the shelf. “The History of the MacGregors. I ken that one well.”
“Really?” The mention of the name MacGregor made her smile fade.
“Aye, tells you everything about the clan for the last thousand years. A bit far fetched in places. I mean who believes all that nonsense about keys of destiny and all that?”
“Sorry, what?”
“Six keys made of silver, all marked with the letter M for MacGregor. The chronicles tell of them dragging people back in time if you can believe that rubbish.” The phone rang somewhere deep in the house. “Busy, busy.” She set the teapot down. “I better go answer that. “You’re welcome to have a read for yourself if you like, see what you make of it.”
“Thanks. I will.” Once Heather was alone she flicked through the book, stopping at random points, running over a blur of names and dates. About halfway through she reached the chapter about the first key. The sound of the wind outside died away, the tea went cold in the pot. She became lost in the book.
By the time Edie came back, she was nearing the end of the next chapter. “What do you think?” Edie asked. “Nonsense isn’t it?”
“I don’t know but it makes a great story. Keys that open doors through time? What a tale. I mean, I know the medieval writers were out there but that’s something else.”
“I tell you, I’ve often wondered what I’d do if I had a key like that, one that could open a door to the past. Know what I’d do?”
“What?”
“I’d go back to my childhood, see what it looked like second time round.”
“You think the key would let you choose what time you could go to? The writer here seems to suggest it’s random.”
Edie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe the key decides. When would you go to if you had the choice?”
“I don’t know,” Heather lied, getting to her feet. “Do you mind if I take this to read?”
“Of course not. Listen to me jabbering on when you want to get unpacked and washed up. Upstairs, third door on the right. Key’s already in there on the desk.”
“Not one of the keys of destiny is it?” Heather asked with a smile.
Edie laughed. “No, just for the room. See you in the morning, lass.”
“Good night, Mrs. MacDonald.”
“Please, call me Edie.”
“Good night then Edie.”
The room was pleasant enough. The bed covered in tartan blankets, a fire lit in the hearth. Outside she could see nothing, the rain was still lashing down. She closed the curtains on it and then began to unpack.
