‘I also wanted to see if I could find more pictures of parties from the past to use as inspiration for the décor this year. And I thought maybe if there were some good ones, we could blow them up as posters and have them around for people to look at. Or even make some fun postcards or something. Tie the tradition to the past,’ Deb said, thoughtfully. ‘This is great, but not entirely what I was after.’
‘That’s a nice idea.’ Anna went to one of the glass-fronted cabinets and opened it. ‘I think there are some photo albums in here. Yes, look.’ She brought out a few large red leather-bound albums and laid them on the table. ‘These, I’ve seen before. I know they’re from the sixties through to the eighties, so that would be Hal’s parents. Now… if you wanted to go back further than that, there are some others here, too. Ah, and maps.’
‘Ah, look at the dresses. These are fantastic.’ Deb opened up the photo albums and started flicking through the pages. ‘Really retro. Look at this suit with the shoulder pads this lady’s wearing.’ She pointed to one of the photos in which a woman, probably in her thirties, wore an emerald green skirt suit with a double-breasted jacket with large gold buttons.
‘Ooh. Very Wall Street.’ Anna smiled. ‘Here, these are albums from earlier. Turn of the century, there.’ She placed a smaller, grey cardboard album on the table. ‘Won’t be colour pictures, of course. Sadly.’
‘Mmm.’ Deb flicked it open and smiled. ‘Ah, this is perfect! Look, there are all sorts of grand occasions here. Dinners, people dancing.’ She showed Anna a series of black and white photos of ladies in ballgowns and men in Scottish formal dress doing what appeared to be Scottish country dancing. ‘This is wonderful! Do you think Hal would mind if I used these? Can I take some pictures with my phone?’
‘Don’t see why not, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.’ Anna went back to the cabinet as Deb snapped some pictures of someof the old party photos from the different albums. ‘You know that the Laird who built the folly up on Gyle Head used to have some big parties up there. I mean, that’s what that whole project was all about – entertaining his London friends. You should try and find pictures of those parties. I heard they were wild.’
‘I bet. There are a few details online. I know what people did in those days to entertain their social circles. The rich, that is. It wasn’t everyone that could afford that kind of thing.’ Deb raised an eyebrow.
‘Indeed. Ah, this is interesting. Look at this old map. You can see Gyle Head here, before the old Laird – Donald Cameron, that was – built the folly.’ Anna tapped her fingernail on the map as she slid it over the table to Deb. ‘Look. There were four cottages there.’
‘How weird. They’re not there now.’ Deb looked at the date on the map: 1900.
‘Huh. Wait, there are other maps in here. Look, this one is 1940. No cottages.’ Anna passed it to Deb.
‘What happened to them?’ Deb wondered aloud. ‘I mean, presumably they had people living in them? Or, maybe they were derelict?’
‘I don’t know.’ Anna frowned. ‘If Hal was here, we could ask him. Wait, let’s see if there were any Chamberlain notes at the time. Where did you get that one?’
Deb pointed to one of the shelves on the right-hand side of the room. Anna went over and ran her finger gently along the gold-stamped spines of the folios and notebooks.
‘What year are we looking for? When did he build it?’ Anna asked, over her shoulder. ‘If we can narrow it down between 1900 and 1940, that would be helpful.’
‘Ummm… I remember seeing something online. Wait, let me look.’ Deb went back to the original article she’d read, and found the date. ‘1935. The inter-war years.’
‘Right. Let’s see… 1930, 1932… 1935. Here.’ Anna took down a black leather-bound folio. ‘Mackenzie Smith was the Chamberlain to Donald Cameron. Let’s see what he has to say.’ She flicked through the pages, shaking her head. ‘I can’t see anything. It’s all local disputes, castle repairs… oh, wait. Here we are.’
She read aloud from the record:
‘Building work on Gyle Head progresses well. Laird Cameron has employed a team of architectural experts for the construction of the folly. The four cottages that stood in the area have been successfully dismantled, and the families evicted. The stone will be repurposed in the new building.’
‘Bloody hell.’ Deb was shocked. ‘Evicted?’
‘Yeah. And he doesn’t seem that bothered, does he? Old Mackenzie Smith? It seems like they were most bothered about not wasting the stone that the cottages were built of.’
‘That’s outrageous.’
‘Awful. Listen to this,’ Anna continued, her brows knitting together as she read:
‘The tenants have been moved on successfully for the most part. The Laird notes for the record that all four families – McKinley, Dalgliesh, McCarron and Sutherland – were long-standing tenant families, and will be missed.’
‘Will be missed? Is he for real?’ Deb countered, angrily. ‘Wait. Did you say Sutherland?’
‘Yes. McKinley, Dalgliesh, McCarron and Sutherland.’ Anna read the list out again.
‘That’s my name,’ Deb said, frowning. ‘1935…’
‘Interesting coincidence.’ Anna shot her a look.
Surely not, Deb’s mind began to race. It was so unlikely. And yet… she thought about Grandma Elise. What had happened to her.
Deb had a sudden, strange feeling in the pit of her stomach. ‘My grandmother was evicted from her home when she was eleven. It ruined her life. I never knew where that was, though.’ Deb thought back to her grandma’s diary. Of the entries that it had broken her heart to read.
‘Does it say… the individual names of the Sutherland family?’ she asked, tentatively.
