Chapter Twenty-Three
Revelations
Thankfully the storm had blown itself out and we awoke to clear skies and sunshine. Joe had woken early, getting up and making tea and toast to bring for us to eat in bed. As soon as we’d finished eating he’d showered and prepared himself for the day. I got the feeling he was eager to find Laney and get it all over and done with. I hadn’t worked out how I would be able to talk to Laney without Joe overhearing the conversation. Yesterday I’d wanted him to be there so he could see first-hand that I’d been telling the truth, now I knew I couldn’t have him anywhere near Laney Marsh. However, I couldn’t exactly tell Joe I’d changed my mind either. If I tried that he’d wonder why I’d had the sudden change of heart. After the lengths I’d gone to drag his arse here he’d never believe it. I was going to have to wing it.
It was short walk along the shore path to Gardenstown and we’d called in to see Moira and her husband Cambell on the way. Cambell told us he’d heard of a Marsh family in the area but not an address. He’d told us to ask any of the local bakers or shop owners in Gardenstown as they’d be the most likely to know Laney. I’d had to explain all of this to Joe as we walked because as much as he’d struggled to understand Moira, her husband’s accent was twice as thick.
Rows of sturdy little houses greeted us as we entered the small town, nestled neatly between the wildness of the bay and sprawling cliffs, it presented its own rugged beauty to the world. Making our way slowly through the streets, it felt like Joe and I had been transported into a different time. The old town offered a much simpler life than the one I was used to in the city, I could see the appeal. From what I could remember from my research into the area, these small villages and towns were built as a direct result of the highland clearances. In the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, aristocratic landowners forced the eviction of farming tenants from their land and enclosed all common land to raise sheep. Thousands of Gaelic families were forced into migration to the Scottish west coast, Australia and America. The stone cottages in the west coast villages stood in defiance of the tyrannical aristocrats, small time tenant farmers became fishermen and learned to survive that way, keeping the Gaelic culture alive. I knew I was romanticising it, in reality the clearances had been brutal and lasted over hundred years. Many people had been killed defending their ancestral homes. But something about their defiant struggle called to me, it was easy to feel a part of it when you were here, walking the streets of Gardenstown. I had Scottish ancestry, my family name of Douglas was a clan name. We had our own tartan. I felt strangely at home in these streets, in amongst my ancestors. I imagined I could hear their whispers and feel their watchful gaze from beneath the veil.
“That’s a very wistful look you have there.” Joe said.
“Isn’t it beautiful here? I was just thinking about my heritage. I have Scottish ancestry you know.”
“It is beautiful.” Joe agreed. “I didn’t know you had some Scottish in you, maybe that’s where your fiery temper comes from huh?” He nudged my arm with his elbow.
“Hey!” I replied, playfully punching his shoulder. “I’m not fiery, I’m passionate.”
“Oh no bella, the passion comes from the Italian inside you.”
“I don’t have any Italian in me.” I said quizzically.
“Would you like some?” He grinned devilishly and I rolled my eyes.
“Ohhhh smooth, very smooth.”
“I can do smooth…but I prefer rough and so do you la mia bella donna.” His voice low and smouldering, sent shivers down my back and straight between my legs. Joe had such a crazy effect on me. I’d never reacted to any man the way I did to him, just the thought of sex with him had me panting like a bitch in heat.
“Will you stop it! Now is hardly the time you pervert.” I laughed.
“But you like my perverse side. Remember the time with the butter and…”
“Shh! Someone might hear you.” I hissed, trying to smother a laugh. “Come on now be serious please, we’re on a mission remember?” We approached a greengrocer’s shop and I pulled Joe to a stop. “Let’s ask in here, see if they know Laney.” Joe was distracted with the vegetable cart outside the shop. The chef side of him couldn’t resist perusing fresh produce. “Joe?”
“Hmm?” He looked up at me, a plump plum in his hand.
“Never mind, I’m going inside a moment.”
“OK, you mind if I look at these? I can pick something up for dinner tonight.”
“That’s fine, you play with your plums, and I won’t be long.” Joe raised an eyebrow at my innuendo and I blew him a kiss. I approached the counter and rang the little bell beside the till. A few seconds later a man who looked in his late sixties, came through from the back of the shop. His face was slightly weather-worn and rosy cheeked. Curly grey hair sprouted out the sides of a red woolly beanie hat. He reminded me of Smee from Peter Pan, all he was missing was the iconic blue and white striped shirt and the little round specs. The notion made me smile and the old man took it as a greeting. Smiling back at me he asked me,
“What can I do for you lassy?”
“Hi. Um, I’m actually looking for someone, a lady I work with. I have an address for Crovie but it seems she doesn’t live there. I was wondering if you might know of her or her family? Her name is Laney Marsh.” The old man’s hand went to his chin and he stroked it, his beady blue eyes scrutinised me.
“Who’s asking?”
“Oh, sorry. My name is Naomi Doug… Ferrantino. Naomi Ferrantino.” I smiled and held out my hand. He didn't take it but continued to stare at me. The situation felt somewhat awkward during the few moments of silence that followed. I lowered my hand and gave a little cough, clearing my throat. “It’s a matter of some urgency you see, it’s about her work.” The old man still didn’t respond so I continued. “I need to get in contact with her as soon as possible. It really is important.” Not wanting to elaborate any further I stopped and looked at him expectantly, hoping for an answer.
“A’ knows the Marsh family aye. No Laney though. Maybe you got the wrong address.”
“Oh.” I replied, a little disappointed. “I suppose it’s possible she may go by another first name, she’s a writer you see.”
“You one o’ them stalkers are ye?”
“Oh God no. Nothing like that.” Technically you are. The little voice in my head piped up. I ignored it. “I’ve been erm…helping her with her book but there’s a problem and I need to see her. I don’t have much in the way of contact details.”
“Funny. It stands to reason if yous are working together you’d have contact details eh?” The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. Jesus! Talk about tight lipped community. This was like pulling teeth! I plastered on my sweetest smile.
“Ms Marsh is very private. She only used to communicate via email. I’ve been trying to get hold of her for a while but she’s not answering her emails. I’m starting to get worried about her.” I thought I’d try the concerned associate approach instead. It seemed to make the old man think anyway. I was just about to say something more when Joe burst through the door with his arms stuffed full of fresh fruit and vegetables, an excited expression on his face and a reel of Italian spouting from his mouth. The old man’s attention was diverted from me and he beamed at Joe.
“Naomi, look at all this! Beautiful produce huh?” He bundled the produce onto the counter and gestured towards his hoard. “So fresh and juicy!” He said enthusiastically. Turning to the old man he asked, “All organic yes?”
“T’is aye. Local grown, you’ll no get better sir.” The pride on the man’s face was obvious and he was clearly appreciative of Joe’s praise. “Yous want me te bag it up for yous?” He asked Joe. Joe’s brow furrowed and I interjected.
“He’s asking if you want to buy it?” I turned to the man and explained. “Joe is from Italy, I’m afraid he’s having trouble understanding your accent.”
“Ahh! Italian eh? You’ll know all aboot great grub then aye.” I continued to translate for Joe.
“He says you know about great food.”
“Si signore. Food is life uh?” Joe grinned heartily and the old man responded with a booming laugh and clapped Joe on the shoulder in agreement. They continued to coo over the quality of fresh, organic produce, Joe going full Italian with his over enthusiastic hand gestures, emphasising his words. I stood by patiently waiting for an opportunity to interject and push the man for information. As the old man finished bagging up our purchases I heard Joe ask him if he could recommend any local fishmongers because he planned on making us a fish dinner tonight.
“Try old Alan down by the harbour. He sells his daily catch fresh from his boat, you’ll no get fresher than straight from the ocean. You tell him Drew sent ye and he’ll see you right.”
“I will, thank you Drew.” Joe beamed and held out his hand to shake the old man’s hand. Drew, didn’t hesitate to give Joe’s hand a hearty shake, followed by a friendly pat of his arm.
“And you lassy,” Drew addressed me, “you can find the Marsh family estate atop the hill but I wouldn'y go poking around too much if I were you. Like you said, they’re a private family. They don’t mix much around town. Watch your step.” The added warning took me by surprise a little. What did he mean by ‘watch my step’? I didn’t get chance to ask because another customer came into the shop and Drew went off to greet them. Joe took his bag full of groceries and walked out the shop, waving a friendly goodbye at Drew as he exited.
“What is it with you?” I demanded when we were back on the street.
“What do you mean?” Joe asked.
“That man was playing hard to get until you walked in. He wasn’t talking at all.”
“He seemed friendly enough to me.”
“Yeah, well everyone likes you it seems!”
“Aww, bella. I can’t help it, it’s my natural charm.” He quipped, his eyes glinting. “Don’t worry my love, I like you.” Joe blew me a kiss and winked.
“It’s only because you bought a load of stuff.” I said huffily. “I’ve never seen someone get so excited over a cucumber before.” Joe started laughing and I pulled a face at him, he had such a natural way with people it really bugged me sometimes. I found it hard to be mad at him though, he’d managed to get the information about the Marsh’s for me without even trying.
“You want me to show you how excited I can get about a cucumber later?” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “I got a big one, fat and juicy…cucumbers have many uses you know, not just for eating.”
“Oh my Lord! You really are perverted.” I couldn’t help but laugh. “Is everything about sex with you?”
“Pretty much bella. Sex and food, two very valid reasons for living.” He smiled broadly. “Sooo… about that cucumber?” Joe said coyly.
“The one in the bag or the one in your pants?” I smirked.
“Both.”
“Joe!” The shock on my face was genuine. I felt the first flush of heat on my face, slightly embarrassed at what he was suggesting.
“I don’t ask, I don’t get.” He shrugged, nonchalant. “Think you can handle two?” I turned my face away, my hand covering my mouth trying to smother the nervous giggle. I had never experimented with food during sex before. Joe was pushing me to my limits constantly. I adored getting dirty with him but I wasn’t sure I could handle what he had in mind. I felt him take my hand and pull me to a stop. His face was serious now, none of the impish glint in his eyes.
“Naomi, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I’m just joking around.”
“It’s OK, I never know if you’re being serious or not. I mean…I like to try new things but…”
“You’ve never done anything like that.” He finished for me. I shook my head, smiling shyly. “Don’t worry love, we can try something a little less…perverted.” He grinned and put his arm around me, pulling me in for a hug. His amused chuckle rumbled through his chest. This man sometimes made me feel like an innocent virgin. I was determined to try and keep up with him.
“Like what?” My voice muffled by his coat.
“Oh I don’t know, we’ll think of something.” He pulled away from me and cupped my chin, raising my face to look at him. “Ti amo Naomi.” His lips found mine and he kissed me tenderly, the depth of feeling I held for him threatened to overwhelm me. Life with Joe was a rollercoaster of emotion and sexual tension. It was a ride I never wanted to get off. My mind immediately went back to my mission. I had to find Laney. I had to somehow stop her writing and secure my future with Joe because I knew I could never go back to a life without him. He was my world. He made me feel like the most important person on the planet. I had never had anyone love me so openly and fervently before. Genuine or not, I was addicted to his love, to him and I never wanted to let him go.
We arrived at the harbour hand in hand. Joe talked animatedly all the way there about the feast he planned on cooking for us this evening. His passion for food rivalled his passion in the bedroom and both were equally deserving of praise. We spotted Alan’s boat- The Kelpie Queen, in the harbour and Joe pulled me enthusiastically towards it.
“Hey babe? Do you mind if I go up the hill? I want to go find the Marsh estate. It’s getting on and as much as I’d love to stay and talk ‘fish’, I really need to go.” This was the perfect opportunity to go off on my own, Joe would be happy talking to Alan for a while. I could already see the light in his eyes as he scanned the crates of fresh seafood on the boat.
“Oh, yeah OK. I thought you wanted me to come with you? Wasn’t that the whole point?” He frowned.
“Yeah, I know. I’ve been thinking about it and I think it’s something I need to do on my own. It might be less threatening to Laney if I’m on my own don’t you think? Besides, I don’t even know if it’s the right family. Chances are it’s not so it’ll be a wasted journey for you. You’re better off staying here and choosing your prize.” I nodded towards the boat. Joe continued to frown.
“I thought you needed me to meet this woman? That was the whole reason you planned the trip right? What’s changed?”
“Nothing babe, I did want you to meet her. I just feel like I need to see her alone first. Is that alright? Just…humour me, please?” I looked beseechingly at him and he caved.
“If you’re sure? Do you want me to come meet you when I’m done here?”
“Um, no it’s fine. I’ll meet you in that little tea room over there.” I pointed along the harbour to a small tea room called ‘Tea for Two’, Joe nodded.
“How long?”
“I don’t know, about an hour, hour and a half maybe?”
“OK love. I’ll pick us some fish for dinner but don’t be more than an hour and a half, we have to walk back to Crovie and I don’t want this fish to go off.”
“I won’t be, I promise. Thank you, Joe.” I reached up and kissed him on the lips. “See you soon, pick us something nice.” I smiled at him and he smiled back then turned and walked towards Alan’s boat. I waited till I saw him approach Alan and begin talking and then I practically ran back up the street towards the path that led up the cliff to the Marsh estate.
It took about twenty minutes to find the grand entrance to the estate, a long wide driveway, lined either side by tall trees, stretched away from the ten-foot-wide wrought iron gate. The property was surrounded by a stone wall that looked about six feet high and old. I surmised it must be quite a large estate by the grandeur of the entrance. The gate was closed, I tried pushing it but it was far too heavy. I looked at the huge stone pillars that held up the gate and saw a small black box with a button in the middle. I pushed it. Nothing happened. I pushed it again three times in a row, holding my finger down on the third try. I waited and then a buzzing noise sounded and the heavy gate clanked and swung open, creaking and groaning in the process. I began the long lonely walk up the tree lined driveway. I had no idea how long it was because I couldn’t, yet, see any evidence of a house.
It took a good ten minutes of fast paced walking until I rounded a corner and was confronted by a huge mansion house. It looked more like a castle with its dark grey stone walls and turreted towers. I’d seen a few pictures of grand Scottish houses and castles, this one was smaller than ones I’d seen but no less imposing. Surrounded by trees on either side, there was a circular end to the driveway leading right up to the front door. There were iron bars on the windows that looked old and rusted and some of the window panels looked thick with dirt. I looked around the front courtyard at what once must’ve been immaculately kept but now lay untended and unloved. Overgrown shrubbery spilled over the boarders and weeds penetrated the gravel drive. I shivered, my lip curling upwards in a grimace. If I didn’t know better, I’d think I’d just happened upon a haunted house. The reality of it was probably that the family who lived here were perhaps elderly and couldn’t manage the estate as they once used to, or perhaps weren’t as affluent as previous generations. Looking at the house and its neglected frontage, you could easily mistake it for being abandoned. There was little to no sign of life that I could see, no lights in the windows or anything to indicate it was still lived in. This couldn’t be where Laney lived surely? The impression of her I got through her writing was one of a woman similar in age to me, full of life and vibrancy. I couldn’t picture her living somewhere like this. I almost turned back except for the fact that someone had opened the gate to let me in.
I approached the stone steps that led to the heavy wooden front door and lifted my hand to the iron door knocker. Before I could knock, I heard a click and the door opened slowly. I stepped back in anticipation, expecting to see an elderly maid or homeowner, instead a tall, blonde beauty stood half hidden behind the door. She smiled shyly at me, trying to avoid eye contact.
“Um…hello.” I paused to smile. “My name is…”
“I know who you are.” She interrupted, her voice was quiet but captivating none the less. “She said you’d come.” Her words surprised me.
“You know me?” I admit I felt slightly perturbed by this fact. The woman nodded, her face remained dipped but she momentarily lifted her eyes to look at me. When I met her gaze, I was immediately struck by their brilliance. They were a shade of ice blue I’d never seen before, they were mesmerising. She noticed my stare and dropped her eyes to the ground again. “Do you know why I’m here then?” Again, the woman nodded. “Is Laney Marsh at home?” The woman shook her head. Disappointed I asked, “Will she be long? Is it possible I could wait inside?” After a moment of thought the woman stepped back and opened the door wider to allow me inside.
“You can wait in the library.” The blonde woman told me as she began walking down the dark hallway towards the rear of the house. My shoes resonated on the tiled floor with each step, sending echo bouncing off the walls. There were no lights or lamps of any kind in the hall but I managed to follow the sound of the woman’s footsteps in front.
“Is there a light or something you could switch on please? It’s a bit hard to see.” I asked politely, no sooner had I finished my sentence than a single light shone from an old fitting on the ceiling, casting shadows around me. That was odd, I hadn’t seen the woman stop or heard her click a switch at all. “Thank you.” I said tentatively. She led me to a dimly lit room, the instant I entered I knew it was the library, the unmistakable smell of old leather and paper hit me. I loved that smell, some people would call it musty but I called it home. There was something about libraries and old book shops I found incredibly overawing, the vast array of knowledge contained within the millions of pages demanded reverence but I always felt calm in those places. I could happily spend all day sitting amongst old books, surrounded by centuries of thoughts, dreams and the fantastical workings of the human mind. This was my idea of total paradise.
The dim light grew brighter as we neared a seating area in the centre of the room and it was then that I realised the sheer size of the library. It seemed incomprehensible compared to the size of the house from the outside. I’m sure I must’ve looked like an open-mouthed fish as I stared in wonderment at shelves piled from floor to ceiling with books, shelves that stretched back further than the light in the room could reach.
“How…?” Was all I could manage to utter.
“Please sit Naomi.” The blonde said. “Can I offer you a drink?”
“Um. No thanks.” I replied mindlessly. I realised then I hadn’t asked the woman’s name, or rather she hadn’t introduced herself to me at the door.” “What’s your name?”
“I’m the librarian.” She said. Okaaay.
“Oh. Right. But what should I call you?” Thinking she hadn’t quite grasped my meaning.
“The librarian.” She stated simply. I shrugged a shoulder and nodded slowly.
“Right.” There was an awkward silence and then the librarian turned and walked towards the door.
“Wait here and don’t touch anything.” She said quietly and then was gone.
“Well that wasn’t odd in the slightest.” I said to the room. I sat upright in an old leather high-backed chair. I guessed by the style of it, it was a Chesterfield. Its green leather was soft and well worn, especially along the arms where several tiny cracks could be seen. This chair had certainly seen some use. Looking around the space where I sat, I could see a beautiful antique writing bureau, I recognised it as a Davenport. Of course, I would expect a house like this to be full of antiques so it was no great surprise to find such a beautiful piece in the library. Its presence only added to the nostalgic atmosphere. My eyes glanced over the books on the nearest shelf in front of me. All of them were old and leather bound. Huge thick, heavy volumes with gold lettering on the well-worn spines. I found them comforting, I felt strangely like I was amongst family here.
Several minutes ticked by as I waited rather impatiently for the librarian to return. I couldn’t sit still any longer, the pull of the books was too strong, I had to go and look at them more closely. I often wondered what volumes family libraries in grand houses would hold, now was my chance to take a peek. Stepping up to the shelf I reached out my hand to touch one of the red leather spines, the moment my finger made contact I felt it- an electric pulse, like the dull thub thub of a heartbeat, emanated from the book and through my hand.
“What the hell?” I jumped back rubbing my palm on my hip. Was that static? I peered at the spine of the book that had just shocked me. There was a symbol near the top, something I didn’t recognise and then underneath a string of numbers that looked like a date and finally a name.
“Erika Parker.” I mumbled. I didn’t recognise it as a title that I knew. I moved along the shelf to the next volume, the same sequence appeared on the spine - a symbol, a set of numbers and a name. I read it out.
“James Markham.” Moving further along I continued to read out names on the spines of the books. They all looked the same except the further along the shelves I travelled, the older the books looked. I noticed the ageing covers corresponded with the numbers on each book. If those numbers were indeed dates then some of these volumes were centuries old. I could find no recognisable titles amongst them, just rows and rows of names.
I heard footsteps in the distance, it sounded like two sets. I quickly retreated to my seat and waited. The librarian entered first and stood to one side allowing the second woman to follow. This woman was older, much older but graceful and held a certain air of authority. I found myself standing to greet her.
“Hello Naomi. My name is Laney Marsh, I’ve been waiting for you.”