Cat's Cradle (23 page)

‘So we should just sit tight?' I asked doubtfully.

‘Aye. We have nae choice, do we?'

‘True, Socrates. Very philosophic.'

Jamie snorted. Bridgit looked confused. ‘Who is Socrates and what's he got to do with anything?' she asked.

‘An old Greek who liked asking questions.' I scrubbed my forehead, finding it hard to believe I was stuck at the top of a tower discussing ancient philosophers when we weren't even sure whether a bunch of ruffians were going to let us live on the morrow. ‘Never mind. Let's go to sleep.'

Summoned the next morning to hear Malcolm's
judgement, we stumbled wearily into the main chamber. None of us had slept very well, thanks to a combination of anxiety and cold. The Bruce clan were gathered, including some females who hadn't been present the night before. A tall woman with a square jaw and thick black brows stood behind Malcolm's chair, declaring her status as his wife by her stance. Her eyes widened when she saw me and she stooped to whisper something in her husband's ear to which he nodded in reply. Rabbie skulked in the window niche, an empty bowl on his crossed knees. That reminded me how hungry I was. Would the Bruces feed us? Perhaps I should do something to get put back in the food store downstairs?

Malcolm stood up and the chatter in the room died away. He tossed a plaid blanket over his shoulder, treating it like a badge of office or Roman toga.

‘I have decided,' he announced, ‘for the sake of our wee Rabbie,' here he cast an insincere look of concern at his cousin, ‘I need to find out what bequest his aunt left him. So the morn, I'll go with
the Kelly lad to New Lanark and talk to Rabbie's kin.' There was a general murmur of agreement in the room. ‘His sister will stay here the while until we uncover the truth.'

My heart sank. It seemed I would have to endure yet more of the Bruces' cold hospitality.

‘What about Bridgit?' Jamie chipped in bravely.

Malcolm shrugged. ‘The Irish lass can stay or go as she likes, as long as she realizes that any trouble she brings upon us will fall first on her wee friend.' He resumed his seat. ‘Help yerselves to some breakfast.' He waved us to a cauldron over the fire. ‘I want to leave as soon as ye're done.'

We quickly filled three bowls with porridge and retired to a corner.

‘What do ye think?' whispered Jamie.

‘Better than I expected,' I admitted. ‘You and Bridgit will be out of here and when he finds out there's nothing he's bound to let me go.'

‘I'm not leaving you,' Bridgit muttered staunchly. ‘I promised his lordship I'd stick by you.'

‘Of course you're going!' I protested. ‘You'd
be foolish to miss this chance. You can be far more help to me on the outside than stuck in here. And as Jamie said last night, I'm the last one the Bruces are likely to hurt, seeing how I'm kin to one of them.' I was no more eager than she to be left on my own but it was so obviously the best choice in unpleasant circumstances. ‘Besides, I need you to contact Frank for me. When we get out of here we'll be penniless and we still have to get home.'

Bridgit was not about to jump to my orders. She looked at me, then at Jamie, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. ‘What do you think I should do, professor?'

Jamie frowned at my determined expression then turned back to Bridgit. ‘I think Catherine is right: better for ye to be in New Lanark than here. If they dinna let her go, we can find a way to persuade them. It will be easier to do that if ye are away wi' me.'

‘And though Rabbie may not like the fact that I'm here, he's not likely to harm me, is he?' I was not entirely sure of this myself, but it seemed a
reasonable argument to make to Bridgit.

She nodded slowly. ‘I'll go back with Jamie. But Cat, if we don't hear from you after seven days, we'll come back and get you – bringing help this time.'

‘Agreed – but I doubt it'll come to that. If they're reluctant to let me go, I'll just slip away. I've had some practice at that.'

An hour later I watched from the battlements as my two friends trudged through the snow in the wake of Malcolm Bruce. The grey tower house thrust from the valley slope like an island from an icy sea, and I felt like the lone inhabitant on lookout, watching the last boat leaving for safety. It was a quiet morning for such desperation. Everything was beautifully still, woods frozen in a white tableau, tree-dancers holding a pose for our applause. In the pale blue sky the moon lingered late, hanging like a curled feather on a satin counterpane.

Once the three travellers had disappeared, I went back down the stairs, at a loss as to what to do with myself for the next few days. Most of the
men had left to tend the livestock and haul in firewood while the women were chattering in the main chamber, preparing dinner and minding the smallest children. I peeked in, aware of being an outsider to their daily activities. But, fortunately, Malcolm's wife spotted me hovering by the door.

‘Well, if it isna Jesse's by-start. Come in, lass.' She beckoned me to the trestle table where she was chopping root vegetables for the pot. ‘Ye have the look of yer mither as I told Malcolm when I first saw ye.'

It increased my feeling of strangeness to know that I was surrounded by people who knew my mother better than I did. By rights she should belong to me, but in truth she was always going to be theirs in ways I could never match.

‘Can I help?' I asked, gesturing to the paring knife.

‘Aye, everyone in the tower pulls their weight. Take a bench beside me.'

‘Thank you, ma'am.'

‘Och, ye do have fancy London ways! That
would make Jesse cackle if she could see ye now. Ye can call me Nan.'

I nodded and picked up the knife to set to on a bunch of carrots.

‘Would you tell me about my mother, Nan?'

The woman's lips bent into a smile. ‘She was a lively one. Had her man – old Kenneth – running like a fox with a torch tied to his tail; that made us women laugh. She wasna wi' us long before she died, but she came like a comet streaking across our heavens, lighting up our world for a while.

‘We all mourned her when she didna survive the birth. And Kenneth wouldna marry again after she were dead, even though he had the wean to think o'. I always thought it was a love match.'

But one that did not include the inconvenient child left in London. Nan's words unwittingly painted a picture of a heedless woman who drove everyone to distraction, leaving chaos in her wake.

‘Did she ever mention me?'

‘Nae, but the midwife told me Rabbie wasna her first wean. I thought that meant Jesse must have lost one, but it were too late to ask. The last
thing I expected was for ye to show up on our doorstep. She left ye to be fostered, did she?'

‘Something like that,' I mumbled in reply. And I suppose from my mother's point of view, Drury Lane theatre was a safe foster parent in uncertain times – loving and generous, always there, not likely to abandon one of its own no matter what the provocation.

‘Och, dinna fret, lass, about yer mither. Have ye no thought that maybe she meant to come back for ye when she'd had the wean? Giving Kenneth a lad would have made her the apple of his eye – he would have done anything for her after that,' Nan suggested, correctly reading my melancholic expression.

Her words penetrated my gloom. Perhaps my mother had intended to reclaim me once established in her new life here – it was a comforting thought. My mind whirled, imagining how different my upbringing would have been. My goodness, I would've been Scottish! Can you imagine that, Reader? And I would have had blood relations, a rough-and-tumble family all
of my own. A family of bandits admittedly.

Well, no one's perfect.

Rabbie didn't know how lucky he was. He may have grown up in a clan whose way of life seemed like something out of one of Bishop Percy's collection of ballads rather than our modern age, but at least he'd known where he belonged.

Rabbie chose that moment to stump into the kitchen with his arms full of logs. With one look at me, he dropped them by the fireplace and turned on his heel.

‘Nae, ye dinna treat yer sister like that, Rabbie Bruce!' scolded Nan. ‘I was just getting acquainted with the lass and I think ye should take the trouble to do so too.'

‘I dinna want to be fashed wi' her,' he grumbled, tugging at the frayed end of his scarf.

‘Well, hard luck, my wee man. Malcolm left orders that ye stick to her side like her shadow so she canna escape. My daft husband thinks she's hiding gold from him. He willna be pleased if she disappears before he can settle it one way or another.'

Nan was evidently not a person to disobey. Rabbie sat down at the table but did not offer to help. I could feel his eyes examining me surreptitiously as I chopped up the carrots. This was progress – at least he seemed a little curious.

‘Ye've asked me before what yer mither looked like, Rabbie,' continued Nan cheerfully. ‘Well, take a keek at the lass and ye'll see.'

Rabbie snorted in disgust and toyed with a discarded carrot top, winding the feathery leaves around his index finger.

‘Dinna ye have a hankering to ken where yer sister has spent all these years?' asked Nan.

‘Nae, I canna say I give a fart.'

If I hadn't been convinced that we were kin, his bad language would have given it away.

Nan sighed. ‘Like that, is it, lad? As thrawn as yer faither, ye are. It's nae fault of Catherine that she was born. Take the lass and shew her around the place. Ye can do that, can ye no?' She took the knife from my hand – perhaps to stop me using it on my grumpy brother – and ushered us out of the room.

‘I'll shew ye the cows,' Rabbie muttered grudgingly.

He pushed open the outside door and jumped down the wooden stairs. I followed more slowly, not caring for the patches of ice on the treads.

‘I suppose ye fine London ladies have never seen a cow before?' he sneered.

‘Once or twice perhaps,' I replied dryly. ‘And I'm hardly a fine lady.' I felt tempted to shake him; he wasn't giving me a chance.

Crossing the clearing that surrounded the tower, he led me to a barn set back in the trees. I could smell the cattle from many paces – a stench that caught the back of the throat, reminding me of Smithfield market. Rabbie pushed the door open and beckoned me inside. I stepped in, to be immediately confronted by an enormous shaggy red head topped with curved horns. I couldn't stop myself – I gave a shriek of alarm and backed off.

‘Scared of a wee cow?' mocked Rabbie, skirting the beast and climbing on a cart stationed by the door. I quickly scrambled up beside him.

‘That is not a wee cow; that is a monster.'

‘Aye, our Highland cows are nae built small and dowie like the soothland cattle. They have to survive our winter.'

‘For your information, I've yet to see a cow that could be called small, even down south. I was just taken by surprise, is all,' I replied defensively. ‘You could have warned me they were loose in here.'

‘Why?'

‘Why? Because it would have been the kind thing to do, that's why.'

‘I dinna have to be kind to ye.'

I rolled my eyes in exasperation. ‘Obviously. But, Rabbie, doesn't it mean anything to you that I'm your half-sister?' I nudged him in the ribs with my elbow. ‘Why are you so angry with me? All I've done is come and find you.'

He frowned and threw a pebble at the barn door. It ricocheted and disappeared under the cows' hooves. ‘Ye should've left me alone – no come stirring up stories about my mither.'

‘About
our
mother. She was mine too . . . or was for a while.' It was useless. He didn't need or want me – he had made himself perfectly clear on that
point. He was only annoying me and I suppose I was irritating him. Time to change the subject.

I waved to the twenty head of cattle wandering in the straw-strewn barn. ‘So, do these cows all belong to your cousin Malcolm?'

Rabbie sniggered. ‘Ye can say that.'

Which meant ‘no'.

‘So they're stolen – like my money.'

‘We're reivers – that's what we do.' He crossed his arms, defying me to criticize – which is exactly what I did next, of course.

‘Reivers is just a fancy name for thieves. Where I come from, it's nothing to be proud of and will likely lead to the gallows.'

Rabbie jumped down from the cart. ‘That's one reason I dinna want a sister – clashing on wi' yer everlasting clack. I need none of yer preaching.'

‘And I thought I was being sensible.'

‘If ye had any sense, ye'd never have come here.' He made for the door.

I held up my hand, determined to get this said before he scurried off again. ‘No, just stop a minute, Rabbie! Listen for once. How could I
have known not to come? I wasn't even aware of your existence until a few days ago. I hoped then that you would be as eager to see me as I was you.'

His back was to me but he hadn't left the barn. Braving the cows, I slipped from my perch and approached him.

‘Unlike you, I've never had a single person in this world who was mine. Do you understand what I mean? Of course you don't: you've had cousins and aunts and uncles around you even after you lost your parents. I came because I just wanted to see – to touch someone who belonged to me.' Tentatively I reached out, daring to do what I had longed from the first moment I saw him. I touched the back of his head, feeling the softness of his brown hair.

My brother.

He stood very still, neither encouraging nor rejecting my light caress. I dropped my hand. ‘I'm not planning to stay around and spoil things for you but I would be grateful if you could find a little bit of brotherly feeling for me while I'm here.'

Rabbie let the silence stretch between us almost unbearably.