Ghost Walk by Alanna Knight Read Free Book Online

door was open. Empty pews, a few candles bravely burning and the lingering smell of incense.
    I called: ‘Hello?’ No answer. Back across the path to the modest and minute cottage adjoining the church, raising my hand to ring the bell, the door was opened by the priest himself.
    At first glance I was disappointed. I had hoped he might look like Danny but there was not the least family resemblance.
    He was on his way out, in a tearing hurry, formally clad in biretta, stole, clutching a rosary and leading a scared looking lad of about twelve years old.
    ‘Father Sean McQuinn?’ I said smiling and introducing myself. ‘I am Danny’s wife.’
    ‘Danny? Danny who?’ He stared at me for a moment before realisation dawned. ‘Oh – Danny. You must be Rose, of course.’
    Shaking my hand briefly, he indicated the small tearful boy at his side. ‘Sorry I can’t stop now. The lad’s father,’ he whispered. ‘He’s dying. Can we talk later.’
    ‘Of course. I’m here for a few days.’
    And rushing down the path, he shouted over his shoulder. ‘I’ll be in church later this evening. After Mass. We can talk then.’
    That would be fine I thought. Just an hour or two.
    But it was not to be. As I walked back towards the farm, the rain began and so it remained, unyielding in its ceaseless downpour and holding me trapped for the rest of the evening.
     
    The Macmerry’s main meal was at midday. Supper was a lighter version, meat and potatoes again but without the soup and with cake or scones substituting for a dinnertime rich plum duff or bread pudding served with cream.
    Afterwards I looked out of the rain-streaked window.
    ‘Oh dear, I could do with a walk.’
    Jack’s father came to my side. ‘Ye canna go out in that, lass. Ye’ll catch yer death.’ And shaking his head. ‘Set in till the morn, I’m afraid, lass.’
    And so it was. With neither excuse nor opportunity to leave the house I discovered that Jack’s parents obeyed the ancient country laws, bed at sundown to rise with the dawn.
    I wasn’t sorry to retire early either, rather than remain sitting idly at the kitchen table watching as Mrs Macmerry attended to the final chores of the day.
    My offer of assistance was declined with considerable embarrassment by his father, his ‘Bide where ye are, lass,’ managing to indicate that they might both be answerable to Jack for allowing me to get my hands dirty.
    I went upstairs, gratefully deciding that I was more tired in Eildon than I ever was in Edinburgh. Something to do with the air, I thought.
    I would see Father McQuinn in the morning, get it over with, my mind at rest before Jack arrived. Snuggling down into white linen sheets and snowy pillows smelling of lavender, I realised that Jack knew no such luxury under my spartan roof at Solomon’s Tower.
    My last thoughts before I slept were of him. Curiously I dreamed of Jack too which I did very rarely. Opening a door, he was waiting and, smiling, he took me into his arms.
    For the very first time, my familiar dream had forgotten Danny.
    I awoke haunted by a feeling of guilt that Jack had now replaced him.

Chapter Six
    Next morning I came downstairs to the sound of female voices in the kitchen.
    Mrs Macmerry had a visitor, a neighbour, Mrs Ward.
    ‘Pleased to meet you, Miss Faro,’ she said with a polite smile that made no bones about looking me over very candidly, so that I had the curious feeling of being well-discussed before I made my entrance. Her subsequent manner indicating that she had heard a lot about me, and none of it very good.
    It happened that Mrs Ward was also a long-time friend of the Macmerrys, as she revealed with a somewhat triumphant smile that her daughter and Jack had been friends since they were in the cradle together.
    I needed to know no more after that. The drift of the talk I had missed was instantly revealed; that Mrs Ward, her daughter and Jack’s mother had entertained hopes that the cradle would be exchanged in due