Chapters (36)
- COVER PAGE
- ABOUT THE AUTHOR
- TITLE PAGE
- COPYRIGHT PAGE
- DEDICATION
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- SNEAK PEEK: A STONE’S THROW AWAY
FIFTEEN
Fifteen
The pub was just like all the other buildings Elle had seen in this region: white stone with a red roof. She parked out the front and walked inside, instantly feeling the warmth from the fireplace that crackled cheerfully up one end of the room. The bar ran along a wall, where a woman in her mid-forties with bouncy blonde hair smiled a welcome as Elle approached her.
‘What can I get for you?’ she asked in a heavy brogue.
‘I was wondering if you had any rooms available for the night?’
‘Aye, we do. How many guests?’
‘Just the one, thanks,’ Elle said, relieved she would be able to put her feet up very soon instead of having to drive back the way she’d come earlier to find somewhere else to stay.
Clusters of round tables filled the centre of the room and at the other end was a square dance floor and small stage. Around the walls hung flags and tartans as well as the odd enormous deer head. The tantalising scent of something delicious being cooked floated through the air.
‘Let me show you to your room,’ the woman said, taking a key from the wall behind her and circling out from behind the bar. Elle followed her through a set of doors and up a staircase to a row of rooms on the second floor. The room was basic but clean, and Elle smiled thankfully as she took the key from the woman and sat on the end of the bed to take in her surroundings. It was an effort to get up and head back downstairs to collect her bags from the car, but once she was settled in her room, she gave into the temptation to stretch out on the double bed for a few minutes before going in search of food.
Glenda, the publican, turned out to be a wealth of knowledge about the local area.
‘Aye, Stormeil Castle, I remember my granddad talking about that place. Nothing left of it now, though, I’d imagine. It’s not a place that a lot of people go. They say it was haunted, you know,’ Glenda said in a low voice, as her head bobbed knowingly.
‘Is there anywhere in Scotland that isn’t?’ Elle asked doubtfully. So far just about every place she’d stayed was supposed to be haunted, but the only ghost she’d had any problems with was Gran.
Glenda let out a low throaty chuckle and collected Elle’s used glass. ‘Not many places. So, how did you hear about Stormeil Castle?’
‘My gran used to tell me stories about it. She was very proud of her family history. She’s a descendant of the MacCoinnichs,’ Elle said with a smile.
‘Ah,’ Glenda said brightly. ‘It’s not often you hear outsiders use the Gaelic version of MacKenzie.’ She nodded thoughtfully as she studied Elle. ‘You said she was proud. Does that mean your gran has passed on?’