Backwards Into Hell

Part One: The Lodge

Sunday 24th October

The only guest absent on our trip to the Castle was Lily. Her seat on the rickety coach was empty, and I couldn't help but ponder what she was up to. Painting, maybe. She hadn't seemed like the social sort.

I sat back and put her out of my mind. The rain had softened into a calming drizzle, and if you looked far into the horizon, you could see a break in the clouds, letting a few, soft sunrays escape.

It was quiet on the coach—we were all still waking up—but by the time we got to the island, everyone, especially Lottie, was raring to go.

David, looking suitably green, was the last to jump off the tiny ferry and staggered as he caught up with the rest of us on the pier. To our left was an ancient harbour and in front of us was the narrow gateway that led to the Castle. It was little more than a squashed stone square with two high towers situated in the walls. It was nowhere near as old or as grand as other Scottish castles but instead felt cosy—almost home-like with its rich red carpets and warm walls.

As we reached a room with a small fireplace, Abe took it upon himself to play tour guide.

'People used to live here not long ago,' he said to me.

'Really?'

'Hmm. It's been deserted for twenty years but before that it belonged to the MacNeil's—pirates of the Western Isles.' He put on a cheap accent.

Delilah chuckled. 'How do you know?'

'Oh, he loves his history channel,' said Lottie.

Abe's cheeks took on new colour but he continued anyway. 'That's their coat of arms above the fireplace.'

We took a moment to examine it. It was a shield made of four sections. On the top left was a lion—similar to the English one—and then there was a Castle, and a ship, and in the bottom right was a red hand surrounded by what looked like gravestones.

Nine gravestones.

I shivered.

'Do you know what that means?' I asked, pointing to it.

Abe frowned. 'Unfortunately that's where my knowledge ends.'

After that, we climbed up the battlements, took in the view and continued to St Kieran's Chapel before finally arriving in the gift shop.

We milled around it, mainly following Lottie as she cooed over mugs, calendars, and guidebooks while chatting to Delilah, recounting a long, lively story featuring her daughter.

As for David, he stayed mainly separate from the group, doing his best to keep Caleb entertained. Today, there were dark bags under his eyes and when he looked forward, anger flowed from him like a turret.

Curiosity gnawed, but it wasn't time to pry.

'So,' Lottie said, turning back to Abe and me, 'what's the plan for lunch?'

'There's a good Cafe near here—they serve all sorts of Indian food,' Delilah tried.

'Indian food? We're in Scotland,' Abe said, prompting Lottie to give him a playful slap on the arm.

'Oh, it's worth a try isn't it?'

Something nagged at me as we all nodded in agreement and Abe watched me from the corner of his eye. He kept doing that, not quite trusting I'd keep schtum.

Other thoughts crept in. The evening wasn't long away. What if there was something I hadn't thought of yet? An untraceable, fantastic plan?

Anyway, I still needed to collect my weapon—the penknife was too cheap and blunt to be reliable and the thought of killing with my bare hands was altogether worse. I also wanted to find Lily.

So as the boat pulled into the mainland, I checked my watch and said something about a bad stomach.

'Wasn't the boat, was it?' asked Lottie.

'No, no. I just need to lie down.'

'Sure you don't want one of us to come back with you?' Delilah added.

I shook my head. 'It's fine.'

Eventually, they let me go and I walked along the seafront and around to The Lodge, feeling their eyes bore a hole in my back.