The Castle and The Redhead (Pt. 4)

Harry Hogg
6 min readMar 19, 2024

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Setting: an island off the west coast of Scotland.

Here is: Part 1: Part 2 Pt: 3

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Walking up the castle slope, Aline became acutely aware of the shadowed slipperiness left from yesterday’s rain on the cobbles. She was intrigued and disappointed to discover that the rowboat that had brought Blair to the island had vanished. Halfway up the slope, Aline called out to Gibbings, still on his knees, preparing the gardens for winter.

“John, do you know anything about the rowboat being gone?” Gibbings got off his knees, straightened himself, and removed his cloth cap.

“Gone? Miss Aline. The rowing boat?”

“Yes, John. You tied it up to the dock, right?”

“I did, and securely, Miss. Aline,” Gibbings said, looking toward the dock.

“Okay, thank you, John.” Aline continued up the slope, entering into the kitchen. John Gibbings scratched his head with the hand holding his cap, as gardeners are apt to do, and knelt down to continue his work.

At the top of the slope, Aline turned right into a small hall and again into the kitchens, the door closing with a little bang. The kitchen smelled of crushed herbs. Next to the pantry was a vase of carnations, the last of the summer’s blooms, brought to Mrs. Simms by John Gibbings.

“Mrs. Simms, I cannot locate our guest, Miss Blair Campbell. You have not seen her at all, have you?”

Mrs. Simms looked up from beating eggs. Broderick had wished to have an omelet for breakfast. “I have nae seen the lass, Miss Aline. Is something amiss?”

“I hope not. I’m unable to find her, and the rowing boat…” Then Aline remembered that Mrs. Simms probably wouldn’t know anything about the rowing boat anyway. “Well, never mind. I’ll look around some more. Thank you, Mrs. Simms,” she said, leaving the kitchen, Mrs. Simms still with an expression of confusion.

At this point, Aline thought she should let her brother know what was happening, proceeded through the lobby area, and up the steps to a third floor, passing the dining area where Hambleton was preparing the breakfast table.

Aline knocked on the door at the same time she opened it. “John, where are you?”

A muted voice returned the answer. “I’m in the shower.”

Aline, impolite as ever, marched into the shower room, the steam protecting her brother’s modesty. “Jesus, Aline, can’t you give me a little privacy?” Aline could not and stood against his wishes.

“Blair has vanished,” she said firmly. “The rowing boat has gone, and she’s nowhere to be found.”

The towel disappeared from hanging over the shower room door. When the door opened, MacAlistair had wrapped his waist in the towel. “Tell me, what was that again?” he asked.

“It’s Blair, she’s disappeared. The rowing boat that was tied to the dock has gone; no-one has seen her.”

MacAlistair was calm. “Sis, there are thirty-two rooms. I’m sure she’s just looking around,” he said, reaching for another towel to dry his hair.

“And the rowing boat? It’s gone, Thomas. Disappeared into thin air.”

“What are you trying to tell me? That the woman got into the rowing boat and is rowing to the mainland? Do you know how long that would take?” he said mockingly. He walked from the shower room into the bedroom and to the window, picking up binoculars and scanning the waters.

“Her clothes, the ones she was wearing, they’ve gone,” Aline said, still breathless from the idea.

He focused on the waters and said, “That means, would you not imagine, she is wearing them. I do not see any sign of a rowing boat out there.”

“So! You don’t see it; whatdoes that mean?”

“It means I don’t see a rowing boat, Sis.” He turned to her. “Look, admittedly, I’m in my mid-forties but in good shape. I don’t row on the water, but on a rowing machine at the gymnasium, I might row between eight and ten miles per hour. It is twenty-two miles to the nearest point on the mainland. Considering conditions, tide, wind, her strength, I’d say a few hours of rowing would be involved, and, like I said, there’s no sign of a rowing boat out there.”

“Why are you so damn calm? I thought you liked her, didn’t you admit that?”

“What has that got to do with it, Sis. I’m sure she will show up.”

“And the rowing boat?”

“Yes, that is strange, I’ll grant you. But I have no reason to believe the woman is in the missing rowing boat. The answer is probably quite simple. Now, if I can get dressed without my sister blowing into every room where I happen to be naked, I’d appreciate it. See you at breakfast. Now go… go on… shoo!”

Aline could not believe that Thomas was being so calm. There’s someone who cannot be found and has likely, in her opinion, rowed away from the island, putting herself in danger, despite her brother’s point of view that this is most unlikely, believing the limited view he has of the waters surrounding.

To reach his study, MacAlistair passed through the central feature of the castle, The Long Gallery, with its stone pillars and its string of fine paintings along one wall, while the other afforded fine views over the North Sea.

The study consisted of a rectangular desk under a window with panoramic views across the island shore. No sooner had he entered the study than the mystical magic of Hambleton arrived carrying a tray of tea.

“Good morning, Mr. MacAlistair. I hope you’re feeling well rested,” Hambleton said, resting the tray on a small table near the settee.

“David, I’ve requested several times that you call me Thomas, can we agree to this, finally?”

Hambleton stood straight, feet together, his hands clasped. “I’m sorry, sir. It feels quite inappropriate while I’m working.”

“I’m not a bloody Lord, David. Couldn’t you give me a break from the rules of courtesy?”

“Indeed not, sir. Is there anything else?”

MacAlistair smiled, shaking his head. “Nothing more…oh wait, did you perchance see Miss Blair Campell anywhere this morning?”

“Miss Aline asked the same question, sir. I did not see Miss Blair. Would you like to search the house?”

“No. David, that won’t be necessary. I’m sure she’ll show up for breakfast. Thank you for the tea, David.”

“You most welcome, Mr. MacAlistair,” Hambleton said, turning away and closing the study door.

MacAlistair opened the drawer to his desk and produced papers he wanted to review before breakfast. He was confident that he could raise the money to make an offer for Aeromart Airlines before it was forced into receivership.

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Harry Hogg

Ex Greenpeace, writing since a teenager. Will be writing ‘Lori Tales’ exclusively for JK Talla Publishing in the Spring of 2025