Revenge By Seduction

‘It should be. She’s one of the current “Chelsea set,”’ Madge said disdainfully. ‘They’ve all been in the shop at one time or another. Tailored suits and chiffon scarves. They go for the trendy female executive look, although I doubt if any of them has enough intelligence to hold down a job. When the Golden Hind dumps her, I for one won’t feel sorry.’

‘Well, I will,’ Catriona disagreed. ‘No girl deserves to be treated that way. We’ve all got feelings, haven’t we? We are not just put here as playthings to satisfy that man’s lust. He’s nothing but a moral degenerate who deserves to be smitten by the hand of vengeance, and I’ll be that hand if I only get half a chance.’

Madge raised delicate eyebrows. ‘Hmm… Very biblical language you Scots indulge in.’

Catriona felt a little sheepish after her outburst and she gave an embarrassed smile. ‘Aye. It comes from going to the kirk every Sunday and listening to the Reverend McPhee preaching fire and damnation from the pulpit. If he knew about me now he’d have me in sackcloth and ashes.’

‘I was never bothered by a conscience myself,’ Madge said brightly. ‘No doubt there’s a special place waiting for sinners like me, but in the meanwhile…’ She waved a negligent hand around the room. ‘I’ve been wise enough during my dissolute years to acquire this charming flat, a successful boutique in Chelsea and a nice little portfolio of shares for my old age. I never, ever met a man with whom I’d want to spend the rest of my life, but that never stopped me from using them for my own ends. Mind you, I never knowingly made an enemy, and most of those men and I are still good friends. I still manage to get invited to all the right places.’

Catriona regarded her with genuine affection. ‘I don’t care what kind of life you’ve led, Madge. To me you’ll always be an angel. Until I met you I was desperate and ready to slink back home with my tail between my legs. Then it all changed. You gave me a decent job and even a place to live. I’ll be eternally grateful to you.’

‘Well, you had such an honest face,’ Madge said with a grin. ‘You don’t see many faces like yours in London these days. In this day and age you have to learn to spot a fake at fifty yards or you get taken to the cleaners.’

‘Aye…’ muttered Catriona. ‘Just like I did.’

‘Oh, cheer up, girl! It isn’t the end of the world. You’ve got a broken heart and the world seems empty. But you’ll get over it. You’re young, but you’re a quick learner, and if you take my advice you’ll put this behind you and get on with your life.’

Catriona lowered her eyes. She didn’t want to hurt Madge’s feelings but Madge just didn’t understand. Where she came from such things were a matter of family honour, not to mention pride and self-respect. Ryan Hind had trampled that into the mud and one way or another he was going to pay. She didn’t yet know how she was going to go about it, but she’d find a way to make that man wish he’d never laid eyes let alone a hand on her.

Seeing Madge reach for the aspirin bottle again, she eased back her chair and got to her feet. ‘You were late home from that party last night and you’re still a bit under the weather. I know we were going to take stock in the shop today but I can quite easily do that on my own. Why don’t you just take it easy and have a day in bed?’

Madge looked at her gratefully. ‘That’s kind of you, dear. I’m afraid I can’t handle late nights like I used to. I’ll spend the day resting. But make no mistake, once my batteries are recharged I intend growing old disgracefully, so don’t order a Zimmer frame yet.’

Catriona cleaned up the breakfast things first, then tidied the lounge. Satisfied with her handiwork, she took a final look round, then smiled. When Madge had offered her a spare room in her flat at a nominal rent she’d never expected anything as grand as this!

Madge had taste and style. Period furniture and luxurious carpeting throughout, and double-glazed sliding doors led from the lounge onto a balcony offering a fine view over the river.

For a moment as she gazed out towards Chelsea Bridge she felt a brief tug of nostalgia for the wild seascapes and the rugged grandeur of the mountains surrounding Kindarroch, then she took a deep breath. Only losers allowed themselves to wallow in self-pity and homesickness.

She’d almost succumbed. Her first few weeks in London had been a heartbreaking round of menial, poorly paid jobs and a hunt for half-decent accommodation, and she’d been rapidly running out of money. It had only been because of Morag’s prediction that she’d meet someone who’d become a good friend that she’d stuck it out.

Of course, Morag had also said that she’d meet a rich, handsome man, but she’d neglected to tell her that he’d turn out to be a lying lecherous swine. But then perhaps she shouldn’t have taken Morag too seriously in the first place. It all seemed so long ago now, and yet it was only a couple of months or so since the day she’d decided to leave Kindarroch.

There were people in Kindarroch who’d have sooner walked barefoot over broken glass than cross the threshold of Morag’s cottage up on the hill, but Catriona wasn’t the least bit nervous.

The older generation, even her own mother, always spoke about Morag in whispers, after looking over their shoulders to see that she was nowhere around. Morag was the seventh daughter of a seventh daughter, so no one was surprised that she had the ‘gift’. She was a seer who had visions of the future. Well, that was quite acceptable in a culture where romantic myth and legend lived comfortably alongside satellite television and microwave ovens, but it was whispered that Morag could see right into your heart and mind. Naturally enough that made folk a little wary of her, because everyone has their little secrets, and they tended to avoid her eye as much as possible.

None of this bothered Catriona. As far as she was aware old Morag had never harmed a soul in her life and that was more than could be said about most.

She’d been on her way home from the post office when she’d spotted Morag ahead of her, bent over with a bag of shopping in each hand, and she’d caught up and offered assistance. And now that they’d reached the cottage it would have been churlish not to accept Morag’s invitation to come inside and have a cup of tea.

Morag removed her shawl and smiled gratefully. ‘Just put the bags down, Catriona, and make yourself comfortable while I go into the kitchen.’

She made herself at ease on a chair by the scrubbed pine table and looked around the tiny living room with mild curiosity. From the window you could see right across the harbour, empty now except for a few gulls waiting patiently on the sea wall for the arrival of a fishing boat. Towards the south the dark and jagged peaks of Skye were just visible above the hazy horizon.

As for the room itself, she found it faintly puzzling at first. It was clean, with everything polished to perfection, but it was so…so old-fashioned. It was like stepping into a time warp. That heavy wooden radio, for example. Casting her eye around, she saw that everything seemed to belong to the twenties or thirties.

Then she remembered the stories about Morag. It was said that she had come from one of the islands, sailing alone out of the morning mist into the harbour, a dark-haired, softly spoken girl of seventeen. She had fallen in love with a handsome young fisherman from the village and within a month they were married.

Then tragedy had struck. Two days after the wedding her new husband’s boat had been overwhelmed in a storm and all the crew had perished. Ever since that dreadful day she’d lived here by herself and it was said that she spent most of her time at the window staring out to sea awaiting the return of her lost love.

It was a story which always touched Catriona’s heart, but she’d often wondered… If Morag really did have the ‘gift’, why hadn’t she warned her husband not to sail that day? Then again, as some maintained, perhaps it had been the traumatic shock of losing him that had awakened the dormant power.

Once again she gazed around the room thoughtfully. Was this exactly how the place had looked when Morag had first set up her new home? Nothing added…nothing taken away…nothing changed from that day to this. Everything preserved and lovingly cared for. A shrine, in fact?

Suddenly she remembered something else. She’d been about eight years old at the time and a crowd of them had been playing down by the harbour. Jamie Reid had made a catapult and he was using the seagulls as target practice when Morag had descended on them.

‘Jamie Reid…’ she’d said in a soft, sorrowful voice. ‘Don’t you know that every seagull has the soul of a drowned sailor awaiting to be born again?’

It wasn’t the sort of thing eight-year-old kids thought about, but she’d never seen Jamie playing with that catapult again.

She stopped her reminiscing and got to her feet as Morag came through from the kitchen bearing a tray. ‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ she asked politely.

Morag smiled. ‘You’ve helped enough as it is. I’m still not too old to look after a guest.’

She smiled back and watched in silence as Morag poured two cups of tea. The knuckles on the crooked hands looked swollen and arthritic and she wondered just how old Morag really was. She had to be seventy-five at least. Her face was wrinkled, and yet in spite of her apparent frailty you could feel the inner strength and vibrant energy of the woman.

‘Well, now…’ Morag said, lowering herself carefully into a chair opposite. ‘It’s a while since I’ve seen you, Catriona. You’re quite the young lady now. Twenty-one, isn’t it?’

‘Aye. A month ago.’

Morag nodded and smiled. ‘You always were a pretty girl, but you’re even prettier now that you’re a woman. You’ve the sky-blue eyes of your mother and the red hair of your father. A McNeil if ever I saw one. And how are they both keeping, these days?’

‘Och, they’re fine enough, Morag. Like everyone else up here they’re just waiting for the fishing to get better so that folk have a bit of money in their pockets.’

‘Aye…’ Morag sighed and looked towards the window. ‘Times are hard, right enough. I dare say they’ll be a bit upset at first when you tell them you’re leaving.’

Catriona’s cup stopped halfway to her mouth and she blinked in astonishment. She hadn’t confided to anyone about the feelings of frustration and restlessness which had been tormenting her for weeks now. In fact it was only this very morning, while she’d been waiting in the queue at the post office, that she’d finally made up her mind to leave Kindarroch and try her luck down south.

‘How…how did you know?’ she managed faintly.

Morag’s eyes twinkled. ‘We’ll just call it a guess. Anyone can see that a girl like you shouldn’t have to waste her time in a backwater like this, just hoping for the best. For the last ten years anyone with an ounce of ambition in them has gone south where the opportunities are.’

Catriona accepted the explanation. ‘I suppose you’re right. There’s no work to be had in Kindarroch, that’s for sure.’

‘And not much chance of a girl finding a husband either,’ Morag added innocently.

Once again Catriona was jolted by surprise, and she quickly covered her embarrassment with a self-conscious laugh. ‘I really haven’t been giving it that much thought.’

‘Haven’t you?’ Morag asked, regarding her with fond amusement. ‘Well, if you say so. But I’ve an idea there’s a rich and handsome young man out there just waiting to fall in love with a girl like you.’

Catriona smiled in embarrassment. ‘Away with you. You’re just teasing. Anyway, he wouldn’t have to be rich…or even that handsome. I’d settle for someone with a kind heart, nice teeth and a sense of humour.’

Morag gave a nod of approval. ‘Aye…I know you would. So where are you thinking of going?’

She’d been trying to make her mind up about that. ‘I’m not sure. Edinburgh or Glasgow, I suppose. They’re not so far away that I can’t come back and visit my folks any time I feel homesick.’

Morag shook her head. ‘You’ll find what you’re looking for in London, and you’ll be far too busy to feel homesick.’