Wilberforce Dynamite (aka Bike) Part 622 by Angharad

The journey, had it been another day, could have been breathtaking. We went through part of the Grampians, so I was informed, which even I knew was where Ben Nevis lived. That’s the tallest mountain in the UK. When all of this is over, I must come back up here and enjoy it, not be looking for suspicious vehicles or helicopters. My dream still worried me.

We followed signs for Pitlochry, which I half recollected from a geography lesson. I also remember a geology teacher telling us that Scotland had broken off North America and collided with England, hence the difference in the type of geology and terrain.

It’s funny, I’d been to North Wales, then the Lake District which looked like a bigger version of North Wales and now Scotland, which looked like a larger version of the Lake District.

The weather decided things hadn’t looked bleak enough, so it clouded over and a short time later began to rain. On the floor of the car was a large metal box, inside which I presumed were the shotguns. Were the authorities aware that they were here? Why weren’t the police with us or staking out the place, or even using a military force? It puzzled me, but then I was taking the part of the goat tethered to the tree while others were tiger shooting.

I had no idea what the Cameron’s ancestral pile looked like, but I knew it would be different to castles in England, which were huge mediaeval structures usually built by the Normans to either keep the Welsh out or the local peasants down. Most were ruins or Victorian refurbishments which made the whole thing look surreal.

Suddenly we could make out a shape amongst the trees. “That’s where we’re going,” Jason told us.

“What?” I gasped at the gothic building in the distance. “That’s Stanebury?”

“Yep, pretty innit?”

I pointed it out to the girls and they bounced up and down in their seats with excitement. “It looks like a fairy tale castle, Mummy. Are there any dragons or wizards?” Trish asked.

“I don’t wike dwagons,” said Mima cuddling into me.

“No, there aren’t any dragons or wizards, nor are there any witches nor anyone else bad. It’s an enchanted castle where only nice things happen.” I averted my eyes from Jason who was giving me a very strange look–the sort which suggested Armageddon was a few hours away, whereas I was about to launch into some story about the tooth fairy or a secret treasure.

“Are we really staying there?”

“Yes, we are, Trish, a magic castle for two fairy princesses and the beautiful queen, their mother.” Jason was laying it on with a trowel.

“Did you hear that, Mummy, we’re two fairy princesses and you’re a fairy queen.”

Well, I’d been called a fairy before, but never a queen, so was this a promotion up the social scale? I had my doubts. “Of course, dear, my two lovely princesses.” I put an arm around each of them and hugged them to me, praying that we’d all survive the next few days.

We eventually turned off the main road, then after a couple of miles of secondary road, turned into a driveway, through a gatehouse with gatekeeper and thence up a winding driveway into a hanging woodland. Below us in the distance was a lake or loch and a large stream or river which flowed into it. It was amazing, even in the rain, it was truly wonderful.

Finally, we drove over a small drawbridge and into the central courtyard, where we parked and from the main door came a man with an enormous umbrella. “Lady Catherine?” he asked.

“I’m Catherine, yes.”

“I’m John Dunstan, the Laird’s head of household. I run this place for the Laird.”

“Pleased to meet you, this is Tricia and this cheeky little monkey is Mima. This, girls, is Mr Dunstan.” They both said hello, and under his umbrella we walked briskly into the house, or should that be castle?

“Wow,” was all I could say. It was so ornate with painted walls and ceilings, it was just–wow!

“Visitors are suitably impressed by the décor, ma’am.”

“Mr Dunstan, please, I’m Cathy.”

“If you don’t mind, as Mr Simon’s wife, you’ll be Lady Catherine, and perhaps lady of this estate one day. I’d prefer we treated you as if you were already Lady Catherine, it will save confusion later for the staff.”

“I, um, don’t know…”

“I’ve sought the advice of the Laird himself and he agreed with me.”

“What can I say?” I asked blushing.

“Excellent, that’s sorted then.” He took the girls’ hands and led us up an ornate staircase to a suite of rooms. “These are Mr Simon’s usual rooms, I hope they’re suitable. I’ve put the girls in the dressing room, through here.” He led us through a connecting door into a room larger than my bedroom in Bristol–and this was a dressing room?

Through another door was a bathroom with shower cabinet and toilet. It was all delightful if a trifle OTT for a grammar school girl. We looked out of the small windows into the woodland beyond. The walls were extremely thick and the window sills were easily a yard long leading into the wall, although those facing into the courtyard, which were large and often with balconies beyond. Simon’s room had a balcony and I opened the French window and stepped onto it.

If anywhere felt safe, it had to be here. However, I needed to find out where the girls could hide if there was any attack. Whilst the girls went out onto the balcony, I asked Mr Dunstan where they would go?

He showed me small door next to the fireplace, “In here, ma’am,” inside was a small chamber with a couple of chairs and a table. It looked as safe as anywhere. That relieved me a little and I showed the girls where it was and made sure they could open the door.

The sound of a helicopter filled the air and remembering my dream I screamed to the girls to go to the little room and stay there. “It’s okay, Lady Catherine, it’s just the Laird arriving.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Dunstan, we’ve had a few bad experiences recently.”

“I understand perfectly, Lady Catherine, shall I get your daughters out, I’m sure you’d like to see the Laird.”

“No it’s okay, Mr Dunstan, they’ll want to come with me. Is Lady Monica here?”

“She was, she’s gone down to Edinburgh to collect some curtains she ordered, she’ll be back tomorrow.”

Good old Monica, the rest of us are expecting World War Three and she’s gone to get new curtains–one of us has no idea of the gravity of the situation–I hope it’s me.

Henry walked with sticks from the helicopter, he was making good progress seeing as he was in plaster a few days before. We hugged, and the girls gave him an enthusiastic welcome.

“Welcome to my humble home,” he said kissing me on the cheek.

“Humble, this place is fit for a king, Henry.”

“Yes, I know, my ancestors had some difficulty keeping it from the king, and various queens as well. Victoria was quite taken with it, before that one or two of the Georges nearly visited, until we were able to put them off. Well, it’s still ours, and perhaps one day, even these two little angels. A fairy tale castle for two fairy princesses.”

“Yes, Jason said that to them on the drive here.”

“Hmm, he’s pinching all my best lines, is he?”

“No, he doesn’t have your skill in delivery.”

“You flatter me, madam.”

“But of course, kind sir,” I did a mock curtsey, “I ’as to keep in wiv me betters, dun I?”

“You do very well, Eliza,” he said bowing to me.

“Mummy’s name is Caffy, not Wiza.”