I wanted to see Kyla. Even though I’d made the bottle with the little protection charm inside, I was still worried about what she might have been saying to Gregor that awful night at the big house. Emotions had been running high then, and everyone had been sad about Isobel’s death and worried for little Christy. Now things had calmed down, I wanted to see her and talk to her and put my mind at rest. After all, we’d been friends since we were wee girls, running around on the beach and collecting shells. We’d laughed and cried together, and teased each other, and told each other our secrets. The way she’d looked at me when Christy started to recover – fearful and wary – was simply because of the illness in the house. That was all.
‘I’m away to see Kyla,’ I told Ma, a couple of days after I’d made the bottle. I’d thought Kyla would come to me and ask if I fancied a walk to the harbour, or perhaps our paths would have crossed when she was doing chores. But she hadn’t appeared, so I thought it was time I ventured to the big house to see if I could find her.
Ma was arranging her bottles, frowning slightly as she counted. I wondered if she’d realized there were some missing; it was time for me to go before she asked what I’d done with them.
‘Where are you going?’ she said, not looking at me but still glaring into her cupboard.
‘Not sure,’ I lied, hoping she would assume I was meeting Kyla at the beach. Ma wouldn’t want me going to the big house even though Kyla worked there. It wasn’t somewhere you went without being asked.
‘Be back by dark.’
I nodded. The nights were longer now, and without actually agreeing to do it, Ma and I had somehow fallen into a routine of being warm inside, with the bar across the door and the animals all shut up, by the time darkness fell. It felt safer that way.
Outside it was freezing. Winter was coming early this year. I pulled my cloak around me and put the hood up over my cold ears, glad of the warm wool. It was a gloomy day and I saw some houses had candles lit already even though it wasn’t much past lunchtime.
I walked up the road to the big house. I wasn’t completely sure why I’d chosen to go that way – it was much quicker cutting through the fields at the back of our house – but I sort of felt as though I shouldn’t sneak up to the house. That seemed wrong somehow, as though I was doing something that I shouldn’t be doing.
The big house had a long approach, and as I trudged up I felt as though it was watching me. How silly. The windows were blank, like unseeing eyes. I thought I saw movement in one of the upper floors, but perhaps I was mistaken.
I didn’t go to the front door, of course. I knew my place. Instead I went round the side and rang the bell at the kitchen.
The cook answered. She stood there, in her funny white dress, and looked at me without recognition.
‘Yes?’
‘I’m Alice Seton,’ I said, folding my hood back so she could see my face. ‘I’m looking for Kyla.’
The woman ran her eyes over me, head to toe and back again. Her lip curled slightly and I wondered if the servants at the big house had been talking about us.
‘Is Kyla here?’
She shook her head. ‘She’s busy.’
‘I understand, but could I see her for just a minute? It’s important.’
‘She’s not here.’
‘Where is she?’
The cook rolled her eyes. ‘She is working.’
‘Fine,’ I said. ‘Please tell her I called.’
The woman had closed the door before I’d even finished speaking. But as she’d told me Kyla was too busy to see me, I’d seen her gaze shift to the barn at the opposite side of the yard. Kyla must be in there, I thought. No doubt she’d been sent to collect some milk, or eggs, or something else. The cook had obviously been worried she would emerge just when I was standing there and make her look silly.
‘Thank you,’ I called through the kitchen door. ‘I’ll just go home then.’
There was silence.
Pulling my hood up again, I headed for the barn. I hesitated at the doorway as my eyes adjusted to the gloom inside.
It wasn’t a large barn. There was a pen with a cow in it, lying down. She looked at me with large brown eyes as I approached. It was hard to see inside so I stood on one of the rungs of the fence and peered over. No sign of Kyla in the pen. Though she was scared of our goats so I doubted that she’d be comfortable around this beast.
I sighed. Clearly I’d got it wrong and Kyla wasn’t here after all. Ah well, I’d try again tomorrow.
I jumped down and turned to go, but as I did, I saw a bucket made from a half barrel, full of milk next to the pen. I touched my hand to the liquid. It was warm – so obviously hadn’t been there long. Kyla had been told to come and collect the milk then, just as I’d suspected. But where was she?
‘Kyla?’ I said quietly, feeling a bit nervous suddenly though I didn’t know why. I picked up the milk. ‘Kyla? It’s Alice. I’ve got the milk for you.’
A sudden movement at the end of the barn caught my eye. I walked forward a few steps to where there were some hay bales stacked and there was Kyla.
She was lying back on the hay, her skirt rucked up around her waist, her eyes closed, cheeks flushed, and an expression of pure ecstasy on her face. And on top of her, his torso bare and Kyla’s hands gripping his broad back as he thrust into her, was Lachlan Murdoch.
‘Ohhh,’ I said aloud. Kyla opened her eyes, and gave me a defiant glance and then she pulled Lachlan’s chest down on top of her, writhing underneath him as though she was putting on a show. Which, in a way, she was.
I had no idea why I stood there, hand gripping the pail of milk, but I couldn’t move – couldn’t tear my eyes away from the sight of my oldest and dearest friend and the man I thought I loved.
Lachlan gave a shuddering moan and collapsed on top of Kyla, laughing into her neck. She kissed him and then, over his shoulder, looked at me again. This time she gasped as though she’d not seen me before. But I knew she had.
‘Oh my goodness, Alice,’ she said, scrambling out from underneath Lachlan’s large frame. She pulled her skirt down over her legs, faking modesty now while Lachlan sat up, slowly and languidly, pulling on his shirt.
I glowered at Kyla. ‘The cook will be waiting for your milk,’ I said. I gestured angrily with the bucket and some of the liquid sloshed out and spilled onto the floor.
Immediately a rank, sour smell rose up, catching in my throat and making me gag. Kyla stood up.
‘What have you done?’ she said.
Hurt, I stared at her. ‘What have I done? You knew how I felt …’ I looked at Lachlan but somehow he didn’t seem so handsome now. His face was gaunter than I remembered, more rat-like, and his shoulders didn’t look so wide and strong. His mouth had a mean thinness and his eyes were narrow. ‘Never mind,’ I said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’
The smell of the milk was stronger, hanging heavily in the air and coating my nostrils. I tried not to breathe in too deeply.
‘What have you done?’ Kyla said again. She looked frightened. Her eyes wide and fearful. ‘Alice …’
She looked down at the bucket and I followed her gaze. The milk had separated into a greyish thin liquid with lumps of fatty curds floating on top.
Shocked, I let go of the handle and the pail fell on to the floor of the barn, spilling across the cobbles in lumps. The sickening smell of the sour milk was unbearable. I covered my mouth with my hand and Kyla did the same. Lachlan didn’t – after all, he spent all day around the stench of fish – but he looked rattled.
‘Did you do this?’ he said to me. ‘Did you sour the milk?’
‘No. Of course I didn’t. It was sour already.’ I answered quickly but even as I said it, I was wondering if that was true. Had the milk been sour when I picked up the bucket? Surely I’d have smelled it when I bent down to see if it was fresh?
‘You soured the milk,’ Lachlan said.
Kyla shook her head, joining in. ‘You did this.’
‘I didn’t,’ I protested. ‘How could I? It’s not possible.’
Lachlan picked up his shirt and with his trousers still not fastened properly, he almost ran out of the barn, without looking back. Kyla turned to me, her face twisted with fear. Or was it hatred? I couldn’t tell.
‘Get away from me,’ she hissed.
I backed away on trembling legs. ‘Kyla,’ I begged. ‘I didn’t do this. You know me.’
But she didn’t listen. ‘Get away,’ she said. ‘Witch.’