For some reason, Bernie didn’t want to come to Inverness with us. He shook his head and mumbled when the question was brought up. So it was decided that Bernie would stay with Li Jing while the Chief and I were away.
We took the early morning ferry over to Helensburgh and continued our journey north by train. I like travelling by train and the views of the Scottish Highlands are beautiful. We left the train in the town of Fort Augustus and joined the paddle steamer Glengarry that operates on the Caledonian Canal and Loch Ness route.
Late that afternoon the Chief and I finally stepped ashore in Inverness. We had a meal of smoked herring in a restaurant by the steamer quay and took the opportunity to enquire where the local children’s home was. The owner of the restaurant told us the way.
We walked past long rows of low, grey houses that huddled beneath an equally grey sky. A gale, now slowly abating, still whined and whistled round the church tower and the masts of ships.
Dusk was falling and squalls of rain were sweeping in from the North Sea. We’d soon left the town behind us and were starting to wonder whether we’d gone wrong somewhere. Then the Chief noticed a large, two-storied, stone building standing on its own, surrounded by a stone wall and a few bare trees.
“This is it, I think,” he said.
We took a narrow, gravel path that led from the road up to the house. There was a lamp over the front door and faint lights could be seen in one or two of the windows, but there were no other signs of life. The only sounds were the crunch of the gravel beneath our feet and the whine of the wind.
The Chief lifted the door knocker and knocked three times.
Nothing happened. The Chief knocked again.
We glimpsed a pale, wrinkled face through one of the windows at the side of the door and then there was the rattle of a lock being undone. The door opened, but only enough to allow an old man to peer out at us with bleary eyes.
“Who are you?” the man asked the Chief. “Are you a beggar? Are you hoping to get paid for showing that ape you’ve got with you?”
“No,” the Chief said. “My name is Henry Koskela and I’ve come a long way in order to meet the superintendent of this orphanage.”
The old man went away, leaving us standing in the porch. The house was completely silent, so the children must already have gone to bed. After a while we heard the approach of firm footsteps and a stern-looking woman, her grey hair in a bun, appeared. She stood in front of us and looked disapprovingly at me.
Then she turned to the Chief and said, “My name is Mildred Culduthel. Who are you and what do you want?”
The Chief introduced us and began to explain our business there.
Mrs Culduthel cut him short. “I’m afraid I can’t talk about any of the children who’ve lived at the Highland Orphanage. Not even Rose Henderson. Unfortunately, you’ve come all this way for nothing, Mr Koskela.”
She was about to turn on her heel and go when the Chief said, “It’s about a necklace we have found. A pearl necklace that belonged to the girl’s father.”
Mrs Culduthel came to an abrupt halt and stood speechless for a moment or two. Then she turned to the hunched doorman and said brusquely, “Go and make a pot of tea and bring it up to my office.”
She gestured to the Chief to follow her. “The ape can stay outside,” she said. “You can tie it to the handrail if you’re worried it’ll run away.”
I took a step forward, looked the superintendent straight in the eye and held out my hand for her to shake. Mrs Culduthel did not take my hand, but she did meet my eyes.
“Right then, let it come with us,” she said. “But I hold you responsible for any trouble it causes, Mr Koskela.”
Mrs Culduthel led us through a long corridor with a cold, flagstone floor, its walls lined with depressingly dark wooden panelling. Every so often we passed large portraits depicting various grim-faced men and women. These, I assumed, must be portraits of earlier superintendents of the orphanage.
The corridor led to a large hall with a high ceiling and a wide staircase that led up to the floor above.
I came to a sudden halt, staring at the staircase.
A strange feeling came over me.
Suddenly, here was something that felt very familiar… as if I’d been here before.
It was impossible, of course—I’d never ever been in Inverness in my life!
I tried to shake off the feeling and quickly followed the Chief and Mrs Culduthel up the stairs.