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13

She had never seen anything like it. Well, maybe in her nightmares, but not in real life. It was the study – she could just about tell that much from the large desk beneath the window, though almost all of it was buried under a sea of paper. Notebooks, paper pads, loose sheets. There was a computer in the corner, or at least she thought there was an entire computer, as she could only make out the top of the monitor; everything below had been swallowed up by yet more notebooks.

Three filing cabinets stood beside one of the bookshelves. They were the nicest filing cabinets Bex had ever seen, gunmetal with dark leather trim along the front and sides, but any charm was overshadowed by their chaotic state. The drawers were halfway open, with papers spilling out at all angles.

‘They can’t be serious,’ Bex muttered, moving cautiously towards the desk.

She picked up a piece of paper – a printed receipt for £350 – but it was faded, and where it was from was anyone’s guess as the logo at the top was covered in what appeared to be a coffee stain. She shuffled a few steps to the left, picked up another faded receipt, this one handwritten, and then a large black notebook. It was the kind of accountant’s ledger used decades ago, with neat columns for numbers to track everything in. But the printed neat lines were where the order ended. Traditionally, black ink meant money coming in, and red meant money going out. But here, there were black, red, blue, green – even purple – scribbles along the margins.

‘What the hell is purple supposed to mean?’ She could feel a tightness constricting her throat.

Nigel hadn’t been joking about this being a big job. But two months? She’d need two months just to impose some order on the place, let alone start on the actual accounts. What this office needed was a goddamn house clearance, not an accountant.

‘Who the hell writes in purple?’ she said again, loudly this time, angrily slamming the ledger closed.

‘My late wife Winny was a fan of different colours,’ came a voice behind her.

Bex spun around. There, standing in the doorway, was Fergus. His scowl was still in place, although softened by a look of sadness in his eyes, which he swallowed down before he nodded his head towards Ruby. ‘Looks like this one has taken a liking to you.’

‘I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,’ Bex stammered. ‘I didn’t mean to offend you.’

He huffed. ‘No, no offence taken. No point lying about it – I know what bad shape it’s in.’

‘Yeah, it’s not great,’ Bex said, not sure how else to word it herself.

‘So, do you think you can get it sorted for me?’ he asked, before shuffling inwards. ‘There’s a computer in here somewhere – not sure if you’ve seen it. My nephew Kieron insisted I have one. He thinks it works. I’ll be honest, he’s the one who set it up, and I haven’t touched it since, but… he’s good with these things.’

There was an optimism to Fergus’s voice. A hope. Almost like Bex would sweep in and be able to fix it all with a wave of her magic accounting wand.

Bex nodded. ‘I’ve got a laptop I can use for most of it,’ she said, like the old computer was the biggest of their problems.

She was half-tempted to suggest hiring a house clearance team, but that wouldn’t help anyone right now. She needed to get through this herself. Nigel’s words echoed in her head. It wouldn’t be easy, but it would be worth it. Well, he hadn’t been joking about the first bit. Whether it would be worth it or not was irrelevant to her. She just had to get through it.

‘Well, I was going to take the dogs for a walk,’ Fergus said. ‘Head down to the loch and give my sister a ring. Unless, of course, you want my help in here?’

Bex shook her head. From her experience, working with people’s accounts was a little like helping them move out of their houses. They didn’t just see the numbers, they saw the stories behind those numbers, and as such, a simple question like ‘do you remember what you spent this on?’ could end up in a twenty-minute monologue about the time they went on holiday and saw a python, or some other such unnecessary tale. For now, she needed to get to grips with what was there herself.

‘Maybe later, if that’s okay,’ she replied.

Fergus nodded, then moved to the doorway. ‘You coming with me?’ he said to Ruby. The dog slumped down onto her belly, at which he let out a sad chuckle. ‘Well, I think she’s yours now.’

Bex tried to reciprocate the smile, but there was something so sad about the situation. Not just the amount of work she had to do, but this whole place. This empty castle. Fergus here alone. At least he had his sister and nephew. That was something.

Fergus turned to leave, but before he left, he paused, looking back at her.

‘It wasn’t always this bad,’ he said softly. ‘It’s just… when you get old, you start putting off the things you don’t care about so much. And I’m very old now, and paperwork, as you can see, is something I don’t care about too much.’

Bex felt another pang of sympathy for the old man. A place this size probably had an endless list of things that needed doing. It made sense that he’d neglect the paperwork. But that didn’t change the fact that she was the one who had to deal with it now. Meaning, the sooner she got started, the better.

14

The chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway sounded again. It felt like every ten minutes it needed to announce how quickly time was passing – and how little Bex was managing to get done.

She’d decided to start with the desk. It seemed to have more space, and a fair amount of rubbish, too. Flyers, notes, bank statements, statements from old insurance companies dating back ten years – things she could file away and not worry too much about. She hoped that, once she’d cleared some space on the desk, she’d be able to think a little more clearly. But it felt never-ending, like every time she moved one piece of paper, two more multiplied in its place. She counted the clock chimes, unsure whether it had been four or five strikes, and was contemplating finding her phone to check what the time was when there was a knock on the door.

She had been half expecting Fergus to pop in, possibly around lunchtime, to see how she was doing, but there had been no sign of him. And she was grateful. Any conversation meant time away from the task, and she didn’t have any time to spare. Even if it had just been ten minutes. Rather than taking any form of lunch break, and having no luck locating any coffee in the castle, she’d polished off her stone-cold cappuccino and shoved her second croissant of the day into her mouth, the end of which she had given to Ruby, who’d managed to find a clear spot over by the window and had spent the entire day basking in the sun there. Now, though, as the knock resounded through the air, the dog lifted her head.

‘Yes, come in,’ called Bex. It felt silly saying come in to Fergus. After all, it was his home and his office, but when the door opened, standing there – unexpectedly – was Duncan. Memories of that static shock that had sparked through her fingers flashed in her mind, and she tried to quash them as quickly as possible.