Really Weird Removals.com (15 page)

Andy's wife, Hilda, has set up a lovely welcome for us. She lists the menu: a delicious stew with potatoes called “reestit mutton”, sea trout with buttery toast, and a mouth-watering treacle cake.

“I hope you're enjoying our Shetland hospitality,” she says warmly. Hilda has white-blonde hair, blue eyes, and an open smile.

“Very much, thank you, Mrs Moller,” I reply.

“Mmmmm. Mmmmm….” says Valentina. “This fish is amazing.” She's at her third helping.

“I'll give you some to take back,” says Hilda, generously.

“Yes, please. My mum would love all this. She's a great cook too.”

“I'll give you the recipes as well.”

“Thank you!” we say in unison.

“I'm back…” A little voice comes from under the table. Camilla.

Alistair nods, without looking down.

“I think I found the ghost.”

“
Speak later!
” whispers Alistair as soon as Hilda turns her back, and Camilla perches herself on the windowsill, waiting patiently.

The Mollers have invited a few people, to give us a proper Shetland welcome. There's music, chat and 
whisky for everyone – orange juice for Valentina and I – until the small hours.

The music is amazing – a few fiddles and an accordion, played brilliantly. Valentina and Uncle Alistair clap and tap their feet, smiling broadly. They both have music in their blood, I think.

The musicians take a break – more food prepared by Hilda – and Alistair takes us outside for a minute, to speak with Camilla.

“So. Who's this ghost?”

“A grumpy man. With a cap and wellies, and a long red scarf. He didn't say his name; he says he wants to speak to Andy.”

“Did he seem reasonable to you?”

“S'pose.”

“Where shall we find him?”

“He says Andy knows.”

“Where did
you
find him?”

“I didn't. He found
me
. In a field. Not sure which field, the place is full of them.”

“Fair enough. I'll tell Andy tomorrow.”

It's past midnight when we make it to our room. Our beds are soft and wonderfully warm. We fall asleep to the sound of the sea and the wind whistling around our window, with the fiddle music still drifting from the living room. Fiddles and the sea, a real Shetland lullaby. 

The next morning, while we’re having a lovely breakfast of herring on toast, Uncle Alistair clears his throat.

“Andy, we found your ghost. Actually, he found us. He wants to speak to you.” Andy’s face turns a pale shade of green. “An old man, with cap, wellies and a long red scarf. You must know who he is. Or at least have some idea. He says you know where to find him.”

“A long red scarf?” he mutters. His face goes white, then bright red, then green again.

Uncle Alistair looks at him with narrowed eyes.

“I think you
know
what all this is about, Andy.”

Andy swallows. He seems about to faint. Hilda helps him to a chair.

“What’s going on, Andy?” she says. 

“Never you mind, Hilda. I’ll sort it,” he says brusquely, but puts his hand on hers.

We’re driving in Andy’s dark-green Jeep, through lush, shiny green fields. The sea seems all around us. We can see it from every direction.

“A bit drizzly, isn’t it?” Andy says. It’s
pouring
. Lashing down so hard that you’d get soaked in minutes. And possibly drown.

“A bit,” says Valentina.

“A touch,” I say.

“A shadow,” says Alistair.

“Yes, a shadow,” agrees Andy.

“No, I mean, a
shadow
! There!” Uncle Alistair is pointing somewhere beyond the thick curtain of rain.

Andy brakes suddenly, and we all get propelled forward, our breath taken away by our seat belts.

“It’s him!” whispers Andy. He’s green again.

“Where?” asks Valentina. We peer. The rain is so heavy, we can hardly make out anything.

“There, there, look! In front of us!” Andy is now properly panicked.

I can see him now. A human shape, greyish, blurry, like Camilla gets sometimes. The rain seems to go through him, yet somehow it flows around him as well, so that he looks like he’s
made
of rain.

He’s stopped right in front of us, blocking our way.

The rainy shape lifts his arm, and waves.

“He’s telling us to follow him,” says Uncle Alistair. 

“Yes. Yes,” whispers Andy, and starts the car again, following the flying ghost.

“You know what this is about, don’t you?” asks Alistair.

Andy nods. I can see he’s terrified.

To be honest, so am I. An avenging ghost on a stormy day. Just about the
last
thing I want to see.

We drive for another wee while, until we get to what looks like an abandoned, half-ruined whitewashed cottage. Andy stops right in front of it.

“Right, let’s go!” says Uncle Alistair.

“Right on!” echoes Camilla.

“Coming!” says Valentina.

Andy and I say nothing. We stay glued to our seats.

“Come on! We need to sort it. Andy, let’s go.”

We obey. My legs are like lead. We all run to the door of the cottage, looking for shelter from the pouring rain. The noise is so strong, I can’t hear a thing.

Andy tries the door. It’s open. We all walk in, leaving wet footprints on the wooden floor.

It’s a dark, cold, ruined shell of a place, with debris everywhere and spider webs hanging from the ceiling. Still, there are pictures on the walls and a sofa. Curtains. A sink and a stove with a kettle on it.

There’s no doubt. This rundown place is somebody’s home.

“Iain!” cries Andy.

The ghost is called Iain?

“Iain, it’s me. Andy.”

A door opens slowly. Slowly. 

We all hold all breath, expecting the shadow to come out…

A man.

Standing in front of us, there’s…
another Andy
.

Andy and Other Andy look at each other, like in a mirror. They’re identical twins.

“What do
you
want?” says Other Andy – I mean Iain – gruffly.

“Alistair Grant!” says Uncle Alistair, taking Iain’s hand and shaking it. “And this is my nephew, Luca, and my niece, Vally. Goodness, we’re soaked! Any chance of a cup of tea?”

“Why are you shouting, Alistair Grant?” grunts Iain.

“Because I’m deaf,” answers Uncle Alistair, without missing a beat.

“Right, fair enough. I’ll put the kettle on. Take a seat.”

We look at each other. Andy is looking down. His chin is shaking.

“Iain…”

“What? Are you going to ask me how I’m doing? How I’ve been doing in the last twenty years?” cries out Iain.

“I… I….”

“Nice of you to ask. Not so good, since Mary died.”

“I’m sorry…” mutters Andy.

“Wait a minute. You’re twins, and you haven’t spoken for twenty years?” cries out Valentina.

“It was
his
fault!” shouts Andy.

“It was
his
doing!” cries Iain.

“Are you
crazy
? You’re brothers! And you,” she points at Andy, “live in that lovely, warm farm, with a really nice wife… while your twin is living in a
ruin
, on his
own
?” 

Andy looks down, sheepishly.

“Hold your horses, Valentina. Let them explain,” says Uncle Alistair, and sits down on the dusty sofa. “This cup of tea?”

“Coming,” grunts Iain, and busies himself. Everybody is looking towards the two men; I’m the only one who’s in sight of the window, and the only one who notices a shadow passing quickly in front of the glass. The shadow has a weird shape… Like a human being, but his head is… wrong. I take a sideways step towards the window, and look out, just in time to see a strange creature, with the body of a man and the head of a wolf, running away towards the open fields. It’s the Luh! I’m about to alert Uncle Alistair and Valentina – better not let Andy know that the Luh is here – when Valentina tugs at my sleeve.

“Where’s the ghost?” she whispers.

“Look up,” says Camilla.

We all look up. I gasp, and Valentina lets out a small scream.

Right over our heads, there’s an old man. Lying on the ceiling, so to speak, like you would lie on the floor. Looking down on us. He’s glowing faintly blue.

“What is it?” cry Andy and Iain, in unison. It’s uncanny, they even have the same voice.

“I take it that’s your dad?” says Uncle Alistair
matter-of-factly
, pointing up.

“AAAAAAAAAARGH!” cries Andy, and faints.

“Ooooooooooooooooh…” whispers Iain, and passes out.

“They always were easily scared,” says the ghost, and floats down to sit beside Alistair. 

Uncle Alistair throws some cold water on the twins’ faces, and they come to, spluttering.

“I knew you’d listen if I started taking your sheep! You always cared about sheep more than you cared for human beings!” booms the ghost. He sounds a bit echoey, just like Camilla.

“That’s not true! Are they ok?” mutters Andy.

“See?” says the ghost, looking at us. “What did I say? Cares more about the sheep than about us! Mark my words! Yes, they are fine and well, Andrew. In the old shed. And how’s my Hilda? She always was a dear one, too good for you! The daughter I never had!”

“She’s fine, Dad.”

“Good. You
promised
, Andrew,” says the ghost, and he’s so upset, he blurs a little. “You promised on my deathbed you’d make up with Iain. But you didn’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

“And look at him now! Since Mary died, he’s on his own! Look at the way he’s living!”

“Dad…” mutters Iain, eyes downcast.

Uncle Alistair is watching the scene intently. He has a strange look in his eyes, an expression I can’t quite understand. Like someone who’s lost something, and wants it back.

“I’m going to have to go soon,” continues the ghost, “for good. Before I go, I need to know you’re reconciled. I need to know Iain is not alone.”

“What did you fight about, anyway?” asks Valentina.

“We went to an auction…”

“A livestock auction…”

“And Andy took the best ram –” 

“And Iain nearly stole it –”

“I had it first!”

“It was mine!”

“A RAM! TWENTY YEARS OF SILENCE FOR A RAM!” booms the ghost, and his voice is so powerful that it shakes the windows. We all put our hands to our ears.

“There goes the rest of my hearing,” says Uncle Alistair, grimacing. “Look, the two of you. You need to talk this through, ok. Why don’t you go for a wee walk? To get some space?”

“No!” I shout. Everybody looks at me. “I mean… it’s so wet, outside.” I raise my eyebrows, looking straight at Uncle Alistair. The Luh is out there – if Andy sees it… Hopefully Uncle Alistair will catch my drift.

He does, of course.

“Luca is right! It’s very wet indeed! IT’S A FLOOD! Off you go to the bedroom then, come on!” he shepherds them through, like a sheep dog.

“But we…” Andy begins.

“SEE YOU IN A BIT!” booms Uncle Alistair, and closes the bedroom door right in his face. “What is it, Luca?”

“
The
Luh. Outside!
” I whisper.

“Pfff, Luhs!” The ghost, now floating in
mid-air
, dismisses us. “Harmless creatures. My dad was obsessed with them, and so are my sons. Nonsense, I say, NONSENSE!”

“Yeah, well. Tea?” offers Uncle Alistair, politely.

“I WISH!” says the ghost, and his voice resonates like an echo. 

Uncle Alistair does make tea and we clear a space on the sofa and warm up gradually, chatting about Shetland life and the afterlife for an hour or so.

“Here they come!” exclaims Valentina. The door that Alistair shut on Andy opens and the twins walk out, both red in the face.

“I’m sorry, Dad,” blurts out Andy.

“I’m sorry too,” sobs Iain.

“We made peace.”

“We did.”

“At last!”

“At long last!”

“IAIN!”

“ANDY!”

They turn towards each other, go in for a hug, get all flustered, and settle for a handshake, their eyelashes moist and their eyes shiny.

I look at Uncle Alistair. He’s drying a tear. I think I know what’s going through his mind: the twelve years in which my dad refused to speak to him.

“Don’t dare fight again or I’ll be back!” the ghost admonishes. He’s slowly disappearing, getting more and more transparent. He seems to be becoming water, dripping on the floor from every bit of his body. A real Shetland ghost, I think, turning into sea and rain.

“Never!” the twins say, in unison.

“It’s time for me to go, now… Thank you, Alistair Grant! Thank you children!” says the old man. One last look at his sons, and he dissolves right in front of our eyes, leaving a little puddle of rain and a bit of blue liquid, the same colour as the night sky. 

On the way back, Uncle Alistair is very quiet, and lost in thought. A conversation between Aunt Shuna and my mum came back into my mind.

“
To think they were so close
.
”

“
Were they? It doesn’t look like it now.”

“It’s true. Wherever Alistair was, there was Duncan. So different in personality, and yet… they were best friends.
”

I just hope things can be that way again. I hope it can all be sorted out, just like for Andy and Iain.

It’s time for us to go. We’re packing up our van, when I notice something beside it. It’s a parcel, all wrapped up, to protect it from the rain.

I unwrap it. Inside, there are three beautiful sea trouts.

A gift of fish, from a Luh who’s happy to be off the hook.