The Flames of Sligachan

By Amy Brannigan and Caroline Brannigan

Zoe peered out of the train window at the late
afternoon sunshine pouring over the huge, granite-grey
shape of a big old house. Are we there yet? moaned
her brother Andrew beside her.
Its been ages and ages! grumbled his twin Antony,
who was sitting beside Andrew with his arms folded
and looking grumpy.
Not far now, answered Zoe, feeling quite the little
mother to her nine-year-old brothers, even though she
was only 11 herself. Not taking her eyes off the huge
house which was so close now that she could see its
grimy windows, she felt a nervous fluttering in her
stomach. Andrew and Antony stared out of the train
window.
That cant be where were going, can it? asked
Andrew, looking in disgust at the building with its little
turrets and rounded corners, a cross between a house
and a castle.
No, I dont think so. Mum said Sligachan was quite a
big house, but I didnt think it was going to be as big as
that, explained Zoe. She thought back to the day her
parents had told them the three children were to have
a special treat, to go to stay with Miss McDougal at
Sligachan House.
It had all sounded wonderful then, to leave their home
in Newcastle to go to the Scottish house where her
mother had stayed as a child. But it didnt sound as
good when she heard that her parents would not be
going too. They had to visit Granny in London who
wasnt very well and Mum said it would be very boring
for the children.
But now the dark, gloomy mansion had come into view
around the corner of the railway track, she wasnt so
sure. She hoped that wasnt where they were going.
Yet there were no other buildings to be seen and an
announcement over the carriage speaker said their
stop was fast approaching. It was in just the right
place, as her mother had described, at the foot of a
mountain, a wood behind and the railway track just in
front.
Suddenly, Antony cried out, Look, look! Theres
somebody at the window watching us, all pale and
strange. But when the other two looked towards
where he was pointing, there was nothing to be seen.
Stop pulling our legs, said Zoe, angrily, for she was
already starting to worry about how menacing
Sligachan House appeared.
Im not pulling your leg, I really did see something,
argued Antony.
Do us a favour Ant, and shut up yawned Andrew. The
train was slowing down now and finally pulled with a
clanking noise into a station. Old metal columns curled
up towards a leaf-strewn glass canopy, making the
platform gloomy.
Zoe said loudly, over all the noise, This must be our
station! Dont forget your suitcases and mind the gap
when we get out. I dont want you falling under the
train! Zoe liked bossing her brothers around.
She stepped gracefully down on to the platform and
her brothers tumbled out behind her. Andrew
pretended to get his leg stuck in the gap but Zoe
wasnt fooled. Stop messing about! she said, grumpily.
At first there seemed to be nobody there to meet
them but suddenly a shadowy figure loomed towards
them. For a moment, they couldnt see who it was and
jumped in fright. A dark outline seemed to support a
face so pale as to be almost floating in space.
Then a gentle Scottish voice said, Hello, you must be
the Bramley children. Im Mrs McDougal. So pleased to
meet you. Now lets get back to Sligachan House
before it gets too dark.
Andrew whispered into his sisters ear, I thought you
said it was Miss!
Shhh! Zoe didnt want to offend the woman who stood
in front of her. Antony gaped at the curly, grey-haired
little woman who was now leading the way out of the
station towards a battered old cart in front of which
stood a dappled grey pony, pawing at the ground with
its hoof.
Antony hissed at Zoe, Im sure thats the person I saw
at the window! But when I saw her there, she was
ghostly white! Zoe ignored him, with her nose in the
air.
Mrs McDougal helped them into the cart, looking them
up and down. Those are very thin, odd looking clothes
youve got on, she said. Its tweeds and woollens for
the Highlands, you should know.
The three children were surprised. Their mum had
kitted them out in warm new coats in the latest
waterproof fabric. Who would want to get soaked in
heavy wool? Zoe looked at Mrs McDougals thick black
skirt, almost brushing the ankles, and the scratchy
looking cloak which hid the upper half of her body.
After a short ride bumping over the rough, pot-holed
track, Mrs McDougal pulled the pony and cart to a stop
outside the huge, dark bulk of Sligachan House.
Zoes heart sank when she saw that it was indeed the
place they had seen from the train. Mrs McDougal led
them up to a heavy oak door which she opened with a
strong shove of her shoulder. It creaked, loudly.
I dont like this, said Andrew, as they followed the
woman inside. They found themselves in a high hallway
where a staircase disappeared up and around corners
into the darkness of another storey. Suddenly, he
grabbed Zoe and whispered, Did you see that?
See what? whispered Zoe, impatiently. She was
getting very annoyed with her brothers. Andrew
pointed at a big painting of a very important, rich
looking man on the wall. He scowled at me and waved
his fists!
Stop talking rubbish, muttered Zoe, Thats
impossible!
After steaming bowls of scotch broth soup in the
cavernous and chilly dining room, the children were
shown to their bedrooms. Antony and Andrew were
sharing one, Zoe was in another. They had been looking
for lights to switch on, but there were no switches.
No electricity here, Mrs McDougal told them, handing
them a lighted candle each on a little dish. In the
town, yes, but itll be a long time before it gets to a
place like this.
She closed the curtains against the night and added,
Theres a box of matches for you in your rooms if you
need a light in the night. But be very careful. We dont
want a fire!
Alone in her room, in a big old bed and under piles of
blankets, Zoe lay awake for hours, unable to sleep. She
couldnt face being in the dark and watched the candle
burn lower and lower. Then suddenly, it went out, just
as if someone had blown it out. Just a draft, Zoe told
herself, not altogether reassured, and burrowed
deeper and deeper under the covers, her eyes now shut
tight. Soon, exhausted, she fell asleep.
Then the door burst open and footsteps thundered
across the bare floorboards. Something was pulling the
blankets from her face. It was still pitch black. She
could see nothing and cried out in terror.
Shut up, Zoe! came a familiar voice and she realised it
was Antony and, judging by the deep breaths of
someone else nearby, Andrew as well.
Why are you in here? You gave me such a fright! said
Zoe, angrily.
There was a scratching sound and a light flickered
from a match as Antony lit the candle he was carrying.
Weve seen a ghost! cried Andrew. It was the man I
saw in the portrait on the wall, walking along, all grey
and misty. It was horrible!
I saw it too! squealed Antony. He was coming to get
us, Im sure!
There are no ghosts, not here, not anywhere! said
Zoe, angry but rather frightened too as they sat in the
small pool of light from the candle.
Arent there? croaked a voice from the shadows
behind her.
They all spun round to see the grey shape of a man in
old-fashioned clothes floating inches above a chair.
There was no need to say anything. The three children
leapt up, the candle fell from Antonys hands and they
ran out of the room, falling over each other as they
piled through the door, tiny screams trying to get out
of their mouths which the fear had left dry as dust.
A soft moonlight glowed through the windows as they
crashed along the landing and sprinted down the stairs.
At the bottom, they stopped dead as the figure of Mrs
McDougal, grey and shadowy, appeared in front of
them.
Where did she come from? hissed Zoe but nobody
had any answers.
You cannot leave, she said sternly, and then threw
her head back and gave a loud, cackling laugh.
Then the children heard a strange, crackling noise
from above and turned in horror to see an orange glow
and thick clouds of smoke coming from what had been
Zoes room. Mixing with the black smoke was the
strange, grey glow of the ghostly man they had seen
there.
Now there were more, a dozen figures, some grey,
some pearly white, men and women, even small children,
their strange forms wafting in and out of view.
Without thinking, Zoe, Antony and Andrew stormed
forwards to push Mrs McDougal out of the way but
instead found they passed straight through her,
feeling as if a bucket of ice-cold water had been tipped
over them.
As they rushed towards the front door, flames seemed
to engulf the whole house and the door disintegrated
before their eyes, yet as they rushed through the gap
they felt no heat, only a cold chill.
They didnt stop running until they were right down at
the station. Looking back to where Sligachan House had
been, they could see only the wood that had been
behind it and, instead of a fire, they could see only the
rosy glow of the slowly rising sun.
Shocked and exhausted, they turned towards the
station and gasped in amazement. Gone were the old
iron columns and the glass canopy and instead a
brightly-lit, modern ticket hall stood before them. A
lone ticket seller was just opening his booth.
Come to collect your things, then? he asked. And to
their amazement, they saw all their suitcases piled in a
corner. Looking down, they were no longer in their
pyjamas but in the clothes they had worn for the
journey.
Youre off to see Miss McDougal at New Sligachan
House, arent you? he went on. Suddenly, all the
children started speaking at once. Theyd been to a big
house, there had been a fire.
The railwayman cut them short. I know all that. The
old Sligachan House burned down 50 years ago when
some kid dropped a candle, so the story goes.
The children looked at him in a mixture of horror and
amazement. Fifty years ago? gasped Zoe.
Oh yes, said the man. Ive had lots of children
coming and telling stories about seeing the old house as
if it was real and the housekeeper. They all talk about
Mrs McDougal. She was grandmother of the Miss
McDougal youre going to see in the new house they
built down the road after the fire. Shell be along to
pick you up soon. I cant think how it was that you got
here so early.
The children looked at each other, reaching out and
gently feeling hands and sleeves to reassure
themselves they were all still real.
The man walked back towards his office. Load of
nonsense, of course, he said. Funny thing is, they all
tell the same story. Then he stopped in his tracks and
looked back at them, sniffing suspiciously. And they all
smell of smoke, just like you do! he added.