Chapter Twenty FiveFIRTH OF TAY
SEPTEMBER
We're captive on the carousel of time
We can't return, we can only look behind from where we came
And go round and round in the circle game
Joni Mitchell
Closing the journal, Lauren looked over to where Iain sat on the bed, his finger still pointing to the open door and his face as set and tragic as it had been for the past more-than- ninety years.
'So you've come home, Iain Cosgrove,' she said quietly, 'as Mrs Adams promised'.
That tune was back, easing insistently into her head like syrup dripping from a spoon, but now she recognised it for what it was. Jennifer was singing to her husband, her siren song calling him back across a waste of ocean.
It was all so obvious now. Jennifer had looked after Iain when evil had stalked the ship, eit
