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Nose to the ground, the big black dog trotted
steadily along the path between the pine trees. Now and then it
stopped and cast around in a circle sniffing with an agitated
fervour before continuing along the track. Muffled against the
cold of the December morning Mr Laidlaw and his son Richard walked
past it. They were so preoccupied that they did not even notice
it. For its part the dog did not even raise its head.
The Laidlaws came to a wider track and some Scandinavian type
log chalets.
"What's wrong?" Mr Laidlaw muttered. "What on earth
are we doing wrong?"
Richard could not answer that. He just shook his head glumly.
Mr Laidlaw was the owner of the Kettleby Holiday Village and Leisure
Centre. He had put all his savings into the project. He had also
borrowed considerably. At first all seemed to be going well.
The holiday village seemed to have everything going for it. The chalets were warm, comfortable and well equipped. There were several shops and restaurants. The leisure centre had excellent sporting facilities and a well qualified staff. As if all that was not enough the holiday village was set in a beautiful,unspoiled part of South West Scotland, in a wooded area on the River Hundal,which flowed into the Solway Firth.
This meant that as well as all the modern sporting activities and all the entertainment of the village, visitors could also enjoy the simpler pleasures of long walks along the beach or through the forest. The holiday village had actually opened ahead of schedule and bookings had flooded in. The visitors had been very impressed with all the amenities.
Then things had started to go wrong - terribly, terribly wrong.
Guests started to leave early.
Mr Laidlaw would have expected that to happen occasionally. Family
illness. Business problems to sort out. These things do occur
unfortunately. But not in large numbers and all at once. It was
obvious that many of these people were just making excuses.
Why?
It was clear that there was something very far wrong, but neither
he nor any of his staff could find out what the trouble was.
One reason for this was that many of the dissatisfied guests seemed
strangely reluctant to give the real reason for their sudden departure.
True,there were some definite complaints, but they were very much
in the minority. Most people just gave some lame excuse and left.
It was a puzzle, a complete mystery.
Mr Laidlaw sighed. He had just left a mother who was leaving after
only two days in the village. She had been the type who does not
like complaining and she had been almost apologetic.
"I'm afraid the place does not agree with my little boy.
He has been having dreadful nightmares, and normally he never
has nightmares. Perhaps he is scared of living in the forest.
After all he is used to the city."
Mr Laidlaw had given her a partial refund and said he hoped her little boy would soon be all right.
Remembering the incident he asked again, "What's wrong?"
He turned to his son.
"Richard, have you absolutely no idea? Can't you suggest
something?"
Richard shook his head silently. Then he said doubtfully,"Could
it perhaps be anything to do with - the legend?"
His father gave him a withering look and Richard said no more.
Behind them the dog turned off the path and slunk round one of
the chalets. Inside the chalet a woman was frantically flinging
clothes into a suitcase.
Published by Castle of Dreams, 1997. Copyright Mary S Moffat, 1997.
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