Chapter 3: 3 – An Abduction at Loch Tay

When Dr Pendle told me about the internship at MFIT, I’d practically bitten his hand off in my determination – no, desperation would be a better word – to get the position. He invited me to meet him in his office at the university the day after the lecture, which was how I came to be standing in front of the huge Gothic building, staring up at it with awe.

I found his office on the second floor with some difficulty, after several minutes taking wrong turns and ending up at the dead ends of corridors. Even so, I arrived fifteen minutes early. Dr. Pendle’s door was wide open, and he was sitting behind his desk, talking to two people whose backs were to me.

“Ah, Thom, come in!” he said warmly. “Marjory, Phil, I would like you to meet Thom, who might well become MFIT’s new intern.”

“New intern? You’ve had one before?” Marjory sounded incredulous, and more than a bit haughty.

“No, no, this would be a first. But the demand for our services has reached the stage where we need more hands on-deck.”

“It’s surprised all of us, how MFIT has captured the public’s imagination.” Phil’s kindness was in direct contrast to Marjory’s tone.

“Thom doesn’t know our brief history yet,” Dr. Pendle said, pulling up a chair so that I was sitting level with Phil and Marjory. “MFIT started as a project to collect the lore of people whose first tongue is Scots Gaelic, as part of a bit of a revival of the language here. Our plan was to publish the stories in a collection, and bring together artists and musicians to produce work to accompany the stories we gathered. To preserve and celebrate the lore, essentially.”

He paused briefly, and a flicker of excitement passed across his face. “What we didn’t expect was to hear not just people’s stories, but also about their encounters with the creatures of myth and legend. Or the encounters of people close to them. People lined up to tell us their stories, and not just the Gaelic speakers.”

“It was extraordinary – completely unexpected,” Phil agreed.

“That’s not the word I’d use,” Marjory muttered.

Dr. Pendle looked at Marjory with amusement. “What became absolutely clear was that every single person who told us about an encounter did so with a kind of pure conviction grounded in the belief that we – human beings – exist alongside what I’ll call uncanny creatures. Our work has evolved from the focus on collecting and recording lore, to actively collecting accounts of people’s encounters with the uncanny.”

“How would this internship work, anyway?” Marjory asked.

“I haven’t discussed it with Thom in detail yet, but I would propose a trial period in which he participates in the data collection with us – that is to say the interviews – and audits some of the classes we offer here in the department. I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself, given the complexities with Thom’s citizenship, but if he wants to continue with MFIT we can work out a plan for him to enrol here as a student and contribute to the ongoing investigations.”

As it turned out, that was exactly what happened. After a few weeks interning with MFIT, attending classes on subjects ranging from Scottish literature and lore and research methods, I felt like I’d found the place I was supposed to be. Although I missed my dad and sister, I knew that I was still not welcome in Juniperville, and I dealt with my sadness by working and studying as hard as I could.

Back then, there were only three members of MFIT – Dr. Pendle and Max, a technician at the university who filmed and edited video footage of those interviewed, and me. I was keen and eager to be involved in everything and anything, even if I doubted my competence and ability to offer much to the investigation side of things. I knew I was on the team because of Dr. Pendle’s benevolence borne from pity, perhaps, after I’d told him about my own experience the first time we met. But all these years later, with no indication that MFIT’s place in the public imagination is waning – quite the opposite in fact - I remain the only member of the team who’s had an encounter with a creature from the deep, and I have come to see that my personal experience is something I offer uniquely.

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The first time I met Dr. Sylvester Silbis was on my very first investigation with Dr. Pendle. I’d been an intern with MFIT for just a week when Dr. Pendle asked if I would accompany him and Max on an investigation to Highland Perthshire, to see a woman claiming her daughter had been abducted by a water beast. I’d spent the whole first week fascinated and terrified in equal measure; fascinated by the stories that floated past in casual conversation about sightings of and dealings with water beasts across Scotland, which terrified me, because my theory about what had happened to Rufus now seemed completely plausible, from a scientific perspective.

We piled into the dusty old Jeep, and Max drove us through the busy streets of Glasgow out of the city and north, towards the Highlands. Dr. Pendle was quiet at first, reading over the incident report. I saw notes he’d written in the margins in green ink, in his elegant handwriting. After a short while he looked over his shoulder at me and asked, “Have you ever been to Loch Tay?”

Without waiting for an answer, he said, “Apologies – I forgot for a moment that you haven’t lived here your whole life. It’s one of the most beautiful lochs in all of Scotland. And that’s really saying something.”

He looked at Max, who nodded his silent agreement. Dr. Pendle returned to his notes, and I stared out the window, breathing in the scenery. Growing up in Canada, I’m no stranger to beautiful landscapes, but there is something about the majestic mountains rippling with purple and white heather and the clear, still lochs, that makes my heart pound. I’m still in awe of it, to tell the truth, five years later.

When we reached the dense forests of the Perthshire Highlands, I sensed the mood in the front of the Jeep change; energy crackled between Dr. Pendle and Max, and I caught a few glances between them that communicated a message I didn’t understand.

“It’s likely best if you observe this time,” Dr. Pendle said to me. “Max will be behind the camera, and I suggest you sit beside him – maybe even behind him, just a wee bit. It’s to help the person we’re interviewing relax as much as possible, so they only have one person to focus on.”

Max, who’d been silent for the entire journey, said, “We never really know what we’re walking into. Most of the time, people are nervous, even though they want to tell their story. Sometimes, though, their anxiety leads to anger. I’ll say you’re my technical assistant, and then we’ll try to fade into the background.”

We drove through a huge stone gate as we passed into Kenmore, a village that looked straight out of a book about young wizards. Max parked the Jeep on the main road and we got out and stretched our muscles. I heard something in Dr. Pendle’s body make a popping noise, but he just smiled at me and asked if I was ready.

My stomach buzzed with nervous excitement but I smiled back at him, and nodded. “Savour this experience, Thom – your first ever interview. The first of many, I hope.” A kind of pleasant buzz settled in me when Dr. Pendle spoke those words, almost as though I’d been accepted into something important, something special. Something I certainly didn’t understand yet.

We didn’t have time to knock on Agnes Sampson’s door before it opened wide. A tiny, white-haired lady with piercing blue eyes smiled up at us and said, “Welcome! Do you want a cup of tea now, or do you want me to take you to the place it happened?”

Dr. Pendle shook her hand and said, “We’ve been sitting in the car for ages. A walk would do us good.” He looked at Max and I for affirmation, and we both nodded our agreement.

Agnes grabbed her overcoat, and started walking briskly along the road, towards the banks of the mighty Loch Tay. Splayed out in front of us, I had the sense we were walking straight into a scene in a film, or a moment in another time and place. At first I thought it might be nerves, but my body was as light as if it belonged to someone else, not heavy like it usually is when I’m anxious. I realized it might have something to do with being in the company of someone else who had witnessed a creature coming up out of the deep, a creature who’d stolen someone they loved.

This is happening, I told myself. This is real. Brace yourself.

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