The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (27 page)

  “The Duchess is coming here?  To Culrain?” Morven asked, fear in her voice.

  “Yes!”

  “Mr Riddrie, sir?” enquired Inspector Cotter.

  “Yes,” Riddrie replied, lifting up the last ae the suitcases oan tae the coonter.

  “I’m Inspector Cotter, sir.  May I have a word with you?  In private, if I may,” the Inspector asked, looking across at Adolf, who wis staunin behind the coonter, blatantly trying tae lug in tae the conversation.

  “Yes, of course,” Riddrie replied, following the inspector oot ae the door and oan tae the platform.

  “We’ve just received a telephone call from Culrain Castle.  The Duke has requested me to ask you to delay the arrival of the Duchess for as long as you can.”

  “Well, that won’t be a problem, Inspector.  I’ve spent the last hour booking her cases into the left luggage.  The Duchess is sitting in the car outside in the car park in front of the station as we speak,” Riddrie replied, nervously looking o’er the Inspector’s shoulder towards the entrance before looking at his watch.

  “Fine, sir, I’ll leave you to get on with it then.  I suspect PC McTavish will get a statement from you on your return to the castle then.  Good day, sir.”

  “Fine, Inspector...er, a statement?”

  “Oh yes, sir.  It seems that The Duke’s daughter has gone missing…again.”

  “Missing?  Lady Saba is missing?”

  “Yes, we’ve got officers boarding the trains that have already left Inverness this morning, which are bound for Glasgow and Edinburgh, sir.  We’ve also got officers waiting at Perth to search the southbound buses.  It’s all pretty routine.  If she went south this morning, we’ll pick her up.  Good day, sir,” the inspector said, touching his cap, before moving aff towards the entrance.

  “What have you got, McTavish?” The Duke asked the local constable, hivving taken command ae the situation.

  The Duke wis sitting wae the estate emergency committee, which consisted ae Cawley McLeod, George and Cameron Sellar.  Missing fae the ranks wur John Sellar, who wis up in John O’ Groats stalking the Munro twins, two notorious poachers that hid been evading arrest fur the past twenty years and Riddrie, who wis picking up The Duchess.

  “Well, your Lordship, she obviously slept in her own bed last night.  There was no sign of a struggle…at least none that I could detect.  Her maid has reported her radio missing.  The cars have clearly been tampered with.  On further inspection, it seems that someone has removed the rotor arms after unclipping and then refastening the distributor caps.  Quite clever, if you don’t mind me saying so, m’lord,” McTavish drawled.  “Presumably this was done to delay any pursuit.”

  “And my good Landy?” George growled.

  “I’m afraid that is unaccounted for, Mr Sellar,” PC McTavish replied.

  “Yes, but do we have a suspect, McTavish?” The Duke enquired impatiently.

  “I have your Lordship.”

  “And?” four voices asked in unison.

  “It seems to me that your daughter, Lady Saba, has disabled the estate vehicles and made off with Mr Sellar’s vehicle, m’lord.”

  “This is preposterous, McTavish!” The Duke exclaimed.

  “Lady Saba, if you’ll beg my pardon, m’lord, has a history of attempting to run away from the estate.  I believe she’s been brought back after running away twice before in recent weeks.  Is that not correct?”

  “And who told you this?” The Duke demanded, looking across at the emergency committee members.

  “Her maid, Miss Gabriel, m’lord.”

  “There is no way Lady Saba would know how to disable those cars,” Cawley McLeod insisted.

  “And she can’t drive.  We all know that,” Cameron added.

  “The only other piece of information I have is that the scullery maid, Miss Ross, thought she saw Lady Saba speaking with someone a couple of evenings ago up at the Culrain Burn.”

  “Did she recognise who it was?”

  “No, m’lord.”

  “What about the lost boy?  MacKay’s poacher, that’s staying with him further up the strath?” The Duke enquired.

  “I don’t think so.  According to Miss Gabriel, they didn’t get on.  They’d had words as recently as at the Ardgay Highland Games.”

  “Have you interviewed him, McTavish?”

  “No, m’lord.”

  “Well, I suggest you speak to him straight away.  I have a feeling that he’s involved in this somehow.  In the meantime, I want the estate searched again.  She can’t have gone far.”

  “Who can’t have gone far, John?” the Duchess asked the startled Emergency Committee members fae the door. 

Chapter Thirty Eight

  Paul wis glad tae be oan their way.  Everything hid gone tae plan wance they’d left the castle, apart fae they’d ended up wae a third passenger.  As soon as he’d put the Landy intae first gear at the bottom ae the drive, the engine hid kicked intae life.  When they’d arrived at the croft, he’d transferred Innes’s wheels fae the back ae George’s Landy tae the back ae Innes’s.  He’d taken the rotor erms and nipped intae the hoose.  He’d grabbed a piece ae paper and left a note fur Innes tae let him know where his wheels wur and tae tell him that there wis also a spare rotor erm hidden under the chicken coop.  He’d then left wan rotor erm oan tap ae the note.  When he’d come back fae hiding the spare rotor erm under the chicken coop, he’d slammed the back door ae the Landy shut, withoot looking in and hid backed the Landy up tae the trailer hook-up.  Wance he’d checked the ropes that held the boat oan tae the trailer, and made sure everything else wis okay, he hidnae messed aboot and hid nipped intae the cab and set aff.  He thought he might’ve hid a problem gaun up the curved slope ae the drive and then hivving tae turn a sharp right, bit the Landy didnae even pause fur breath.  Jist past Inveroykel Hoose, the road went intae a series ae sharp bends tae the right, left, then right again, before dipping doon the steep slope ae the strath tae the ford that crossed the River Oykel.

  “Mind and take it easy going across the Oykel, Paul.  One day they’ll put a bridge over that part of the river, hopefully.  It’s dreadful trying to cross in the winter,” Innes hid said.

  “Is it deep?”

  “No, but just keep the Landy and the boat trailer in a straight line until the trailer is out of the water on the other side and you’ll be fine.”

  Paul wis in the middle ae the river when he felt a wet nose oan his right lug.

  “Aw, fur Christ’s sake, Wan-eye.  How the fuck did you get in here?” he shouted, turning roond and getting his nose licked.

  “Oh, he’s so cute,” Saba exclaimed, scratching Wan-eye’s ear. 

  Paul cleared the river, turned left oan tae the main Lochinver road and pulled o’er.

  “Fuck, how did he get in?  Did ye know he wis wae us?” he growled at Saba.

  “No.”

  “Whit ur we gonnae dae noo?  There’s nae way Ah’ll be able tae turn aroond oan this road,” he said, looking aboot.

  “What’s the problem?  We’ll take him with us. He’ll be good company for me and at least he won’t bite my head off every time I don’t do what I’m supposed to,” she said, making it clear she still wisnae happy wae him shouting at her earlier oan.

  “Right Wan-eye, oot!” he commanded, as Wan-eye jumped oan tae the ground and followed Paul back tae the river crossing.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Go!  Oan ye go…go hame, Wan-eye!” Paul commanded, as Wan-eye sat looking at him through his good eye.

  “He doesn’t know what you’re asking him to do,” Saba said, as Wan-eye decided tae take advantage ae the situation by moving away fae Paul tae sit beside Saba’s feet, looking up at her adoringly.

  “Right, Wan-eye, Ah’m the boss here,” Paul said, strutting across tae pick up the dug.   

  Paul carried him tae the other side ae the ford and plapping him doon, before turning and wading back, calf deep, across towards the north road.

  “You can’t leave him there.  He’ll never make it back on his own.  He doesn’t know where he is, for goodness sake.”

  “Excuse me, bit if Ah want yer opinion, Ah’ll ask fur it.  Noo, get back tae the Landy or ye kin walk back wae him,” Paul threatened, walking up the slope towards the vehicle, as Saba anchored where she wis.

  Wance Paul hid turned left oan tae the road and wis oot ae sight ae Wan-eye, he felt better.  Even a wan-eyed dug wid manage tae heid back the way they’d come.

  “Paul. Oh, Paul, look at him.”

  “In the Landy!” he shouted, withoot turning.

  “Oh, he’s crying, listen to him.  We can’t leave him here, all alone,” she whinged as the whining sound ae Wan-eye reached his ears.

  “We cannae take a dug wae us.  Wance Ah dump the boat, Ah’ll be oan the move the whole time.  He’s never been aff the croft, fur Christ’s sake. It widnae be fair,” he turned and shouted at her.

  “I’ll look after him.”

  “Naw, ye won’t.  As soon as Ah get rid ae this boat, ye’re getting dumped pretty pronto at the nearest railway or bus station,” Paul shouted at her as the sound ae a vehicle could be heard, drapping its gears as it heided doon tae the ford.

  “Please, Paul?  I promise I’ll take care of him.  He won’t get in the way,” she pleaded.

  The sound ae the vehicle wis coming closer.  Paul walked back tae where Saba wis staunin and looked across the ford.  Wan-eye wis sitting looking across at them whining and occasionally turning his heid tae look behind him tae see whit wis heiding his way.

  “Fur Christ’s sake!  Right, c’mon, Wan-eye,” he shouted, as the dug leaped intae the water and swam across.

  “He’s in your charge until Ah dump ye,” he growled at Saba, as she bent and ruffled Wan-eye’s wet heid before the baith ae them ran efter Paul, who’d awready started the engine.

  “Is that the pup that George kicked?” Saba asked, efter they’d moved aff and Paul wis convinced that whoever it wis that hid been heiding across the ford hid turned right wance they hit the North road.

  “Aye.”

  “Is he better?” Saba enquired, peering closely at Wan-eye’s shut eye.

  “Aye, he ended up wae a really bad eye infection, bit it’s cleared up noo.”

  “Morven said that you fought with the two Sellar brothers to get money to pay for the treatment.  That was really good of you…and brave.”

  “Ah don’t know aboot the brave part, bit Ah didnae hiv any choice.  Auld Innes wis aboot tae let the pup hiv it wae two barrels oan the Monday efter the Highland games.  Ah wisnae gonnae let that happen if Ah could help it.”

  “Shoot him?”

  “Aye, he didnae want tae dae it, bit withoot the dosh tae pay fur the treatment, it wid’ve been the kindest thing.”

  “Did George mean it?  I’m surprised that someone that works with animals could be that cruel to them.”

  “It wis nothing personal, Ah don’t think, even though everywan knows he’s a first class shitehoose.  Innes said that the estate targets dugs that they think ur being used fur poaching.  Tim, the auldest wan, his been shot, stabbed and hid that arse ae his hauf chewed aff mair than a few times by the Sellars and they Irish Wolfhounds that they call pets, trying tae get their hauns oan him.  They probably thought Wan-eye wis his apprentice.”

  “And is he?”

  “Whit?”

  “Tim’s apprentice,” she asked, sounding exasperated.

  “As a sheepdug?”

  “You know what I mean.  Was One-eye Tim’s poaching apprentice?”

  “Well, Ah never came across Tim being used fur poaching in aw the time Ah’ve been living oan the croft, so ye’ll need tae make yer ain mind up oan that wan,” Paul lied, passing the lonely red telephone box oan his right that Innes hid telt him tae expect jist before the Oykel Bridge Hotel.

  “So, have you worked out our route then?” Saba asked, putting oan her John Lennon glasses and starting tae unfold the map.

  “It’s still dark. Ye won’t need the map fur a wee while yet.  Here, hiv a swatch ae this.  Aw ye need tae dae is keep yer eyes peeled fur any road signs or wee places that hiv these names oan them,” Paul said, lifting up his left cheek aff the seat and slipping a folded up sheet ae paper oot ae his back pocket and tossing it across tae her.

  Saba unfolded the paper and spread it oan her knee and peered doon at his spidery haunwriting.

Ardgay – Ullapool (via Ledmore junction)

Ullapool – Gairloch – (left at Braemore junction)

Gairloch – Kyle of Lochalsh (via Torridon)

Kyle of Lochalsh – Invergarry

Invergarry – Gairlochy – Corpach

Corpach – Lochailort – Strontian – Lochaline

Lochaline – Craignure (Mull) by Ferry

Craignure – Oban by Ferry

Oban to Lochgilphead (Loch Fyne)

Lochgilphead – Inveraray (Loch Fyne)

  “You’ve been busy.  Are you sure it’s correct?”

  “Aye, Ah spent aboot a day and a hauf oan it, double checking it aboot a dozen times oan the map.  Aw we need tae dae is make sure we don’t miss the turnings at the junctions Ah’ve highlighted.”

  “Do you mean you went over it half a dozen times and then repeated checking it a half a dozen more times after that?”

  “Eh?”

  “I said…”

  “Ah heard ye the first time.  Furget aw that…Ah know whit Ah did.  Is there anything good aboot it?” he challenged her.

  “It looks all right, but I’ll feel better if I check it myself… just to make sure…once it gets light…if that’s alright with you,” she snapped, peering up at the sky through the windscreen.

  “Ah kin see this is gonnae be fun,” he muttered.

  Saba picked up the tranny radio at her feet and started twiddling wae the dial oan the front ae it, in search ae a station.

  “You won’t get a signal aboot here…too many hills,” Paul said knowledgably, repeating whit Innes hid telt him when he’d spoken aboot trying tae get a tranny fur the croft.

  “Is that right?” Saba muttered, as Thunderclap Newman’s ‘Something in the Air’ blasted oot ae the tranny.

 
Wae the sun rising up o’er Ben More Assynt, Canisp and Suilven oan the horizon aheid ae them, Saba turned and looked at Paul wae a big triumphant grin plastered across her face.

  “Fur Christ’s sakes, wid ye look at that,” Paul exclaimed in awe, as he leaned forward in his seat, scanning the road aheid ae them through the windscreen.

  Things settled doon, wae Wan-eye sitting between them, gently swaying alang tae the motion ae the Landy and keeping the peace between The Lost Boy and The Gardener’s Daughter.  Paul wis feeling happy enough wae their progress, as they rumbled alang the road wae some river o’er tae their right.  He’d jist commented that he thought that Suilven looked like a fish tail, and Saba hid been telling him that when she was a wean, it wis always referred tae as the sugar-loaf mountain, when they’d turned left at Ledmore Junction and Paul scudded the signpost that said Ullapool wis eighteen miles further oan, leaving it lurching o’er at a forty five degree angle.  It wis jist efter this that they hid their first humdinger ae an argument and fell oot wae each other.

  “I just knew you would have got the route wrong.  It’s just as well I came along,” Saba exclaimed, hardly able tae contain hersel, peering between the map and the route list.

  Paul considered whether tae bite or no, but decided tae come back at her.  His feeling wis that if he didnae show her who wis the boss at this early stage ae the trip, she’d hiv him driving her tae the nearest bus stoap and he’d be left wae a stolen Landy and a dug wae a dud eye oan his hauns.

  “Right, Livingstone, spit it oot.”

  “According to your schedule, it says we should turn left at the Braemore Junction, just after Ullapool.”

  “So?”

  “And it should be right.”

  “If Ah wrote left, then it’s left.”

  “According to the map, we turn right.  There’s a gorge on the right.”

  “So Ah’m wrong then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Somehow, Ah don’t think so,” he muttered.

  “And, another thing.  Why do you keep referring to me as The Gardener’s Daughter?  My name is Saba.”

  “Whit, is being referred tae as a lowly gardener’s daughter below yer station then?”

  “No.”

  “So, whit’s the problem then?”

  “Because my name’s Saba.  You never hear me referring to you as The Lost Boy.”

  “That’s because Ah don’t gie a frigging fuck whit ye refer tae me as.  It could be Pope Popeye fur aw Ah care.”

  “Why are you such a nasty, ill-tempered oaf?”

  “Why ur ye looking fur a fight, insteid ae sitting there thanking yer lucky stars…and me…fur getting ye away fae that wanker ae a da ae yours, eh?”

  “Right, that’s it, stop the car and let me out,” she demanded.

  “Listen, Richie Rich, we hivnae seen a car, van, coo or even a bloody sheep in the last twenty miles, so the chances ae ye getting a lift wid be next tae zero.  As much as Ah’d love tae sling that rich arse ae yours oot ae ma wheels oan tae that clump ae purple heather sitting o’er there oan that mountain, ye’re gonnae hiv tae hing oan in there fur a wee while longer.”

  “Your wheels?”

  “Ye heard me.  It’s ma wheels when Ah’m behind the steering wheel.”

  “I think if you cast that small brain of yours back to our original agreement, you’ll remember that I’m here to ensure you’re not accused of stealing the vehicle.  The car is ultimately my responsibility, not forgetting that the estate owns it, which in effect, means that I own it.”

  “See youse rich basturts?  Youse ur aw so fucking up yer ain arses that ye don’t even know whit the hell is gaun oan in the world, other than how much ye’ve goat sitting in the bank.”