The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (32 page)

  “He’ll be there.  Let’s get back tae the company.  They’re aw watching ye making an arse ae yersel,” Paul grunted at her, walking away.

  “Well, son?”  Gus asked him.

  “Ah’m sorry, Gus, bit Ah cannae dae it.  There’s a first refusal situation here that Ah cannae break,” Paul replied, as Saba stomped away and goat in the Landy wae her face tripping her.

  “That’s okay, Paul.  Glad to see that there’s some integrity left in this world,” Gus said, staunin up and shaking his haun.

  “Right, Wan-eye, in ye get, son,” Paul shouted tae him as he wis busy clearing the bowl belonging tae wan ae the gypsy dugs further doon.

    “Don’t forget those spare number plates lying on the ground at the back of your Landy now,” Donald said wae a grin.

  “Shit!  Thanks! That goes for the food as well,” Paul replied sheepishly.

  He picked up George’s number plates and climbed back in tae the Landy.

  “That wis nice and polite, so it wis.  If ye don’t mind me saying so, where Ah come fae, ye thank people who offer ye hospitality so Ah’d appreciate it if ye didnae embarrass me in front ae any new people we might meet oan the road up aheid.  Saying thanks widnae hiv cost ye much,” Paul narked at her, checking the door mirror oan her side as he moved oot intae the road.

  “Oh, shut up!” Saba hissed, lying back in her seat and closing her eyes, as Paul heided fur Gairloch wae a big grin oan his coupon.

  The road tae Gairloch wis pretty barren efter whit they’d driven alang maist ae the day.

  “The land all over the Highlands was covered in trees at one time, including here,” Saba murmured.

  Paul didnae reply in case he set her aff again, bit he wis glad she’d spoken.  Her huffs wur starting tae get shorter.  He even started tae reconsider his intention ae dumping her at the first available railway station when he suddenly bolted upright in his seat.  He’d been coasting doon the hill intae Gairloch when a Landy, blue lights flashing, wae two bizzies sitting in the front ae it, pulled oot ae a road oan his right.  It happened that fast, he didnae hiv time tae panic, so kept the Landy and the boat oan an even keel as he returned the wee wave that the driver gied him as they sped past, bells ringing and gaun like the clappers.

  “Was that the police?” Saba asked, in whit Paul thought wis an ‘Oh no, they’ve gone past us’ disappointed voice.

  “Aye, Ah jist aboot shat masel.  They’re probably heiding doon tae hassle the gypsy folk,” Paul replied, checking his wing mirror, as the bizzies disappeared o’er the hill behind them.

  “You’ll need to stop.”

  “Whit?  In yer dreams, Madame Tussaud!”

  “I need a pee…I’m bursting,” she whimpered.

  “Saba, there is nae way Ah’m stoapping until we’re well away doon the road.  Are ye nuts or whit?”

  “I need to go,” she whimpered again, daeing a wee tap-dance oan the flair in front ae her wae her feet.

  “Well, jump in the back then.  Ah’ve telt ye, there’s nae way Ah’m stoapping anywhere near here.”

  “I hate you.  I don’t know why I ever got involved in this.  You’re going to end up in jail and I’ll be dragged back to Culrain.”

  “Count tae ten.”

  “What?”

  “Count tae ten.  That’ll take yer mind aff ye wanting tae dae a slash.”

  “Slash?  Did you say a slash?  Where do you get all these disgusting words from?”

  “Whit, hiv ye never heard ae a ‘hit and miss’ being referred tae as a slash?”

  “Of course I haven’t, you foul pig,” she muttered, still sitting tap-dancing wae her feet.

  “In that case, ye widnae know whit Ah wis oan aboot if Ah telt ye there’s nae way Ah’m stoapping so ye kin go and hiv a whizz, or as ma auld granny used tae say when she wis heiding fur the lavvy oan the ootside landing, ‘I’m jist aff tae hiv a wee gentlewomen’s trickle’ as the sound ae a fire hose gaun aff two minutes later wid interfere wae everywan’s television sets up the closemooth.”

  “Paul, I can’t make out what the hell you’re saying, but it sounds disgusting, and it isn’t helping me,” Saba laughingly shouted, quickening her tap-dancing.

  “Okay, well, gie’s a song then.  And here’s me thinking ye wur like the Queen who didnae need dae things like that.”

  “I can’t,” she moaned tae mair tap-dancing.

  “Gie’s wan ae they famous, sentimental, happy songs, that aw the poor folk sing aboot how good the local Dukes and Duchesses wur tae them aboot a hunner years ago.”

  “It would surprise you, you know.  There are songs just like that.”

  “Aye, Ah know. When Ah wis a wee snapper walking aboot the Barras, which is the local flea market in Glesga, Ah used tae hear them blasting oot aw o’er the place, so Ah did.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “Of course Ah’m bloody lying.”

  “Charlie is my darling, my darling, my darling, Charlie is my darling, the young chevalier…” she started singing.

  “Hing oan a minute.”

  “What?” she groaned, dancing away beside him.

  “Ah hope that’s no aboot that spotty-arsed French dandy that Innes telt me aboot, who couldnae speak a word ae English, who came o’er here and goat people like that auld man ae yers tae force aw the poor basturts that they’d slung aff their land tae go and fight fur him, is it?  If it is, Ah’m no impressed wae yer choice, even if yer voice isnae that bad,” Paul said, laughing, as he drew up at the side ae the road beside a clump ae bushes and trees.

  Saba pushed open her door and disappeared, wae Wan-eye at her back.

  “This is Loch Maree,” Saba announced, looking up fae the map as the two ae them looked at the views oan their left.

  “Where’s aw the boats, weans and mongrel dugs?  If this wis anywhere near the Toonheid, the water wid be full ae rafts made oot ae oil drums and auld tyres and the weans wid be dive-bombing anything that floated.  Whit a waste, eh?” Paul sighed, shaking his heid.

  “Yes, imagine all this beauty and tranquillity going to waste. It’s a real shame,” Saba hit him wae, no being able tae contain hersel.

  “Ah could jist imagine some ae the wee toe-rags fae up and doon Parly Road being let loose up here.  It wid definitely keep them oot ae trouble o’er the summer, so it wid.  And if wan ae them shat in the water it widnae be as bad as shiting in the local swimming baths.  Whenever that happened, they’d clear everywan oot ae the pool fur the day and send in the bomber squad. When that happened, the dirty scummy basturts widnae gie ye yer hard-earned stolen dosh back either, so they widnae.  Ah couldnae see that being a big problem up here though.  They’d never catch the wee basturts tae toss them oot,” Paul said, smiling, admiring the view.

  “Are you serious?”

  “Aboot whit?”

  “That some people would do…you know…in a public swimming pool?”

  “Aye, bit it wis always the selfish basturts, no us decent wans.  When ye went in, ye’d get forty five minutes before it wis time tae get oot.  If some ae the selfish wans wurnae happy, they’d pull the auld trunks tae wan side and let fly wae a stalking torpedo and then slink aff tae get changed.”

  “That’s disgusting.  Did people not see them do it and report them?”

  “No really.  There wur always aboot a hunner and fifty screaming weans, who maistly couldnae swim, aw splashing and mucking aboot in this wee pool doon at the shallow end.  Between aw the splashing and the colour ae the water, which wis always a dirty cloudy green colour, because ae the hunners ae weans using the pool and taking the opportunity tae hiv their weekly bath at the same time, ye’d be lucky tae see mair than two or three inches below the surface.  Ye could always tell who’d been up the roofs ae the tenement buildings, stripping lead, or who worked oan the horse and carts, selling coal briquettes oan a Saturday morning.  They’d dive in and leave a big black sooty trail in their wake.  Imagine ten or fifteen ae they wee mankys swimming aboot.”

  “So, how would you know someone had done something then, if it was so crowded and dirty?”

  “It jist aw depended, Ah suppose.  If ye kin imagine that ye’re in a big giant tank full ae lovely wee goldfish, aw swimming aboot, happy as Larry, and some rotten basturt slings a big dirty pike intae the middle ae it…it’s kind ae like that.  No everywan sees it, bit they bloody well know it’s there and heid oot ae the pool like they penguins that ye see oan the telly, when a killer whale appears oan the scene.  It’s a wonder nowan his goat droont in the rush, so far.  Wance that big bloodcurdling scream is let oot, they’re aw aff and oot ae the water.  Wan minute they’re aw enjoying themselves and the next, they’re aw peering doon intae the water, waiting fur it tae surface, until at last, it’s spotted, bobbing alang under its ain steam, wae a hunner erms aw pointing at it, howling in disgust.  Meanwhile, the selfish basturt who’s done the dirty deed is sniggering as he’s sauntering oot the front door, efter hivving enjoyed his wee swim.  This Loch wid mess up the secret shiting crew, that’s fur sure.”

  “According to the map, that big mountain in front of us is Slioch,” Saba pointed oot wae a disgusted look oan her kisser, changing the subject.

  “And the wan oan the right?”

  “I think it’s Ben Eighe.”

  “Amazing, noo if this wis anywhere near the Toonheid,” Paul said laughing, as Saba put her hauns o’er her ears.

Chapter Forty Five

  The Stalker sat deep in thought, as if in a trance, watching McTavish pin up the second map oan the wall in wan ae the rooms that The Duke and Duchess hid offered him tae use fur as long as he wis there.  He looked doon at the notes that he’d managed tae take doon so far.  He could feel the anger welling up inside ae him.  He’d taken instant pity oan The Duke, The Duchess and the staff who worked in the castle, particularly the wee naive maid who’d attempted tae speak up oan McBride’s behauf.   Christ, ye’ve been a busy wee basturt, Paul, he thought tae himsel.  It wis like dressing a fox up in a chicken’s ootfit and letting it loose in the coop.  How anywan could be daft enough tae let somewan like Paul McBride loose oan a wee community like this wis beyond him.  Whoever hid been responsible should be sacked oan the spot.  He made a mental summary in his heid ae whit he hid so far.  McBride arrives oan the scene, cons the fuck oot ae the auld couple that he’s a misunderstood wee boy who’s hid a nervous breakdoon, due tae the cruelty ae the system and wangles his way intae the knickers ae the castle maid, who’s supposed tae be looking efter the interests ae The Duke and Duchess’s innocent daughter.  She…the maid, lets slip that the daughter is unhappy and wants away, then somehow, he manages tae befriend The Duke’s daughter, probably when she’s oot walking in the woods, as noted by wan ae the other maids.  Meanwhile, he’s showing aff and enjoying himsel by knocking fuck oot ae the two brothers who work as estate keepers, knowing that they’ll probably no want tae come back fur seconds efter the first time.  Typical Manky-scum scare tactics.  It aw seemed so easy when ye stood back and looked at it fae where he wis staunin.  The Duke hid telt him aboot his confrontation wae McBride oan the railway viaduct.  He could hear McBride’s insolent voice as The Duke spoke.

  “How I never struck him with my walking stick, I’ll never know, sergeant,” The Duke hid growled, still angry and upset by the incident.

  “Well, Ah think ye were right tae haud back, yer Lordship.  If yer first blow hidnae put McBride doon and oot, Ah’m convinced we widnae be hivving this conversation in yer lovely big castle the day.”

  “He’s that dangerous?” The Duchess hid exclaimed fearfully.

  The Stalker hidnae answered, bit insteid, hid jist shrugged they shoulders ae his. 

  “Naw, don’t you worry, sir.  Ah know Paul McBride, and Ah know how tae track him doon.  It may take a few days, bit Ah’ll get him and return yer precious daughter back tae where she belongs,” he’d said, as the Duchess beamed gratefully across at him fae her fancy wan-ermed shaped couch.

  “There you go, sir. That’s the maps up…the way you asked for,” McTavish said pleasantly.

  “Tell me, McTavish, fae wan bizzy tae the other...did ye no even pick up a whiff ae whit McBride wis up tae?”

  “Och, I can’t say I did, sir.  He seemed like a nice laddie to me, and I’m not the only one about here that thought that.  Are you sure you don’t want to meet up with Innes and Whitey, the couple who were looking after him?” PC McTavish asked again, puzzled that the sergeant fae the city didnae want tae interview them.

  McTavish hid awready offered tae take him up tae the croft when he’d picked him up fae the station earlier.

  “Naw, naw, Ah’m sure they’re nice folk, bit the weasel his moved oot ae the nest.  Ah need tae concentrate oan where he is noo.  Look, why don’t ye go away and come back in an hour.  That’ll gie me time tae collect ma thoughts oan ma next move.”

  “Whatever you wish, Sergeant McPhee.  Inspector Cotter says that I’m at your disposal, day and night.  Whatever you want, I’ve to ensure you get it.”

  “Excellent, excellent, so Ah’ll see ye back here in an hour, eh?” The Stalker said, escorting him tae the door.

  He walked back across tae the maps.  Wan wis a map ae the whole ae Scotland and the other wan covered the Western Highlands.  He looked at the map ae Scotland.  If the lassie hid gone away oan her lonesome, she wid’ve been picked up before noo.  The bizzies in Perth wid’ve made sure ae that.  He knew them well enough.  No as good as the Glesga boys, bit good enough tae spot a fifteen-year-auld wae red hair own her lonesome.  He traced his finger fae Ardgay southwards.  Aw roads, apart fae two, heided doon towards Inverness. 

“It’s jist too obvious fur oor Paul boy,” The Stalker murmured tae himsel. 

  He wid’ve known full well that as soon as the lassie went missing, the word wid’ve gone oot and the wires wid’ve lit up.  He turned his attention tae the West Highland map.  He traced his finger west.  The first real place he came tae wis Ullapool.  Efter Ullapool, the main road heided doon tae Dingwall, so back in their general direction and likely intae the erms ae the local bizzies.  He scratched his heid.  He looked at the roads north.  There wis naff aw places tae go heiding that way, apart fae ending up in John O’Groats.  Naw, the lassie wanted tae go south.  It wis the only way tae go.  Cotter, the inspector fae Inverness, reckoned that if she’d come through Inverness, she wid’ve been clocked.  As well as the trains and buses, he’d hid men sitting in cars oan the Aberdeen and Perth roads.  He stood back and looked at the two maps.  He went back tae the West Highland wan again.  He traced his finger fae Ullapool and stoapped.  There wis a turn-aff no far fae Ullapool.  He traced his finger alang it.

  “Aultbea, Poolewe, Gairloch, Kyle of Lochalsh, Invergarry, Fort William,” he read. 

  He went across tae the Scotland map and found Fort William and began tae trace his finger south again. 

  “Fort William, Crianlarach, Glencoe tae…naw!”

  The Stalker felt the excitement rise up fae the pit ae his stomach and continued tae trace his finger fae Fort William tae Crianlarach, then doon Glencoe straight tae Dumbarton and then finally…his finger hovered fur a split second before landing bang oan Glesga.

  “Ye’re a dirty fly wee basturt, so ye ur, Paul.  Noo, whit the fuck is yer game, eh?” The Stalker wondered oot loud, turned, walked across tae the bed and lay doon oan his back. 

  He rested his hauns behind his neck and studied the maps fae the other side ae the room while he waited fur McTavish tae reappear.  He knew he’d come up wae some ae the answers.  He knew he hid tae be patient.  Why go tae aw this trouble, Paul?  It wisnae jist tae help oot a wee naïve upper crust bit ae crumpet, that wis fur sure.  There wis mair tae this than that, he thought tae himsel, as his heavy-lidded eyes goat the better ae him and he fell asleep.