The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (17 page)

  “Oh Paul, I feel like a fool now.  That was wonderfully brave of you.  So, that’s why you were fighting.  I thought it was because of me.  I’m sorry.”

  “Morven, why the fuck wid I be fighting o’er somewan like yersel?  Whit’s the score wae you and the son ae Mick McManus anyway? You’re no gaun oot wae him, ur ye?”

  “No.  For some reason, George thinks he has some sort of ownership…no, not ownership…some sort of claim on me,” she replied guardedly.

  “Jist tell the prick tae fuck aff.  Tell him ye’re gaun oot wae me noo,” he said tae her.

  “Am I?”

  “Whit?”

  “Going out with you?”

  “Well, that’s whit Ah’d like.  How aboot yersel?”

  “Sounds good to me,” she said wae a smile, as they embraced and kissed fur the first time as girlfriend and boyfriend, before being rudely interrupted.

  “Take your dirty filthy paws off of her, Lost Boy!”  George Sellar snarled, spinning Paul aroond and away fae Morven.

  “George!” Morven screamed, pushing George away and moving between them tae shield Paul fae George, Cameron and two other estate keepers, Johnnie Ross and Patrick Stewart.

  “Hoi, who ur ye pushing aboot, ya ugly wanker, ye.  It’s no a wee pup ye’re hitting noo, ya big thick prick, ye,” Paul snarled back, trying tae get past Morven, as the estate boys spread oot facing them.

  “Morven, get out of the way…this has got nothing to do with you,” George hissed.

  “Ye wid’ve thought youse pricks wid’ve hid enough ae a hiding this efternoon withoot coming back fur second helpings,” Gareth Burr fae The Cowpokes said fae behind the Sellars and their pals.

  “What’s this to do with you, eh?  Fuck off before you get a sore face,” a startled Cameron Sellar snarled, spinning roond tae face The Cowpokes.

  “It’s goat plenty tae dae wae us.  He’s fae the same place as us, so fuck aff before somewan gets really hurt,” Gareth’s brother, Blair, said.

  “Aye and I wouldn’t go on about sore faces about here.  Have ye looked in the mirror lately, tattie-heid,” Iain Macdonald, fae The Zanussis said, brandishing a Newcastle Brown Ale beer bottle by the neck.

  There wis a stand-aff.  Ye could see the hesitation in the faces ae the estate boys and the determination ae the band members, who wur clearly gonnae staun their ground.  It wis clear that the local boys wurnae too sure whit they wur dealing wae.  It wis The Gardener’s Daughter who finally broke the ice and helped them make up their minds.

  “George Sellar, if you and that brother of yours don’t leave this field in the next minute, you can start looking for new jobs tomorrow.  That goes for you two as well,” Saba hissed, turning roond tae Johnnie Ross and Patrick Stewart, steel in her voice.

  Efter a slight hesitation, the Sellars and their mates trudged aff towards the gate.  As the last ae them passed Blair, Blair held up his two hauns as if he hid drum sticks in them and did an imaginary drum roll oan Cameron’s heid.

  “T’ching,” he chimed, smiling.

  Paul remembered the story his pal Johnboy Taylor hid telt him aboot the night that Sarah Todd and The Cowpokes hid played their very first ever live gig.  It hid been in The McAslin Bar in the Toonheid in Glesga when Paul wis aboot eleven.  Although Paul hid been oan remand in Larchgrove Remand Centre at the time, Paul’s pals, Tony, Joe, Skull and Johnboy hid bought a doo cabin dookit aff ae the Murphy brothers, who worked fur Pat Molloy, the local Big Man, during the summer holidays ae nineteen sixty five.  The cabin hid stood behind the billboards at the tap ae the Castle Street end ae Parly Road.  Whit the boys hidnae known at the time wis that the hooses aw aboot the cabin wur tae be knocked doon tae make way fur the new motorway.  The Murphy brothers hid known this and hid still sold the cabin tae them.  There hid been nae argument aboot them being ripped aff and the boys hid ended up owing the Murphy’s twenty-odd quid, whether the dookit wis staunin or no.  Tae get that kind ae money quickly, Johnboy hid come up wae the perfect solution.  The boys decided tae tan the loft dookit where the brothers and The Big Man bred thoroughbred Horseman Thief Pouter pigeons.  These wurnae yer ordinary scabby doos either.  Seemingly, The Big Man sent them across tae Canada and America where he goat big money fur them.  It hid been during the anniversary party in The McAslin Bar that The Big Man hid been throwing fur his maw and da that Paul’s pals, The Mankys, hid tanned the loft.  They’d goat away wae aboot fifty or sixty doos and hid sold them tae some gangster guy, who lived oot in Kirkintilloch, who wis known as The Driving Instructor. The connection wae The Driving Instructor hid come fae Flypast, a local doo man, who flew the doos oot the back ae Johnboy’s hoose up in Montrose Street.  While Sarah May’s band wur gieing it big licks in the bar, The Mankys hid been up oan the roof ae the tenement building, breaking intae the Murphys’ loft tae get the Big Man’s prized doos.  Paul smiled tae himsel, remembering the excitement in Johnboy’s voice when he’d telt him the story efter Johnboy hid joined Paul in The Grove fur stealing the copper sheets aff ae the records building up in Sighthill cemetery.  Paul hid awready been sentenced tae an approved school and wis waiting tae get sent tae St Ninians. 

  “That’s whit happens when ootsiders come tae toon and get aff wae the local lassies.  The local boys resent it and want tae hiv a go,” Gareth wis saying, as the two bands sat in front ae the bar, hivving a beer efter The Cowpokes hid finished their set later oan.

  “Aye, it happens to us everywhere we go,” chipped in Big Bob Barrow, bass player wae the Zanussis.

  “Aye, bit it’s okay fur youse.  At least youse ur chookters yersels and live up here.  Ye should see the reaction we get, wae us coming fae Glesga,” Gareth said.

  “Aye, T’ching,” Blair said, daeing an imaginary drum role.

  “We’re no exactly from here, Gareth, ye numpty, ye.  Insch and Inverurie are over a hundred miles from here,” Iain Rae fae the
Zanussis added.

  “Ye know whit Ah mean, Iain.”

  “Ah wis totally surprised tae see youse in a place like Ardgay,” Paul said tae The Cowpokes.

  “Ach, this is nothing.  We play Orkney and Shetland aw the time,” Michael Massie said.

  “So, how long ur ye staying up here, Paul?” Sarah asked him.

  “Ah’m no sure.  Ah’ve no made up ma mind yet.”

  “Ye could dae worse.  The Toonheid his aw bit disappeared.”

  “Ah don’t suppose ye’ve come across Tony Gucci, Joe McManus, Silent Smith or Johnboy Taylor oan yer travels, hiv youse?” Paul asked them.

  “Naw, we’re oan the road fifty two weeks ae the year, so we ur.  The last time Ah saw any ae that crowd wis when Ah saw Johnboy Taylor being chased doon Cathedral Street by a couple ae big polis.  That wis probably sometime last year.  Wan ae his sisters telt me he wis in the clink wae the rest ae yer pals,” Sarah replied.

  “Paul, are you coming?  That’s the cart about to go,” Morven shouted fae the door.

  “Listen, that’s me, Ah’ll hiv tae go.  Thanks fur the help earlier oan,” Paul said tae them.

  “Ach, any time, Paul.  Dinnae let these Highlanders get tae ye...unless they play fur the Zanussis,” Gareth said, laughing, as he nodded across at the Aberdeenshire band.

  “Cheers.  Sarah, mind and tell Calum Ah wis asking efter him,” Paul said, rushing oot the door and breaking intae a run tae catch up wae the cart as it wis turning right oot ae the gate, heiding towards the bridge o’er the River Carron.

  “C’mon, hurry, Paul,” Jock shouted as he shifted his arse, making room fur Paul tae jump oan tae the back ae the cart between him and Morven.  Oan the other side ae Morven, The Gardener’s Daughter sat, swinging her legs back and forth.

  There wisnae any singing gaun oan.  Paul wisnae sure if it wis because everywan wis too pished, which a lot ae them wur, or if they knew The Gardener’s Daughter wis in their midst.  He wis jist aboot tae whisper in Jock’s ear and ask him whit he thought, when Saba started singing in a beautiful, clear voice ‘The Skye Boat Song.’

  “Speed bonnie boat, like a bird on the wing.  Onward the sailors cry...”

  That wis that, everywan who wis conscious oan the horse and cart burst intae song and joined in.  Paul looked aboot.  Mothers, wae sleeping weans oan their laps, hid their heids oan their men’s shoulders, singing.  Even though it wis well efter midnight, the ootline ae the surrounding trees, the hills and the whiteness ae the granite stone ae the bridge could be seen clearly.  Jock’s auntie, Annie McGregor, led the next song.

  “Hey Johnny Cope, are ye waukin yet, or are yer drums a-beating yet?  If ye wur waukin, I would wait, tae gang tae the coals in the morning...”

  By the time they goat tae the castle gates, the cart wis in full song.  Bothan didnae need tae slow doon as the pace ae the Clydesdales, though steady, wis walking speed.

  “So, when will I see you then, Paul?” Morven asked, as The Gardener’s Daughter hopped aff the back, shouting cheerio tae everywan.

  “Same place, same time, next year,” Jock chipped in.

  “Ah’m no sure.  How aboot Monday?  Whit time dae ye finish at?”

  “It’s not like that.  It isn’t set hours like a normal job.”

  “Whit time dis The Duke and his guests usually sit doon tae eat at night?” he asked her.

  “Why?”

  “Morven, whit time dis The Duke hiv his supper?”

  “They usually have a drink before their meal at seven and then get piped in on the half hour.”

   “Okay, Ah’ll see ye up at the wee pond beside the Culrain Burn at the tap ae Balblair Wood oan Monday night at hauf seven.”

  “Right, I think I can manage that, but you’ll have to be careful. If the estate keepers see you, you’ll be in trouble.”

  “See ye oan Monday, Morven,” Paul said, kissing her oan the lips as she hopped aff the cart tae join her boss pal.

  Morven and Saba held each other’s erms as they walked up the castle drive, taking turns at singing their favourite Scottish songs, that they’d learned as soon as they wur able tae speak as weans.  By the time they reached the main doors and went inside, the place wis in semi-darkness. Only a few lights hid been left oan.  It wis clear that everywan hid gone tae bed as Morven turned the key in the lock.  As they crossed the entrance hall, they switched the lights aff as they passed the switches.  At the tap ae the stairs, Saba froze.

  “What?” Morven asked.

  “Did you hear something?” Saba asked her, her eyes shifting aboot.

  “No.”

  “There it is again,” Saba whispered, flicking the switch that threw the stairwell into darkness as she passed.

  “It’s probably the wind outside,” Morven replied, giggling.

  “Run!” Saba suddenly screamed, as she grabbed Morven’s haun, yanking her forward.

  They baith broke intae a run and darted alang the corridor towards Saba’s bedroom door, the sound ae running footsteps catching up behind them.

  “Saba, slow down,” Morven shrieked, laughing.

  “Hurry!” Saba screamed, throwing open her bedroom door before slamming it shut efter Morven hid followed her through and dived, face first, oan tae the bed.

  “Christ’s sake, Saba.”

  “Did you see him?”

  “Who, for God’s sake?”

  “The man in the hood…the one that was chasing us along the corridor,” Saba panted.

  “I never saw anyone.  How much have you had to drink tonight, Saba?”  Morven grinned, as Saba dived oan tap ae
her bed beside her.

  “Morven, are you trying to tell me that you didn’t see who was chasing us?” Saba asked, surprised, a big grin appearing on her coupon.

  “No, why?”

  “Right, I’ve asked you this once before, and I’m going to ask you again and this time you will tell me the truth.  Who did you lose your tooshie
to?”

Chapter Eighteen

  A week hid passed since the Highland Games.  Tae a stranger looking in, life oan the croft, oan tap ae a barren hill, overlooking the Kyle ae Sutherland, wid probably hiv gied the impression ae slow-paced tranquillity.  However, it wis during this week that circumstances conspired wae a series ae events that wur tae hiv far-reaching consequences fur Paul and those aroond him, which wid eventually force him tae make a decision, well before he wis ready tae, aboot whether his future lay in the strath or back amongst the smoke-stained tenements ae Glesga.

  Oan the Sunday, Packer arrived at the croft wae the antibiotics fur Wan-eye and Whitey gied the pup his first dose straight away.  Packer wis oan his way tae deliver a goat that wis recovering efter hivving swallowed a door knob, tae wan ae the tenants up in Glencalvie and asked Paul if he wanted tae go wae him.  Whitey thought it wid gie Paul an opportunity tae visit Croick Church, the churchyard where the families hid gathered efter being cleared aff their land in eighteen forty five.  Innes and Whitey hid described how the families hid scratched their names and the date oan the church windae before they wur carted aff tae who knows where.  Oan the journey, Packer wis keen tae know where Paul hid learned tae box.  Paul filled him in aboot Patsy Milligan and how he’d trained aw the local left-haunders.     

  Insteid ae turning left at the junction jist before the River Carron Bridge, Packer heided alang tae the right.  The scenery, wae the river coming towards them, took Paul’s breath away.  Even though it wis drizzling doon wae rain, they spotted lone fishermen, staunin in the middle ae the river, every mile or so, decked oot in aw the best ae fishing clobber.

  “Aye, it would cost more than a year’s wages for a local man like one of us to be able to fish on the River Carron, Paul,” Packer sighed.

  “Is that right?  Why is that, Packer?” Paul asked him, gieing a wee wave tae the fisherman who could afford a year’s wages, oot ae his side ae the vehicle as they drove past.

  “That’s just how it is.  The big landowners, like The Duke, hire out parts of the river, a day at a time, to all these big business gents who come up from the cities.  It’s all about money.  The closest that local folk get to fishing is as spectators.”

  “Ye’d think the local landowners wid set aside a day or two a year, at least, fur the local people tae hiv a wee go, eh?”

   “I can guarantee ye won’t see anything like that happening in our lifetime,” Packer said, shifting up a gear as they cleared the trees and heided up the glen.

  “Christ, it’s pretty bleak, so it is,” Paul said, scanning fae left tae right across the horizon in front ae them.

  “Aye, it can look pretty grim on days when it’s raining or the sleet is coming down the glen,” Packer agreed.

  “It’s a wonder the people needed persuading tae shift oot ae here.”

  “Well, ye may think that, Paul, but you’ve got to remember the people who were cleared from here were all born and brought up in this glen.  Although times were very tough, this is the only place they knew.  There wasn’t the transport we have now in those days.  The only people that passed through here were the sheep and cattle drovers heading to Inverness to sell the landowner’s stock.  Can you imagine what it must have been like for the old people, mothers with children who were sick, fathers and grandfathers, to be dragged screaming out of their homes by a bunch of soldiers who proceeded to burn down their houses and then told to go away?  I mean, where were they supposed to go?  How many of them knew what was beyond the next strath, which was probably owned by the same landlord that was throwing them off their croft in this strath anyway?”

  “Innes and Whitey said that they wur marched tae the border ae the estate and then telt tae piss aff,” Paul mused, no being surprised tae see mair bleakness when they turned the next bend.

  “Although it was in the month of May when it happened to the Glencalvie folk, a lot of the old people and the really young bairns didn’t cope too well and died within a day or two of being sent packing in the rain.  The ones who managed to make it to the coast had a better chance of survival.  Up in Ullapool, one of the local ministers managed to hire a big boat to take people to Canada.  Although a lot of them perished on route, a lot managed to make land and survived.  For the ones left behind, they waited to be sent for.  Can you imagine how they felt when years later they got word from those who went away, telling them to stay where they were as the land of milk and honey was just as sour and bitter-tasting as what they’d left behind?”

  “Is that it?” Paul asked, as Packer turned a bend and slowly made his way doon the sloping road towards a church, which wis surrounded by a drystane dyke, oan the left haun side ae the road.  When Packer drew up at the wee entrance gate, Paul hesitated.  He’d changed his mind aboot visiting the church and decided tae jist hing oan and go wae Packer tae drap aff the goat that wis sitting quite contented in the back, chewing oan an auld rope it hid found oan the flair.  Packer read his mind.

  “Go on, Paul.  I’ll only be about half an hour, at the most.”

  Paul looked aboot.  There wisnae a soul tae be seen. He looked at Packer, hesitated and then opened his door and stepped oot.

  “Whit if the church is locked?”

  “It won’t be.  Mind and have a look at the leaded glass windows,” Packer said, putting the van intae gear as Paul slammed the door shut and goat a ‘baa’ rebuke fae Billy in the back, fur disturbing his karma.

  Paul stood and watched Packer and Billy drive away before disappearing o’er the brow ae the hill.  He took a deep breath and pushed open the wee squealing gate.  Tae get tae the church, he hid tae walk doon a path between two drystane dykes and then go through another gate at the bottom tae get intae the churchyard.  The place wis silent.  There wisnae a bird tae be heard.  The door intae the church wis straight in front ae him, bit Paul decided tae hiv a dawdle aroond the ootside first so he heided aff tae his right.  The building wis surrounded by gravestanes.  Some wur auld bit some were mair recent and hid flowers in front ae them.  He went oot fae under the trees and across tae the far wall where he could get a good look at the building.  He clocked the lead flashings oan the gable ends and the lead crisscrossing the windaes as he looked aboot.  He reckoned The Mankys wid’ve hid this place stripped doon within twenty minutes ae arriving.  Christ, imagine if they’d been wae him and they’d come across a place like this, he thought tae himsel and smiled.  He moved closer tae the church and started tae peer at the windaes.  Packer hidnae telt him whit windaes it wis that hid the scratches oan them.  He arrived back at the front door, where he’d originally started oot fae, efter gaun aw the way roond the building.  He wisnae too sure whit it wis he wis supposed tae be looking fur and decided tae bite the bullet and go inside.  He reckoned he might be able tae track doon the scratches looking oot fae the inside.  As he went through the inner door, aw the pews wur lined up, silently facing him.  He looked tae his right.  There wis an auld organ jist beside the steps up tae the pulpit.  There wis nae way that anywan wid be able tae slip oot ae here un-noticed wance the service wis underway, he thought tae himsel.  He clocked whit he wis efter as soon as he looked tae his left.  He looked closer and could jist make oot the spidery scratches oan the wee diamond-shaped panes.  He nipped back oot the front door and went roond tae the windae.  He peered closer and wis able tae make oot the scrawls that looked as if they’d been done wae a needle.

  He read ‘Glencalvie people, the wicked generation,’ ‘Glencalvie people was in the church here May 24, 1845,’ ‘John Ross shepherd,’ ‘Glencalvie people was here.’

  He could also make oot a lassie’s name…‘Amy Ross.’

  Paul wondered whit hid become ae Amy and John Ross.  He felt the hairs oan the back ae his neck staun oan end.  He looked aboot.  The rain wis still drizzling doon.  He could picture the families milling aboot where he wis noo staunin, weans howling and the wummin aw screaming at the sojers who wur trying tae get them oot ae the churchyard.  Fur some reason, it reminded him ae the scenes he’d witnessed regularly in the Toonheid, when he wis growing up back in Glesga.  The Sheriff officers wid come mob-haunded, wae the polis as back up, tae sell aff a family’s furniture tae complete strangers during a warrant sale or tae evict them oot oan tae the street fur no being able tae pay their rent.  His maw and da hid experienced a few warrant sales in their time, wae their furniture aw being sold aff, although they hidnae been evicted, as far as he could remember.  He smiled when he thought aboot his pal, Johnboy Taylor’s maw, Helen, who wid get aw the local wummin tae turn up and take oan the Sheriff officers.  She’d ended up in jail efter causing a riot up in John Street.  There hid been aboot a dozen local wummin aw carted aff tae Central, the polis HQ, doon in the Saltmarket.  It hid even made the papers, so it hid. 

  He still couldnae hear any bird song, despite the fact that there wur trees roond aboot the church.  He went back inside and climbed up the steps tae the pulpit.  Innes hid telt him bitterly
that the people who’d scratched their names oan the windaes hid hung aboot and kipped in the churchyard fur o’er a week.  They never went intae the church itsel, bit insteid, sat oot in the rain, as a sign ae respect, no wanting tae enter the church uninvited.  There hid been aboot eighty or ninety ae them.  Who wur they referring tae when they’d scratched
The Wicked Generation oan the glass, he wondered.  How wid the local minister, the Reverend Macbean, hiv explained this wan tae his flock the following Sunday fae the pulpit?  Did they really believe that he wis representing God?  Whit hid the congregation really thought ae the minister’s God when they shut their tired eyes in their beds at night oan the day the families wur driven away fae the churchyard?   He stood looking doon at the empty pews, trying tae picture the expressions oan the upturned faces o’er a hunner and twenty years ago, as the minister spoke aboot respect, loving thy neighbour and God’s mercy, jist before he heided alang the strath tae the castle tae get his Sunday dinner.  Paul went and sat oan wan ae the pews up at the back, the furthest away fae the pulpit.  Although he widnae hiv admitted it tae Packer, he’d felt a wee bit wobbly when he’d first arrived in the churchyard.  The place definitely hid a spookiness aboot it.  Seeing the scratches oan the windaes hid brought it hame tae him that whit hid happened here hid been real enough and that although it hid been aw they years ago, it hid dawned oan him why Innes and Whitey still spoke and grieved aboot it.  The songs oan the cart
heiding tae the Highland Games wurnae jist any auld songs, bit songs fur people, long gone noo, bit no forgotten, who hidnae been strong enough tae staun up fur themsels and hid suffered fur it.   Wid there hiv been a Helen Taylor back then?  Who wis the wee wummin who’d been shot in the chest at point blank range by the sojer?  Whit difference hid her death made?  Hid anything really changed?  The Evening Times in Glesga still hid pages advertising warrant sales every single night, so that the landlords always goat their money in the end.  He wondered how many families in the Toonheid hid goat their furniture dumped oot oan tae the pavement by the landlords in the past week and telt tae clear aff and no come back.  Paul began tae think aboot Glesga.  Like himsel, two ae his pals, Tony Gucci and Joe McManus, wid be getting near tae their liberation dates fae whitever approved schools they wur in.  Paul couldnae imagine whit it wid feel like tae be officially back in circulation oan Freedom Street.  He hidnae heard whit hid happened tae the other two Mankys, Johnboy and Silent, although he expected they’d still hiv a bit tae go, seeing as they wur a year younger than Paul.  He missed their company and the patter that went alang wae it.  The deidline ae the seventh ae July, when he’d be fifteen and free at last tae get back tae Glesga, wis fast approaching.  He’d need tae let Innes and Whitey know fur certain whit the score wis regarding his plans fur the future.  He thought they’d be okay wae that, as he didnae think they saw him being at the croft oan a permanent basis.  The social workers probably hid mair lost boys that they wanted placed up oan the croft wae them.  He thought aboot Morven.  He’d never hid a real girlfriend before and she wis a bit ae a stoater, even by Glesga standards.  She seemed really keen oan him as well, which wis a bit ae a downer since where he wis gaun, she couldnae tag alang.  He wid’ve liked tae hiv goat tae know her a lot better.  As fur they Sellars?  Paul decided that he’d keep well clear ae them.  He’d be oan his way soon and he didnae want tae mess it up by hivving run-ins wae they pair ae bampots.  He’d still been
deep in thought, when he heard the van horn tooting.  Packer hid arrived back.  Paul took his time.  He gied the inside ae the church a backward glance before shutting the door behind him.

  Oan the Monday, a broon envelope arrived fur Innes.  It wis a court summons fur him tae attend Tain Sheriff Court oan the following Friday.  Whitey read it oot while Innes filled his pipe.

  “Mr Innes MacKay, Wester Achnahanat Croft, Kincardine, is summoned to appear at Tain Sheriff Court on Friday the twenty seventh of June, nineteen hundred and sixty nine at nine thirty a.m. to answer the charge that he did on or about Tuesday, the nineteenth of January, nineteen hundred and sixty nine, remove a salmon and make off with the said salmon, with the intention of unlawfully stealing it from the River Shin, Lairg, Sutherland.  The aforesaid Mr MacKay was also found to be in possession of a rowing boat and two oars, which were subsequently sequestered and are currently in the charge of Ross and Sutherland Constabulary, for the purpose of being submitted as evidence at the said trial, dated above.