The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (39 page)

  “Right, noo, listen up.  Ah want that lassie before they corrupt basturts doon in Central get their greedy paws oan her.  Ah want the word tae go oot, oan the QT, that there’s five hunner quid fur anywan that’ll lead us tae her and a hunner quid fur information oan the whereaboots ae Tony Gucci and Joe McManus.  Remember, she’s worth a bloody fortune tae us and Ah want tae see her tucked up in the warehouse within the next twenty four tae forty eight hours.  Noo, we cannae mess aboot here, boys.  If we’re lucky, we’ll be rolling in it this time next week.  Ah’ve heard that her da, The Duke, is loaded, so there’s a lot at stake
here,” he’d reminded them, before they disappeared doon the stairs.

“Danny, hing oan a second, Ah want a word wae ye,” he’d shouted tae Danny Murphy.

  “Aye, Pat?”

  “Right, keep this tae yersel, bit get a haud ae that Bob the Bore.  He’s been aboot too long noo.  He knows too much and whit he disnae know, he makes up as he goes alang.  If we get this rich bitch, we could make a cartload ae dosh.  We cannae risk hivving that bore ae a basturt blurting oot aw o’er the shoap that he’s palmed aff the info oan The Duke’s daughter tae us.  And remember, don’t tell anywan within the team whit ye’re daeing.  Keep it clean and make sure he isnae gonnae pop up unexpectedly.  Hiv ye goat that?”

  “Aye, Ah’ll gie The Goat a shout and we’ll get it done at the weekend alang at Greasy Jakes,” Danny hid said.

  “Naw, Danny.  Ah want this done sooner…preferably the night.”

  “Nae bother, Pat.  Fuck, who wid’ve thought they shitey-arsed Mankys wid’ve hid the baws tae pull aff something like this, eh?  Ah kin remember when they wur aw o’er the Toonheid, snow-drapping five-o-wans aff ae people’s washing lines, when they wur wee whippersnappers.”

  “Oh, Ah’ve known fur a long time whit that manky wee crew wid be capable ae when they grew up.  They wur always in a bit ae a hurry, although Ah must admit, they’ve surprised me wae this wan.  Ah picked up oan the grapevine that Gucci and McManus robbed that daft eejit Skinny Malinky, the Provi cheque man, up a close in Petershill Road the day Gucci wis liberated fae the closed block.  He never wasted much time.  Ah don’t know whit the score is there though, as Skinny never reported it tae the bizzies.  Oh, and in case Ah furget, see if ye kin get me a map that highlights aw the roads that come intae the city fae the west,” The Big Man hid said, reaching fur his Racing Times and his packet ae slim Panatela cigars.

Chapter Sixty One

  Saba fetched her bag and returned tae the middle ae the road and used it tae sit oan.  She spotted her radio sitting oan tap ae a white line fifteen feet further alang in the direction that Paul and Wan-eye hid taken.  Fur some reason, she hidnae noticed it efter Paul hid driven aff.  She stood up and went and picked it up before returning tae her seat, where she laid it oan the ground in front ae her. Efter a few minutes ae looking aboot and trying tae suppress her panic, she leaned o’er and switched it oan.  Dionne Warwick’s voice singing ‘Walk On By’ filled the air.  She burst intae tears and couldnae stoap sobbing fur the next ten minutes.  She didnae think he wid’ve left her stranded oot in the middle ae naewhere.  Efter he’d sped aff, she’d stood watching the boat crawl up a steep hill in the distance and vanish o’er its brow.  She’d waited, praying and hauf expecting tae see him reappear tae apologise and tell her it hid jist been wan ae his sick jokes, bit she’d gied up.  She looked aboot.  There wis a Loch opposite her.  She remembered looking at the map jist before they’d turned aff at the signpost tae Invergarry.  She thought she wis looking at Loch Garry although she couldnae be sure.  She wisnae too sure whit she should dae next. She thought aboot her mother and father fur the first time since she’d run away.  She wondered whit they were daeing and whit her mother’s reaction wid be, back in New York, when she heard that she wis missing.  She started tae feel sorry for them as well as fur hersel.  She regretted leaving the Kyle.  Whit hid she been thinking ae?  How oan earth did she end up oan a lonely deserted road, somewhere in the Western Highlands, miles fae anywhere, wae a madman…or in Paul’s case, a mad boy?  She felt sick tae the pit ae her stomach.  She couldnae fathom him oot.  Oan the surface he seemed reasonably calm…pleasant even…bit underneath, he wis quick tae strike oot at anything or anywan that came anywhere close tae him.  Morven hid said tae her that although he came across as if he didnae hiv a care in the world, she thought that somewhere deep inside him wis buried a lot ae hurt.  She’d also telt Saba that he wis quite evasive and defensive when it came tae talking aboot anything that wis mair than skin-deep.  Saba felt she’d been getting through tae him and that they’d been beginning tae understaun each other better.  She felt her face flush wae anger when she thought aboot his accusations in relation tae her mother.  How dare he come oot wae that?  Whit did he know, anyway…this lost boy fae the slums?  Who did he think he wis?  She switched aff the radio in the middle ae ‘Baby Come Back’ and picked up her bag.  She looked fae right tae left, hesitated, and then moved aff tae the left, following the road towards the hill that the boat hid disappeared o’er.

  Paul couldnae believe his eyes.  There, jist efter he’d driven o’er the tap ae the hill efter dumping The Gardener’s Daughter, stood a pink Mr Whippy ice cream van.  It crossed his mind that whit he wis seeing wis similar tae in the films he’d seen when he wis a snapper…where the guy is oot staggering and stumbling across the desert and clocks a palm tree-covered oasis and heids in that direction before diving intae the lovely cool water, only tae find himsel daeing the breast stroke in the sand.  Wae that in mind, he pulled o’er tae the side ae the road.  He wis fair chuffed when he realised that Mr Whippy wis real, as Wan-eye sauntered across and pished oan the van’s front wheel.  Paul casually strode across, only tae be confronted by
Mr Whippy’s spotty bare arse gaun like the clappers, humping Mrs Whippy intae a froth.  Paul wis jist aboot tae creep away, back tae the Landy, when Mrs Whippy let oot a yelp and pushed the dirty basturt aff ae her and dived, tits dangling oot o’er the tap button ae her blouse, intae the ice cream cone section.

  “Er, sorry tae disturb ye, bit ur ye open?” Paul asked Mr Whippy, who’d whipped up his troosers, leaving his fly open tae the elements.

  “It depends oan what ye’re after, son,” the horny basturt replied, peering o’er Paul’s shoulder tae see if there wis mair than wan customer oan the go.

  He wis gonnae ask fur a Ninety-Nine, bit didnae want tae offend him by knocking back the cone if he didnae witness the filthy basturt washing they hauns ae his first.

  “Ah’ll hiv a couple ae bottles ae Irn Bru, hauf a dozen Mars Bars, four Cadburys Flakes and twelve ae they wee cheeky sherbet Flying Saucers,” Paul said, as a flushed looking Mrs Whippy reappeared oan the scene, looking like the vestal virgin she clearly wisnae.

  “Did ye get that, Donna?”

  “Coming up,” Donna said, the professional that she wis, slinging the chocolate bars oan tae the coonter, efter sliding open the wee windae oan the side ae the van.

  “Nice dug, ye hiv there.  He looks like a pirate, so he dis,” Mrs Whippy observed.

  “Aye, so Ah’ve been telt,” Paul agreed, haunin o’er a ten-bob note.

  Efter he goat his change, he wandered back tae the Landy and goat in.  He wisnae too sure if he should hing aboot fur a while or move oan, as he’d obviously spoiled their wee humpy-pumpy session.  When he looked across at the van, the pair ae them wur sitting thegither, her wae her heid oan his shoulder, looking oot at the panoramic views ae the glen.  Paul looked aboot.  Apart fae the occupants ae the Mr Whippy van and him, there wisnae a soul tae be seen.  He clocked a wee sign at the side ae the road that said ‘Glengarry viewpoint’.  He goat oot the map and spread it across the steering wheel, before taking a slug ae the Irn Bru and unwrapping wan ae the Mars Bars.  He traced his finger alang the route.  His junction route list telt him he’d tae turn right at Invergarry and heid towards Fort William, bit making sure he didnae end up there.  The Gardener’s Daughter hid telt him that that wid take them intae the start ae the Great Glen.  He wondered if the Great Glen wis where her MacDonald ancestors hid goat slaughtered by the Campbells.  If they wur anything like her, nae fucking wonder the Campbells wanted tae dae away wae them aw, he thought.  It didnae take him long tae start tae feel a wee bit guilty aboot slinging that posh arse ae hers oot oan tae the roadside.  He looked aboot, making it obvious that he wisnae spying oan the lovebirds across in the Mr Whippy van.  There wis nae way in a month ae Sundays that he’d be able tae dae a U-turn oan that road.  He considered unhooking the trailer wae the boat oan it and gaun back tae try and get her, bit hid changed his mind.  

  “Fuck her,” he said tae Wan-eye, who wis sitting in her seat, slobbering at the mooth, hoping fur a bit ae his Mars Bar, as the sound ae ‘Baby Come Back’ by The Equals wafted across tae him fae the radio in Mr Whippy’s van.

  Paul thought aboot the situation.  He knew fine well that he wis making things harder fur himsel by getting shot ae her.  He’d lost the rag when she slapped him.  It hid taken him by surprise.  He’d obviously scored a bulls-eye tae get that kind ae reaction aff ae her.  He wondered which comment hid hit the mark. The bit aboot slinging everything back in her da’s face didnae seem too bad tae him.  Being accused ae fancying yer maw’s young shag-stags?  Well, that wis probably guaranteed tae get a bit ae a reaction.  She wisnae as strong as she obviously made hersel oot tae be, he thought tae himsel.  He’d always hid her doon as a brittle, uppity, hoity-toity spoiled brat, although Morven hid telt him that she wis actually quite sensitive and saft, underneath that superior attitude that she threw aboot like confetti.  He drummed his fingers oan the steering wheel through the map, wondering whit his next move should be.  If he wis found in possession ae the Landy oan his lonesome, he’d be fucked.  That wid be the excuse the bizzies needed as a starter fur ten.  He also thought aboot whit the reaction wid’ve been back in Culrain when they’d found oot she’d legged it.  He wondered if the papers hid goat a haud ae it.  He’d seen Innes reading wan called The Northern something and he remembered him saying it only came oot wance a week, so he knew him and The Gardener’s Daughter hid until the Thursday before the story broke wider, gieing them plenty ae time tae dae whit needed tae be done.  The fact that she wis a Duke’s daughter wis probably a problem though.  If her auld man wis as rich as they said he wis, then he’d be bound tae hiv a bit ae clout.  Paul knew that it widnae take the brain ae Britain tae connect him wae her disappearance.  He looked aboot again.  The sun wis belting doon.

  “Fuck it!  Ah’ll hiv tae go back and pick her up,” he said tae Wan-eye, whose tail suddenly started slapping oan the seat beside him and who clearly wisnae listening tae anything he wis saying.  The dug wis peering intae the wing mirror oan his side ae the Landy.

  Paul leaned o’er and glanced in Wan-eye’s wing mirror, bit couldnae see anything.  He slid across tae the passenger seat, pushing Wan-eye closer tae the door.  The dug wis getting really excited noo.  Paul peered back in the direction he’d come fae.  He could see her heid and shoulders shimmering intae view o’er the brow ae the hill.  She’d her heid doon and her body wis growing longer wae each staggering step.  He wound doon the windae and shifted back across tae the driver’s seat.  Efter aboot five minutes, he heard her footsteps crunching oan the gravel, drawing closer, as Wan-eye’s tail thumped harder oan the seat.  When she came level wae the passenger’s side windae, she bent o’er slightly, drapped her bag and radio, gied Wan-eye a quick scratch oan the lug and hauf walked, hauf staggered in the direction ae Mr and Mrs Whippy.

  “Ah’d be careful ae whit ye order, if Ah wis you,” he said tae her cheerfully, noticing her puffy eyes. 

  She’d obviously been greeting.  Serves her right, he thought tae himsel.  Maybe she widnae be as quick tae slap people aboot in the future.  A few minutes later, she returned tae her bag and radio, licking the dribbling ice cream ae her Ninety-Nine aff her fingers as it melted in the baking sun.  She walked past, ignoring him, and opened the back door, before returning tae pick up her belongings so that she could dump them in the back.  When she opened the passenger door and goat in, shooing Wan-eye oan tae the wee wooden
box, that
hid wan ae her Fair Isle jumpers covering it and the dug hid been using as a seat, she sat in silence, licking her cone and staring aheid. Paul wis gonnae ask her if she wis okay, bit decided no tae say anything as he wisnae too sure whether she wis ready tae erupt or she wis jist keeping quiet in case he slung her back oot oan tae the roadside.  Efter ten minutes ae deafening silence, wae the exception ae the occasional song fae Mr Whippy’s radio across the way and the noise ae Saba taking the occasional slug oot ae the Irn Bru bottle, he started up the Landy and indicated tae nowan that he wis aboot tae move aff.

  “There’s a melting Mars Bar or a Flake there if ye’re hungry,” he said, swinging the nose ae the Landy oot oan tae the road.

  She never spoke fur ages, even when they stoapped at Laggan tae stock up oan some breid rolls, cheese, biscuits and dug food.  It wis only when they turned right at the commando memorial at Gairlochy and Paul stoapped tae hiv a look at the commando statues, that she opened up.

  “I’m sorry for striking you in the face,” she said, as they sat eating a roll and cheese at the base ae the memorial. “That was unforgivable of me.”

  “Never felt a thing,” he replied warily, wondering whit the fuck wis coming next.

  “Of course, you were right...up to a point.”

  “Oh, aye?”

  “I did feel attracted to some of my mother’s boyfriends.  Although they were all much older than me, they were nearer my age than hers.  Some of them were really quite dishy too.”

  “So, did ye get aff wae any ae them?”

  “No, but there were times when some of them made it plain that they were interested in getting to know me better…if you know what I mean,” she replied, a wee faint smile appearing at the side ae her mooth.  “The recent one…the one she’s now engaged to…is so sleazy.  I can’t stand him.  He makes my flesh crawl.  The majority of them were only after her money and the ones that were not, she dumped because she got bored with them.  She seemed to be attracted to the bad boys.  When I made friends…older friends who were male…she became a nightmare.  She would tell me they were not good enough for me and that she didn’t want me to hang about with bad boys, or that they were too old.  She criticised my choice of music, even though she’d slept with half the lead singers in the groups that I had in my record collection.  The arguments were horrendous.”

  “Maybe she didnae want ye tae end up like her.”

  “She said that she wanted me to marry into the Ivy League…one of the great American families…anything below that was a non-starter, as far as she was concerned.”

  “Did she ever try and get aff wae anywan ye fancied yersel?”

  “Oh, yes.  It was like a blood sport, as far as she was concerned. I never invited any of my male friends around. I was always scared to mention anyone I liked.  If I did, she’d turn up a couple of days later and tell me to forget him as he was hopeless in the sack.  Can you imagine the embarrassment of your mother telling you that your idol was lousy in bed?  When I was about twelve, there was a teacher at my school who all the girls used to fancy.  We’d leave silly little love-notes on our desks for him to find.  He looked a bit like Elvis.  One day I came home and found the pair of them in bed.  I refused to go back to school the next day.  After being at home for a couple of weeks, she put me to Brearley.”

  “That maw ae mine wis intae that Kenneth McKellar wan.  If he’d perched oan her, she wid’ve been shouting it fae the tap ae the lamp-posts, no that anywan wid’ve believed her, mind ye.”

  “Who’s Kenneth McKellar?”

  “Remember Calum, The Bonnie Highlander, in the bar last night?”