Journeyman

by Heather Atkinson

  “Alright you,” said Damon, jabbing him in the shoulder. “You know what’s happened to my dad and if you don’t tell me I’ll stuff you in the till.”

  “Better do as he says,” said Raven coming up behind Damon, her gaze cold. “He’s not known for his patience.”

  The ferret glanced at the worried landlord, who nodded. “Okay, I’ll tell you,” he sighed. “But Nik said if anyone came asking after him to deny all knowledge. I know you’re his son and daughter, he talked about you often enough.” He glanced at Damon. “I thought he’d exaggerated but it seems not.”

  “What do you know?” he growled.

  “It isn’t the first time Nik’s stayed at the hotel, he’s been coming to us for years. He usually stays for a few days when he’s travelling along the north west coast. He said someone had followed him from Strathpeffer and that they’d tracked him here. He’s usually so cool and calm it was a shock to see how worried he was. He said the person chasing him was really dangerous.”

  “Did he say who it was?” said Raven.

  “No, he wouldn’t tell me, he said for my own safety. I suggested he go to the police but he laughed. He said the local police weren’t prepared for what was hunting him. Those were his exact words.”

  There was no doubt in Raven’s mind anymore. Silas was on her dad’s tail. “Where did he go when he left here?”

  “Across the bridge to Skye.”

  “Where’s he staying on the island?”

  “I don’t know, he didn’t say. He was leaving a trail so it looked like he’d headed south to Tarbet. He hoped that would be enough to throw whoever was following him off the scent.”

  “Did he leave a forwarding number?”

  “No. Nik’s an old pal and he made my sister very happy in the last few months of her life. I wanted to help but I really didn’t do much except…”

  “Except what?” said Damon.

  “I…” Once again the ferret glanced at the landlord, who looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

  Raven turned her attention to him, deciding he was as shifty as his friend. “What do you know about all this?”

  The portly moustached man appeared surprised to have been addressed directly, as well as nervous. “Nothing much,” he began. “Nik came in here to drink.”

  “And?”

  “That’s it.”

  “No it’s not.” Her eyes narrowed. “Don’t think the bar between us will protect you.”

  He stared back at her, oblivious to the man further down the bar attempting to attract his attention by waving his pint glass in the air. “Alright,” he sighed, unable to tolerate that cold stare any longer. “We caused a distraction so Nik could get across the bridge.”

  “What distraction?”

  “I wore his coat and hat,” said the ferret. “And drove his car all the way down to Tarbet. I dumped the car and Jim picked me up.”

  “That’s me,” said the landlord, pointing to himself. “Jim.”

  “By the time we came back,” continued the ferret. “Nik had already crossed the bridge.”

  “So you didn’t actually see him cross it?” said Raven.

  “No but he sent me a text message saying he’d got across safely.”

  “How can you be sure he sent that message?”

  “Because he added the number forty three at the end, like he said he would. No one else knew he was going to do that.”

  Raven nodded. That was indeed the code One Eye used to confirm something. “Have you noticed anything suspicious since he left? Anyone hanging around?”

  “Actually, I did notice something odd not long after Nik left,” said Jim. “A really huge shadow was lurking outside the back of the pub when I was putting out some empty barrels. It was a man. He looked like a giant,” he said with a self-deprecating smile. “I guess the dark made him look bigger than he was and my imagination played tricks on me.” He ended this statement with a nervous laugh.

  “Have you spoken to Nik since he went over the bridge?” said Raven.

  They both shook their heads.

  Raven looked to Damon. “We’ve got what we came for. Let’s go.”

  Damon gave the ferret a hard look before following her outside.

  “It’s definite,” said Raven as they hurried back to the car. “Silas is chasing One Eye. I just hope to God he hasn’t got hold of him yet.”

  “Two days ago he sent me that text message,” said Damon as they jumped into the car. “He could only have just crossed the bridge with Silas not far behind.”

  “Let’s hope he managed to lose Silas on the island,” she said, turning the car around, heading towards the bridge.

  CHAPTER 7

  One Eye was pretty much left alone for the remainder of his hospital stay, until the following morning when he was rudely woken by a yawning doctor wanting to examine him. After proclaiming him well enough to be discharged, along with some advice on caring for his still massively swollen ankle, the doctor wandered off to prod and poke the boy in the opposite bed.

  When the same cranky nurse brought One Eye his breakfast he said, “Don’t worry. Your husband will be fine.”

  She stared at him, thrown for a moment before the scowl returned. “How do you know about Phil’s tests? Has someone been gossiping?”

  “Not at all.” He placed his hand over hers. “He will be fine.”

  The scowl smoothed itself out, taking years off her and she smiled. “He will.”

  With that she walked away, a little dazed but with a lighter step, leaving One Eye to tuck into rubbery eggs and runny beans. He was so hungry he didn’t care that it was tasteless mush.

  He couldn’t dress for Helen’s arrival because he had no clothes to change into, the ones he’d worn during that desperate race through the woods having been ruined.

  After eating he enjoyed a hot shower and a shave, his beard having been in serious danger of returning. His clothing dilemma was solved when Helen turned up with a black jumper and blue jeans for him.

  “These are my dad’s,” she explained, thrusting the bag at him. “You’re about the same size.”

  He drew the curtains around his bed to try them on. One Eye discovered that Helen’s father was skinnier than himself, the material clinging to his body but they’d do.

  Leaning on the crutch the hospital had given him, he pulled aside the curtain.

  “Oh my,” said Helen.

  He looked down at himself. “Is something wrong?”

  “No, I just had no idea you were so well…”

  “What?”

  “Defined,” she ended with a blush, her eyes roaming over his strong shoulders. “Especially for someone of your age.” Her eyes widened when she realised what she’d said. “Not that you’re old, I mean what are you? Forty five? Fifty? I don’t know, you’re one of those people it’s impossible to put an age to and I’ve never been very good at guessing…”

  “It’s alright,” he smiled, interrupting her stream of embarrassed babble. “And I’m afraid I can’t be of any help because I can’t remember.”

  “That must be so horrible for you. Anyway, we’d better go. Dad’s waiting outside in the car and he’s not very patient.”

  “Lead the way,” he said with an elegant sweep of the hand.

  Just before they left the nurse appeared. “How did you know about my husband?” she said. “Do you have powers?”

  One Eye glanced at a surprised Helen before replying. “I’m afraid not. I did overhear the other nurses talking and I thought you could use some hope. You looked so sad.”

  “But you were right. My husband just called, his test results were normal. It’s such a weight off.” She studied him closely. “I think there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

  “How appropriate,” he said, winking his one good eye before leaving the ward with Helen, the nurse watching him go with a puzzled frown.

  “What was that about?” said Helen as they headed outside togeth
er.

  “She’s just reading more into a situation than there actually is,” he replied.

  “You’re a mysterious man Nik. I think you’re really going to liven up our sleepy little village.”

  “I have the unfortunate habit of livening things up,” he murmured as he limped through the door.

  Helen’s father sighed and shifted in the driver’s seat of his large silver four-by-four.

  “For God’s sake Alan, will you keep still?” said his wife Cherie, who was sitting in the passenger seat beside him, touching up her make-up in the mirror of the sun visor. “You’re driving me crazy moving about all the time.”

  Alan wanted to retort that her constantly preening in the mirror drove him crazy but he held his tongue. An argument with Cherie was not something to be taken on lightly. “She’s been ages and I’ve got stuff to do back at the B&B.”

  “She’s barely been gone ten minutes. It’s you, you’ve never been able to sit still, you’ve got too much energy. Until it’s bedtime,” she muttered.

  “Finally,” said Alan, relieved to see his daughter exit the front of the hospital. “Jesus Christ, look at that.”

  Cherie was so surprised by his exclamation that she almost stabbed herself in the eye with her mascara brush. “What the hell’s wrong with you?”

  “Look at what she’s come back with.”

  Cherie glanced out of the window and her eyes widened. “Oh my. He’s a pirate.”

  “Pirate?” spluttered Alan.

  “Well he’s got the limp and the eye patch.”

  “What is it with Helen and her waifs and strays? She was always bringing home injured birds and furry wee things when she was a kid.”

  “So this pirate is another of her projects?”

  “Looks that way. None of her little animal friends managed to survive. Let’s hope the pirate stands a chance.”

  Cherie’s painted red lips split into a smile. “He fills out your clothes very well.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Oh, nothing,” she replied, eyes roaming over the stranger’s broad shoulders.

  Helen opened the rear door of the car for One Eye. It took him some time to climb in with his swollen ankle and crutches.

  “You in okay?” Helen asked him.

  “Yes, thank you,” he replied. He smiled at Cherie, who had turned in her seat to face him, giving him her best smile. “Hello,” he said.

  “Hello,” she purred, causing her husband to frown. “Nice to meet you. I’m Cherie and this is my husband, Alan. Say hello Alan.”

  “Yeah, hi,” he mumbled without turning round, starting the engine as Helen jumped into the back seat with One Eye. “Seat belts on everyone.”

  “Yes, we know,” sighed Cherie. “He always says that,” she told One Eye with a conspiratorial wink. “Even though we always have our belts on.”

  “It’ll be me getting done by the police if we get caught, not you and I have an unblemished driving record.”

  “Well bully for you.”

  “Please don’t argue,” said Helen, cringing with embarrassment. “Poor Nik will be leaping out of the car to get away from us.”

  “We’re not arguing,” said Cherie. “It’s just our banter. Nik doesn’t mind, do you?”

  “Not at all,” he said pleasantly.

  “See, what did I tell you?” said Cherie with a satisfied smile. “So, Helen tells us you have amnesia?”

  Helen sighed and rolled her eyes at her mother’s tactlessness.

  “Yes, sadly I do,” he replied.

  “So you really can’t remember anything about yourself?”

  “No. Just my name and that’s about it.”

  “So sad. Who knows? You could be a billionaire or something.”

  “Judging by the clothes I was wearing it’s highly doubtful,” said One Eye with a self-deprecating smile.

  “There’s something intensely romantic about amnesia,” said Cherie with a wistful sigh.

  “Oh God,” muttered Helen with a roll of the eyes.

  “Being unable to remember who you are, where home is, whether there’s a sweetheart waiting for you,” she said with a meaningful look at Nik.

  “It’s hardly romantic,” said Helen. “More like scary.”

  “Or the chance to start over again. Just think of the possibilities.”

  “Want me to bash you over the head and see if you can’t get your own dose of it?” said Alan, causing Cherie to glare at him.

  One Eye was relieved when they all lapsed into silence and he could study the rugged landscape they were passing through. He loved Scotland with its lochs, snow-capped mountains and wild hills, it reminded him of home - not Yorkshire but Norway. Not that he was prone to sentiment but everyone needed somewhere to call home.

  The village of Caillte was a good hour’s drive from the hospital, nestled between a thick forest on one side and the sea on the other, the perfect place to shield him from his pursuer while he recovered from his injuries. Or the perfect place for his pursuer to corner him should he discover he’d returned and no doubt his pursuer’s enquiries would lead him back here. One Eye resolved to leave Skye as soon as he was physically able.

  The car pulled onto the drive of a very stately-looking two-storey detached house on the edge of the village. In summer he surmised the garden would be an array of colour but everything had been neatly cut back for winter, awaiting the opportunity to blossom again. Two of those bushes cut into round balls everyone was so fond of stood sentinel either side of the shiny red front door.

  As they stepped inside One Eye was assailed by a mouth-watering aroma. “Mmm, has someone been baking bread?”

  “That would be me,” smiled Cherie. “How about you settle yourself down in the lounge and I’ll bring you through a couple of my hot buttered buns?”

  Helen cringed when her mum winked at One Eye.

  “Err, yes thank you,” he replied.

  “Tea? Coffee?”

  “Tea please. Milk no sugar.”

  “Sweet enough eh?” she grinned before walking through to the kitchen, sashaying her hips for all she was worth.

  Relieved she was gone, Helen turned her attention to One Eye. “The lounge is through here.”

  “Thank you,” he said, hobbling after her on his crutch.

  The theme of the décor was deep red tartan interspersed with warm, cosy creams and he sank gratefully into an extremely comfortable armchair by the window. This room looked out at the hills rolling off into the distance. The sky was turning black, pregnant with rain, only adding to the wild beauty.

  “That’s some view,” said One Eye.

  “I suppose but when you’ve lived here your whole life you hardly notice it anymore.”

  “Never take beauty for granted,” said One Eye in a faraway voice.

  Helen was about to question him on that statement before changing her mind. “Sorry about Mum,” she said instead.

  “No need to apologise. She’s just very…confident.”

  “That’s not the word I’d use. I should have warned you she’s a horrible flirt.”

  “Please don’t worry about it. I only hope I don’t inadvertently offend your father.”

  “Nah, he’s used to it,” she said with a dismissive wave.

  They were interrupted by the door opening. A tall, thin man with sandy blond hair and glasses perched on the end of his nose walked into the room. He peered at One Eye over the top of his glasses and frowned. “And who might you be?”

  “The name’s Nik,” he said, extending a hand out to him. “Forgive me for not standing,” he added, indicating the crutch.

  “Nik what?”

  “Just Nik, for now.”

  “I don’t understand,” said the man, frown deepening. “Are you one of those artists who only has a first name?”

  “He’s got amnesia,” said Helen.

  “Ah, so you’re the Wild Man?”

  “Excuse me?” said One Eye.
>
  “Everyone’s talking about the local Wild Man Helen and Simon found by the woods. The patch should have given me a clue. You’re quite the celebrity around here.”

  “I had no idea.”

  “So you’re staying here then?”

  “Nik has amnesia after the fall he took,” said Helen. “He’s staying here until he remembers who he is. Nik, this is Frederick Pritchard. He’s a wildlife photographer.”

  “Sounds very interesting,” said One Eye. “I’d love to see your work some time.”

  “You would?” he exclaimed with delight. “Wait right here. Oh, not that you can get very far with those crutches but I’ll be back in a sec.”

  “You’re going to regret saying that,” said Helen after Frederick had dashed out of the room. “He’s got hundreds of photos and there’s only so many pictures of a buzzard one person can take.”

  “I thought it might be a pleasant way to wile away the time while I recover.”

  “Or you might be reaching for the shotgun by morning. Still, if you say nice things about his work he’ll be your best friend forever.”

  Cherie entered the room bearing a tray laden down with a pile of warm buttered teacakes, a pot of tea, a cup and saucer, biscuits and grapes.

  “I bet they didn’t feed you up in hospital,” she said. “So I thought you could do with something to tide you over until lunch.”

  “Tide him over?” said Helen. “There’s enough there to feed an army. A big one.”

  “Nik’s gone through a trauma, he deserves some spoiling,” she said, placing the tray on the table beside his chair.

  “And it is most appreciated,” he said. “This looks wonderful.”

  “Thank you,” she smiled, pleased with his praise.

  “Could I get a tray of that?” said Frederick, reappearing in the doorway holding a pile of portfolios. “I’m famished.”

  “Yes, I suppose,” she sniffed. “But it will go on your bill.”

  Helen took one look at the pile of folios Frederick held and decided to make a hasty exit.

  “You ready to take a look then?” said Frederick, all eagerness, drawing up a chair beside Nik’s.