by Ian Todd
“Not at all, Heckie. Given the family connection to Lochinver over the past ten years and being the sole director of Assynt Development Holdings, it wouldn’t be right and proper if I engaged in any sort of manner regarding this agenda item,” The Treasure replied modestly. “But I would like to thank you and all the members of the new community council, on behalf of my family, for your kind words.”
“Right, sir, in that case, I’ll chust continue. So, as everyone in the community is well aware, despite an initial huge investment in purchasing the land, Mr Hamilton here has agreed to repaint the inside and outside of the hall. Not only that, but the family as a whole, have agreed to gift the cost of an extension that will include a new kitchen and modern toilet facilities, to bring it into the twentieth century, at the princely sum of two thousand pounds,” he announced, as wance again, twelve knuckles, excluding the smiling benefactor himsel, aw rattled aff the tap ae the table. “Now, then, Assynt Development Holdings’ planning application to Sutherland District Council will be up for consideration on the 18th of this month and is in two parts. The first part is the extension to Lochinver Memorial Hall. Is there anyone present that may have any objections to the proposal?” he asked, looking aboot. “Fine. With there being no objections, can the minute state that the full council unanimously recommend part one of the proposal, Angus?” The Chairman said tae local fishing skipper, Angus MacKenzie, the secretary, who nodded. “We now move on to part two, which asks us to comment on the application by Assynt Development Holdings to build sixteen lodge houses on the bottom of the plot, at the back of Lochinver Memorial Hall. The application states that the lodges will be used to accommodate shooting and fishing parties that will contribute to the local economy, bringing much needed employment to the area. As there doesn’t appear to be any objections to part one of the application, can the minute also state that the full council unanimously recommend part two of the planning proposal, Angus?” The Chairman asked the secretary.
The secretary nodded once again, as the treasurer beamed, gieing the chairman a wee bow ae gratitude.
“Right, then, if there’s no other competent business that anyone wishes to raise, I now call this first meeting of Lochinver Community Council to a satisfactory closure. The Laird’s secretary, Miss Mary MacLeod, has been a busy bee in the soon to be replaced old kitchen, where she’s been patiently waiting to serve up the tea and biscuits. Good night and thank you to everyone for turning up on this foul evening,” The Chairman declared, as the sound ae the rain drumming aff the side ae the draughty building caused everywan tae turn and look at the storm through the cracked panes ae glass.
Chapter Eight
“Johnboy,” Senga screeched fearfully, like a high-pitched siren, violently shaking his shoulder beside her in the dark.
“Eh, whit the…?”
“The cat…Mr Hopkins…Ah think there’s something wrang,” she hauf screamed in his ear, as the sound ae the cat meowing loudly, furiously scratching oan the bedroom door reached him, and he swung his legs oot ae his side ae the bed. “Ah hivnae heard him sound like that before when Ah’ve slung him oot.”
Johnboy padded sleepily across the bedroom flair tae the door.
“Right, whit’s the matter…?” he wis jist saying, as he opened the door.
The cat shot past him and he slammed the door shut.
“Fucking hell! Quick Senga,” he shouted as he ran across and slid up the windae, being blasted by the sharp wind, and suddenly causing the smoke tae be sucked through aw sides ae the door intae the room.
“Oh ma God, whit is it?” she wailed, scrambling across his side ae the mattress tae reach him, as he stood there withoot a stitch oan, looking between whit wis ootside the windae and the bedroom door.
“The fucking hoose is oan fire, so it is.”
“Whit?” she cried oot in panic.
“We’ll need tae get oot…oot the windae…”
“Bit…”
“Right, listen up. Ah’ll go first and then you follow me, okay?”
“Bit…”
“Look, we don’t hiv time fur aw this. Ah’ll go first, then you. Ah’ll be at the bottom waiting tae catch ye,” he shouted o’er her doubts, looking quickly back at the bedroom door again, noo noticing the thick, white smoke billowing across the bedroom ceiling fur the first time, as he picked up the cat that wis noo meowing oan the windae ledge wae its tail swishing, looking fur his lug tae be scratched, as he picked it up and tossed it oot intae the blustery darkness.
“Senga!” Johnboy screamed, looking up at the windae fae below, as she turned back and leaned across and snatched up his jumper fae the chair beside the dresser and slipped it o’er her heid, covering up the tap hauf ae her naked body before clambering oan tae the windae ledge.
“Oh, it’s too high,” she wailed, drawing back.
“Senga, listen tae me,” he shouted up at her, trying tae make his voice sound encouraging, fighting tae control the quaver in it as he started shivering uncontrollably, while the swirling snowflakes started collecting oan his heid and shoulders, blinding him. “We probably don’t hiv much time. Turn roond oan tae yer stomach. Hurry. Ah’ll catch ye, don’t worry.”
“Ah…Ah’m feart,” she whined, bit eventually started daeing whit she’d been telt.
“That’s it, keep gaun…mind and ease yer body oot aff the ledge wae yer feet against the building.”
“Johnboy!” she screeched, dangling above him.
“Let go, Senga. Ah’m here. Hurry.”
“Ah cannae…Ah’m scared tae let go,” she wailed, as he stood back and took a run at the side ae the building, jist managing tae grab her by the ankle, efter hauf running up the wall, catching her full weight a millisecond efter his bare feet landed back oan the snow-covered ground.
“Right, quick,” he panted, as the baith ae them ran barefoot towards Betsy, her wee car, as he prayed that she hidnae locked it when she arrived hame earlier.
The passenger door opened, and he bundled her in as Mr Hopkins shot intae the fitwell at her feet beside the pedals, before he slammed the door shut and turned tae look at the building.
“Johnboy!” she shouted, attempting tae open the door as he aboot turned, making tae heid aff.
“Look, Ah’ll be back in a minute,” he assured her, skipping roond the side ae the building tae the back door, ignoring the wee chucky stanes digging intae the soles ae his bare feet.
When he reached the flaked painted door, he stood tae the side ae it and turned the handle before violently pushing it open. A thick cloud ae white smoke billowed oot the tap hauf ae the opening. Efter a few seconds, he quickly knelt doon and reached up and switched oan the ootside light, flooding the back area and lighting up the utility room where the washing machine wis. He noticed the smoke wis streaming oot ae the tap and bottom ae the kitchen door, relieved that there wis nae sign ae any flames. Wance the density ae the smoke hid cleared a bit, he leaned across and snatched up a pair ae denims and a Scotland fitba shirt oot ae the laundry basket that hid been sitting there and quickly slipped them oan, his teeth chattering violently in his gub.
“F…fuck it,” he cursed, cautiously stepping in tae the room proper, keeping his chest pressed hard against the wall, stretching his left erm oot across tae the door handle that lead through fae the kitchen tae the living room beyond. “C’mone,” he snarled tae himsel in frustration, as he quickly withdrew his erm back, cursing that he’d failed tae turn the bloody handle.
He cupped his hauns thegither and blew intae them before gieing them a good rub, trying tae get the circulation gaun. His fingers felt like lead. Taking a deep breath, he leaned forward, further this time. He gripped the handle fur a second time before his mind reminded him ae seeing wan ae the government adverts oan the telly when he’d been doon in Dumfries aboot opening doors tae a room wae a fire in it. Something aboot oxygen. In the advert, the place hid exploded and the fire hid engulfed the whole hoose when the door hid been yanked open. His heart wis poun
ding harder noo. He couldnae feel the doorknob in his haun. It wis noo or never.
“Naw, don’t be a silly basturt,” his brain kept screaming, as he felt the knob turning in his haun.
Chapter Nine
Senga pulled the car o’er tae the side ae the road and cursed under her breath. She peered through the windscreen. The sky wis painted a thunderous black and the same solitary evil-looking big crow that she’d clocked earlier, balancing oan tap ae the big boulder, wis still there, as if awaiting her return. It refused tae take its eyes aff her. It looked uncannily like the big wan that hid suddenly appeared oot ae the blue up oan the shed roof ae the crofthoose six weeks earlier, before disappearing as quickly as it appeared. This wis the second time that it hid appeared since then, the last time being a week or so earlier when she wis birthing Clodagh MacKenzie up in Clachtoll. She looked aboot miserably and shivered.
“A big black bird…aboot here?” Johnboy hid scoffed dismissively.
The junction wis deserted. Aw she needed wis the sound ae a bow, slowly being drawn across the bass string ae a cello and she wid’ve been in the opening scene ae a horror film. She’d come too far…again. The turn-aff wis only supposed tae be aboot a mile further oan, oan her left, efter she passed the end ae Loch Assynt oan her right. This hid been the third time she’d ended up back at Ledmore Junction. She glanced doon at the face ae the watch hinging fae her breast. Half past two. When she looked up, the big crow wis gone. She peered through the steamed-up windscreen and the passenger side windae. It wis nowhere tae be seen. She’d set aff fae Lochinver efter the mums’ clinic hid finished at wan thirty. She drummed her fingers oan the steering wheel, swithering whether tae jist call the home visits a day, bit remembered that she still hid three patients tae see, including Miss MacKenzie, the auld retired district nurse. Everywan kept asking if she’d been up tae visit her yet. The way people spoke, ye wid’ve thought it hid been auld Queen Victoria hersel that they wur referring tae.
“And you’ll have been to visit Miss MacKenzie then?” wis the usual opening line before the disappointed…or wis it sympathetic expression took the face ae the person asking the question hostage.
Even Dr Innes, the surgery’s wan and only doctor, wid ask her before anything else wis discussed between them in the mornings, efter his surgery appointments and before she wis sent back oot intae the wilds, in search ae the lost patients. She switched oan the wipers, as a sudden heavy squall ae rain drummed across the roof and windscreen ae Betsy, her wee blue Hillman Imp. Johnboy hid practically doubled up wae laughter efter she’d turned up tae the crofthoose wae it oan her first day oan the job.
“Whit the bloody hell is that supposed tae be?” he’d guffawed.
He’d taken the joy oot ae how she’d been feeling aw day by being let loose in her ain car, before he finally managed tae persuaded her tae take him fur a wee hurl roond Lochinver in it, despite it being pitch dark.
“Jist as well there isnae many cars up here, other than the odd tractor,” he’d drawled sarcastically, as she turned and slapped him oan the side ae the heid, efter he’d burst oot laughing again when she’d crunched the gears before stalling the engine oan their first maiden voyage as a couple, wae her behind the wheel.
Tae gie him his due though, he wis oot there gieing Betsy a hose doon, come rain, hail or sleet, every morning before she set aff. Despite the atrocious weather since they’d moved up north, she loved the people, the patients and the job. Admittedly, there wur a few wee complications. Fur a start, apart fae no being able tae get a TV signal, they couldnae get a phone line installed either. Johnboy hid been happy wae that. He hated them and hidnae used his when they lived in wan ae Tony Gucci’s flats in Otago Street, back in the toon. The problem wis the cost. The GPO hid seemingly refused tae run a line up tae the crofthoose, despite the health service agreeing tae contribute towards the work when Angelina MacLeod, wan ae her predecessors, lived wae her auld ma up at the crofthoose four or five years earlier. The other wee niggling issue wis that Doctor Innes hid made it crystal clear tae her oan her first morning, that he didnae attend hoose calls oan the Sabbath, except fur exceptional circumstances. Whit they exceptional circumstances wur, she still wisnae sure ae. Oan the second Sunday efter starting, she’d been called oot tae a home birth. The local postie, Davey Macdonald, who’d picked her up the first morning that she’d started oan the job, lived wae his wife and two weans in the first cottage oan the left, efter ye turned aff the main Lochinver road oan tae the Achmelvich road. He wis well pleased by their arrival. Seemingly, his wee quarterly stipend that he used tae get fae the health service hid been reintroduced whenever he hid tae drive up tae warn her that her presence wis required fur somewan who wis ill, efter hours. The distance fae their crofthoose doon tae Davey’s wis aboot two miles. Lochinver itsel wis a further two miles doon the road efter that. Oan the Sunday when he’d nipped up tae alert her, Johnboy hid been staunin there, bent o’er, wae that arse ae his bared tae the world, heating his cheeks in front ae the fire, when a face hid suddenly appeared at the windae. That hid been Johnboy’s first introduction tae another human since they’d moved in. While she’d been terribly affronted, Johnboy and Davey The Post hid thought it wis funny.
“Aye, Ah tripped backwards oan tae that arse ae mine, efter slipping oan ice intae the only puddle in the yard that wisnae frozen o’er,” he’d explained, as him and the postie chortled away while she’d dashed aff upstairs tae get intae her uniform.
If looks could’ve killed, he wid’ve been deid efter she’d arrived back in the living room as Johnboy wis jist topping the posties glass up wae his second large dram in the space ae a few minutes.
“Aye, right glad to meet you, laddie. I’m looking forward to delivering your mail, I am,” Davey The Post hid sang, winking, as Johnboy laughed while she’d ushered the hauf-cut postie oot the door, following his wee van doon the track in Betsy.
The birth itsel hid been straightforward enough…a wee eight and a hauf pound boy up oan the auld MacLeod Estate, named Cathel efter the father. Nora MacKenzie, the mother, hid left her sitting there haudin oan tae the wean while she put the blackened kettle oan tae the fire range and proceeded tae make them a cup ae tea within five minutes ae gieing birth. She thought some ae the Glesga lassies she’d birthed wur tough, bit some ae these Highland wummin wur straight oot ae another book aw thegither, so they wur. By the time she’d arrived hame, knackered, jist efter midnight, she’d gone straight tae her bed. When she’d goat up in the morning and heided oot the door, despite it still being dark, Betsy hid been staunin there waiting oan her, aw nice and shiny, the ootside light above the door reflecting aff her sparkling bonnet. She smiled tae hersel, remembering how she’d nipped back in tae the hoose and gied him a big kiss and a cuddle. He wis pretty good that way.
“Ach, ye’re the breadwinner…ye deserve it, so ye dae,” he’d said, shrugging. “Ah’m sure ye’ll dae the same fur me when Ah get a job as a pig slurry driver.”
She’d hid tae ask wan ae the local tenant crofters, Donald Donald, whit pig slurry wis, a few days later. He’d jist gied her a crooked smile, before asking her tae follow him. Behind the barn, he’d slid the lid aff ae a big square tank. When she’d arrived up at the croft, she’d wondered whit the ghastly smell hid been. Her throat hid actually gag reflexed before she’d dashed back tae the car, boaking, wae the taste ae the pig shit and the sound ae laughter following in her wake. The stuff hid literary made her eyes water. Despite moaning aboot hivving left the toon, Johnboy still hidnae lost any ae that sick sense ae humour ae his. She lifted up the crumpled map and spread it across the steering wheel. She found Ardvreck Castle and started tae slowly trace her finger back doon the A387 tae where she wis noo parked up. According tae the map, the turnaff tae Suillivan Cottage wis definitely aboot a mile back up the road towards Lochinver.
“What kept ye, lass?” Miss MacKenzie demanded tae know, as Senga popped her heid roond the living room door.
“Oh, er, Ah’m rig
ht sorry, Miss MacKenzie. Ah goat held up by a big black crow that’s been following me in ma tracks.”
“What?”
“Ah kept missing the turnaff despite hivving a map wae me. Noo that Ah’ve found ye, it shouldnae happen again,” Senga reassured her wae a smile.
“So, it’s true then?”
“Whit?”
“You…you’re from the south,” the patient replied, making south sound like a swear word. “What makes you think you’ll be able to cope in a Godforsaken place like Assynt?”
“Oh, despite the weather, Ah think the place is amazing, so Ah dae. Ah love it.”
“Do you now?” the auld bat harrumphed.
“Efter working in the city’s casualty department fur the past three years, full time, believe you me, anywhere’s better than that hell oan earth, so it is.”
“So, you’re here because you ran off when the going got tough? Is that it?”
“Oh, er, well, no exactly…”
“If it wasn’t here, it could’ve been somewhere else. I’ve seen all you young flighty birds come and go over the years. When the going gets tough, it’s off to somewhere less challenging.”
“Well, Ah widnae say…”
“And now we have another one. I know your type, lass. You can’t fool someone like me…oh no.”
“Well, oan that happy note, Miss MacKenzie, here’s yer next month’s supply ae insulin, alang wae dressings and a wee bottle ae saline solution,” Senga said pleasantly, feeling like strangling the auld bird, as she took the supplies oot ae her bag. “Wid ye mind if Ah hiv a look at yer skin where ye’re injecting yersel?”