Ledmore Junction

by Ian Todd

  “Oh, sorry. I’m PC Mackenzie,” he’d blurted oot, attempting tae get up and managing tae tangle himsel up in the prisoner’s standard issue blanket.

  “Aye, well, Ah widnae hing aboot. Ye’ve goat some grumpy visitors who’ve been driving aw night and ur choking fur a cup ae tea, so ye hiv,” she’d said, giggling, as she left him tae it.

  She wis sitting in the front passenger seat ae the car behind them, smoking. Every time she took a draw ae her fag, a wee wisp ae a smoke cloud wid suddenly appear oot ae the tap ae her windae before disappearing in the slipstream.

  “Ur you PC MacKenzie?” The superintendent hid demanded tae know, looking aboot the cramped reception area.

  “Er, yes, sir.”

  “Well get yer arse in gear and get the kettle oan. Ah’m Superintendent Bruce fae Strathclyde Polis.”

  As well as the beautiful looking maid, superintendent and sergeant, an aulder guy, obviously the photographer, wandered aboot, taking photos ae the cell he’d jist vacated.

  “So, ye wur expecting us then?”

  “Oh, yes sir. I wasn’t too sure when…”

  “Wance we hiv a cuppa, we’ll get back oan the road.”

  “Road? Road to where, sir?”

  “Tae Robert Hamilton’s hoose.”

  “Robert Hamilton?”

  “The Laird ae Lochinver?”

  “Oh, er, right, sir,” he’d replied, no sure if he should ask why.

  Efter that, nowan hid said a word. They’d aw jist sat, sipping their tea, keeping their thoughts tae themsels as the auld photographer stood at various angles, adjusting the lens oan his camera, taking pictures ae them. He wis dying tae ask the maid her name as she sat and gied him a wee warm smile, her white even teeth and mass ae red hair lighting up the room. Aw Inspector MacDonald hid said wis that there wis a famous journalist gonnae be present and that he wisnae tae gie the force a showing up. The two plain clothed polismen hid sat impatiently in their car, the sarge drumming his fingers oan the steering wheel, as the photographer and him hid waited ootside the front door ae the station, as she went tae ‘powder her nose,’ as she’d put it.

  “Sorry,” she’d apologised, smiling sweetly, as she skipped past him, the whiff ae blackcurrant and hyacinth that followed in her wake making him lightheided.

  It wis only wance she’d jumped intae the passenger seat ae the photographer’s car that he’d realised that her face hid a splash ae freckles scattered across her pale complexion. He’d hesitated, before reluctantly jumping intae the back ae the Cortina.

  “Right, which direction?” The Superintendent hid growled, as the sarge behind the wheel turned and looked at him.

  “Chust follow the road round to the bottom of the hill and turn left before the bend that goes round to the hotel. The estate is five miles further out of town.

  “It’s a long five miles, this,” The Sarge growled, glancing at him through the mirror.

  “You better slow down, sir. The turn off to the Inver Estate is chust coming up now,” he said, as the gears drapped and they swung intae the driveway, the sound ae gravel crunching in their ears.

  He looked oot the back windae again. The car behind kept up wae them through a cloud ae dust, as the big hoose came intae view at the end ae the tree-lined avenue.

  “Dae ye know if there will be anywan else in the hoose apart fae the family?” The Sarge turned and asked him, as the superintendent leaned forward in his seat and looked oot ae the windscreen at the big oak door as the maid’s car drew up beside theirs.

  “I’m not sure, sir. There’s a couple, Jamie and Mary MacKenzie. They look after the house and grounds. They live in a cottage down near the water,” he replied, pointing o’er the superintendent’s shoulder. “Er, what do you want me to do, sir?”

  “Come wae us,” The Sarge grunted, exiting the car, being photographed by the auld photographer.

  By the time he goat oot the same side as the superintendent, the maid wis staunin aff tae the side wae her hauns oan her hips, looking up at the granite building.

  “It’s stunning,” she said, shaking her heid, before looking aboot.

  He wanted tae go across and ask her if she wanted a guided tour doon tae the river bank, bit the sound ae the sarge’s fist thumping oan the front door, drew his attention back tae the business in haun.

  “Dae ye want me tae nip roond the back,” The Sarge asked his boss.

  “Naw. They’ll be in their bed at this time ae the morning. Gie them time,” he replied, jist as the sound ae a bolt being slid back oan the other side ae the door reached everywan’s ears.

  “Can I help you?” Robert Hamilton asked, tying the cord ae his silk dressing gown and blinking in surprise as the photographer started snapping away. “What the…”

  “Ur you Robert Hamilton?” The Superintendent wanted tae know, as a wummin’s face suddenly appeared o’er Hamilton’s left shoulder.

  “Er, yes…”

  “Ah’m Superintendent Arthur Bruce fae Strathclyde Polis’s Fraud Squad. Ah’m here tae inform ye, that ye’re noo under arrest oan suspicion ae embezzling yer employer, Strathclyde Polis, oot ae a substantial amount ae money,” The Superintendent droned, as The Sarge sprung intae life by pulling a set ae hauncuffs aff ae the waistband ae his troosers and started tae cuff the suspect, as his wife screamed, covering her mooth wae her hauns. “Anything ye say may be taken doon and used against ye in a court ae law.”

  “Daddy! Daddy!” the voices ae two young pyjama-clad lassies screamed, as they jumped oan The Sarge, trying tae wrestle their da away fae the polismen, as Slipper continued tae snap away.

  “Well?” The Superintendent asked, turning tae the PC, gieing him a dirty look.

  “Girls, please? It’s chust an enquiry,” he shouted, leaping forward, grabbing the lassies by the erms, as The Laird’s wife caught him wae a right hook, sending him flying back oan tae that arse ae his.

  “Robert!” the wife screamed, grabbing her man, as a tug-ae-war erupted between her and The Sarge and PC MacKenzie goat up aff ae that arse ae his and re-joined the melee, as Pearl stood back and casually lit up a fag.

  Chapter Seventy One

  “Ur you okay?” The maid asked him, pushing open the lavvy door, clutching a wee white first aid box under her erm.

  “Oh, er, I think so,” he replied, turning tae look at her.

  “Let me hiv a look,” she said, smiling, opening the box and placing it in the sink. “Ye’re gonnae hiv a bit ae a keeker, so ye ur.”

  “Do you think so?” he replied, turning back tae the mirror and hivving a swatch ae the running eye.

  “Here, let me see.”

  Despite being hauf blinded by the tears and the pain, as she gently dabbed his runny eye wae the soft cotton swab, he wis conscious ae her closeness, ae her face and body practically touching his in the confines ae the single toilet. Her face wis inches fae his, as he looked intae her green eyes wae that good wan ae his. Despite trying, he couldnae stoap his legs fae shaking.

  “Sorry,” she said, hauf smiling apologetically, as he winced.

  He wanted tae ask her the name ae the perfume that she wis wearing. He wanted tae ask her if she’d become his girlfriend…his wife even. He wanted tae ask her if she wid stay in Lochinver and be thegither wae him furever. He didnae want her tae go back tae Glesgie. He’d never been as close tae anywan as beautiful as her in aw his life. He felt sick in the pit ae his stomach. The only time he’d ever felt this way hid been when the nurse, Senga Jackson, hid sat across the table fae him in the interview room next door, when he’d first questioned her aboot the theft ae the typewriter fae the doctor’s surgery where his aunt Ishbel worked. Until noo, she’d been the maist beautiful maid he’d ever come across. He’d deliberately drawn oot the interview wae her, so he could hear her speak, tae make the moment last, until he’d messed it up and upset her by accusing her ae stealing the typewriter. He’d fallen in love wae her, despite her hostility towards him, bit this wis different. He really wis i
n love this time. Senga Jackson wis clearly in love wae somewan else. He knew that, jist by the way she’d defended her man. He remembered asking Johnboy if aw the maids in Glesgie wur as beautiful as Senga. He hidnae answered, bit hid jist lain back oan the grass and laughed. He now knew that they must be. He’d never been further south than Inverness, apart fae wan time when he’d spent six weeks at Tulliallan, the polis college, wae a compliment ae new Highland recruits. The maids there hidnae been anywhere near as beautiful as whit wis staunin in front ae him. He felt faint. The only other time he’d been south, wis when he’d taken the pledge tae uphold the law fur everywan oan behauf ae the Queen at Inverness HQ. He’d been jealous ae Johnboy…still wis, if he wis honest wae himsel, bit no in the same manner. Despite hivving pulled a gun oan him, he’d known that Johnboy hid only been fooling aboot. He’d said so himsel. He’d claimed that he’d been oan his way tae dispose ae the weapon when he’d come across him creeping up behind the crofthoose. He’d never said where it hid come fae, bit hid assured him that it hid never been fired in anger. Despite his aunty Ishbel hating Senga Jackson, he knew the nurse wis a kind person wae a good man. Everywan in the area he’d spoken tae, sang her praises and said she wis like a breath ae fresh air. It hid been the first time since his parents hid died aw they years ago, that he’d stood up tae his aunty. He wis glad he hid. Heckie MacLeod hid been gieing her a using fur years. Fur some unknown reason, she wis under his spell, as wur a lot ae other people in the area. It wis easy tae spot who they wur. The discussion wae Johnboy Taylor up behind the crofthoose hid opened his eyes. He knew it wid take time, maybe even years, bit as Johnboy hid pointed oot, there wis still time fur him tae make amends. When he’d been making his arrest ae the local men doon oan Vestey’s Bay, he’d been conscious that he wis being watched. It hid gied him the strength tae haud his ain, tae staun up tae The Laird’s men. As Johnboy hid said the next day, Flintlock McBean, Ewan MacKenzie and Findlay MacLeod hid witnessed fur themsels that he wisnae wan ae The Laird’s lackeys. His actions hid been the first step in restoring faith in him as a person and in the polis fur everywan in the community. The funny wee man, the photographer who she called Slipper, hid telt him that he wid become famous efter he’d goat some good shots ae him during the arrest ae The Laird. He looked at the journalist. It wis a pity she didnae know Johnboy. He wanted tae tell her aw aboot him, how he came fae Glesgie, like her. He still didnae know her name. He wis too shy tae ask her. Whit if she laughed at him? Whit if she could read his mind, he suddenly thought, feeling himsel blush as she stood back and looked at him.

  “Ah don’t think there’s much mair Ah kin dae. Here, take this,” she said, tearing the packet open and taking oot a clean swab. “Jist keep haudin this against yer eye until yer vision comes back.”

  “Ur ye right?” the wee photographer shouted, the smell ae the bacon that he’d gone back oot tae the boot ae their car fur, efter The Laird hid been locked up in the only cell in the station, reaching them.

  “Remember, Slipper, that basturt through there gets nothing. Where he’s gaun, he’ll be lucky tae get a sliced piece and dripping, the thieving basturt,” The Superintendent scowled, as the maist beautiful mermaid he’d ever come across looked at him and they baith smiled.

  Chapter Seventy Two

  Mr Hopkins suddenly disappeared fae the windaesill oan the other side ae the glass, seconds before she heard the chap oan the ootside door. She’d jist made up her mind tae let him in, efter he’d sat staring at her fur the past hour, daeing her heid in wae aw that meowing. She’d evicted him ten minutes efter Johnboy hid disappeared in the back ae Ewan MacKenzie’s auld rickety van tae heid tae the sheep sale across in Lairg.

  “Must go. We’ve tae pick up a cattle trailer fae Findlay’s oan the way past,” Johnboy hid said, gieing her a kiss before snatching up a slice ae toast.

  “Remember, it’s jist a couple ae sheep ye’re efter and no a herd ae whitever, Noah,” she’d reminded him as he laughed, picking up the cat and slinging it oan tae her chair, before Mr Hopkins could react as he dashed oot ae the room.

  “Surprise!” Pearl Campbell sang, staunin there wae her erms oot wide.

  “Pearl? Pearl!” she screamed, as they baith hugged and laughed. “Come in, come in.”

  Senga stood aside, as the cat shot passed them intae the living room.

  “Whit the hell ur ye daeing up here?”

  “His Johnboy no been telling ye whit’s been gaun oan? The Glesga polis arrested the local laird, Robert Hamilton, up at that big fancy hoose ae his earlier this morning, so they did. Me and Slipper, the paper’s photographer, wur invited alang fur the journey and tae capture the moment fur posterity. We goat some cracking shots ae him being huckled.”

  “Photographer? Where is he? Ah’ll go and invite him in.”

  “Naw, furget Slipper. He’s actually quite shy fur being a grumpy auld fly-man that’s been aboot since the dawn ae time. He’s jist dashed back tae the car oan the track. Says he wants tae take some photographs ae the biggest crow that he’s ever clapped eyes oan in his life, that’s sitting oan tap ae yer shed roof. Hiv ye seen it? Bloody massive, so it is. Says that he wants tae go fur a wee donder and he’ll meet me back at the car in an hour.”

  “Oh, sorry…dae ye want a cup ae tea or coffee…Ah’ll jist put the kettle oan.”

  “Naw, Ah’ve jist hid ma breakfast doon at the polis station,” Pearl replied, looking aboot the living room. “If ye’ve goat a wee cauld drink, that’ll dae.”

  “Christ, Pearl, Ah cannae believe it. Did Johnboy know ye wur coming up?”

  “Ah’m no sure. Ah know that he knew Hamilton wis getting clamped in irons this morning, bit Ah’m no sure if he’d hiv known aboot me.”

  “Oh, Pearl, hen, Ah’ve really missed ye…you and aw the lassies, so Ah hiv,” Senga cooed, as they hugged each other again, the baith ae them starting tae weep.

  “Ye’ve goat the place looking lovely,” Pearl acknowledged, hivving another wee swatch ae the room while taking a sip ae her Irn Bru.

  “Johnboy will be annoyed when he finds oot that ye’ve been and he’s no here tae see ye, so he will.”

  “Ach, he’s a big boy. Ah’m sure he’ll cope. How’s he daeing anyway? Is he still threatening tae write the next bestseller?”

  “No only his he started it, bit he’s jist aboot there,” she replied, pointing tae the folder sitting oan the shelf above the typewriter.

  “Really?”

  “Well, according tae whit he telt me the other day there, he’s only goat a few mair pages tae go and that’s the first draft done.”

  “God, Ah’ve always wanted tae write a book, so Ah hiv. Whit’s it aboot?”

  “He’s still claiming that it’s a love story.”

  “Still?” Pearl asked, as they baith laughed.

  “Aye…though, mind you, Ah’m no haudin ma breath. Every time somewan asks him whit it’s aboot, he tells them something different. The last Ah heard, it wis a sci-fi aboot a three-legged dug called Cyborg. Before that, it wis aboot the only honest politician who’d managed tae get elected in the history ae the toon. The list goes oan.”

  “His he no gied ye a wee peek?”

  “He made me promise no tae hiv a look…so Ah hivnae,” she replied, shrugging. “He said that he’d rather Ah wait until he’s finished it. Claims that the story changes aw the time and that he’d prefer me tae wait until he’s happy wae it.”

  “And you’ve stuck tae that, hiv ye?” she asked, an eyebrow raised, smiling.

  “Ach, ye know whit like. Anything tae keep him happy. He could be writing the longest shoapping list known tae man or beast, and Ah widnae be any ae the wiser. Mind you, the fact that he’s kept at it is enough fur me. Whenever Ah press him aboot the plot, he jist squirms and starts wangling his way oot ae gieing me a direct answer. Ah sometimes get the impression that he’s maybe a bit embarrassed aboot whitever it is or else he’s jist shy. Ah finally managed tae teach him how tae type though. Whit a palaver th
at wis. Ah goat that auld typewriter sitting there fae ma work. It hid been lying aboot in a cupboard gathering dust.”

  “Ye must admit though, Senga. Is it no amazing? Who wid’ve thought that wan ae The Mankys wid’ve wanted tae become a novelist? Christ, wonders will never cease, as that auld granny ae mine used tae say.”

  “Anyway, furget aw that. Ah want tae know everything that ye’ve been up tae since we left. How’s Kim Sui? She must be nearly due.”

  “She’s still goat a few weeks tae go, bit she’s jist the same, glowing like a goddess. Tony’s being getting oan tae her. She’s in DIRTY JAKE’S maist days, despite the size ae that bump ae hers.”

  “So, how long hiv we goat then?”

  “Ah need tae be doon the road by tea time. The arrest will be splashed across the front page the morra morning.”

  “Ur you driving?”

  “Naw…bit Ah’ve hid a few lessons recently though. Michelle says Ah’m aff ma heid. She says that Jake kin get me a driving license fae Swansea withoot gaun through ma test. She claims none ae The Mankys hiv sat their driving test.”

  “Aye, Johnboy being wan ae them. Ah wis aboot hivving kittens aw the way up the road, scared that if we goat stoapped by the polis he’d end up back in jail,” Senga remembered, as they baith laughed. “Look, before we get comfy, why don’t Ah grab a bottle ae wine fae the fridge and a couple ae glasses and we’ll take a walk across tae the cliffs above Vestey’s Bay? The views ur stunning, so they ur.”

  “Sounds good tae me. Ah see ye’ve still goat Mr Hopkins. Whit happened tae that face ae his?”

  “He goat intae a fight wae a big eagle, wid ye believe?” Senga replied, turning tae the cat as they heided fur the door, gieing him a wee whistle, as he jumped aff the windae sill and followed them ootside.

  “Paul!” Johnboy shouted across the beer tent while Flintlock wis ordering up the pints at the bar.

  “It’s busy,” Ewan said, looking aboot tae see if he recognised anywan.