by Patsy Whyte
John asked him for a drink. The man got up slowly and went over to a sideboard where he reached in and pulled out a half bottle of whisky. Then he picked up a tumbler from on top of the sideboard and poured out a drink and handed it to John. I asked John when we were leaving to go up to his house to see his wife.
"In a minute", he snapped.
He raised the small glass to his mouth and downed the whisky in one gulp. The taxi driver and the ill man watched him intently with serious looks on their faces and exchanged fleeting glances. Just then, John got up, saying he was going to the toilet, and left the room.
The taxi driver turned to me, and in a very low worried sounding voice, whispered, "What are you doing with him? Don't you understand? You could be in danger."
"What do you mean?", I said.
"He's a murderer. He's not long out the jail for killing a young girl about your age."
Oh my God, I thought, I've got to get out of here. A hush fell on the room as John returned from the toilet and sat down next to me. I felt terrified and stood up and walked to the living room door, making an excuse to leave.
"No, no wait", said John. "I said I'm taking you back to my wife. She'll look after you."
"Let the lassie go if she wants to", said the taxi driver.
John got up and tried to grab hold of me but the taxi driver jumped in quickly.
"Leave her alone!", he shouted.
John's face changed instantly. A fierce argument broke out which quickly turned into a fight. Suddenly, he produced a knife.
"Run! Run!", screamed the taxi driver.
As John lunged out wildly, stabbing the knife furiously into empty air, the taxi driver desperately held on to his coat to stop him getting to me. I bolted out the living room and into the hallway and dashed through the nearest door. By luck, it had a lock and key in it. I grabbed the key with shaking hands and turned it. The lock snapped shut. I backed away inch by inch from the locked door until the wall behind stopped me going any further. I began to pray.
But John wasn't finished with me yet. Somehow, he managed to force his way past the taxi driver. Now he was standing outside the room, screaming and spewing out filth and obscenities and stabbing at the door. The door buckled and shuddered and almost came off its hinges as he tried to burst it open.
All the time, the taxi driver was trying to stop him. I heard the sounds of fists hitting flesh and bone and the crash of bodies banging against the door. I was powerless to do anything as I struggled for breath and my heart thumped madly in my chest. No, no, don't let him come through the door, I begged God, the saints and everything that was holy.
Then everything fell silent and I knew the struggle outside the door was over. But was John still lurking in the hallway, waiting for me to open the door? After what seemed like an eternity, I heard the taxi driver's voice.
"It's OK. I've got that mad man out the house."
I was still too scared to open the door. The taxi driver persisted.
In a gentle reassuring tone, he repeated over and over, "He's gone now. He's gone. You're OK now."
There was barely enough strength left in me to turn the key and open the door. I was really happy to see the taxi driver who poured me a drink in the living room to calm my nerves. His arms were covered in deep scratches and smears of blood criss crossed his face. I knew how lucky I'd been. The taxi driver saved my life and it was only by the grace of God he was there at all. Someone was surely watching over me.
The ill man sat silently in his chair with a shocked expression on his face. It was all too much for him. I finished the drink and told the taxi driver I needed to get away as far as I could. He asked me if I had anywhere to stay and I said I was going to find a cheap hostel.
"You'll be lucky at this time of night", he pointed out. "Anyway, half these places are full of drunks. You don't want to go there. It's not safe."
So he suggested someone he knew might be able to put me up for the night. Her name was May. He offered to run me over to her place in his taxi. I had nowhere to go and since she was a female, I felt I would be safe enough. The one bedroom flat turned out to be clean and comfortable and May, a single mum with a little boy, struck me immediately as kind and down to earth. She said she was sorry for only being able to offer me the settee. But I was grateful for it.
May told me she was a prostitute and was expecting two clients shortly. I sat reading magazines on the settee while her son coloured colouring books on the floor. He was a quiet content little soul. The doorbell rang and May invited her clients into the hallway. I heard them haggling over the price. Two young Chinese men walked through with her to the bedroom. A short while later, there was an argument. May was refusing to have sex with them unless they wore a condom. They didn't seem happy about that.
"Take it or leave it", I heard her say.
She gave them no choice in the matter. I picked up a magazine again and started reading but was interrupted when one of the Chinese men came through to the living room. He complained bitterly he was being treated unfairly. When I told him it had nothing to do with me, he sat down quietly on a chair and waited for his friend. May appeared soon after and the two clients left.
"You can make really good money at this game", said May, holding a hot cup of tea in her hand.
"Yes, I'm sure you can", I replied, suspicious of where the conversation was now going.
"You'd have a home here. You're young. Someone like you could do really well", she added.
I told her I could never bring myself to do anything like that. May looked disappointed. She became annoyed.
"Then you can't stay here. You have to earn your keep."
She didn't seem to realise I had no intentions of staying anyway. I was going in the morning, first thing. As I was getting ready to sleep on the settee, I realised my suitcase was still in the flat where I had my lucky escape. I dreaded the prospect of going back there, but I had no choice. It contained all I had in the world.
When I knocked on the door in the morning, I was surprised to hear the sounds of children laughing and shouting coming from inside the flat. A young boy with blonde hair opened the door. He called through to his dad that there was somebody to see him. The ill man appeared and looked a little taken aback to see me so soon again. I explained about leaving the case behind and he invited me inside. The children were running wild in the bedrooms so he shouted at them to stop making a racket.
I felt agitated the moment I sat down on the easy chair. A strange feeling came over me and as he spoke, his words began to fade and trail off into the distance. A picture, a vision in full colour, suddenly filled my mind, pulling me in. In front of me stood a young slim woman poised at the edge of a loch. No one will miss me, she cried out, over and over again, staring into the deep dark water. I felt powerless to help her, transfixed, unable to move as she threw herself in and disappeared beneath the murky depths. Suddenly, the vision was gone and I was back in the living room once more.
"Have you heard anything I've said?", said the ill man, looking at me a little perplexed.
I couldn't answer him. My mind was still full of the raw emotions from the young woman. They were etched into my soul, making me want to run to the nearest loch myself and jump in. It was taking every ounce of willpower I possessed to resist the urge. My thoughts and her thoughts had somehow become locked together and I was battling to free myself.
It was then I realised the woman in the vision was the wife of the ill man. She had lost all reason and killed herself and left her husband to bring up their five children. I knew I had to get away. So I made an excuse I was feeling ill and grabbed my suitcase and left.
* * *
A short while later, I stood watching the buses pull in and out of the bus station. They arrived and departed every minute or two, carrying people to destinations and places far better than where I stood now. It wouldn't be long before the Aberdeen bus was here. I couldn't wait to leave Dundee.
Dundee had been a di
saster almost from the word go. There was nothing I would miss about the place. But my future still looked bleak and uncertain. I spent the last of my money on a ticket and now I was penniless and alone, without a friend or a job or a home. I couldn't sink much lower. I lifted up my eyes towards the sky where the sun was trying to break through dark clouds. What would tomorrow bring? There was no answer. I shuddered with the cold.
Epilogue
How the decades have flown by. The 16-year-old girl of long ago has all but vanished. Yet, I still see her, occasionally, walking alone and homeless but with a spirit refusing to bow down or give up.
She was lucky to survive. God forbid, if she hadn't, then I wouldn't be here many years later, writing about the hard lonely road she walked down. The trials and tribulations, more than enough to fill another book, continued long after Dundee was just a distant memory.
Eights years, two marriages and five children later, she finally found the home she was looking for. She shares it with John, her partner for 30 years. And with the happy ending came greater understanding and the realisation she was never truly alone, even in the darkest of moments.
A power, a force, call it what you will, walked with her, unseen most of the time. Now and again it showed itself in the form of visions or help and guidance. Otherwise, would the taxi driver have been there to save her? I don't think so.
Writing about my experiences was probably one of the hardest things I've ever had to do in my life. I didn't want to remember them. They lay buried inside me for years. Yet, I knew one day I'd have to put pen to paper and share my experiences with others.
I'm glad I did. For if just one person going through a dark period in their life feels inspired to keep on going, then it's been well worth it. The bad times really do come to an end, sooner or later. I am living proof of that.
I've neglected everyone and everything writing this book and I'm really sorry. But it couldn't be helped. Once started, I had to finish it. I don't think I had a choice in the matter.
The young girl of long ago cried out once more to be heard and I couldn't turn my back and just ignore her and walk away, like so many did in the past.
The road is still there, full of ups and downs. But she no longer walks down it alone for which I am truly thankful.
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