Carrig Of Dromara

by Frances McCaughey

  “Yes, sir, I would be happy if you could do that and let me know the result.”

  One week later a letter arrived for Carrig. When he opened it the disclosures were not quite what he had expected. Apparently, the young farmer was in a lot of financial trouble and thought if he sold the farm quickly all his problems would suddenly disappear; but it wasn’t going to be as simple as that. ‘As you will understand, Carrig, I cannot divulge such confidential information,’ the solicitor wrote.

  Carrig, Louise, Andrew and Freddie met up on the following Saturday in the small café in the village. They were chatting ninety to the dozen, trying to catch up.

  “What’s it like living in the home, Carrig?” Louise asked casually.

  “Oh, well, it’s good most of the time. There’s a few things I’m not sure about yet, but, yeah, it’s great fun, and most of the boys are good sorts. I knew two of them from school even before I moved, so that was good.”

  “Do you have heaps of jobs to do?”

  “Not a lot. We set the table, collect the rubbish and help with the dirty washing. There is a rota system and each week we change to another job. Some of the kids have had a bad life though. One little guy – he never seems to talk much, but I can figure him out a little. He’s starting to open up now a bit. I asked him to come fishing with me the other weekend and he was close to telling me something, but he just couldn’t quite get it out. So I’m hoping eventually he will talk to me. In the meantime I’ll keep friends with him.”

  “We had a girl at our school,” Louise began, “and she was the same – just wouldn’t communicate with anyone. Then one day she dropped her lunch and I gave her half of mine. We became friends. It was very hard being her friend. Because she had spent so long in her own company, she didn’t seem to know how to laugh or be happy. So I made it my job to find funny stories to tell her. One day I was telling her one and she began to laugh even before the story was finished. She laughed and laughed so much I couldn’t get her to stop, and since then she has become a really good friend.”

  “What about you, Andrew? What have you been up to?”

  “Oh, nothin’ much. I play soccer and I belong to a gym club, which I really enjoy now. It was hard at first, but now I can cope with the parallel bars and most of the other exercises. We have competitions each month and I usually come in a respectable place. Last month I was fourth out of thirty-five entrants.”

  “Oh well, that deserves a choc whip!”

  Freddie treated everyone to a beautiful glass of chocolate whip and ice cream.

  “Gee, thanks, buddy.” Andrew clapped him on the back. “It’s great to have such good friends.”

  “Here! here!” Carrig spoke in a cheerful voice.

  It was Saturday again and the two boys meandered down towards the river and perched themselves up high on the large rock, which was their special place to sit and watch the fast-flowing river twist and turn around the river boulders with a swirling noise. They threw stones into the water, competing with one another to see who could throw the furthest. Carrig and wee Jimmy had come to this spot many times before, and Carrig patiently waited to hear Jimmy talk to him about what was worrying him.

  The boys had eaten the sweets which Elsie had slipped to them earlier that morning, when she left to pick up her bike on the way out.

  “See you both on Monday,” she had called after them.

  The boys walked for a mile or so along the riverbank, spotting birds and animals along the way, sometimes running, sometimes walking and sometimes chasing each other.

  Then Carrig suddenly realised it was twelve o’clock, so he said, “I’ll race you back.”

  The two started to run hard, but after a short way Jimmy stopped and bent over.

  “What’s the matter, Jimmy?”

  “Oh, it’s nothing – just a stitch, you know, or something.”

  Mrs Simpson was serving up the lunch when they arrived late.

  “Now make sure you boys wash your hands before coming to the table.”

  The two of them had a quick wash and sat in their places.

  Many nights Jimmy had maths tuition and returned late to the dorm. On one particular night Carrig hadn’t put his earplugs in, as he usually had, to avoid the snores of Albert, so when Jimmy crept in as usual about nine o’clock, and quickly changed into his pyjamas and slowly climbed into bed, Carrig, lying in the darkness, was waiting to hear again the sobbing of the other boy. Sure enough it began. After a while Carrig reached over to his friend and touched him gently, just to remind him that he was there for him no matter what.

  Once again Jimmy pushed Carrig’s hand away. “Leave me alone,” he said in a muffled tone.

  Once again Carrig knew he wasn’t ready to talk about his problem, and chose to leave it till another day.

  The following day Carrig rode over to Elsie’s place, and as luck would have it she was home.

  “Come on in, Carrig. I haven’t had time for a chat for ages. I’m glad to see you.”

  “Me too.”

  Carrig sat down at the table. Elsie looked hard at the boy. She knew him well enough now to sense that there was something on his mind.

  “Now what’s troubling you? What is it?”

  “Oh, I don’t know how to say this, but I think old Wrongo is mistreating Jimmy. I don’t know if he’s beating him with a stick or just with his fists, but I know there is something not right.”

  “It’s funny you should say that, but last week when I was taking the sheets off his bed for washing I found blood on his sheet. Now, I know that the boys who play games at school get cuts and bruises, from time to time, but Jimmy doesn’t play games at school – he goes to the library. I know because I go there quite often to find books to help me with my writing. I know Mr Wright was a schoolmaster before he came here, but I’ve never seen any evidence of his having beaten anyone. Carrig, can you arrange to be in the shower with Jimmy and check if there are any marks on his body where he might have been beaten.”

  “Yes, the showers are open, so I’ll have a look next time.”

  The year was moving on fast towards spring, and the weather had become milder. The daffodils and snowdrops were popping their heads up. The skies lightened and the sun felt somewhat warmer. The grass was sprouting in the fields and spring lambs were jumping in the meadows.

  Elsie and Carrig had now established that something strange was happening between Jimmy and Mr Wright, and one day, just as Carrig was about to give up on ever finding out what it was, the answer came flooding out. The two boys had been doing their usual thing at the river when Jimmy buried his head in his sleeve and began to cry. Carrig allowed him to cry for a while and then, moving towards his friend, held him in his arms.

  “It’s OK, Jimmy – we all have problems. You’re not alone there. Is it something that you can talk about?”

  Jimmy released a flood of angry words, and said, “I need to get away from this place.”

  The detective work continued between Carrig and Elsie, and as the days passed they both came to the same conclusion, that the young boy was being treated badly, but as yet they couldn’t put their finger on it.

  “Jimmy hasn’t got a mark on his body – that I could see, anyway. We were sporting about in the shower, throwing the soap at each other, so I was able to get a good look at him. There were no marks of any kind on his body.”

  “What exactly did he say to you when you were down by the river?”

  “He just cried, and cried hard, and said, ‘I need to get away from this place.’ He means old Wrongo, of course.”

  Elsie knew that it was definitely the old man who was at the centre of the problem.

  “Perhaps, Carrig, we should call the police. What do you think?”

  “Well, I know that he is a clever man, and I would say that he would be so nice to them that th
ey wouldn’t believe anything any of the boys told them. After all, he is an outstanding member of the community, and seems to be beyond reproach – a high-school teacher who loves children and always treats them well. No, no, absolutely not – we can’t call the police yet, but we will when the time is right.” Elsie couldn’t believe what Carrig said to her next: “I’m going to run away from this place as far as I can go.”

  Elsie looked at her friend as if he had suddenly gone mad. “What good will that do?”

  “Well, when I’ve gone the police will be called in, and then they will probably speak to everyone to try and find out where I’ve gone, and then Jimmy will have his chance to say exactly what is on his mind.”

  “Do you think that would work, Carrig?”

  “I know it will. We have to give it our best shot and hope the police can figure it out for themselves. Now, I’m going to need your help, Elsie. First of all I need to pack a bag with food and drink to last me a couple of days. I’ll pack it up and put it under my bed until I’m ready to go.”

  Elsie had been thinking that Carrig knew more than he was telling her, and maybe it was more serious then she had first thought. She had heard of the evil practices of certain schoolmasters, who prey on the innocence of young boys, apparently bribing them with promises of money and chocolate; the young boys then allow the men to perform acts of a sexual nature on them, apparently taking them into their confidence over a period of time and then using them for their own ends. ‘Could this be what’s happening?’ she wondered. Was this young man, whom she had grown to love like her own brother, about to do such a brave thing to stop this terrible crime? Her mind ran away with her, and then she knew that she would have to trust Carrig completely with his plan to stop what was going on. He had chosen Friday night as the night he would ride out through the gate, and away towards freedom. And hopefully if his plan worked he would save any further suffering for wee Jimmy and others like him in the future.

  Carrig consoled his wee friend at the river and told him his troubles were coming to an end.

  “How do you know that?” Jimmy asked Carrig.

  “I just know. You’ll have to trust me. Just carry on, and in a few hours your life will be happier, but this must be our secret – promise me.”

  Jimmy put his finger up to his lips. “Promise.” And the two headed towards the home and teatime. Jimmy skipped and walked with a lighter step again, trusting his friend. “You’re the best friend I ever had, Carrig. Will you be my brother?”

  “Yes, I am your brother, I am your brother.” Carrig lifted his hand and touched Jimmy on the shoulder. “If anything ever goes wrong again, just touch your left shoulder and ask for help, and see what happens.”

  They walked in silence back for tea.

  Carrig had told Elsie that he was going on Friday night, and although she was shocked by his sudden decision she was excited by it at the same time.

  “Remember that Mrs Wright will be in about a quarter past nine from her craft class, so you’ll have to be gone by that time. I will unlock the door to the garden at the back for you, before nine, and then lock it again after you’ve gone. She won’t notice the door open as she always goes straight up to her bedroom. She has a kitchen and bathroom in her suite and doesn’t have to go near the main kitchen at all.”

  Carrig really enjoyed his last meal with the boys. The fish and chips somehow tasted better than before. As Elsie served up the apple pie and ice cream, she wondered to herself how long it would be until he had a meal like that again.

  Elsie would worry about him until she heard from him again, although she never for one moment allowed her feelings to show. Giving him a little nudge on the shoulder, she placed the pie in front of him.

  Glancing in her direction, he winked at Elsie as he proceeded up the stairs, checking that the note for Jimmy was in his breast pocket. Lying in bed, he pulled the bedcovers high up to conceal his collar. Suddenly John and Albert came bounding into the dorm.

  “What’s up with you, Anderson?”

  “Oh, I’m so tired after sports and eating too much pie, I’m having an early night.”

  “Come on, tiger,” – Albert spoke to John – “I’ll beat you to the showers.”

  There was quietness once again, and Carrig made the most of the time he had left before ‘take-off’.

  During the following two hours the boys returned to the dorm and put on their dressing gowns to watch a movie in the sports room. It would be over by eight thirty or so, and if Jimmy was either watching the movie or having a maths lesson with Mr Wright then it would be near nine before he came back.

  It was eight forty when all three of them returned to the dorm. Carrig gave a sigh of relief to see that his wee friend didn’t have to endure any further pain. Touching his left shoulder, Jimmy whispered a thank you to his best friend in all the universe. Carrig was closely watching his wristwatch until the hands reached nine o’clock. The gentle snores of the boys were a good indicator that it was time to make a move. Feelings of apprehension and fear mingled with elation that the time had come at last after all the careful planning over the past weeks.

  Slowly pushing back the blankets on the bed, he took the note from his breast pocket and placed it under Jimmy’s pillow, where he would find it in the morning. Creeping along the wooden floor, pausing momentarily when a floorboard creaked under his weight, he descended the stairway and headed towards the garden door. Sure enough, the door opened easily for him, and he knew that Elsie would lock it after he had gone. Lacing up his boots and taking a long gasp of the fresh evening air, he smiled to himself. He was free at last.

  Moving swiftly across the yard, he strapped his pack firmly on his back. He found his bike and moved into the darker treed area beyond. The bike seemed hard to push, and on closer examination he discovered a flat tyre. There was only one thing he could do: make his way back to the bike shed and replaced his bike with Elsie’s. He knew she would understand and could quite easily travel home by bus.

  Now back on the main road again, he was feeling glad that he hadn’t travelled too far, before discovering the puncture. With one quick glance towards the home, he touched his shoulder again and thanked God for allowing him to carry on his journey towards freedom and help for his wee mate. He glanced at his watch, now showing nine thirty, when he stopped for a breather and a piece of Elsie’s chocolate. Feeling revived, he pedalled as fast as he could. It was great on the downhill stretch – he could move without pedalling for several miles.

  Feeling quite refreshed, he pedalled on towards the Waimakariri river, where he and his dad used to fish for hours. Remembering the words of his mother – “Never give up until the job is finished” – he pedalled hard until at last he could see the glistening water shining through the trees. The form of the Southern Alps could be seen on his right, and he knew that it wouldn’t be too long until he was on the main West Coast Road.

  He splashed his face in the cool water of the river – never in a million years had he thought that he would be doing that at five in the morning. Suddenly he felt quite tired, and knowing that he was close to the main West Coast Road he decided he would try to make it before daybreak. Once daybreak came, and especially after seven o’clock, he knew it would be important to keep off the main road.

  At last he reached the main road, and glancing over his right shoulder towards the mountains he remembered the times his mum and dad took him to the west coast on holidays. Turning his bike towards the city, he rode on for another half-mile or so, to where a right turn took him by an inland route across country. He was pleased that he’d remembered this road, which would give him the cover he needed to travel as far away as he could from Erindale. He then thought of the bell. Of course it would not ring until eight o’clock, as it always did on Saturday mornings, giving him another hour before he would have to hide from the road to avoid being spotted.

&nb
sp; Half an hour passed and he was still moving on when he saw what looked like a gateway into a field. He made his way through and a path led him towards a building which looked as if no one had lived there for a while. Thinking he might be able to rest here, he moved on and placed his bike against the wall of a shed. Just across from the shed stood a dilapidated old cottage, run-down with age. He knocked at the door.

  There was no reply, so Carrig pushed open a small gate into what looked like it was once a garden, but it hadn’t been touched for a long time. Thinking he might find something to eat here, he pulled back weeds two feet tall and there in front of his eyes was a row of carrots. The poor things couldn’t get any light to thrive, but he began to pull out the long weeds and before he knew it all the carrots needed was a drink of water.

  ‘Well,’ he thought to himself, ‘there must have been someone here who liked gardening.’

  He carried on and discovered rows of parsnips, leeks and potatoes. The boy was tired, but he felt a certain happiness from the work he had done. Pulling a carrot from the bed, he rinsed it under the tap coming out of the wall of the glasshouse. ‘A glasshouse!’ he sighed to himself.

  He pushed the door inwards with great effort, and he found last year’s tomato plants standing tall. The weeds were so easy to pull out, it only took him a few minutes to clear the glasshouse completely. He cleaned the windows with an old piece of rag he found and water from the tap, so now he could see through them and it made him feel good.

  The day was going to be a warm one, so he began to water his newly weeded vegetables, standing now in clearly distinguishable rows. He felt a sense of achievement and pride as he surveyed the scene before him.