The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter: The Glasgow Chronicles 3

by Ian Todd

  Insteid ae turning left at the junction jist before the River Carron Bridge, Packer heided alang tae the right. The scenery, wae the river coming towards them, took Paul’s breath away. Even though it wis drizzling doon wae rain, they spotted lone fishermen, staunin in the middle ae the river, every mile or so, decked oot in aw the best ae fishing clobber.

  “Aye, it would cost more than a year’s wages for a local man like one of us to be able to fish on the River Carron, Paul,” Packer sighed.

  “Is that right? Why is that, Packer?” Paul asked him, gieing a wee wave tae the fisherman who could afford a year’s wages, oot ae his side ae the vehicle as they drove past.

  “That’s just how it is. The big landowners, like The Duke, hire out parts of the river, a day at a time, to all these big business gents who come up from the cities. It’s all about money. The closest that local folk get to fishing is as spectators.”

  “Ye’d think the local landowners wid set aside a day or two a year, at least, fur the local people tae hiv a wee go, eh?”

  “I can guarantee ye won’t see anything like that happening in our lifetime,” Packer said, shifting up a gear as they cleared the trees and heided up the glen.

  “Christ, it’s pretty bleak, so it is,” Paul said, scanning fae left tae right across the horizon in front ae them.

  “Aye, it can look pretty grim on days when it’s raining or the sleet is coming down the glen,” Packer agreed.

  “It’s a wonder the people needed persuading tae shift oot ae here.”

  “Well, ye may think that, Paul, but you’ve got to remember the people who were cleared from here were all born and brought up in this glen. Although times were very tough, this is the only place they knew. There wasn’t the transport we have now in those days. The only people that passed through here were the sheep and cattle drovers heading to Inverness to sell the landowner’s stock. Can you imagine what it must have been like for the old people, mothers with children who were sick, fathers and grandfathers, to be dragged screaming out of their homes by a bunch of soldiers who proceeded to burn down their houses and then told to go away? I mean, where were they supposed to go? How many of them knew what was beyond the next strath, which was probably owned by the same landlord that was throwing them off their croft in this strath anyway?”

  “Innes and Whitey said that they wur marched tae the border ae the estate and then telt tae piss aff,” Paul mused, no being surprised tae see mair bleakness when they turned the next bend.

  “Although it was in the month of May when it happened to the Glencalvie folk, a lot of the old people and the really young bairns didn’t cope too well and died within a day or two of being sent packing in the rain. The ones who managed to make it to the coast had a better chance of survival. Up in Ullapool, one of the local ministers managed to hire a big boat to take people to Canada. Although a lot of them perished on route, a lot managed to make land and survived. For the ones left behind, they waited to be sent for. Can you imagine how they felt when years later they got word from those who went away, telling them to stay where they were as the land of milk and honey was just as sour and bitter-tasting as what they’d left behind?”

  “Is that it?” Paul asked, as Packer turned a bend and slowly made his way doon the sloping road towards a church, which wis surrounded by a drystane dyke, oan the left haun side ae the road. When Packer drew up at the wee entrance gate, Paul hesitated. He’d changed his mind aboot visiting the church and decided tae jist hing oan and go wae Packer tae drap aff the goat that wis sitting quite contented in the back, chewing oan an auld rope it hid found oan the flair. Packer read his mind.

  “Go on, Paul. I’ll only be about half an hour, at the most.”

  Paul looked aboot. There wisnae a soul tae be seen. He looked at Packer, hesitated and then opened his door and stepped oot.

  “Whit if the church is locked?”

  “It won’t be. Mind and have a look at the leaded glass windows,” Packer said, putting the van intae gear as Paul slammed the door shut and goat a ‘baa’ rebuke fae Billy in the back, fur disturbing his karma.

  Paul stood and watched Packer and Billy drive away before disappearing o’er the brow ae the hill. He took a deep breath and pushed open the wee squealing gate. Tae get tae the church, he hid tae walk doon a path between two drystane dykes and then go through another gate at the bottom tae get intae the churchyard. The place wis silent. There wisnae a bird tae be heard. The door intae the church wis straight in front ae him, bit Paul decided tae hiv a dawdle aroond the ootside first so he heided aff tae his right. The building wis surrounded by gravestanes. Some wur auld bit some were mair recent and hid flowers in front ae them. He went oot fae under the trees and across tae the far wall where he could get a good look at the building. He clocked the lead flashings oan the gable ends and the lead crisscrossing the windaes as he looked aboot. He reckoned The Mankys wid’ve hid this place stripped doon within twenty minutes ae arriving. Christ, imagine if they’d been wae him and they’d come across a place like this, he thought tae himsel and smiled. He moved closer tae the church and started tae peer at the windaes. Packer hidnae telt him whit windaes it wis that hid the scratches oan them. He arrived back at the front door, where he’d originally started oot fae, efter gaun aw the way roond the building. He wisnae too sure whit it wis he wis supposed tae be looking fur and decided tae bite the bullet and go inside. He reckoned he might be able tae track doon the scratches looking oot fae the inside. As he went through the inner door, aw the pews wur lined up, silently facing him. He looked tae his right. There wis an auld organ jist beside the steps up tae the pulpit. There wis nae way that anywan wid be able tae slip oot ae here un-noticed wance the service wis underway, he thought tae himsel. He clocked whit he wis efter as soon as he looked tae his left. He looked closer and could jist make oot the spidery scratches oan the wee diamond-shaped panes. He nipped back oot the front door and went roond tae the windae. He peered closer and wis able tae make oot the scrawls that looked as if they’d been done wae a needle.

  He read ‘Glencalvie people, the wicked generation,’ ‘Glencalvie people was in the church here May 24, 1845,’ ‘John Ross shepherd,’ ‘Glencalvie people was here.’

  He could also make oot a lassie’s name…‘Amy Ross.’

  Paul wondered whit hid become ae Amy and John Ross. He felt the hairs oan the back ae his neck staun oan end. He looked aboot. The rain wis still drizzling doon. He could picture the families milling aboot where he wis noo staunin, weans howling and the wummin aw screaming at the sojers who wur trying tae get them oot ae the churchyard. Fur some reason, it reminded him ae the scenes he’d witnessed regularly in the Toonheid, when he wis growing up back in Glesga. The Sheriff officers wid come mob-haunded, wae the polis as back up, tae sell aff a family’s furniture tae complete strangers during a warrant sale or tae evict them oot oan tae the street fur no being able tae pay their rent. His maw and da hid experienced a few warrant sales in their time, wae their furniture aw being sold aff, although they hidnae been evicted, as far as he could remember. He smiled when he thought aboot his pal, Johnboy Taylor’s maw, Helen, who wid get aw the local wummin tae turn up and take oan the Sheriff officers. She’d ended up in jail efter causing a riot up in John Street. There hid been aboot a dozen local wummin aw carted aff tae Central, the polis HQ, doon in the Saltmarket. It hid even made the papers, so it hid.

  He still couldnae hear any bird song, despite the fact that there wur trees roond aboot the church. He went back inside and climbed up the steps tae the pulpit. Innes hid telt him bitterly that the people who’d scratched their names oan the windaes hid hung aboot and kipped in the churchyard fur o’er a week. They never went intae the church itsel, bit insteid, sat oot in the rain, as a sign ae respect, no wanting tae enter the church uninvited. There hid been aboot eighty or ninety ae them. Who wur they referring tae when they’d scratched The Wicked Generation oan the glass, he wondered. How wid the local minister, the Reverend Macbean, hiv
explained this wan tae his flock the following Sunday fae the pulpit? Did they really believe that he wis representing God? Whit hid the congregation really thought ae the minister’s God when they shut their tired eyes in their beds at night oan the day the families wur driven away fae the churchyard? He stood looking doon at the empty pews, trying tae picture the expressions oan the upturned faces o’er a hunner and twenty years ago, as the minister spoke aboot respect, loving thy neighbour and God’s mercy, jist before he heided alang the strath tae the castle tae get his Sunday dinner. Paul went and sat oan wan ae the pews up at the back, the furthest away fae the pulpit. Although he widnae hiv admitted it tae Packer, he’d felt a wee bit wobbly when he’d first arrived in the churchyard. The place definitely hid a spookiness aboot it. Seeing the scratches oan the windaes hid brought it hame tae him that whit hid happened here hid been real enough and that although it hid been aw they years ago, it hid dawned oan him why Innes and Whitey still spoke and grieved aboot it. The songs oan the cart heiding tae the Highland Games wurnae jist any auld songs, bit songs fur people, long gone noo, bit no forgotten, who hidnae been strong enough tae staun up fur themsels and hid suffered fur it. Wid there hiv been a Helen Taylor back then? Who wis the wee wummin who’d been shot in the chest at point blank range by the sojer? Whit difference hid her death made? Hid anything really changed? The Evening Times in Glesga still hid pages advertising warrant sales every single night, so that the landlords always goat their money in the end. He wondered how many families in the Toonheid hid goat their furniture dumped oot oan tae the pavement by the landlords in the past week and telt tae clear aff and no come back. Paul began tae think aboot Glesga. Like himsel, two ae his pals, Tony Gucci and Joe McManus, wid be getting near tae their liberation dates fae whitever approved schools they wur in. Paul couldnae imagine whit it wid feel like tae be officially back in circulation oan Freedom Street. He hidnae heard whit hid happened tae the other two Mankys, Johnboy and Silent, although he expected they’d still hiv a bit tae go, seeing as they wur a year younger than Paul. He missed their company and the patter that went alang wae it. The deidline ae the seventh ae July, when he’d be fifteen and free at last tae get back tae Glesga, wis fast approaching. He’d need tae let Innes and Whitey know fur certain whit the score wis regarding his plans fur the future. He thought they’d be okay wae that, as he didnae think they saw him being at the croft oan a permanent basis. The social workers probably hid mair lost boys that they wanted placed up oan the croft wae them. He thought aboot Morven. He’d never hid a real girlfriend before and she wis a bit ae a stoater, even by Glesga standards. She seemed really keen oan him as well, which wis a bit ae a downer since where he wis gaun, she couldnae tag alang. He wid’ve liked tae hiv goat tae know her a lot better. As fur they Sellars? Paul decided that he’d keep well clear ae them. He’d be oan his way soon and he didnae want tae mess it up by hivving run-ins wae they pair ae bampots. He’d still been deep in thought, when he heard the van horn tooting. Packer hid arrived back. Paul took his time. He gied the inside ae the church a backward glance before shutting the door behind him.

  Oan the Monday, a broon envelope arrived fur Innes. It wis a court summons fur him tae attend Tain Sheriff Court oan the following Friday. Whitey read it oot while Innes filled his pipe.

  “Mr Innes MacKay, Wester Achnahanat Croft, Kincardine, is summoned to appear at Tain Sheriff Court on Friday the twenty seventh of June, nineteen hundred and sixty nine at nine thirty a.m. to answer the charge that he did on or about Tuesday, the nineteenth of January, nineteen hundred and sixty nine, remove a salmon and make off with the said salmon, with the intention of unlawfully stealing it from the River Shin, Lairg, Sutherland. The aforesaid Mr MacKay was also found to be in possession of a rowing boat and two oars, which were subsequently sequestered and are currently in the charge of Ross and Sutherland Constabulary, for the purpose of being submitted as evidence at the said trial, dated above.

  Failure to comply and attend the said court on the said date, without informing the said court, Tain Sheriff Court, an arrest warrant will be issued and the said Innes MacKay will be arrested.”

  “Och, I’m surprised it’s taken them so long. And here’s me thinking they had forgotten all about me,” Innes said, striking a match and haudin the flame tae the bowl ae his pipe.

  “In your dreams, Innes MacKay,” Whitey said, a worried cloud appearing in her eyes.

  “So, ye goat caught, Innes. Ye didnae let oan aboot that wan,” Paul said, laughing.

  “Aye, well. It was bound to happen someday, I suppose,” Innes mused, taking a puff.

  “Och, it was awfully embarrassing, seeing as he was charged by Swein McTavish, who’ll probably have to appear in court and give evidence against him,” Whitey said, shaking her heid.

  “Aye, whit is it they say aboot the polis? Always oan duty, day and night?” Paul retorted, remembering wae a shudder how PC Shiny Buttons hid sat where Paul wis noo sitting, drinking Innes’s good knocked-aff malt.

  “Swein is a fine man, Paul. He was only doing his job. He hadn’t any choice, seeing as George Sellar was present,” Whitey said disapprovingly tae Paul.

  Paul met up wae Morven at the Culrain Burn as planned. She wis pretty nervous tae start wae, bit settled doon wance she realised that the Sellars or their Irish wolfhounds wurnae aboot tae jump oot and maul them. She telt him aboot her life, growing up and gaun tae school, first in Culrain and then in Tain and aboot working at weekends and the school holidays up at the castle, the estate being the only real employment available in the area fur locals. She’d wanted tae go tae college tae be a vet’s assistant bit her registration teacher hid convinced her that this wis a waste ae a good brain. She wisnae sure whit she wanted tae dae noo, although she hid tae get her skates oan as she only hid jist o’er a year tae go before she wis sixteen. When she asked Paul aboot his background and whit his school and family life wur like, he skirted o’er maist ae whit he telt her, keeping it clean and decent as he didnae want tae put her aff ae him, even though he’d awready made up his mind that he wis heiding aff soon. He telt her that he hid an aulder sister called Kathleen, who wis married wae two wee snappers and a brother-in-law who wis a porter oan the railways and that his maw worked as a cleaner while his da drove a wagon fur Ushers, the brewery people. He could tell she wanted tae dig deeper, bit it wis obvious tae him that she’d sussed that whit she wis telt so far, wis aboot as much as she wis gonnae get oot ae him.

  “So, whit’s the score wae that boss pal ae yours then?”

  “Saba? Oh, she’s only recently come back from New York. She was living with her mother after her and The Duke split up. If you think The Duke’s bad, you should meet her mother. She’s got something to do with the Belgian royal family, I think. She’s got a look that would freeze a pond over. Saba was sent back to Culrain because she had some sort of wild party and some expensive paintings got ruined. She hates this place and is forever scheming on how she can escape down south to her grandmother’s, the old Dowager Duchess, who she thinks will be able to influence her father to send her back to New York.”

  “So, why dis she no jist jump oan a bus or a train the same as everywan else?”

  “She’s tried twice. The first time she walked down to Ardgay and caught the Inverness bus. George Sellar was waiting for her by the time it arrived in Tain. Someone must have spotted her. The second time, she got on the train at Ardgay and was picked up by The Duke’s man in Inverness, a police inspector by the name of Cotter. Anyone about here suspected of helping her wouldn’t work again locally and that would apply to their close family members too.”

  “So, Cotter caught her? I like that wan,” Paul said, smiling.

  “I can see why you would find it funny, but I feel sorry for her. Despite what you think, she’s actually a nice person.”

  “Dae ye no think aw this is totally oot ae order…the way these people don’t gie a shit and control everybody and everything they touch?”

  “Saba is d
ifferent, even though she can come across as grumpy. Her red hair gives her that temper you’ve mentioned. She doesn’t place value on the things her parents do. Take the estate for instance. The Duke owns land between here and John O’Groats, has vast amounts of tenants, but she isn’t interested in any of that. She gets embarrassed with pomp, ceremony and tradition. She loathes hunting and shooting.”

  “That’s because she kin afford no tae be interested, unlike a lot ae people aboot here.”

  “Anyway, tell me what’s happening up at Wester Achnahanat Croft and how the pup is.”

  “Wan-eye? Packer McKenzie drapped aff antibiotics fur him. Ah don’t know if it’s ma imagination, bit Ah kin see a difference in him awready. The swelling looks as if it’s gaun doon. Innes his said that seeing as Ah invested in the medication, he’s mine as long as Ah’m living oan the croft. He also said he’d teach me how tae train Wan-eye up tae be a working dug.”

  “A working dog? I wouldn’t have thought there was enough work for two dogs with the amount of sheep Innes and Whitey keep,” she said, with a knowing twinkle in her eye.

  “Aye, well, it’ll take a wee while before Tim goes intae retirement and as Ah’m new tae the teaching game, it’ll probably take a year or two as Ah’ll need tae get trained up first,” he’d replied unconvincingly.

  “So, you reckon you’ll be around for a couple of years then?”

  “Oh, er, who knows, and anyway, whit’s aw the questions fur? Come o’er here and gie me a kiss,” Paul said, quickly crawling across tae her as she jumped up, screeching wae laughter and started running through the burn in her bare feet, towards the trees.