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

by Ian Todd

  Sheila picked up the background reports fae St Ninian’s. They made uncomfortable reading. In fact, they wur wan ae the worst she’d come across, including during her years ae working wae juvenile offenders back in the city. He’d knocked oot a member ae staff, a priest, within a few days ae his arrival. He’d claimed at the time, that the priest hid tried tae sexually assault him. Whit hid been interesting wis that the school hidnae charged the twelve year auld Paul McBride wae assault, which wis unusual. It wis standard practice in detention institutions in Scotland tae charge anywan assaulting staff withoot exception. Insteid, the school hid conducted an internal investigation. There wis nothing in the file as tae the ootcome. Sheila and maist ae her colleagues in Glesga hid, of course, heard rumours aboot whit went oan in some ae the schools, especially those run by Catholic priests, although claims ae cruelty and sexual assault made by boys hid never been substantiated. He’d attempted tae abscond within a few days ae his arrival and within six weeks, being oan the run hid become the norm. The last time he’d been sent back, school staff hid become extremely concerned at his erratic behaviour and mood swings and hid hid tae physically restrain him oan a number ae occasions. This hid led tae further assaults and threatening behaviour towards staff. It hid only been when the other boys, inmates within the school, hid expressed similar concern, that the school hid requested psychiatric assistance. Efter an initial assessment, he’d been sent tae Lennox Castle Hospital, where it hid been established that he hid suffered an acute nervous breakdown as a result ae an incident when he wis eleven years auld, at which time a friend ae his hid been burned tae death in a fire. His physical state oan arrival at the hospital hid appalled even the maist hardened staff, who’d seen some sights o’er the years. As well as being acutely malnourished and dehydrated, his body hid been covered in welts, caused by whit the staff hid put doon tae being consistent wae being thrashed wae an electrical cable or something similar. The boy hid confirmed this by stating that the priests hid tortured him daily and thrashed him fur o’er a week, taking turns, using a length ae electrical wire. St Ninians hid claimed that McManus hid arrived back fae his latest stint ae being oan the run wae the injuries and hid produced a medical log ae their health responses, stating that McManus hid consistently refused tae accept medical attention which hid made if difficult tae gie him the treatment he clearly required. Efter assessment and wance the physical and mental health issues hid been identified and responded tae, Lennox Castle hid requested that the boy be returned back intae St Ninian’s care. No only hid St Ninian’s refused tae take him back, bit other approved school establishments, in other parts ae Scotland, hid refused tae accept him also. They’d hid enough ae their ain problems withoot adding tae them. That hid been when an ex-colleague ae Sheila’s, who wis based in the social work office dealing wae elderly patients, hid suggested tae the hospital management team tae contact her. Alice Cooper, who Sheila hid worked wae in Possil, hid been as appalled as everywan else at the state the boy wis in, baith physically and mentally. She’d spoken tae him oan a number ae occasions and hid been convinced that the boy she’d spoken tae, wisnae the wan highlighted in the appalling paperwork that hid followed him everywhere since the age ae eight. Although he wis aulder than maist other youngsters that Sheila’s team hid processed and placed, there wis jist something aboot the case that hid drawn her back tae the file that hid been sitting in the ‘Nae further action’ basket in the outer office. Perhaps it hid been due tae her disillusionment following her failure tae be as effective as she’d wished in Glesga, that hid made her decide tae heid south and assess Paul McBride wae a view tae a placement. She knew before she met him that she wis probably his last hope. If she couldnae or wisnae willing tae risk it…and there wis a risk…he’d probably be sectioned and spend the foreseeable future in secure mental institutions. Efter reading his reports and meeting him at the time, she’d been convinced that he widnae take kindly tae being locked up in an institution, knowing there wis nothing mentally wrang wae him. Sheila widnae hiv hesitated if she’d felt she couldnae help him, bit she knew within five minutes ae talking tae him that the reports ae his recidivism and violence highlighted wur circumstantial and that the boy himsel wis nae worse than many others that she’d dealt wae in Glesga and who, wae a bit ae support...and luck, could be supported tae lead a normal life. Where and who to place him wae? She’d mentioned her dilemma tae Anita Bendover and she hidnae hesitated.

  “Och, he’ll be for Whitey and Innes then,” she’d sung in that Tain accent ae hers.

  Sheila hid spoken tae Whitey regularly since the boy hid been placed wae her and Innes. Whitey hid said that Innes wis like a new man. It wis like he’d goat the son she’d never being able tae gie him. The last time she’d spoken tae Whitey, she’d said that baith hersel and Innes wur hoping that the boy wid decide tae stay beyond his fifteenth birthday.

  Sheila read McWhirter’s letter fur the third time. She couldnae ignore it, though it wis within her power and responsibility, no his, tae decide whit wis right fur the boy or no. She looked at the calendar. The boy wis coming up tae his fifteenth birthday. There wis nae way she wis gaun tae request a further assessment. She smelled a rat here. The confidential reports that hid been acquired by McWhirter suggested somewan well placed in authority wis interfering. She wid need tae remember tae get in touch wae a pal and auld colleague ae hers, Alison Crawford, who wis a senior social worker in Possilpark, tae alert her that somewan wis obviously accessing copies ae confidential documents fae the Toonheid office files. It widnae hiv surprised her if The Duke himsel wis behind this. Like maist people locally, she’d heard aboot the boxing match at the Ardgay Highland Games. Tom said the whole ae the Rotary Club hid been speaking aboot it and the hauf who’d no been there tae witness it, hid bleated that they wished they hid been. It wid’ve been a lot better aw-roond if the boy hidnae gotten involved and hid kept a low profile, bit whit wis done, wis done. She wisnae aware that entering the Ardgay boxing competition wis illegal. However, knocking two ae the local estate keepers oot wid’ve raised a few hackles in certain quarters…ae that she hid nae doubt. Unfortunately, the concerns and reservations as tae whether Whitey and Innes McKay wur fit tae look efter weans who wur in care, particularly noo that Innes hid been convicted, wur an issue that she couldnae ignore, particularly because McWhirter hid raised them. Sheila completed the section ae the form that wid deny Whitey and Innes fae getting other weans placed wae them efter McBride moved oan. She’d go up and explain the situation tae them wance the dust hid settled. She thought they’d be okay wae it. Efter aw, they wur noo well intae their sixties. It wis time tae gie them a rest and let them enjoy whit time they hid left. If the boy decided tae stay wae them…and Sheila hoped he wid…then fine. She closed the file and placed it in her oot tray. She wis glad Monday wis o’er wae.

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  “Right, listen up please,” The Duke said, briskly hauf running doon the stairs, looking aboot tae make sure that anywan who wisnae supposed tae be there wisnae lurking aboot in the shadows.

  “All present and correct, m’lord,” Riddrie said, as Isobel the cook, Nicol the auld valet, Bridie the scullery maid, Jeannie the parlour maid, Morag the chamber maid, John Sellar and his two boys, Cameron and George, stood lined up in front ae the vestibule at the front door.

  Bridie automatically held oot her hauns, fingernail sides up, ready fur inspection, before Isobel, the cook, swatted them doon.

  “Are you quite sure she’s not going to come waltzing through the door at any moment, Riddrie?” The Duke asked, peering o’er the shoulders ae those lined up at the glass doors behind them.

  “I believe Lady Saba has gone for a walk in Balblair Wood with the wench...er, her maid, m’lord.”

  “Right, you are all my most trusted servants. It is you that I depend on to ensure my stay here is one of happiness and joy and that my needs are always fulfilled,” The Duke started saying before Bridie broke his concentration by raising her hauns and c
lapping them enthusiastically, only tae get them swatted down by Isobel the cook, again.

  “Yes, quite,” The Duke said, before continuing. “As you are aware, it is my darling daughter’s fifteenth birthday on Monday the seventh of July. Despite her resistance being well-known within the house for any sort of celebration to be organised by myself, her loving and caring father, she is indeed going to receive a special celebratory surprise on that wonderful day.”

  This time aw the staff hid a smile oan their faces and wur allowed tae clap their hauns wae joy and appreciation.

  “Oh, bless you, m’lord,” Isobel exclaimed, clasping her hauns tae her neck in joy.

  “Now, you…and only you…will be entrusted with the details of the forthcoming event. Under no circumstances must my darling sweet daughter…God bless her…find out anything about this surprise. And on that happy note, I am delighted to inform you that the Duchess Bea will be arriving in Inverness on the overnight sleeper train this coming Monday…the very morning of my sweet daughter’s birthday,” The Duke exclaimed, as aw the smiles froze oan the faces ae those gathered. “The Duchess will join us to celebrate the event, before whisking Lady Saba off, after a few days rest, to Spain to meet The Duchess’s fiancé’s family in Madrid.”

  Chapter Twenty Eight

  Paul stood in amongst the trees, trying tae make up his mind whether tae go across and speak tae Morven. He felt a bit guilty aboot the way he’d spoken tae her when she’d turned up wae The Gardener’s Daughter. He’d been clocking her fur aboot ten minutes when the decision wis made fur him. He heard a loud bang coming fae behind him in the distance. He’d lived long enough in the strath tae recognise the sound ae a shotgun being discharged. He noticed that Morven wis looking behind and beyond where he wis staunin, in the direction ae where the bang hid come fae. Paul waited fur another bang. He couldnae remember ever hearing a single shot in the time he’d been in the strath. When nae follow-up came, he felt a sinking feeling in that stomach ae his. He took another quick glance o’er towards Morven, before turning and taking flight back through the trees, in the direction he’d come fae ten minutes earlier. He came across Whitey oan the road at the entrance tae the croft. Her face looked ashen and she wis wringing her hauns thegither.

  “It’s Innes. I’m worried about him. He left here about an hour ago. I heard a shotgun being discharged. Tim’s back, dripping blood all over the barn. He won’t let me near him.”

  “Aye, Ah heard it. Ye’ve nae idea where he went, Whitey?”

  “No, I just saw him disappear up at the top field with Tim. He never tells me where he’s off to…the old fool,” Whitey croaked, anguish in her voice.

  “Right, Ah’ll go and hiv a wee gander tae see where he is. Don’t ye worry, Whitey…everything will be okay. Ah’ll find oot where he is,” Paul promised, taking a run and leaping o’er the wall at the other side ae the road fae the croft entrance.

  Paul heided up tae the tap ae the field and scanned the area. If Innes wis oot snaring, he widnae be oot in the open. Paul knew he’d hiv tae make the right choice ae whit direction tae go in, as wance he wis oan his way, time wasted could be a matter ae life or death. He shot aff o’er tae the left towards Rhelonie Wood. He decided at this stage no tae shout oot Innes’s name. If Paul and Morven hid heard the shot fae Balblair Wood, then there wis a good chance somewan else wid’ve heard it and gone tae investigate. He didnae want tae bump intae the Sellars. When he manage tae get across the open ground safely, withoot anywan shouting or the sound ae dugs being let aff the leash, he heided doon tae the left, nearer tae the road, in order tae work his way up the hill alang the tree line. He wis sure if Innes hid been in Rhelonie Wood, then Tim wid’ve heided back tae the croft using the tree line, rather than risking whit he’d jist done by dashing across open ground. Innes wid’ve hid him well trained no tae dae something as stupid as that. He could see the rabbit paths zigzagging in and oot ae the trees. He stoapped tae listen. Other than the sound ae a cuckoo letting rip somewhere in the distance, there wisnae a sound, except the gentle rustling ae the leaves oan the trees tae his left. He moved aff, gathering up speed and before too long, he spotted whit he wis hoping tae find. There wis three tiny draps ae blood oan the leaves ae a fern that hid been stretching oot and upwards fae the cover ae the dense wood. He bent doon, heart thumping like a drum, tae hiv a wee gander when he noticed some mair droplets aboot eight feet further oan. It wis clear that this wis the way Tim hid heided oan his way hame. He reached the end ae the tree line before the hill ran up oan tae Cnoc a’ Bhaid-daraich proper. He turned left, still following the tree line and slowed doon tae a walking pace, keeping his eyes glued tae the rabbit paths in front ae him.

  “Innes! Innes! It’s me, it’s Paul,” he shouted as quietly as he could, stoapping and listening.

  Silence.

  Further oan he came across a couple ae snares that hid deid rabbits in them. Paul knew straight away that they wur Innes’s. His wur always a lot tidier and looked mair professional than Paul’s amateurish wans. He looked aboot. He wis sure he hidnae missed anything oan the way up the hill. Supressing the dread and panic he felt in his chest and brain, he moved oan. Aboot thirty feet further alang, he spotted a single speck ae blood oan a piece ae grass that wis bent o’er, blowing gently in the breeze. It wis back aff the rabbit path, under a tree. When Paul bent doon tae inspect it, he spotted the bloody weave ae where something hid parted the grass earlier through the canopy. Doubled up, he nipped intae the wood. He took his time, following the fresh path that either Tim or Innes hid created as they’d made their way through the long, lush grass. He also came across a lot mair blood. He wisnae a tracker or anything, bit it looked tae him as if Tim must’ve sat or lain doon tae lick his wounds there. There wis a wee flattened circle ae grass wae a pool ae blood the size ae a beer mat. Paul quickened his pace, following the fresh path until he came upon a wee opening in the trees, nae bigger than the size ae the croft hoose’s living room. Paul’s brain instantly tried tae picture whit must’ve happened. Tae his right, there wis a ragged circle where the blast hid came oot through the foliage ae fern. Tae his left, there wis a bigger gap where Innes hid fallen and disappeared intae the undergrowth. He could see wan ae Innes’s legs, wae his size ten boot oan the end ae it, sticking up and oot ae the ferns.

  “Innes, Innes, ur ye okay?” Paul shouted, panic in his voice, as he dashed forward, no relishing the responsibility ae finding Innes deid and hivving tae go back and tell Whitey.

  “Is that you, laddie?” Innes croaked weakly.

  Innes wis lying oan his back, smack in the middle ae a gorse bush. His face wis the colour ae peat ash and his bibbed overalls wur covered in blood fae his waist, aw the way doon his right leg.

  “Aw, fur Christ’s sake, Innes. Tell me ye’re okay,” Paul cried oot, pushing the hanging prickly strands ae the bush oot ae the way tae get better access tae him.

  “I’m fine, laddie. Just give me a hand to get out of this bush. I think I’m stuck,” he said, haudin oot his blood-covered hauns tae Paul.

  Paul quickly looked aboot. He hidnae hid time tae take gloves wae him. He’d need tae take Innes oot ae the bush the same route as he’d fallen intae it backwards.

  “Ah’m sorry, Innes. Ah don’t think there’s any other way tae dae this,” Paul said, staunin up.

  Paul took a few steps backwards and grabbed Innes by the boot ae his left leg…the wan that he’d clocked sticking out ae the bush when he’d first spotted him. Innes let oot a painful groan as Paul dislodged him fae the bush and dragged him oot intae the open patch ae ground.

  “Did Tim make it home?” Innes asked.

  “Aye,” Paul replied, wondering whit the fuck tae dae next, his mind gaun like the clappers.

  “Is he alright?”

  “Fur Christ’s sake, Innes. He made it hame! Whit happened? Where ur ye hurt?”

  “I think it’s my arse, or on my right cheek to be precise,” Innes said, matter-ae-factly, before letting oot a painfu
l groan.

  Paul looked doon. Innes wis as white as a ghost noo. It wis obvious he’d lost quite a bit ae blood. Paul wondered whether he should heid back tae the croft tae get help, which he reckoned wis aboot two miles away, or try and get Innes back hame himsel. Remembering that the Landy at the croft wis knackered and because Innes looked so bad, Paul decided he’d try tae carry him back.

  “Where’s my bag? Get my bag, Paul.”

  “Furget yer bloody bag. Innes. We need tae get ye back tae the croft. Ah’ll come back later fur it.”

  “No, I need the bag now. There’s a poachers’ retreat in there.”