Black Cairn Point

by Claire McFall

  ‘Are you in the AA or the RAC?’ Martin asked, leaning forward.

  ‘No.’ Darren turned the key back, waited several seconds, then twisted hard. After just a moment of protest, the engine roared into life. ‘Yes!’

  Throwing the car into gear, Darren backed out of the space and navigated his way out of the car park. With the extra weight we were carrying, the car was riding low on its axles and I felt every bump and rut in the tarmac.

  ‘Darren, is this thing likely to die on us when we’re in the middle of nowhere with no mobile phone reception?’ Martin asked quietly as we accelerated back onto the M77 motorway.

  ‘Have a little faith,’ Darren replied. ‘She’s never let me down before.’ He patted the Volvo symbol nestled in the heart of the steering wheel.

  ‘Yes, it has,’ Emma piped up. ‘Didn’t you have to call your dad last month to give you a tow back from the gym?’

  ‘Apart from that one tiny incident, she’s never let me down before,’ Darren corrected. ‘Shut up!’ he snapped good-naturedly at the titter of amusement that rumbled across the back seat. He gave us a one-fingered salute before fiddling with the settings on his top-of-the-range stereo, its shiny buttons and flashing digital display incongruous in the ugly plastic dash of the ancient car.

  ‘Right, Martin,’ Darren called suddenly. I felt Martin stiffen beside me before fumbling to react to the small missile being hurled towards him over Darren’s shoulder. He caught it – just – and I realised it was an iPod. ‘Your turn to choose the music,’ Darren told him.

  Martin shot him a surprised look before offering half a smile.

  ‘Cheers,’ he said, and a minute later the strains of John Mayer filled the car.

  ‘Good choice,’ Darren muttered before spinning the volume up high.

  We drove along without talking, listening to the music and watching the scenery race by. Under the noise from the stereo, the car engine screamed as Darren pushed it faster and faster, showing off to Emma who was giggling and shrieking in the passenger seat. I was relieved that I couldn’t see the dials on the dash, didn’t know exactly how fast we were going; Darren was passing other cars as if they were standing still. I wasn’t about to complain, though. I was desperate to get there and stretch my legs, rub at the bruises from where the sharp edges of the boxes of booze were digging into me.

  I shut my eyes and leaned my head back. Both boys had opened their windows, allowing a cooling breeze to whip across the tight space, pulling strands of my hair free of the plait I’d constructed and making them dance around my face. It was nice, relaxing. I smiled to myself, letting my shoulders slump down, forgetting, momentarily, that I was leaning back on Dougie’s arm. My life over the past few months had been madness. If my eyes were open, they’d been stuck in a book, going over notes, watching my hand scrawl out answer after answer. But now the exams were done and it was the first week of July: six weeks of holidays stretched out before me. In theory I still had another year to do at school but I had a tenuous agreement with my mum that, if I got the results I needed, I could skip sixth year and go to university at the end of summer. I wasn’t seventeen until September so she told me I’d have to stay at home, for the first year at least, but I’d be a university student.

  Better yet, Dougie had a conditional offer from the same place, the same course in Archaeology. That hadn’t been why I’d chosen it – digging into the past, seeing the way people lived, the things they believed in, had fascinated me since I was a child – but it was a definite plus. Dougie. Unconsciously, my smile edged a little wider. I’d had a thing for him for a while now. We’d always known each other, had been in the same class ever since primary school. But Dougie and I had never really been friends. Not until the last few months, since Emma had taken a fancy to Darren and disappeared, leaving a gaping hole in my life that Dougie had stepped in to fill. I owed her for that. Now we saw each other almost every day. More, even, than Dougie saw Martin. We had so much in common. Kindred souls, he said.

  But friends, only friends. Unfortunately.

  ‘Heather.’ His voice whispered in my ear, taking me by surprise. I jumped a little, but I didn’t open my eyes.

  ‘Mmm?’

  ‘You’re kind of making my arm go to sleep.’

  Oh God.

  Embarrassed, I yanked my head forward so fast I almost gave myself whiplash.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ I muttered as he tried to rub life back into his limb.

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ He grinned at me, but the blush refused to fade from my cheeks.

  ‘You should have said …’

  He shrugged.

  ‘You looked comfortable. Well –’ He glanced down at the collection of stuff packed around me – ‘as comfortable as you’re going to get.’

  ‘Right.’ I gave him a timid smile. He was still grinning at me. My face flushed flame red once again as I tried to think of something to say. Something intelligent. Nothing came. ‘So … where are we going again?’

  He wriggled his eyebrows. ‘Black Cairn Point.’ He hissed the words at me, low and menacing. Despite the humour in his eyes I felt a little thrill roll down my spine.

  ‘Sounds creepy!’ Emma purred from the front. ‘Like the sort of place serial killers go to dispose of the bodies!’

  Dougie ripped his gaze from mine, releasing me.

  ‘Well, it’s named after a graveyard, sort of,’ he told her.

  ‘What?’ Emma blinked at him, looking horrified.

  ‘A cairn’s a burial monument,’ Martin explained from over my other shoulder.

  ‘Darren, you’re not taking us all out there to do away with us, are you?’ I asked, addressing the eyes that were watching our exchange via the rear-view mirror. Dougie snorted quietly beside me and I grinned. ‘Because –’

  But at that moment the music cut off, silencing me.

  ‘Hey!’ Emma complained, reaching for the buttons. She pressed several randomly, but nothing came out of the speakers, not even crackle.

  ‘The light’s gone out,’ said Dougie. ‘Has the fuse blown?’

  ‘Better not have,’ Darren replied, knocking Emma’s hand away and taking over the fiddling, but with no more success. ‘The damned thing’s new.’

  ‘Darren, watch the road!’ Martin yelped. Darren turned his attention back to the motorway just in time to swerve out from behind the lorry he’d been about to climb over the back of.

  ‘Christ, sorry!’ he huffed.

  He pressed down on the accelerator to take him past the truck and I watched as we cruised along beside the advert, a child’s face covered in yoghurt laughing happily in at me. It drifted out of sight as Darren sped on, but then started to coast back into view until the lorry was undertaking us.

  ‘What the hell?’ Darren hissed.

  ‘What is it, what’s wrong?’ Dougie leaned forward, peering around me.

  ‘I don’t know … the dials have all died. I’ve got no power.’ Darren was still kicking at the accelerator, but nothing was happening.

  ‘Darren, we’re in the fast lane,’ Martin reminded him, urgency in his voice.

  ‘I know!’ Darren snapped.

  ‘Get into the slow lane,’ Dougie ordered. ‘Look, there’s a slip road coming up. See if you can coast down it. That’ll get us off the motorway at any rate.’

  Darren did as he suggested and the Volvo rolled slowly down the exit until we reached a junction for a much quieter road where the gradient started to tilt up. Eventually gravity called a halt to our progress. Darren did his best to force the car onto the dirt hard shoulder, out of the way of any passing traffic. We sat for a minute, no one speaking, before Darren elbowed open the door and stomped around to the front. A moment later he’d thrown up the bonnet, hiding his glowering face from us.

  ‘Shit,’ Dougie sighed and got out. I watched him jog round to join Darren.

  ‘You’re not in the RAC, are you, Martin?’ I asked quietly.

  He laughed.

 
‘Not much point when I don’t have a car, is there? Come on, no sense baking in here.’

  He stepped out onto the hard, compacted mud on the roadside, offering me his hand so that I could slide along, navigating the obstacle course that was the back seat. Though it wasn’t any cooler outside, standing in the direct path of the sun, the air felt fresher, kept moving by a gentle breeze, and I was able to stretch out the kinks in my muscles.

  ‘How’s it going?’ We moseyed round to join Darren and Dougie, who were standing motionless, staring into the inner workings of the machine. Neither of them answered me, which I took to be a bad sign.

  Gathered around the engine, I followed the boys’ gaze, not quite sure what I was looking at. Under the bonnet was a mass of pipes and oddly shaped boxes. The whole thing was covered in grime, metallic surfaces glittering with coppery rust.

  ‘Try starting it,’ Dougie offered.

  Darren gave him a sidelong look, as if it was clearly pointless, but he got behind the wheel again and obligingly turned the key.

  Nothing happened. No coughing, no spluttering, no clicking. The engine stayed inert.

  ‘Battery,’ said Martin. He stuffed his hands in his pockets and scuffed at the loose stones around his feet.

  ‘What?’ Darren asked, curling his body back out of the car.

  ‘The battery’s flat,’ Martin repeated.

  ‘How can it be? If the battery was flat, the car would never have started in Kilmarnock.’

  ‘It still had charge then. Your alternator’s knackered. It hasn’t been charging. Happens all the time with this type of car.’ He kicked at the ancient Volvo’s dented bumper. ‘The brushes get clogged and they don’t spin right.’

  We all gaped at him. Martin, with his wiry frame and specs, was more pocket protector and calculator than spanner and automobiles.

  ‘What?’ he said defensively, seeing the way we were all looking at him. ‘I can’t know about cars?’

  ‘So what do we do, then?’ Darren asked, staring at Martin with newfound respect. Martin smiled wryly at the change.

  ‘Give the alternator –’ Catching our confused expressions, he pointed at a silvery cylinder near the front of the machinery – ‘give that a bang to clear the brushes, then we just need a jump start. After that we should be good.’

  ‘And have you got a hammer?’ Darren asked dryly.

  Martin nodded.

  ‘Got a rubber one in the boot for putting in tent pegs. Give me the keys and I’ll grab it.’

  I followed Martin to the rear of the car.

  ‘How the hell did you know all that?’ I whispered.

  He winked at me conspiratorially.

  ‘My cousin’s a mechanic. He used to babysit me. Spent most of my time in his garage handing him screwdrivers. Don’t ask me to actually do anything, though …’

  I laughed.

  A minute later Martin had unearthed his rubber mallet and Darren had given the alternator a couple of good whacks, after fixing Martin with a searching look to make sure he was serious.

  ‘Now we just need someone to give us a jump,’ Dougie said, rubbing his hands together.

  The four of us looked both ways up the road. Nothing was coming. We waited in silence as a minute trickled past. Then another.

  ‘Come on!’ exploded Darren. ‘This road’s five foot from the motorway! How can there be no traffic?’

  ‘Guess no one lives out this way,’ I offered. Looking around, there were only a few houses dotted in the rugged landscape.

  ‘What’s that?’ Dougie asked, pointing to a faded green building down the road in the distance.

  ‘Workshop or something,’ Martin replied.

  ‘Well, there’re cars parked there. Maybe someone will help us?’

  We all looked at each other.

  ‘Who’s asking?’ Darren said finally.

  Martin chipped in at once. ‘It’s your car.’

  I thought he had a good point but Darren’s eyes narrowed.

  ‘Yeah, and if it wasn’t for me we wouldn’t be going further than the back garden,’ he shot back. ‘And we wouldn’t have anything to drink, either.’

  ‘What do you think they do in there?’ Dougie asked, shading his eyes so he could peer at the building. I followed his gaze. I couldn’t see a sign or anything written on the side to give it away.

  ‘Probably welding or something,’ Martin offered. ‘Something industrial.’

  ‘So it’ll be almost all men …’ Darren said slowly.

  ‘Yeah.’

  His face brightened.

  ‘Well, that settles it, then,’ he said, slamming down the bonnet. ‘We send the girls. They can charm them for us.’ He winked at me, ignoring the curdled expression on my face.

  The worst thing was that the other two boys seemed to be in complete agreement with him, although Martin was somewhat sheepish about it, refusing to look me in the eye. Outnumbered and outvoted, I huffed and puffed as I dragged Emma out of the passenger seat and we traipsed off towards the small warehouse.

  ‘Remember – be alluring!’ Darren called to our departing backs.

  CHAPTER THREE

  We walked along the narrow hard shoulder of the road without talking, only the quiet slapping of Emma’s flip-flops breaking the silence. I could feel the gazes of the three boys burning into my back along with the sun and I folded my arms across my chest, cross.

  ‘I can’t believe we’re doing this,’ I complained. ‘Your boyfriend’s an arse!’

  Emma didn’t respond, which I took to mean she agreed with me.

  We didn’t spot a sign until we were almost on top of the place. I was relieved to see it looked fairly professional, announcing the place to be a metalworking shop run by J. P. Robertson and Sons. The driveway hadn’t been tarmacked, though. It was just a dirt road running a hundred metres to a large circular parking area where several vehicles – mostly small vans – had been abandoned haphazardly.

  We had a quick look around the outside, hoping there would be a lone friendly soul lurking about so we wouldn’t have to go in, but there was no sign of life. Gritting my teeth, I headed for the small door to the right of the huge warehouse roll-top shutter, which was firmly closed.

  ‘You talk,’ I said to Emma as we hesitated on the threshold. ‘You’re the pretty one. And he’s your boyfriend,’ I added as she opened her mouth to argue.

  I had her with that one. She pursed her lips but stalked through the door when I held it open for her. She didn’t go very far, though, grinding to a halt just inside. I almost walked into the back of her, barely stopping myself in time before squeezing past so I stood alongside her. We glanced around, feeling a little stupid. The room was big, partitioned by giant machinery. Here and there I caught movement, the backs of shoulders as men bent to their work. The noise was incredible, like I’d stuck my head inside a vibrating drum. I couldn’t hear myself think.

  No one seemed to notice us. I looked to Emma, who stared back at me uncertainly. Should we just wander about? It didn’t seem safe. Everywhere the walls were dotted with hazard and warning signs.

  ‘Can I help you?’ The words were hollered from our right. I turned my head and saw a girl, maybe eighteen or so, dressed in oil-smeared overalls, short dark hair slicked back, looking at us questioningly. She waved us into a small glass cubicle, which I guessed served as an office, and shut the door. The noise of the machinery was immediately halved. I sighed in relief.

  ‘Can I help you?’ she repeated.

  There was a short pause whilst I waited for Emma to take the lead. She didn’t.

  ‘We’re looking for a jump,’ I explained. ‘Our car’s just died up on the road. Something to do with the alternator?’ I gave a brief smile and spread my arms helplessly, thinking she’d empathise with my distinct lack of mechanical know-how. Instead she frowned, thinking.

  ‘Clogged brushes?’

  ‘Eh, yeah. Think so.’

  ‘You’ll need a hammer.’ She moved across to t
he opposite wall and started to rake through a drawer.

  ‘We’ve done that,’ I said hurriedly. ‘We just need the jump.’

  ‘Okay.’ She smiled at us. ‘I’ve got a charged jump battery in my boot.’

  ‘You just keep this in here?’ I asked moments later as we watched her dig a plastic box about the size of a shoebox out of the back of a battered Ford Fiesta.

  ‘Yeah, my dad didn’t want me driving around out here without one. Mobile signal’s not very good if you get stuck.’ She stood up. ‘Where’s your car?’

  I pointed with my fingers to where the Volvo was just visible, glinting in the distance. I couldn’t see the three boys but guessed they’d taken refuge inside the car.

  ‘Hop in then.’

  I grinned to myself as we drove back in her car, imagining Darren’s face when I arrived with my heroine. She wasn’t exactly what I’d been sent for.

  ‘Where are you heading off to?’ she asked, her low voice almost masked by the rumble and rattle of the Fiesta.

  ‘Camping,’ I offered. ‘There’s a beach down near Stranraer, nice and quiet. Black Cairn Point?’

  ‘Oh right.’ She smiled at me. ‘Hope your alternator doesn’t die again down there!’

  I smiled back, but my stomach dropped. What would we do if the damned car died again? The girl caught the thought on my face.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ she said, pulling over just in front of Darren’s car and flinging her door open. ‘You’re never too far away from someone around here. You’ll just be in for a bit of a hike. Hi!’ She waved a cheery welcome to Darren, who was sidling out of the driver’s side, watching our approach. I saw his face crumple a bit – he’d obviously expected us to come back with a man – but his eyes zeroed in on the bulky thing in the girl’s hand. ‘I hear you need a jump.’

  ‘Yeah.’ He recovered himself, plastering an ingratiating smile across his jaw. ‘Yeah, we do.’

  He popped the bonnet then stepped back and folded his arms across his chest, watching as she went to work, deftly attaching two cables somewhere in the maze of car parts. I saw him raise two eyebrows and noticed with a smug sense of satisfaction that he was impressed.