A Rope--In Case (2 page)

‘What a glamorous name for mince,' I murmured to Janet. ‘It makes it sound quite appetising.' When my turn came I too asked for a pound of ‘wee beefies'. The assistant flicked me a look of disdain.

‘Is it mince you're after wantin'?' he asked severely.

I went with Janet to the chemist where she bought half a stone of baking soda to alleviate the indigestion which afflicted all her family and then she came with me to the chandler's to order my roofing felt and nails. While the assistant was counting out the nails for me old Farquhar came shuffling in.

‘Haff you any sea boots?' he demanded.

‘Aye, we have plenty,' was the crisp reply. Old Farquhar leaned forward, his hand cupped to his ear.

‘All that lot there,' shouted the man, indicating the line of boots in all sizes that stretched across the back of the shop.

Farquhar gave them a cursory glance. ‘Thank you very much, I will take two,' he said with lofty indifference.

We had finished our shopping within the hour and as it was too wet to go for a walk and too early to get lunch we went into the tea room where we drank tea and chatted with the waitress who turned out to be a relative of Janet's. Following that we ambled up to the hotel, locally known as ‘Kipper Hall' and ate kippers and turnips and potatoes and declined a pool of rice pudding. Janet, by discreet questioning, discovered that the hotel cook was also a relative of hers and sent the waitress to convey the discovery to her which resulted in an invitation to take tea in the kitchen. We were seated cosily in front of the fire exchanging news and gossip when the door was pushed open and Erchy appeared. He was carrying a large tin of foot-rot ointment.

‘Ah, they told me I would find you here,' he greeted us.

‘Come away in,' invited the cook and poured out another cup of tea.

Erchy came in and sat down.

‘Are you wantin' us, then?' Janet asked.

‘I was wantin' Miss Peckwitt,' he admitted.

I glanced at him in surprise. ‘Why me?' I asked.

‘Well, you mind I came out to see would I get a look at a boat I was thinkin' of buyin'?' Janet and I nodded. ‘Aye, well it seems she's out in a place a few miles from here an' I cannot get a car to take me there.'

‘Too far to walk?' I asked.

‘Aye, in the time I have before the bus goes away again an' I'm no so keen to stay the night here.'

‘So why were you looking for me?' I asked.

‘It's this way,' he began, and went on to tell me that there was a car available but there was no driver. The old man who owned the car had been banned from driving but if I would agree to drive it he would be very pleased to let us have the car for as long as we wished.

‘Okay,' I agreed. ‘So long as we're back in time for the bus.'

Janet decided to come with us ‘just for the drive' and we collected the car from an extremely co-operative garage proprietor. The mist had by how been harried away to the hills by a bullying wind that was ushering thick spongy looking clouds in its place. Before we had gone more than half a mile they had wrung themselves out and the windscreen wipers worked steadily.

‘I met a relative of yours when I went for a drink,' Erchy told Janet.

‘Another?' I laughed. ‘She's already discovered two this morning.'

‘Aye, well this fellow's newly back from America. He's been out there near enough to twenty-five years.'

Janet was agog with interest. ‘It wouldn't be yon Uisdean who married my cousin's cousin from Uist?' She and Erchy delved into genealogies.

‘That was him then that went away because of the ghost,' she told us when identification was completed satisfactorily. ‘I didn't think he'd ever come back to these parts.'

‘Is it him?' Erchy accepted her statement without surprise. ‘Aye well he hasn't lost his taste for whisky while he's been away.'

‘Ach, no,' Janet assured him. ‘He would still draw the same breath.'

‘What ghost is this you're talking about?' I asked.

‘You mind the one. You must have heard of it.' Janet was emphatic.

‘I don't think I have,' I said.

‘Well, this fellow, this sort of cousin of mine was walkin' home one night when he met a strange woman. He greeted her with a “Ciamar a Tha” just the same as he would anyone but as soon as he's spoken this woman turns and walks alongside him and tells him that he's the first person to have spoken to her for many years. He knew fine she was a ghost then an' tried to hurry away but she would follow him. She told him she had not died by her own hand as people thought but that she had been murdered. She named her killer and pleaded with the man to go to the authorities and have the murderer brought to justice. He had to say he would, just to get rid of her but he didn't do any more about it. The next time he was that way she pursued him again, pleadin' an' pleadin'. He still didn't do anythin' about it but she upset him so much he packed up an' went to America,'

‘I've never heard that story before,' I told her.

‘Indeed?' Janet's voice was puzzled. ‘It's well known in these parts.' The three of us became deep in thought for a few minutes and then Janet spoke again. ‘I wonder if it's just a lot of nonsense?'

‘What, the story or the ghost?' I asked.

‘No, indeed.' Janet sounded prickly. ‘The man wouldn't have told a lie. No, I was thinkin' about the belief we have hereabouts that a ghost can't cross water. That's why he went to America, you see. But I'd like to know if it's true or not. It's a pity Erchy didn't know who it was an' then he could have asked him.'

Erchy said, ‘Aye, well it's too late now. He was catchin' the train back to Glasgow an' he's away back on his travels by the weekend.'

We drove on in silence. ‘What a nice man that garage proprietor seems to be,' I said.

‘Aye,' Erchy admitted shortly.

‘He didn't seem to be able to do enough for us,' added Janet.

‘Aye.'

It was unlike Erchy to be so terse but Janet and I knew that questions would bring no information. We waited patiently.

‘You mind that net I sold about three years back?' Erchy asked Janet at last.

‘I mind that fine. It wasn't a net just, was it?'

‘No, but the net was the chief thing.'

‘I remember that,' she said.

‘Well, it was to that very man I sold them. He didn't have the money to pay for them then but he said he'd see me right so I let him have them. I've never seen a penny from him since.'

‘The man!' ejaculated Janet.

‘He looks to be doing well enough now,' I remarked. The garage had been flanked by a shop bearing the same name and both had looked highly prosperous.

‘He's doin' fine,' Erchy corroborated. ‘He was tellin' me himself of all the trouble he has with the Income Tax. He says they're always after him.'

‘He must be doin' well if he has the Income Tax after him,' said Janet, knowledgeably.

‘Aye, he was tellin' me he had a letter from them wantin' money round about Christmas time so he sent them a Christmas card with his reply. He wrote on it “A Merry Christmas to you ye buggers” and he repeated “ye buggers” wherever there was space all over the card.'

‘That was no very nice of him,' Janet observed.

‘He was pleased enough with it,' said Erchy. ‘He believes he fairly spoiled their Christmas for them.'

‘An all this time he's never paid you for your net,' Janet was indignant.

‘No, he has not.'

‘Have you asked him for the money?' That was my question. Janet, being a Gael would never have suggested such a thing could happen.

‘Indeed no!' Erchy was shocked.

‘Maybe it's just as well you took his car, then,' Janet told him, ‘You'll maybe get a bit of somethin' back from it.'

‘It's a shame we don't have the time to go for a good drive round on his petrol while we have the chance,' he said. ‘There's plenty in the tank.'

‘We could have fairly enjoyed ourselves,' Janet said regretfully.

Erchy inspected the boat he had been thinking of buying, rejected it with the pronouncement that it would ‘float like a bundle of hay' and was ready to return. Back at the garage the beaming proprietor greeted us effusively. Erchy's hand wavered in the region of his breast pocket subtly indicating that he had money to pay if the man should have the cheek to ask for it. Just as subtly the other conveyed that no mention of money must be made.

‘Take the car any time you're wantin' it,' he told Erchy and seemed affronted that we had used so little petrol. I got the feeling that had we damaged the car he would have welcomed the opportunity to display further magnanimity. He was insistent that we took tea with him and his wife and led us into a passage which went from the garage to a newly built extension of the old croft house. Here we sat on modern chairs and were urged to eat quantities of shop biscuits while the old woman poured out cup after cup of thick black tea that looked as if we should need knives and forks to wrestle with it.

It was time to go. We shook hands all round and thanked them for their hospitality, assuring them of reciprocal cordiality if they should ever come to Bruach. Only Erchy seemed to be a little ‘tongue in cheek' with his remarks.

At the pier we found the tide was out and picked our way to the ferry over slippery weed while spray splashed and shed itself over us. Just as the ferry was about to leave there came a shout and we perceived the garage proprietor running down to the jetty, gesticulating and shouting Erchy's name. Erchy went forward to meet him.

‘I was thinkin' I'd never catch you,' panted the man, as he handed Erchy a parcel. ‘You left this behind you in the car an' I didn't notice it until this minute just.'

Erchy gave a nod of pleased recollection. ‘Aye, that's right so I did,' he said, taking the parcel. ‘I don't know what I'd do without it.'

He rejoined Janet and me. ‘Erchy, I'm sure there was no parcel left in that car,' I told him. Janet and I were most careful to check.'

Erchy gave me an enigmatic smile. ‘Damty sure there wasn't,' he agreed. He opened the parcel and revealed a carton of five hundred cigarettes. They were of a brand I knew he never smoked and to my look of astonishment he explained: ‘This is just the man's way of payin' me for my net. Now we're both satisfied.'

It was so cold and wet on the ferry that the man who should have collected our fares chose not to leave the shelter of the wheelhouse, allowing us to make the journey free.

‘He's no seem' us,' murmured Janet, in the Bruach idiom.

‘Not like it is in the summer,' Erchy commented. ‘Then, when there's plenty tourists on the ferry they won't take it near the pier till they've got all the fares. They just keep circlin' round makin' sure no-one can walk off without payin first.'

On the island quay stood an aged and dispirited touring car with most of its side windows missing. The bus driver waited beside it.

‘The buss is broken,' he announced. His tone made the disaster sound an everyday occurrence.

‘Broken?' Janet exclaimed.

‘Aye. It's away to the garage an' they're sayin' they'll not likely get it sorted before midnight.' There was a trace of exultant pessimism about him.

‘So we've got to get home in this thing.' I said, peering into the car's unkempt interior.

‘Unless you'll stay for the dance,' the driver proposed eagerly. ‘There's to be a good dance on here tonight an' I wouldn't mind stayin' for it.'

‘Oh, my,' said Janet, already half persuaded. For her a dance promised a bevy of friends and a good ceilidh in some crowded corner of the room.

Erchy said thoughtfully, ‘I've a mind to stay myself.'

They all looked at me. ‘I must get home,' I protested. ‘I've got a cow and hens to see to tonight yet.'

‘Ach, I can get a message for someone to see to your beasts for you,' the driver assured me.

‘No need,' I insisted heartlessly. ‘If there's a car to take me. I'm going back now.'

‘There's a car all right but you've not heard yet who's goin' to drive it.' The driver smiled wickedly and mentioned a name. ‘An' he has a good drink on him already,' he added with relish. I felt myself go pale. The Bruach road ran steeply along the side of the loch and at times there were literally only inches separating the wheels of the bus from the crumbling edge of the road. With a shudder I recollected the one hair-raising journey I had endured with the driver he mentioned. For weeks afterwards in my dreams I repeatedly found myself in pieces at the bottom of some precipice.

‘I'm not going with him,' I said flatly.

‘Then stay for the dance,' the driver wheedled.

‘No.' I knew I was being cruel but it was his job to drive the bus and I badly wanted to get home.

‘Ach, you'd enjoy yourself,' he persisted.

‘I would not,' I told him. ‘I don't know a soul here. Nobody would ask me to dance.'

‘There's Erchy. He'll dance with you.'

‘Erchy will do all his dancing in the bar,' I said.

‘I'll give you a dance myself.' His tone was generous.

‘Thankyou,' I countered. ‘And what would I do the rest of the time? Just sit there looking out of things and not knowing what to do with myself, I suppose.'

‘Ach, Miss Peckwitt, there's no need for that. Just you eat a couple of them figs you can buy from the grocer. When you're not dancin' it gives you somethin' to do pickin' all the seeds out of your teeths. It's what I do myself when I'm at a dance in a strange place.'

Janet turned on him. ‘That's all right for you,' she told him, ‘but Miss Peckwitt has her own teeth. They're not false ones like yours.'