The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (30 page)

  “The Inverness boys know ye’re oan yer way.  They’ve said that if we want tae waste oor resources, then that’s up tae us.  Yer pal McBride disabled a couple ae the castle’s cars before making aff wae wan fur himsel.  Hamish Cotter, wan ae the local inspectors based in Inverness…a useless prick who Ah knew years ago at the recruitment training college…his agreed tae run fingerprints oan the vehicles tae see if McBride his left any dabs oan them.  Ah widnae haud yer breath oan that wan though.  He says he’ll try and hiv the results ready fur when ye arrive,” Billy Liar added, as The Stalker bent o’er and picked up his bag.

  “And ye kin hiv this tae read oan the train.  Yer ticket is inside.  Mind and keep aw yer receipts and nae bloody fiddling.  We’ve a new cross-referencing checking system in place noo-a-days, tae stoap aw this corruption,” Daddy Jackson, the city’s newest chief inspector
fur Central and North Glesga said smiling, tossing the folder across the table towards him.

Chapter Forty Three

  Before they’d heided oot ae Ullapool, Paul hid noticed a wee butcher’s shoap and hid nipped in and goat a big knucklebone fur Wan-eye, which he wis noo getting tore intae in the back ae the Landy.  The sound ae his teeth, grating oan the bone, wis trying tae droon oot the thrum ae the engine, bit didnae distract Paul fae the sight ae Loch Broom oan the right haun side ae the Landy.  He hidnae realised how beautiful Scotland really wis until he’d set oot oan the journey.  He’d never seen sunrises and sunsets like the wans he’d seen up at Whitey and Innes’s croft.  He’d heard aboot the mountains fae songs he’d sang when he wis at school, as well as fae the Kenneth McKellar and Alexander Brothers records that his maw and da used tae belt oot when he wis a wean.  The songs didnae dae whit he wis looking at any justice.  He wisnae too sure whit the score wis wae The Gardener’s Daughter sitting beside him.  She’d taken the chips fae him, bit apart fae the comment aboot hating salt, he hidnae heard a cheep oot ae her.  He knew things wur serious.  She wis becoming a total liability and he kept weighing up the pros and cons ae dumping her before they goat shot ae the boat.  He hated being dependent oan her tae keep him oot ae the jail.  The Mankys jist widnae believe that a bloody Duke’s daughter wis his get-oot-ae-jail card…in fact, he couldnae bloody believe it either.  He knew the castle wid be up in erms and that the bizzies wid’ve been brought in.  Fae whit he could tell ae her auld man, he’d cause a massive stooshie.  He’d probably goat the bizzies up fae Inverness tae poke aboot, he thought tae himsel.  He went o’er in his heid the route they wur taking.  Apart fae in Ullapool itsel, there wis very little traffic oan the roads.  He didnae think he wid come across many bizzies and even if they hid put oot a description, who wis there aboot here tae spot them?  He wis still convinced that they needed a few days breathing space tae let the dust settle.  Fae whit he could gather fae the maps, Oban wid be their biggest risk…that and getting oan and aff the ferries.  Paul looked aboot.  They’d jist come doon a big hill and wur noo level wae the Loch.  It started tae rain quite heavily and he switched oan the wipers.  The next time they stoapped where there wis people, he’d check oot the map and see if there wis a railway station nearby.  It wid help him tae decide whether tae get shot ae her or keep her tagging alang.  The Landy wis gaun fine and the gauge said that they still hid a full tank.

   Saba took the opportunity tae study him as he focused oan the road through the rain battering aff ae the windscreen.  He actually looked quite angelic…in a sort ae rough way.  He clearly made up the rules as he went alang.  If he wis a sojer, he wid definitely be a leader she thought tae hersel.  He took command ae
situations as they arose and made it clear tae her that he widnae tolerate any interference oan her part.  When she’d stormed aff, it wis wae the intention ae looking fur a polis station.  She’d seen a polisman gaun intae a tearoom and hid jist been aboot tae heid in that direction when Wan-eye hid appeared oot ae the opening across the road that she’d jist exited fae.  How he wisnae hit by the fish lorry that’d hid tae slam oan its brakes, she’d never know.  She wis jist so relieved that he’d made it across tae her that she’d furgotten aw about the polisman.  Sitting oan the wall hid gied her time tae think.  She’d never felt so miserable. Even living in the castle wae her father hidnae been this bad.  She’d tried tae be nice tae him.  She jist couldnae figure him oot.  Wan minute he seemed pleasant enough and the next, he showered her wae abuse.  And that foul mooth ae his? She wis glad that she couldnae understaun a word he wis saying hauf the time. She couldnae understaun whit it wis that made him feel the way he obviously felt aboot her.  Wan evening, while lying in bed, she’d thought back tae when she’d witnessed him fighting the Sellar brothers.   Although she hated violence ae any kind, she’d hid admitted tae hersel that she’d wanted him tae win baith fights.  She wisnae as stupid as The Lost Boy thought she wis.  She knew the Sellars wur violent thugs in the employ ae her father, bit wis he any different?  The Sellars used violence tae get their way and it wis clear tae Saba that The Lost Boy widnae hesitate tae use it either.  He wis quick tae smile and although she hid trouble in trying tae understaun a lot ae the words he used, wae that strange accent ae his, he could actually be quite funny, even when dishing oot abuse to her.  She particularly appreciated and enjoyed his quick-witted threat tae ‘throw her oot ae the car and leave her in amongst her ancestors’ investments.’  The connection between investing in sheep o’er a century ago and her being dumped oan the side ae a mountain road wae a herd ae sheep in nineteen sixty nine hidnae been lost oan her and hid made her smile.  She wis confused by his aggression towards her and her family though.  Ye wid’ve thought that it wis his family that hid been cleared.  Her father wis always gaun oan aboot townies who didnae understaun country life.

  “Right, okay…Ah gie in.  Where did the name tag come fae then?” Paul suddenly asked her, breaking the ice.

  “What?”

  “Ye heard.  Whit kind ae name is Saba?  It sounds kind ae posh tae me, so there’s nae surprise there, eh?”

  “Do you really want to know or are you just being nice to me because you feel guilty about shouting at me and abusing my family?” she replied, too late tae bite aff that tongue ae hers and avoid inflaming the situation.

  “Aye.”

  “Yes what?”

  “Ah’m back crawling fur furgiveness.”

  “You liar!” she mocked, laughing.

  “Well, go oan…hit me wae it.”

  “No, you’ll just laugh and make a fool of me.”

  “Of course Ah will, so spit it oot,” he retorted, grinning and flashing they white even teeth ae his.

  “My name is Saba Blair MacIain MacDonald.  There are a few other names in there that originate from Belgium, but I’ll stick to the Scottish ones. The Blair comes from my great, great grandmother and the MacIain and MacDonald?  Well, everyone knows who they were.”

  “Ah don’t.”

  “Glencoe?”

  “Never heard ae him either,”

  “Are you serious?  Did they not teach you about history at school?”

  “Well, they telt us aboot the Battle ae Hastings in ten sixty six and anyway, Ah never went tae school much, apart fae a couple ae years in primary.”

  “Right, I’ll keep this as brief as I can.  On the twenty seventh of August in sixteen ninety one, King William agreed to offer all the Highland chiefs, including my ancestors and their clan members, a pardon for any who took part in the Jacobite Uprising.  The main thing is that they had to take an oath of allegiance before the first of January sixteen ninety two, in front of one of the magistrates in the Highlands.  If they didn’t appear in person, not only would the pardon be withdrawn, but those who hadn’t signed up, would suffer dire consequences.  The Highland chiefs were not too sure whether to accept, so they sent word to France to get the exiled King James’s permission.  Anyway, one thing led to another and the agreement from King James finally reached the chiefs sometime in the middle of December.  You have to remember that this was the middle of winter.  Anyway, Alastair MacIain, my great, great, great, great grandfather, who was the twelfth Chief of Glencoe, waited until the last minute before heading off to sign the oath.  He made quite a few mistakes.  First of all, he went to the governor of Fort William to sign the oath.  The governor sent him packing as he said he, the governor, wasn’t authorized by the King to receive the oath.  He then informed MacIain that he would need to go to Inveraray and take the oath before the Sheriff of Argyll, who happened to be a Campbell.  Now, MacIain was a bit wary of making this journey because of trouble between his clan members and the Campbells.  The governor in Fort William gave MacIain a letter that he said would ensure his safe passage and give him protection.  The letter also stated that MacIain had made the deadline but had gone to the wrong place to take the oath.”

  “Is that the same Inveraray oan Loch Fyne that we’re taking the boat tae?” Paul asked her.

  “Yes, I think so.  Anyway, it took MacIain three days to reach Inveraray.  On the way there, he got picked up by the Earl of Argyll’s men, who took him to Barcardine Castle and kept him waiting for a full day.  What MacIain didn’t know was that this was a delaying tactic on the part of the Campbells to make his situation worse.  If you think my ancestors were bad, you should read up about the Campbells.  Anyway, he managed to get back on the road and made it to Inveraray.  Once he got there, Sir Colin Campbell wasn’t there and MacIain had to hang about for three more days until Campbell eventually arrived.  Everything seemed to go fine and Sir Colin took his oath and signed the papers.  Even though he didn’t trust the Campbells, he felt he had done his duty and headed home.  What MacIain didn’t realise was that the main person in Scotland with all the power at that time was a person called John Dalrymple, who happened to be a Lowlander and hated the Highlanders.  He had already sent out a statement to the army in the Highlands, stating that severe punishment was to be dealt out to all those who didn’t abide by the terms and dates of the offer of the oath.  He was also against the King offering the oath in the first place.  After MacIain arrived home, he thought no more about it, but in London, the Campbells got in touch with Dalrymple and persuaded him to go to the King and convince him that MacIain was in breach of the conditions of the oath and that the twelfth Chief of Glencoe should be used as an example to those who disobeyed the King,” Saba said, falling silent.

  “So, whit happened next?” Paul asked, turning tae look at her, fascinated.

  “Oh, right.  Anyway, it’s all in the history books.  All the double dealing started up again, which eventually led to a Captain Campbell being issued with orders to kill everyone under the age of seventy in Glencoe, with particular emphasis on killing the Old Fox...the Old Fox being my ancestral grandfather, MacIain.”

  “And did they?”

  “Yes.  The Campbells turned up in Glencoe on the pretence that they were collecting the King’s taxes.  The MacDonald’s welcomed them.  Although there were over a hundred soldiers, the MacDonald’s fed them all and put them up in their houses and their barns.  The fact that they did the killing in the still of the night was what made it all the more shameful.  MacIain, or the ‘Auld Fox’ as the Campbells referred to him as, didn’t make it out of his bed.  They murdered him as he tried to get up.  I think there was about thirty eight of the MacDonald men murdered that night.  A few of MacIain’s sons managed to escape.  The women and the children were thrown out into the glen.  Forty women and children froze to death in the glen after the Campbells burned down their houses.”

  “Fuck!” Paul muttered under his breath.

  “I’m surprised you never got taught this at school.”

  “We only got taught English history.”

  “In America, celebrating the clans is a big thing, especially in New York.”

  “So, where did the Saba label appear fae then?”

  “Oh, that name isn’t as dramatic as the Scottish ones.  I was born on a farm in Kenya.”

  “Africa?  So, ye’re no Scottish then?” Paul exclaimed, laughing as him and Wan-eye turned tae look at her.

  “I’m as Scottish as you are.”

  “Okay, Ah’ll accept ye’re hauf Scottish then,” he teased.

  “Anyway, I was named by Maasai women who looked after me when I was born.  Because I was born on the seventh day of the seventh month at seven o’clock in the evening, they called me Saba.  In Swahili, Saba means seven.  My father accepted the name as a birth name.  I don’t think my mother was too pleased at the time though.” 

  “Well, it’s a cool name.”

  “Do you think so?”

  “Ah kin only think ae wan other name that comes close tae it and it’s a Glaswegian name.”

  “Oh?”

  “Aye, Senga.  Wan ae ma pals, Johnboy Taylor wis in love wae a lassie called Senga when he wis at school.  We aw thought it wis a stoating name…very exotic an aw that, although the story behind where it came fae isnae quite as good as yours.”

  “What does Senga mean?  Do you know?”

  “Aye, it’s Agnes spelt backwards,” Paul replied, hoping she widnae notice that he wis turning right at the Braemore Junction towards Gairloch, insteid ae the left that he’d written oan his junction route.