The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (31 page)

Chapter Forty Four

   The sun wis beating doon.  Saba passed him wan ae Whitey’s pickle jars containing the water.  In the distance, they could see Loch Broom and the road that they’d jist come alang fae Ullapool.  There wur a few scattered croft hooses oan the side ae the mountains oan the other side.  Jist efter Badcaul, hauf way up a steep hill, Saba asked him tae stoap.

  “Ah’m no sure if that’s a good idea.  If this thing rolls backwards, we’re goosed and Ah’ve never started wan ae these oan the side ae a steep hill,” he’d said tae her.

  “You’ll manage at the top.  We’ve got to get out and look at the views, and anyway, One-eye will need to pee.”

  “Right, well, if this thing ends up doon the side ae a mountain, ye kin explain tae Innes that we lost his good boat because ye wanted tae check oot the view.”

   Paul parked as close tae the embankment at the side ae the road as he could.  He looked aboot.  If another car or lorry came alang they’d be in trouble.

  “Look, Paul, the Summer Isles,” she squealed, spreading the folded map oan the right wing ae the Landy and looking between it and the group ae wee islands scattered oot in front ae them.

  “Check that oot as well.  It’s absolutely amazing,” he said, looking back alang tae where she’d pointed oot tae him wis Little Loch Broom, which lay back in the direction they’d jist come fae.

  “Hmm, I’m not sure if that is the Summer Isles.”

  “Right, Ah don’t want tae spoil yer fun, bit we need tae get gaun,” he said reluctantly as he opened the driver’s door and Wan-eye jumped in.

   “Drive on, Batman,” Saba hooted, pointing forward.

  They didnae hiv long tae wait until the first real challenge confronted them.

  “Jeez!” he said as they passed a signpost that said Gruinard Bay.

  “Will we make it?”

  “Ah’m no sure, bit there’s only wan way tae find oot,” he replied, as he sped across a wee stone bridge and drapped the gears, before tackling the steep bendy slope.

  “It looks like some sort of navy installation,” he heard Saba shouting fae ootside.

  “Ah’m no sure that’s the safest place tae sit,” he shouted back, hivving a good swatch at her legs and thighs as she sat wae her body oot the passenger side windae, facing across the tap ae the Landy.

  “The views are amazing,” she shouted.

  “Aye, they’re no bad fae in here as well,” he shouted, laughing as her thighs clamped thegither like a couple ae lift doors.

  “Pig!” he heard her shout, as he made it tae the tap ae the hill.

  “Ah’m hungry,” he said tae her, efter she climbed back in tae her seat and the Landy descended doon the other side ae the hill.

  “It says here on the map that we’re coming to a place called Poolewe.  Why don’t we stop there and eat the sandwiches and biscuits you brought?  According to the map, it sits on a bay.”

  “Sounds like a good idea tae me.  Ah’ve goat a wee job that needs daeing,” he said.

  In Poolewe, Saba goat oot the sandwiches while Paul took Innes’s auld number plates and a screwdriver oot ae his bag.

  “What are those for?” she asked him, shading her eyes fae the sun as she watched whit he wis up tae.

  “Ah’m changing the number plates as a precaution.  The bizzies will probably hiv circulated the number plates ae George’s Landy.”

  “You’ve thought of everything, haven’t you?”

  “Ah don’t know aboot that.  It’s better tae be careful though.  We’ve only clocked a few cars since we left Ullapool, bit ye never know.  The other good thing is that they won’t be looking fur a Landy that’s towing a boat.  The first thing people will clock is The Dignity.  Hopefully that’ll distract them until it’s too late and we’re past them.”

  “So, you have thought of everything,” she said, smiling, as she haunded wan ae Whitey’s good breid and cheese pieces tae Wan-eye, who wolfed it doon hungrily.

  They hidnae been sitting at the side ae the road fur long before company arrived.

  “Oh, I wonder where they’ve all travelled from.” Saba said, staunin up and looking in the direction ae Gairloch.

  “Dae ye think they’re holidaymakers?” he asked her.

  “If they are, they’ve taken the entire town with them,” Saba replied, as the first caravan pulled o’er and stoapped beside them.

  “Hello there.  Nice day for a sail on the lovely shores of the west coast, eh?” the first guy, who’d appeared fae the convoy ae caravans, said wae a smile, walking past Paul and Saba tae hiv a closer look at the boat.

  He wis quickly followed closely by another dozen guys.

  “It’s a bloody Loch Fyne skiff, Gus,” a boy ae aboot Paul’s age said tae the guy that hid spoken first.

  “A skiff?  Ur ye sure now, Donald?”

  “Oh aye, no question about that.  Is that no a Loch Fyne Skiff?” Donald turned and asked Paul, as the trailer and boat wur suddenly overrun wae a mass ae snottery wee weans swarming aw o’er it.

  Meanwhile, the wummin who’d followed their men folk oot ae the vans and lorries hid started tae light fires at the roadside.

  “Aye, it is.”

  “See, I told ye,” Donald said, clearly chuffed wae himsel.

  “Don’t you think we should get going, Paul?” Saba asked nervously, thinking that only Paul wid hear her.

  “It’s okay, lass, we won’t do ye no harm.  Don’t move on account of us.  We’re just going tae feed the men folk and the bairns and be on our way,” a curly-haired wummin piped up.

  “Oh no, er, I didn’t mean…”

  “You’re welcome to join us for a bite to eat?” another wummin offered, drying her hauns oan the embroidered apron that wis tied roond her waist.

  “Gus?  Gus?  Where the bloody hell are ye?”

  “I’m over here, Mither.”

  “Go and get us some mussels and a bit of crab, if ye can.  Finlay’s getting the seaweed,” Mother shouted fae in amongst a group ae wummin who wur staunin, chewing the cud further doon the line.

  “In our way of life, it would offend us if a fellow traveller didn’t stay for a bite to eat when it was offered,” Gus said tae Paul, wae a twinkle in his eye.

  “Well, we widnae want tae upset anywan’s way ae life then, wid we?” Paul replied wae a grin.

  Apart fae wan wee yelping skirmish between Wan-eye and wan ae the Gypsy dugs, Wan-eye wis hivving a ball.  There must’ve been aboot
fifteen dugs, aw running aboot, being chased by aboot twenty weans, aged between three and ten.

  “So, Paul, what happened to the wee pot-licker’s eye?” Gus asked, as Saba and Paul ate a bowl ae the most amazing grub that Paul hid ever tasted in his life.

  Paul explained whit happened tae Wan-eye oan account ae him being apprenticed tae Tim, Innes’s dug.

  “God curse those keepers!” Mother spat, as Paul looked across at Saba, who wis sitting impassively.

  “Aye, there’s been many a good gypsy laddie who’s been brought down by those braggarts, that’s for sure,” Finlay nodded, letting loose a stream ae spit oan tae the fire.

  “So, whit’s the score wae yersels then, Gus?  Ur youse aw away oan yer holidays or something?”

  “No, we’re heading north, looking for work.  It’s been scarce pickings this year though.  We haven’t taken our traditional routes due to all the violence that was meted out against us last year and now when the local bobbies find out we’re coming their way, we’re harassed to move on.  We’ve just come up from Perthshire.”

  “Are you Scottish?” Saba asked, sounding surprised.

  “Aye, can ye no tell, lass?”

  “I can detect snatches of Gaelic words, I think, but there are other words I’m not sure of,” Saba replied.

  “Aye, we’ve a mix in there.  There’s your traditional Scottish, Gaelic and some Patois,” Gus replied, lifting a flat roond ae breid aff a hot stane beside the fire and tearing a lump aff ae it, before passing it across tae Paul.

  “Oh, so you’re not Romany then?”

  “No, no, lass.  We’re all from the Highlands, or should I say, we were.”

  “Were?” she asked.

  “We’re all McLeod’s and originally come from Assynt and Kincardine.  During the clearances, when we got put off the land, a lot of us perished that first winter, particularly the old and the very young.  Some of us managed to settle while others escaped across to the Americas via Ullapool.  Some, like us, have been wandering ever since,” Mother replied.

  “Whit, ye’ve been wandering aboot since the Highland Clearance days?” Paul asked, surprised.

  “Aye, the lost tribes of Egypt have nothing on us lot,” Finlay laughed.

  “That’s unbelievable,” Paul exclaimed.

  “Oh, it wasn’t just us McLeod’s who became gypsies.  There were McPhees, Williamsons, Stewarts and more,” Mother added, soaking a bit ae breid in her plate ae fish stew, before popping it in her mooth.

  “So, why dae ye get moved oan then?” Paul asked.

  “Because they believe we’re dirty...contaminated.  Two weeks ago a police inspector told three of the women that he didn’t want to see vermin like us in his town.  He said it in front of the bairns too.  Can you imagine?” Gus said, matter ae factly.

  “Aye, we’re the Aborigines of the Highlands,” Wan ae the other mothers said tae nowan in particular.

  “What’s Aborigines?” Saba asked.

  “Aboriginals?  They’re the native people of Australia.  They wander about in the outback where the white people don’t go.  They’re as dispossessed as us and have to wander from place to place to survive.

  “So, young Paul, what’s to do with yer fine skiff then?”

  “We’re delivering it doon tae Loch Fyne.  Ma uncle Innes needs the dosh urgently.  He lives in the Kyle ae Sutherland,” Paul replied and went oan tae explain aboot the financial circumstances Innes hid found himsel in.

  “You know, the worst to suffer amongst those put off their crofts were those on the Kincardine side, because of The Duke’s man at the time, Patrick Sellar.  We still avoid the Kyle as The Duke up there still employs the descendants of old Patrick.  From what we hear, nothing much has changed.  We did hear rumours that the present Duke still uses poachers’ retreats with live twelve bore cartridges in them.  What you’ve just said about your old uncle confirms what we’ve always suspected,” Gus said.

  Paul looked across at Saba, who seemed tae be squirming.

  “Someday we’ll have rights, the same as everyone else,” Finlay said, shaking his heid.

  “Is that not a terrible tale?  The jail will probably kill the poor auld bugger,” Mary, wan ae the wummin, said.

  “So, how much is he selling it for, Paul?” Donnie, another wan ae the guys asked him.

  “He’s getting five hunner smackers fur it.”

  “Five hundred?  He’s getting robbed.  It’s worth more than that,” Donnie said, looking o’er at Gus.

  “How about if I give ye five hundred and fifty pounds sterling for The Dignity…here…just now…today, Paul?” Gus asked, tae excited murmurs fae the group, as aw heids turned tae look at the boat oan the trailer.

  Paul didnae hesitate in his reply.

  “Ah’m sorry, Gus.  Ah cannae dae that.  Ah’ve tae deliver it specifically tae a guy in Inveraray.  He’s goat first shout oan it.  If it wis ma ain boat, Ah widnae hesitate,” Paul replied, apologetically, looking across at Saba who didnae look at aw happy wae his answer.

  “Oh, I see.  Well, how about six hundred and we’ll call it a deal, although ye would need to throw in the trailer she’s sitting on for that,” Gus said, spitting oan his palm, before haudin oot that big haun ae his.

  “Christ, Gus…honest, Ah’d like tae take yer money, bit Ah hiv tae stick tae the deal that auld Innes his struck up wae this guy.”

  Before Gus could respond, Saba stood up and looked doon at Paul.

  “Er, excuse me, Paul.  Can I have a word with you, please?” she said sweetly, as aw the faces ae the wummin-folk broke oot in big smiles.

  “Aye, you tell him, Saba,” Mary shouted, tae hoots ae laughter.

  “Whit?” he asked her, away fae the circle.

  “What do you mean what?  You’ve just been offered more money than what you’re going to get for it down on Loch Fyne and you’ve rejected it?” she retorted, erms folded, right fit tapping the ground.

  “So?”

  “So?  What do you mean so?  Innes was offered five hundred and now you’ve been offered a hundred more and all you can say is so?” she rasped in a high-pitched posh whisper.

  “I’m glad tae see that ye’ve goat Innes’s welfare at heart at last, even though ye’re o’er a hunner years too late,” he spat at her.

  “It’s my welfare I’m concerned about.  Once that boat goes, so can I.  Why would you want to go all the way to Loch Fyne when you can make a better deal here, today, just now?”

  “Because Innes promised the guy first refusal,” he replied.

  “What?”

  “Ye heard me, and where Innes is concerned, that’s a binding contract.”

  “What happens if this person isn’t there when we arrive or he doesn’t have the money to pay for the boat?” she squealed, desperation in her voice.