The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter (46 page)

Chapter Seventy One

  Morag Hegarty-Stewart, the last-tae-be betrothed daughter ae the late Colonel Granville Hegarty-Stewart ae The Glenrich Estate near Bannockburn, wis unaware ae the swarm ae activity that hid descended upon Shore Road, jist alang fae Stirling Railway Station.  This was understandable oan account ae the fact that she hid her face buried in the lap ae Paul Neville-Williamson, local farmer and Tory candidate in the forthcoming nineteen seventy general election fur Stirlingshire West.  Long efter the incident hid taken place in Shore Road during that warm summer ae nineteen sixty nine, the general consensus amongst the pearl and fox hunting set wis that Neville-Williamson, who wis sitting back comfortably in the driver’s seat wae his eyes squeezed shut, moaning pleasurably like a Neanderthal monkey, who’d finally discovered how tae use a plastic back scratcher, should’ve known better than tae hiv his new hearing aid switched aff so early in the efternoon, near the railway station and toon centre.

  “Why could you not have waited until you got out of the town and into the countryside, for crying out loud?  There are plenty of little lanes and tracks which I used before your mother and I were married,” Sir Thomas Neville-Williamson, Paul’s father, hid railed at him efter he’d been charged under the Indecent Offences Act and subsequently released fae custody oan bail.

  Friends and acquaintances ae Morag Hegarty-Stewart hid totally understood why she’d been confused and hid ignored the orders she’d eventually heard fae the polis through a polis megaphone tae vacate the car.  Aw the local political parties that hid been driving aroond the streets, expounding why people should vote for them, hid hid tannoy speakers attached tae the roofs ae their cars, encouraging people tae join up.

  “Now, be honest, ladies.  Who amongst us would have been able to tell the difference?” Lady Henrietta McLeish hid asked the ladies ae the Bannockburn ladies’ tennis group o’er tea two months later.

  The Stalker and The Highland Fox arrived oan the scene, jist as the sharpshooters oan the local roofs gied the thumbs-up tae Inspector Hugh Blaster oan the ground, tae let him know that they wur in position and ready.

  “How is it looking, Blaster?” The Stalker asked him, peering up the deserted street.

  “Paddy, how ur ye daeing, son?  So, they managed tae track ye doon, did they?”

  “Aye, we wur across in Balloch, skoofing doon a wee cup ae tea, when we goat a shout that McBride wis across here.  This is Swein McTavish fae Sutherland, up in the Highlands, by the way,” The Stalker said, nodding towards McTavish.

  “The famous Highland Fox, eh?  How ur ye daeing, son?  Glad tae meet ye and hiv ye oan board,” Blaster said.

  The Highland Fox looked up the street.  The Landy wis sitting parked tightly in between a red GPO van and a wee green Morris Traveller.  There wis nae sign ae the boat.  It wis hard tae see through the windscreen ae the Landy fae where they wur crouched, peering up at it oot ae sight ae the occupants, as the clouds in the sky wur reflecting aff ae it.  He craned his neck tae check oot the number plate oan the Landy, bit wis unable tae see it, due tae the close proximity ae the vehicle in front ae it.

  “Whit dae ye think, Swein?” The Stalker asked him.

  “I’m not sure.  It looks like the Landy, right enough.”

  “Oh, it’s them awright.  Why else would they ignore the order tae vacate the vehicle wae their hauns up?” Blaster said knowingly, as three bizzies oan either side ae the parked cars in the road sneaked doon towards the Landy, guns drawn.

  “Christ, they’re not going to shoot a
fourteen-year-old boy, are they, Paddy?” The Highland Fox asked, alarmed.

  “Only if the lassie looks like she’ll be harmed, Swein.  Ah widnae worry…these boys know whit they’re daeing.”

  “The driver looks as though he’s hivving some kind ae a fit or he’s in great pain,” a voice crackled o’er Blaster’s radio that wis clipped oan tae his chest between the pair ae criss-crossed ammunition bandoliers.

  “That’s fae wan ae the boys o’er there, wae the binoculars, behind that wee Austin eleven hunner,” Blaster murmured tae them, as they looked across tae the radio speaker.

  It aw happened very quickly.  Before The Highland Fox could blink, a man and a wummin wur lying spread-eagled oan either side ae the Landy.  The female wis screaming in terror, while the guy wis lying wae two bizzies kicking fuck oot ae him while he wis trying tae pull up the zip oan his troosers.

  “Christ, it’s not them!” The Highland Fox shouted, wae relief, running efter The Stalker.

  “What’s going on here?  Do you realise who I am?” an indignant Paul Neville-Williamson, soon-to-be-sacked parliamentary candidate fur Stirlingshire West demanded, as his companion, Morag Hegarty-Stewart, declared the immortal words that wur tae become imbedded intae the rich tapestry ae local folklore near the site ae the famous Battle ae Bannockburn.

  “But I was only looking for one of my earrings down the side of the driver’s seat, officer,” she wailed in terror.

Chapter Seventy Two

  The road wis busy aw the way fae Dumbarton intae the city.  They only spotted two squad cars, sitting at junctions.  The first wan wis jist efter they’d come oot ae Dumbarton.  Although he kept his eyes straight aheid, Paul felt the eyes ae the two plods following the Landy convoy, as it swept past.  His heart wis gaun like the clappers, bit they wur still sitting motionless at the junction as he watched them disappear in his wing mirror and the convoy made haste towards the city centre.  The next wan wis sitting in a side street, jist before the Landys sped under the railway bridge at Anniesland Cross. 

  “Ah cannae believe it, bit we’re hame at last, Saba,” Paul sighed, as he turned left intae Maryhill Road in the Coocaddens while the other two Landys turned right aff Great Western Road and heided towards the toon centre.

  “Does that mean I can sit in the front seat?”

  “Naw, it disnae,” he said, awash wae relief, bit still oan guard.

   Although he’d been crapping himsel aw the way intae the city, the journey hid gied him time tae work oot his next move.  He hid tae get rid ae the Landy.  It wid only be a matter ae time before it wis spotted.  He’d looked aboot at the cars and buses crawling towards the next set ae traffic lights oan Possil Road.  There wisnae any other Landys tae be seen.

  “Ah’m gonnae drap ye aff at ma sister’s hoose fur a wee while, Saba,” he said tae her, as she sat oan the wheel-arch wae her legs crossed, singing alang tae Marvin Gaye’s ‘Ah Heard It Through The Grapevine,’ hivving finally managed tae get a signal fae inside the back ae the Landy.

  “Why?”

  “Because Ah need tae get shot ae these wheels.”

  “I’ll come with you.  I don’t want to be left alone.”

  “Ye won’t be oan yer ain.  Ye’ll be wae ma big sister.  Ye’ll like her.”

  “No, I need to stay with you.”

  “Well, ye cannae…it’s too dangerous.  Ah telt ye before, ye’ll hiv tae trust me and dae whit ye’re telt.”

  “It can’t be any more dangerous than New York and I stayed there for years,” she pouted, o’er the dulcet tones ae Desmond Decker and his ‘Israelites.’

  “Ah’m no gonnae argue wae ye.  Whit Ah say goes.  Wance ye’re oan that train south, ye kin dae whit the fuck ye want, bit until then, ye’ll dae whit Ah tell ye.”

  “So, when are you going back up to the strath?” she asked.

  “The morra.”

  “And then?”

  “And then Ah’m back doon the road the same day if Ah kin get a bus fae Ardgay back intae Inverness.”

  “I’m glad you’re not intending to stay in the strath again.”

  “Is that right?” he murmured, only hauf listening, as he let a van turn left in front ae him fae Keppochhill Road oan tae Saracen Street.

  “I wish I’d never told you about what George did to Morven.”

  “Why no?”

  “Because, I feel I’ve betrayed her trust after she made me swear I wouldn’t tell anyone about what happened…especially you.”

  “Well, Ah widnae worry oan that score.  She’ll probably never clap eyes oan me again.”

  “Can I ask you a question, Paul?”

  “Naw, Ah’m concentrating oan watching oot fur the bizzies.”

  “Does it bother you that Morven is no longer a virgin?”

  “She is a virgin.”

  “Not after what that pig, George Sellar, did to her.”

  “Well, maybe no tae you or anywan else, bit as far as Ah’m concerned, she is.  She never gied anything away…it wis taken fae her.  That makes aw the difference…at least, it dis is in ma eyes.”

  “Oh Paul, that’s one of the nicest things I’ve ever heard anyone say,” Saba said, tears appearing in her eyes.

  “Look, change the tune, eh?  Ah don’t want tae think aboot Morven.  Ah’ve goat enough oan ma plate as it is.”

  “You’re right, I’m sorry.  And anyway, I’m sure that it’s for the best.  From what I’ve gathered since I’ve been on the road with you…if you stayed in the strath, you would probably end up killing George Sellar or he would kill you, which would break Morven’s heart even more.  I’d hate to see her hurt.”

  “Whit? O’er me?”

  “No, you fool…over the hurt that you would cause her by either being put away for the rest of your life or being dead.”

  “Aye, well, Ah widnae haud yer breath oan that front.  It widnae be the first so called hard-man that his tried and failed in that department,” he retorted, as Mungo Jerry belted oot ‘In The Summertime.’

  Paul slowed doon and turned left intae Carlisle Street, which wis jist aff Keppochhill Road, where his sister lived.  He turned first right intae Gourlay Street and parked up the Landy.

  “Right, Saba, grab yer bag and let’s go.  We’ll leave Wan-eye in the Landy.  If we don’t, some wee toe-rag will be aff wae it before Ah get back.”

  “But I want to stay with you, Paul,” Saba whinged, as they doubled back past the bowling green tae Keppochhill Road.  His sister, Kathleen, stayed oan the first flair ae number three o two.  Paul hid helped her and her man, Jimmy, who wis a railway porter doon at Queen Street Station, tae dae a moonlit flit tae there earlier in the year, while he wis oan the run.

  “Right, noo, listen up.  Ye’ll hiv tae be oan yer best behaviour.  She’s no as tolerant as me.  She’ll gie ye a moothful if ye gie her any cheek,” he warned her, as they turned intae the closemooth.

  “Oh ma God, Paul, it’s you!  Jimmy, it’s Paul!” Kathleen shouted o’er her shoulder, as Jimmy appeared fae the living room intae the hall.

  “How ur ye daeing, Kathleen?” Paul said, as Saba and him entered.

  “The polis hiv been turning Ma and Da’s hoose upside doon since yesterday morning, Paul.  Ma’s gaun aff her heid, so she is,” Kathleen said tae his back, following them intae the living room.

  “Ach, Ah widnae worry aboot that…she should be used tae that by noo.  Kathleen, Jimmy, this is Saba.”

  “Ooh, er, hello,” Kathleen said, no sure whether tae curtsy or no.

  “Paul, kin Ah hiv a wee word wae ye, son?  Ootside in the lobby…in private?” Jimmy asked him, daeing a quick exit.

  Paul followed him.  Jimmy hid scurried alang the lobby and wis oot oan the stair-heid landing.  He pulled the ootside door o’er wance Paul came oot behind him.

  “Paul, whit the fuck dae ye think ye’re playing at, bringing her here?  We’ve enough oan oor plate as it is,” Jimmy’s hissing voice echoed oan the landing.

  “It’s only fur a couple ae hours, Jimmy.  We’ll be away before ye know it.”

  “Will ye, fuck!  Ah want her oot ae the hoose right noo.  Ah cannae bloody believe that ye’ve brought some fancy Lord’s daughter tae ma door.  The bizzies ur turning the whole toon upside doon, looking fur her.”

  “Hiv they been up tae yer door?” Paul asked him.

  “No yet, bit it’s only a matter ae time.”

  “So, whit’s ye’re problem then?  Ah telt ye…it’ll only be fur a couple ae hours till Ah get her sorted oot and oan a train.”

  “Ah cannae get o’er ye, ya selfish basturt, ye.  Wan ae the weans is jist getting o’er the whooping cough and noo ye’re bringing trouble tae ma door?”

  “Aw, fur Christ’s sake, Jimmy, haud yer wheesht.  Ye wurnae saying that earlier in the year when me and ma pals wur humphing yer furniture up and doon the stairs in the middle ae the night, tae get ye away fae The Corporation, who wur aboot tae make you and yer weans homeless.”

  “Don’t ye bloody start oan me, pal.  Ah’ll fucking kill ye if Ah lose ma weans o’er this.”

  “Jimmy, don’t make promises ye cannae keep,” Paul said dismissively, as Kathleen appeared oan the landing.

  “Jimmy, get back in the hoose.  In fact, ye better get gaun or ye’re gonnae be late fur yer shift,” she said tae him.

  “Jist remember whit Ah said, big man,” Jimmy growled, disappearing back intae the hoose.

  “Fuck you,” Paul retorted.

  “Right, whit’s happening, Paul?” Kathleen asked him.

   Paul explained that he needed tae leave Saba there until he goat shot ae a set ae wheels.  He assured her that Saba wis there through her ain choice and that he hidnae kidnapped her, despite whit she’d probably heard.  He wis putting her oan a train later and then he’d be oan his way as well.

  “Look, the reason the polis hivnae been up tae oor door is because they don’t know where we live.  This isnae a Corporation hoose, bit it’ll only be a matter ae time before they track us doon.  The lassie kin stay as long as ye want, bit don’t ye ever hiv a go at ma man because he wants tae protect his family…hiv ye goat that?”

  “Aye, Ah’m sorry, Kathleen.  Ah wis oot ae order, so Ah wis.”

  “Right, let’s go back in and hiv a wee chat till we find oot whit’s gaun oan.  Ah’ve never spoken tae a real princess before.  And she’s lovely as well.  She’s playing wae the weans.”

  “Aye, she’s fine, Kathleen.  Ye’ll like her, bit she’s no a princess…she’s a lady.”

  “Same thing,” Kathleen said wae a smile, as she pushed open the door and walked back intae the lobby.

  She hurriedly grabbed a brush aff ae a shelf and brushed her hair before disappearing back intae the living room.