by Les Haswell
“Excellent. Good he was able to help.”
“Speaking of which, I better get going if I’m going to catch that ferry. I’m not very good at this, Tina. I normally only do one-night stands, but I really want to see you again. If you want to, that is; if you don’t, tell me now.”
“I want to see you again, you great lump. I thought I made that pretty clear the other night!”
“That was then and there was alcohol involved. This is now, in the clear light of day.”
“Stop right there,” she admonished. “I don’t spend the night with every stranger I meet in a bar. In fairness, I’ve never slept with someone I’d just met … until the other night. Even now, I’m not sure why I did, but I’d like to find out. So, clear light of day, I do want to see you again, because we might just have something special.”
With a deep exhalation, Rob ran a hand over his short, spikey hair. “You know how to get a guy’s attention. Can’t wait to see you now.” He glanced at his watch and sighed. “I need to go. The quicker I get this sorted out, the quicker we get back together. Look after yourself, Tina. See you soon, yeah!”
“Be careful and please don’t do anything stupid. I want you back in one piece.”
“You got it,” Rob said quietly, ending the call.
“Hey, man, you’re going to miss that ferry if you don’t get a move on,” Mac declared as Rob walked back into the kitchen, carrying his rucksack.
“Wish me luck, Big Mac, wish me luck.” Rob caught the keys Mac threw to him across the breakfast bar. He couldn’t believe that after sixteen years, he was really going back to Achravie.
“Ach, you’re not goin’ to need luck. You’re probably overreacting to that phone call. I know what you’re like. Now get goin’ and I’ll see you in a couple days. I’ve got work to do too, you know.” Mac laughed.
Rob and Big Mac shared a bear hug and Rob walked over to the black Land Rover Defender 110, which matched the registration number on the key fob. He tossed his bag into the back, climbed into the driver’s seat, adjusted it forward a couple of inches. He fired up the big throaty V8 engine and, with a quick wave to his friend, drove off to catch the Blackwaterfoot-Achravie ferry.
8
The drive to Blackwaterfoot was uneventful and, with the power of the Land Rover, Rob eased past slower moving traffic. This was the countryside of his boyhood and rather than get nostalgic, or even bitter, about what he’d been forced to leave behind, Rob drove quickly, which meant concentrating more on driving than the past.
He arrived in Blackwaterfoot early, the journey having taken only fifteen minutes. He parked the vehicle and walked over to the slipway to watch the ferry as it drew closer. The ferry service had been taken over by a larger ferry operator, which now operated most of the West of Scotland routes to the Isles and now had a bigger ferry than before. Rob was quite pleased about that; the bigger the ferry, the more passengers it took, and the less any one passenger stood out.
The ferry was approaching Blackwaterfoot, albeit a bit out. Ten minutes later and the ferry was emptying its human cargo with cars and light vans. The vessels operating on the crossing were of different sizes; the smaller could carry 12 cars and 199 passengers at nine knots, the larger 24 cars and 150 passengers at 10 knots. The ferries were too small for heavy goods vehicles.
Twenty minutes later, Rob climbed the stairway from the car deck to the passenger deck of the smaller of the two ferries. The Land Rover was parked and locked in the small car deck below. He’d have been happier to sit in the car, but Health & Safety notices said that passengers and drivers weren’t allowed on the car deck during the short trip and he’d already seen one couple being told to vacate their vehicle as per the notices.
The car deck was almost full, with nine cars parked nose-to-tail on the lower deck, but there were only about fifty passengers on this crossing. A few looked like locals, but the majority were obviously tourists, probably keen to see the standing stones and ruins of Achravie Castle. Rob didn’t recognise anyone, which he thought was a good start to the journey, although at some stage he’d undoubtedly meet people from his past.
Rod queued at the on-board ticket office as the slipway at Blackwaterfoot was unattended and paid £37 cash for a return ticket to Achravie. He stood on the passenger deck, staring out over the water. Achravie wasn’t a large inland and covered about 2200 hectares, which was the rough equivalent of just under eight-and-a-half square miles, with a population of approximately 450 people. About half of these lived in the village of Achravie, with the others spread across a few small hamlets or the farms and crofts, which provided work for a good number of residents.
The whole island belonged to Achravie Estate, the main employer on the island. Andrew MacLaine owned Achravie estate and most of the jobs on Achravie depended on him and him alone. It was this fact that had allowed Andrew MacLaine to strike his son’s apparent involvement in a road traffic accident, and the resultant death of a young girl, off the record books.
The klaxon sounded and the ferry PA system instructed drivers to return to their vehicles, so Rob made his way back down to the car deck as the ferry approached the slipway adjacent to Achravie harbour. Despite the coolness of the car deck, Rob’s hands were sweating as he gripped the steering wheel more firmly than necessary. The red Seat León in front moved off and Rob hesitated a few seconds before following the car off the ferry, up the slipway, and onto Achravie for the first time in sixteen years.
By the time Rob drove on the island, it was close on 11.00 and his first impulse was to contact Fraser and find out why he wanted Rob there so urgently. The fact that Lorna Cameron had said that his brother Bruce wasn’t to know that he was on the island worried him. Did that mean that Bruce and Fraser being in hospital were connected?
Experience had taught Rob always to plan around a worst-case scenario, so he decided that until he knew more about why he was there, he’d try to make contact only with Fraser or Lorna, and would keep a low profile. He was well used to operating under the radar, so he decided to find out a bit more about Fraser’s whereabouts before making any decisions as to what to do next.
Rob turned left from the slipway onto Main Street and drove through Achravie, passing down a street that appeared to have changed little since he’d last been there. A few of the names over the shops had changed, but little else. As he approached the Red Lion on his right, he pulled to the other side of the road to get a closer look. There, above the closed front door, was a little polished brass plaque displaying the licensee’s name. He slowed to read it. “Hamish Allen”. So Hamish was still there, well, well.
Rob pulled back across the other side of the road and started towards the Cottage Hospital, just down the road on the edge of the village. He stopped at the side of the road as the building came into view. It boasted a couple of portacabin-style buildings, which hadn’t been there before but, otherwise, it pretty much looked the same.
Rob took out his smartphone and googled the hospital to get its contact details and called the telephone number listed.
“Good morning, Achravie Cottage Hospital, Staff Nurse Anderson speaking. How may I help you?” the voice at the other end chirped.
“Good morning, Staff Nurse. I’m hoping you can help me, please,” said Rob casually. Very few people could say no to a request for help. “What are the visiting hours, please?”
“That would depend on which ward you want to visit, sir,” she said pleasantly.
“I’m not actually sure which one my uncle is in. His name is Fraser McEwan. Maybe you can help me?”
“Mr McEwan was in one of the side rooms, but let me check to make sure he’s still there.”
He could hear Staff Nurse Anderson ask, “Is Fraser McEwan still in Room F, Mags?
He heard a woman say, “Yes. I’ve just changed one of his dressings.”
The Staff Nurse returned. “He’s in Room F. Because it’s a side room, and he’s on his own, we’re not too strict with visitors. Are
you coming in today?”
“Yes, hopefully.”
“That’s fine by me. Just try to avoid coming at mealtimes. Sister Ingles is on with me, so if you see her, just tell her I said it would be fine. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“How’s the old devil doin’, Staff Nurse?” he asked with a chuckle, pushing his luck a bit.
“He’s on the mend, sir. His cuts and bruises are all fairly clean, but he might need physio on his shoulder and broken leg once he gets out. Not allowed to give out too much information on the phone. Can I tell him you’re coming in, sir? Who can I say called?”
“Tell him Robert’s going to pop in. I won’t stay too long. Just wanted to see with my own eyes that the daft old bugger’s still breathing!” Rob laughed.
“It’ll take more than a quad-bike accident to kill Fraser McEwan, rest assured, Robert. See you later.” The call ended.
Rob couldn’t see Fraser calling him back to Achravie because he’d fallen off a quad bike. Time to get a second opinion.
Fraser’s phone vibrated in Lorna’s inside breast pocket. Excusing herself, she rose from her desk at the front of the classroom where she was in the middle of an English lesson with Primary 4. She hastened into the corridor.
“Hello, Fraser McEwan’s phone. This is Lorna Cameron.” The phone hadn’t rung since Fraser told her to retrieve it from his house and use it to get Robbie MacLaine to come.
“”If you can’t talk, just say ‘sorry, wrong number’ and end this call, and phone me back as soon as it’s safe,” Rob said calmly and with authority.
“Robbie, is that you?”
“Can you talk safely?”
“Is it really you Robbie?” she asked, simultaneously stunned and relieved. “Where are you? Are you coming to Achravie? How did you get this number?”
Rob chuckled. “Calm down. Woman, you’ll do yerself a mischief. It is me and I’m in Achravie. Your call was in my call history. Where are you? We need to talk.”
“At the school where I teach. I can tell them I’m not feeling too well and get someone to cover for me. If you’re here in Achravie, you’ll not be safe if Bruce or his cronies find out.” She lowered her voice. “They gave Fraser a real beating, Robbie, left him for dead up by the castle. That’s why he asked me to phone you. A couple of tourists found him lying beside his quad bike. It was on its side, so they assumed he’d come off the road and fallen down the banking. Fraser told me it wasn’t an accident … that he was attacked by three of Bruce’s cronies. Everyone believes it was an accident, so he said to leave it that way for now.”
“They said at the hospital it was an accident, but I thought that sounded a bit strange for Fraser to plead with me to cone back, just ‘cause he fell.”
“You’ve been to the hospital?” Lorna’s voice conveyed dismay. “You shouldn’t have done that! If they find out you’re here, they’ll come looking for you.”
“I didn’t go in, just phoned to see how he was. I told Staff Nurse Anderson that I was his nephew, Robert. She’ll tell him I’ll be visiting later.”
“You shouldn’t go in. They’ll come after you. These are vicious people who beat up people for the fun of it. I need to get back to my class, but let me arrange cover and I’ll meet you in about half an hour.”
“If these guys are as dangerous as you say, we shouldn’t be seen together just yet. Can you go to the hospital and tell Fraser that I’m here, and that I’ll touch base with him when I think it’s safe? When you’ve done that and it’s safe to talk, call me back. We’ll meet up later.”
“Need to go. Catch you later.”
Lorna hadn’t seen or spoken to Robbie since he’d left the island those many years ago. She’d been devastated by the accident and the aftermath which ended in his departure. She hadn’t even known he had gone till Fraser had told her about three weeks later. He said it wasn’t Robbie’s decision and that his father had insisted he leave quickly and quietly, no preparation and no goodbyes.
Fraser had taken Robbie to Glasgow and had pulled a few strings, as ex-Regimental Sargent Majors could, and had fast-tracked an application for Robbie to join the Black Watch. He’d stayed with Robbie till he was ready to leave for Inverness, all of this with his father’s direction. He’d wanted Robbie off the island and knew that the military would guarantee Robbie a home, an income, and a career as long as he applied himself. With Fraser’s contacts, he’d been able to get occasional feedback on Robbie during the early years, but Robbie had gotten lost in the fog of security that had descended on the military when threats of terrorism grew.
Fraser had always been adamant that Robbie hadn’t been driving that fateful night and Lorna had sensed he was right. Fraser was cetrain Bruce had been driving and had covered that up by blaming a very drunk Robbie.
She knew Bruce through her close friendship with Robbie and neither liked nor trusted him. One night, he’d backed her into a corner of a back hall in Hillcrest House and tried to lift the hem of her dress, and made to kiss her; she’d attempted to steer clear of him since. He’d been slightly drunk, but knew what he was doing, and had raced away when someone entered the hallway.
“All right class, I’m back, so settle down,” she said, clapping the way teachers did, as she stepped to the front of the classroom. “Carry on reading.”
She and Robbie had always been close, even in primary school, where they’d played together. As they matured over the years, that friendship had also matured. They were like brother and sister; there’d never been anything romantic or sexual. When they kissed, they kissed as friends, not lovers, but they’d loved each other, of that there was no doubt.
Lorna felt as if part of her world had collapsed when Fraser had broken it to her that Robbie was gone. Looking back, it seemed as if she’d cried for weeks; it was hard to believe that her best friend was gone. It was as if he’d died, only worse, because she knew that he was alive, but she might never see him again. A tear trickled down her cheek as she thought about these dark days.
Now, he was back.
9
Rob put down the phone. It was strange talking to Lorna after all this time. Suddenly, he realised that he knew nothing about her now, apart from the fact that she was a teacher. Was she married? Did she have children? What did she look like now that she was almost twice the age she’d been when he’d last seen her that fateful, life-changing evening?
Lorna had told him to take it easy on the lager that night, but his enthusiasm for the celebrations had gone to his head as much as the drink. He’d simply smiled and said, “I’ll be fine.” Right. Twenty-four hours later, he was in a hospital bed, his father accusing him of causing an accident that had killed a young girl. Forty-eight hours later, he was in a Glasgow hotel room, disowned by family, cut off from friends, and ordered to stay away from Achravie and to contact no one. Not even Lorna.
Now, he was back.
Sitting in the Four Seasons café on Achravie’s Main Street, Rob felt the better for a hearty steak pie, chips and veg, washed down with a pot of sweet Moroccan mint tea, courtesy of Teapigs. He pondered his next move, but decided more background details were needed before making any decisions. He still didn’t understand why Bruce’s “cronies” would “give Fraser a real beating”. Who were these mysterious, vicious people?
“Can I get you anything else?” asked an attractive, plump waitress as she passed his table.
“I think I’m good.” He liked the friendly smile on the waitress’ pleasant, chubby face and responded in kind. “Just my bill, please.”
She offered another smile and told him to pay on the way out. As Rob approached the till, a man exited the kitchen wearing chef whites and a slightly grubby apron. “Everything okay?” he asked nonchalantly as he handed Rob a bill. “That’ll be £9.60, please.”
Rob nodded and handed him a £20 note.
“Bank of England” the man noted. “I thought I heard an accent that wasn’t local. You here on business or just t
ouring around?”
“Bit of both.” He decided to offer his new cover. “I’ve just landed a new job at an outward-bound training centre north of Blackwaterfoot and decided to come up early and have a look around. I’ve never been before and everyone I’ve spoken to said it was lovely. You know what? They were right.”
“Aye, it’s beautiful countryside. Are you staying at the centre at Machrie?”
“One and the same. I was going to head back there tonight, but someone told me about the old castle and the standing stones,” he explained with a casual smile. “Maybe I’ll stay the night and do some exploring. Any particular place you’d recommend for the night?”
“Red Lion’s as good as any, if not better. He’s converted the old stables into four wee cottage rooms. If you get one of these, you’ll do well for yourself.” He winked. “Tell them Billy Templeton sent you over—might just swing one of them for you.”
Billy Templeton indeed. Rob hadn’t recognised him. He’d been in his last year at school when Rob was in his first year. More to the point, however, Templeton hadn’t recognised him.
Rob approached the Red Lion with trepidation, but he had to push the boat out, see how well his altered appearance would hide his identity from someone who knew him better than Billy Templeton. He pushed through the front door and into the small front hall, which housed the little corner reception desk. There was no one there, so he obeyed the little notice and rang the bell for attention.
“Hello, sorry to keep you waiting. What can I do for you?” asked a short, buxom young woman who suddenly appeared from somewhere. A small plastic name badge said she was Lizzie. That meant that she had to be landlord Hamish Allen’s daughter.
She’d been in Rob’s class at school. He’d taken her out a couple of times, but her heart had been elsewhere. Thin Lizzie the boys had called her back then, but the Lizzie who stood before him was more Ample-Busted Lizzie, but still attractive. She smiled without a flicker of recognition.
