Ledmore Junction

by Ian Todd

  The conversation hid started oot pleasantly enough. He’d sat there, hitting her wae wee anecdotal stories ae who wis daeing whit tae who, within the business fraternity in the toon. It hidnae taken her two minutes tae suss oot that he wis up tae something though. Despite trying tae draw oot whit he wis efter, he’d sat there ducking and diving, changing the subject whenever she’d slung oot a wee baited hook. She’d known him…naw, known ae him…fur years. He’d been the only man in the association’s history that hid been elected chairman ten years in a row. Nae mean feat in a shark-infested pool like Glesga. Because ae that, he’d been made president fur life. Due tae the self-promoted publicity, he’d then become the first association chairmen tae be knighted in the history ae the boys’ club. The Glesga Echo hid said that the honour hid been bestowed oan him fur services tae business and enterprise in the toon. Him and Sir Shuggie Fraser wur up each other’s arses, which made him extremely powerful. He hid his finger oan the pulse and made it his mission in life tae know whit wis gaun oan in the toon…or so he thought. When he’d first turned his attention tae her, trying tae get her tae form the first businesswummin’s association, an offshoot ae the boys’ club, she’d managed tae deflect that honour oan tae somewan else. Of course, she’d agreed tae help oot behind the scenes in setting it up, alang wae a wee cheque tae get the baw rolling. It hid been ‘her selfless hidden role’ that he’d used in swaying the judges…aw men…tae make sure she walked away wae The Glesga Businesswummin ae The Year vote the previous year. He’d also quoted that ‘selfless’ line, in praising her as a well-deserved winner at the awards ceremony. Christ, fur a minute or two, before she’d gone up tae collect the winner’s shield, she’d actually believed aw the shite he’d been spouting aboot her. At the time ae his approach tae her aboot setting up and running the businesswummin’s association, she hidnae felt confident enough tae lift her heid above the parapet, no wae some ae the businesses she’d been involved in doon through the years. The Big Man, Pat Molloy, hid goat oan tae her fur a missed opportunity the last time she’d spoken tae him, during wan ae his flying visits fae Spain, before the bombing ae The Carlton Club back in February by they filthy McGregor basturts.

  “Ach, Donna, if ye want tae compete wae the big boys, ye hiv tae become wan ae them,” he’d said tae her. “Ye cannae operate in the shadows furever. No wae the turno’er that you’re generating. It’s the toon. People talk.”

  She knew that he’d been right, bit the timing hid tae be oan her terms. She knew fine well that the only reason Sir Martin Blake hid been elected so many times as chairman ae the association, wis because ae who his pals wur. That’s whit hid put her aff…that and the fact that he wid’ve shagged a barber’s flair, and probably hid. Christ, he’d even hid the cheek tae slip that haun ae his up her skirt and grope her arse during her modest acceptance speech, the clatty basturt. Thank Christ she’d been staunin in front ae a wooden podium tae hide whit hid been happening tae that arse ae hers. Mind you, if it hid been anywan else, she might’ve been flattered. It widnae hiv been the first time, doon through the years, that she’d hid a wee dalliance. Other than resembling a greasy, fat toad, Sir Martin Blake and Shuggie Fraser, alang wae a bunch ae other crabs, aw the business elite in the toon, wur never oot ae The Chevalier Casino up oan Buchanan Street. Unfortunately fur her, Sir Martin hid no known association wae any ae the bears operating in the toon, like The Big Man or Papa McGregor’s boys across in Govan.

  “Sorry about that, Donna. My stomach is so sensitive when it comes to foreign food,” he’d mumbled, when he’d returned tae the table, the fat greasy basturt.

  “Aw, don’t you worry, Martin, dear. Ah wis jist sitting here worrying whether Ah should send in wan ae the waiters tae see if ye wur still wae us. If ye want, we could jist call it a night and meet up some other time?”

  “No, no, Donna. Thank you for your concern. I’m fine now.”

  She’d known fine well whit he’d been aboot tae hit her wae, even before the words hid tumbled oot ae that gub ae his. Annie Rex-Elliot, the stupid auld bat that she’d convinced tae become the first chairwummin ae the businesswummin’s association hid died in her sleep the week before under suspicious circumstances. She’d been celebrating the second anniversary ae her marriage tae her fifth husband, who wis thirty five years younger than her. That new man ae hers wis sitting up in The Bar-L oan remand, accused ae poisoning her.

  “Terrible business,” Mr Toad hid tutted, before adding. “But the show must go on, eh?”

  Wee Pearl’s timing hid been perfect in wance sense, bit oan the other haun?

  “Having asked around about a possible replacement, your name kept coming up, Donna,” he’d said.

  “Well, as much as Ah’d be honoured…” she wis jist replying, when she’d been put oan the spot by no wan, bit two interruptions.

  “I shouldn’t really be saying this, Donna, but as president of the business association, I was recently asked to put forward a name…a nomination, for consideration in the New Year’s honours list…”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to interrupt, Mrs Jeffs, but your daughter’s on the phone. She says that it’s an emergency…er, seemingly, your house is on fire,” the maître d hid said, trying tae keep his composure intact, looking as if he’d jist announced tae her that the Titanic wis sinking fast.

  “Oh, whit…er…Ach, Ah’m sure that that Fraser ae mine will be able tae take care ae that. Kin ye jist tell her that Ah’m still engaged in an important business meal and Ah cannae come tae the phone. Ah’ll be hame as quick as Ah kin,” she’d purred coolly, lighting up a fag, as baith the heid honcho and The El Presidente looked at her as if she wis mad, before Julio scurried aff back tae the phone tae convey her response.

  “Aye, as Ah wis jist saying, before we wur interrupted, Martin, as much as Ah’d be honoured, Ah’m sure there wid be far mair qualified people oot there than the likes ae me, tae take o’er the chairmanship fae poor Mrs Rex-Elliot.”

  “Nonsense, Donna…you’re exactly what’s required. You’re beautiful, modest and very successful.”

  “Ach, away ye go, Martin, ya big beastly charmer, ye. Ye’re gonnae hiv me blushing in a minute noo, so ye ur,” she’d tittered like some wee floozy, flickering they false eyelashes ae hers across the table at him.

  “Anyhow, where was I…”

  “Something aboot the Queen’s honours list…”

  “Oh, yes. Look, as President, I get asked regularly to nominate someone who has demonstrated outstanding achievement in their field and who is an example to others. You fit that description down to a T, Donna.”

  “Ach, see whit Ah telt ye? Ye’ve goat me blushing noo,” she’d exclaimed, waving that haun ae hers aboot in front ae her face, no acting noo and trying no tae pish hersel wae excitement. “Ah’m jist a wee Glesga hoosewife who’s jist trying tae get by as best Ah kin…while trying tae help those less fortunate than masel,” she’d added fur good measure.

  “Nonsense, Donna.”

  “So, this honour fae the Queen, who probably disnae realise that Ah’m wan ae her biggest fans, by the way, whit’s aw that aboot? Ah’ve heard ae them, bit never gied them much thought.”

  “I’ve been asked to nominate someone…a lady, within the business community for a BEM…the British Empire Medal…for services to business enterprise and as an example for others. You’re that person, Donna. Mind you, it would give the nomination a bit of traction if I was to say that not only were you behind setting up the businesswomen’s association, but that you were the existing chairman.”

  “Ach, see you, Sir Martin Blake, whit ur ye like? Look, Ah suppose Ah could gie it a shot fur a wee while,” she’d reluctantly agreed. “Bit Ah’m telling ye right noo, Ah’ll be expecting advice and guidance fae somewan as knowledgeable as the likes ae you tae keep me oan the straight and narrow, so Ah will.”

  By the time she’d goat hame, she couldnae remember the name ae the award or the exact words Sir Martin hid used, she’d been that excited. Fras
er hid telt her that she wis aff her heid and hid gone tae his bed wance the fitba hid finished oan the telly.

  “Aye, ye’re right, Fraser. Ah must be. Ah married somewan like you.”

  She’d nipped in by the local library oan the way intae work. Susan Thom, the wee assistant, hid gone and goat a book and showed her whit it aw meant. Christ, she’d be able tae put BEM efter her name and oan the letterheids ae the business. She widnae be able tae tell anywan aboot her award or hiv a good night’s kip between then and the New Year. That’s how bad it wis, she wis jist thinking tae hersel, when the chair opposite her scraped oot fae under the table. The chookter in the checked plus-fours wis back in her reality.

  “Sorry for that, Mrs Jeffs. It was a long train journey,” he said, apologising.

  “Ach, don’t you worry, Mr MacLeod, we’ve aw been there. Noo then, yer letter didnae say much, other than ye wanted tae treat me tae a wee business lunch tae discuss a proposition that wid be mutually beneficial tae me and the company ye represent.”

  “You have it in one, Mrs Jeffs.”

  “Look, ma name’s Donna. Please, everywan else calls me that.”

  “Oh right…well, I’ll chust come to the point, then. I believe that Blytheswood Investments Limited, a company that you’re the sole director of, purchased a small croft in Lochinver recently. Would that be correct?”

  “If you say so,” she replied guardedly.

  “The company which I represent…”

  “Whit is it called again?”

  “Assynt Development Holdings,” he replied, before continuing. “We, as a company, have been developing the local tourism market, for the economic benefit of the community, to bring much needed employment to the area, for some years now. Our substantial investment has included properties, premises and businesses in Lochinver itself as well as property in the more rural areas of Assynt. Our expertise is in the fishing and shooting market. The properties we take over, after sympathetic renovation, are converted into holiday lodges. Given our locality and the lack of quality accommodation, for people wishing to enjoy and take advantage of our natural and beautiful heritage, the demand for quality accommodation far exceeds what is currently available. Another issue for us as a company, is the sudden development of the oil and gas sector at Nigg, on the east coast. This development has unfortunately shrunk an already small housing market and has had a major impact on our ability to continue to expand and meet the growing demand. Our land management factors, Galbraith’s, was already in discussion with a Miss Angelina MacLeod, a local maid who went south some years ago and who now lives and works in Glasgow. Miss MacLeod entered into a gentlemen’s agreement to sell Little Vestey’s Croft, along with its one hundred and seventy acres of land to Assynt Development Holdings. Unfortunately, for whatever reason, Miss MacLeod changed her mind and sold the property to Blytheswood Holdings Limited, despite what we believed to be a very generous offer...well over the market value for the property.”

  “Well, Ah cannae speak oan behauf ae Miss MacLeod or why she didnae sell the property tae your company, Mr MacLeod. Ah entered intae negotiations wae Miss MacLeod in good faith, also offering o’er the market value. Ah wis aware that there wis another interested party. Ma generous offer reflected this. Ah wis, of course, delighted that ma offer wis accepted and we wur able tae acquire it.”

  “Would you mind disclosing how much you paid for the property?”

  “Aye.”

  “I see. Galbraith’s, as our agent, offered three thousand pounds plus legal costs. Would you be prepared to come to an arrangement with Assynt Development Holdings, that would be beneficial to both sides?”

  “Well, given that Ah’ve only recently purchased the property, Ah’m no inclined tae gie it up, if that’s whit ye’re asking.”

  “If we were to offer you four thousand sterling, plus legal costs, would that help you to change your mind?” he asked confidently, a wee flicker ae a smile cracking open that ruddy face ae his.

  “Naw,” Donna replied, freezing the smile instantly.

  “Then what would convince you?”

  “Nothing wid. That croft, although purchased through the company, is fur ma man’s retirement. He’s a keen angler and intends tae get mair involved noo that he’s given up work. Ah also hope tae partake ae the beautiful scenery that ye mentioned, so Ah hope tae join ma husband. While he’s away fishing wae the boys, Ah’ll be sitting there daeing ma painting…a wee hobby ae mine,” she added, lying like the seasoned trooper that she wis. “There’s a young couple currently living there. Ah’ve never met them masel, bit Miss MacLeod said that they’re nice and quiet and keep themsels tae themsels. Wan ae ma solicitors his been in touch wae them tae let them know that they kin hiv a further six month let oan the place. It’s pointless no tae generate a wee bit ae income fae ma investment, seeing as there’s quite a bit ae building renovation required, which we won’t start until the New Year. Sorry that ye’ve wasted yer journey, Mr MacLeod. Noo, then, Ah believe it’s your shout oan the lunch. This place is the best in the toon fur seafood. Ah’d recommend the clappy-doos,” she said, smiling sweetly.

  Chapter Forty Seven

  Johnboy hid deliberately kept the music switched aff, waiting fur the expected chap oan the door. He’d been waiting two days. He’d placed a bet wae Davey The Post, that it wid be PC Long Fuck Face and no MacLeod or any ae they boys ae his that wid come a-knocking. The Postie owed him a quid. He couldnae believe the basturts wur back tae their auld tricks again. Oan Monday, he hidnae been surprised tae see Senga’s car reversing back up the track tae the hoose.

  “Ah cannae get past. There’s a big lorry blocking the track, doon at the entrance tae the road,” she’d squealed in frustration.

  When he’d gone back doon wae her tae see fur himsel, sure enough, wan ae the Bedford trucks that MacLeod hid used fur taking the boxes ae fish up fae the beach, wis sitting there, locked up. No only that, bit the back end ae it wis loaded wae rubble. It wis impossible tae walk past it withoot stepping doon intae the wee ditches oan either side ae it. Luckily, fur Senga, Davey The Post hid been oan his way back fae Ewan and Iona MacLeod’s, efter drapping aff a package or something, so he’d gied her a lift in tae her work. She’d phoned Assynt Holdings fae the surgery and been telt that it wid be shifted sometime that day. Whoever she’d spoken tae hid claimed that the company wis daeing their bit fur the community by filling in the trench that Ewan MacLeod hid dug up. Seemingly, locals hid been complaining that they couldnae access the beach. In aw the time that they’d lived there, Johnboy hid never clocked anywan oan the track. It hidnae been the end ae the world, as Senga hid planned tae be in the surgery aw day. Also, Davey hid nipped doon tae her work and picked her up at five o’clock. It hid been Davey that hid alerted them the next morning that the lorry wis still there, efter parking up his van and walking alang the track tae offer Senga another lift. She’d been absolutely fuming as she’d been meant tae be oot and aboot seeing tae patients. She’d managed tae swop some ae the work wae her colleague. While Senga hid taken care ae Dolina’s local patients, Dolina hid visited Senga’s rural wans. Senga hid also phoned the cop shoap a few times, bit the phone hid jist kept ringing. She’d also nipped doon tae the wee polis office, bit it hid been locked up. Oan tap ae that, she’d warned Johnboy no tae get involved, in case he ended up daeing something stupid. Oan the Tuesday, he’d been across at Flintlock’s place, painting the last ae his vans that they’d been sprucing up. He awready knew aboot the truck still being there oan the second morning, as Davey The Post hid telt him when he wis roond at the caravan site delivering a letter.

  “Watch them, laddie. They won’t mess about.”

  He hidnae mentioned tae Flintlock that the basturts hid awready been up, tampering wae the water again. Senga hid asked whit wis happening, as there hid only been a trickle coming oot ae the taps. There hid been a heatwave fur the past month, the hottest oan record according tae Flintlock, so he’d assumed that the burn wis jist drying up wae
the lack ae rain. This time, they’d imbedded a big slab ae slate intae the wee burn at the point where it supplied the water tank. By the time he’d goat up there tae see whit the score wis, the water fae the burn hid been pishing doon the side ae the hill in aw directions. It hid taken him four hours tae dig the slate oot. If Davey The Post or Senga, fur that matter, expected somewan like him tae jist hing aboot watching whit wis gaun oan withoot retaliating, then they hid another think coming. Efter walking back across Achmelvich Beach and up oan tae the hill towards the crofthoose, he’d been fucking raging tae see the sun reflecting aff the windscreen ae the Bedford, further up the hill. It wis efter he’d kicked wan ae the tyres in frustration, while staunin there looking at it, that the solution hid hit him. He knew he’d need tae be careful and be oan they toes ae his. He’d nipped back tae the hoose and grabbed a box ae matches. They’d obviously chosen their parking spot carefully. The tyres ae the wagon wur practically hinging o’er the edge ae the track oan baith sides it, before the surface drapped away. Oan wan side, there wis aboot an eighteen inch drap while oan the other side, the side he’d decided tae let the tyres doon oan, there wis aboot a two tae three foot drap. He hidnae hid long tae wait tae see the results. Wae the weight and pressure ae the rubble sitting in the back ae it, baith tyres hid jist collapsed. The back tyre hid gone first, collapsing the tail end ae the wagon, leaving it lurching at an awkward angle, even before the tyre hid been fully deflated. His haun hid been shaking like a leaf, efter quickly nipping alang tae the front tyre and attempting tae jam the matchstick in the valve in wan go. He’d hid tae jump oot ae the way as the bottom ae the cabin passenger door end suddenly crashed doon oan tae the wheel hub. At first he hidnae been sure if his plan wis gonnae work, as the truck hid jist sat there at a precarious looking angle fur aboot a minute. Then the surface under the two flat wheels hid gied way and slid doon the wee embankment, taking tons ae the rubble fae the back ae the truck wae it, as the Bedford toppled o’er oan tae its side, clearing the track. He’d known Senga wid be mad ae him, bit he’d jist no been able tae help himsel. He’d sat in the car, across fae the surgery, waiting fur her tae finished her shift. Oan the way doon intae Lochinver, he’d nipped in by Davey’s tae tell him that the track wis clear. When she’d clocked him sitting there smiling, she’d jist aboot hid a heart attack, as she scurried across the road demanding that he shift intae the passenger seat before anywan, especially Ishbel MacKenzie, clocked him.