I did as I was told.
He joined me and began a thorough examination. He spent time on my eyes and mouth and he prodded and poked me all over without saying a word. I sat rigid, staring ahead, hating every minute of it, hating his touch – and he knew it. Eventually he sat down and gazed at me. I didn’t wait for permission; I started putting my clothes back on.
‘I haven’t finished yet,’ he said quietly.
I stopped midway and dropped my arms. I was alone with him on his territory, with no voice. He could ask and do what he liked. I was taller and younger, but he was fitter and probably stronger. I could struggle but he could win. In that moment, my nightmare was a reality once more.
‘Put your trousers on,’ he said, still quietly, ‘and your vest, but nothing else; there’s something else I need to do. Wait a moment.’ He disappeared back into his surgery. I dressed hurriedly.
When he returned he was carrying a small metal tray of packets and syringes. ‘I’ll need to use the old-fashioned way,’ he said. ‘It’s brutal but more immediate.’ He pulled out a syringe. ‘Still, you’re no stranger to needles so it shouldn’t worry you.’
He paused and looked at me. The look of terror must still have been on my face. He grinned broadly. ‘I told you, you weren’t my type,’ he said, taking my arm. He punctured it quickly and I winced. ‘Brave boy,’ he said sarcastically, as he dabbed my arm with a sharp smelling lotion.
He sat back down in front of me. ‘Judith must be the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met,’ he said. ‘If she won’t listen to my advice, I guess I must resort to more devious solutions. I’ve just given you a flu jab; hopefully, it’ll protect you. God knows what I would do if you came down with the flu. I’m just a humble GP.’
I rubbed my sore arm ruefully. ‘You know, David, this is a safe place for you.’ I stopped rubbing and looked at him, puzzled. ‘You can speak to me here and Judith need never know. Even if I told her she wouldn’t believe me.’ I put on my neutral face. ‘Why not speak, David? There are things I need to know about you, ways I can help you. No one need know.’ I didn’t move; I remained neutral.
He sighed and took my hand in his. I flinched and pulled my hand back, but not before he had slipped something into it.
I looked down. It was another bottle of eye drops. I held the bottle in my hand, moving it about, rolling it, feeling it, knowing the relief it could give me from the gritty pain in my eyes. And then I placed it carefully on the table beside me and stood up. I picked up my crutch and left his surgery.
He followed me out and back to the house where we had left Judith. ‘If Judith’s the most stubborn woman I’ve ever met, you must be the most stubborn man,’ he said.
I simply smiled.
Chapter 16
Judith took me to visit Sonia’s father. He was, by all accounts, a godless man and so high on her list of causes.
Sonia fussed when we arrived, then she and Judith disappeared into the kitchen leaving me alone with the godless man. He peered at me. ‘I hear you’re the Devil’s Child,’ he rasped.
I gave him my best smile.
‘You certainly look the part!’ he said with a grunt.
If I looked like the Devil’s Child then he must be some sort of cousin. He was bent, angular and cross. I doubt he could remember how to smile, and every other word was an oath. He had nothing good to say about anybody and sat there abusing all of his neighbours, telling me of scandalous – and frankly rather dubious – activities across the village.
Judith came in with tea.
‘Does your toy boy play draughts or cards or something?’ he asked hopefully.
‘No, he doesn’t!’ she said sharply. ‘And he’s not my toy boy. He’s only a few years younger than me.’
A look of disbelief and amusement passed over his face. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Why can’t he play with me?’
Judith was standing next to me. Gently she stroked my hair. ‘He’s rather special,’ she said smugly.
‘Special? What does that mean?’
‘Special, you know?’ She hesitated, ‘a little backward.’
He groaned. ‘You mean he’s a retard?’ he spat.
‘Yes.’ She glared at him. ‘So, Donald, do you want to make something of it?’
‘Not much good for anything really then.’
‘Not really, Father,’ said Sonia rather vindictively from the doorway. She bustled in to where he sat hunched up in his chair. She ruffled, cuffed and scolded him. He took this meekly enough and immediately shut up – but only for as long as she was in the room.
When Judith and Sonia disappeared back into the kitchen and left us alone once more, he leaned towards me conspiratorially. ‘My daughter’s a frigid little tart who needs a good thrust,’ he whispered with a wicked grin. Then he sat back and looked me up and down ‘... and I hear you prefer boys!’ he added with contempt.
I enjoyed his company immensely. It was the most fun I’d had for a long time. Unfortunately, Judith guessed as much and never took me again.
***********************
A few days later, Andrew and Judith were discussing Sonia. Judith was very excited; she was convinced that a wedding was imminent. ‘It’s so good for Sonia,’ she exclaimed. ‘Couldn’t be better, a perfect match. A man of God. Oh, lucky Sonia!’
‘He hasn’t actually proposed yet,’ Andrew said levelly.
‘Oh, but he will. You should see the way he looks at her!’
This was true. I had seen it, sitting in the kirk, trying not to listen to him. He was not a comfortable preacher; he preferred the fire and brimstone approach; his God was an angry God, a vindictive God. He spoke passionately. He spoke well. He was terrifying, and I’m sure most of the time he was aiming his anger at me; perhaps everyone felt it was personal, perhaps not. Sometimes, when he dwelt on sodomy, I felt his eyes drawn towards me and Judith move uncomfortably as he did so.
But when he was not preaching, when we were singing or he was moving around his flock, then I would notice how his eyes constantly shifted in Sonia’s direction. It was a look both ardent and intense. It was not so much that he was in love as obsessed with her.
‘There’s her father to consider,’ Andrew said.
‘Oh, he’ll soon sort Donald out.’
He shook his head doubtfully.
‘You should be pleased for her; she deserves something.’
‘She deserves better,’ he said.
I looked at him in surprise, so did Judith. ‘Whatever do you mean? What could be better than ...’
‘A pompous, arrogant fool in black? Why, you tell me!’
‘Andrew!’ Judith was outraged. She obviously didn’t agree with him.
Neither did I; Fraser Drummond was no fool.
Chapter 17
July 2037
Andrew was coming to visit again; the chessboard was out and I sat looking at it longingly. Judith bustled in. ‘Don’t go touching anything, David dear,’ she said. She stroked my hair and kissed me gently on the cheek. I grabbed her from behind and she slapped me down. ‘Not now!’ she said. She was right; Andrew had just knocked on the door.
After dinner and chess he sat drinking his wee dram watching me, as usual. ‘Judith, we need to talk,’ he said. He was speaking in Gaelic. I knew what that meant; he wanted to talk about me. Judith realised too; she bristled. ‘This is important,’ he said.
‘You always say that.’
‘And it is.’
‘I doubt it.’
‘It concerns David’s safety.’
‘It always does, but we seem to manage.’
He sighed. ‘Have you ever heard of Section Twenty-six?’ he asked.
‘No, sounds pretty boring to me.’
‘It’s a piece of English legislation.’
‘Nothing to do with us then.’
‘No, it isn’t, but it soon may be.’
I glanced across at him. I had been sitting slumped, gazing out of the window trying not to be involved. I had ceased to ca
re what Andrew might say, and in any case Judith never listened to him.
She was silent.
‘Can I tell you about it?’
She pursed her lips. ‘You’re going to anyway.’
That was all the encouragement he needed. ‘Section Twenty-six is part of an old piece of equality legislation from the beginning of the century. But it has taken on a life all of its own. In England, whole departments are now dedicated to implementing and monitoring it. It is one of the most successful pieces of legislation in recent years. It is said that this piece of legislation alone has guaranteed that the present English government will win the next general election this year.’
She looked interested. ‘Why? How can one piece of legislation do that?’
He smiled; he had her interested; that was all he needed. ‘Because it has made such a difference to the lives of ordinary people,’ he said. ‘The government decided it was time to take a completely different approach to some of society’s most intractable problems. When they carried out research they found out a number of things.’ He lifted his hand and began ticking them off.
‘First, they found that petty crime – such as vandalism, drunkenness, rowdy and anti-social behaviour – were all said to create more misery, fear and anger amongst ordinary law-abiding people than the more serious crimes – such as rape or murder – simply because people were having to deal with it on a daily basis.
‘Second, that these minor offences often led to the major ones; failure to tackle the small stuff could, and did, lead people to commit serious crimes.
‘And third, crime and bad behaviour ran in families. People who abused children were themselves once abused; young people who took drugs were often from families who took drugs.
‘So they brought in Section Twenty-six and, within a few years, the petty crime rate has dropped to almost nothing, the cycle of abuse is being broken and prisons are no longer being filled with young offenders starting their life in crime. The result has been swift and astonishing. It has taken everybody by surprise and, as I say, it has guaranteed the next general election.’
‘But how have they done it?’ she asked, interested, despite herself.
‘Section Twenty-six was first introduced back in 2023,’ he said, taking a large mouthful of whisky. ‘It was a relatively mild piece of legislation at the time but over the years it has grown. As the importance of the ID card has increased and our reliance on it has grown, Section Twenty-six has been modified and its powers increased.’
He paused to gather his thoughts and then continued. ‘Basically, it has passed all power over to the state. It has always been assumed before that the best place for the child was with its own family. That assumption has been swept away by research. Often, the last place a vulnerable child is safe is in the home of a family addicted to abuse, drugs or alcohol – or, in some cases, all three.’
Judith stole a glance across at me. I wasn’t looking at her. I was still sitting slumped in my chair, staring down, but I knew she was looking at me.
‘Now, any child at risk is removed from the family, no questions asked, no right of appeal. It’s quick and complete. The child is taken away, given a new IDC with a new name and a new family. The original family is not allowed to search for their child and the child is not given any details about their family. They are not allowed to know anything until they are twenty-five and then they can apply for the information if they wish. It appears no one ever does.’
‘How can you know that?’ asked Judith sharply. ‘This has been going since 2023; that’s only fourteen years; surely, it’s too soon to say?’
‘Except, this legislation defines anyone at risk as anyone under the age of twenty-five; that’s the crucial age. Anyone who comes under the act can be safeguarded by it until they are twenty-five. They’re also restricted by it; they can’t vote or marry without permission until then – older if the disability is a mental one.’
‘Disability? What has that got to do with anything?’
‘The original Twenty-six was aimed at young people with severe disabilities; then the definition broadened and now includes lesser disabilities. It started with young people with criminal convictions and now includes anyone with a history of bad behaviour or truancy at school. It once defined unacceptable sexual behaviour as underage sex; it now includes homosexuals. The list, I can assure you, is quite broad.’
Judith was frowning. ‘This is all very interesting, but I still don’t see what this has to do with David?’
‘Section Twenty-six is coming to Scotland.’
I flinched. I couldn’t help it. It was the worst possible news.
Judith put on her face, the one we both knew so well. ‘So?’
‘Judith, don’t do this to me. Don’t do this to David.’
‘I don’t know what you mean?’
‘David will come under Section Twenty-six – or whatever it is they chose to call it here in Scotland.’
‘I don’t see why. He’s not under twenty-five. He’s at least thirty-five, if not older.’
‘You’re not listening! I said that anyone with a mental disability is not bound by that age and, anyway, we don’t know that there will be an age criteria. England is talking about removing it. It’s proved so successful and popular, they’ll almost certainly raise if not remove it altogether.’
‘David doesn’t have a mental disability; he’s just a bit backward and, as you say, the legislation hasn’t come into place yet – and when it does, it’ll take a long time to filter right up to the Highlands. They’ll almost certainly concentrate on the cities, first.’
Andrew sighed. ‘That all gives us time, but we need to find ways to protect David.’
‘How?’
‘He needs help. You know that.’
‘He has me.’
‘One day they’ll come and take him away from you.’
‘How will they know he’s here? Will you tell them? They haven’t found him yet, have they?’
He sighed again. ‘The reason I know so much about it is because of my sister.’
‘Gill? Why? What has she to do with all this?’
Andrew’s sister, Gillian, was a GP in Newcastle. He often went to visit her.
‘No one involved in care can escape knowing all about it. If a child or young person comes to her with bruises more than once in a twelve-month period, she has to report it to social care. She has a whole raft of things she has to do now that never existed before. Once someone comes under Section Twenty-six, they’re cared for by the state. She never sees them again.’
‘It is that successful?’ she asked.
‘It would appear so.’
‘So, it will come here.’
‘It’s only a matter of time.’
‘What do you want me to do?’
Andrew moved in close to her; even though they were talking in Gaelic, he still lowered his voice. ‘David must give himself up to the police.’
‘No!’
‘It’s better if he did it now. Now, we would have some control over what happened. We could get his leg sorted ...’
‘No!’
‘Do you really have so little faith in him? Do you really think he has done such terrible things that mean he’ll spend the rest of his life in prison? He wouldn’t stand alone. He’d have you, me and numerous other people in the village who would all speak out for him. The chances are, he’s wanted for some minor crime. He might never serve time. If you do it now, you have a chance. If you wait, then Section Twenty-six will take it out of your hands and you’ll never see him again.’
Judith bowed her head. For a while she was silent; at last she spoke. ‘Alright,’ she said. ‘I promise, I’ll speak to him.’
She never did.
Something else happened that changed everything completely.
***********************
That night I lay in bed, lying on my back with Judith’s head cradled in my arms. I held her close. I loved her so much. I didn�
��t want to lose my life with her. I remembered the day they buried my father.
***********************
I was blind at my father’s funeral. My memories are of sound and smell alone.
It was after the funeral and we were back at our house with our close friends and family. My brother was in the kitchen preparing my medicine for me. It would knock me out for several days – given my grief that was probably a good thing – and then I would wake up groggy but with my sight restored, partially at least.
Someone came to our door. We let them in – two men and a woman with soft persuasive voices. They said they wanted to take me somewhere safe.
My brother, who was not the most patient of men, exploded. He was grieving, what could you expect? He then confirmed all their worst suspicions by cursing and swearing at them and ordering them from the house.
They did as he requested, they went, but they took me with them, clutching my medicine. We had no choice. They said we could appeal. I was due to be married; they said that would make a difference, but still they took me.
They promised to give me my medicine as soon as we arrived at our destination.
We were only ten minutes from the house when they stopped the car and threw the medicine out of the window. Then they drove on.
I never saw my family again. And now they were going to do it to me once more.
Chapter 18
August 2037
It was cold, despite the fact that it was summer. It was late at night and a bitter wind blew down from the mountains. I had both crutches and I was spinning down the hill to the village. I swear I have never moved so fast. I was at the doctor’s house and banging on his door and ringing his bell. I pounded until, eventually, the door was opened.
‘David!’ A dishevelled Andrew stood framed in his doorway looking at me in astonishment. I grabbed his arm and began to tug at him. I pointed up the hill. ‘What is it, David?’
The fool! Did he still think I was pretending? Even now? I pulled at him and pointed again.
‘Is it Judith?’
I nodded.
Finally, he understood.
The Dream Catcher Diaries Page 18
