‘Nobody said anything about that, but I could take you.’
When she ran into the police station at Banff around half an hour later, the sergeant glared at the PC from Peterhead. ‘You weren’t told to take her here.’
‘I wasn’t told not to,’ the younger man defended himself.
‘He’s not in a fit state to see anybody.’
‘He’ll want to see me,’ Katie said, firmly.
‘Are you his sister?’ Sergeant Tait demanded.
‘He thinks I am.’ It was out before she realized how odd it must sound and felt obliged to explain why she and Sammy were together, adding that they could check with Sergeant Begg at Cullen if they didn’t believe her. ‘Now will you let me see him? He’ll be confused, and I’ll be able to calm him down.’
‘I’d advise you not to go near him, lass. He’s mad, ranting and raving and shouting for his mother.’
‘His mother?’ Katie was astounded, and hurt. ‘His mother’s dead, and anyway, she never had much to do with him. It’s me that’s looked after him for years, and I’d like to see him.’
‘Do you know why he’s been locked up?’
‘I suppose he was wandering round lost?’
‘He’d been showing himself to a thirteen-year-old lassie, and another two had reported him earlier for the same thing.’
‘Oh no! But I still want to see him.’
After more explanations about why she and Sammy had been together, she was told to wait until Sergeant Tait found out if the prisoner wanted to see her, and when he came back he was shaking his head. ‘I told him you were here but it’s his mother he wants, and he’s just like an animal. He’s punched my constable, and he’s kicked me a few times, and all. He’s not fit to be among ordinary folk. He belongs in an asylum.’
‘Please let me go to him,’ she begged. ‘He’ll be all right once he sees me.’
Shrugging, Sergeant Tait took her through to the cells, but even Katie could not get through to Sammy, and she could see for herself that his mind was completely gone. Sadly, she turned away. ‘What happens to him now?’ she asked, as she was led back to the desk.
‘Who’s responsible for him?’
‘Me, so the police at Cullen said. His father lives at the Howe of Fenty, near Huntly, but he doesn’t want him.’
‘There’s not much point in us charging him with indecency. We’ll have him certified by a doctor, but we’ll need your signature as well before he can be put away.’
‘Where would they put him?’
‘Ladysbridge, likely. It’s nearest.’
Having reluctantly appended her signature to a form, Katie was driven home by the Peterhead constable, who let her weep without saying anything, but when he stopped to let her out, he said, kindly, ‘It wasna your fault, lass. He’s far better locked away.’
She could not answer, and walked through the pend with tears streaming down her cheeks. When she went into the house, she made straight for her bedroom and flung herself down on the bed. How could she live with the guilt of having Sammy locked up? It was her fault. If she hadn’t been taken in by Dennis, Sammy would still be as innocent as when she first met him.
After another sleepless night, Katie dragged herself to the bakery and poured out her tale to Lottie, who let her customers wait until she had heard everything before she opened her shop. ‘I’d like to get a hold of Dennis McKay,’ she said, grimly. ‘I’d tell him what I thought of him, but he’ll get his just deserts some day.’
It was a full week before Katie felt any better. ‘I’d like to go to Ladysbridge,’ she told Lottie. ‘If Sammy’s settled in, I’ll let him stay there, but if he’s not happy, I’ll take him home with me.’
‘Well, I’d tell you to leave well alone, but you’ll not take my advice, so I’d better say nothing.’
Up at the crack of dawn the following day, Katie set off on the bus for Ladysbridge, just beyond Banff. She had some fruit and some sweets to give to Sammy, and was sure that he would be calmer and would be glad to see her. How could he forget her after what they had been through together? When she saw him last, he’d been muddled by being held in a cell, and likely the policemen had been rough with him when they picked him up on the street. She didn’t know if the asylum had strict visiting times, but was confident that whoever was in charge would allow her in once she explained the situation.
The superintendent was not available when she got there, but one of the attendants, soft-spoken and understanding, said that he thought it would be all right as long as she didn’t stay longer than fifteen minutes.
‘They get a bittie agitated after that,’ he explained.
When she entered the long room and saw the inmates, most of them old men with slavering mouths and vacant eyes, grinning slyly at her as she passed, their hands coming out to pull at her skirts, she was certain that Sammy did not belong there. He wasn’t nearly as bad as that – there had always been something in his eyes that had told of thoughts behind them. Shivering, she kept looking for him, but it wasn’t until she came to the far end that she found him. Holding out her hand, she said, ‘Hello, Sammy.’
When he lifted his head, she was alarmed to see that his eyes were as vacant as all the rest. ‘It’s Katie,’ she told him. ‘You remember me, don’t you?’
Slowly he shook his head, and she sat down beside him. ‘I brought some sweeties for you, and some apples and bananas.’
There was still no sign of recognition, nor anything else, but she persevered. ‘I got jelly babies, for I know you like them.’ She took one from the bag and held it out, but his hands stayed in his lap. ‘Do you want to come home with me to your own room, and …’ Trying to think of something to jog his memory, she went on, ‘And your clock, and your teddy bear? Remember? They’re both waiting for you.’
It was like talking to a brick wall, but she did not give up. ‘And the gardens’ll be full of weeds. Jackie needs you to tell him what to do.’
His head had gone down again, and she burst out, ‘Sammy, you must remember. We ran away together. We ate berries. We slept in barns.’
He gave no sign that he had heard. ‘Do you not remember the farm?’ she persisted. ‘Mrs Sutherland?’
There was not even a faint movement at the mention of the woman who had been so kind to him. ‘She danced with you one Hogmanay, remember? When we were all in the kitchen having a good time?’
Recalling what had happened after that, Katie thought it wisest not to pursue it any further. ‘Oh, Sammy, you must remember me. It’s Katie. Katie.’
With no warning, he stood up and roared, ‘Mother! Mother!’
The attendant came running up and grabbed his arms. ‘It’s all right, lad, it’s all right. Just sit down and be good.’
Turning to Katie, he said, ‘He was shouting for his mother when he was brought in.’
‘His mother’s dead,’ she murmured, ‘and, any road, they were never very close.’
‘I think you should go now, lass. Once they get upset, it takes them a while to settle down again. He was a handful when he came in first … in a straitjacket for a couple of days, but he’s been quiet since … till just now.’
The implication that she was the cause of Sammy’s distress made Katie leave abruptly. When she reached the main road, she decided to walk to Banff to find out when she would get a bus to Peterhead, and if she had time, she would go into a café for a cup of tea. She needed something.
She didn’t feel the cold as she strode along head down. She could think of nothing but Sammy. If only she could take him home to his own room, to things he would recognize, he might get better … but she couldn’t cope with him the way he was. She couldn’t even cope with her own emotions at the present moment, never mind his, and her tortured mind turned to her grandfather. He would have advised her what to do.
She was on the outskirts of Banff when the sound of an engine made her look up to see a bus chugging towards her with BUCKIE on its destination board. Without stoppi
ng to think, she ran across the road and held up her hand for it to stop. As she jumped aboard, she was sure that it was no coincidence that a bus which went through Cullen should appear at that minute. It was Fate!
Her insides were churning wildly as she got off and stood watching the bus move away, then, her heartbeats drumming in her ears, she ran down the hill to Seatown and burst into the little house. ‘Where’s Granda?’ she demanded, not taking in the fact that it was unusual for her grandmother to be sitting by the fire in the middle of a forenoon. ‘I want to speak to him.’
Mary Ann’s startled eyes hardened. ‘You’ll have some job, then, for he’s been in the kirkyard this past three days.’
At first, Katie didn’t understand, and when comprehension did dawn, she shouted, ‘Granda can’t be dead! I need him!’
‘You should have let him ken, then,’ came the dry retort, ‘and he’d have held on till you came afore he passed ower.’
Almost hysterical, Katie collapsed into her grandfather’s chair, and the old woman waited for her harsh tearless sobs to stop. It was fully five minutes until they began to tail off and Mary Ann could say, gently, ‘I dinna suppose you’ll want to tell me … ?’
At a normal time, Katie would never have dreamt of telling her grandmother the things she heard herself saying, but they poured out of her like water from a burst dam – about everything except Dennis; she couldn’t bear to mention him – and the old woman listened until she came to a sobbing halt.
‘I suppose you think I’m shocked,’ Mary Ann remarked then, with the hint of a smile, ‘but at my age there’s little left to shock me. I ken’t that laddie would bring you nothing but trouble, and to tell you the truth, I some thought you’d end up bringing an imbecile bairn here. I’m glad you’d the sense to get rid o’ it. Dinna blame yourself for him being put in Ladysbridge. He’d likely have landed in some asylum or other come time, any road, for his kind aye grow worse the older they get.’
‘Is that true, Grandma, or are you just trying to stop me feeling guilty?’
‘I thought you ken’t me better than need to ask that.’
She should have known, Katie thought. Her grandmother had never been one for considering other people’s feelings. ‘I’m awful sorry about Granda,’ she murmured, rather belatedly.
‘Aye, well, it’s a queer thing. Here’s me lost the man I wed near half a century ago, and you left without the man that’s been your companion for years. Was there a purpose to it? You wouldna think on … ?’
‘Are you asking me to come home again, Grandma?’ Katie could hardly believe it. ‘For good?’
‘I ken we never saw eye to eye about things, but we’d be company for each other.’
Katie couldn’t help a watery smile. ‘You mean you’d rather be fighting with me than sitting on your own?’
‘Something like that.’ Mary Ann had a twinkle in her eye.
‘I’d have to go back to Peterhead and work my notice to Lottie, and give up my house.’
‘I can wait another week or two.’ The twinkle was even more pronounced.
‘Well,’ Katie said, pensively, ‘there’s nothing for me there now, so I suppose … all right, then.’
It was no surprise to Katie that her grandmother let her go with no sign of affection. There had never been any, and she guessed that there never would be.
On Tuesday morning, after describing her experiences at Ladysbridge, Katie told Lottie that she was going back to live with her grandmother. ‘I’ll wait till you get another assistant, though.’
Her friend and employer looked at her sadly. ‘I’m going to miss you, Katie. Are you sure you’re doing the right thing?’
‘I’m not sure, and before I’m back a week, I’ll likely be wishing I hadn’t gone, but I think it’s what my Granda would have liked.’
‘Poor Sammy,’ Lottie said, suddenly. ‘I can’t get over him ending up like that.’
The house in Marischal Street having been furnished when Katie went in, all she had to do was ensure that the next tenant would have no complaints as to its cleanliness. She spent all her evenings scrubbing, polishing, laundering the bedding and curtains, and slept the last night on the couch with her coat over her.
In the morning, she handed the keys to Lottie, who was too busy to be sentimental over the parting. ‘You’ll write and tell me how you’re getting on?’
Katie hesitated. ‘I’d better not. I want to forget … but I’ll never forget you and your kindness.’
Smiling, Lottie held out her hand. ‘Good luck, lass.’
Katie kept a fixed smile on her face as she walked to the railway station carrying the cardboard box Bob McRuvie had given her to hold her belongings, but alone in the carriage, thoughts of her bleak future made her put her handkerchief to her eyes.
She was going home disillusioned with life – and there was no Granda now to shield her from her grandmother’s cutting tongue.
Part Three
Chapter Nineteen
On Katie’s first night back in Cullen, she felt a compulsion to let the Three Kings know of the tribulations that had beset her since she last spoke to them; only then would she feel free to take up the reins of her new life. Afraid that their magic might have worn off for her, she did not make her usual bee-line for them, but walked instead along the water’s edge – the blown spume wetting her hair and face – and waited until she was in line with them before turning to make her way up the shingle. As she came to each huge mass, each ‘friend’, she put her hand out to make contact with it, to remind it who she was. Her damp, unpinned hair was flying all over the place now, her skirts billowing up like a hot-air balloon ready to take off, and a lump rose in her throat at the old familiarity of it all.
When she ended the saga of her misfortunes, she said, ‘I don’t know if I should have come back. Grandma’ll soon start finding fault with me again, even though I’m older now. The trouble is, she’s older, and all, and I feel sorry for her now Granda’s gone. We’ll rub each other up the wrong way like we always did, but it’s just how we’re made. I think I must have a lot of her in me.’
Pausing briefly to consider this new thought, Katie gave an amused gurgle. ‘She wouldn’t be pleased to think we’ve got the same nature, and we haven’t really, for I can love other people, and I’m sure she’s never truly loved anybody in her life, not even Granda. Oh, I wish he was still here. He’d have known the right things to say so I wouldn’t feel so ashamed of putting Sammy away or letting Dennis make such a fool of me. I didn’t know there were men like him, and he must have laughed at me for being so easy taken in. But I’ve learned from it, and I’ll not be taken in again by any man.’
She shivered as the iciness of the winter evening finally pierced through all her layers of clothes. ‘I’d better go now, but I’ll be back, I promise.’
When she returned to the house, Mary Ann said, ‘I suppose you’ll be needing a cup of tea?’
‘Yes, please, but I’ll make it.’
‘I can manage, I can still boil the kettle and fill the teapot.’ Dropping her sarcasm, she barked, ‘You’ll have been along the shore?’
Having forgotten how quickly her grandmother’s mind could switch from one subject to another, Katie was taken aback by the abrupt question. ‘It’s my favourite walk,’ she said, a little defensively, then wished she had been more positive. They were in different positions now – she was doing Grandma the favour by living here, not the other way round.
‘You’ll need to stop your childish nonsense. Folk’ll think you’re off your head if they see you speaking to rocks.’
Katie sighed gustily. Nothing was changed. Nothing would ever change, no matter how old she was.
She was home before she realized that she hadn’t mentioned Mr Gunn to the Three Kings this time, not that it mattered. They couldn’t protect her from him if he turned up in Cullen. But would he come? He wouldn’t know Sammy was in Ladysbridge. He’d think they were still living together in Marischal
Street, and he wouldn’t risk going back there. He would likely never find out she had left … and even if he did, he wouldn’t know where she was.
As soon as she heard Angus drive off, Betty Gunn went up to the top floor. He had told her once that the garrets were just stores for old rubbish and she needn’t bother about them, and she had taken him at his word, but she was positive he had hidden the letter up there somewhere. He had taken it in his hand when he went upstairs and he’d gone right up the two flights of stairs, and she wanted to know what was in it that had upset him so much. He shouldn’t keep secrets from her. Jim had never kept anything from her in all the fifteen years they had been married.
She had something of a shock when she went into the first small room. Instead of the jumble of junk she had expected to find, there was a rumpled bed, the blankets flung back as if the occupant had left in a hurry. There was little else except a chair thick with dust and a trunk where the film of grey powder had recently been disturbed. Her heart racing, she went down on her knees to lift the lid, feeling like a thief as she rummaged through torn handkerchiefs and socks with big holes in the heels and toes. Then she came on some well-worn shirts, their necks far too small for her husband. At the bottom of the trunk were some boys’ comics, which, going by their dates, couldn’t have been his, either. Her perplexity deepened when she found some items that made her recall the things her brother had hoarded when he was a boy. Angus must surely have a young brother, but why had he never mentioned him?
Annoyed that her search had been in vain, Betty was trying to replace the contents exactly as she had found them when she noticed a bound slit in the striped twill lining – a secret pocket? Her stomach lurched as her fingers took out a sheet of paper as well as the envelope she was looking for, and trembling with guilty excitement, she sat back on her heels to read them.
The loose sheet looked as if it had been lying for some time, so she unfolded it first, and was amazed to see the name Katie written several times in her husband’s flamboyant hand, and at the foot, circled by an elaborate pattern of whorls and curlicues, he had written ‘Mrs Katie Gunn’. This shocked her. His first wife’s name had been Marguerite! Had he married again after she died? Had he committed bigamy when he married her, Betty?
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