The Borderlands (Book One): Journey

by Aderyn Wood

  The sky was the colour of pink roses. But a dark purple threatened in the east. It would be night soon. She would have to stop, now. But where?

  Most of the Clyde was banked by urban landscapes, full of people. Dale wanted to avoid close contact with others at all costs. She had no way of knowing whether the police were involved yet, and she didn’t want to leave any clues for Pastor Richard either.

  The boat floated around a large bend. For once there was no suburbia, no buildings, no people – just woodland.

  “Of course,” she muttered. “This must be Crowhill Wood.”

  She had studied the maps innumerable times and knew the landmarks quite well for someone who had never seen them before.

  It was a large wood, mostly uninhabited.

  “Yes, this will do for the night.”

  She furled the jib, pulled in the mainsail and turned the tiller; the little boat headed for the shore.

  As soon as it landed Cat jumped off onto the muddy bank. Dale wasn’t concerned. Cat would remain close. He always did. She got off herself and wondered what to do about the boat. Should she leave it banked? That might be too obvious; boats like this weren’t a common site on the Clyde’s shoreline. She decided to pull it up as far as she could manage. With a great effort, she moved it just past the tree line and lowered the mast.

  She walked further into the wood to make a little camp with a canvas. It was getting cold. A fire would be nice. She was far enough within the trees to hide the firelight, although the smoke might be detected. But no one would pay much attention to smoke. There were houses about a mile away; any smoke could just as easily come from them.

  She’d learnt well, from old Joan, the art of making a fire and she had a good one going as the final hues of twilight disappeared. Then she made a lean-to with the canvas, securing it between two birch trees. More memories came to her, of summers past when Gareth would sail them to a favourite fishing spot. He’d make a temporary shelter to protect them from the rain or the sun, just like the one she made now. She sniffed and tightened the ropes of the lean-to, then crawled in to make a bed out of the jib and another canvas. It wasn’t like her bed at home but it was warm and comfortable enough.

  Gareth’s cooking equipment was simple, a dinted pot and a small frying pan, but they would do the job. She put the pot on the fire to boil. Some tea would be comforting. Gareth loved tea.

  She took out two slices of bread and a piece of cheese and munched on a sandwich. Cat returned just as she made the tea, blinking when he saw the fire.

  “Been adventuring, Cat?”

  He leaped toward her and sniffed the food in her hand.

  “Hungry, are we?”

  Dale found a can of tuna and opened it, spilling the contents out on a large leaf. Cat devoured his dinner.

  “I only have one other can of tuna. I better get some more food for you.”

  Dale looked into the fire. Should she sail again tomorrow? It felt safe here. The camp was snug, surrounded by old oaks and pine trees that had dropped their needles. The smell of crushed pine filled the lean-to.

  Cat finished off most of the tuna and was now busy grooming, cleaning his nose with his paws. “Maybe we should stay another day, Cat. Then I can plan our trip more thoroughly.” She yawned. “Yes, I’ll look at our maps tomorrow.”

  She drank the rest of the tea and lay down on the make-do mattress. Sleep came within two heartbeats.

  Dale dreamed. She was swimming in a golden sea. Panic and fear threatened and she struggled to keep her head above water. Then the waves came – huge waves. Great mountains of golden water. One of them grew so large it dwarfed all others. She tried to swim away, but escape was futile. She could feel its drag, pulling her closer. Panicking, she turned her head to see it towering above. It had her; she was trapped. It drew her up and up to the crest and she knew she would be sucked in and slammed down again when it broke. Then the break came. The white water formed. Only it was golden, not white. She sensed the fall to come. She shut her eyes, Oh god!

  Her eyes opened and the stars shone through a small hole in the canvas. It was just a dream. She sat up, relieved, but even so her breathing was rapid, her heart pounded. The fire was out. But she felt warm. A glow came from the wood. She wondered what it was. It reminded her of something she had seen once before.

  She stood up, blinking. “Cat?” she called. But he didn’t come. Off exploring I suppose. She stumbled through her small camp. The glow came from further in the woods. She followed. It was a warm light and as she neared, it grew brighter until she came to a small clearing and saw a familiar little figure, wearing purple, dancing in the centre.

  “Hello, you’re back,” Dale said.

  The sprite turned and smiled at Dale, her little fangs clearly visible. She did another little dance and clapped her hands and gestured for Dale to come closer. Dale obeyed and walked toward her.

  The sprite’s large green eyes smiled at her. She started speaking. Her mouth formed words with no sound, only the crickets and the night birds could be heard.

  Dale shook her head. “I can’t hear you, little friend.”

  The sprite frowned. Then scratched her head, before shrugging and running off. The light disappeared with her.

  “Wait!” Dale yelled. “Please wait. Please come back.”

  But the light didn’t return. Dale shrugged, just as the little sprite had, and staggered in the moonlight, back to her bed.

  By the time Dale finished her tea the following morning she had decided two things: the sprite had been a dream, and she needed a solid plan.

  She went for a walk into the woodland to think, stumbling around for about half an hour. She found some smashed beer bottles and an old car tyre, but no clearing. Not that she allowed herself to admit she was looking for one. It was just a dream.

  She heard a noise behind her and turned to see Cat scratching a tree. “Hi, Cat.”

  He mewed loudly and rubbed his chin all over her leg. “I’m happy to see you, too.” She laughed and picked him up to give him a cuddle. He tolerated it for half a minute before wriggling his way out of her grip. “Alright! God, I just wanted a cuddle!”

  He whipped his tail around and walked off, before he seemed to catch the scent of something and bobbed his head, sniffing. He walked forward as though following a trail. “What can you smell? A rabbit probably. Gareth always said it was your favourite meal, apart from fish of course.”

  Cat gave her a look that said ‘please’, and continued walking, sniffing the air. Dale decided to follow to see where he might lead them. After a few minutes she came across a large fallen tree. Moss grew all over it. It was too large and slippery to climb. Cat had gone right under. She shrugged and decided to scamper under herself. She had to get onto all fours but she managed to climb through to the other side, and when she stood up she sucked in her breath.

  “What! I don’t believe it!”

  It was the clearing from her dream. Cat stood in the middle, where the sprite had been. A golden ray of sunlight pierced the canopy and filled the clearing with warm light. It was so much like the dream, Dale had to pinch herself. “I’m not dreaming now.” Cat mewed and rubbed against her leg again. She picked him up and this time he let her pat him.

  By the time she returned to her small camp Dale had convinced herself that the clearing and the dream were just coincidence. She had also settled on a more defined plan. She made a decision not to return home. Before, she had been toying with the idea. It did seem irresponsible to run off the way she had. But the thought of going back now felt plain wrong. Whenever she considered it her body reacted strangely – she sweated and bile rose in her throat. It was probably just the shock of everything that had happened but it was physically impossible for her to turn back now.

  So what was she to do?

  She looked over her maps again. An old map of Gareth’s caught her attention. It was very crumpled and tatty. Just like Gareth. But it had some interesting notes, all in the
old man’s hand. A red circle drawn on an island in the Hebrides drew her eye. Dale didn’t know for certain but she suspected that this was probably where Ness lived. With no other clues, it seemed the best lead she had.

  “So, that’s my destination.” She got out her newer maps and planned the route. Of course, it would depend on the weather. She would sail south first, past Arran and around the foot of Southend. Then she would turn north and brave the seas until she reached the Hebrides. According to the old map, Ness lived on the Island of Mull. She tried to estimate how long the whole trip would take. Two days, maybe three.

  Once she had her new route planned she thought about other practicalities. She had been right to worry about the police. Just because Gareth had been homeless didn’t mean the police wouldn’t investigate his murder. They wouldn’t know he was homeless anyway, when they found his body. Not at first. They might learn about Gareth’s boat and search the river. Dale swallowed.

  She also thought about Pastor Richard. His words came back to her yet again. ”I saw her face. I will find her; it’s only a matter of time.” She shivered.

  She needed a disguise and so did Joy. She remembered the paint. It was still stored in the porthole of the boat. She stood and began walking, feeling better now she had a plan and a purpose; something to work toward. Maybe things would get better soon.

  At the boat she took out the plastic bag. It was still there with the can of paint and the new paintbrushes.

  She opened another porthole that held other equipment. First aid stuff and some tools for the boat. And, a pair of scissors.

  She took the scissors and started hacking at her hair. The police and Pastor Richard would be looking for a girl with mid-length red hair. Dale was about to change all of that. She watched the ground as the curls fell, then went to the river to look at her reflection. Her hair was very short. She wet it with a handful of river water and parted it down one side. It would do.

  From her maps Dale knew the nearest village was just over a mile away. She told Cat to guard the camp and grabbed her money before heading off.

  It was another perfect summer’s day. In fact, the heat was more like the middle of summer than the start. But weather in Scotland was unpredictable.

  It wasn’t long before she entered the village. The shopping strip was easy enough to find. As she walked she looked at people and smiled, and measured their reaction. She didn’t want her hair to look too strange. People would remember a girl with a strange haircut. Her aim was to blend in, not to stand out. But people simply smiled back and returned to their own business. She breathed.

  At the grocer she bought a few items, some food for Cat, more tea and a little bar of soap. Then she went to the pharmacy and perused the beauty section.

  “Can I help you?” The serving girl eyed her, looking at her hair. Oh god!

  “Ah, yeah. You see my hair has finally grown back, you know how chemo can knock it all off.” Dale wasn’t too sure where this was going, but the girl’s disapproving look had changed to one of sympathy.

  “And it’s grown back red, can you believe it? So I really want to go back to my normal colour which is a dark brown.”

  The girl nodded. “Sure. I’ve heard of that happening before.”

  Really? Dale thought. I just made it up.

  The shop girl showed her the range of hair colours and picked out a good quality one that didn’t wash out. Dale thanked her and paid for the goods.

  She walked over to the caravan park, located the shower block and walked in. She read the instructions on the hair colour package carefully before using it.

  By the time she walked back to her camp Dale was a brunette. She couldn’t help but think how it would make her mother happy.

  Dale spent the afternoon painting the boat. Joy was now a cream colour; the original indigo completely hidden. She had also painted over the word ‘Joy’. As the sun sank low in the sky she assessed her work.

  “Now we’re both disguised,” she muttered.

  The air grew chilly when the sun went down so she made a fire and cooked a warm meal with a pasta mix. A full belly comforted her a little. But the work she’d done on the boat, in the hot afternoon, had exhausted her, and so it wasn’t long after her tea that she fell asleep, with Cat curled at her toes.

  It seemed like only a few minutes after she’d put her head down that her eyes flew open. There had been a noise; that flapping noise. A bird? There was another noise too – a soft tapping on the lean-to. It was raining.

  She sat up. The fire was out. Even the smoke had disappeared. It must have rained heavily. She thought about the boat and the new paint. “Oh god.”

  She stood. Hopefully it had dried enough. She grabbed the canvas that she slept on and walked through the wood to her boat. It was clearly visible in the dull moonlight. She hadn’t realised how bright it would be at night. Could it be seen from the river? The ripples of grey moonlight reflecting on the river could just be seen through the trees. The boat was most likely visible.

  She threw the canvas over Joy, immediately camouflaging her and protecting her from the rain.

  Then the flapping sound returned and she looked up. “You again,” she muttered.

  The white owl sat atop the nearest tree. Its dark eyes looked down on her. It stayed long enough to give her that stare before hooting and flying off.

  Dale shook her head. “I think that bird is stalking me.”

  Then she froze. There was another noise – a motor. A boat was on the river, and it was coming closer. She crouched down, in amongst the plants and waited, her heart thumping. What if it was Pastor Richard? What would she do?

  The sound got closer. A beam of light moved from side to side, over the water and the shoreline. Looking, searching. Searching for her? A second later the vessel came into view. A police boat. She held her breath as it passed by, taking centuries. The white light penetrated the trees and scanned over Joy, but now, with the canvas over it, the boat looked more like a large rock. When they had passed and the little waves crashed on the shore, she breathed again.

  They hadn’t seen her. Lucky. She looked to the heavens and smiled. The rain fell gently on her skin. She realised how lucky she’d been that it had rained. Without it the fire would have given her away. She would have been caught.

  9

  It was past dawn when Dale woke. Yawning, she put her head down for more sleep, but the sun was already high in the sky. It must be mid morning, at least.

  She thought about starting the fire again. A cup of tea would be nice, but then she remembered the police boat. Better not risk it.

  She got out of her bed and wandered through the trees to Joy. The canvas, heavy with pools of water, proved difficult to lift. The rain had been copious over night, but the day was clear now. A slight breeze blew from the west. Sailing might be difficult today.

  She lifted the canvas further and prodded the bow. The paintwork felt dry. It was strange to see Joy in this new cream colour. She was so used to the blue, and she missed it in a way. Gareth had painted the boat indigo not long after they had repaired the hull. But now the colour was gone, and so was Gareth. Her hand went to her head and she felt the short, chopped hair. I’m a brunette now, she remembered. Everything is changing.

  She flipped off the entire canvas and inspected her work from the previous day. It was a quick job, but it would do. The sun was already strong. Another hour or two of drying should see it through. She left Joy fully exposed. People would be less suspicious about a boat banked there during the day.

  Cat was waiting at camp. The moment he saw her he started mewing.

  “Hungry, Cat? Me, too.”

  Dale fed Cat with the new food she’d bought the day before, and then made her own breakfast – a banana squished between two slices of bread. As she ate, she unfolded Gareth’s old map and, squinting at the red circle, read the label, “Island of Mull”. Her finger traced the route she would need to take to reach her destination, and she wondered a
gain how long the journey would take. The winds in the Hebrides could be dangerous, and they were mostly westerly, which meant lots of sailing into the wind. It would slow her progress. She bit her lip and felt an urge to move – now!

  She rolled up the map and began packing. The paintwork would have to do.

  An hour later and Dale and Cat were back in the boat. It must have been close to midday. The sun burned and the winds were strong south westerlies that made sailing difficult. She pointed the bow as close to the wind as possible, trying to cover as much ground as she could. But without Gareth she had a light cargo. Perhaps when she stopped next she should add some heavy rocks to her load. It might help.

  As they passed Inverkeep she could just make out the strip of shops where she had bought the supplies. They were at the mouth of the Clyde now, where the river met the inner seas of the Hebrides. As if to mark the milestone, the wind picked up and she had to work doubly hard.

  She sat on the gunwale at times and leaned out. Her abdomen burned and the salt water stung. The spray grew heavy as the waves of the loch became larger. Cat’s fur clung close and glistened in the sun.

  “You’re supposed to hate this, you know. Didn’t Gareth ever tell you that cats are supposed to hate water?”

  Cat blinked as more spray landed. He almost looked as though he was smiling.

  Gareth. How did such an old eccentric come into her life? She laughed into the wind when she remembered how she’d first met him, about four years ago, not long after her family had moved to Glasgow.

  It had been summer then too. She’d had a serious argument with her mother over St Nino’s. Dale wanted to attend Whitehill High. With the mix of students there she would have found a group to belong to, and it was a short walk from their house. But her mother wouldn’t allow it. She came home that day with Dale’s new school uniform, demanding she try it on. Dale refused and it led to a long, loud argument. Dale stormed out of the house and ran through the streets of Parkhead. She ran all the way to the river, and that’s when she met Gareth.