STOLEN BAIRNS: Scottish Fiction

by Anne Bone

  Now she felt a bit guilty about this. The poor lad looked shocked and bewildered, perhaps it would have been better if she had told him and prepared him for some of this. For goodness sake, those Menzies needed sorting out. She recalled the other part of the conversation this morning, and she had no reason to doubt the lad when he said he had been sending money every month towards the upkeep of his bairn. Undoubtedly, that would be Fred Menzie’s style, taking money when the child was not even there any longer.

  Maybe the lass would be better off in Aberdeen. She just hoped that Fred Menzie came knocking at her door to ask if she had seen his daughter. For she would take great delight in telling him in no uncertain terms exactly what she had seen. Poor lass.

  Chapter 14

  The journey into Aberdeen had been made in almost silence. Marty had checked several times that Beth was ok. She had silently nodded. Marty just drove as fast as he could, each mile putting some distance between her and that place. He did not have a plan other than he knew that once his Aunt Molly took control then everything would be ok.

  If Molly Paton was surprised or shocked by her nephew’s return or that she suddenly had a new house guest then she did not show it. Instead, she took it all in her stride. She opened the door and her heart to assist Marty in helping this skinny, smelly wee lassie into her house.

  The wee lassie allowed them to help her remove the heavy rain coat, and then Marty removed the sodden wet thick scarf from her head. Molly watched her nephew as he tenderly wiped her face; she also saw the flash of anger at the mess this young lassie was in.

  Molly took control. ‘Right, young Beth, I think you need a good warm bath, and then I think we need to get that hair of yours sorted out. Then we will all feel a bitty better.’ She rolled up her sleeves, ‘Now, Marty, go upstairs and run a good hot bath, and while you are there sprinkle a good dollop of those nice smelling bath salts you gave me for Christmas in with the water too.’

  She sat next to Beth, who seemed to be in a sort of a trance. She did respond when she stroked her hand though. ‘Now lass, you’re safe, we’ll sort you out, don’t you worry.’

  Beth remembered hearing these words. She caught them and held them, they were spoken with such warmth and care that they penetrated into the depths of her soul.

  When Molly got going she meant business. Marty was ordered out of the bathroom while Molly removed Beth’s clothes. Clearly, the girl needed a bit of privacy and although Molly was well aware that her nephew already had carnal knowledge of this young girl, she was not convinced that this girl realised what was taking place at the moment. She, for one, was not going to be party to anything taking place without the girl being fully able to consent to it.

  Molly gently washed the girl’s back and when it came to her hair, she asked whether she could cut away some of the tangles. When Beth nodded her agreement, Molly did just that fearing that as she did so she would unleash goodness knows what that might be living amongst it.

  When Beth emerged from the bathroom an hour later wrapped in Molly’s red towelling dressing gown she looked a different person. Her hair now was quite short, but Molly had made a reasonably decent job of it. It looked quite even and not as if she had just been the subject of a shearing. Marty reassured his aunt that he would be able to shape it and style it later. He only hoped that by the time he did this, Beth might take an interest in the outcome as at the moment he did not think she would notice if her head had been shaved.

  Her physical appearance may have changed, although her eyes still held that glazed, dazed look. It was as though she was not in there and was somewhere else. Molly made sure that she told her what was happening in clear terms. ‘Now my lass, we’ll go back down stairs and have a nice cuppie and a fly piece, how about that?’

  Beth followed her and drank the tea and ate the scone, which was presented to her. She just felt so tired, so very tired. It was as though she had been on a very long and arduous journey. She felt her eyelids closing and could hardly do anything to stop them. Recognising the signs of exhaustion, Molly instructed Marty to fill the hot water bottle and she would take Beth upstairs and put her into the spare bed.

  Beth felt herself being placed into the bed. It felt as if her head was floating and she felt a wonderful sense of peace and safety as the crisp white sheets were drawn up to her chin, and the feather eiderdown was placed lovingly around her. The last she remembered was feeling a kiss on her forehead and Marty’s voice telling her to sleep and that she was safe. It was the nicest dream she had ever had.

  Meanwhile, downstairs, Marty prepared himself for the grilling he was to receive from Aunt Molly. ‘Ok,’ she asked, ‘what happened?’

  He told her everything he could remember. The way he had found her, his shock, her telling him that they had taken her bairns. He did not know what to make of it, however he was certain that there was something sinister about all of this.

  Molly was concerned for her nephew. What would happen when the girl’s family discovered she had gone missing? Would they call the police, or would they come looking for Marty? She had never been happy about the situation when he had returned home from Hillside Farm, penniless and shaken, with the story about getting this girl pregnant. While Molly was the first to demand that men lived up to their responsibilities, she had wondered whether her nephew had been taken for a ride.

  He had never once faulted in sending an allowance to cover the child’s care for the past two years. He shared his angst many times with her about whether he should go out and see his bairn. Molly had tried to tell him as many times that he wasn’t even sure that the child had been born and here he was sending money. However, there was no telling the boy, no, he just kept saying that, whatever, he owed it to Beth as he had taken her virginity and left her to face the consequences of his actions. Although annoyed by his naivety, Molly had been proud that the boy took his responsibilities seriously.

  Marty told his aunt that he had made sure Mrs Bellows had known that Beth was with him and had gone with him with her consent. He was pretty sure that if anyone went looking for Beth one of the first places they would knock would be Hillside Farm.

  Unbeknown to Molly and Marty that was exactly what was happening at this very moment. Doris had not missed Beth. She was so used to her being out in the garden all day, it was Fred who first noticed that she was not around when he came in to look for his cup of tea in the mid afternoon. He just assumed that she had wandered off somewhere, and moaned about having no tea made.

  It was Jason who had gone looking when he arrived home from school. He asked where Beth was and no one was able to tell him. He immediately started to panic, remembering the events on that cold winter’s night. ‘What do you mean you don’t know? When did you last see her?’ When he had received no explanation, only shrugs of shoulders, he took off in search of her.

  He had searched through the steadings and along the track. When he reached the end of the track he had to decide which way to go. Should he go along the track to the river? At this thought he felt himself shudder. Oh Hell, he hoped she had not done anything to herself. Or should he go along to Hillside Farm? He decided on the latter, hoping that if he did have to search along the riverbank, then he might get some help and support from Mr Bellows. There was no doubt that he was more likely to get some help from them, than his own family.

  Mrs Bellows had been really nice, she had welcomed the young boy into her house, telling him not to worry, that Beth was indeed safe. He had been amazed when she had sat him down and placed a hot mug of tea in his hands, before ensuring that he was munching his way through the biggest and tastiest piece of fruit cake he had ever eaten. Mrs Bellows told him about Marty’s visit and that Beth had gone back to stay with him in Aberdeen.

  Jason had been just so relieved. At least she was safe, although he would miss her so much. Jason was a bright lad and when he heard from Mrs Bellows about how surprised Marty had been that the bairn had been sent to stay with relatives, especially gi
ven he had been sending money to support his bairn every month, he felt himself embarrassed. Jason had a very good idea who the person was who was responsible for this. No doubt his father would be a tad annoyed that not only had the household drudge left, but his monthly allowance would also dry up.

  Chapter 15

  Molly Paton was a thin lanky woman. Her hair required regular perms to keep the thick wiry locks under some sort of order. She now had her own personal hairdresser who made sure that the dark greying hair always looked beautifully groomed. Tall and lanky she may have been, except her face was round and ruddy, weather beaten by a lifetime living on the edge of the North Sea. Molly had crinkles rather than wrinkles. Her face seemed to be constantly bathed in a smile. She was known locally as a bonny lady who would do anyone a favour and a good turn. A spinster she may have been, but she could have had many chances to change this status over the years. For whatever reasons, she had chosen not to do so.

  The house in Greyhope Road was peaceful and organised. Molly took pride in keeping her home clean and tidy, although she was in no way obsessive about keeping every item in the house dusted. If she had been, then she would have had to spend all of her time dusting the many varied ornaments and heavy pieces of Victorian furniture, which filled the house. All items had been there since her grandparents’ day. They had been the first owners of Harbour View when it was built in eighteen ninety-seven, the year her father Jock had been born.

  The Paton family had been involved in the fishing industry for as long as anyone had known. Jock had inherited his father’s fish house, and had built this up until the one fish house turned into three. When Jock married Mary they shared his parents’ home, filling the spare rooms with their own family. Jock must have held strong hopes that his three sons would carry on the family business, but this was not to be. The youngest boy Thomas died of diphtheria at just six years old, while Molly’s older brother John died at sea while on active service sailing in one of the Atlantic convoys in 1940. Molly remembered her mother pleading with her younger brother James to stay at home and help his father. James sadly took no heed; he had been desperate to follow his brother into the Navy and had almost survived the conflict. When the telegram had arrived in January 1943 to inform her parents that he had been killed in action, Molly had thought her mother would quickly follow him.

  The family was decimated, leaving only two daughters to carry on the family name and business. Margaret had never been interested in any side of the business, being the youngest she had been rather spoilt. At eighteen she had left home to go and live with a married man in Edinburgh. This only lasted a couple of years and she then seemed to go from one man to another until she ended up pregnant with Marty.

  Molly did carry on working until her father sold the business when he turned sixty in 1957. She had worked in the office looking after the books. This had worked out well, allowing her time to care for her mother. Mary had never recovered from the loss of her sons, her health just deteriorated suffering one illness after another. Eventually, at just fifty-six, she just faded away. No one could really put a diagnosis on what the final cause of death had been. Molly was certain that it was due to a broken heart.

  When her father retired he had had great hopes of spending his time pottering around in a little boat he had bought. He did spend many happy days bobbing about on the coast just outside of the harbour entrance. It was on one such day when he was setting off that he collapsed with a massive heart attack. He had only managed to enjoy one year of his retirement and did not live to see his grandson born a year later. He would have loved Marty.

  Molly had been left reasonably comfortable. Her father had been careful and had invested wisely. There was enough money to ensure that she lived out her life in comfort without any cause for financial worries. She had been the sole beneficiary, her father had been incredibly angry with Margaret that he had cut her out of his will. Molly being Molly had ensured that she did receive some benefits and it was through this that Margaret had had a lump sum to start her new life in Australia.

  Molly always felt grateful to her sister when she had left Marty with her. Marty became the entire focus of her life. At thirty-eight she had given up the thought of ever having a child of her own; Marty had filled that void.

  Harbour View was a detached four bedroom granite house. When the house was first built it had been viewed as being very modern as it had an inside toilet and bathroom. This had been placed on the mezzanine floor and had been such a delight for her mother when she had been so unwell. The four large square bedrooms and three receptions rooms on the ground floor had been witness to the many comings and goings of the Patons.

  Over the last couple of years, Marty had persuaded his aunt to modernise the house. It had taken some persuading, as she had kept saying that she was used to the house and it was fine as it was. For Molly had lived her entire life in the same house and was used to the way of it.

  Eventually, she had agreed and the small kitchen and scullery had been knocked into one large room. Modern units had been fitted to the walls and a brand new smart gas cooker accompanied by a fridge and a twin tub washing machine had replaced the antiquated items. In the centre of the kitchen was a long pine table and six chairs. The table was old and worn and many years of scrubbing had created patterns which were ingrained in the wood. One of Molly’s first memories was sitting at the table watching her grandmother knead dough which would then be placed in the oven to feed the family fresh hot bread.

  Molly was proud of her modern kitchen, although she had to admit that the best change of all was the installation of central heating into the large house. She really noticed how, during the last winter when the North Sea blew its icy winds onto the shore, Harbour View was warm and cosy. What a difference it had made. In Molly’s younger days, the winter had brought extra work, as buckets of coal had to be carried all over the house to fill hearths, the warmth of which never seemed to penetrate to the corners of the large rooms. Now she didn’t have to worry, she could step out of her bed in the morning to a lovely warm room which warmed her middle-aged bones.

  Molly, however, could not be persuaded to change any of the other rooms. The large front room was still kept for best and only used on very special occasions. The room was full of over large dark furniture and the three-piece horsehair suite was terribly uncomfortable. The other front room was the dining room, which again was not used very often. The mahogany dining table was part of a suite, one which her father had purchased just before the war. Its large matching sideboard was full of best crockery which again only saw the light of day at Christmas and New Year.

  The back room was the living room, cosy and comfortable. It held the old settee and arm chairs which had been covered so many times it was difficult to recall what colour it had started out as. The chairs had several bright cushions and could be sculpted by whoever sat in them to fill the sagging holes. In one corner sat the colour television. This had been a real luxury, one of Marty’s suggestions, while in the opposite corner sat a small hi-fi unit, another of Marty’s acquisitions. He had a similar item in his own bedroom, but liked to encourage his aunt to listen to music. The room had always been the family room. The old Victorian black-leaded fireplace dominated the room and still, even since the arrival of the central heating, was used on a daily basis in the winter months.

  Molly took pleasure in seeing the fire roaring up the lum and sending shadows dancing around the room. Modern things were one thing, but nothing could beat a coal fire on a stormy night.

  The living room looked out over the long strip of garden. None of the Patons had been gardeners. In her grandmother’s day they had employed a local gardener to keep the garden tidy and free from weeds. When she was a child, Molly recalled that her grandfather had had half of the garden dug up and cemented to provide a back yard where the family clothes would be hung out to dry. During the war time, she had helped her father dig up what was left of the back lawn to grow vegetables, and it h
ad never really recovered since. It had been allowed to just do its own thing and really the only time Marty or Molly entered it was to fill the dustbin or hang the washing out.

  The front garden was kept tidy, it was mostly grass with a few shrubs growing around the edges. Jock had made the side of the garden into a driveway and had a garage built to house his precious car. Now, Marty used the same garage to house his precious Mini Cooper, a present from his aunt on his twentieth birthday.

  The lawn at the front of the house was cut by Marty; it was one of his household duties. He did not really mind, as watching the view across the harbour and out to sea made the task easier. It was always changing, first there was the sea which at one moment looked almost turquoise and tranquil as though it was a mill pond and then, in the next second, it could turn a dark grey and resemble a raging bubbling cauldron.