SNATCHED BAIRN: Scottish Fiction

by Anne Bone

  Snatched Bairn

  by

  Anne Bone

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Anne Bone is a retired Social Worker. Although she was born and spent her childhood in the South of England, she moved to the North East of Scotland nearly forty years ago. Anne considers that Scotland is her spiritual home. She is very fortunate to have her grandchildren living close by, and they have grown up listening to Anne’s storytelling. Snatched Bairn is her third novel.

  SNATCHED BAIRN

  Part 1

  1984 – North East Scotland

  The long, winding and deeply-rutted track, flanked on each side by tall pine trees, guarded the way to the isolated croft house. The day he had first caught sight of the house, he felt a sense of overwhelming peace. He had found what he had travelled to Scotland for, a home, where he could lead a solitary life, away from the intrusions and demands of his previous life, someplace where he would leave his demons behind.

  He would start again, no one knew him or of him in this place deep in rural Aberdeenshire in the North East of Scotland. He knew when he glimpsed the advertisement in the property office that this would be the one. How did he know? He just did.

  He had travelled to Scotland for his first time just three weeks after he retired. He had told the folk who had shown any interest? that, after teaching for all of his adult life, he was going to retire and find some time for himself. He wanted to find a quiet place to live, away from the noise and constant traffic that passed his home in the centre of Southampton. This had been the house where he had resided his whole life. He suggested to the interested folk, that he was going to find some space to write, but gave no indication in what part of the country that he would be looking towards.

  He wanted no information to be passed to them, why should he? After all, no one had shown much interest in him during the fifty-eight years he had resided in Southampton. He had needed to put some space between himself and the school and, more importantly, space between him and the girl. Aberdeen was about as far as he could go and remain on the mainland.

  It had taken just three months for him to complete the purchase of the house, and to arrange the sale of the home in Southampton. He had sighed with a real sense of relief when he signed the final legal papers which meant he was finally free of the family home. He could not help the smile that touched his lips, but never reached his eyes, when he thought of how his mother would be spinning in her grave with the thought that he had abandoned the house and, in by doing so, he had finally abandoned her power which still invaded him forty years after she departed this world. Such was her influence over her one and only son.

  Now one year later, he stood back and surveyed his work in the house. He felt a tingling of excitement, laced with trepidation about what he was going to do. He had tried hard to avoid this, but he had no choice other than carry it through. At the beginning he had done his best to suppress his thoughts, but the energy to fight it had dissipated, and now he knew he had to follow not what was in his head, but deep in his inner being, the part of him that had been suppressed and had lain peacefully like a sleeping lion. Did he realise how wrong it was? Yes, he knew, but now he only allowed these thoughts to enter his mind for just a fleeting moment, before he blocked them; they were overridden by his need to carry out his intention.

  As he turned the lock of the door that led to the secret room he had constructed, he slid the false, tall bookcase he had built across the door. He stood back again and smiled to himself, the books hadn’t moved and there was no evidence that the small square three metre by three metre room existed in the house. How clever was that? Now he was ready, the next stage of his plan could commence.

  He had been thinking and planning now for six months, ever since he had realised that no matter how hard he had tried to bury the thoughts that lingered in his mind, thoughts that seeped into both his waking and sleeping brain, he could not do so. So, six months ago he gave in and once he had done that he no longer needed to live under the control that had dominated his life. Once he had argued with himself as to why he no longer needed to live in this self-imposed prison, then he experienced a sense of freedom, he felt energised, liberated. Each day became one day closer until to the day when he could carry out his plan. He would have what he had tried so hard to avoid.

  The plan had been so well formulated. First he had spent time working out how he could create a concealed room within the rambling one-storey granite croft house. It had been his first challenge, then, the materials he needed had to be bought and transported, not from a local DIY store in Aberdeen, but one much further away. Right from the start he knew he must be extra careful, and ensure that he did not do anything that would lead people to his door. The position of the house had enabled him to undertake the work without interruption. He could see from the living room come kitchen window right down the track, and anyone who came to visit would be seen long before they reached the small yard.

  He had to manage his neighbours, even though they were scattered and none within easy walking distance: he had to ensure they would not come knocking at his door. He had been careful in appearing at various community events, the village post office come shop was easy. He visited once a week on average to purchase a few essentials, and explained to the interested proprietor that he was working hard on the novel that he was writing. He was able to be evasive about what the novel was about and give enough details about himself that he was labelled by them as an incomer, and standoffish, one who they reckoned was never going to integrate into the community. He visited the local hotel about once a month, and the locals knew him as the teetotal Englishman who liked to occasionally order a bar supper. He was polite, distant and clearly enjoyed his own company. The locals were not threatened or particularly interested in this man. They left him to his own devices, believing that he was just the type of incomer who had chosen their community because of its beauty and remoteness, and not to make new friends.

  He had started building in the March and had spent the summer months carefully transporting the required items back from the DIY stores, not just one, but several. He had driven as far as Edinburgh on one occasion and north to Inverness on another, packing the items into the back of his Volvo estate and unpacking and storing them in one of the outside steadings, until he had what he needed to start the build. He had drawn up measurements and all the papers relating to this had now been burnt in the grate. As he watched the paper turn into grey embers he knew he had left no evidence that could be found.

  He was now on to the last part of the planning before he could initiate what he had dreamt about for so long. He was travelling to Glasgow to visit some shops where he would purchase the required items to make the concealed room cosy, he needed to make it cosy to ensure that his plan worked. He had made a list: bedside cabinet, rugs, bedding and toys. All would be flat-packed so would be easy to get into his Volvo estate. This would be its last journey before it was sold in part exchange for a Land Rover. He had already shared this information with Bill Cairns down at the village shop, telling him that he had decided to get a four by four vehicle before the winter, so that he wouldn’t get stuck if the weather became bad. He knew that by sharing this information anyone within the area would know soon enough that he had changed his car and the reason for this. Therefore no one would question where his green Volvo estate had gone.

  He would also make a visit to other stores, ones where he could buy some clothes. He would have to make a guess at the sizes, and just hope that he would pick the right ones. He knew that once the plan was put into operation he could not make long trips away from the croft, neither would he be able to make the purchases locally, so he would have to make n
umerous purchases which would need to be made in a number of stores. Once he had then stocked up his food cupboards and freezer, he would be ready to put the plan into operation. Just by thinking about this made his heart beat faster and his breathing became shallower.

  Chapter 1

  Monday 10th September 1984

  Mrs Kent, the primary five teacher, instructed her class to tidy up and get ready to go home. It had been a long day, and she would be pleased to get home and put her feet up. She had a couple of boys in the class this term whose behaviour was quite challenging, and today they had excelled themselves, requiring her to dispatch them to be spoken to by Mrs Banks, the head teacher. As the children were putting the books back onto the bookcases, she couldn’t help but wish they were all as well behaved as Mary Dinnet. Mary was a happy, quiet type of girl who seemed to love coming to school. She was a pretty child, her blue eyes sparkled, and she had cute dimples in both cheeks which were most evident when she smiled, and she smiled a great deal. It was, no doubt, her long blonde hair that attracted people’s attention, it was always lovely and smooth and, patently, her mother ensured it was brushed every morning before she came to school, which was more than some of the other parents did. Mary was always well turned out and a credit to her mother who, she was aware, was a single parent. It wasn’t her place to judge, as did some of her colleagues. Whatever the reason that Mary Dinnet’s mother was not married was no business of hers, she was, in her opinion, doing a grand job of bringing her daughter up.

  The bell rang out to signal the end of the day’s lessons, and Mrs Kent made the children line up and stand still before opening the door and telling them to go quietly and get their coats on. It was sunny today, but there was a nip of autumn in the air, and so she instructed them to place their coats on, and not drag them along as some would no doubt do. She watched as they pushed each other to and fro, while they searched for their peg, to where their coat was hung. She gave them one last instruction, and that was to walk home carefully, and make sure they looked both ways before crossing any roads. She closed the door behind them and went back into the classroom to prepare for the next day’s lessons.

  I am glad it’s time to go home, although I like school and really enjoyed today, especially when we were allowed to play with the clay. Mrs Kent thought the cat I had modelled was good. I wish I had a cat, but me mam says I can’t. She says it’s because we live in a flat and it’s not fair on the cat if it doesn’t have a garden. When I get home I am going to give Rosie, my favourite doll, a bath. I love playing with Rosie; she was a present from me mam on my birthday in July. It was my ninth birthday and me mam took me and three of my friends to the beach for the day. It was one of my best birthdays, ever.

  I am at the school gate, and wave goodbye to my pal Lesley. She goes in the opposite direction from me, and I am now allowed to walk home on my own, since the start of this term that is. I had begged mam to let me, and she wasn’t sure, but as long as I go straight home and don’t dawdle or speak to any strangers, then she is okay about it. She says that in the winter I have to go the long way round and not cut through the park. But today it’s sunny so I will be able to take the short cut.

  I love skipping; I think that I can get to places faster if I skip instead of walk. I am so looking forward to Saturday because me mam is going to take me into town. Then I can spend the one pound note that my Nana and Grampie Dinnet sent me. I asked mam if we can go to Woolworths in Union Street, because the last time I went there they had an outfit that would fit Rosie. Mam said we could, but I had to be good. So I will be good. If I get the outfit I can take it with me when we visit my Nana and Grampie and show them what I bought with the money.

  I am really looking forward to going on holiday to visit my Nana and Grampie; we leave in two weeks’ time, on the tattie holiday break. I asked me mam why it was called the tattie holidays, and she told me it was because there used to be a time when the children at the school needed off to help the farmer pick the tatties out of the fields. She hadn’t had to do it, and I am really pleased that I don’t have to either. Mam had had a letter from Nana inviting us to go and stay. We don’t go very often, maybe because they live a long way from Aberdeen, in Blairgowrie. Mam wasn’t always happy when we visited them, I’m not sure why. When I asked her she said it was because she doesn’t get on very well with them. That seems pretty strange to me, I get on well with my mam. Maybe I wouldn’t get on with my dad if I had one, but I don’t, I just have me mam.

  I love it when we do go and visit my nana, she is really nice to me, and always cooks me lovely cakes and takes me to the sweetie shop and lets me choose what I want. Grampie is grumpy and I secretly call him Grumpy Gramp, but I keep this to myself as if mam knew she would tell me not to be cheeky. But he is grumpy, and he hardly says a word to me, and doesn’t ever want to join in and play Ludo with me and Nana. He just grunts and leaves the room. Nana talks a lot, especially when Grampie is in the room, she sort of makes up for him not speaking. I sometimes have heard me mam and Grampie arguing, I am not sure what about, but it makes me mam angry and that’s not nice. That’s why we don’t stay long or visit very often I suppose.

  Grampie has a dog called Spot and I really like him. He is a border collie and likes to chase sticks. Me mam and I walk him sometimes. I am looking forward to playing with Spot. I wish I had a pet. The park is empty today. Sometimes there are people walking their dogs. I like to watch them and it reminds me of Spot, but there aren’t any dogs here today. The play park is empty too, no little kids on the swings, and no big kids throwing the swings over the top of the bar, which is a real pain. When mam takes me to the park, sometimes she can’t get the swing untangled, that’s ‘cause she isn’t very tall, so we have to wait until someone else comes along to help. Or else we just have to leave it and moan about the big lads who have forgotten that the swings are for kids my age. I won’t do that when I get to be their age. I told mam that and she said she hoped not.

  I like the plants that are poking out of the ground by the path. I think they are roses, they are lovely colours, and they smell nice. I stop for a minute and smell one, it’s a lovely dusky pink colour and I would like to pick it and take it home for me mam, but I am not allowed. Mam said you must leave the flowers in the park so everyone can enjoy them. I am nearly to the other side of the park now, the bit where it narrows and there are big bushes each side. They are taller than me, and are prickly. I remembered once when I fell in them and my arms and legs got scratches all over them, it was really sore and I cried. I am more careful now and make sure I don’t fall near them again. I am nearly at the gate; this gate is the closest to our flat. I am the only one from our school who lives in the street, and mam says that’s because most of the people living in our flats don’t have little kids, most of my friends live in the houses in the other direction. I wish there were other kids in the flats, and then I would have some friends to play with, and could play out after school like my friends can.

  The other gates to the park are a long way off, so mam says I must use this one. It’s the one by the park car park, so I have to remember to stay on the path and not cross the car park but go round it. It’s quite a big car park and you wouldn’t guess it is here unless you knew it, because there are lots of big trees all around the edge. At the weekend there are lots of cars in the car park, but today there is only one. It’s blue, but it’s empty.

  Suddenly I am lifted off my feet, someone has picked me up. I try and turn to see who it is but there is a big hand over my face, I try and bite it, but the other arm is round my tummy. I wish I could scream, but I can’t. I think it’s a man, he seems big, and he is walking really fast, and I am scared. I am really, really scared. What is happening to me? Who is he?

  He stops and I can see out of the corner of his hand that he is beside the blue car. He opens the back and he throws me in, I try to get up, but then there is something over my face. I feel something damp press over my nose, I can’t breathe properl
y. I try and scream but the thing over my face stops me, it’s dark and there is a funny smell and then nothing…

  Chapter 2

  Treeside Road Aberdeen

  Jenni Dinnet looked up from her sewing machine; she had finished the long seam of the curtain she was making for one of her customers. She looked up at the clock, dragging her fingers through her thick, dark blonde hair. I must make an appointment with the hairdresser she thought, my hair could definitely do with a trim, as could Mary’s. Her hair sat just above her shoulders and had a slight curl in it, whereas Mary’s was dead straight. Jenni stretched her arms out; she had been sitting at the small table in the small front bedroom where her sewing machine sat since late morning. She was trying to finish off this pair of curtains as she had promised her customer they would be ready for her to collect on Wednesday. Making curtains had started off as a way to earn a bit of money when Mary was a baby, word had got around, and now she was sometimes inundated with orders. She supposed she was lucky she didn’t have to go out to work, and while she didn’t need the money, she did need to feel she was in control of at least one thing in her life. So her curtain making business was doing well, and customers loved the fact that she would provide a flair to them, designing particular folds and pleats. A couple had even persuaded her to design a dress for them, but while this was something she enjoyed doing, she found it fiddly and so kept her clothes design to just making for Mary and herself.

  She looked again at the clock and realised what the time was. Mary was late, she should have been home by now, in fact, it was very unusual for her to ever be late, and she wasn’t the type of child to get waylaid by her school pals. She always made her way home from school quickly so that she could get the snack that always awaited her.

  Jenni stood up and moved to the window of her first floor flat. The flat overlooked the quiet road that ran along the edge of the small housing scheme. She could see right down the road, and often as she looked she would see her daughter hurrying along the road, and would see her lift her hand to wave. This would be the signal of making sure the chocolate biscuit and glass of juice was set out waiting for her. Mary was always hungry at the moment, and Jenni had reassured herself that her daughter was going through a growth spurt.