Up until that point he had been preparing himself to go to the reception and insist that Mary Burgess come and see him immediately, instead he admonished himself. He had resisted reaching a critical point of impatience mostly because he didn’t want to cause a fuss for Dolores, who had been so pleasant and also the sudden arrival of the emergency patient had also forced him to reconsider his situation. Even though the old chap had just been probably downed by one, or maybe a dozen too many it was the duty of the hospital staff to sort him out.
‘There are people here a lot worse off than you Joey boy.’ He muttered. This was a big city hospital in the middle of a blizzard. They were probably a tad too busy to attend to the demands of a data analyst looking for paperwork from sixty years ago.
Resigned to a long wait Joe retrieved a plastic file protecting a wad of paperwork inside it from his canvas bag. He pulled out the paperwork and lay it onto the plastic to protect it from his damp trousers and began to go over the information again.
The job was ostensibly a straight forward one. Collate the data for births and deaths in Scotland since 1900, identify regions where births and deaths were highest and where the patients were treated, be it on entering the world or leaving it. It was a simple enough task but a heavy workload with twenty people working on it back in London. This data would in turn be processed and used to produce a scaled implementation of the allocation of NHS budget across the regions of Scotland.
For his employer, Dynamic Systems, it was a very big deal. This was the first top line government contract they had managed to acquire but more importantly for Joe it was the pathway to promotion and a pay rise. But there was a problem.
As he had begun to render the supplied data into his program, which showed the rise and fall, year by year, city by city of the births and deaths in Scotland, a Black Hole had appeared. Black Holes were bad. Black Holes indicated a total absence of data in a single defined area or year even worse, both. The problem region lay to the extreme North West of the country.
There were other places that had anomalous data or offered only inconsistent results but they were nothing outside of the expected margin for error. The Black Hole meant the results were large and consistent, this being that there were no results at all.
As far as he could determine, the hole lay on top of a place called Winter Falls. There didn’t appear anything else like a town near to it and according to what he could find on Google it was home to around three hundred inhabitants, but that was taken from the last census information available.
The natural harbour that it sat next to provided its economic base through fishing and there was a small agricultural presence. There was no mention of tourism or of any other industry. The data was old and that didn’t help and there wasn’t even a reference to which census had been used to obtain the information.
He had first tried to get the records over the phone but had been brushed off by some unhelpful jobs-worth in the hospitals administration department. Records that old were kept in the archives, still in paper format and no personnel could be spared to ‘dig through that lot,’ Joe had been brusquely informed. Reporting the issue to his boss had resulted in this little trip and Joe was beginning to wonder if a company car and five percent raise were worth the effort.
The shadow of a figure appeared before him. Joe looked up from his graphs and saw, thanks to the photo ID resting upon her cashmere sweater that Mary Burgess had finally arrived.
‘Joe Clarke?’ She asked
‘Hi, yes.’ Joe stood and attempted to shake hands before realising that he was clutching the pile of paperwork. He placed it on the next chair and then offered his hand. Mary flashed an impossibly bright smile, made more so by the cascade of thick black hair that bobbed around her shoulders. She was about his age, probably a little younger, he guessed mid-twenties. Her skin, her teeth, her lustrous eyes screamed ‘not Scottish’ to him. Joe’s unrealistic bias stated that Scot’s women should be short and round and blotchy, they would have bad teeth and severe hair.
Taking his hand Mary apologised. ‘I’m really sorry to have kept you waiting Joe, its hectic here and I don’t mean just now, right now it’s madness.’ Again the perfect smile. For the second time today Joe felt himself utterly disarmed by a woman and once again there was no Scottish accent. Mary spoke with a luxurious American drawl, slightly worn with an English lilt. His bias towards identifying Scottish women gave itself a small tick.
‘You’re American?’ He asked.
‘California born and bred but I’ve been in Great Britain for four years now, two here in Scotland.’
‘Wow, that’s great!’ Joe replied and promptly realised that he was being decidedly uncool and possibly a dick.
‘Well it’s certainly different.’ Mary replied which Joe felt was by way of letting him off the hook. ‘So Joe, I’m told you want to see the archives from way back, that right?’
‘Yeah, basically 1900 to 1960’
‘All of them?’ asked Mary incredulously.
‘Oh, Christ no.’ Joe reassured her. ‘I just need the records of births and deaths and only those from a particular region.’
‘Ok well. I can get you access to them but I gotta tell ya it’s not a pretty sight down there.’ Mary indicated that they should make for the security door. Joe quickly picked up the paperwork and shoved it into his bag.
‘Could I put this somewhere safe?’ He indicated his coat and travel case.
‘Sure.’ Mary walked to the reception desk and leaned over the desk to talk to Delores. Joe watched her every step of the way. Only the white Lab coat, that was unfastened, and her ID badge indicated that she was a hospital employee. She wore grey trousers that fitted snug around slim thighs, the cashmere sweater was light pink and her hair was loose unlike that of the other female staff he had seen here. As she leaned on the desk Joe observed how her lab coat curved around her backside.
‘Jesus Joe.’ he said quietly to himself, and stopped staring. As Mary returned Delores came around from behind the counter.
‘Causing trouble already Mr Joe?’ She said in her voluptuous accent.
‘Ah I’m so sorry, it's just a bit awkward having to drag this thing around.’
‘Don’t you fret. I’ll put this under the reception counter for now, there’s plenty of space, but I’ll have to get security to lock it away if it’s going to be left for a while.’
‘That’s fine.’ Joe replied. ‘Everything I need for the archive work is in here.’ He patted the bag.
‘Ok,’ said Mary. ‘We are all set then, follow me into the depths Joe, if you dare.’ Joe thought he might possibly follow Mary into a pit of snakes if she asked him too.
Just as the awful day had started to look up Joe was led into the archives room and his spirit was instantly broken. The large room, easily the size of a garage forecourt was home to row after row of metal shelving. Crammed onto each shelf were boxes, binders, loose sheets of paper and here and there thick rolls of paper bound with string. On the floor were similar items, some boxes had broken corners and papers bulged out of them.
‘Fuck me.’ Joe said. His heart sank. London became more distant.
Mary nodded in commiseration. ‘Yup, I’m afraid this is not going to be easy for you.’ She walked towards the far end of the room and drew her finger across the shelving there and let Joe see the coating of dust she had collected with that single swipe.
‘All of the records from the 1970’s onwards have been digitised but there’s no funding available to get the rest done.’
She then attempted to pull out a box from the shelf that she had just swiped. ‘Could you give me a hand please?’
Joe quickly moved to her and took most of the weight of the box. They placed it on the floor together and Joe could smell a faint trace of attractive cologne on her neck as they bowed to put the heavy box down.
‘It’s not all bad though,' Mary said as she straightened and wiped her hands on her lab coat. ‘All of the births
and deaths should be in boxes like these.’ She raised her eyebrows at the box and then pointed at the shelf. ‘Each rack should contain about two to three years’ worth of records and if you are very, very lucky they will be in order.’
‘I only really need the births.’ Joe said. ‘Does that help?’
‘Afraid not, births and deaths go into the same box.’
‘Ok.’ He replied, resigned to the task. He had no choice but to accept the situation. Returning to London today had been a hope but now it was only a rapidly retreating memory. ‘I suppose I should get started’.
Mary offered him a conciliatory smile. ‘Ok, good luck soldier,’ she said, and left him to it.
At ten o’ clock, almost to the minute, a security guard appeared in the archives room. Joe looked up and nodded to him. The guard had been showing his face since six. Joe assumed that his shift had started then. No words were exchanged, the guard glanced around the room, acknowledged Joe, turned and left.
It was approaching five hours of searching through the files and boxes. Not one birth certificate had appeared for the region and time period Joe required. He had sorted out three boxes with various records of births and deaths for years leading up to and after the dates, but not a single one during.
As he sifted through he noticed that many family names were repeated over and over. Not that this was not unusual, especially in areas of limited mobility. Macgregor’s, Callans, Cambells, Dunbars and Kames were well represented in the region. All of these families had children before and after the Black hole years, but none during if the archives were to be believed.
He checked the time and decided to call his boss. There was no signal available in the archive room, ‘lots of concrete around me,’ Joe supposed and made his way back up to the administration offices. The guard who had visited him every hour was sat in there, a multiplex monitor array showed at least nine camera views around the hospital, opposite him a colleague was similarly engaged.
‘I just have to make a call.’ Joe explained.
‘Nay worry mate,’ the guard responded. Joe realised that this was the first clear Scottish accent he had heard. He stepped outside of the security office and hit Mike Stone’s number on his speed dial and waited.
‘Hi Joe.’
‘Hey, Mike. Sorry to call you at home so late.’ Joe took another look at his watch.
‘It’s not a problem, how’s it going up there. The news says there’s a fucking blizzard.’ Mike sounded genuinely concerned and Joe liked the Boss because of this. He had a close relationship with his staff. He also raced on Superbikes at the weekend which Joe thought made him a pretty cool character by default.
‘Yeah, it’s pretty bad, took eight hours to get here so I guess I’m stuck for the night.’ Joe said without masking his disappointment.
‘What about the data, did you get the records?’
‘No, and that’s another nightmare. I think there are files down here from when the Romans came.’
Joe heard Mike laugh a little.
‘In truth I don’t think that I’m going to find any. Unless those particular years just happen to have been misfiled they aren’t here.’
‘Ok Joe. Look, don’t waste any more time there. I’m going to book you a room at a hotel near to the hospital. I’ll make it a decent one and I’ll cover it with the company card so you aren’t out of pocket.’ Joe rolled his eyes with relief at this news. ‘But we need that data, we need it pretty fast to get this contract in on schedule.’ Joe knew what was coming next.
‘So you are going to have to go to this place, what’s it called again, Winterfell?
‘Winter Falls.’ Joe corrected him. ‘Winterfell is from the TV show Game of Thrones.’
‘Ha, oh yeah. Alright well, you gotta go there mate. Get copies of the originals and then get back home. All good?’
‘All good boss.’
‘Great. I’ll hire you a car for the week in case the weather keeps you up there for a few days,’ Mike added.
‘Christ I hope not!’
Mike laughed again. ‘Ok Joe, I’ll text the details of the hotel shortly and speak to you tomorrow. See ya.’
‘Thanks, see ya.’ Joe replied and waited for Mike to end the call.
‘I’m going to be leaving shortly.’ Joe said to the guard who didn’t look away from the monitor.
‘Aye, nay bother.’
Joe returned to the archive room and collected his belongings. He wondered if it was still snowing outside.
Chapter Two
His alarm woke him at eight o’ clock. After a hot shower and a late meal he had slept well but he was a little disappointed he hadn’t had time to make use of the hotels amenities. The gym looked amazing. Mike had picked a really nice place.
He switched on the TV and waited for the weather report. Today was looking good, tomorrow also. Cold but with clear skies. It started to look shaky towards the end of the week however, more wind, more snow. 'Nay bother,' he thought, he would be long gone by then.
Joe took breakfast in the dining room and then checked out at reception. Once again he was surprised to encounter accents from Sweden to Australia and it began to dawn on him that perhaps London was not the only ‘International’ city in the UK. The receptionist, the Swedish girl, handed him a plastic zip lock bag with a set of car keys and paperwork inside. He thanked her and made his way out to the parking lot.
The hire car was a Nissan four wheel drive. Joe opened up the driver’s door and checked for Sat Nav. No joy.
‘Can’t have everything,’ he said quietly to himself and climbed in.
Escaping Glasgow proved to be another test of patience and willpower. Despite the councils practiced application of snow removal the city was clogged with traffic. Abandoned cars, minor accidents due to ice and just general bad driving created motorised hell for anyone entering or leaving. After sitting on one stretch of road for over thirty minutes Joe decided to pull over into a MacDonald’s and sit out the rush hour. Here everyone spoke with a distinctive Scottish dialect and for a while Joe was happily lost in the gabble around him.
As sipped on a bitter tasting Cappuccino his phone began to vibrate in his pocket. He retrieved it and saw that it was the Mike.
‘Hi Mike.’ He said, trying to sound upbeat.
‘Hey Joe, everything Ok with the hotel? You got the car?’
‘Yeah it was great, thanks. Car is cool too, four wheel drive, good call’
‘I thought it might be a bit more practical than a Lexus,’ Mike replied.
‘Sadly yes I think you’re right.’ Joe laughed at this but thought he would have risked a Lexus.
‘Listen, I’ve tried to get in contact with someone in the town that will have access to the records but its proving difficult.’
‘Oh?’ Joe replied.
‘Yeah, it’s fucking crazy but I can’t get the number of a police station, a doctors or even a corner shop.’
‘Did you try the Infirmary in Glasgow? They must have a contact for the records.’
‘I did and apparently they don’t. The records are delivered each year by hand. No emails either by the way. It’s like Middle Earth up there, what the fuck?’ Mike laughed but Joe could sense the hint of frustration in his voice.
‘Don’t worry boss, I’m on my way. The weather report is pretty good so there’s no reason I can’t be in and out today. If the records are in a mess for some reason then I should still be done by tomorrow at the latest.’
‘Ok, good stuff, good stuff. Well, have fun in Winterfell.’
‘Winter Falls.’ Joe said.
‘What? Oh yeah, heh whatever, have fun and get home with the treasure.’
‘Will do.’ Joe replied and the call ended.
Looking out of the window Joe could see little change in the traffic situation but he decided to give it another go. He bought a coffee for the road and headed back out.
Once the Nissan had escaped the sprawl of Glasgow and its satellite towns the condit
ion of the roads worsened with snow and ice, Joe assumed it was because less traffic had travelled along them, but the 4 x 4 handled it well.
Confident and a little more relaxed he managed to take in the scenery as it was revealed with each rise in the road or corner of a hill he rounded. He estimated that the journey to his destination would be three hours so long as there were no surprises on the way.
Google Maps had drawn a blank on Winter Falls and he had trawled the Internet for maps that featured the town, finally coming across a PDF of an Ordinance Survey map from 1948. It showed that the port lay about twenty miles northeast of a place called Lochnivar. It was nestled against the ragged north-eastern coast and surrounded by a vast wall of dense forest. Lochnivar looked promising as there were entries for it all over the net. Tripadvisor alone listed over two dozen vacation spots in an around the town.
A number of villages were scattered further inland and although they lay on a more direct route than Lochnivar Joe decided to take the extra miles to ensure he would have a garage available.
The journey allowed his mind to wander, much more than he had while travelling up from London, and as the Nissan cruised alongside Loch Lomond thoughts of Mary Burgess floated into Joe’s mind. He wished he had taken a break to go and talk to her, they could have had a coffee into the canteen, but searching through the archives had consumed his attention. That was how it had been of late.
He had spent most of his free time working on the NHS software recently. A lukewarm romance with a girl he had met at his gym had cooled to tepid quite quickly because of this. His friends had given up asking him to join them at social events, even trips to the cinema which Joe loved. He had always been a movie buff, especially for sci-fi and horror flicks, and until his job with Dynamic Systems he had enjoyed going to triple bill and late night showings of genre classics. He knew he had allowed work to become life but it was something he could fix once he had this project wrapped up.
Winter Falls Page 2
