booksnew/source/Bane/Bane09.txt

CHAPTER NINE
‘Neat machine!’ yelled Paddy as I stepped out of the jeep after
parking on the pebbled driveway at the doctor’s big solid house.
She’d come bounding out of the front door and through the
porchway to leap down the steps, landing with a baseballer’s slide
in front of me. She was all blue eyes and sparkly teeth and still a
dead ringer for her mother.
‘Where’re we going Nick?’ I could tell she was excited at the
prospect of getting out and away from the big house. She bobbed
up and down on the soles of her running shoes, brimful of energy
and packed with fun.
‘Don’t know yet,’ I said, letting her take me by the arm and pull
me towards the house, feigning reluctance. ‘Hey, hey, at least let
me keep my arm.’ .
‘Are we going for a picnic?’ ·
‘Well, I thought we’d go for a drive across to Loch Lomond.
Maybe we can have a picnic there. I’ve brought some stuff to eat.’
‘Great. I’m starving.’ The little girl’s enthusiasm melted away
my night creeps like hoar frost under a hot sun. I had only met
Paddy that once, the time I’d accosted her in the car park, and I
had watched as she’d stuffed her face with Mary Baker’s finest. I’d
taken to her, which is hardly a surprise, because she was so like her
mother that she evoked a whole string of pleasant childhood
memories. But she was also a good kid. Bright, intelligent, well
mannered and funny. She took to me as well. It was as if she’d
known me all her life. In a strange way, I felt really good about
that, though I couldn’t explain why.
I’d thought about Barbara once or twice since we’d re-met. No.
That’s a lie. I’d thought about her quite a lot. She was terrific. I
mean she was not just terrific looking. She had all the qualities her
daughter had, and some that Paddy was surely going to inherit.
Over our coffee and spiced buns we’d talked a lot about this and
that and it didn’t take long for the small talk to evaporate. Maybe
we hadn’t seen each other for twenty years and maybe we had been
just kids then, but it really felt to me like she was an old friend — as if
I knew what she was going to say, just before she said it. Her
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humour was quick and her brain was agile, and she had poise and
confidence. On top of that, she really was terrific looking.
That estimation was reinforced when she came out through the
porch and stood in the sun, the rays that lanced through the
chestnut tree limping off the waves of golden hair.
‘Hi Nick. It’s a great day for a trip.’
‘You betcha mom. We’re going to Lock Lomond.’
‘Loch Lomond, Paddy. You say it like you’re clearing your
throat.’
I ‘I thought we’d take a run up there. I haven’t been for years.’
‘Sounds like a great idea. I need to get out in the fresh air. I’ve
been stuck in with a cold or the ilu or something.’
‘Oh, you should have told me. I could have made it another day,’
I said, secretly glad that she hadn’t.
‘No, I’m feeling flne. I just haven’t been sleeping well at all. I’ve
been waking up with the shivers in the middle of the night}
For an instant I had the shivers, up and down my back.
‘But I slept all right last night, so I think I must be over it. And I
wouldn’t give up a day like today for the world.’
‘I’ve brought along some things to eat. Juice and crisps and some
cakes,’ I said. ‘Plus some sausages and beans in case we want to
make a fire.’
‘Great,’ Paddy said, jumping around excitedly. ‘Can we make a
camp fire Nicky? Can we mom?’ she said, looking back and forth
from me to Babs. Her mother smiled and ruffled her hair.
‘We’ll see. First I’ll get the stuff I’ve packed,’ she said, and went
back into the house to reappear seconds later with a load of things
wrapped in tin foil. It looked like enough to feed a platoon. Her
father came out of the house with her. He’d aged a lot since I’d last
seen him, but he still looked like an able old fellow. He took off his
horn—rimmed glasses as he came down the stone steps and shook
my hand.
‘Well, hello there, Mr Ryan. Nick, isn’t it? Haven’t seen you in a
long spell.’ His accent was still Scottish, unlike Barbara’s which,
though not erased, was a mid-Atlantic hybrid. Paddy was strictly
American.
‘Nice to meet you again, doctor,’ I said.
‘Take care of those ladies for me,’ he said. ‘They’re all that’s
between me and seni1ity.’ He laughed and I went along with it. He
was probably right.
I opened the back door of the jeep and Paddy scampered in,
bouncing up and down on the seat excitedly. Babs eased herself
into the passenger seat and belted herself up while I started the
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engine, reversed and headed back down the driveway. The old
doctor waved vigorously as we turned into the street.
We passed through the edge of Westbay and out along the
Kilcreggan Road past the Langcraigs, a long ridge of buckled rocks
that formed a low cliff parallel to the road. Out beyond that we
took the Fruin Road that took us up by the old reservoir and past
the Colquhoun battle monument and down the twisting leafy road
in the valley between Cardross Hill and Black Hill towards Loch
Lomond. It took less than half an hour to be on the main lochside
road and heading up towards Luss and Inverbeg in some of the
country’s most breathtaking landscapes. The further we travelled
from Arden, the better I felt. Barbara was lively and animated and
frankly stunning. I put down my good humour to her presence. She
was dressed in a cotton shirt and a pair of white tight jeans that
made no attempt to hide her long—limbed shape. She had a light
sweater as well, but it was at her back, with the arms tied around
her waist. Every time she moved her head her hair swung and
bounced gently with it. Like her daughter, she smiled a lot and her
piercing blue eyes sparkled.
The Lomondside Road twists and turns alongside the Bonnie
Banks in a series of chicanes and hairpin bends, which is
murderous for the driving tourist who has to keep his eye firmly on
the road and therefore misses those stunning glimpses of the deep
blue water and the sweeping slopes of Ben Lomond. Babs and
Paddy were impressed with the views and kept up a running
commentary for me while I concentrated on passing caravans
trailed behind slow-moving cars. I stopped at Inverbeg where
there’s a nice little inn and an out-of-the—way art gallery that I
made a mental note to have a browse through some time. I left the
jeep in the car park and we took a farm road on foot behind the inn
which led up Glen Douglas. We walked for no more than twenty
minutes, which was enough to get us well out of earshot of the
traffic on the road, and then followed a narrow path that took us
down to the river. The walk was worth it for we found ourselves in
a clearing at the bank of a crystal—clear stream that gushed down
from a spectacular height into deep pot-holes in the rock. The
sunlight slanted down deep into the water, giving the dell a
fairytale quality. The only sound was the rush of water and the
singing of linnets and chaffinches.
Barbara stood entranced while her daughter immediately
slipped off her trainers and left them on a narrow strip of shingle
while she tested the water with her bare foot.
‘Ooh! It’s freezing!’ she cried out after wading in until the water
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was just above her ankles. She danced about, trying to get both feet
out of the water at once, and failing comically.
‘This is a lovely spot,’ Babs said. ‘I never even knew it existedf
‘I used to come here now and again during the summer
holidays,’ I said. ‘There’s some good trout in the water. We used to
take a few and grill them over the fire.’
‘Sounds lovely.’
‘It was, but if we’d been caught poaching, the gillie would
probably have shot us. They don’t mind you walking up here, but
fishing’s a capital offence. We never did get caught.’
‘The water looks so clean and cool,’ she said, watching as Paddy
minced back on to the shingles, shivering.
‘She’s right, it is freezing, but you get used to it.’
I pointed downstream to a huge, water-smoothed rock. ‘Just
beyond that there’s a good pool that you can swim in. After the Hrst
shock you get your breath back and when you come out you feel
great}
‘I think I’ll try it,’ Barbara said. ‘I haven’t swum in a stream for
years.’
‘Go ahead. I’ll pass. It’s too damn cold for me.’
‘Cissy.’
‘Too true. I’m no masochist.’
I did let her persuade me to take a dip later. It was absolutely
freezing and I was blue with the cold. But I was right. After I got
out of that pool and got dried off, my skin tingled and I felt
wonderful.
Paddy insisted that I light a fire, so I got some sticks together and
put some fair—sized rocks in a circle and got a blaze going. I cooked
the beans in the can and put some small sausages on a sharpened
stick. It was no gourmet meal, but there’s something immensely
appetising about anything cooked outdoors over an oak and
pinewood fire. After we ate that, and watched as Paddy
demolished most of the sandwiches her mother had brought,
Barbara let her play about in the shallow pool and we sat by the
crackling fire.
Barbara had been telling me about her life in America where
she’d gone just before her eleventh birthday.
‘I was absolutely devastated when my father told me we were
going,’ she said. ‘I remember I cried all night and most of the next
day, but nothing I said seemed to matter. He had kept it from me
right until the last moment, probably because he knew how I would
react. Suddenly I found myself on a plane and away. It was the
most miserable time of my life. I must have cried every night for
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the first year,’ she said.
Barbara was sitting with her back against the stump of an old oak
tree. Her hands were clasped together around her knees, which
she’d drawn right up almost to her chin. I was stretched out on the
short grass, having a smoke. I’d cut down a lot since coming back,
but one after a meal was still great.
‘I remember being really upset when I went up to the house and
found it empty. I thought you’d run out on me. There was nobody
left.’
‘My father never told me why he decided to leave, but it was
quick. He’d been offered a consultancy in Vermont, but he’d had
such offers before and disregarded them. His practice here was
running well. I’ve got the feeling he just wanted me to grow up
somewhere else. It’s strange though, when he decided to move
back, there was no question in my mind I’d come back too. And
after all that time, it was a wonderful feeling to be coming home.’
‘It was just after the accident, wasn’t it?’
‘What was?’
‘When you went away.’
‘Oh, you mean down at the point?’
‘No, Ardhmor.’
‘Ah, that was it. Yes. I think so. Not long after that.’
‘Maybe your father thought you had bad company. But I felt as if
I’d been deserted. Colin was in the hospital for months and you
were gone to America. There was nobody 1eft.’
Barbara leaned forward, away from the tree stump, trying to see
what her daughter was doing further upstream.
‘She’s all right. I can see her from here. She’s as happy as hell,
but she must have anti-freeze in her feet.’
Barbara smiled. ‘We used to spend a lot of time in the stream, I
remember. The one and onlies. How did we ever come to call
ourselves that?’
‘Colin made it up. He thought we were unique}
‘Yes, I remember now. The one and onlies. It seemed to fit right,
didn’t it?’
‘Like an exclusive club. We had some great times.’
‘Yes, we did. My father didn’t approve of you two.’
‘I can’t blame him. We were a bit wild,’ I said. ‘But you were just
as bad as the two of us.’
‘What the hell were we doing down at that place?’ she asked.
‘Where?’
‘That rock. Ardhmorf
‘I haven’t a clue. It’s strange. I hadn’t thought about it for years
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until I came back, and then a couple of people reminded me.
Really, I just hadn’t thought about it at a1l.’
‘Neither did I. I just remembered it the day I met you down at
the supermarket. I mean, I remembered what I’d been told about
it, but I can’t remember anything at all, subjectively.’
‘Have you seen Colin?’
‘God yes. I really had no idea. I was walking along the street with
Paddy and this great thing lumbered out of a shop and started
giggling at her and nodding. He tried to take her hand and I let out
a yell. Hell, I didn’t even know who it was.
‘He jumped back as soon as I shouted at him and then he started
to cry. I felt a bit silly afterwards, and a bit ashamed, but I really
didn’t know about him. He’s so . . . differentf
‘They call him Badger, you know.’
‘Yes, I heard. I suppose it suits him with that funny hair, but it’s a
real shame. He was really so bright and adventurous. It’s as if
there’s nothing there inside his head. Paddy and I have passed him
by a few times down at the shops. She isn’t bothered. He just stands
and smiles, like a big shy kid, and she makes a point of saying hello.
Children are instinctive about that sort of thing, but mothers are
different. I know he doesn’t mean any harm, but I can’t identify
Badger with Colin Blackwood}
‘Poor guy. He was pretty battered, so I’m told. What a waste.
I’ve seen him down in Holly’s bar. They give him a lemonade
shandy and he sits quietly and watches everything that goes on like
a bewildered child. I don’t know how much of it he understands.
It’s as if a switch has been clicked off inside his head.
‘It could have been you, or me.’
Barbara shuddered: ‘Oh, don’t say that. I’ve always been
terrified of brain damage. A friend of mine in the States was in a car
smash and ended up in a coma. When she came out of it she was
pretty near a vegetable. I was so screwed up I couldn’t go to visit
her, because it really wasn’t her. I’ve got some sort of phobia, as if
I’m scared it’s infectious and I’ll end up like that.’
‘Let’s talk about something less morbid.’
‘How about Paddy?’ I ventured. ‘I’m still amazed at how much
she’s taken after you. I swear that when I first saw her I thought I
was in a time warp.’
‘She’s a good kid.’
‘Yeah, I can see that. I wonder if she’s as wild as you were.’
‘I wasn’t wild. Maybe just a bit wilful. I could climb trees as well
as you.’
‘Probably better. You were an honorary boy to us. That was the
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biggest accolade you could get.’ I turned and looked her up and
down with a mock leer. ‘I suppose I’ll have to withdraw that
honour.’
Babs blushed. ‘I’ve had twenty years to grow out of it, plus,’ she
said, nodding towards where Paddy was still splashing in the water,
‘somebody to take over where I left off}
‘Iust as long as she stays away from kids like me, she’ll be all
right.’
We both looked towards the stream where a flash of lights
sparkled. Paddy was standing in the water up to her knees, and
with one outstretched hand she was sweeping the surface of the
water, sending up a coruscating curve of droplets.
‘Look. Look at this. I can make a rainbow,’ she cried in delight.
Barbara and I watched, laughing as the sunlight caught the
shimmering droplets and laced them with colour. Paddy turned
towards us with a wide smile on her face, and suddenly I was ten
years old again and Barbara was . . .
. . . standing in the water up to her knees, and with one hand
outstretched she was sweeping the surface of the shallow stream,
sending up a coruscating curve of droplets.
‘Look. I can make a rainbow. ’
Colin and I were sitting on a rock that sat in the middle of
Strowan’s Water. He was whittling the point of a stick that he’d cut
for an arrow. I had my head in my hands, feeling the sun on the back
of my neck. We watched as Barbara squealed with delight, sending
up rainbows into the air.
The stream gurgled softly through the glade, murmuring as it
meandered through the shallow gully, down towards the bridge and
on to the jirth. It was one of those days that you could feel and smell
and hear. The air was warm and still, sultry with pollen that settled
on the surface of the little pools. Bees and insects buzzed in the trees
and bushes and an occasional dragonfly would dart out like a fighter
plane and buzz the calm surface, scooping up the mayflies as they
hatched out. There was the smell of green that went with the
dappling shadows on the water, and there was the delicious smell of
pinewood smoke. A cuckoo called in the distance and wood pigeons
threw their voices from the great branches hanging down from the
beech and lime trees that lined the clearing.
Colin was using the sharp end ofthe slender stick to scrape off thin
lines of moss that lined the back of the stone, and Barbara, with her
slacks rolled up over her knees, was a tousle—headed pirouetting
figure of an undine, delighting in the play of sun and water. z
A fly buzzed up near my ear and I lazily swatted it.
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‘We could live here, you know, ’ Colin said. ‘There’s rabbits and
fish and lots 0f things to eat. ’
‘Yeah, we could build a hut here. Maybe up in a tree. Nobody
would ever know we were here. ’ The idea had enormous appeal. I
picked up my bow and nocked an arrow on the string. ‘I could be
Robin Hood, ’ I said, and let an arrow fly into the air where it curved
lazily and landed in a tree. It failed to come down again.
‘I’d love to stay here, ’ Barbara said, ‘but my father would never let
me. ’
‘We’ll just have to run away, ’ Colin said. ‘M y mum would kill me
when I got back. ’
‘Don’t be silly. If you run away you don’t go back. ’
‘Well, I think we should build a gang hut where we can keep all
our bows and arrows and stuff and come here anytime we like, even
when it’s raining. ’
‘Great, and we can bring things to sit on, and even a bed and pots
and pans, and all that. ’
‘And nobody would ever know, if we hide it well enough. ’
‘It would be just our place. For just the three of us, ’ Barbara said.
We found an overhang later that afternoon and started piling up
logs against it like a lean-to. The gales in the winter had dropped a
couple of tall pines that had broken up, and there were any number
of big branches that had snapped off the lime and beech trees. It
didn ’t take long to build a shelter that could take the three of us fairly
comfortably. We grunted with strain as we rolled up three fair—sized
flat stones to sit on and Barbara and I collected clumps of fern and
bracken to cover the gang hut with. lt was rough and ready and
pretty cramped — there was no way we’d get chairs inside, never
mind a bed — but it was dry and well camouflaged against raiders.
And it was our secret.
The lean-to in the overhang ofthe rock in the clearing at Strowan ’s
Water was our place for the summer, our special hideout, our
headquarters and our galleon, whatever we wanted it to be in those
long days, but there was something special about the day that we
built it- that day when Barbara had stood in the water and swept up
a rainbow, and Colin had caught the jish. It was a day when the
insects murmured softly and the stream gabbled its way through the
rocks and I felt the sun on the back of my neck and . . .
Somebody shook me gently by the shoulder.
I started out of my daydream and Barbara was saying
something.
‘You were miles away,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d fallen asleep.’
‘Not so many miles, but a long way,’ I said, shaking my head. ‘I
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was thinking about the hideout.’
‘So was I. That’s one of the most amazing coincidences. It must
be twenty years since I last thought about that.’
‘It was just when Paddy . . .’
‘Said she could make a rainbow,’ Barbara finished for me. ‘Yes,
as soon as she said that I could see myself doing it down at the
stream. The whole picture just came into my head, complete, like a
iilm out of an archive.’
‘Déja vu, or something, they call it. No, more like a memory
trigger. I was just thinking of that time, remembering how good I
felt then. Those were the days.’
‘But they didn’t last,’ she said, almost wistfully.
‘No, nothing ever does. You went off to America and Colin was
in hospital and even when he came out there wasn’t anything left of
the one and onlies. I stayed round at my grandfather’s a lot after
that, because I couldn’t be bothered with anything else. I suppose I
became a bit of a loner then.’ g
‘Me too. It took me a long time to forgive my father for taking
me away. I remember thinking then that you two were the best
friends anybody could have.’
‘I suppose all childhoods are like that. You think you’re going to
be friends for ever, but it hardly ever happens.’
‘I’ll tell you something, though,’ Barbara said, sitting with her
arms crossed over her knees again. ‘Nothing was the same again. I
mean I’ve had some interesting times growing up in America, but
there was nothing to make it sparkle. I went to school, and then
college, and then I sort of drifted into marriage, and it was as if I
was just going through the motions.
‘And then Paddy came along, and the sparkle came back. It was
as if everything was in black and white and then went into full
technicolour. She brought the magic back into my life, like nothing
else could.’
‘You’re lucky,’ I said, looking over to where the little girl was
wading in the stream, her jeans rolled up over her knees, and her
tanned, well—shaped legs cutting bow waves in the water. ‘She’s a
lovely girl.’
‘I suppose you’re going to say she takes after her mother,’ g
Barbara said, and laughed softly.
‘You can hardly deny maternity, can you? Yes she does take
after her mother, and if she keeps on going she’ll be every bit as
beautiful as her mother is.’
‘Oh Nick. I believe you just made a pass,’ she said with a wry
smile.
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