Unforeseen Revelations

Richard’s degree in Architecture and Design had opened doors for him, which led to him getting a good job in Italy. But when the recession hit, the price he needed to pay for his job was too high, not in monetary values, but in personal integrity and time. That had been several years ago, still his mother would have been proud of him, she died a couple of years before he had stood there, on the stage, wearing his cap and gown to receive his graduation certificate.

Now, he had just arrived back in England and he had nowhere to live. His aunt had died a year after his mother, and he was living with the fact that all his known family had now gone, and he was on his own. Sometimes it left him feeling down, but not for long.

There was never a father figure on the scene, since Richard was about eight. The only memories he had of his father, were implanted by his aunt, who had always disliked the men in her sister’s life. Her particular dislike for his father were two fold, one because he was always drunk and the other because he was too old. Although Richard could only ever remember one, the fact that he did always seem to be drunk.

He and his mother had never been close, but it was still a traumatic time when she died, and it was only the act of going to university that helped him get through. His mother’s sister, Deidre, had taken them both in when his mother first started having health problems, and was getting behind with the rent. At first she was reluctant but she could not see her sister out on the streets, and even though she was a little scatty, she eventually accepted the inevitable.

For a couple of years every day passed with the household teetering on the verge of all out war. Then, after his mother died, Richard tried to stay away from the cottage as much as possible and when he was there, he kept to his room. But all that was in the past, now he realised that one of the downsides of a family living in rented accommodation, is that when the tenancy holder died it is not a pre-requisite that any remaining family could stay in the property. He was away at university when his Aunt passed away and had been abroad ever since, and now he found himself back in England with very little money and nowhere to live.

The years in between leaving England and coming back had taught him a lot about life. The total sum of his worldly possessions amounted to virtually just what he stood up in, or carried in the battered rucksack, oh, and of course a few books, somewhere in Edinburgh. All the time that he had been travelling had left him much wiser, and although now thirty four years old, he still looked ten years younger.

When he scrubbed up he had been told he was quite handsome, with his swarthy complexion and dark hair that had a tendency to want to curl a little. After he finally graduated from university he had left some books with a friend, with the promise that when he had got rid of his wander lust, he would come and collect them. The years of university had been hard, and he thought he had learnt a lot, but the years following that had been a great eye opener. He had seen a lot of the world and had made some money in the process, but to coin a phrase, wine women and song had seen to that, now he was back with only a few pounds in his pocket but much wiser. He was on his way to make good his promise, that once he was back, his first port of call would be Edinburgh.

Jenny, a pretty Scottish girl, who had been a major part of his life during their time at university, moved back to Scotland after graduating. Although they had been on and off lovers, they were not in love. They were for all intents and purposes best friends. When she was feeling down she could rely on him to comfort her and vice versa. His last words to her were a promise to come up to her home in Edinburgh, to collect his books and to talk through his plans. Plans that, at the time she was hoping would include her, although neither of them knew just how long he was going to be away. All through his life he had never broken a promise, and here he was, sitting in the cab of a truck that had seen better days, on its way to Moffat, a small town only twenty five miles from Edinburgh. It had been too good a lift to turn down, and although he was a few years later than he expected, he was still honouring his promise. The sudden cessation of movement woke Richard up with a start. As he blinked his eyes to try and understand where he was, his memory was still foggy when a nearby voice jogged him back to the here and now.

Time to wake up, this is as far as I go. The voice was deep and gravelly and it fitted its owner well.

Sorry, I must have fallen asleep, where are we? Richard asked looking round out of the cab window.

We’re in Moffat, and it’s nearly eleven o’clock. Out you get!

Thanks for the lift, sorry I wasn’t much company. He said as he climbed out of the cab. The driver nodded.

Any idea how far it is to Edinburgh?

It’s about three quarters of an hour, in this traffic. The cab door slammed shut and the wagon moved forward, turning left off the main road, up a small lane, and within seconds it was out of sight.

Richard walked a short distance along the main road before the town centre burst into life before him. It looked like it was market day. This part of the road was packed with cars, pickups and all manner of rusting vans, all parked, and all empty, except for some which seemed to be home to some farm dogs, taking the opportunity to catch up on sleep in the passenger seats.

The market was bustling with people milling about between the stalls which were pitched on a cobbled area down the centre of the town. This area in between two roads seemed to run from one end of the town to the other. From the road signs at the side of the busy area, he could see the market was situated on the town car park, hence the vehicles parked all down the road side, which he had just passed.

Looking round he noticed a large crowd gathering around one stall in particular. His curiosity got the better of him and Richard started to walk over to the crowd. He noticed the stall he was heading for, was placed next to a carved stone ram set high on rocks and surrounded by a small, wrought iron fence. As he got nearer he stopped just as the crowd parted and a giant of a man, with a huge bushy beard and long red hair tied in a pony tail, walked away from the stall. All the people, without exception, watched the modern day Neanderthal as he took huge strides over to the pub with a swinging sign, hanging on chains, saying THE SCOTSMAN. The crowd were soon back facing the stall and raising their voices again. Richard could see that the young woman behind the double length fruit and vegetable stall was just overwhelmed with people waving their arms, trying to get served. He stopped and watched for a minute before he walked round the back of the stall and, placing his bag on the floor, he draped his well worn army surplus combat jacket over the top of it, before he started serving people. The young woman, whose age he guessed at as being late twenties, to early thirties, just stopped and looked at him with a very indignant look on her face but the customers were just holding out hands full of produce trying to get his attention. He felt sure she was about to tell him to leave when he asked how much the potatoes were that a customer was handing to him.

One pound twenty. She replied with a quite pleasant, lyrical but still indignant Scottish accent. He took the money from the customer and placed it in a plastic container behind him. He looked at her, raised his eyebrows, smiled, and just carried on serving. At first she looked at him every time he took money but after a short while she just accepted it. Eventually the crowd dispersed and without a word he bent down to pick up his bag.

Hey, hold on a minute, she had her arm outstretched and was reaching to grab hold of him.

Thank you, there was a pause whilst she gathered her thoughts.

Thank you for the help!

You’re welcome, but I really think you either need a smaller stall or more help! Her eyes were searching his handsome face, she was looking for some reason not to trust the man but she failed.

I am Mary, by the way, and you are? Her eyes were opened wide in anticipation of his reply.

Richard! He replied offering her his hand to shake. The fact that all of his exposed skin was tanned had not escaped her notice. His immediate thoughts were that she was from a well to do Scottish family, this was based solely on her accent, which was soft and gentle, with her words perfectly formed. She looked again at his tanned face, piercing blue eyes and unblemished skin. Automatically estimating his age as early to mid twenties, eventually she settled her inner turmoil with twenty four.

Just wait, please, have you got a minute? Her voice was definitely softly pleading and not as harsh or guttural, as some of the accents that he was hearing from people at her stall. He nodded as she went to serve another customer.

Would you like a cup of tea? she waited only a second or two for a response but got none.

I will pay but, could you go and get them from Maria’s coffee bar, over there in the corner?

Her teeth were clamped tight as she forced a none too convincing smile, as she pointed to a small café next to a hotel with a sign saying. ‘The Narrowest Hotel in the World’ fixed on the wall. The café had square, Georgian style, yellow painted window frames that surround numerous panes of steamed up glass.

I need to stay here on the stall. She added as she gave him some change from the plastic container he had been putting money in.

I’ll have two sugars--- please.

He got the impression that she was not used to saying please, but thought no more about it as he made his way to the small yellow shop in the corner. The café was busy hence the steamed up windows. The inside was brightly painted to give the appearance that the sun was shining and the chairs surrounding the six or eight tables were moulded red plastic. As busy at it was in the café, the service was quick, but the young woman serving him hardly had time to smile. This time he did not have the urge to help. Holding the two mugs of tea, they stood at the back of the stall talking in between serving customers.

Rabbie, he’s my brother, he is supposed to be here helping, but as usual he’s off somewhere, probably in The Scotsman drinking and playing cards.

Was he the big guy I saw walking away from the stall before?

The way she spoke made him think that there was no love lost between sister and brother.

No, God no, that was Hector Munroe. He and his brothers seem to run every kind of scam there is around here. He was asking after my brother, as usual, Rabbie owes them money.

Does he make a habit of leaving you to run the stall?

He makes a habit out of drinking and playing cards, once again she was spitting out the words.

So tell me what are you doing here? Her tone was much softer this time, as he opened his mouth to reply she was once again up and serving a customer. She seemed to be relaxing now and her face was much brighter, her pale, smooth complexion emphasising her large brown eyes. She was not a large woman by any means but the clothing she was wearing, blue jeans a large red woolly jumper, with a matching knitted hat and leather boots, did nothing to disclose if she had any shape at all. She took a sneaky look at Richard as he was looking out of the stall at the surrounding square, well at least he was clean and tidy was all she thought.

You were about to tell me what you are doing here? Richard told her the story from about when he was ten and the life he had with his mother and her sister, right up until he left university and went abroad.

Where are you going too next?

Well the plan was to head for Edinburgh, I have a friend up there, she took all my books with her when I went travelling, but the lift I managed to get was only going this far.

Where are you staying? She wished she had not asked as soon as the words were out of her lips.

Haven’t thought that ahead far yet! She dropped the conversation to serve again. Richard picked up his bag and before she knew it he was out the front of the stall.

Thanks for the tea, he shouted to her but before she could reply he had been swallowed up by the market day shoppers.

He spent most of the afternoon just looking round the relatively small town and about five o’clock he sat on a bench outside the town hall, every now and then he looked at the clouds which were gathering ominously. It was as he was sitting here that he saw a road sign pointing to Edinburgh. He decided that he needed to try for Edinburgh tonight. Getting up from the bench he started to walk up the road and he immediately started to thumb a lift again. He had been walking and thumbing for about half an hour when it started to rain. The rain eventually turned into a down pour. Getting more desperate and wetter by the minute he decided that he needed to turn and face the cars as they passed, his idea was to make eye contact but more often than not the cars had past him before he heard them.

A large white van, well more of a rust coloured van with sporadic blobs of white on it, passed him and as he spun round to watch it pass, he could just make out the break light go on through the rain. He ran up to the passenger door and opened it.

Thanks for stop…. he cut short his rehearsed speech. The driver was the young woman from the market stall.

I thought it was you, I’m not going far, but I could give you a lift as far as I can. She smiled as he accepted and climbed in the cab.

So you decided to try for Edinburgh tonight eh! Oh, well it may be a long walk in the rain, there’s normally a fair bit of traffic about on this road at night and if there is, they’re not likely to stop for a stranger, especially in the dusk.

You did! She cocked her head to one side as she looked at him.

Yes but we had met before, remember. They drove a short while before she spoke again.

Thanks for the help today, I tried to catch you before you left but I missed you.

It was nothing, I just thought you could do with some help. She nodded her head hardly taking her eyes from the road through the driving rain.

If you’re not in too much of a rush, I am going home to have some supper, there should be plenty if you would like some?

Thanks, but is there nobody at home who will think it odd for you to bring a total stranger home?

There’s only my dad and he’ll be asleep in the chair, Rabbie will be home late if he comes home at all.

Well thank you, the prospect of some warm, home cooked food does sound enticing! The rain hammering on the windscreen was relentless, and Mary was constantly wiping the steamed up windscreen with an old cloth she kept conveniently on the dashboard.

So, have you spent all your time since university, travelling?

No, when I left university I managed to get a great job with an Italian Company, designing the interiors of luxurious apartments and houses.

Wow that sounds interesting, what happened?

Things were going great, and I was making really good money, but in that industry you have to be seen and known, so I would spend a lot on socialising.

Did you meet some nice people?

I met a few, very nice, genuine people, but I met a lot of not so nice people who pretended to be genuine.

Well you seem to have escaped unscathed?

Escaped, yes! But only by the skin of my teeth! When the business started to struggle, we had no idea that it was the start of a recession. One minute we were rushed off our feet and the next nothing. We were told we had to increase sales, at the same time to use cheaper materials and less labour. The pressure was enormous. A lot of my colleagues got severely depressed and quite a few started taking drugs to lift them out of the depths. I thought that my conscience, and health were too high a price to pay, so I opted out. Most of the people I thought of as friends and girl friends disappeared as soon as the money dried up, so I made a decision and started to travel. And here I am.

Just as he stopped talking she turned the van into a narrow gateway that led onto a very over grown track, heading towards some buildings he could just make out. The grass on the track must have come half way up the grill of the van.

Looks like the track could do with a bit of mowing. He heard her sigh.

Yes, Rabbie has been going to do it for a few weeks now, but as usual he talks a lot and does very little.

The van passed the first building on the right. It was an old stone barn with, what looked like a large, rotten, timber door leaning at a peculiar angle to the opening in the wall. Mary stopped the van in a cobbled area, interspersed with tufts of grass. In front was what looked to be a whitewashed farmhouse, not very big and with a few small windows. Some of the windows appeared to be patched with cardboard or something in a similar colour, just to the left was another barn. The position of the barn overlapped the end of the farmhouse, but they were separate buildings. This barn had two doors, one a large sliding door that was half open, and another small door made up of wooden planks. The door to the farm house was hidden from his view behind the barn. Mary climbed out of the van followed by Richard. She pointed to the first barn that they had passed,

Why don’t you wait in there, it’s the only one that doesn’t leak. I’ll sort out some food and bring it over. Here, you will need this. She had retrieved a storm lantern from just inside the open door to the other barn. Searching her pockets she produced some matches and passed them to him. Richard looked a little puzzled. She could see the look on his face and decided she needed to explain.

Listen, you don’t want to be in this house with him! she threw her head back over her shoulder.

I’ll have to wake him up and he’s always like a bear with a sore bum, when he is woken. Richard understood her reasoning and made his way to the barn. As he walked the short distance he could hear her voice as she shouted.

Dad I’m back!

Chapter 2

As Richard struck a match and lit the lantern, he stood motionless as he looked round the run down building. His first thoughts were that the inside of the barn was like a scrap yard, there appeared to be every conceivable type of broken machinery in there. Over to the right, through the gloom he could just make out the outline of a tractor, there were carts, a scarifier and piles of wooden crates, up above these there appeared to be a floor. Over to the left under the left hand part of the upper floor, was what he could only assume was some-one’s attempt to make a tack room, the makeshift wooden wall had a door frame but no door. He moved towards the makeshift wall and as he stood in the doorway to the tack room he could see that inside the room there were dozens of huge rusty nails in the walls. Most were just nails, but some still had leather straps and halters and other pieces of horse equipment, which he could not put a name to hanging from them.

One thing he knew for sure was that everything was thick in dust. He could see other stuff hanging from the beams that supported floor above. On the outside of the room there was an old work bench pushed up against the tack room wall. The top of the bench was littered with hand tools, mostly broken. He could see a large rusting vice fitted on the bench and when he tried to move the vice handle he was surprised that it still worked. If he was going to stay here for the night, he decided that the best option was to clear the bench. ‘Well, at least it’s off the floor,’ he thought to himself. The broken shafts of spades, forks and even a pick axe handle he placed one by one at the side of the main entrance to the barn, just leaning against the only unoccupied piece of wall. There was a huge double handed scythe lying under a pile of broken garden tools, which he presumed belonged to the shafts he had just moved. He touched the double handed scythe’s blade and in his mind, he thought you could ride bare arsed to London on this and never even get a cut.

He moved it over to the right of the bench, his subconscious reasoning was that this tool was not broken, so keep it away from the rest. Moving the hammers, nails, pincers, pliers and files into the drawer under the bench, he soon could see wooden planks which made up the top of the bench. If he could find a brush he would sweep it, but this seemed to be the only implement missing.

Mary rushed out of the rain and into the barn. Over her head, to keep the weather off her and the food, was an old fawn raincoat with dirty cuffs and collar. She was carrying a bowl, with a plate of bread on top in her right hand, and her left hand was holding the raincoat above her head and off her face. As she entered the barn she lifted her left arm a little and the raincoat slid to the floor behind her. She took one long look at the bench before speaking.

Wow! You’ve been busy! I’ve never seen the top of that bench before!

"Well I thought