Питер Мэй - I'll Keep You Safe

I told him all about my ambitions to work in the clothing industry. But also of my unhappiness, even after just a few days, with my choice of textile college at Galashiels, in the Scottish Borders. Too far from home without friends. Forced to remain in the student halls of residence while the girls from Glasgow or Edinburgh went home at weekends. I was dreading going back for another year.

For both of us the summer at Linshader was an escape from all that. An idyll that we could never have imagined in the months preceding it. But happiness so intense can’t last. And it was mid-August when an incident on the water system changed everything.

It was one of those perfect summer nights. The world had turned a little by now, and it was getting darker earlier. Though there was still light in the sky, the stars stood out like crystal studs. The Milky Way was like breath misting on glass. A gibbous moon shed its colourless light across the hills, and almost everyone was gathered around the fire on the beach.

Our sing-song was interrupted by Staines, the gamekeeper, and one of the watchers, a sixteen-year-old lad called Calum. Calum had spotted a party of poachers out on the top loch, not far from Macphail’s Island, in the basin where the Langavat River ran into the loch, opposite a rock called Gibraltar.

‘If we’re quick we’ll catch them,’ Staines said breathlessly. ‘They’re laying nets. I want all the ghillies with me. The rest of the watchers are waiting for us up there.’

To my disappointment, Ruairidh was on his feet in an instant and heading off with the rest of the boys. They were quickly swallowed up by the night. I had grown so used to spending my nights with him and sleeping all afternoon that I was at a complete loss. The prospect of passing the rest of the evening round the fire with the girls was less than appealing, particularly in the company of Seonag, whom I had been assiduously avoiding. So I got up and said, ‘Might as well have an early night, then.’ I didn’t wait to see if anyone else was going to join me, hurrying off back up the path to the lodge.

My body clock was not accustomed to my being in bed this early, and I lay awake in the dark for what seemed like hours. I was aware of my roommate coming to bed around midnight, but didn’t let on I was awake. Within minutes I heard her slow, steady breathing as she slipped off to sleep long before me.

I had a tortured night, tossing and turning, drifting in and out of dreams until the alarm went at six.

I saw Ruairidh briefly after breakfast, when we were handing out the packed lunches to the guests. He looked grey and tired and just shook his head when I raised an eyebrow in query. I was anxious to hear what had happened.

There were rumours among the girls, of course, during the day. About some kind of violent confrontation and arrests by the police. But it wasn’t until that night that I got the full story. As soon as we could, Ruairidh and I slipped off along the shore and made the slippery crossing over seaweed and stones to Eilean Teine. The night was still warm, but midges swarming around the old ruin forced us to light a fire. By its flame I watched Ruairidh’s face as he recounted what had happened the previous night.

‘It was a bunch of teenagers,’ he said. ‘A couple of lads from Balanish and, we think, three from Bragar. But we only caught the one.’ He shook his head. ‘They hadn’t a clue what they were doing. I think one of them had been out with some real poachers and thought he knew how it was done.’ He blew air in frustration through pursed lips. ‘Their net was full of holes for a start, and they had no real idea how or where to lay it. Just lads out for a bit of a lark, really.’

‘What happened?’

‘They didn’t even know we were there until we jumped them. There was a bit of a rammy in the dark, and four of them went haring away across the hills. I caught the other one. I always wondered if my rugby days would serve any purpose in real life.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I brought him down with a beauty of a tackle, shoulder in behind the knees. He fell like a sack of tatties. It wasn’t until we got him to his feet that I realized who he was.’ He dragged his eyes away from the flames where they had been replaying the events of the night before and looked at me. ‘You know him, too. He’d have been in your year. Iain Maciver. Lives just down the road from me.’

I nodded. I knew exactly who he meant. A thickset boy, dark hair cut in the classic Lewis fringe, dividing his forehead laterally in half. Not the best-looking lad, but bright. My age. Just eighteen. I’d heard he’d got himself into Glasgow University, studying Gaelic. He was known universally as Peanut , because of his predilection for the Reese’s Peanut Cups they sold at Woolies in Stornoway. Which were the probable cause of the spots that had gathered themselves around his nose and mouth and forehead during his early teens, leaving him now with badly pockmarked skin.

Ruairidh returned his eyes to the flames. ‘So Staines insists on calling the police. Peanut’s begging him not to. It’ll mean a criminal record, something that could affect him for the rest of his life. I pulled Staines to one side and said we could just give him a bollocking. Put the fear of God into him. He’d never do it again. But Staines didn’t want to know. He had a real ugly look on his face and he said to me, “These fuckers need taught a lesson!” And that was it. We took the boy back down to the road and the cops were waiting for us.’

‘That’s pretty shitty,’ I said.

He nodded. ‘It was. And I’m sure Peanut blames me. I was the one that brought him down.’ He shook his head then, frustration and anger etched all over his face. ‘And the worst of it is, I’ve been hearing all day how Staines himself is in with the real poachers. A lucrative wee sideline. Just rumours, mind. But it would explain why he was so keen to warn off anyone else.’

‘Jesus! Do you think that’s true?’

‘I don’t know.’ He breathed his helplessness at the night. ‘But what I do know is that the boy’s been charged. He’ll appear at the Sheriff Court in Stornoway, and I’ll probably be called to give evidence. It’ll bring shame on his family. My neighbours. And could well ruin his chances of getting a job in the future. Employers don’t like kids with criminal records.’

The whole incident cast a gloom over the lodge in the days that followed. Ruairidh was more subdued than I’d known him all summer, and I saw him on several occasions being short with Staines. Had he been able to verify the rumours I believe he might well have been tempted to put his fist in the man’s face. Then one evening he said to me, ‘Let’s go up to Macphail’s Island.’ We hadn’t been for some time, and I think it was Ruairidh’s way of trying to break out of his depression.

It was not the best of weather. There was low cloud, and a light smirr blowing down off the hills. We had to wear our waterproofs for the trip up the water system, and it was hard to see with rapidly fading light and no moon.

It was too wet to sit out once we got to Macphail’s, and so we huddled together in the lunch hut, drinking wine and saying very little. A comfortable, comforting silence. A shared sadness that needed no words. Just understanding. We smoked a couple of joints, held hands and kissed, but sex was never on the agenda for either of us. And it was not long after midnight when we set off in the boat again to head back to the lodge.

Ruairidh had to navigate us into the slipway at Skunk Point by the light of a torch. We had just clambered out of the boat and were pulling it out of the water when half a dozen shadows detached themselves from the darkness. A group of youths who had been waiting for us in the still of the night. I was knocked backwards into shallow water and screamed as the group of young men surrounded Ruairidh. I scrambled to my feet and saw him fighting like fury, but he was hopelessly outnumbered. They dragged him down to the ground, and boots went pounding into his stomach and chest and back as he curled up to try and protect himself. I screamed again, wading out of the water and throwing myself at his attackers. Punching, kicking, until an elbow in my face brought light flashing in my eyes and knocked me back off my feet.