Ca’ the yowes
Ranald Braveheart Macpherson was reported missing less than thirty minutes after he walked out of Albert Terrace, bound for Waverley Station. It was not until the next day, though, that a general alert went out to the police and public throughout Scotland to be on the lookout for him. And by that time, of course, Bertie’s absence was similarly made public. It required little thought thereafter to conclude that the two boys had absconded together, and the bulletins were adjusted accordingly. Look out for this boy became Look out for these boys, with a photograph below of the two friends standing together, smiling into the camera – a moment of happiness caught by Nicola when she photographed them playing Jacobites and Hanoverians in Drummond Place Garden.
For the adults it was a time of chilling desolation and relentless anxiety. Stuart was beside himself and had to be calmed by Nicola, who did her best to reassure him that the two boys would undoubtedly turn up before the day was out. “Boys tend to do this sort of thing,” she said. “They get an idea in their heads and act on it without thinking. They’ll be fine.”
Stuart’s state of mind was scarcely improved by a series of recriminatory phone calls from Irene. Bertie must have run away because Stuart had encouraged him to get back to Edinburgh; the blame, by this logic, was entirely his, and how did he feel about it? “If you feel that you should reproach yourself,” she continued, “then you are absolutely right. You should. This is your doing, Stuart.”
Stuart had struggled to control himself. He wanted to point out that Bertie had run away from Aberdeen because he did not want to be there. He could have said that this was Irene’s fault, for insisting that Bertie should spend time with her, but he did not. There was no point in rubbing salt into any wounds, and part of him felt a real sympathy for Irene. So he ended up saying, “Take a deep breath, Irene. Bertie will be all right. This is a childish escapade that will soon blow over.”
When it became apparent that this was all a joint enterprise between the two boys, Ranald Braveheart Macpherson’s father, thinking that Ranald and Bertie might be wandering around Aberdeen, decided to drive there immediately and to start scouring the streets for any sign of the boys. It was better than sitting at home and fretting, he decided.
Of course, the searches that were conducted in Edinburgh and Aberdeen, including a thorough search of Drummond Place Gardens, Queen Street Gardens, and the Scotland Street tunnel, were destined to reveal nothing, as Bertie and Ranald by this time were in Inverurie, north of Aberdeen, examining the timetable of train departures displayed on the main platform of the railway station.
“We’re going to have to wait for hours,” said Bertie despondently. “Hardly any of these trains go to Edinburgh, Ranald.”
Ranald looked anxiously at his friend. “Couldn’t we hitch-hike,” Bertie?” he asked. “I saw people do that in a film once. They stood at the side of the road and held out their thumbs. A car stopped and took them.”
“We could try,” said Bertie.
“But then in the film the people who stopped were bank robbers,” Ranald continued. “They were being chased by the police.”
“Maybe not then,” said Bertie.
It was while this conversation was taking place that Bertie noticed a boy walking towards them on the platform. He was a few years older than they were, Bertie thought, but his expression was friendly and he seemed keen to speak to them. “You seen my Dad?” the boy asked. Bertie shook his head.
“He was going to pick me up here,” the boy said. “We’re taking some yowes down to Lanark – although we’re going to my auntie’s place in Balerno first.”
“I haven’t seen him,” said Bertie. Then he thought: Balerno. Balerno was just outside Edinburgh – on the edge of the city. He looked at the boy.
“Can we come with you?” he asked. The boy frowned. “In the back of the lorry? You wouldn’t mind travelling with the yowes in the back?”
“No,” said Bertie. “We wouldn’t mind, would we Ranald?”
Ranald looked doubtful, but eventually nodded.
“Because my Dad might not say yes if I ask him whether you can sit in the cab with us.”
“Of course,” said Bertie. “But don’t worry, we’ll sneak in. He won’t see us.”
“In that case, you can come,” said the boy. “And that’s him coming. See that lorry over there? That’s him.”
Smuggled into the back of the lorry, they set off. Buffeted by the sheep, Bertie and Ranald eventually found a place to sit, and spent the next few hours in the rough warmth and odour of a herd of Scottish Blackface ewes. By the time the lorry drew up in Balerno, in the driveway of a well-set bungalow in a quiet street, Bertie and Ranald had had more than enough of their ovine travelling companions and were happy to start the walk back along the Water of Leith pathway. Signs erected for hikers obligingly showed them the way, and within a couple of hours, having said goodbye to one another under the towering arches of the Slateford aqueduct, they were standing before their respective front doors, worried about being scolded for absenting themselves, but relieved at having found their way home so easily.
Nicola opened the door to Bertie and fell upon him with shouts of inarticulate delight. Stuart appeared and picked him up bodily, hugging him so tight that Bertie struggled for breath. Similar scenes took place at Ranald Braveheart Macpherson’s house, although Ranald’s father was still in Aberdeen and was obliged to enthuse by telephone.
Nicola put Bertie straight into the bath and washed away the smell of sheep. “It could have been worse,” she said. “It could have been pigs.” Then, when he was thoroughly washed, and clad now in fresh clothing, she heard his account of his escape.
“I wasn’t happy in Aberdeen,” Bertie said.
‘Later, Nicola tried to work out how Irene could have managed such a volte-face. There are roads to
Damascus, she told herself. People travel on them’
“Please don’t make me go back.”
“Of course we won’t,” Nicola promised. It fell to Stuart to inform Irene of Bertie’s safe return. “And I’m afraid he won’t be coming back up,” he said.
There was an ominous silence at the other end of the line. Then Irene’s voice, severe and threatening, broke the silence. “We shall see about that,” she said.
Nicola grabbed the phone from Stuart. “You listen to me, Irene Pollock,” she said. “Bertie has voted with his feet. Do you understand that? With his feet. And let me make this one hundred per cent clear, in case you haven’t taken it in: Bertie stays here. Full stop. End of story. Here, Scotland Street.”
Bertie listened. He did not like conflict. He knew that his mother wanted the best for him. He knew that his grandmother wanted the same thing. And his father too. They all wanted the best for him. And that made him feel a whole lot better. He imagined how hard it would be to go through life without anybody at all wanting the best for you.
Bertie was composed of love – pure love. He wanted nobody to be unhappy. He wanted them to enjoy their lives. He wanted that so much – more than he could express, in fact.
He went to Nicola’s side. “Please tell Mummy something,” he whispered. Nicola looked down at him.
“Tell Mummy that I love her – I really do. But could I please love her from Edinburgh, rather than from Aberdeen?”
Nicola caught her breath. Into the receiver she said, “Did you hear that, Irene?”
There was silence on the line down from Aberdeen. No humming. No cackle. Just silence. Irene had heard what Bertie said.
“Tell him if that’s what he wants,” she said, “then that’s all right by me. Because I do love him, you know.”
Nicola struggled with herself. Plato’s white horse would take her chariot one way, and his dark horse another. The struggle was resolved, for now she said to Irene, “I know that, Irene. I know that you love him a great deal.”
Later, Nicola tried to work out how Irene could have managed such a volte-face. There are roads to Damascus, she told herself. People travel on them.
© Alexander Mccall Smith, 2021.
A Promise of Ankles (Scotland Street 14)
is available now. Love in the Time of Bertie (Scotland Street 15) will be published by Polygon in hardback in November 2021.