The Lost Boy and The Gardener's Daughter by Ian Todd Page A

“What was the obscenity?”
      “The word ‘orgy’ was painted in bright red letters.  The O started on the wall to the left of the painting and the Y ended on the wall to the right of it.  It actually looked really neat, in a strange sort of way.”
      “I’d love to have seen that,” Morven said, laughing.
      “It wasn’t funny afterwards, believe you me.  She fainted and Antonio was too drunk or wasted to be of much help.  He tried to be gallant by swooping her up in one go and ended up sprinting across the apartment, with her in his arms, before crashing into a Ming Dynasty vase that was sitting on a pot stand in the corner.  Pierre, her butler, had to make a nine one one call for the both of them to be rushed to Mount Sinai…her to get the gash on her scalp plastered and him to get his stomach pumped before he overdosed.  I certainly wasn’t the darling little lady that day, I can tell you,” Saba groaned, as the baith ae them cracked up laughing again.
      “So, you’ve been banished to the tower in Culrain Castle to wait for some Prince Charming to come and whisk you away?”
      “Will you help me, Morven?  To escape, I mean?”
      “Saba, what can I do?  I wouldn’t know where to start, and anyway, I’ve never been beyond Inverness in my whole life.”
      “You must know someone who could give me a ride south…someone who would be willing.”
      “Saba, there’s no-one about here that would dare get involved.  Everyone is scared of what The Duke…your father, would do.  People depend on the estate, not only for work, but all the local businesses that supply the estate rely on its trade too.  My advice is to work on your father.  I don’t think there’s anyone around here who’ll help you.  And anyway, the Highland Games start this weekend.  There’s a ceilidh on Saturday night.  You might meet some handsome gypsy lad who’ll sneak you away in the night.”
      “Why do people put up with it?  Why don’t they stand up to him?” Saba asked, sitting up and resting her chin oan her knees.
      “Saba, it’s always been that way and always will be.  Don’t be so naive.  They still sing the old songs in the evenings about what happened to people who tried to stand up to the Kyle ‘o’ Sutherlands…especially at wakes,” Morven said, looking at Saba. 
     
     
     
     
     
     

 
    Chapter Eleven
      “Right, remember what I’ve told you, Paul, and watch you don’t trip on your arse and scare all the rabbits while you’re at it, laddie,” Innes whispered, as Paul walked backwards, unravelling the net.
      Paul looked up.  Innes wis following him, hooking the rope that ran alang the tap and bottom ae the net oan tae the four feet long wooden stakes he’d pegged intae the ground every six feet.
      “Right, Paul.  You just follow Tim here and he’ll keep you right.  Take your time now, laddie.  He’ll know when to start.  Don’t do anything until he makes the first move,” Innes whispered, turning tae Tim and gieing him the nod, then quickly walking tae the far end ae the net, plapping his arse doon oan the damp grass tae wait.
      Paul bent o’er, keeping his ootline tae a minimum and gingerly followed the dug back the way they’d come earlier.  He jumped the small burn at the bottom ae the hill and hurried tae catch up wae his four-legged leader. 
      Whit the fuck wis he daeing, he thought tae himsel.  Taking orders fae a mangy auld dug?  Christ, whit wid Tony and the boys think ae that?  They’d laugh him aff the street if he telt them.  He came tae a sudden stoap.  Tim stood like a statue, wan paw up in the air, then slowly sank doon oan tae his haunches and looked back at Paul as if tae say ‘Hey big man, Ah’m the main man aboot here.  Whit ur ye waiting fur?’  Feeling stupid, Paul followed suit and knelt doon oan wan knee, jist as Cameron Sellar slowly drove past oan the road, squinting through the trees tae see if there wis