The Loch
Ness Monster
by Martin Taulbut
June 1990
All throughout the morning
of their mother’s funeral, Elspeth remained stoic. At the ceremony, terrible,
hollow, endless, and swift, she’d kept her composure, even as the strains of Chuir
lad Mise dh'Eilean Leam Fhin played.
Who died from eating
cake? It made no sense.
Later, they stood in the
hallway of their Aunty Rona’s house, thanking people for coming. Her twin
brother Angus, a strange ten-year old man-boy in a black suit and tie, with
thin, solemn features and red hair. Elspeth herself in her new black dress. Her
father’s thick red beard grey streaked.
Then the memory from the
hospital crept in.
The young doctor, a tiny
woman in a headscarf, murmuring to their father in the next room. “Very
sorry…anaphylactic shock…severe reaction.”
It was that which set her
off, first a laugh, then crying, then sobbing. Initially, Angus appeared unmoved.
Then he, too, wept.
Aunty Rona guided them both
into the kitchen. Before her aunt shut the door, Elspeth saw her father
surrounded by relatives in grey and black. Their mother would have hated that. She’d
always loved bright colours.
Their aunt made them tea,
very strong, milky, and sweet, then disappeared for a moment or two. When Aunty
Rona returned, she held out her palms. In each lay a short wooden whistle.
“Here,” Aunty Rona said,
“These are for you.”
Angus picked his whistle
from Aunty Rona’s hand. Elspeth hesitated.
“The woods by the Loch are
dangerous,” Aunty Rona explained. “Your mother would have wanted you to be
safe.”
And Aunty Rona told them her
story.
Thirty years ago, Rona and
Morag had been walking home alone from school.
Mid-way through the woods, a thin man, about thirty-five, with a ponytail,
stepped out before them. Trailing the stranger was a black-furred,
brown-bellied, snub-nosed dog. His pet paused, sniffed the air, growled.
Now she and Morag had
grown up around animals, so they hadn’t been afraid of the dog. The man was
something different, however. His surprise at seeing them quickly turned into a
smile. Not a nice smile.
“Wolf!” he barked.
His dog had relented. But
the man had kept his eyes fixed on the girls, all the while maintaining that
horrible grin.
“He won’t hurt you,” he
had said. “Now, what are you two doing out here?”
“We’re going home,” Rona
had said.
“Oh, aye,” said the man.
“Nice. Well, before you do, wouldn’t you like a wee party?”
“No…no thanks,” said
Rona.
The man had taken a step
towards them. His dog perked up. Rona could smell body odour, the sickly -sweet
tang of hash and hops. She and Morag retrieved their whistles and held them up.
The man laughed. “Musical
instruments, is it? Wolf, here!”
The dog had padded to his
master’s side, its growl devolving into a snarl. Only his hand on its collar
held the animal back.
And then…Rona couldn’t
recall who had blown their whistle first. The man had laughed at the elongated
notes. His mirth faded as they heard a terrible roar. His dog, yapping wildly,
had charged off into the trees. Its voice cut off at a whimper. Their saviour
emerged. The man's face had morphed in terror as the creature’s jaws had clamped
shut on his arm and dragged him away from the path. He screamed before the
trees closed around him.
Morag and Rona remained
frozen for a moment. Then Rona had taken her sister’s arm and led her in the
direction of the loch. A few dwindling spatters of blood marked the route. By
the time they arrived by the water’s edge…there was nothing. Only bubbles, and
the vague hint of a shape moving below the surface. Then it was gone.
Their aunt shuddered at the
memory.
“If you’re ever in danger,
blow your whistles to summon the dragon,” said Aunty Rona. “You musn’t do it
lightly, though.”
Elspeth took her own
whistle, weighing it in her hand.
“You’re so like her,” said
Aunty Rona.
“I wish I’d got her black
hair, though,” sniffed Elspeth. “Not ginger like us.”
Her brother didn’t laugh. He
stared at his present.
Elspeth worried about Angus.
#
1995
Guided by her brother’s
muffled protests, Elspeth ran through the trees. All at once, she broke through
the branches and onto the muddy path that ran parallel to the loch. There they
were, by the picnic table. Angus was on the ground, his hair smeared with
leaves and dirt. A boy in a parka knelt on Angus’s arms, his back to Elspeth. A
second sandy-haired lad – Danny, it was Danny – stood nearer to Elspeth. Laughing,
Danny shook the contents of her brother’s schoolbag onto the ground. Jotters,
library books and stationery tumbled out, to splash in the watery filth.
In the last year or so, Angus
had become more withdrawn, more secretive. Elspeth was always friendlier, she
had her pals, her best friend Mhairi. But Angus? There was something about
him…something missing.
“Leave him alone!” she
shouted.
Danny gave a mirthless
snort.
“Hey, it’s the Ninja Turtles
bird.”
The boy sitting on Angus’s
chest lowered his parka hood. Coffee-coloured skin, deep brown eyes, short
brown hair. He spoke with an English accent: “April O’Neil.”
“Whit?” said Danny.
“April O’Neil. Well,
technically, she’s not–”
“Shut it, Bricks.”
Bricks. Elspeth made the
connection. Aidan Murphy. His family had moved to Foyers from a place called
Brixton. Danny and the others soon applied the diminutive. Elspeth had observed
him from time to time around school. Or playing shinty, through the classroom
window. Up close, he made her tummy flutter.
She ignored her desire.
Elspeth reached for the string around her neck and pulled on its length to
retrieve the whistle. She brandished the instrument at Danny and Bricks.
“Let him go,” she said. “Or
I’ll do it. You know I will.”
Danny hesitated. “No you’ll
no’.”
“I will,’ Elspeth said. “And…you
know what’ll happen then.”
She raised the whistle to
her lips.
Danny glanced at the loch,
then back to Elspeth. His confidence faltered.
“Let him go, Bricks,” he
said.
“But he’s mental–” the other
boy protested.
“Leave it, okay?” said
Danny.
Bricks sighed. Shaking his
head, he released Angus and stood up. Joining Danny by the picnic table, he protested
at Elspeth:
“You ought to have a word
with your brother, girl.”
Then he and Danny ran off
along the path. Elspeth helped her brother to his feet. Angus glowered at his
fleeing tormentors. He reached for the string around his neck and pulled out
his own whistle. Elspeth slapped it away from his lips.
“No, Angus!”
Her brother whined. “Why
not?”
“You know why.”
Angus pouted. He slipped the
whistle back inside his shirt, though.
Together they rescued his
muddied possessions. Elspeth picked up one of his library books from a puddle.
A mugshot of a rat-faced Teddy Boy with slicked-back hair stared at her from
its jacket, creeping her out. She slid the book back into his schoolbag.
#
2000
They pulled up in Aidan’s
car outside her house. Elspeth fidgeted with the engagement ring. She squeezed
her boyfriend’s hand.
“Don’t worry,” she said.
“It’ll be fine.”
“Yeah, I know, your dad’s
always been cool. It
ain't…”
Her father was standing at
the bungalow lounge window, his big, bearded face glowering at them. Oh God. He
was wearing that tartan waistcoat. Elspeth took another breath. Then they
exited the car and walked to the house.
Her father flung open the
door.
“So, you’re the Sassenach
who’s here to steal my daughter, eh?”
Elspeth sighed. Her father
had promised…
Aidan, a bit taken aback,
paused. But only for a moment.
“I don’t think anyone could
steal Elspeth, Mr. McDougall.”
Her father chuckled. “Good
point, young man. Come on in.”
They went through to the
lounge. With the hiking equipment absent and the LPs tidied away, the room
seemed spartan. The powdery, floral tang of Shake ’n’ Vac filled her nostrils,
making her cough. She and Aidan sat down on the sofa.
“Can I get you a drink, son?
Aidan, isn’t it?”
“A coke, Mr. McDougall. I’m
driving.”
“Very wise.”
Her father disappeared into
the kitchen.
Aidan scanned the room. His
eyes alighted on a framed photo. It showed a much younger Elspeth and Angus,
nine or ten, in their cosy fleeces and waterproofs. Behind them, their mother
beamed, the wind blowing a strand of her dark hair askew.
Her dad returned with a
tray. He set a can of juice and glass down on the coffee table in front of
Aidan. Her You Can Take the Girl Out of Oban mug, full of steaming tea,
in front of Elspeth. Orange squash for himself.
“That’s up Goatfell,” her
father remarked to Aidan. “You remember that day, Elspeth?”
“Sort of,” she murmured.
“Didn’t we get lost?”
Mr. McDougall appealed to
Aidan. “We went the scenic route.”
Their mother clutching
her throat, struggling to breathe. Panic in her mother’s eyes. Terror in her
father’s.
“Morag – are you all
right, Morag!”
Her mother’s lips
swelling. A rash spreading across her face, a horrible wheezing coming from her
throat. Collapsing. Elspeth failing to remember what the St. John’s ambulance
man had said when visiting their school.
Her father kneeling beside
her mother, frantically trying to push air into her lungs.
“For Christ’s sake, call
an ambulance!”
The front door opened.
Angus, wearing his favourite black hoodie. There was something about the way
her brother was staring at them. No. Not at them, not even at Aidan. At her
engagement ring. It made her feel…uncomfortable.
He was out of the house more
and more lately. A few times, she and Aidan had passed by the war memorial and
noticed him hanging about there with others. Angus was chatting away to a
petite girl with a blonde bob and impressive tattoos. A good sign?
Aidan nodded. “All right,
mate?”
“Right,” muttered Angus.
Her father returned. “Ah.
You’re back, son. D’you know Aidan?”
“Yeah,” said Angus. “From
school.”
Elspeth stood up.
“Anyway, we’ve got to make a
move, dad.”
McDougall seemed
disappointed. “No, ye’ll stay for your tea?”
“No, we’d best head, Aidan’s
got to help his mum with her shopping.”
Aidan caught her eye.
“Yeah…that’s right. Sorry Mr.
McDougall…her motor’s in the garage.”
“Ah well,” said her father.
He shook Aidan’s hand as they left. “Nice to meet you, son.”
They went out to the car.
Before they got in, she could hear her brother’s raised voice. A pause, while
her father replied, then her brother’s abrupt tones interrupted. The door flung
open. Angus rushed out, running down the drive, powering off around the hedge
and down the hill, towards the woods and the water.
Her father stood at the front
door, face flushed.
“Sorry about that, son,”
McDougall said.
He shook his head, this big,
proud man, and addressed his daughter. “Elspeth, I know, I know, it’s a
disgrace, I’ll…have a word with him, he’s no’ right, but you know...”
Unable to stop herself,
Elspeth went up the steps to hug her father. He jerked back, surprised, but
accepted his daughter’s embrace. She promised to ring him that evening. She and
Aidan drove away from her house. Her father managed to recover some presence of
mind and wave them off from the driveway. Elspeth reciprocated, but now
something else troubled her. That last time by the war memorial, the
blonde-haired girl hadn’t been there either. She touched the stone on her
engagement ring, and then the string around her neck, as if to ward off evil
spirits.
#
2001
The house was in darkness as
Elspeth entered.
“Hello?” she called out.
“Angus? Dad?”
Silence.
Elspeth crept through the
house to her brother’s bedroom. She paused, then walked across the threshold.
His sanctum smelled of
sweat, cut through with deodorant. On the far wall, a faded poster from the
1989 Batman film. And was that a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle toy on the window
ledge? As if he hadn’t moved on at all.
Concealed in the bottom of
the chest of drawers, in a small wooden box, she found it. Not even padlocked.
She took the whistle. Wait though…there was more. A photograph; or at least
part of one. Her and Angus, as children. They were laughing, blurry, as they
hovered above the red and yellow cushiony floor of a bouncy castle.
When Aidan had failed to
come home on Friday night, Elspeth wasn't concerned. She’d cooked them spag bol
for tea that night. It was a private…well, it was their memory. They’d bid each
other farewell with a garlicky kiss. She’d joked it was deliberate, to keep him
from getting lucky with other women.
By Saturday lunchtime,
she began to get concerned. No messages. No texts.
On Sunday, she broke and
called the police. She’d sat with the Northern Constabulary officers in his
flat, going through the details. He’d been meeting some old pals for a drink.
Planning the stag. The police asked her for the names of all the friends. She
listed them.
On Wednesday, they found
Aidan’s trainer, down by the loch. The police questioned Elspeth again, with
more care and less kindness. They said they’d be in touch. Once they’d left,
she sat for a while, thinking.
The loch. Always the loch.
#
A branch snapped, making Elspeth
stir.
Angus emerged from the
woods.
His hood was up. Ugly
yellow-purple bruising on the left side of his face. His clothes were filthy,
his shoes all muddy.
From her pocket, she took
out his whistle and held it over the rushing water. Angus raised his palms,
revealing blood-ringed, cracked nails.
“Elspeth…” he pleaded.
“…give me a chance…”
Whining, wheedling; the
gambit of a child. Disgusted, she averted her gaze. If she met his eyes, she’d
lose it for sure. Anger rose in her.
“Tell me what happened,
Angus.”
“I didn’t plan it…he was…he
was laughing at me...”
“So you showed him, huh?”
“Don’t you understand?” he
said, his voice cracking. “He’d taken you away…but now he’s gone, we can be
together-”
“You’re deluded,” said
Elspeth.
She raised her hand to gain
momentum, twisted…and threw.
Angus howled. Then his face
brightened. She’d thrown it short. The whistle had missed the water and hit the
bank. Her brother scrambled to the spot, plucked the whistle from the dirt,
raised it to his lips and -
Nothing. Pressure from her
brother’s breath forced a little of the wrapper from the air-hole. But the
nozzle remained blocked.
Angus coughed a little.
Spluttered. Wheezed.
She walked over to her
brother as he gasped for air. Allergies passing through the maternal line.
McDougall had been so careful when preparing their snacks for school. Elspeth
confiscated the whistle, took the sweetie wrapper out and showed it to Angus.
Her brother’s face was swelling up, his lips bulging. His eyes flickered to the
brown covering and the blue lettering on the candy bar. Ingredients: Sugar,
Peanuts…
