Loch Lomond 2

The cold air of dawn awoke John before the sun showed its face over the horizon. He lay under the trees watching stars fade away as the sky evolved through a palette of blues. He’d been dreaming of Loch Lomond all night and wondered if he’d ever make it back. If he knew how to get there he would’ve headed straight to it, but it wouldn’t be the same without his mum.

‘Once I find my mum we can go back to Loch Lomond together. I’ll promise to go back to the home if she takes me to Loch Lomond for just one more day. All I have to do is find her before the police or social workers find me.’

He sprung up, removed his blanket and began stretching to warm himself up. The more he thought about it, the better the idea sounded. He’d also be able to find out why she stopped writing to him.

‘What I need is a plan. The first place I’ll look is our last house. But how will I get there? I don’t even know where I am. Maybe I could get a bus? No, I don’t want to waste what little money I have and give anyone the chance to identify me and hand me in. I could tell by the look on that old lady’s face yesterday that she knew something. Anyway, I wouldn’t know what bus to get.’

With adrenaline pumping he packed his blanket and spare jumper into his Farmfoods carrier bag. He thought about placing it back under the rhododendron bush but decided to take it with him in case he didn’t need to return. Reaching the edge of the woods, he looked at the city stretching as far as his eyes could see, and the enormity of his task hit him hard.

‘Where do I start?’

He walked to the nearest scheme and took an elevator up one of the flats, hoping to identify landmarks. Everything looked the same. Mile after mile of buildings and high rise flats scattered across the landscape. Now he understood the term concrete jungle.

‘What I need is a map. During the weeklong trip to the Outdoor Centre in the Borders I was the best at orienteering. And, although I don’t have a compass, I know the sun rises in the East and sets in the West. I can work out North easily enough. But where will I get a map?’

Filled with renewed hope he decided to treat himself to breakfast to give him strength for the long journey ahead. He’d noticed a McDonald’s near an industrial estate during his first day on the run and headed in that direction. One cheeseburger and Irn Bru later, belly full and mind alert, he was ready for anything.

Several trains sped past before the idea arrived at John.

His last house was near Drumry train station. If he could reach the station he’d easily find his old house. But how to get there was the problem.

‘I can’t hop aboard a train in case a policeman spots me. There must be another way.’

He sat throwing stones over the tracks, trying to guess the time as the sun moved across the sky.

‘Train timetables. That’s it. On the back of timetables there’s a map of all the stations. If I get hold of one I can plot a route to Drumry and walk along the railway lines. I’ll wait until nearer night, though, as it’s far too dangerous on the tracks during the day. First, I’ll find the nearest station and get a map.’

Sticking to the pavements for now, he looked up and down the tracks, and tossed a coin to choose what direction he’d initially head off. The nearest station would be his starting point and he’d work out the best route from there.

The roads weren’t busy, but being a Sunday, there were many young kids walking around. This helped John feel less conspicuous. Before long he spotted Hyndland station and made his way inside. It was a single island platform with an old style ticket office and little coffee stand facing one another in the middle.

John looked around. A map of the network sat on the wall, but there were no timetables lying around. He approached the ticket office and saw a man sitting reading a Sunday Mail.

“Excuse me, sir. Do you have any timetables I can take away?”

The man behind the counter looked up briefly from his paper. “There’s a timetable on the wall. Use that one.”

“But I need one to take to my mum,” John lies. “She wants to plan a route for next month.”

“Tell her to do it online,” the man says, without breaking concentration on his paper.

“But we don’t have a computer at home.”

“Go to the library then.”

“It’s Sunday. The library is closed.”

The man looked up from his paper with a sigh. “Look, I don’t have any timetables. If you don’t want a ticket, get on your way and give me peace.”

John turned around and stared at the map on the wall.

‘From Hyndland, walk along the track until it splits, turn right and head towards Anniesland. Once past Anniesland head for Westerton. After Westerton the track splits again. This time take the left split and head towards Drumchapel. Drumry is the next station after Drumchapel.’

He ran this sequence in his head several times before turning around to leave. A man in a suit sat writing in a notepad.

“Excuse me, sir. Can I get a bit of paper and a loan of your pen? It’s an emergency.”

The suited man looked John up and down. “An emergency? And what kind of emergency requires a pen and paper?”

“I need to draw a quick sketch of the rail network for a project at school.”

“Then why didn’t you bring a pen and paper with you?”

“I left them at home. Please, mister. It really is an emergency. I’ll copy the rough sketch into my jotter when I get back home.”

Thinking of his own son and how persuasive he can be, the man chuckled and tore a page from his notepad. “Here, will this be enough?”

Armed with a homemade map of the relevant train stations, John waited until dusk and began his quest along the rail tracks stretching to the horizon, convinced this was a perfect plan. He didn’t need any money and he wasn’t walking about the streets where the police might see him. All he had to do was listen for trains coming. He knew there wouldn’t be many of them now it was almost dark.

No sooner was he on his way when the tracks first hissed with anticipation long before the train snaked into view. It was an eerie sound, but at least it gave John plenty warning to get safely off the tracks. Still, it frightened him. To keep his spirits up he thought of Indiana Jones on a great adventure, reminding himself even Indy had a fear of snakes.

To the west, the sky swallowed the remaining layer of pink and rolled out a moon-free, dark blue carpet for the stars to shuffle across. John wondered why he could see the sun for ages in the morning before he felt its warmth, yet as soon as it was out of sight in the evening he was freezing.

To pass time he counted sleepers and skipped them two at a time. He also thought of the rails as the narrow path along the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and when he heard the serpent hiss he knew it was time to leave the righteous way, at least until the train had passed. But apart from having to take a few detours to avoid long bridges or labourers working on the tracks, the journey passed uneventfully and didn’t take as long as he feared.

Approaching the fourth and final station of his quest he began to recognise some of the sights. To his right were the Great Western Road and the Retail Park where he’d enjoyed many a Burger King with his mum. To his left he could see the illuminated Titan crane in Clydebank in the distance.

Exiting Drumry station onto Onslow Road, he knew exactly where he was. All he had to do was head up York Street into Vanguard Street and he’d be home.

His mum’s house soon came into view. There was a light on.