He smiled, watching the
snowflakes sink slowly to the ground outside the window. Beside him, a little girl sat on the arm of
his easy chair, absentmindedly stroking his wispy white beard. She looked up, her big eyes glistening
brightly. “Tell me another story,
Grampy.”
He chuckled and glanced back
out at the snow. It was cold, so cold…
The icy wind screamed over
the bay, ripping the heat right from their bodies. Duncan shivered against him as they held
tightly to each other to keep warm. It
had only been one week since the two brothers had been left alone on the
street, their parents having died of sickness on the ship.
He smiled as he remembered
them outside of their little home outside of Glasgow, before the hard times had
come and driven them away. Duncan’s red
hair fluttered in the air as he glanced up.
“Ah, I wish we’re back in da
hameland,” he smiled. “D’ye r’member the
ol’ but-án-ben by the loch, Aidan? It’s
allus so warm there.”
Aidan nodded, a tear
springing in his eye at the memory.
“Aye, I ‘member. I ‘member so
much.” He paused, looking at his
brother’s shivering form. “Come wid me,
Duncan. Ye’re in need of a wee bit of
heatin’ there, afore we freeze.”
So saying, he drew the youth
by the shoulder into one of the narrow, dirty alleyways. In the corner a small boy lay against a metal
grate, his eyes closed. His cheeks were
rosy against the cold and his breaths poured out like bright puffs of
steam.
Aidan ran forward and
settled on the grate beside him, pleased to find heat slowly spilling up onto
him. Duncan sat down wearily and fell
against the other boy’s shoulder, causing the latter to awaken and look at them
with bleary eyes.
“Hullo,” Aidan smiled,
blowing on his fingers. “It’s a bit
hillbilly out, i’nt it?”
The boy’s face wrinkled with
confusion at the remark, and he paused for a moment before replying. “‘ello.
It’s cold.” He looked down at Duncan
for a moment, then turned back to the elder brother. “You’se come down from da docks?”
Aidan nodded. “We’re from the Glasgow sheep.”
“Sheep?” the boy was
obviously confused. “You from a sheep?”
Aidan nodded, pleased with
the boy’s comprehension of what he thought was not a difficult subject to
grasp. The other boy shook his head
dazedly, then changed the subject.
“What’s yer name?”
“Mine’s Aidan. He’s Duncan.”
“Aeddan,” the boy replied,
trying to mouth out the unfamiliar name.
“I’m George.”
Aidan nodded and
smiled. “How’s she cuttin’ wid you?”
The boy paused, now even
more perplexed.
Aidan muttered under his
breath, searching his mind for another phrase to help the daft child understand
common speech. “How’s it gaun?”
The light of understanding
lit George’s face. “Ah, I’m
alright. A mite cold and hungry, but
alright.”
Aidan nodded
sympathetically. “Aye, I’m a wee bit
hoongry too.” He sighed, then
continued. “Let’s a-go and look around
dese shops for some scones ‘n kippers to aet, then.”
George frowned, obviously
reluctant to leave the warmth of the grate, but he relented and shook Duncan to
wake him. The little boy moaned and
opened his eyes as he was pulled to his feet by his brother. Their bare feet nearly froze on the cold
stone as they stepped away from the grate and back on the street. They walked what seemed leagues upon leagues
of the cold, hard streets before they came to the little shops near the
dockside. They huddled down under a
table for a moment, discussing a plan before dashing back out.
Aidan and Duncan strolled
leisurely up to a large table set out on the street that bore all sorts of
breads and warm loaves. He was suddenly
filled with the craving to simply rush forward and grab one of the loaves for
himself, but decided to stick to their arrangement. Behind the table, a large, greasy-looking man
glared at them unkindly.
“What a nyaff,” Duncan
sniffed under his breath to Aidan, but he ignored the comment.
“Rare day, sir!” Aidan
smiled cheerfully.
The baker’s brow furrowed
with thought, trying to read through the boy’s thick accent. “Just run along and play, sonny,” he smiled
half-heartedly.
Aidan tried not to glance
over, seeing loaf after loaf disappear off the edge of the table. Only a little more, and George would have all
he could carry. “Um,” he fought for
words to distract the baker’s attention further. “A bit coold, i’nt it?”
The baker nodded, now
becoming annoyed, but Aidan kept the one-way conversation going well. “Ah, me Ma would tell me about dese days, and
denn Da would say, ‘Oh, ye’ve never died a winter yet! So don’t gie’s yer worries, right?’ And denn Ma would say—”
The baker huffed loudly at
the nonsensical dialogue, then sharpened up suddenly as a large man grabbed the
two boys from behind. Aidan glanced up
to see a scowling man holding him by the shoulder. “Ah, George!” the older brother shouted. “The baw’s up on the slates!”
George took the hint and
dashed away as fast as a bolt of lightning, his pattering little feet pulling
him out of sight in an instant, loaves and all.
The baker’s fat cheeks flushed with color and he stood there flustered,
his tongue rolling around, searching for the words. Duncan giggled at the sight. Suddenly the baker turned to them, an
accusing finger pointed.
“Ye’ll pay for all those
loaves, boys!”
The other man’s grip on
Aidan’s shoulder tightened, and the boy looked up to see a warm, kindly face in
place of the scowling, judgmental one he had seen a moment before. The man smiled and laid a few coins on the table.
“You needn’t punish them, good
sir. They are under my care.”
Duncan was confused, but
Aidan smiled and looked up with wonder.
After a moment, the man took them aside, his lined face warm with
sympathy. “What are your names, lads?”
Aidan gulped nervously. “Aidan and Duncan MacCainnech, sir.”
“And where are your
parents?”
“They’s dedd!” Duncan
suddenly burst into tears and lowered his little head against the stranger’s
shoulder.
The man rubbed the boy’s
flaming red hair for a moment, then stood as if having made a decision. “Come on boys, you’ll live with me. The streets are no place for two good lads
like you these days.”
They smiled and took one
hand each and walked off down the alleyway together, rounding a corner and
disappearing into the mists of time and a destiny that fortune favored to bring
them.
The old man rubbed a tear
from his eye silently, then leaned down and kissed his granddaughter on the
forehead. Her eyes were closed, her
little head resting against his great chest.
He sighed at length and took her in his arms, cradling her in his arms
as she slept. “May you never live to see
such days come again, little one.”