The Great Escape. Journey South. Part Two.

There was no shortage of vehicles heading south out of Aberdeen this early morning. A lorry stopped for me almost as soon as I stuck my thumb out.

"I'm heading for Glasgow, he said, as I clambered in. "Any good for you?"

"Yes. Thanks I'm going to London."

"Well Glasgow will give you a good start then," he said, slamming it into gear, and pulling out into the traffic.

For the next ten minutes or so he never stopped talking. Asking me questions. Where did I come from? Where was I going to stay in London? How old was I? Where did I work?

I answered as well as I could, lying through my teeth. It was a mistake to tell him I was 18 though. People even found it difficult to believe I was 13. I was so small for my age. He glanced across at me. He was trying to keep it conversational, but it was obvious I was being interrogated. I began to feel uneasy.

After about twenty miles or so, we reached the coastal town of Stonehaven. He said he had to get cigarettes. We stopped outside a newsagents and tobacconist shop. He was in there too long for my liking. It was easy for me to imagine him asking the shopkeeper to call the police. Easy to imagine that he had seen through my hasty, ill thought out, lies.
I was not prepared to wait around to find out. Jumping from the cab, I took to my heels and ran quickly down the nearest side street. Soon I found myself beside the sea, and took shelter in a beach hut on the promenade. It was not long before I heard the urgent, strident sound of an approaching police cars bell. I presumed, rightly or wrongly, that my assumptions about the lorry driver were right, and I stretched out on the bench, chewing chunks of bread from my half loaf, while I waited for the danger of being apprehended to pass. The police car made a couple of turns along the seafront, but they obviously had more important matters to attend to, than a young runaway, and soon, much to my relief, disappeared.

It was about two o'clock the next morning when, several private cars, a van, and a lorry later, I was dropped off in Hammersmith, London. Not bad going, and due to the generosity of those drivers I had also been fed in transport cafe's, and still had four shillings and sixpence in my pocket.

The problem I had now was that I had nowhere to stay. I had not thought this through, beyond reaching London. I decided that in the morning I would phone Aunt Jo, my Mum's sister, and ask her for help. For now though, I sat myself in a shop doorway, and tried, despite the cold night air, to sleep.

The creepy bloke had passed me by several times, slowing down, and giving me the once over each time. I knew it was the same man, because he was wearing a bright blue, over sized jacket, which looked to me, very out of place. Finally, as I expected, he stopped, and looked down at me. He was small, and thin. Bald headed, with little staring eyes. He looked unkempt, unwashed, and unshaven. On his feet he had dirty, torn plimsoles. He smelled strongly of stale beer.
"Ain't you got nowhere to stay?" he asked, smiling, through black teeth.
I was nervous and wary. "I'm waiting for someone," I said.
He wandered off, but was soon back. "I live just down the road," he said, "you can stay with me tonight if you need a bed."
"No thanks."
He persisted, "come on. It's all right."
"No thanks." I stood up, clutching my carrier bag, getting ready to run, but he was blocking the doorway.
As I tried to push past him, he grabbed my arm. "Come on. You're coming with me."
"No I'm fucking not!" I shouted, and stamped my boot down hard on his foot. He released his grip, I shot past him, and ran like a bat out of hell.

In the morning I found a workmans cafe' and bought two bacon rolls and a cup of tea. Delicious! I sat there for a while enjoying the warmth. I must have dozed off. The next thing was the lady waking me, "are you ok dear?" She seemed nice.

I had another cup of tea, before leaving to phone Aunt Jo. I soon found her number in the directory, and fed four pennies into the coin slot.
"Hallo."
I pressed button A and heard the coins fall.
"Hallo Auntie Jo, It's John."
"John? John who?"
"It's me, John. Muriel's boy."
"What do you want?"
"I'm in London Auntie. I need somewhere to stay."
There was a click, and we were cut off. I pressed button B to get my money back. Nothing. I dialed again, another four pennies. Button A.
"Yes?"
"Hallo Auntie Jo."
"Don't call here again," and she hung up.
Button B again. No such luck.
Eightpence wasted! What had I ever done to have such a useless family?

Later that day I was back in the cafe'. The lady was really nice and friendly. I asked her if I could come and work for her. She said she would have to phone the owner to see what he thought about it. In the meantime, she gave me a cup of tea and a cheese sandwich. She wouldn't take any money for it. I was grateful, and a little bit tearful at her kindness.

I had almost finished the sandwich, when the two policemen walked in. One stood by the door, while the other pulled out a chair and sat down beside me. "Hallo, it's John isn't it? Everyone has been looking for you." he said, "it's time to go back now son."
The cafe' lady came over, "sorry darling," she said, and handed me a bar of chocolate. I couldn't be angry with her, she was too nice. Anyway, by this time, I was quite pleased to be found.




It turned out that most of the people who gave me lifts, had also reported me to the police as a runaway. Their concern was not surprising. Most decent people, would do the same, when they consider a child to be at risk. Somehow though, I had always managed to stay one jump ahead of them.

After a stern lecture, delivered by an angry Sergeant, at the police station, I was handed over to the care of my former welfare officer, from the London County Council.
When I had given my word not to run off again, I was taken back to Scotland by train, in the charge of yet another welfare officer. This one was young and pretty. By the end of the journey, I had fallen in love with her, and it was sad to say goodbye, when she finally handed me back into the care of Aberdeen welfare office.

I was placed into a children's home in Aboyne, a small village in the heart of Aberdeenshire. Just a mile or so down the road from Her Majesty The Queen's place, at Balmoral castle.

It wasn't too bad. I had my own bed!