Have You Seen This?

HAVE YOU SEEN THIS? By Steven McKay Kindle Edition Copyright © 2023 Steven A. McKay All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, in whole or in part, without prior written permission from the copyright holder. Foreword I don’t usually write fiction set in modern times. All my previous books have been about the Romans, Anglo-Saxons, Vikings, and medieval outlaws. I came up with the idea for this short story after reading an article on the internet though, and felt like it was too good not to use, despite the fact it would need to be set in the present day. If you are one of my usual readers, I hope you enjoy this story as much as my historical fiction. And if you’re a new reader, I hope you’ll like this and then give my other stuff a try. Either way, thank you for reading! Steven A. McKay ONE GLASGOW, APRIL 2023 “Have you seen this?” The phone was thrust in front of Jack Devlin’s face as he sat trying to eat his sandwiches and make the most of the fifteen-minute tea-break. Pulling his head back and frowning, the forklift truck driver squinted, trying to read the words on the screen. “What is it?” he demanded. “I’m trying to eat here.” “Read it,” his colleague Davie replied in an excited tone, letting Jack have the phone so he could read it easier. “Unbelievable, mate!” Jack sighed, knowing his break was almost over and not really caring what Davie wanted him to see. Something about football probably, that was the main subject of conversation within the whisky bottling factory. Most people supported one of the two big Glasgow teams, and even if they didn’t, they liked one better than the other. He lifted the phone and immediately found his interest piqued. It was not a story about a football club signing a new player. The headline read, ‘TEACHER STRUCK OFF FOR ABUSING STUDENTS’. “Dirty bastard,” he muttered, still unsure why Davie had wanted him to read the article so badly. As he read on, however, it became clear: The teacher was a local man, and, in fact, currently taught at the school Jack’s daughter went to. There was no mistaking the teacher either, for there was a photo of him, and Jack recognised the receding hairline, gaunt cheeks, and wide moustache that curled up at the ends. He’d always laughed about that moustache, thinking the teacher was trying too hard to appear eccentric or quirky. He was not laughing now, and the moustache appeared more sinister than quirky as Jack read through the short article. “Is he not your wee girl’s teacher?” Davie demanded. He sounded concerned but there was an unmistakeable glee beneath his words, the kind of glee people get when they sense a scandal about to explode around them. As Jack came to the end of the piece, he realised he’d been reading it on a blog site. He didn’t know much about blogs, but there was a clear citation at the bottom, naming one of Scotland’s biggest national newspapers as the source for the article, and the date it had first run. “2020,” he said, looking up at his workmate angrily. “Three years ago. How did the bastard manage to get another job teaching? You’d think the schools would have blacklisted him forever.” “You’d have thought he’d still be in the jail!” Davie replied in a high pitched, outraged tone. “Probably did a couple of weeks then got let out for good behaviour. Get more time inside for refusing to pay your TV licence nowadays, than doing something like that!” Jack skimmed the blog again, trying to process it. Apparently, the teacher, Mr Alan Sutherland, had worked in a school in the north of England a few years before, and had gone on a trip with the students to Austria. While he was there, he’d sexually assaulted one of the female pupils. The attack was reported when the group returned home to England and there had been enough evidence to convict Sutherland of the charge. The piece did not go into detail about what the assault had consisted of, or what the disgraced teacher had actually been found guilty of, but Jack did not need to know all that. Did not need the sordid details. There was more than enough written down to convince him that Alan Sutherland was a filthy beast. That the bastard had managed to get out of jail and even find a new teaching job within a mere three years did not really surprise Jack. Judges were always too lenient these days, giving criminals soft sentences. “Here,” he said, handing the phone back. Davie took it, wide-eyed. “What are you going to do about it?” he asked, shoving it into his pocket as they headed out of the cloakroom into the bustling hall where machines clattered empty bottles from wooden pallets onto conveyor belts and gas-powered forklift trucks moved around with surprising grace and speed. “Phone the school.” “Is that it?” Davie demanded, reaching out and using the frame of his truck to pull himself up and onto the seat. “I’d be at the office as soon as I finished my shift here, demanding the prick be sacked.” With that his vehicle sped away, leaving Jack standing, still trying to process what he’d read. His first concern was that the teacher might have touched his own twelve-year-old daughter. He felt a chill run through his whole body and bile rise in his throat at the thought, and he clenched his fists, imagining what he’d do the scumbag if he had. Jack was an imposing man, just over six feet tall, with a shaved head, and a powerful build despite a beer belly. He’d actually met Sutherland at a parents’ evening, and knew the teacher was no match for him. He reached his forklift and climbed nimbly up, taking his seat and grasping the steering wheel. He did not drive