IanBoltsoy

Beorc Ferry by Ian Boltsoy

“We all look to the dead for answers it just we have different questions”, Jed explained, “for some it’s about the well being of relatives, others it lost treasures.”

Mark Edwards, a once a noted local journalist; now freelance drunk checked his mental tone which was almost a sneer, almost because it could have been another mum who had lost three stone or a child with a tragic illness, before asking the question “How about you then, what was the treasure you found at the dockside or was it a family member?”

Jed noted the shake in Marks hand as he held his pen and pad. “There’s a pub around the corner, let me buy you a drink.” Jed suggested.

“Well it’s a bit early for me but what the hell” placing his pen and pad back into his pocket.

The Pub was quite, with only a couple of people at the bar, the lounge was empty with the exception of themselves. “What do you want?” Jed asked nodding at the array of bottles that hung upside down.

“A pint of larger” he responded.

“Two pints of larger and two double scotch chasers” Jed asked the landlord.

Mark had looked puzzle; Jed smiled then added “You’re going to need it” but didn’t add that he could already smell scotch on his breath.

Sitting at a small table in the back of the pub they chatted about football until Mark changed the direction of the conversation with, “Are we going to go back and forth with this chat all day or do you still need a bit more Dutch courage.”

“Back and forth” Jed repeated then asked “Do you believe in coincidence?”

“No, not really” he replied shifting his weight uncomfortably.

“I’ll get another round”, Jed said standing “Do you know the origin of the expression back and forth?” turning immediately and headed back the bar.


“Go on then, although I’m sure it has no origin it’s just what it is.” Mark said as Jed returned with another round of drinks.

“Do you know Barclay’s dock?” Mark answered “Yes, a mile or so further up the river. But then I should do I’m local to these parts.”

Jed sat back and asked “Do you know the origin of its name?” mark shook his head. Jed took another mouth full of beer then explained.

Barclay is from the Scottish ‘Berkeley’ or more precisely the Old English ‘beorc ‘ which is Birch and ‘leah’ which roughly translates to woodland clearing. In the thirteenth hundreds there was a ferry between the two towns on opposite side of the river. Both of them had successful markets for a long time which gave it one of the busiest ferry crossings in the country at the time.

Mark interrupted “But there are no historical towns here.”

Jed continued; “True the both vanished back in the 1660’s due to the black plague but up until that point on the Forth River the most famous land mark was the Beorc Forth ferry.”

Mark laughed, the said “So what you’re saying is that any repetitive task was associated with Beroc Forth – Back and forth?” his face turned to puzzlement.

“How do you know...? I know my local history but?”

Jed paused then said “I’ve spoken to one of the ferry men”.

A cold shiver went down Marks back, he didn’t believe in ghosts but Jed did!

One thing that Mark could do, and do well was spot a liar and Jed believed he was telling the truth; that was for sure. For the first time in a long time he felt awkward and stuck for words. “Shit” he said and laughed. “ So that’s my story, a ghostly ferry man. If you have a photo I’ll split the cash” and continued to laugh.

“Story? No. I didn’t call about a story. Let me get you another drink” Jed said knowing that they didn’t need fresh drinks but Mark did need time to think.

Then he throw in “he mentioned that you and your brother used to swim there.” and headed to the bar.

Mark wondered what he was after; he had no money and couldn’t influence people with his writing these days. There was an honesty about Jed that he just couldn’t place. Why bring up his dead brother, DEAD, anger and fear filled him. What would Jed’s next line be, come to his church or cross his palm with silver.
Jed returned and sitting down he looked at Mark for a moment, neutral face; he would have to move it forward again. “he knows Anna isn’t his daughter, but it makes no difference to him”.

Mark reeled back in his seat, only two people knew that himself and Donna, his brother’s wife. They were having problems conceiving and one drunken night he had offered to help, not out of kindness but a drunk’s lured remark. He had expected Donna to smack him, but she just turned away. The following day she called him; he was rolling out his standard apology about him being drunk when she interrupted him. “Paul has a low sperm count”, “they were desperate”, “he would never know” shit how could Jed know? She had been true to her word for so long when did she tell his brother? Surly she would have let him know and given him the heads up, OK he was a drunk, but she had never held that against him unlike his own wife. Did Anne know?

His focus return to the room “what do you want?” he asked Jed.

“Nothing, He just wants me to pass on a a couple of messages to you” he replied

“What?” Mark asked “that I must provide you money for your spiritual work.”

Jed shook his head “two things, to thank you for Anne and because Donne and himself wouldn’t have made it without her.”

”And” Mark asked

Jed sat up straight, “and to tell you that if you don’t go to the doctors, liver cancer will ensure you both spend Christmas together.”

Mermaid on the breakwater

Hey, pretty good. Just a few things in general.


Describe the pub a bit more, what are the noises like, is there blue smoke wafting around, are the windows open? Get that chilly feeling down and it'll add power to his last prophetic lines.

You need to edit this because there are lots of little mistakes with the spelling.

Work on the flow of the piece now, as well. Sometimes you're losing me a bit with the character's voice and it loses the intimacy then.

I almost think you could do more with the ghost too, he needs to really feel real, not sure how you'd do it but your ghost needs to be in the piece somewhere.