The Taggy Man

Life changed when we lost our father. Mum did everything she could to keep things as stable as possible, we stayed in the same house and kept our schools and most importantly our friends. She worked so hard to make that happen, too hard at times and as children neither Ioan or I fully appreciated what she was doing. All we saw is that we spent more and more time at Nan’s and less with her.

To be honest, staying with Nan was no bad thing. She was a retired teacher who was absolutely hell bent on us going to grammar school despite there not being one in our home town. Her view was that to be the best we had to prepare for it, even if we were not going to be able to actually sit the eleven plus exam. We were given an hour after we got in to watch children’s TV followed by dinner and then she would sit us down and oversee our homework. By the time mum arrived and had eaten her dinner we were finished and had the evening to ourselves. It wasn’t until the Summer holidays when the truly ‘old person’ nature of Nan’s house really became apparent. It was really odd that the house was never really updated in all the time she lived there. She wasn’t badly off and she was generally very house proud but the feeling was that she had never decorated in all the time she lived there, rarely replaced the soft furnishings and had her appliances repaired rather than replaced. Despite its very unfashionable look it was always clean and smelled fresh. Nan just had little interest in change. There were few jigsaws and really old board games which had no instructions and seemed overly complex so unless Nan took us out we spent a lot of time rattling around her old house. For me it was never an issue, I loved reading and as we took a trip to the library every week I spent huge chunks of my time in books. It was far harder for Ioan, he was a bit younger and all he really wanted to do was play. I joined him occasionally but it wasn’t for me. He played a lot on his own in Nan’s spare room, it was the room we slept in if we had to stay overnight. There wasn’t a great deal in it. One double bed which we shared, a wardrobe and a chair which I think was an old commode. On the chair sat a strange old cloth doll we called the Taggy Man. He was hand made, but not by Nan, she couldn’t remember where she had got it from but we couldn’t remember it not being there.

The Taggy Man was a very simple shape, a bit like a gingerbread man but he was dressed in what looked like an expensive black three piece suit that had seen better days. On top of his perfectly round head was a similarly worn top hat and round his neck was a tightly tied green ribbon. His face though was what made him so distinctive. His eyes were perfectly embroidered. As if the maker had put all of their time into that and that alone. They were exquisite and had such detail in the pupils it was easy to believe they were modelled on someone’s real eyes. What made the Taggy Man so odd to look at were that the rest of his features were sewn into the greying muslin cloth doll poorly that it seemed that whoever did the eyes simply gave up. The nose was two slapdash crosses and the mouth was so crooked he permanently had an expression that seemed to glower at you. Personally I hated him. But to Ioan he was the playmate I was not.

I heard him talking away to the Taggy Man for hours. They played every game imaginable and he seemed to have many hours of fun through those long Summers. It was something I didn’t ever really think about. I don’t think mum or Nan ever did but Ioan seemed so much more at ease playing with his imaginary friend than any of his peers and he gradually became more lonely and unhappy at school. As we got older, as I became more gregarious, academically successful my younger brother became more isolated and resentful of the time he had to spend at school. By the time he completed his GCSEs he barely left the house, he would refuse invitations and spent more and more time in his room.

I never connected my reluctance to play with him as a child with his behaviour into adulthood but perhaps, with the clarity of hindsight I may have set him on the path. But then the truth was it was not me who led him down it. Who it was racked my brain for years. That question broke my mother, as Ioan slipped deeper into a malaise of alcoholism. She did everything to save him from himself. But she expended her very last drops of energy trying to drag him into the light and when the energy ran out and she passed away, the hope of bringing him into the light was gone and so was he. Ioan disappeared from my life for nearly a decade. I confess I felt little guilt in that time. I had tried to stay in touch with him for a year or two but you can only waste your efforts for so long. I did think about him from time to time, I hoped he would get in touch at birthdays and Christmas but the longer it went the less I really believed it would happen. Then, out of nowhere I received a letter. It was the first contact for nearly a decade and inside the battered envelope was a note. All it had on it were the words “help me” and an address, The McCord Bothy, near Aviemore, Scotland.

Scotland has no connection for either Ioan or I. I couldn’t comprehend how he had ended up so very far north from our childhood in the midlands. I was concerned and intrigued in equal measure and so quickly secured the time off work and bought a train ticket to the Cairngorms.

It was a long but picturesque journey up the East Coast of England and Scotland, I used the time to finish the latest novel I had been struggling to get through but nothing really took my mind off the scrawled plea for help. By the time I was on the final leg of the journey the evening was drawing In and my impatience was beginning to get the better of me. It was early December and outside the tourist season so stepping off onto the platform there was a disappointing absence of life to greet me. The odd local scrambling home from their commute and a few station staff. I had booked into a local guesthouse whose owner had offered to pick me up from the station so I Scanned the station for signs of someone waiting. Everyone seemed busy apart from one man stood loitering in a doorway hunched over battling against the bitter cold. Assuming it was him I began to walk over preparing myself for small talk, as I neared him I noticed his battered old shoes and the frayed hems of his trousers creeping out of the shadows cast by the doorway. As I began to worry about the quality of the lodgings I had booked myself into I heard my name being called from behind me. I turned to see a small white haired man dressed entirely in imitation tweed and corduroy waving enthusiastically towards me. I waved back before briefly casting an eye backwards to see if the odd man in the shadows had noticed my having headed towards him. It appeared he had not as he was no longer in the doorway but was hurrying in the opposite direction towards the darkened end of the platform.

My host, Dennis, was a retired estate agent from Inverness who had spotted the guest house about 30 years previously, bought it for a bargain price and had turned it into a very nice retirement occupation. I was the only guest for the week and even my presence was something of a surprise to him. Having me there wasn’t entirely unwelcome, as it seemed Dennis particularly enjoyed the company of his guests and insisted I dined with him during my stay at no extra cost. He had prepared a huge vat of Cullen Skink which he served with chunks of warm homemade bread and mildly amusing anecdotes about life in a skiing resort with no snow.

When it came to my explanation as to why I was there the mood in the small dining room changed.

“The McCord Bothy? Did he really say he was staying there? I don’t mean to worry you but it’s quite remote and if I recall not that well equipped.”

Dennis seemed very concerned, not only about Ioan being up there but how I, as an inexperienced walker, could get to it, especially at this time of year. He offered the services of one of his friends, a local guide, which I declined, partly out of a shameful degree of personal pride but also concern that an additional visitor might not be welcomed by my vulnerable brother. I did however promise Dennis that I would give him my departure and arrival times so that he knew if and when to contact the emergency services. From this point he spent his time helping me plan my expedition printing maps and explaining signs in the weather I needed to look out for.

When I woke the following morning Dennis was already awake with enough food to last me for a week. I had only planned to head up for the day, staying overnight and coming back the following morning. We ate breakfast together and he insisted I write my full itinerary down before he drove me as far into the wilderness as he could and waved me off.

Once my host’s car was out of sight I began to realise the folly of my hubris. I was not even a casual hiker and this trek was the sort a hardened explorer would have reservations about. I paused for a moment and had one last thought about heading back down the road and towards the town. But Ioan’s note kept tugging me onwards towards the rugged hills.

The route was every bit as magnificent as Dennis had promised but it equally matched his warnings of difficulty. After an hour I stopped to take a small cupful of the tea Dennis had made and put into a flask for me. I hadn’t expected it to be enriched with a small hint of Whisky and though not to my usual taste it provided me with the warming I needed to continue with my journey.

The longer I walked, the more at ease with the world I became. I was cold and my feet were beginning to feel increasingly wet but the tranquillity of the nothingness was soothing. Every so often I felt there was someone coming the other way and the prospect of knowing there was another soul on the path put me at ease but it was a trick of the environment and by the start of the third hour I was feeling thoroughly alone. It was nearly two in the afternoon when I finally saw the tiny little cottage sat being slowly consumed by the crowberry and heather. The light was dimming and the first sign of there being anyone there was the distant glow of my brother’s cigarette. It was short lived as almost as soon as I had seen it the light tumbled to the floor and the figure behind it disappeared sharply into the bothy.

Half an hour later and the night was swiftly drawing in on me. I could see what Dennis had meant about the old crofter’s cottage. It was generally intact but the walls seemed so tired they were ready to fall in and rest from the harsh Scottish storms they had stood against for generations. I walked up to the worn wooden door and knocked.

“Who is it,” croaked the voice from inside.

I replied and the door slowly and carefully creaked open.

“Come in, quickly and lock the door behind you.” The voice rasped with urgency.

I did as I was asked and stepped into the warm glow of an open fire roaring into the room. I was immediately engulfed in a disarming embrace.

“Thank you. Oh thank you.”

Ioan broke into sobs of relief and collapsed to the floor in front of me. I barely recognised him, it had been years since the last time I had even seen a picture of my brother but this crumpled heap in front of me was little more than a shell of a human. I lifted him to his feet, off the cold stone floor and helped him onto one of the old wooden chairs.

“Ioan, what is going on? Why are you here?” I asked.

“I am hiding. From him.” He replied.

“Him? Him who?” I asked sitting down on a chair and pulling it closer to him.

“The Taggy Man. I came here to get away from him.”

At this point my heart sank. I knew my brothers alcoholism had been wearing away at him. He noticed the change in my expression and his shoulders dropped and he turned away. It was at this point I noticed the room I was in. There were candles everywhere and they illuminated the bizzare symbols scrawled over the walls. There were bundles of sage smouldering in bowls everywhere and piles of salt sat in each corner of the room.

“I’m not drinking any more. I haven’t drank for nearly a year. I’m not making this up, the Taggy man is looking for me. I’ve seen every kind of therapist you could imagine and even I began to believe I was mad but I’m not and he’s real and he’s been trying to take me for years.”

I paused for a moment, those weren’t the words of someone imagining something, they were sincere and clearly firmly believed. I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, placing my hand on his knee I told him to tell me everything. At this he gushed through his stories. The dam had broken and twenty years of fear and confusion smashed through his tears and crashed into me with such a weight I felt years of guilt drowning me.

Ioan had never played with the cloth doll. He had been playing with a man he knew as the Taggy Man. He was old and dirty, he wore a ragged black suit with a top hat and wore a green ribbon round his neck rather than a tie. He was apparently a gruffly spoken man with a strange accent who would in one minute be all smiles, the next darkened with rage. Ioan said that as he got older the Taggy Man’s rages became more frequent and he played with him less and less. This proved an irritation to the strange man. Even as an older teenager and then an adult he was still around and no sort of counselling or medication would make him go away which was why the alcohol became the solution. Eventually he met a psychic at a hostel who spotted the man straight away. She told him that the man had been alive in the early 1800s and had stolen and sold children as his occupation which he had managed to continue successfully for many years before he was caught. On his way to the gallows a deal was struck with a demon who saved him as long as he continued his business, but while he got the coin for the children’s labouring bodies the demon took their souls.

This deal worked out so well for the demon he was reluctant to let it go even after the man died and so the demon set the man’s spirit on an eternal hunt for children’s souls. The psychic could not explain the link with the doll or why he had taken such a shine to Ioan but she was certain he would not stop till she had his soul.

Ioan had sobered and spent time visiting psychics, witches, druids, anyone who could help him, they all gave him ways to hide from or keep out the Taggy Man but there was nobody who could offer a solution. This is why he was here, he had resolved to find the most remote place and keep him at bay. But now he was sure he had found him and that is why he had sent the letter.

By the time my brother had told me the story I was determined to help rid him of his curse but before we did anything I fed him. The glorious spread Dennis had provided raised his spirits and for a moment it seemed he had forgotten his fears. It was short lived as soon the silence of the wilderness was broken by the undoubted sound of footsteps outside the Bothy.

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

Ioan stopped and looked at me.

“It’s him. He has been outside every night. He’s trying to get in. I’m sure we are secure in here but he will keep trying.”

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

The sound moved from the door to the window where Ioan had pinned up an old sheet.

Tap, tap, tap.

We both froze, neither of us daring to breathe. There was silence, it hung over us as we waited for something terrible to happen. Then the crunching started again moving round to the back of the house.

I looked at Ioan, he was white and the exhausted appearance drifted over him again.

“He will try the back now. It’s secure, I did it before you came, but he’s trying to get on the roof. He tried last night but I think the iron nails in the roof joists and tiles keep him off. But I am worried he will find a way.”

Rattle.

The back door began to shake angrily and then stopped abruptly.

“Is there nothing we can do to rid you of him?” I asked desperately.

“I have tried everything, but the last resort is that down there.”

I looked at the spot he was pointing at down by the fire. An old set of chains with an even older looking padlock.

If I can get those chains round him, lock them and throw the key into the fire he might be held forever. But I daren't try it. If it goes wrong he will have me.”

Crunch, crunch, crunch.

He was back at the front of the door again. This time he did not touch the door, but we knew he was out there.

“Ioan, Ioan, I know you’re in there. I can hear your breathing. Let me in Ioan, we have games to play. Don’t you way to play with your old friend?” Came a hiss through the wood.

I looked at my brother, I had heard it too, he seemed buoyed by my shock. He was not alone now. The Taggy Man had revealed himself to someone else.

“Oh Ioan. Is that your brother in there with you. We can all play. I have games for three. You know I’ll get in eventually so come on just open the door.”

For the first time I froze, whilst I had changed my view and believed Ioan’s fear I hadn’t really comprehended what that fear meant. Now it had a voice.

There was a whoosh and the fire began to falter. Ioan span around and dived onto his pile of wood hurriedly throwing new logs to fuel it further.

“We just have to keep going till sunrise, then he goes away.” Ioan said shaking.

I looked at my poor, broken brother and I felt rage. His life had been wasted at the hands of this thing and I would not let it take another moment from him. Before I could act the front door began to shudder.

“The chains. We need to try the chains!” I said with ridiculous and mindless bravery.

Ioan looked fearfully at me as the door buckled and groaned against the furious spirit on the other side. He looked like he was about to speak when suddenly the chaos stopped. We looked at each other and then at the windows and then the fire.

Clink.

What was that?

Clink.

Ioan’s eyes widened in terror.

“He’s unpicking the tiles.”

In a flash I picked up the chains and grabbed my brother shoving him behind the door. I pushed one end into his hand took the other myself in my right hand and grasped the padlock tightly in my left.

Thud.

He was in.

We could hear him prowling around the rooms above us, the old floorboards creaking under his feet.

Then he was on the stairs, slowly and deliberately he stepped down each step ensuring we could hear the squeak of every board he moved down until with an unnecessary jump he reached the bottom.

“I’m just outside now Ioan. Time to play.” Came the sickeningly over friendly voice drifting through the room. Then came the footsteps towards the door. Slowly, agonisingly slowly he made his way towards us. As he reached the salted doorway I heard him blow the line away from the frame with a crackling chuckle.

“Ioan.” He rasped as he stepped into the room.

It was now or never. I threw myself across the doorway pulling the chain tightly behind me. It stretched across the dark figure’s chest. He howled as the iron burned against his body. Emboldened by this Ioan darted around his back pulling the chain around him clamping his arms to his sides and stopping him dead. He bucked and threw his head towards us, his pointed nose stopping so close to mine that had he breathed I could have felt his breath. His pale pitted skin made his sunken eyes seem darker, as they tore into mine with fury and rage. He opened his sore ridden mouth to reveal his yellow and broken teeth and roared at me. I was unmoved despite my terror. Ioan wrenched the chain further round and I heard the sizzle of the iron burning the fiend. Quickly I clamped the padlock through the links of the chain and locked it tightly. As I did the bucking and writhing creature fell to the floor screaming in white hot anger.

“What now?” I said.

Ioan took the key from me and threw it into the fire.

“There’s a pool, a really deep pool not far from here, let’s drop him in there.”

It was raining now and the wind was picking up. There was light from the moon but it came and went as the clouds crept past it. I grabbed a torch in one hand and took hold of the chain in the other. Ioan grabbed the chain too and we dragged the man as he kicked and screamed at us furiously cursing us and damning our souls. It was cold and as we became more sodden we got more painfully cold but our determination and fear drove us on through the brutal terrain. I don’t know how long it took but I don’t think I had any sensation left in my limbs by the time we reached the pool. With our last reserves of energy we heaved him up and flung him into the freezing black depths. We watched as the water swallowed him and stood shivering until the last of the ripples rested flat against the surface.

Neither of us spoke as we trudged back to the bothy. We changed out of our wet clothes in silence in front of the fire and it wasn’t until we had taken tea and some cake before we spoke. Then we couldn’t stop. We were like the bothers of our childhood. We chatted and joked demolishing Dennis’ provisions until the sun rose. Despite our lack of sleep we were determined to leave. Once the Bothy was restored and our belongings packed we made our way into the bright but bitterly cold morning.

It took longer than expected to reach the town but we were there and it felt like the world was bright and full of life again. We walked through the streets as people went about their days feeling like we had a special new fraternal bond that nobody else could see but could all sense.

Dennis was ready to meet us at the door. We were fed and shown to our rooms without question and both slept through until the following day. We told Dennis our story over breakfast and he barely batted an eye at our tale, he simply added an extra slice of lorne to our plates. We spent another day at the guest house during which Ioan agreed to come and stay with me to get himself started on his path again.

The following morning Dennis dropped us at the station and we made our way onto the train. Despite everything I was sad to leave Aviemore and the kind hospitality of Dennis but it was time to go home. As the train slowly began the process of starting its engines I looked back down the platform at the people heading for the exits. Suddenly out of the corner of my eye I spotted a child trotting along happily holding her mother’s hand. In the other swinging innocently a familiar cloth doll. I leapt from my seat but as I did the train began to move and the child was gone from my sight. As the train pulled away I looked back at the platform and at the end, walking slowly away towards the exit was a figure in black with a crumpled hat and blowing in the breeze I could just make out a green ribbon.