The Shadow of the Sycamores Read online

  Hoping to soothe him, Fay murmured, ‘Abby will be here shortly.’

  That seemed to ease his mind and he lay still once more, although he did wince when Joseph applied another skin-blistering hot poultice.

  Fay’s fears lessened. The dangerous line on his arm had fallen back and what there was of it was not nearly so red. The fever was abating – he was on the road to recovery.

  Instead of the extreme happiness she should have felt when her father announced that their patient was out of danger, she was dismayed to find herself wishing that he would not recover properly, that he would never have to return to The Sycamores, that he could stay with her for ever and ever. For the few hours that were left of the night, she wove dreams of them courting, marrying, having children.

  A single thought drove her abruptly back to reality. Who was the Abby he had called for in his delirium? He must be really fond of her – maybe even loved her? Disconcerted, Fay made up her mind to forget Henry Rae when he left. There was no earthly reason why they should ever meet again. No reason whatsoever. Was there?

  * * *

  Henry was still quite weak when Catherine Leslie dropped him off at The Sycamores and Janet managed to persuade Innes Ledingham to let him go home for a week or so to recover properly. ‘He won’t be able to do much here anyway,’ she went on, to stress her point.

  Not altogether happy about this, the Superintendent instructed young Roddy to take Henry to Corrieben Halt, where he would get a train to take him to Ardbirtle. The ‘invalid’ did not argue about being given time off work. He knew perfectly well that he was no use to man or beast at the moment, as farmers might put it, and it would be good to see his sister again. He had neglected her shamefully.

  With only two trains per day stopping at Ardbirtle, it was early evening before he arrived at Abby’s house.

  ‘Oh, Lordy, Henry, what a fleg you gave me,’ she exclaimed, when he walked in without knocking. Then the shock in her eyes changed to concern. ‘Why’s your arm in a sling? What happened? Are you all right? You’re awful white!’

  ‘I cut my hand wi’ a scythe,’ he explained, sitting down as the weakness took a greater toll on him. He’d only had a short walk from the station but it had sapped what little strength he had. ‘I havena to go back till a week on Sunday.’ Noticing that his sister was looking embarrassed now, he added, ‘If that’s all right wi’ you?’

  ‘It’s fine, Henry. It’s just … ach, what does it matter? I’d better tell you.’

  ‘Aye?’ he urged, sensing that she was unwilling to come out with it.

  She took a deep breath. ‘Well, you see, me and Pogie have been … he’s been coming here when he finishes his work every night …’

  ‘You and Pogie Laing?’ Henry’s tone disclosed what he felt about this liaison. ‘Don’t say you’re taking up wi’ him, Abby? You’re not … sleeping wi’ him?’

  ‘No, no!’ She was as appalled by this idea as her brother was. ‘He just comes for his supper, then we sometimes go for a walk if it’s fine but sometimes … we bide in … just speaking.’

  ‘Just speaking? Is that it?’

  ‘Some kissing and hugging but nothing else. Honest, Henry, I wouldn’t let him do one thing he shouldn’t.’

  ‘I would hope no’! The thing is, though, maybe he’ll nae aye stop when you tell him. Once a man’s body gets fired up …’

  ‘Oh, Henry, what do you ken aboot it? You surely haven’t …?

  ‘No, I haven’t, but Janet once tell’t me.’

  ‘Janet? How did she come to be telling you that kind o’ thing?’

  ‘It was when we were at Craigdownie and the other lads were tormenting me and I didna ken what they meant so I asked her.’

  ‘Oh.’ After considering this and apparently being satisfied that he was telling the truth, she said, shyly, ‘I think Pogie’s near ready to ask me for his wife.’

  ‘Is that what you want?

  ‘It is, Henry,’ she whispered, face flaming. ‘He’s maybe not the best catch in the world but him and me get on just fine.’

  Henry could hardly believe that a girl as attractive as Abby would want to tie herself to a man as unattractive as the Pogie Laing he remembered. His teeth were too big for his mouth, sticking out so his lips couldn’t meet. His head was too big for his body, though it must be more than half-empty, for he hadn’t much of a brain. Not only that, he had always been a smarmy king of lad, a ‘creeping Jesus’, Gramma used to describe him and he’d picked the right job. A funeral undertaker’s assistant! Still, if he was what Abby wanted …

  ‘Well, I hope things work out for you.’

  ‘They will, Henry. I’m sure they will’

  By the end of his short stay, Henry, too, was sure of it. Pogie Laing was much more presentable than he used to be, his face seemed to have grown to contain his teeth, although it remained to be seen if his brain had grown to fill his head. He had never been a great talker but it was quite evident how he felt about Abby. His eyes followed her with a dog-like devotion, he helped her to set the table, to dry the dishes after the meal and lay them away. He even brought in coal and chopped sticks – all the chores of a married man without any of the benefits, Henry mused in bed on his last night there. Abby could do an awful lot worse.

  What about himself, though? His heart was set on Fay Leslie but he wasn’t good enough for her. It would probably be better all round if he left things as they were. He would only make a fool of himself if he told her how he felt.

  In the morning, a blushing Abby said, shyly, ‘Pogie asked me last night.’

  Not understanding, her brother asked something he had wondered about for years.

  ‘Why do they cry him Pogie? What’s his real name?’

  ‘He was baptised Clarence but when he was a wee laddie and his Granda took his pipe off the mantelpiece, he used to hand him the packet of Bogie Roll and shout, “Pogie, Ga-da?” And the name just stuck.’

  Henry couldn’t help laughing at this. ‘I suppose Pogie suits him a lot better than Clarence. Now, what were you saying about last night?’

  ‘He asked me to marry him … and I said yes.’

  ‘Oh … well … ach, I’m pleased for you, Abby. He’s changed a lot since I mind on him and he thinks the world o’ you.’

  ‘I think the world o’ him and all. I want to tell you something else, Henry.’

  ‘Go on, then, for I’ll need to be leaving in a wee while.’

  ‘We’re not having a big wedding but … I’m going to ask Father and Nessie.’ His frown made her carry on before he could say anything. ‘Pogie’s got his father and mother and two brothers and three sisters and I’ve only Father and you … and Nessie.’

  ‘There’s Jeannie and Bella and Kitty,’ he reminded her.

  ‘They canna afford to come and, if I write and invite them, they’ll think I want them to send a present. You’ll come, though, Henry?’

  ‘Have you set the date?’

  ‘Not yet but I’ll let you ken.’

  ‘I’d like fine to come but … Father and Nessie …’

  ‘They’ve mellowed. They visit me at least once a fortnight. Nessie sometimes comes on her own and asks how I’m managing. She’s offered me money more than once, though I never take it. So, will you come, Henry?’

  Not wanting to spoil his sister’s happiness, he smiled, ‘I’ll do my best.’

  Back at The Sycamores, Henry was excused from all heavy work for another week, but he soon grew worried by Janet’s obvious unease whenever the Superintendent was around. It was a few days, however, before he got the chance to ask her what was worrying her. At first, she denied that anything was wrong, but he said, ‘Do you not trust me enough to tell me? I thought we were closer than that.’

  She gave in. ‘It’s Innes.’

  ‘I thought it might be. Has he taken up wi’ somebody else?’

  ‘Just the opposite. You see, he’s been trying for ages to get me to sleep with him and, when I kept refusing,
he said he would marry me if it wasn’t for the two obstacles.’

  Henry nodded. ‘Your mother and his wife?’

  ‘Exactly. Well, Ma passed away just days after that … and now …’

  ‘I suppose he’s saying his wife’s going to divorce him?’

  ‘Worse than that, Henry. He says she’s died and all.’

  ‘You think it’s a lie … to get you to …?’

  ‘I hardly like to think that.’

  ‘If it’s true, would you marry him?’

  ‘If I was sure it was true, I would.’

  ‘Janet, a man in his position wouldna tell lies. I’m sure you’re worrying over nothing. If he does offer marriage, jump at it. You deserve to be happy.’

  She patted his shoulder. ‘Thank you, Henry. You’ve made me feel a lot better. What about you, though? Have you found yourself a lass?’

  ‘I’ve found somebody I’d like to be my lass but that’ll never happen.’

  Intrigued, Janet persisted, ‘Is she anybody I know?’

  ‘It’s Fay Leslie.’

  ‘The druggist’s lassie? Why can it never happen?’

  ‘She would never look at the likes o’ me.’

  ‘That’s daft, Henry, and you’ll never find out unless you go and ask her.’

  ‘You think I should?’

  ‘Of course you should!’

  Janet’s encouragement being all he needed, Henry set off on foot for Drymill the following Sunday just after eleven o’clock. It wasn’t much more than three miles so he didn’t need to borrow the old bicycle that Max had bought at a roup a few months before. Besides, why should he tell Max where he was going? Max never told him.

  Arms swinging, heart beating just that tiny bit faster at the thought of seeing Fay again, he stepped out confidently once he was on the road. The time and the distance passed quickly as he planned what to say, his thoughts interrupted every now and then by the sight of a pheasant crossing a field, with her wee chicks trailing behind her, or a rabbit scuttling to reach his burrow or a flock of starlings darkening the sky as they flew south for the winter.

  The coldness of the bright October morning did not bother him – his steady pace kept him warm – and it wasn’t until he came to the first house in the village that the doubts began and the impetus left him. Should he carry on? This journey was a complete waste of time. How could he expect a girl like Fay, middle class, well educated – she had likely gone to one of the academies – to consider him as a suitor? Of course, being the girl she was, she would try not to hurt his feelings. She would turn him down as gently as she could but it would still be painful.

  He had slowed down and almost abandoned his mission before reaching the chemist’s shop but something made him keep moving … straight on, past his intended target. He wasn’t quite ready yet. He needed some more time to prepare himself.

  Fay had been tidying up the little storeroom behind the shop, the place where her father did his dispensing; where she made up the pills the patients needed and put them in little round, labelled boxes; where the powders – sleeping, laxative and other kinds – were placed on squares of paper and folded in a special way to stop spillage. Her parents had gone to church and it was her turn to stay behind in case someone needed something – only medications prescribed by the doctor, of course. It was against the law to sell anything else on a Sunday.

  Every shelf and bottle as neat as she could make it, she went into the shop itself to see the time. Quarter past twelve. It was difficult to know exactly when her parents would be home because the minister had a habit of not bringing his sermon to an end until folk were beginning to fidget in their seats. Furthermore, they usually stopped to speak to friends – being the chemist, her father was known to every family in Drymill and miles around.

  Hearing footsteps, she looked up expecting to see her father and mother outside but it wasn’t them. It was a young man who reminded her of … it was Henry Rae and he had walked straight past. Not taking time to wonder why he hadn’t come in to see her, Fay raced out to call him back. ‘Henry! Henry!’

  He turned uncertainly, even reluctantly, she thought, wishing that she had just let him go wherever he was going but his slight frown disappeared into a broad beam of sheer delight as he ran towards her. ‘Henry,’ she murmured, her throat constricting, her cheeks on fire, her heart thumping a merry tattoo.

  Caught up in emotions too strong to deny, she ran into his open arms and was swung off the ground in his exuberant hug. Little they knew, or cared, that the church had disgorged its congregation and that dozens of people, her parents included, were witness to their show of love.

  Their euphoria was not to last. In just a few seconds, Joseph Leslie was hauling his daughter away and pushing her through the shop door, waiting until they were inside before he gave vent to his feelings. ‘What do you think you were doing?’ he roared. ‘Not only were you making a fool of yourself, you were making a fool of me. What must people think of me for not teaching my daughter what is decent and what is indecent behaviour? I have never, ever, seen such a disgraceful show …’

  ‘I think you have gone far enough, Joseph.’ His wife had brought the shaken Henry in with her. ‘They were doing nothing indecent, as well you know, and everyone was smiling, not criticising. Just the same,’ she continued, addressing the two young people, ‘it is not exactly seemly to hug in the street.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Leslie.’ Henry’s face was burning now with embarrassment at what he had done and the disgrace of it but also with the heat of the passion which had swept through him when he was holding the girl of his dreams in his arms. ‘I didn’t mean any harm, it was … I thought Fay wouldn’t want to have anything to do with an odd-job man and, when I realised that she felt the same as I did, I … didn’t think.’

  Fay, who had been reduced to tears by her father’s verbal assault, now plucked up courage to say, ‘It wasn’t all your fault, Henry. I was just as much to blame.’

  Taking note that boy and girl were holding hands, Catherine Leslie looked sternly at her husband. ‘Have you forgotten how it feels to be young and in love? There were times when you couldn’t wait and you kissed me wherever we were.’

  ‘Certainly not if anyone could see us,’ he retorted but his tone was less harsh.

  ‘I didn’t notice anybody there.’ Henry was almost wishing that he had not been so impulsive. It should have been a private moment, not a peep show for all and sundry.

  Catherine’s smile was wide. ‘I think we should draw a curtain over the incident, Joseph. It was certainly not planned. Now, Henry, you will stay for some dinner? Then you and Fay can go for a walk and talk things over.’

  Later, alone with her still brooding husband, Catherine asked him why he was so against Henry. ‘I thought you liked him. He is a decent boy, hard-working …’

  ‘I did like him but liking is one thing, having him courting my daughter is an entirely different matter. Hard working, you said? An odd-job man in an asylum? What kind of work is that? How can he hope to provide for a wife and family on what he earns?’

  ‘I should not imagine that he will be an odd-job man for ever. As a married man, he will have ambitions but, even if he does not, I am sure that Fay would not mind being an odd-job man’s wife. Love is all-powerful.’

  ‘Love is blind!’ he sneered.

  ‘Yes, Joseph, that is true, too. I have not exactly been happy to have my only daughter coming in contact with men and women who were perhaps carrying all sorts of diseases but I knew that you loved your work and I loved you so I said nothing.’

  ‘You have not been happy here?’ Joseph sounded incredulous. ‘I had no idea.’

  ‘I got over it. I have been happy with you, Joseph, though I must say it would be nice if you showed me a little more affection.’

  ‘Ah, Catherine, I am sorry. I was never one for displaying my feelings but I do care for you. I do … love you.’

  ‘I know, really, but it needs to be said occasio
nally, don’t you see?’

  ‘Indeed I do … but to get back to the present problem. You are not honestly suggesting that I accept Henry Rae as a suitable husband for Fay?’

  She grinned at his serious face. ‘Yes, I am honestly suggesting that. They love each other and that is all that matters.’

  ‘Love conquers all?’

  ‘Yes, it can if they work at it.’

  Fay had almost as much of a problem in making Henry understand that she loved him and didn’t mind what he worked at or where.

  ‘But your father won’t agree to our marrying,’ he said sorrowfully, ‘and I wouldn’t blame him. I would want better for my daughter if I had one.’

  ‘We will have one,’ she beamed, her kiss making him ache to marry her as soon as it was possible. ‘More than one and sons and … oh, Henry, isn’t it wonderful?’

  Not so sure that marriage would ever be an option, he gave a valiant smile. ‘It couldn’t be more wonderful, my darling.’

  When they returned to the shop, Catherine said brightly, ‘I expect you have something to ask Fay’s father, Henry?’

  This aspect not having been discussed, the youth hesitated, but the girl’s prod made him burst out, ‘Yes, I have. Mr Leslie, will you give me your permission to court your daughter … with a view to marriage?’

  Again a little hesitation, again a little prod, before Joseph muttered, ‘I have been talked into this and I am still doubtful about the wisdom of it but I give my permission for you to court Fay. Just remember, if you let her down, you will have to answer to me.’

  ‘I won’t let her down, Mr Leslie, I promise.’

  On his long walk back to The Sycamores, Henry went over everything that had happened that day. Fate had made Fay notice him going past because he didn’t believe, even now, that he would have had the courage to go into the shop to see her. An even kinder Fate had let him know that she felt as deeply for him as he did for her but they were not out of the woods yet.

  Joseph Leslie had given his permission to the courtship but had avoided any mention of marriage. He was likely hoping that Fay would tire of the relationship and bring it to an end before it got as far as marriage. If that was the case, Henry thought grimly, he was going to be sorely disappointed.