‘But you don’t think I’m dull, Mrs Millwood? You’d settle for—’
‘You dull? Heavens, no! I know the dark secrets your cellar holds. I know all about the shady double life you lead. And I know about your past and your rebirth.’
‘This is all quite true, Mrs Millwood. You do know me well. You’re possibly the only person on the planet who knows all of it.’
Mrs Millwood snorted down the phone, a sound that reflected her disbelief. ‘That sounds like you’re putting all your eggs in one basket, Mr Doubler. And this basket definitely isn’t up to holding something as delicate as eggs. I think you need a contingency plan. What about the kids? How open are you with them? They know what you went through, and they know about your business matters, I assume?’
‘Of course not! They have their own version of their childhood. They haven’t had to rewrite it, so they know their past, not mine. And as far my gradual infiltration into the murky underworld of business, they know absolutely nothing of that. Both children are very satisfied with their dull father and his dull potatoes. They don’t need to know anything more than that. Julian particularly thrives on the knowledge of my pitiful life. It helps him to feel successful. The less he thinks of me, the more he thinks of himself.’
‘That is a rather sad outlook. The thing is, Doubler, by not being honest about all you have achieved, they don’t really understand how extraordinary you are. You are not only at the forefront of scientific breakthrough but you’re an entrepreneur! Are you not tempted to bring them in on your secret?’
‘No. Camilla would be horrified. I think it would offend her morals: she makes it quite clear that I’ve let her down enough as it is. And Julian would find an opportunity to exploit it. Once he got hold of the information, I bet he would find a way to suck the joy right out of it.’
‘And it does bring you joy, does it?’
‘It does. Creativity is good for the soul and my business enterprise is the means through which I have been able to explore my creativity. I’d never have had the patience to be a watercolourist, or the talent for that matter. But making something special from my potatoes on the side? This is something I can do that is consequential and people seem to really quite appreciate it.’
‘But you’ll never get any recognition for it! It will always remain a dark secret. And your children will never appreciate you for your brilliance. That does seem a shame.’
‘Haven’t I done enough for my children to value me? I’ve built this life here. I raised them. I carried on raising them long after their mother decided to give up on them. Do other dads have to jump through hoops to earn the respect of their children? Isn’t it enough for them just to be tied by blood? I don’t believe I should have to prove myself to them. And I don’t need recognition in other circles – my potatoes will be my legacy.’
From the tiny sounds of displeasure down the telephone, Doubler detected Mrs Millwood’s dissatisfaction. He adopted a more conciliatory tone, seeking to reassure her that he was an ambitious man. ‘The minute I receive confirmation from the Institute of Potato Research and Development in northern India, I shall write up my findings formally, with their accreditation attached, of course, and I shall submit it to all the periodicals while simultaneously applying for the registration of the genus and its trademark. I very much hope that is only a matter of weeks away. But the other thing? No, that’s not my legacy, but it is something that gives me an enormous amount of satisfaction.’
Mrs Millwood remained unsatisfied with this response. She was displeased by the lack of effort Doubler was prepared to go to in order to secure the respect of his children. But she knew Doubler well and she recognized that his tone betrayed not anger but sadness. She let the silence gather around them before Doubler broke it.
‘And besides, this conversation wasn’t about me, was it? You were supposed to be filling me in on the rest of the team. So what can you tell me about Derek, then?’
‘Derek, oh, you’ll meet him soon enough.’ Mrs Millwood sounded like she’d lost interest in the conversation, but Doubler wasn’t ready to let her off the hook.
‘But what about him?’ said Doubler, insensitive to her quietness and relishing another character assassination embellished with salacious gossip that rendered each of the volunteers as mere extras in the feature starring Doubler and Mrs Millwood.
‘You can make your own mind up about Derek. I’ll see that you meet him. I’ll make sure he’s there when you’re next in the office. He’ll make sure there’s no funny business with the Colonel and the rest of them. Derek’s a steady pair of hands.’
‘I shall certainly look out for him, but I’m not sure you can influence the rota from your hospital bed, can you?’
‘Of course I can. Derek calls in to see me most days. I’ll simply ask him to make sure he drops in to see you when you’re next there.’
Doubler felt himself unable to swallow. But the overwhelming sensation, greater than all the emotions swirling round his brain like mercury in a concrete mixer, was one of nausea. He thought he might throw up right there in the hallway.
He exhaled steadily, calming himself until he managed to find his voice. ‘Derek visits you in the hospital? Midge made it quite clear to me that you weren’t receiving visitors and that you were not to be disturbed.’
‘Oh, well, Derek is something different. I consider him part of my palliative care.’ Mrs Millwood spoke softly and Doubler strained to hear any frivolity in her voice: she was quite serious.
‘I’m a little tired, Mr Doubler. Would you mind if we carried on tomorrow? I need to rest.’
‘Of course. Quite so. Get some sleep and we’ll talk again.’
Doubler was trembling as he replaced the receiver, and wearied by the very same things that excited him just minutes before, he walked slowly to the sitting room and lowered himself into his chair, where he sat quite still and allowed the day to grow quite, quite still with him.
Chapter 16
Midge rang heavily on the bell and Doubler hurried round the corner of the house, having just finished a circuit of the farm.
‘I saw your car – you really don’t have to ring. Use the side door and make yourself at home. It’s always open.’
‘I wasn’t planning to pop up today, but Mum insisted. She asked me to pick something up from the shops for you.’
‘She did?’
Doubler and Midge headed out of the cold into the kitchen together. In a synchronized ritual that pleased Doubler very much, they both bent down to wriggle out of their wellington boots, standing both pairs side by side before heading towards the Aga and, still in unison, turning to lean back against the old range for warmth.
‘How is your mum doing, Midge? Will she be out of that place soon, do you suppose?’
Midge looked worn out as she answered. ‘The thing about my mum, Doubler, is that she is terribly resilient. She always has been. I hear the doctors say one thing, but I look into my mum’s eyes and I see something else. My mum is fuelled by stubborn determination. I’ve always believed in her and I don’t see any purpose in doubting her now.’
‘So she’s on track, would you say? She’ll be home soon?’
Midge studied Doubler’s face carefully. His baseless hope was of equal weight to her mother’s belligerence. She shook her head briefly and, ending the conversation, handed Doubler a plain white plastic bag. Cautiously, he peered inside.
‘There’s not a pig or a chicken in here, is there?’ he asked, looking at a brown, unlabelled box, as long as a shoebox but about half the width.
‘It’s a gift, I think. Well, I’m rather hoping you’ll know why Mum wanted you to have this and why she seemed to think you needed it so urgently.’
Doubler continued to peer at the featureless box, enjoying the thrill of anticipation while craving a moment of privacy to examine the contents alone. This was not just any gift but an unasked-for gift. And it wasn’t just an unasked-for gift; it was a gift from Mrs Millwood, who
was thinking of his needs while lying in her hospital bed. It didn’t really matter what was inside. He already loved it.
Midge watched him eyeing up the box. ‘Go on, open it up. It won’t bite.’
Doubler removed it gently from the plastic bag and placed it beside the Aga. He folded the plastic bag carefully in half, smoothing it out. He put the plastic bag away in a drawer on top of a pile of equally neatly folded plastic bags.
‘Come on. I know what’s in there and I’m intrigued to see if you knew you needed it. Do get on with it. I haven’t got all day.’
Doubler took his penknife from his jacket pocket and with meticulous precision he painstakingly sliced the Sellotape that sealed each end. He peered in and then shook out the contents. They were a snug fit, so it took a few vigorous shakes to release them. A tightly wound bundle of cable and two plugs tumbled out onto the work surface. Doubler scratched his head but refused to look at Midge for help. Puzzled, he stared hard at the coil, thinking carefully. Then its significance dawned on him. He smiled, and picking it up, he hurried to the hallway and connected it in place. He removed a plastic twist that held the coil tight and he allowed the lead to unfurl fully as he carried the telephone with him into the kitchen.
‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ he said. ‘Who’d have thought it?’ He took the phone to the table, sat down and picked up the receiver while pretending to dial. ‘Well, this is a turn-up for the books, isn’t it? Revolutionary, I’d say.’
‘Revolutionary indeed, Doubler. This has propelled you right into the twentieth century.’
‘It certainly has. I’m at the cutting edge. Look at me – I’ve got a mobile phone!’ He stood up and carried the telephone carefully with him, retracing his steps into the hallway but this time turning into the sitting room. He allowed the lead to trail behind him once again and went and sat by the fire. He placed the phone on the table next to him and looked at it, as if he expected it to ring right away.
Midge watched him from the doorway and smiled. ‘Little things please little minds, Doubler.’
Doubler was now smiling even more broadly. ‘It might seem little to you, but I can honestly say this is a vast life improvement. I’d go as far as to call it a game-changer. I can have the phone by the fire or in the kitchen, which is exactly as your dear, dear mother must have envisaged it. That woman is a wonder. Sometimes I think she understands me better than I understand myself.’
Midge studied him carefully before laughing and shaking her head. ‘It’s not exactly a hi-tech solution, you know. I think this technology has been around for as long as the telephone. What on earth took you so long to get an extension lead?’
Doubler thought hard about this and looked at Midge earnestly. ‘I suppose I’ve had no call for the phone until now. It never occurred to me that the phone was for anything other than relaying short messages, and I was quite capable of standing in a draughty hall for those. But I’m spending more time on the telephone these days. I’d never quite appreciated what a wonderful invention it is, to tell you the truth. Oh, granted, I’ve always been aware of its value in an emergency, but for day-to-day living? It’s only just revealing its potential to me.’
Midge laughed. ‘Now, while I’m here, Mum also asked me to take a quick look at your Land Rover. Would you mind?’
‘Good heavens, no, I don’t mind in the least, but why everyone is suddenly taking such an extraordinary interest in my car I simply can’t imagine. Let me show you the way.’
They left the house, reversing the ritual as they replaced their boots and coats. Doubler led the way, picking up a big bunch of keys as he left. ‘Thanks for coming up today, Midge. You didn’t need to do that.’
‘It was important to Mum. She’s happy I’m keeping an eye on you.’
‘Hmmm,’ said Doubler, wondering out loud. ‘And are there other people you’re, you know, keeping an eye on for her?’
‘Other people? Like who?’
‘Derek? Has your mum asked you to keep an eye on Derek? She’s very fond of Derek.’
‘Golly. I lose track. Which one is Derek?’
‘Never mind,’ said Doubler, mollified by this response. He was aware that he was fishing, and not wanting to build any greater significance for Derek by alluding to him further, he changed the subject. ‘You know something about cars, do you?’
‘Yes, a fair bit. It’s what comes of having a mechanic for a father and no siblings. Dad absolutely loved cars. Was always under the bonnet of one pet project or another. It was the old stuff he liked the best. Always maintained that the fewer parts to go wrong, the better the car.’
‘I feel a bit like that about telephones. Come to think of it, I feel a bit like that about life. Here she is.’ Doubler opened the garage door.
It took Midge a while for her eyes to adjust to the dark. But once she could take in the car, she let out a slow whistle of appreciation.
‘What a beauty,’ she said, running her hand along the bonnet.
‘She gets me from A to B. I don’t have much call for her, but she’s never let me down. Sometimes the old ones are just so much more reliable.’
‘I couldn’t agree more. These were built to last, these were. And, of course, they were supposed to be workhorses. Tough as old nails.’
‘Well, she’s certainly been worked hard, that’s for sure. In the past, she had to put in the effort, so she’s earned her rest now.’
‘And she’s never given you any problems?’
‘None at all.’
‘Never been to the garage for repairs?’
‘Nope, not that I recall.’
‘She’s as she was when she left the factory?’ Midge asked this with rising excitement evident in her voice.
‘May I?’ she said as she climbed into the cab of the car and stroked the steering wheel appreciatively. She adjusted the mirror as if she were about to set off on a long journey and then peered at the dashboard. The dim overhead light gave her very little help in the dark interior of the garage, so she flipped on the torch on her phone and pointed it at the milometer.
‘I thought you said she worked hard!’ Midge exclaimed, squealing now. ‘She’s practically brand new. She’s got less than thirty thousand miles on the clock.’
Doubler peered into the car, looking behind the steering wheel, examining the dashboard as if for the very first time. ‘Thirty thousand? As much as that? You surprise me. I suppose it all adds up.’ He swung the driver’s door shut on Midge with a very pleasing clunk of metal on metal and then walked round to the passenger’s side, where he climbed in next to her.
Midge looked at him. ‘Doubler, you really can’t have used her much at all!’
‘Oh, but I did. Back in the early days, she was used an enormous amount. Not too much on the road, mind you. Marie had a biggish car that we used for outings and such. She wouldn’t have been happy driving this. Hated it, in fact. Wouldn’t even go in it as a passenger. I bought it soon after I bought the farm and it was a hefty investment, getting myself a proper farm vehicle fit for purpose. It was pristine, as good as new and with barely any miles on the clock. Bit naughty in hindsight. Reckless, even. Can’t think what got into me. Golly, Marie wasn’t happy.’ Doubler smiled wryly at the memory. ‘I suppose it sent out a pretty strong signal that I was committed to life as a farmer. Perhaps it was the first time she realized what she’d signed up to. A lifetime of potatoes.’
Midge sat still with both hands on the steering wheel. Doubler leant back in his seat and strapped himself in. Above them, the cab’s interior light faded and then switched off altogether. Finding the darkness of the garage the perfect environment for honesty, Doubler prepared himself to speak. Midge sensed this and probed gently. ‘It can’t have been easy for her.’
‘No, I’m sure it wasn’t. But I swear to God I never made any pretences. I never promised her anything other than this, you know. Mirth Farm was never a whim.’
‘Did she ever love it here?’
‘Love?
That’s probably too strong a word. But maybe when she was a young mum, it wasn’t too hard on her. Plenty of space for the children to run around and near enough to the town for her to escape quite easily. The house is big, and it offered a healthy lifestyle with plenty of fresh air. And we never went hungry. We did rather well, actually, though perhaps by accident rather than by design. The money came in, better than for many who work the land, so I thought I was doing her proud. I actually believed I was giving her a lifestyle that may have been better than expected. She was always off shopping and I never complained – it gave her something to do. It took her mind off it.’
‘Off what?’
‘Well, off the potatoes, I suppose. The dreariness of it all. I think there was a tipping point when she realized that it didn’t really matter how successful we were, I was never going to be interested in the trappings and I couldn’t really afford to take holidays. She could – she took plenty – but you know, time-wise, leaving the farm was difficult for me. I’d started my research by then and I knew I was onto something big. I had a mission, but I immediately resigned myself to the fact it was going to be a long haul. Groundbreaking work doesn’t come overnight. Not in the potato field. You need the seasons to pass and you can’t hurry them: you can’t force nature to work at a pace more convenient to your wife.’
Doubler looked sad as the memories came flooding back. ‘I think I recall the straw that broke the camel’s back, so to speak.’
Midge continued to stare straight ahead, letting Doubler talk in his own time. ‘I remember when she said she’d had enough: enough of the winters, enough of the mud, enough of the potatoes. The kids were growing up and they didn’t need her quite as much, so she was feeling a bit low, I think. A bit like her life was going to flash by without any variation. And I agreed with her. I agreed so readily. I held her hand and said yes, we could move on. Yes, we could finish up here, but I was onto something important and I needed a little more time.’
Mr Doubler Begins Again Page 13
