by J M Hemmings
In his looks there remained a faint echo of the boy Paul had once been, but like the rest of his friends he had undergone substantial physical changes over the last few years. He and his identical twin Andrew now stood close to six foot in height, and although their legs remained somewhat disproportionate in strength and bulk to their upper bodies, their torsos and arms had filled out with lean, lithe muscle. While their features had looked rather pinched and severe as boys, both men’s faces had lost some of the angularity of their visages, and each now looked if not handsome, then at least not as stern. It was almost as if they had, perversely, aged in reverse; they had looked almost like old widowers as boys, but now it was as if a master sculptor had come along and smoothed out those sharp features, carved too hastily by an apprentice, and given their faces the boyishness they had always lacked.
Another oddity was that each twin seemed to have swapped a few habits with the other; Andrew’s formerly immaculate hair was now a shaggy, unkempt mop, while Paul, formerly the messy brother, spent a fair while in front of a mirror every day, making sure his long, pointy jaw was spotlessly shaven, and that not one hair on his head was out of place. Andrew, on the other hand, had grown a scraggly beard, and this at least made the twins easier to tell apart.
One feature, however, had remained constant; their large, doe-like brown eyes that most girls would have been jealous of, let alone swooned over, replete with prominent, thick eyelashes. Theirs were eyes that spoke of trustworthiness, warm friendliness and an unspoken, almost canine loyalty.
‘Yous didnae get it the last seven times, so what difference is one more time gonnae make, boyo?’ Michael asked, rolling his eyes.
‘Michael!’ Aurora interjected with mock indignation, her eyes afire with playful delight. ‘No speaking in charades, how many times must I say it? You’re breaking the rules again! We shall have to devise some sort of wicked punishment for you if you continue to speak!’
Michael groaned and covered his face with his hands, injecting as much melodrama into the gesture as he could, then crossed his arms across his chest and huffed with exasperation while everyone else laughed heartily.
‘All right, all right,’ the big man acquiesced, ‘one more—’
‘No speaking, Mikey!’ William shouted jovially. ‘You know the rules!’
Another bout of laughter ricocheted around the group, and after it subsided, Michael put on the most serious face he could manage. He craned his neck, turned his feet to face outwards and began waddling around in circles. Everyone immediately fell about laughing once again.
‘You’re a bear!’ Paul cried. ‘No, no, a wolf, right?’
‘He’s a deer! Aye, our boyo’s a deer, he is, hahaha!’ William yelled with a guffaw.
‘I’d say he’s a majestic elephant, or no, no, a lion, king of all beasts!’ Aurora declared with unabashed glee.
‘Perhaps a tiger from India,’ Andrew ventured cheerfully. ‘Or one ay them armoured rhinoceroses they’ve got there.’
Michael stopped his act and groaned.
‘I’m a duck, fir Pete’s sake! A duck! Are you all blind as wee moles or wha’?’
‘A duck? No!’ Aurora laughed, feigning surprise. ‘That’s the very last thing I would have guessed!’
‘You’re all horrid, awful people!’ Michael exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. ‘Tha’ there was the best duck impression any ay you has e’er seen, dunnae tell no fibs now! I’ll out-duck any duck on the pond, I’ll tell you tha’ much!’
‘Aye, you’d make a fine mallard, boyo!’ Paul said with a chortle. ‘A right handsome duck this Mikey would make, eh lads?’
‘What a fine idea!’ William exclaimed. ‘Although there is one wee problem, is there no’? A mallard’s head is green, but this lad’s head is as orange as a carrot! Andrew, Aurora, you two are the artists, run along an’ fetch your paints! Pauly an’ I’ll hold him down, an’ you twa can paint his head a lovely shade ay green! We’ll make a mallard out ay you yet, Michael!’
‘I shall fetch my paints at once!’ Aurora cried, leaping to her feet and giggling with glee. ‘What a splendid idea!’
‘You’ll have tae catch me first!’ Michael shouted, taking off at a sprint.
‘After him! Go!’ Paul whooped, springing to his feet to pursue Michael. ‘This is a duck hunt now! There’s the quarry, that big lumbering mallard bolting t’ward the old wall! Andrew, come on!’
‘Aye, I’ll get him, brother! You take the left, I’ll head right!’
Even the quiet, reserved Andrew was caught up in the happiness and exuberance of the moment, and he scrambled to his feet to join his brother’s pursuit of Michael, who was laughing with glee as he dashed across the expanse of green. William and Aurora laughed as they watched the twins running after Michael, whooping and shouting with joy as they went. From above, gentle warmth from the late afternoon sun drizzled down, the rays filtered through wispy cirrus clouds high in the sky, colouring the light in rich tones of amber, copper and gold.
‘It’s such a beautiful afternoon, is it no’, my love?’ William asked, slipping an arm around Aurora’s shoulder.
‘This light is incredible, William. I wish I’d had the foresight to bring a canvas and my paints. Oh that I could capture the beauty of this afternoon and preserve it forever!’
‘But Aurora,’ he said as she leaned her head on his shoulder, ‘if it was possible tae capture an’ hold the magnificence ay moments such as this, d’ye think tha’ we’d appreciate them as much? Perhaps the true splendour ay this moment is precisely in its fleeting passing. We must celebrate the beauty ay it, because it’s like a spring blossom, or a butterfly that lives fir but one day an’ then dies. That ephemeral nature makes it more valuable than a pillar ay pure gold, dae you no’ think, for truly, it’s something tha’ no amount ay riches, nor all ay the accumulated wealth in all the world could purchase. It’s granted tae us solely by God’s grace, or Nature’s, but either way, it is a blessing tha’ cannae be replicated. It’ll be gone in a few minutes, ne’er tae return. Indeed, we may ne’er again see an afternoon ay this rich beauty, so we must appreciate it while it is here, for perhaps it’ll be the last time.’
Aurora stared into William’s eyes and cupped a hand under his chin, stroking the stubble there.
‘My poet,’ she whispered, her voice all heart, all soul, ‘my soulful, beautiful poet.’
William took her hands in his and caressed her skin with gentle fingertips as he spoke.
‘All that lives must die, Aurora. All beauty an’ joy an’ splendour must fade an’ crumble tae ruin. This is the one truth I know for certain: tha’ time is sure tae put an end tae all things, from those great mountains that crown the far horizon over yonder, tae the stream wi’ all its fish an’ frogs down at the bottom ay the field. All will be dry, lifeless dust one day. All things will suffer this fate eventually … all but one, though … fir inside us is something tha’ lives on long after our bodies ha’ gone back tae the earth whence they came. I know it Aurora, I just know it. There’s something else in here.’
A light of understanding and inspiration sparkled in Aurora’s honey-coloured eyes.
‘Souls, William. Yes, our souls. The immortal essence of who we are, who we were, who we are to be in the future.’
‘The priests at church say we’ve got but one soul, an’ its eternal fate depends on what we dae in this one short lifetime we’re allotted. But, you know, that doesnae make much sense tae me. D’ye really think tha’ our souls merely occupy these temporary bodies for but one mortal lifespan, an’ then are consigned tae heaven, or hell, for all the rest ay eternity? Eternity is a frightful long time.’
‘There are many other beliefs,’ Aurora said, ‘about the souls and the afterlife besides that of what Christianity teaches. And some of those teachings say that our soul lives through countless mortal lives, occupying a new body in a different time again and again.’
‘So after we die, we’re reborn intae a new bo
dy, tae live a new life again? And tha’ keeps happening o’er an’ o’er again, then?’
‘That is what some religions say, yes.’
‘Well I dunnae about tha’, as much as I dunnae about what the church teaches about just having one single lifetime. But … there is one thing that I dae know, with sheer an’ utter certainty.’
Aurora smiled and planted a quick peck on William’s lips, causing a broad grin, infused with both shyness and affection, to spread across his face.
‘And what might that be, my poet?’
‘Tha’ my soul and yours are now forever bound, far beyond the confines ay time and mortality. I’m sure ay it, Aurora, in the deepest heart ay my immortal soul. Whate’er happens tae me in this life or the next, I’ll be wi’ you. I know this as surely as the sun rises in the east an’ sets in the west. It is a truth, m’lady, the one truth ay which I can be utterly certain.’
Aurora, aglow with affection, leaned in and kissed William with slow and languid pleasure. When she pulled away from their embrace, she smiled and brushed his cheek, and nuzzled his neck.
‘I know this too,’ she said softly. ‘We are forever bound, you and I. Forever bound.’
They lay for a while on the grass in one another’s arms, listening in silence to the shouts and cries of joy that echoed across the landscape as Andrew, Paul and Mike raced around the field. With their fingers intertwined, Aurora laid her head on William’s chest, listening to the gentle beating of his heart as he ran his fingers through her hair and caressed her face and neck. Together, in serene, wordless bliss, they watched the sun sinking behind the distant hills as the dusk settled in, breathing in the beauty of the first stars lighting their tentative fires against the deepening blue.
Paul, Andrew and Michael came jogging back as the embryonic night began to swell. They were all panting and sweating from racing around like madmen, but all three wore great, beaming smiles on their faces. As the men congregated around the lovers, Aurora gave William one last kiss before she got up and dusted herself off.
‘Gentlemen, darkness is beginning to fall,’ she said. ‘My parents will be back from their trip shortly, so I must take my leave of you and hurry back home. Michael, Paul and Andrew, I do sincerely hope that I may have the pleasure of your company again soon.’
‘The pleasure is all ours, m’lady,’ Michael said with a gentlemanly smile and a bow.
‘Aye,’ Paul added. ‘We rarely have the pleasure ay such wonderful company.’
‘Thank you again fir the sketching tips, Aurora,’ Andrew added with a shy smile. ‘They are most appreciated, an’ I’m very eager tae try them out.’
Aurora beamed a genial smile at all of them.
‘You are such wonderful people!’ she exclaimed. ‘My William does have such exquisite taste in friends!’
‘No’ friends,’ William interrupted as he too stood up. ‘Brothers, my dear. Tha’s what these fine lads are tae me: brothers.’
‘Will speaks the truth ay the matter,’ Paul added, brimming with quiet affection for his friends. ‘Aside frae my real brother by blood, I’ve no family in this world but these lads, an’ by Jove I’m thankful fir them.’
‘It is plain for all to see how strong your bonds are,’ Aurora remarked. ‘Truly, you four are brothers, and your closeness is quite admirable. Still, as much as I would love to continue enjoying your company, I must be off now. I will see you all again soon though, I trust?’
‘Aye, we hope tae see your lovely self again soon as well!’ Michael exclaimed. ‘Come on now Will, untether the horses, you need tae escort your fine lass home, post-haste!’
‘I’ll see you lads down at the pub later!’ William said cheerfully as he headed over to where the horses were grazing.
Aurora waved a last goodbye to the men as she followed behind him, and after they had mounted their horses both she and William trotted off into the falling night.
***
‘Ye’ve truly got yoursel’ a proper fine lass there Will,’ Paul commented as the four of them trudged along the cobbled country lane, walking home from a late evening at the pub.
Above the four men, in the moonless sky an abundant scattering of stars twinkled and glimmered, ten thousand pinholes punched through the cloak of night. Around them a soft breeze whistled, hissing its susurrus through the trees and leaves, and carrying on it a sweet smorgasbord of late summer scents; flowers, orchard blossoms and energised life. It was almost too dark to see, but they had all walked this road often enough over the years that they knew every bump and bend and could have done it with their eyes closed.
‘She’s a true gem, brother,’ Will said, the corners of his mouth curved up into a glowing smile that seemed to stick with stubborn persistence to his face. ‘The Father above was smilin’ down on me the day I met her. My life’s ne’er been the same.’
‘An’ none ay our lives ha’ been the same since we came tae Sir MacTaggart’s estate, eh lads?’ Paul said, throwing his right arm around William’s shoulder, and his left over Michael’s. ‘Three cheers fir the auld codger, bless his kind heart!’
The four men, rambunctious from both the alcohol flowing through their veins and the infectious glee sparking in the air around them like a whirling tornado of fireflies, shouted three boisterous ‘hurrahs’ into the chill of the Highland night. The sudden volume of their cries prompted a startled flock of birds to take flight from an oak tree nearby, and the men all jumped with fright … and then burst into a bout of laughter at their own antics.
‘Aye,’ Michael said after the laughter had died down. ‘Were it no’ fir Sir MacTaggart’s kindness, why, who knows where we’d be? Perhaps we’d all ay died from sooty cancer years ago, worked tae death in the flues ay London by tha’ horrid auld Mr Goode.’
‘Crikey, I’m thankful we escaped tha’ fate,’ Paul said. ‘Auld Goody-Goode was a right bastard, he was. I wonder what became ay him, though?’
‘It doesnae matter,’ William interjected, a darkness clouding his face. ‘Davy paid the ultimate price fir tha’ scum’s greed an’ cruelty. It was because ay poor Davy’s passing, suffocatin’ tae death in tha’ chimney, tha’ we four escaped tha’ life. I’ll tell you lads what, not a day goes by wherein I dunnae think ay poor wee Davy. He should ha’ been here wi’ us, he should ha’. You know, I sometimes dream about him, I dae. I dream about tha’ day, about goin’ up tha’ flue tae pull him out. Crikey, if only I’d been but a few seconds faster!’ He sighed and shook his head as he continued. ‘Lads, you dunnae know how much his death has haunted both my dreams an’ my wakin’ life. Regret, lads, regret is a ball an’ chain around your leg tha’ you cannae e’er break off, nor find the key fir. An’ poor wee Davy’s life – an’ the fact that I could ha’ saved him, but didnae – is a great iron weight, draggin’ forever behind me on a rusty chain. Tha’ metal is melded tae my very bones, lads, tae my very bones.’
Andrew, who had been silent while they had walked and talked, rested a sympathetic hand on William’s shoulder.
‘Will, boyo, you cannae blame yersel’ fir wha’ happened tae wee Davy,’ he said in his lilting voice. ‘We were all there, lad. We saw you go up tha’ flue; you went as fast as you could, hell, far faster than any ay us could ha’ ascended it. You did all tha’ was humanly possible. I remember you comin’ out ay tha’ fireplace, clear as day, as if it had happened but this very mornin’. Your elbows, knees an’ shoulders were dark an’ slick with freely flowin’ blood, an’ they didnae ha’ an inch ay skin left on ‘em. You were shakin’ like a leaf in a gale, an’ your wee chest was heavin’ up an’ down from exhaustion. Crikey man, you almost killed yoursel’ in your efforts tae try get poor Davy out. There’s no blame on your shoulders fir wha’ happened. No, Will, none whatsoe’er. The fault lies squarely on Goody-Goode’s shoulders, but I somehow doubt tha’ tha’ vile man has any trouble sleepin’ at night at all. An’ what’s more, Davy wasnae the first ay Goode’s chimney sweeps tae suffocate tae death in a flue. Tha’ m
onster treated all ay us like pack mules, he did. Worked us poor bastards tae death, an’ then when tha’ happened, he’d just go on over tae the parish house an’ buy a couple ay new orphans.’
‘My brother’s right, Will,’ Paul added. ‘There’s no blame tae be laid upon you. You did everything humanly possible tae save Davy. Everything. Sometimes bad things simply happen, an’ there’s nowt we can dae about it. Nowt at all but accept tha’ they’ve happened an’ try tae move on, an’ keep pushin’ forward against whate’er life happens tae throw at us.’
The four friends strolled along the lane in silence, listening to the alternating ebb and flow of the wind as it came on in waves, rustling and whispering and occasionally howling with sudden anger through the leaves of hedges, shrubs and trees.
‘What’s gonnae happen after this, lads?’ William asked after a while. ‘D’ye think we’ll stay on at Sir MacTaggart’s estate ‘til we’re auld an’ grey? Or d’ye think tha’ we’ll end up somewhere else, doing something completely different?’
‘I’m no’ sure, Will,’ Michael answered, his brow furrowed with uncertainty. ‘Fir a while now I’ve had an inkling tae, well, tae venture off an’ see the world. I mean, it’s right lovely up here in the Highlands, despite the bitter winters, an’ working fir Sir MacTaggart we’ve wanted fir nowt, fir he’s been an exceptionally kind an’ generous master, an’ has taught us many things … but, you know, as decent as life is fir us, I cannae help but wonder what the rest ay the great wide world looks like.’
‘Aye!’ Paul agreed, fired up with fresh enthusiasm. ‘Why, at the pub earlier, were we no’ all enthralled by the tales told by tha’ auld codger, what was his name, who had spent twelve years in the Cape Colony on the southern tip ay Africa?’
‘His tales ay the wilds an’ the kingdom ay the Zulus got me well excited!’ Michael exclaimed. ‘Crikey lads, imagine that! A vast wilderness, populated by uncountable scores ay wild beasts like lions, elephants, giraffes, rhinoceroses, hippopotamuses—’
