Shoulder the Sky (Drumberley Book 3)

by D. E. Stevenson

  Rhoda made a bond with Duggie (he knew all about bonds, of course); there were certain things he must do and others that he must not and in return she showed him everything he wanted to see and answered all his questions. She gave him subjects to draw and criticised his efforts unmercifully; she allowed him to watch while she mixed her colours, cleaned her brushes and stretched her canvases. Presently Duggie took over some of the necessary duties of the studio and Rhoda found that he could be trusted to perform them conscientiously. One day she happened to remark that she must clean the windows and the next day Duggie arrived with a chamois leather and cleaned them. As a rule Rhoda preferred to be alone when she was painting but the presence of Duggie did not disturb her. He would sit in his own corner at a solid little table and draw for hours without making a sound and sometimes she forgot all about him.

  Duggie liked to be forgotten. He liked to watch Mrs. James at work, silent and absorbed. He liked it when Mr. James came in from the farm and they talked to each other as if he were not there. At first he could not understand what they were saying for they talked quite differently from the way in which they spoke to him. They talked more quickly and the talk went backwards and forwards as if they were throwing a ball. Duggie was bewildered at first, he was completely left behind. They laughed and he had no idea what amused them. But, being a sedulous little ape, he set his mind to it and soon he began to follow. He saw that they left things out; there was a lot left unsaid (things that they both understood without speech) and he saw that quite often they said the exact opposite of what they meant, not to mislead one another but just for fun. For instance one afternoon when Duggie and Mrs. James had been working away silently and companionably for some time, the door opened and Mr. James appeared.

  “Are you busy?” he asked.

  “Very busy. Go away, horrid man!” said Mrs. James in a cross voice.

  Of course Duggie expected Mr. James to retreat in disorder but not a bit of it. Mr. James laughed and came in and, sitting down in the old basket-chair which stood beside the fire, he lighted his pipe and Mrs. James abandoned her painting and sat upon the hearth-rug with her hands round her knees and said, “Go ahead, tell me all about it. Did you buy some lovely, great, big Cheviot tups?”

  How interesting it was, thought Duggie. Mr. and Mrs. James were far more interesting than people in books. Some day he would talk like that: quickly, missing things out, saying things he didn’t mean and throwing the ball of talk backwards and forwards.

  11

  QUITE A number of people in the district called upon Rhoda; they called either because they were fond of Mamie or because they were inquisitive. Mrs. Ogylvie Smith called for the first reason, Miss Heddle for the second. Both these ladies braved the daft road in large cars with disapproving chauffeurs, both found their quarry had gone out for a walk and both left cards. Lady Steele of Drumburly Tower and Mrs. Duncan of Crossraggle wrote to Rhoda and explained that they would have liked to call but they were very busy and the road was so bad. They hoped Rhoda would excuse calling and come to see them instead. Rhoda wrote back politely. She was glad all these people wanted to know her for, as has been said before, she was socially inclined. She would have to return the calls but there was no desperate hurry about it. In the meantime she was seeing a good deal of the Forresters, they were young and interesting and fortunately James liked them as much as she did. Sometimes the Forresters came to Sunday lunch at Boscath, bicycling over the daft road, and sometimes Rhoda dropped in to see Nan at teatime or if she happened to be shopping in Drumburly on a Saturday morning, and sometimes — but not too often — she took Nan a rabbit or a fowl or vegetables from Boscath garden.

  It was not mere chance which had brought Adam Forrester to Drumburly to be assistant to old Doctor Black. Adam had been in a big hospital on the outskirts of London and Nan had been assistant matron at a school nearby. They were both unhappy and lonely and they often talked of going back to Scotland and of making a home together. Henry Ogylvie Smith was the physician in charge at the hospital and one day he happened to mention that the doctor at Drumburly was getting old and was looking for an assistant. The salary was small but it would be enough for Adam and Nan to live on quietly and carefully. They could be together. They could have a home. Adam and Nan had never had a home before, their father had been in the Indian Army and their mother had died when Nan was born, so they had been handed round amongst their relations as if they had been parcels and somewhat inconvenient parcels at that. They had never had anybody except each other and they had never had enough of each other’s company.

  There was a little money which Adam had inherited from an old aunt, it was enough to buy a house in Drumburly High Street and to furnish it. Most people in their position have some little pieces of furniture, handed down from parents or other relatives, but Adam and Nan had not so much as a clock or a chair or a bookcase. Everything had to be bought and only the barest necessities were within their means.

  The house was tiny, it was a sort of doll’s-house. There was a green gate with a brass plate upon it which informed the world that Adam Forrester M.B., Ch.B. lived here. Three strides from the gate bought you to the door with a fanlight above it. The hall was scarcely more than a passage but the two front rooms were of reasonable size, on the left was the living room where the doctor and his sister took their ease, on the right was the consulting room where the doctor saw his patients. The kitchen was at the back and in addition there was a room which should have been the dining room but as Adam and Nan had no dining-room furniture they had their meals in the kitchen and Adam took the room as his. Here was his bed, a couple of chairs, a small dressing-table and a fitted cupboard in the wall. He had hung up some pictures which he valued for their artistic merit and some college groups which he valued for sentimental reasons. The floor was of stained oak so a couple of rugs were all that was needed to complete the furnishing scheme. The room had French windows opening onto the garden, which was enclosed by a beech hedge. Beyond the hedge was a lane following the bank of the river. The garden itself was very small indeed, it consisted of a plot of grass and a herbaceous border. But Adam enjoyed the garden — it was his very own and he had never owned a piece of ground before. Quite often he woke early and went out and listened to the voice of the river and the singing of the birds; sometimes, returning from a sick-room in the middle of the night or at dawn, he would linger in the garden and find peace before he went back to bed.

  Upstairs in the little house there were two small bedrooms and a bathroom. Nan had chosen the front bedroom which looked onto the street and as she lay in bed she could hear people passing quietly upon their lawful business (there was very little unlawful business in Drumburly). She could hear footsteps coming in the distance, passing the gate and going away. She could hear snatches of conversation, odd bits of talk which seemed strangely meaningless without their context. Sometimes the footsteps stopped at the gate and came up the path … which meant that poor Adam would have to get up and go out.

  Adam and Nan had been nomads and now they had a home. They talked interminably, for they had mutual tastes and had had divergent experiences; both of them were intelligent, broad-minded and humorous. The relationship between a brother and sister is peculiar in the sense that it is unique for it is the only one in which the two sexes can meet as equals on a purely personal basis. No brother thinks of his sister as a woman and few sisters can see their brothers as men. For this reason there can be real friendship between them. Nan took her friendship with Adam as a natural thing but Adam often thought about it. He knew that in some ways Nan was a better person than he was, she was a stronger character. Adam admired the way she stood up to trouble when trouble came her way. He had courage, he hoped, but he lacked the quality of fortitude, of sticking it out, which was a part of Nan’s make-up. Adam looked into the future and saw them growing old together. Nan would never marry because of that wretched love affair and he would never marry because no woman could suit him as well
as Nan.

  One evening James and Rhoda came to supper. They had been invited to come early and go to the pictures afterwards with their host and hostess, it had seemed an excellent plan. Nan had provided a very good supper and Adam produced a bottle of hock which had been given him by a grateful patient and which he had been saving for just such an occasion. The four young people were on intimate terms by this time and were very happy together.

  “Must we go to the pictures?” said Adam suddenly. “Isn’t it rather a waste when we’ve got agreeable guests?”

  “But that was the whole idea!” objected Nan who liked to see a plan carried through to its proper conclusion.

  “Well be late,” declared Adam. “The picture will have started and we shall never find who’s who or what’s what.”

  Nan chuckled. “Adam never knows who’s who or what’s what.”

  “I’ll sit beside him,” offered Rhoda. “I’ll hold his hand and tell him all about the story as it goes along. It will be lovely for Adam and awfully interesting for people sitting near us. There’s nothing so delightful as to hear the story of a film being unfolded by another member of the audience.”

  “But look here!” cried James. “Who’s going to hold my hand and tell me the story?”

  “Nan, of course,” said Rhoda.

  Eventually however nobody held anybody’s hand because by the time they had finished discussing the matter it was far too late to go and Nan accused Adam of deliberately prolonging the discussion to gain his ends. It was all great fun. They washed up the dishes together and settled down round the fire.

  Duggie would have enjoyed himself thoroughly if he could have been there for the ball went backwards and forwards merrily as they talked of this and that and capped one another’s stories. Rhoda told the story of how she and James had arrived at Boscath without any key and of James’s discovery of the Sleeping Beauty. Adam and Nan together told of their arrival at Drumburly and of their struggles to collect some furniture and to make the house fit to live in.

  “I’d never carpentered before,” said Adam ruefully. “We bought a cupboard for five bob at a sale. It was in ruins of course and the idea was that I should take it to pieces and put it together again. It was Nan’s idea, really. I was a bit doubtful about it from the start.”

  “You never saw such a mess as he made of it,” said Nan chuckling. “The cupboard was for my room and I couldn’t keep anything in it because the door wouldn’t open or, if by sheer brute strength I managed to force it open, it wouldn’t shut. We had to get Angus Lowther in the end.”

  “He sorted it, I suppose,” put in Rhoda.

  “He sorted it in about twenty minutes,” nodded Adam. “I tell you I never felt such a fool in my life but he was awfully decent about it and when he was going away he said, ‘Aye, I can mend your cupboard easy enough but it’s beyond me to mend your leg.’ It wasn’t until after he’d gone that I saw the point,” said Adam smiling broadly.

  “You know,” said Rhoda thoughtfully. “It shows a depth of perception and a delicacy of feeling …”

  “It shows kindness,” declared Nan.

  “People here are quite different from southerners,” said James. “They’re different physically as well as mentally. I suppose it’s the shape of their heads —”

  “Goodness!” cried Nan. “If you start Adam on that!”

  Adam was not to be put off by his sister’s interruption, he leant forward eagerly. “There isn’t much in phrenology,” he declared. “It’s a crude way of measuring intellectual capacity. We did some very simple mental testing at the hospital and found it a help in the treatment of patients — and, as a matter of fact, I’m doing a little here in Drumburly School. Mr. Greig is quite keen on it.”

  “You ask them questions, don’t you?” said Rhoda.

  “But how does that work?” enquired James. “I mean one person might happen to know the answer but that wouldn’t necessarily mean he was brighter than a person who didn’t.”

  “You’re confusing intellect and knowledge,” Adam explained. “The questions are designed to measure intellectual capacity and not to measure knowledge at all. They’re standardised so that you measure by what a child should be able to answer at a certain age. A boy of twelve years old might be only eight years old in mental capacity.”

  “What good does it do?” asked James.

  “It helps tremendously with backward children. Backwardness at school may not be a sign of intellectual inferiority; it may be from some other cause; it may be due to environment or to some complex which can be removed. Take Duggie for instance, Duggie was very difficult at school — not exactly backward but inattentive — but I discovered that his intellectual capacity was above normal.”

  “Well above normal!” exclaimed Rhoda impulsively.

  “What was the matter?” asked James.

  “His environment,” replied Adam. “He was unhappy at home. His mother was impatient with him, he was frustrated and misunderstood. Nothing Duggie could do was right — so he left off trying. Now that Rhoda has taken him in hand he’s a different creature.”

  Rhoda was delighted though not really surprised for she had noticed a difference in her protégé. “It isn’t my doing — not really,” Rhoda said. “It’s because he has found himself.”

  “You helped him to find himself,” declared Nan.

  “Well, that’s how it works,” said Adam who was anxious to continue talking about his theories. “And of course the method is the same when you’re dealing with older people. Quite a lot of grown-up people are facing the world with a twelve-year-old standard of intelligence.”

  “I wonder what mine is,” said Rhoda smiling. “But we haven’t time to go into that tonight.”

  “It’s quite early …” began Adam.

  But James stood up. “There’s the daft road between us and home,” said James. “I think we’d better get a move on.”

  12

  ONE MORNING Mrs. Ogylvie Smith rang up Mamie and invited her to tea and asked her to bring Rhoda with her. She explained that she had called on Rhoda but had not seen her and added that it would be much more sensible if Rhoda could come to tea instead of returning the call in a formal manner. She added that her son Henry would be at home so there would be somebody young for Rhoda to talk to and this would be all the more agreeable because she and Mamie could have a good chat. Mrs. Ogylvie Smith loved to get hold of Mamie and talk about old times and about people who had lived in the district long ago for Mamie was sympathetic and adaptable. Sometimes Mrs. Ogylvie Smith forgot that Mamie was twenty odd years younger than herself and talked to her as if she were a contemporary. Mamie accepted the invitation and sent a message to Boscath and at three o’clock Rhoda came over to Mureth and the two set out for Blackthorn House in Mamie’s car.

  “You had better tell me about them,” said Rhoda. “It’s better to know about people beforehand in case one says the wrong thing. Have they any skeletons in their cupboard?”

  “No,” replied Mamie smiling. “No, I don’t think they have a single bone in their cupboard. Mrs. Ogylvie Smith is Spanish, she was very beautiful when she was young. She used to go to dinner-parties wearing a mantilla of black lace. Some people thought it a pose but I’m sure it wasn’t. I think it seemed natural to her; certainly it was very becoming. Of course she’s lived here for years and years, ever since she was married, but she still speaks with a slight accent especially when she gets excited or very interested in what she’s saying. The odd thing is she really speaks better English than we do. I mean she seems to be able to find the right word.” Mamie sighed and added, “I never can. I mean even if I know the right word to use I can’t use it.”

  “Why?” asked Rhoda.

  “It seems so stuck up to use long words,” explained Mamie.

  Rhoda smiled. She said, “Well, go on about them.”

  “Mr. Ogylvie Smith is quite old, well over seventy, I should think. They’ve always lived at Blackthorn House ever
since I can remember. They’re devoted to one another and they have one son who’s a doctor and very clever indeed. He’s staying with them so you’ll see him.”

  “Married?” asked Rhoda.

  “No, not yet. The Ogylvie Smiths are rather sad about it, they would love grandchildren. They really are ideal grandparents, if you know what I mean?”

  Rhoda nodded. “Is it a farm?” she asked.

  “No, not a farm. It’s a lovely house. It was built by Mr. Ogylvie Smith’s grandfather. There’s a beautiful garden.”

  Mamie was looking forward to the tea-party; it would be very pleasant to introduce Rhoda to her old friends, Rhoda was something to be proud of. Today Rhoda was wearing a velvet-corduroy coat and skirt of soft dove-grey and the scarf which she had twisted round her neck matched her eyes exactly. She had brought a small hat with her and offered to put it on, if Mamie thought it more convenable, but Mamie assured her there was no need … and indeed Rhoda’s hair was so glorious, so golden and wavy and full of life that it would have been positively sinful to cover it.

  “Well, that’s all right,” said Rhoda, throwing the hat onto the back seat. “I hate hats, really, but I didn’t want to disgrace you by appearing improperly turned out. Is it a big party or just ourselves?”

  “The Steeles might be there. Perhaps Holly Douglas. You won’t mind meeting Holly, will you?”

  “On the contrary,” said Rhoda smiling. She could well afford to smile at the prospect of an encounter with her unsuccessful rival. “I shall be very pleased to meet Holly, she may not be quite so pleased to meet me, of course.”

  But neither Lady Steele nor her niece had been asked, it was quite an informal party, and after greeting her guests Mrs. Ogylvie Smith took Mamie by the hand and settling her firmly upon a large sofa sat down beside her for the promised talk. Rhoda was amused at this obvious manoeuvre. She looked at the young doctor who was standing beside her near the fireplace and saw that he also was amused.