The upsurge in business, at a time when his other mill in Rosewell was not working to full capacity and had to struggle to find orders, was noted by Adalbert Henderson, who woke on fair day also determined not to waste his time on festivities. He intended to take advantage of everybody being away to go to Maddiston and scan David’s books in order to find out exactly how the fortunate upturn in business had been achieved.
If he asked Coleman about it, the manager was fair to David and sang his praises unreservedly, happily unaware that he was putting another nail in his own coffin, but he could not really explain the despatching system to Henderson’s satisfaction and canny David kept his secrets to himself, for he did not want it to be poached for Rosewell too.
Imagine Adalbert’s surprise when he walked into the counting-house and found his chief clerk there.
‘Hey, hey, what’s this? A young lad like you would be fairing, I thought!’ he exclaimed as he stood with his hand on the jamb of the door.
David looked up and rubbed his stinging eyes wearily. ‘No, Mr Henderson. I don’t like fairs. They’re just a waste of money if you ask me. I thought I’d take the chance to check on the orders when there’s no distraction.’
Adalbert was a crafty and suspicious man, so for a moment he wondered if this lad was up to some fishy business of his own. His eye immediately went to the safe but it was locked and he knew that Coleman kept the key. Assuming a pleased expression he walked to David’s desk and leaned over his shoulder. ‘I’m glad I found you here, young Benjamin. You can show me how you’ve tightened up the procedures in this place.’
David smiled, a rare thing these days. ‘It’s quite simple really. I found out that orders sometimes lay in the counting-house waiting to be carried out for days at a time. The clerk we had in charge then was very dilatory. So I took his work over and Mr Coleman gave him his notice…’
Henderson clapped his shoulder. ‘Well done, well done. Hurry them up, eh? Put the fear of God into them; Lazy buggers.’
Encouraged by his employer’s interest, David decided to explain his bright idea more fully. Turning back the papers before him, he said in explanation, ‘I worked out this system, you see. When the order forms go down from the counting-house, they are stuck on a big spike by the door. Each man has a number and he takes the form with his number on it. When he’s packed the order, he stamps the front of the form and puts it in a box by the exit. The spiked order goes to the carriage department that I’ve set up in the big shed by the gate. It has to be stamped on the back when the order is put in our cart for going out. Then it’s driven to the station and the carter returns another form when he returns to the mill. The forms end up with me again after that and I can trace the progress of any order from this office, through to the station, even to the train it goes out on. If it’s delayed, I know who to blame.’
When he got all that off his chest, David leaned back in his high stool and looked up at his employer whose eyes displayed respect that one so young could have such a grasp of the essentials of business.
‘By jings,’ he exclaimed, ‘you’re a smart one, aren’t you? But that system wouldn’t work unless there was somebody like you checking it, would it? I’m impressed. I think you should forget about work for one day. Come on, I’ll take you to the fair and buy you a drink.’
David shook his head. ‘I don’t drink, Mr Henderson. I think it causes a great deal of hardship for poor people.’
Adalbert liked his grog, however, and did not go along with teetotalism. ‘Oh, come off your high horse. Your father was a navvy, wasn’t he? They drink plenty. If you and I are to get along together, you’ll have to take a glass of something with me even if it’s only ginger wine. Get your jacket and we’ll go to the Red Lion. There’ll be a big crowd there now. None of your temperance friends’ll see you in the crush.’
David obediently got his jacket. He wasn’t going to jeopardise his chance of a good relationship with Henderson for the sake of his anti-drink principles. He could take a stand on things like that later when he was in a position of power.
As they walked up the rutted road from the mill that was built on the riverbank to the town’s square where the clamorous stalls and sideshows were set up, Mr Henderson greeted acquaintances with a wave of the hand and a shouted invitation to join him in the Lion. He acquired a following of hopeful drinkers but it was to David that he spoke. This priggish young man with the pale face and impressive brain intrigued him.
He was holding David’s arm as they pushed their way into a crowd of people filling the saloon bar of the Red Lion Hotel, which faced the cobbled square. The noise was deafening and the smell of spilled beer sickening (at least to David) but he had no alternative other than to go with Henderson, who shouted to the barman, ‘Get the drinks up, man. Ask them what they want. It’s on me.’
David’s function was to run to and from the mahogany-topped bar and have Mr Henderson’s glass filled and refilled. Whenever his employer downed a glassful, David was expected to do the same and he knew Henderson’s eye was on him. After his fifth glass of beer he began to feel very strange. The smoke-filled air of the bar seemed to be lit up with thousands of sparkly lights, people’s faces swam in and out of focus as he spoke to them but what they said did not make sense, though single words reverberated in his brain. His legs felt feeble but that did not stop him thinking he was as strong as an ox, capable of taking on the world. It was while he was thinking this that he fell backwards and hit his head on the edge of the table. David passed out cold.
Mr Henderson regarded the collapsed body of his counting-house clerk dispassionately. ‘That’s what he gets for not drinking. If he took a glass every day, he’d carry it better,’ he said and indicated that another of his acolytes should help David to the door.
Fresh air did the trick. David found himself sitting with his back against the hotel wall while a stranger gazed down at him, ‘All right, young fellow?’ this man asked.
Shamefaced, David struggled to his feet and attempted to brush down his trouser legs. ‘Of course. I’m fine,’ he lied and wished that by some miracle he could be lifted out of the square and deposited in his own bed a quarter of a mile away, for he did not think he had the strength to walk there.
His good Samaritan was walking away and saying, ‘All right then, if you’re fine, I’ll go back inside.’
Left alone, David reeled through the press of people standing around the stalls, bumping into several, who drew away from him in distaste. His head was throbbing and his mouth felt sandpaper-dry. He put a hand on one of the wooden stalls and leaned heavily on it trying to recover his equilibrium. Then he felt a hand on his arm and a voice saying in his ear, ‘It’s David, isn’t it? Are you sick? You’re awfully white.’
He looked up and saw his sister’s schoolfriend, Kitty Scott, dressed up as a bondager with her bright hair flowing down her back, standing beside him.
‘I’m perfectly all right,’ he slurred and she laughed, obviously not believing him.
‘Where are you going?’ she asked sympathetically. She was not puritanical about people who had too much to drink but she had not expected to find Marie’s strait-laced brother in such a state and her reservations about him softened. He must be human after all.
He shook his head. ‘I don’t know. I think I’ll go home.’
‘To Camptounfoot? You’ll never make it,’ she said.
‘Not to Camptounfoot, to the mill. I live in lodgings at the mill.’ The world was whirling around him and he wished he could lean on her, for she looked as strong as a young tree.
She took his arm firmly and said, ‘Anyway you cannae stay here like this. You’ll get your pocket picked. I’ll take you back. Just tell me where to go.’
Turning her head she called to a group of girls behind her, ‘I’m taking this laddie home. I’ll meet you later.’
One of them screeched back, ‘That’s what you say! He’s a good-looking lad. We’ll no’ see you again the day.’
>
Kitty laughed back, ‘We’re not all like you, Effie.’ Then she tugged at David’s arm and said, ‘Come on, let me help you. Where’s this place that you live?’
He went without a murmur, staggering slightly and letting her lead him. As they walked, she talked, asking him about Marie and saying, ‘She seems to be enjoying herself in Edinburgh. I doubt we’ve lost her in Camptounfoot. I miss her a lot.’
At this David gave a strangled gasp and words came pouring from him, the words that had been going round and round in his lonely, bitter mind. ‘You miss her! What about me? I’m her brother. I love her. She’s all I’ve got and I’m all she’s got, but she’s taken up with strangers… They’ll drop her but she needn’t think she can come crawling back to me… She can starve for all I care. She’s my sister! There was only her and me after our mother went away. I remember her telling me to look after Marie… But she doesn’t care, she doesn’t want to come and live with me and I’ve worked so hard…’
Kitty had to steel herself against dropping his arm when he launched into this tirade. There was something in his words that chilled her, that made her remember the terrible story about Big Lily and Craigie Scott.
‘You can’t stop her making friends. She’ll probably meet somebody in Edinburgh and get married one day,’ she suggested but that was very far from being the right thing to say.
David stepped in the middle of the road and shouted at her, ‘Don’t you realise that’s what I’m worried about?’
Kitty opened her mouth to protest, ‘But—’
He interrupted her with another shout. ‘But nothing. I promised I’d take care of her. I told her that. Why should she want to go to Edinburgh in the first place? It’s that interfering Lady Godolphin’s fault. People like her should stay in their big houses and mind their own business and not interfere in other folk’s lives. They only cause trouble. I ought to write to her and to those friends of Marie’s in Edinburgh and tell them to leave her alone.’
Kitty was perturbed by his state of agitation, for he had gone from the stage of being staggering but quietly drunk to what looked like dangerous fury. His fists were balled as if he might strike her. She stepped away from him and said, ‘You mustn’t write letters to Marie’s friends. That’s not fair. She’s happy. Let her be. I’ve lost her too, but I’m glad she’s happy.’
He threw himself away from her. ‘Go away. You’re a fool like all the rest. What’s happy? A fool’s paradise, that’s what it is. All the happy people are fooling themselves.’
Kitty sighed. ‘Oh come on,’ she said, taking his arm again. ‘I’ll walk you home. You’ll forget all about this tomorrow.’
‘I will not forget. I’ll never forget. Go away and let me be. I don’t want your company. You’re a ragamuffin, always have been. Your father killed my mother… You must be after something but you won’t get it from me. Go away.’
She dropped his arm as if it were red-hot and turned abruptly round to march away from him. She did not look back and he did not call after her but went on reeling down the road muttering imprecations to himself.
Effie was surprised to see her back so soon. ‘That didnae take long,’ she said.
‘He was drunk’ said Kitty shortly.
‘Drunk and incapable,’ giggled Effie. Her friend did not reply but linked her arm into one of the other girl’s and said, ‘What will we do now?’
‘I’m off wi’ my lad,’ said Effie. ‘We dinna get a lot of time on oor ain… What are you lassies going to do?’
‘I’ve got to find myself a place. Nobody’s spoken to me yet though,’ said Kitty mournfully as the remembrance of why she’d come to the fair came back to her mind.
May piped up, ‘MacPhee was looking for you a minute ago. She had a man with her and he was looking for a good lassie. If you run back into the square you’ll maybe see them.’
Kitty found MacPhee standing by one of the candy stalls with a fresh-faced young man and his pretty wife. She waved when she saw Kitty and called out, ‘Here, lass, this is Henry Goodson and he’s wanting a bondager because his wife’s having a bairn. I said you’d do.’
Kitty looked carefully at the man. He was clean and decent and was holding his wife’s hand as if he really cared for her. They were a very respectable pair.
MacPhee whispered in her ear, ‘I can vouch for them. They’re good folk. You couldnae find a better place.’
The bargain was made. Kitty undertook to go to work for the Goodsons at the May term in a farm five miles beyond Duns. It seemed half a world away to her but she was told that a cart would be sent to collect her.
Henry paid her a shilling in token of their bargain and she gave him her word that she would turn up on the appointed day. Then they went into the Corn Exchange hall and she signed a paper confirming that this was what would happen. It was a good bargain. She was to be kept in the Goodson’s house and be paid five shillings a week. At last her luck seemed to have turned.
After the formalities were concluded Kitty took off her hat and went in search of her friends, May and another young bondager Emily, who lived with Rosie at Falconwood.
There was no lack of things to do at the fair for girls with a few coins in their pockets. Kitty had Henry Goodson’s shilling as well as the florin Tibbie had given her to go to the dance but which had never been spent. Tied in the corner of her petticoat she also had Tim Maquire’s half-sovereign and the precious knife was tucked down inside her boot. She never left her treasures in the farm cottage for fear they would be stolen.
The first attraction for the girls were the travelling hucksters who displayed their wares out on sheets spread over the cobbles and they wandered around examining the goods for sale.
Kitty was beginning to enjoy herself, for she was long accustomed to thrusting her worries and annoyances to the back of her mind and taking best advantage of the passing moment. David’s outburst was almost forgotten. He’d shown he didn’t like her but then he never had so she’d lost nothing, only gained an unsettling insight into his mind and the relationship between him and his sister.
Behind the stalls were a line of sideshows and a big roundabout on which children and three drunken youths from Falconwood were riding. They shouted to the girls, ‘Come on, have a ride, haw haw, haw… Come on carrot top, have a ride wi’ us.’
The other two girls were inclined to linger but Kitty walked away on her own and found herself in front of a table on which was perched a large brass birdcage containing a sleek black bird with a bright orange beak. It eyed her speculatively and chuckled to itself as if at a private joke.
Kitty had always been fascinated by Tibbie’s parrot, which lived in a similar, though smaller, cage, so she lingered by this bird till its owner, a tall, rangy-looking woman with a tanned, mannish face and high cheekbones like a Red Indian asked her, ‘D’ye want to feed him, dearie?’
‘What does he eat?’ asked Kitty.
The woman pointed to a small tray behind the cage on which lay tiny cubes of apple. ‘He likes that,’ she said. ‘Only a penny a piece.’
‘But a whole apple doesnae even cost a farthing!’ protested Kitty, child of a village where apples were so plentiful in autumn that they couldn’t be given away.
The woman smiled. ‘But this apple’s special. When he eats it, he’ll tell your fortune.’
Kitty was still young enough to be capable of belief. She looked from the imposing woman to the strange bird that was unlike any she’d ever seen before. ‘How does he do that?’ she asked.
The woman lowered her voice and leaned nearer. ‘This is an Indian bird, my dear. It belonged to a great prince out there and it’s called a mynah. It has special powers. Not only can it talk but it can see into the future as well. Give me a penny and I’ll give you a bit of apple. When he’s eaten it, he’ll tell you something that’ll be of great importance to you. I can tell that you’re at a watershed in your life and you need advice.’
This was a line that always impressed youn
g girls and Kitty fell for it. She handed over a penny and took a square of green apple between finger and thumb. ‘He won’t bite, will he?’ she asked, gesturing at the cage from which the bird was watching her with its head cocked to one side and its eyes glistening.
‘Bite? He’s as gentle as an angel,’ protested the bird’s owner. ‘Just put the apple on the edge there and then tell him your name. He’ll do the rest.’
Kitty did as she was told and when the mynah hopped across to pick up her offering she said to it, ‘I’m called Kitty Scott.’
It looked up at her, winked and said quite clearly, ‘Beware of men!’
Kitty stepped back, astonished. ‘It spoke! It said, “Beware of men”,’ she exclaimed.
Her two friends had caught up with her by this time and they clutched each other in astonishment. ‘That’s Liddle!’ they exclaimed.
Kitty could think of several other candidates for the caution but nodded in agreement. ‘Aye, so it could be. That’s a wonderful bird you’ve got there, missus,’ she said.
‘It is and it cost me a king’s ransom. There’s not another bird as wise as this one in the whole of the Queen’s realm,’ intoned the bird’s owner solemnly. Seeing that the girls were ready to believe her, she went on, ‘He can give you a more detailed fortune if you like… a better guide to the future.’
‘How?’ asked Kitty, who was thoroughly hooked.
‘He picks out one of these bits of paper,’ the woman held out a sheaf of tightly folded notes, ‘and gives it to you. Can you read?’
Wild Heritage Page 23
