The Shadow of the Sycamores by Doris Davidson Read Free Book Online Page B

getting on. Do you like it at Craigdownie?’
    ‘It’s not bad,’ Henry said, diplomatically, and gave them a brief description of the varied jobs he had to do. When his grandmother asked about the bothy, he didn’t tell her where he had slept for his first few months. And he only spoke briefly of the cramped quarters in the small stone building with the sod roof, the chaff mattress on the wooden board for a bed and the constant chatter that wouldn’t let him sleep for hours. ‘But Janet’s a good cook,’ he went on, not wanting them to feel sorry for him. ‘You should see the size of her porridge pot and the soup pot and all.’
    ‘How many does she feed?’ Isie wanted to know, thankful that she’d never had to cater for large numbers.
    ‘The married men go hame, of course, but there’s ten in the bothy, counting me and Harry the orra loon, Mr and Mrs Legge and Georgina, that’s their daughter, the cook, a kitchen-maid, a housemaid and … um … a dairymaid. That’s seventeen.’
    The pink tinge that had flushed his cheeks at the mention ofthe dairymaid made Isie say, ‘And have you got yoursel’ a lass yet?’
    His colour deepened further. ‘No, I’ve hardly spoken to any of them.’
    ‘Early days,’ she smiled, ‘you’re nae fourteen yet.’
    It seemed to him that the time was right to ask something that very occasionally bothered him. ‘Gramma, was it my fault my mother died?’
    ‘Na, na, bairn! It was your father’s fault. He was aye coming hame drunk, you see, and getting on top o’ her and putting another bairn inside her belly.’ She stopped, aghast at what she had said. ‘I’m sorry, lad, I shouldna speak like that in front o’ you but it’s the God’s honest truth.’
    Apart from realising that this statement corroborated Janet Emslie’s lesson in human biology, something struck Henry as odd. ‘But there’s just five o’ us, Gramma – that’s not a lot.’
    She shook her head mournfully. ‘Five living but there was a lot mair than that.’
    ‘How many were there altogether?’ Henry persisted.
    ‘There was thirteen. So you see, it was a lot.’
    ‘Thirteen?’ Both the young people gaped at that.
    ‘The rest died – some wi’ pneumonia when they was infants, some wi’ galloping consumption when they was toddlers and some died afore they was born, poor souls. They was a’ lassies and all.’
    The boy glanced meaningfully at his sister who muttered apologetically, ‘Henry thinks Father’s not his real father.’
    Isie bridled. ‘For ony sake, loon! What gave you that idea?’
    ‘I didna really believe it at first but now … Do you not think it’s queer that he had twelve lassies? It’s like he couldn’t make a son.’
    Isie nearly choked laughing. ‘The Lord preserve us! You think your mother took up wi’ anither man?’ she gasped. ‘There was nae other man, Henry. Willie Rae was mair than enough for her. If she hadna died an’ you hadna been a laddie, he’d likely have made a lot mair.’
    ‘But, Gramma, that’s terrible. I ken it’s what the man doesto the woman that makes the babies but how could any man make a woman have thirteen?’
    ‘Not all men are like your father, mind that Henry. If you keep your breeches buttoned, you’ll nae get in trouble and, once you’re wed, think on your mother afore you tak’ your pleasure wi’ your wife.’
    ‘I’ll remember that, Gramma, but why d’you think he’d to make thirteen afore he got me? It’s an awful lot.’
    ‘It was God’s will.’
    ‘Was it God’s will my mother died and all? He can’t be a very good God.’
    His grandmother heaved a long, shivery sigh. ‘Maybe God just took pity on my poor Bella …’
    Her abrupt stop, her hand on her chest, made both young people jump up in alarm.
    ‘Gramma!’ Henry cried, taking her free hand and massaging it. ‘What’s wrong? What is it? Tell me.’
    But Isie was past telling anybody anything.

    Henry slept with Abby that night again – or