A Song of Sixpence (33 page)

When I awoke it was cooler, the sun was beginning to go down and Nora was not beside me. I sprang up to find that she was below, and had actually made tea. She greeted me not, as one might expect, with reproaches or disdain but tenderly, and with a certain new, and to me puzzling, clinical interest. She kissed me cherishingly on the cheek, uttering words of commendation which I thought strange.

‘You're a doat of a lad, Laurie. Such a gorgeous day, and not a thing to reproach ourselves with.'

‘Did you have a sleep too?'

‘No, lad. I had another swim to cool off, then I put the kettle on, sat down and had a bit of a think to myself.'

‘About what, Nora?'

‘Ah,' she smiled. ‘I'll tell you some day.'

When we had drunk the tea, which I found most refreshing, we locked up the houseboat, rowed ashore and, having padlocked the dinghy, set off unhurriedly on the bikes for home. Nora rode very close to me, often putting a hand on my shoulder so that we could talk. Indeed we talked most of the way to Winton. I told her about the Ellison and she urged me to work hard for it. Other advice she gave me, warning me not to let Terence take advantage of me.

‘Terry's a good sort, there's not a bit of harm in him, but he'd wile the bird off the bush. As for Donohue, that fellow would skin his own grandmother.'

It was late when we reached Park Crescent. My lamp had gone out and we had walked our bicycles up the last part of the hill. I took Nora's from her and said I would put both machines in the cellar. As I stood in the darkness she gave me a quick hug and kiss.

‘Good night, dear Laurie. And bless you for being yourself.'

Then she ran up the stairs and was gone.

It was four o'clock on a hot Saturday afternoon in mid-July, and Mrs Tobin had brought a cup of tea to my room. Before going out she shook her head at me as I sat behind a pile of books at the wicker table I had rescued from Leo's junk rooms.

‘Education's a wonderful thing. But if I were you, I wouldn't keep at it that hard.'

‘But I have to, Annie,' I agonized. ‘Time's getting terribly short.'

‘Well.' She considered me. ‘Don't give yourself brain fever, like Mrs Finnegan's lad when he failed for the Post Office.'

I was too strung up to treat this as a joke. For more than two months I had been grinding steadily under Pin's direction, and had worked myself into a state of nerves. From those early appetizers, Hume Brown's
General History of Scotland
, and
The Border Wars
, I had progressed to more solid reading: Barron's
Scottish War of Independence
, Skene's
Celtic Scotland
, Gregory's
The Stuart Kings
, and was now absorbed in
The Thistle and the Rose.
Apart from my real objective, in which I scarcely dared to hope, I had become interested in the subject for its own sake. At night, my best reading time, I would find myself so caught up in such excitements as the feud between Rothesay and Albany, leading up to Rothesay's mysterious death at Falkland, that only the final guttering of my candle—an illumination surely in keeping with the fourteenth century—brought me to a halt. I now went to Pin four evenings a week, a truly heroic devotion, less on my part than on his. Often my thoughts went back to the days when I foolishly pretended to have a tutor. Now I had one: a patient, admirable teacher. His main concern centred on my lack of literary style, a defect which he constantly tried, by correction and advice but with slight success, to improve.

‘You write from the heart, Laurence.' He would shrug regretfully. ‘Not from the head. We'll have to leave it that way.'

I turned to Mrs Tobin's kindly offering. As I drank the tea, which had begun to get cold, my gaze returned, not for the first time that afternoon, to the postcard. It had come yesterday and now lay, too conspicuously, on the table beside my notes on the regencies of Murray and Lennox. Frowning, I took it up and, as if to deduce some meaning that had hitherto escaped me, read it through once again.

Meet me under the clock at Central Station 5 o'clock Saturday without fail. It will be very definitely to your advantage.

Terence

Of course, I would not go. I had made up my mind not to go. Time was too precious now to waste on futile meetings. Above all, had not Nora, my dear Nora, distinctly advised me to be wary of the elegant Terry? Yet that final sentence had an alluring ring.
Very definitely to your advantage
—soundlessly my lips formed the words. If, indeed, this should be a real opportunity, and my thoughts went back to my conversation with Terence in the kitchens of the Criterion when he had spoken of his influence at Blackrock, then how badly I should feel if I missed it. While I finished my tea I debated the problem first one way then the other. In the end, I jumped up, seized my cap, and set out for the Central Station.

When I arrived it was ten to five. This was a favourite meeting-place, and others were waiting beneath the big clock. I joined them. At five minutes past the hour, striking a note of unusual punctuality, Terence appeared, carrying a small Gladstone bag. He was not alone. Donohue was with him.

‘Good, man, you're there. And looking great.' Terence greeted me warmly. ‘I hope we haven't kept you.'

Donohue was smiling too, at least his contained, morose face was fixed into an expression of unusual affability, all the more surprising, since until now he had practically ignored me.

‘We can't talk here,' Terence said. ‘Let's go into the buffet.'

We went into the first-class buffet.

‘What'll you have?' Donohue asked, hospitably. ‘This is on me.'

Commendably turning the offer to my advantage I said I would have a ham sandwich and a glass of milk. They both had Guinness.

Terence waited until we had been served, then, having inquired of me solicitously if everything was all right, he took a pull at his stout and made the following announcement.

‘Now, man, you've often heard me say I wanted to clock you on the mile. Well, it's today we're going to do it.'

I ought not to have been surprised since the matter had indeed been brought up before more than once, in Terry's half-serious, half-jocular manner. But the suddenness of the proposal did take me aback.

‘Why today?' I asked warily.

‘We'll come to that all in good time,' he said, with an intimate, knowing look.

‘But I haven't been doing much serious running lately. I'm rather out of form.'

‘Ah, a fit young fellow like you is never out of form. Is he, Mart?'

‘Shouldn't be,' Donohue replied noncommittally. ‘From what I see, there's not an ounce of fat on him. Still, I'm not convinced he can stay.'

‘Don't worry. He'll stay all right.'

‘But has he the speed?' Donohue looked at me doubtingly. ‘He'll need that for a fast finish.'

‘I'll guarantee it,' Terry said emphatically. ‘Haven't I told you how he sprinted me practically level when he was a kid?'

Donohue waved away the argument.

‘That was years ago.'

‘Maybe so. But there's his two big wins with the Harriers this year and the year before. Laugh that off, D.'

‘Mm, yes,' said Donohue, as if half convinced. ‘Well, I suppose we may as well give him his chance.'

‘And a real chance it is.' Terence turned to me. ‘It's all fixed up, man. The togs are here for you. My own Rockcliff kit, if you please.' He tapped the Gladstone bag with his toe. ‘And I've arranged for us to try you out at the Harp ground.'

‘But why, Terry?' These preparations, the interest displayed in me, and the manner in which Donohue had been unwillingly won over were extremely flattering, yet I was not to be taken in by them.

‘Later, later, man. What's the use of going into it till we see what you can do?'

‘No,' I said determinedly. ‘I have to know how it'll affect me.'

‘Didn't I tell you on my card?' Terence exploded. ‘ It's definitely going to be a good thing for you. Provided you're all we think you are, which now I'm beginning to doubt.'

That note of scepticism decided me. I agreed to go. Actually, I saw no harm in the expedition. And now I did want to show them what I could do. Because I disliked him and resented his association with Nora, Donohue especially I wished to convince. We left the buffet and got into a taxi from the rank outside the station. Trust Terry, I thought comfortably, to do things in style. My cousin had again impressed himself upon me with his charm and self-sufficiency.

Our objective lay quite far out in an eastern suburb of the city. After a drive of some twenty minutes it was revealed as a football ground belonging to the Harp Juniors Club. The neighbourhood, dominated by two huge gasometers and the contiguous gasworks, was poor and stank, not unnaturally, of gas. I had never heard of the Harp Juniors, and their domain, surrounded by a rusty corrugated iron fence in the process of falling down, enclosed an extremely worn football pitch and a small wooden pavillion. Surrounding the pitch there was, however, a cinder running-track.

‘Here we are then,' Terence exclaimed enthusiastically, telling the taxi driver in an aside to wait. ‘You stop by the track, Mart, and I'll go with Laurence.'

We entered the pavilion, which was even less impressive than the ground. The floor-boards were bare and broken, a few old striped jerseys hung on pegs, dust was everywhere, also a strong odour of stale sweat, beer and urine.

The bag, when snapped open, revealed shorts, singlet and spiked running-shoes. Solicitously aided by Terence, who had constituted himself my valet, I began to change. Everything fitted well except the shoes which were too long, leaving an inch of soft leather beyond my toes. I pointed this out to Terence.

‘It's not a bad thing,' he said, with an expert's judiciousness. ‘It'll give you more spring.'

We went outside. Donohue was strolling up and down, with his hands in his pockets and an air of expectancy. He had lit up a sporty-looking cheroot.

‘There he is,' Terence exclaimed, pushing me forward. ‘And doesn't he look a runner, every inch of him.'

‘By God, he does. He has the height. And look at those legs.'

Donohue's tone, in which I sensed a grudging respect, was highly gratifying. Actually in this lightweight kit with the Rockcliff colours I felt that I should not disappoint them. I took a few preliminary paces.

‘That's right, limber up, man.'

‘Only don't weaken yourself,' Donohue said, momentarily choking over his cheroot.

‘Now, Laurie.' Terence, with a glance that seemed to repress D.'s enthusiasm, put one hand on my shoulder. In the other he held his watch. ‘Four times round this track is exactly one mile. Are you ready?'

‘Yes.'

‘Then get set.' He stood back, eyes on the watch. ‘Go!'

I made a good start and, doing my level best, went round the track four times. The sandwich I had just eaten troubled me somewhat on the final two circuits and Terry's shoes, while bending freely on the hard cinders, had less spring in them than he had promised. When I drew up, pale and panting, I felt dissatisfied with my performance. Apparently I was mistaken. Bent over the watch Terence gave a whoop of delight.

‘Well run, man. I knew you'd be right for us, and you are.'

Not a whit behind, Donohue slapped me heartily on the back. Still gasping, I flushed with pleasure.

‘What was my time?'

Terence put a finger to his lips.

‘Not a word about that at the moment. You'll see why. Now away and change. The water seems cut off in the pavillion but give yourself a good rub down, there's a towel in the bag.'

Ten minutes later we were in the taxi on our way back to the city. As we rolled along Terence turned to me in an extremely confidential way.

‘Now listen to me, man.' He spoke in a guarded tone, as though he feared the driver might overhear. ‘There's a sports meeting coming up the beginning of August at Berwick-on-Tweed. It's a small country affair and it's mostly no-account clod-hoppers who enter for it. But,' he eyed me keenly, ‘ there's a lot of betting goes on and Martin, as you know, is in just that line of business. Our idea is to enter you for the mile. We've studied the local form and from what you've shown us today we're convinced you can do it.'

‘Win?' I exclaimed.

‘The cup.' Seriously, he inclined his head, adding even more impressively, ‘And win a packet as well. We'll take care of the money angle. Martin'll handle the bets. And you'll be ten quid to the good.'

‘Ten pounds!' It was more than tempting—a dazzling amount. ‘But, Terry, I'm taking my examination the first week in August. On the seventh.'

‘The sports are on the fifth. Two whole days before. It's no more than a three-hour run from Winton and we'll get you there and back the same day. What's your worry?'

I bit my lip in agonized-indecision. I wanted to win that cup, and I particularly wanted the ten pounds. My mother, in a recent letter, mentioning the flat she would take on her return, had bitterly regretted having sold our furniture when we left Ardfillan. Ten pounds would buy furniture, might even furnish a whole room. But how would Pin regard such an expedition, practically on the eve of the Ellison?

‘Why, it'll do you the world of good to have a bit of a break before your exam.' Donohue must have read my thoughts. ‘Of course, if you want to throw good money away I've another fellow in mind who'd jump at the chance.'

The thought of being supplanted was too much for me.

‘I'll do it.'

‘Good, man.' Terence shook my hand in congratulation. ‘You'll find you won't regret it. All you have to do is keep your mind easy and do a little light running of an evening. Don't over-train. And if you look in at the back of the hotel occasionally I'll see you get a few good steaks.'