8 JACK WILSON
Next morning, Major Royle finished prayers a little earlier than usual. He made a few routine announcements and dismissed the assembled school, adding, 'Douglas Barr wait outside my office.'
Douglas's heart sank. Such an order usually meant trouble for the person concerned. Did anyone see us last night, he wondered, as he left the assembly hall, his stomach looping the loop? He had felt quite sure there was no one about.
When Major Royle pounded up to his office door he said, 'Come in, Douglas,' rather pleasantly. Douglas felt a surge of relief - perhaps it wasn't trouble after all.
'I've had a letter from your parents regarding your friend Jack Wilson,' said
the
Major, pausing.
'Yes, sir,' said Douglas, cautiously.
'It tells me he has recently concluded his training in Her Majesty's Forces.'
'So I believe, sir.'
'And it is his great fortune to have been posted to the British Army of
Occupation of
the Rhine.'
'I didn't know that.'
'Your parents write that Private Wilson would like to see you for a weekend before he goes abroad. They say he can get leave next weekend. It is rather short notice for us, but in the circumstances I have agreed.'
'I appreciate that, sir.'
'I believe you go hiking together.'
'We did, sir. Before I had my accident. Then Jack went off to the army. He's a bit older than me.'
'Well, we seem to be having a spell of fine weather for the time of year, so you should have a very pleasant weekend. I'll arrange for one of the staff to take you to Waverley station after school. Your parents will be expecting you off the first train, and your brother will meet you at Queen Street.'
When Douglas told Louise about this development she was a little put out. There were few enough opportunities for them to come together in the school at weekends, because all the classrooms were locked. But she hated the idea of missing even a fleeting word with him.
His mother on the other hand was very pleased to see him that evening. She liked to have her family circle completed by Douglas's homecoming. After tea, she lingered at the table, talking with her two boys, while their father read his newspaper by the fire.
'And how are you getting on at school this term, Douglas?' she asked.
'I'll probably be top of the class again this year.'
'What a big head,' laughed Alistair.
'I'm not big headed. These blind kids are quite a long way behind the work I was doing at Oaklands and the school makes us spend so much time on games and handwork that progress on the academic side is very slow.'
'I'm very sorry to hear that,' said Mrs Barr. 'You know I wanted you to stay on at Oaklands. I even went to see your headmaster about it. I can hear his answer now. "Mrs Barr," he said, looking very sympathetic mind you, "how could I possibly provide teaching for a blind boy? Even if I knew where to begin, you know this school is bulging at the walls with all the extra pupils from the new council estate. Your Douglas would just get left more and more behind." I had to accept that, son, and let the blind school have you. But you'll take the Highers won't you?'
'Well, Lowers next year and Highers two years after that. I'll be about 20 by then.'
'Do you still want to go to university and be a lawyer?'
'That's my plan - another six years.'
'And what do they say about that at Craigton Hall?'
'Major Royle says no blind person has ever done that in Scotland and it
will
be impossible.'
'And what do you think?'
'I don't see why it should be. I've read that it's quite common for blind people in England to be lawyers.'
'Well, if anybody can do it you can, Douglas,' said Peggy Barr, emphatically.
'I mean to have a go. They seem to think here in Scotland that we should stick to physiotherapy or home teaching. Major Royle is reluctant to encourage any of us to think of university. It hardly ever leads anywhere, he says. One of our former pupils, Martin Muncaster, took a first in philosophy, but he never got a job as a lecturer or teacher. He's only a shorthand-typist now. And there's Alec Ranger on the school switchboard. That's the man who greets you in reception. He's a Mus Bac - Bachelor of Music - of Edinburgh University, but what good did that do him?'
Peggy had little idea what 'a first in philosophy' might be, but she was right behind her son. 'Well, Douglas, I think you should just stick in for now and do your very best. If you do that, I'm sure doors will open for you.'
At this point there was a knock at their own door. Alistair jumped up from the table and ran to answer it.
'It's Jack,' said Douglas, hearing his friend's voice in the hallway.
A tall, slim young soldier in khaki jerkin and tartan trews entered the sitting room.
'Hello, Douglas,' said Jack advancing to squeeze his friend's hand
warmly.
'What gives?'
'Not much, Jack.'
'We'll have to do something about that then. I came round to see if you'd like
to go for a scramble up the Crag tomorrow. The weather's been great for the time
of year and we could
take sandwiches.'
'Great idea, Jack.'
'That's fine, then. I'm going out now for the evening. See you at 10am tomorrow. Keeping well Mrs Barr?'
Peggy beamed at Jack. She thought him very handsome with that black wavy hair, and just a wee touch of swagger, but there was something else. He was the only lad who had kept in close contact with Douglas since the accident.
'Yes, right-o, Jack. I'll see the sandwiches are ready for 10am tomorrow. Don't bother to bring any. I'll make enough for two.'
* * *
Next day broke sunny and cold. Jack called for Douglas as promised and the friends caught a bus to Barrhead. From there they walked up a steep road towards the foot of the high summit of the Ferenese Braes, known locally as the Crag.
'It's a smashing day, Douglas,' said Jack. 'You should see the sky. It's duck-egg blue, streaked with very thin white clouds, that look like feathers.'
'Where are we making for exactly, Jack?' Douglas asked. 'I thought we'd leave the road up here. There's a path takes you right into the heart of the woods before we start climbing. We could go to the top and get down to the moors and the lochan on the other side. I've got your mother's Thermos flask in my rucksack, so we can have a cup of tea.
The friends walked smartly up the steep road. Douglas loved stepping out on deserted country roads, where there was no need to hold anyone's arm. He could walk by Jack's side, guided only by the sound of his friend's footsteps and voice.
When they reached the woodland track, Jack took the lead and Douglas fell in behind, following the crunch of Jack's boots over dry leaves and dead bracken. Here and there he stumbled on an outcrop of rock.
Jack suddenly said, 'Wait here a minute, Douglas.' He threw down his rucksack and dashed among the trees. Then Douglas heard him climbing one. There came the sounds of a branch being snapped off and trimmed by vigorous strokes of Jack's knife.
'Here, Douglas,' said Jack, returning with a strong staff. 'That'll help you keep your balance over the rough ground.'
Now the slope of the Crag began to rise steeply in front of them. Large outcrops of rock reared up like miniature precipices. When they came to these minor cliffs, Jack went first, taking the staff, then Douglas scrambled up, feeling the way with his hands.
'You're like a mountain goat, Douglas,' said Jack, laughing, as his friend pulled himself on to a grassy ledge and paused for a breather about halfway to the summit. Douglas stood as if gazing over the scene that the sounds conjured up in his mind. In the distance he could hear the thrum of a solitary motor car, making for the Ayrshire coast. Nearer, there were sounds of domestic life - a barking dog, someone sawing wood. Immediately below were the trees through which they had walked, leaves rustling in the wind, as if whispering secrets. At times like this, Douglas could feel that blindness was no real loss. With health and energy, and good friends like Jack, anything was possible.
Jack suggested they sit down for a bit.
'How are you getting on with that broad at school?' he asked abruptly. Douglas knew that Jack liked to show off his knowledge of American slang, but thought this was going too far.
'She's not a broad, Jack Wilson. She's a very nice girl.'
'Yes, sure, but have you had it yet?'
'Don't be crazy. I haven't known her that long. In any case how could I think of that? I'm just 17 and it'll be years before I can think of marrying anybody.'
'Who's talking about marriage?' Jack laughed.
Jack enjoyed playing the man of the world. Though not quite two years older, he had been out with a few girls in his time and Douglas liked to hear of his experiences.
'Nice girls have the worst of it,' said Jack. 'You should see their letters to the agony aunts when their boyfriends get fresh.' He assumed a virginal voice, pouting through pursed lips:
'Dear Aunt Evelyn,
'My boyfriend keeps asking me to sleep with him. He says we need to know whether we are suited for each other before we marry. What should I do? Signed "Blue Eyes".'
Jack replied for the agony aunt as if he had a large plum in his mouth:
'Dear "Blue Eyes",
'It is never a good idea to anticipate marriage. A boy will not respect you if you give him all he wants without a wedding ring. Nice boys are willing to wait.'
'I'm sure that's what Louise thinks,' said Douglas, laughing at his
friend's
comical manner.
'But it's not what most girls really want,' said Jack. 'They want it just as much as we do.'
'That may be, but they know they have to hold the baby.'
'Suffering catfish, Douglas Barr! Where have you been! Sex and children don't have to go together.'
'You mean French letters and that?'
'Of course. They're only half-a-crown - two and sixpence - for three and every barber sells them.'
Douglas considered this in a purely Platonic light. It would be difficult to ask for 'a packet of three' in the barber's shop up the back road behind the school. What if Jimmy Riddell were sitting waiting for a haircut and he didn't know he was there? What if the barber were a secret agent for Major Royle? Anyway, getting them wasn't the only problem.
'I can see in a way that they're easy enough to buy, but I couldn't imagine how I'd ask Louise to let me use them.'
'You don't need to ask. They hope you have them. When you get to the stage where she can't wait any longer you just put the johnny on and in you go.'
'Look, Douglas,' Jack added, 'sex isn't just for people like Errol Flynn, you know. We're a' Jock Tamson's bairns. I've never been out with any lass that didn't know what I took her out for. When I see her home after a dance, I assume she wants a wee session round the back. If she doesn't want it she'll say she has to go in or her mother will come out. If she doesn't say something like that then I go on touching her up and you don't have to do that for long before they want to go all the way.'
Jack was speaking earnestly now, as though giving Douglas a Dutch uncle lecture the other way round.
'It's not fair to do it without a contraceptive, Douglas. If you don't pull out they get a baby, or a month of worry at least. And if you do pull out they get mad because you've had the fun and they've missed it.'
'But should you let it go that far? Surely you should wait to do that with a girl you're going to marry?'
'Why should a girl have to marry me because of that? I might get on like a house on fire with a girl for weeks and then she might meet somebody she likes better. Is she - or I, for that matter - to think we're handcuffed together for life because we've been with each other? Look, Douglas, there are basically three kinds of girls. There's the one that wants to wait for it and doesn't like it very much when she gets it. There's the one that wants it, but doesn't like you to think she does. Nice girls don't plan and all that. They think it'll only happen to them with a boy who really loves them and he'll marry them if they get in the family way. In my experience there's not many of the first kind, not when you've known them for a while. The second kind are the majority. I don't go out with hard-line virgins and I save the others from themselves by always carrying the right equipment.
'But just every now and then,' Jack continued, 'you meet one of the third kind, who wants a good time and doesn't pretend anything else. She makes sure I've got the things before we get to her front gate. She checks your ticket before you get on the train, as you might say. That's the kind of lassie I respect.'
'I see what you mean, Jack. I'll think about it,' said Douglas, mentally contrasting the Major's bombastic style with Jack's 'no-nonsense' approach.
Well rested, the friends pushed on quickly to the summit of the Crag and stood admiring the view. 'It looks fantastic down there, Douglas. I can see the lochan shining like a mirror, with the Crag reflected in it. There's that other one farther away, with the wee island in the middle. You remember we once swam out to it. The island looks like a miniature Loch Ness monster.'
Douglas laughed, for he saw it too in his mind's eye, conjured up by his
friend's exuberance.
'Let's go down the far side,' said Jack. 'The rocks are a bit more interesting that way and we'll have worked up a good appetite for the spam sandwiches.'
They started down by a narrow track that soon became a ledge. Douglas held on to the rock above his head and moved down by sidesteps, following Jack's voice and directions. He felt no fear, but not because a blind man has no sense of height. In fact he could hear pebbles go bouncing and rattling to the bottom of the gully as he dislodged them with his feet. In addition he could hear the echo of Jack's instructions from the rocks around. In the distance he could just hear the waves whipping against the shingly shore of the lochan. The friends felt that the Crag was a majestic Highland peak and they were two intrepid mountaineers.
Perhaps Douglas's concentration lapsed at this point, for his foot slipped suddenly. Jack lunged sideways and caught him by his sleeve as he dropped over the edge, but lost his own footing. They went rolling down a rocky slope into the gully, and came to rest about 10 feet below in rough scrub, which probably saved them from really serious damage.
Jack got up gingerly and looked round for Douglas.
'Suffering catfish! What have you done?!' he gasped, seeing his friend's face
twisted
in pain.
'I think I've broken my ankle. I can't stand up on it.'
Jack looked at the skewed angle of the limb. 'Oh God! I think you have.'
* * *
It was the following Saturday when Louise heard in detail about Douglas's accident. She went to the duty room on the girls' floor and found Miss Richardson there. She was one of the most unpopular housemothers. The girls called her 'Pooh Bah' because she seemed to take a delight in getting them into trouble if they showed any interest in boys.
'There's a letter for you, Louise Cummings,' said Pooh Bah, in the tone of a policeman referring to incriminating evidence. 'I expect it's from that boyfriend of yours.'
Louise took the rolled up Braille letter and thanked her with a smile. 'You may well smile,' said Pooh Bah, in a withering tone. 'School romances never last, you know, and they usually end in tears. Anyway, it won't be my responsibility much longer. You're going up to the hostel next term.'
'Am I,' said Louise, delighted, restraining an urge to hug the dragon.
'Yes, you'll go straight there when you come back from the Christmas holidays.'
Louise went to the dormitory feeling as if she were gliding six inches above the floor. Sitting by her bed, she tore through the wrapper that encircled the tight roll of thick Braille paper. It sprang half open, like a partly unclenched fist, reluctant to give up what it held.
Louise smoothed them flat on her lap and began to read.
'Dearest Louise,
'What rotten bad luck. I was up on the Braes with Jack Wilson last Saturday
and we fell off a ledge on the Crag. I am all right, really, but I've broken my
ankle. It's a straightforward fracture, they say, and I have to stay at home for
the rest of this term. It should have healed by the end of the Christmas
holidays. I'm so disappointed! Just as we were getting on so
well together.
'And I'll miss the Christmas pantomime. I was so looking forward to hearing you play the piano for it.
'What an idiot I feel. My mother is going crazy, as if she'll never let me out
of her sight again. Jack got a rocket too, but it was really just one of those
things. A bit of loose stuff on the narrow ledge we were traversing. Jack was
terrific. He ran to the nearest house and asked them to telephone for an
ambulance. It came in about 10 minutes. The ambulance men said Jack was mad to
take a blind boy up there. You'd think we'd been up Ben Nevis the way everybody
is carrying on. The Crag is hardly more than a hill. Unfortunately, the rocks are
just as hard as
Ben Nevis.
'Darling, I hate the idea of so many weeks of separation from you. Keep your love warm for me and I'll do the same.
'Your ever-loving Douglas.'
Louise cried quietly over her letter. She had already heard that Douglas had had an accident of some kind, but did not know how serious it had been. She comforted herself with the thought that it could have been much worse and settled down to wait as patiently as she could for their reunion.
Meanwhile, she took the first opportunity of writing to Douglas with the good news of her elevation to the hostel:
'No more skulking in classrooms for us, Douglas dear. You can walk me to the Blackfords, where there's no sex patrol to catch us.'
At the start of the holiday she wrote again to tell him about the Christmas show.
'We practically stopped all school work for two weeks. Everybody had to sit around in the boys' playroom waiting their turn to rehearse. This became boring at times, so one afternoon I went to the piano and started playing Christmas carols. Everybody joined in and we got four-part harmony going. You know how bare the playroom is, and it echoed like a church with all our voices raised together.
'When we finished Silent Night there was a hush of appreciation and then Mr Hughieson said it was wonderful and asked if we would sing carols like that as an interlude in the panto.
'The whole thing came off brilliantly on the night. Marion, who had been in a terrible fluster at rehearsals, put on a show-stopper as Widow Twankie, singing Two Young, with Dick Greenslade as the Wicked Uncle. We sang the carols at the interval. I played and the singers, hidden in the wings, sounded like a heavenly choir. As the strains of Silent Night died away, the curtain opened to reveal Aladdin trapped in the cave.
'Afterwards all the parents were raving about it and saying it was the best Christmas show ever.
'I must rush to finish now, as I still haven't unpacked my things since arriving home. I wanted to write to you before doing anything else. One good thing - it won't be very long till we're back together at Craigie. Take care, my darling.
'Love, Louise.'