3 LOUISE
Fascinated as Douglas was by the novelty of this strange school, he could not have known just how fascinating he was to the older girls of Craigton Hall. On the day of his arrival, Louise Cummings sat at midday dinner beside her closest friend, Moira Deans. Five girls sat on each side of the long table and one at each end. All were around 16 and their lively banter mingled with the general chatter and laughter that always accompanied meals.
Today, however, Louise and Moira talked apart in low, conversational tones.
'I hear we have a new boy this term,' said Moira.
'Great!' Louise exclaimed. 'There's no talent in our class just now.'
'Wee Davie Shepherd?' queried Moira, ironically.
'Say no more. He thinks of nothing but football. Girls just don't exist as far
as
he's concerned!'
'That's what most of them think,' Moira muttered.
'Maybe Trawler is a bit different. I could fancy him, for his nice voice, but he's crazy about Danielle in senior 3.'
The two girls - young women as they would be called today - had been friends since they came together at the blind school around the age of five. Moira was tall and slim as a willow wand, with long locks of raven black hair, curled at the ends. There was a sheen in her clear complexion, set off by the firey red of her lips. The greenish tint of her eyes enchanted everyone who gazed into them, making them forget her sight was limited. Moira was quite correct in saying that most of the boys dismissed the girls, but some of the partials raved about her as the school beauty.
Louise, however, could hold her own and was by no means overlooked. Her blue eyes, sparkling in a dark complexion, betrayed nothing of her total blindness. Her hair, chestnut brown and curled in an African style, crowned a figure that was just blooming into perfection. True, its attractions were somewhat concealed by a thick school sweater, but her skirt fitted closely to a slim waist and fell over shapely hips, calves and ankles. There was much more to Louise than good looks. People were drawn by her witty sense of fun. It flickered in smiles around her mobile mouth, and often burst out in bubbly laughter.
These friends were like two perfectly formed fruits on one bough. Nothing like rivalry could exist between them. It was said that Moira was very good-looking and that Louise was sexy. Each rejoiced in the other's reputation as much as in her own.
'Would you chum me up to the dormie to get my Latin book, Louise?' Moira asked, seeming to change the subject abruptly, but adding under her breath, 'There's something I want to tell you.'
'Come on,' said Louise, rising to go.
When they reached their dormitory, which was laid out exactly like the boys', it was empty. This was usual after the dinner break, when the pupils hung about on the ground floor, waiting for afternoon school to begin.
'I couldn't tell you, with all the dining hall staff about. You know how their big ears are always flapping.'
'Yes, they always are. What's up?'
'Oh nothing's up. In fact, everything's great. Dick has asked me to meet him down by the shrubbery after tea. We'll have to be careful in case Riddell is prowling about, but it should be all right because he nearly always goes to tea with the staff after us.'
Jimmy Riddell was the school janitor, known as 'the beadle', and universally loathed by older pupils. He was notorious for spying on them, creeping about on soft soled shoes, his gimlet eyes boring into every nook and cranny.
'You're so lucky to have Dick, Moira. I wish I had somebody.'
'You could easily get somebody with that figure of yours,' returned Moira, regarding her friend with admiration.
'Oh, I'm not interested in that. I want a boy - you know, one I can really admire.'
'Well maybe this new boy will do for you. Let's go down to Latin and give him
the
once over.'
* * *
When Douglas entered Mr Lake's classroom after the game of football he went to sit on the back row, where five other boys were ranged. Taking his place at the end desk, which had been left vacant for him, he was comforted by the presence at his side of wee Davie Shepherd. The boys seemed to pay no attention to any of the six girls, who sat at three pairs of desks with their backs to them. The girls chatted among themselves about a variety of subjects. Scented soaps and hand-creams were contrasted and compared. Occasionally, a girl would ask another about the Latin exercises they were about to do. No boy did this.
Mr Lake entered.
'Do you have your Latin books?' he asked.
'Yes, sir,' chorused the class.
'I want you to learn the vocabulary on page 42 and I'll test you on it in
about
20 minutes.'
So saying, he made his way to the back.
'Barr?'
'Yes, sir.'
'I hear you can read Braille already.'
'Yes, sir, my home teacher taught me.'
'That's good. I'd like to hear you reading from this.'
He placed a large Braille book in front of Douglas, who opened it and read the title, Book of Escapes and Hurried Journeys .
'Read the first story from the beginning, would you?'
Douglas found the place and read slowly down the first page. As he did so, Mr Lake, who was also blind, placed his hands over Douglas's to check that he was reading with his fingers flat.
Douglas found the place and read slowly down the first page. As he did so, Mr Lake, who was also blind, placed his hands over Douglas's to check that he was reading with his fingers flat.
'That's right,' he said. 'Always keep them flat so that you read the letters with the pad of the finger. If you bend your fingers up you read with the tip and you can't cover the whole letter with the tip. And I'm glad you've been taught to read with two hands. The second half of the line should always be read with the index finger of the right hand, so that your left hand can drop to the beginning of the next line, ready to start without any break when the right has come to the end of the line above.'
When Douglas had read three pages, Mr Lake congratulated him on having made a good beginning. 'If you read an exciting book like this for an hour every evening your speed will increase,' he added.
'Did you have Latin at your sighted school?'
'No, sir, French and German.'
'We don't have modern languages here, but you'll soon catch up with the rest of the class in Latin. I'll take you separately. That means you'd better come and sit at the front. I'll get a desk put there for you.'
* * *
And that was how Douglas came to sit in front of Louise, at the head of the girls' block. From this close vantage point, she studied him carefully over the next few weeks. The voice was a real disappointment. The other girls thought so too. 'He talks through his nose in that Glasgow way,' laughed Valery Manners, who came from Inverness where people, it was said, spoke "the purest" English. 'He sounds like a rubber duck.'
But Louise was a little impressed in spite of herself. Quick witted as she was, she valued intelligence in boys. Douglas was always ready with answers in class. In fact, she thought he had a way with words. When he told you what was for dinner, he always said 'followed by' after each course, whereas other people just said 'and'. His general knowledge seemed vast by Craigton standards. He knew the meaning of 'anti-disestablishmentarianism'. People always said this was the longest word in the dictionary, but Douglas was the only person Louise had ever heard explaining its reference to disestablishment of the Church. And there again, Douglas could not only tell you what it meant to 'take the Chiltern Hundreds', he also knew why Members of Parliament retired in this peculiar way.
Louise began to find Douglas interesting, therefore - for the content rather than the sound of his speech. But she did not dwell on him. She secretly fancied Danny Dangerfield, in secondary 6, the class at the top of the school. Sadly, she thought, Danny was far beyond her reach and would give her little more than a passing thought. Even so, she liked to hang about places in the school where there was a chance of meeting and talking with him.
One of these was the avenue - 'the drive' as Craigton pupils called it. When the weather was fine after school, as it often was in early autumn, girls and boys would stroll up and down its length. The girls often walked in pairs, arm in arm, chatting and laughing, affecting utter indifference to the boys, in case Jimmy Riddle might be about. If the older boys should chance to be there, apparently by accident, Louise and Moira would greet them at the corner, beneath the tall rowans, where the underplanted shrubbery was most dense. With luck, Danny would be among them, whiling away the time until tea, after which he had to depart for the hostel.
Very soon Douglas also took to strolling on the drive, meeting his classmates, Dick, Andy or Ian Ross, who was known as Trawler. His thoughts dwelt increasingly on Louise, while hers ran mainly on Danny. To Douglas's ear, her voice was pure white like snow, and her laughter sparkled like a mountain stream. Strolling up and down, he would strain to catch the sound. When he did, he floated on air. Glasgow was drab, boring and far away. Craigton Hall was romantic. The rustle of trees and shrubs, the warm afternoon sunshine, the charming young women flitting about so gracefully - all filled him with delight. Was this love? he asked himself in surprise - and thought it must be.
One afternoon, shortly after his arrival, he was thrilled to find himself close to Louise and Moira. They were singing a catchy song of the day, for they loved singing together. Moira was a dulcet contralto, Louise a lyrical soprano. Douglas was very susceptible to music and felt as if the tree-lined avenue had become an enchanted grove.
As the two girls reached the bend, Dick Greenslade called out.
'Moira, Louise, come over here. Danny's here as well. Oh! And there's Douglas Barr. Come and join us, Douglas.'
They joined the boys under the trees. Dick immediately began to chat up Moira.
'What was that song you were singing?' he asked.
'Once I had a secret love,' said Moira, with a teasing smile.
Dick immediately took it up and began to dance about with Moira, steering her unintentionally, it seemed, behind a thick clump of holly.
Louise struck up a conversation about music with Danny, affecting complete indifference to the doings of her friend. Danny was one of the best pianists in the school, which boasted a lot of budding musicians. Douglas thought at first that he spoke to the young girl patronisingly, but Louise's charm worked and he was soon trying to impress her.
Louise responded with her sweetest smile and Douglas knew jealousy for the first time in his life. He wondered how he could draw Louise's attention from Danny to himself, but felt insignificant as the new boy in the company.
Help came unexpectedly from Moira. Appearing suddenly from the holly, as though tantalising Dick, she said, 'You know, Douglas, we're all very impressed with you. How long have you been blind?'
'Since March.'
'That's only six or seven months, yet you're already reading Braille and you get around as if you'd been blind all your life.'
'Yes,' added Louise, turning from Danny to butt in, 'and he's got off to a fast start with Latin. What a brain,' she added, with apparently sincere admiration.
Douglas was at a loss to answer this unexpected admiration from these sweet girls. Modestly he said, 'I'm not so sure about that. I've never done Latin before. It's hard learning all that grammar, even harder than German at my sighted school.'
'How much German do you know,' asked Danny, suspiciously, for it was his turn to feel a little jealous.
'Well, I can say "Ich liebe dich".' said Douglas, archly.
'Which means?" queried Louise.
'I love you,' said Douglas.
'Douglas, you've gone as red as a beetroot!' exclaimed Dick, and the others
laughed,
not unkindly.
'You'll get on faster here if you say it in plain Scots,' Louise teased.
'Still, German might come in handy if you weren't sure who was prowling about, like Riddell for instance,' Moira commented.
'I am prowling about,' said Riddell's harsh voice. He had arrived without warning on his rubber-soled shoes, walking up from the lodge at the gate.
Moira laughed and said quick-wittedly, 'Good evening, Mr Riddell. We are all very grateful that you patrol the grounds and keep them safe for us. After all, we can't tell what prowlers might be about, can we?'
Douglas thought he heard a tinge of sarcasm in Moira's tone. Riddell, however,
seemed to take no offence. Instead he sidled round to Moira, saying, 'And how is
your ladyship
this evening?'
'Get off, Mr Riddell!' she said, and her smile vanished.
'What were you doing in that shrubbery?' asked Riddell, his voice also changing to something like a growl. 'You watch yourself with that Dick. You're a lot safer with Uncle Jimmy, you know.'
Turning to Dick, he added, 'You watch it. If I catch you up to anything I'll have you straight up to the Major.'
'It's Douglas you have to watch, Mr Riddell,' said Danny, with a mischievous grin, 'He's just told Louise he loves her.'
'Have you now!' Riddell turned sharply from Moira to Douglas. 'Fancy the young ladies, do we? Well, you listen to me. Stay well away from them. Major Royle doesn't like it.'
An awkward silence descended. 'Now it's nearly tea time and I want the drive cleared, so get away up with you to the school,' said Riddell.
Louise and Moira linked arms and set off at a run, as though they couldn't get away from Riddell fast enough. Danny, who was going out for tea, made for the gate, while Dick and Douglas strolled moodily in the direction of the playground at the other side of the school.
'I don't like that Riddell,' said Douglas, as they climbed a flight of steps that linked the upper drive to the playground.
'Nobody does, especially Moira and me,' said Dick. 'He's a great long streak of misery. You should see his black hair, parted right down the middle, and his thin black moustache. He looks like Hitler, no kidding.'
'Is he right about Royle?' asked Douglas.
'Sure thing he's right. He hates boys and girls getting together.'
'But that's ridiculous. Where's the harm in having a girlfriend?'
'I don't see any harm in it either, but you mustn't be seen touching - holding hands, or putting your arm round them - you can get expelled for that. And you never know when the sex police are going to be about.'
'The sex police?'
'Aye, that's what we call Jimmy Riddell, Drurie the woodwork teacher, and Starchey. Their eyes are everywhere. Why do you think there's clear glass on all the classroom doors? If you're seen doing anything with a lassie, you're sent to the Major.'
'They're just like my mother, and I thought I could escape from her by coming here! I really want a girlfriend and she's dead against it. Still, I don't see why I should knuckle down to Royle. He sounds a right bully, and what harm would I be doing?'
'You be careful. Partials like us can usually keep out of Riddell's way. It's harder for totals. Even Moira and I have to be on our guard. You can't relax much.'
'I wish I had your problem,' said Douglas. How can I get a girl, Dick? How did
you
get Moira?'
'It's easy,' said Dick cheerfully. You start by chatting her up a bit. If she
likes you she'll hang around. So you have a bit of a laugh, sing the songs she
likes and try to get your arm
round her. If she seems to like that, you ask her to go with you. If she says
yes, you can go
on to winchin'.'
Douglas smiled. Intimate contact between the sexes was usually referred to in
those days as 'necking' or 'smooching' but at Craigton Hall the good old Scots
form of 'wenching'
was customary.
'Is that how you got Moira?'
'More or less. I hear you sit in front of Louise at Latin. That's your chance, isn't it?'
'How do you know I fancy Louise?' Douglas burst out.
'I saw your face get redder and redder when she chaffed you about that German ... What was it?' asked Dick, grinning broadly.
Douglas began to blush again.
'I would say you might have a chance there. There's a dance coming up at Halloween. You could ask her to go with you then.'
Douglas wanted to ask why Dick thought he might have a chance with Louise, but the bell for tea rang just as they reached the boys' entrance. The conversation was dropped and they hurried indoors.
* * *
In the next few weeks, Douglas began to put his friend's advice into practice. It was the custom at Craigton Hall to have a five-minute break between lessons, allowing the pupils time to change classrooms. This also allowed time for the exchange of a few words, especially if the next teacher arrived a little late.
Douglas used these breaks to make the most of his proximity to Louise in Mr Lake's Latin, English and Maths lessons. Still weak in the dead language, he would seek her advice on the first steps. She in turn began to consult him about the meaning of English words or the solution of algebra equations.
About the middle of October an event occurred that gave him a chance to know Louise better. Mr Lake went away for a week, to attend an international conference on the publication of educational books in Braille, a subject on which he was an expert. He left the pupils work to do by his return: an essay to write, a poem to learn by heart and some Latin grammar to get up.
Since very little homework was ever set, Douglas and Louise found these tasks easy enough to do out of school. Although lights had to be out in the dormitories by 9pm, they could go on reading Braille with their fingers under the bedclothes for as long as they pleased.
So the pupils used class time in Mr Lake's absence to chat and chaff with one another. The classes were not large and the pupils were well behaved. Left to themselves they presented no risk to the good order of the school. Major Royle would normally have made it his business to stroll along the corridor every now and then, glancing through the glass door panels to check for bad behaviour. If he saw anyone with their nose down, scrubbing the page of a Braille book, or idling when they should be working, he would throw open the door and bellow, 'Andy Noble, read with your fingers, do! You'll rub your nose away peering like that,' or 'Moira Deans, stop combing your hair. You should have attended to your toilette when you got up. You're not in your bedroom now!' In this way, fear kept the pupils in order, even in those classes where blind teachers could not observe misdemeanours. But on this occasion, the Major was also away at the conference and there was a relaxed, almost holiday atmosphere about the school.
During that week, Douglas and Louise talked freely together. She enthused about Radio Luxembourg and Pete Murray, her favourite presenter. 'I love his black velvet voice,' she sighed.
Douglas winced, the comparison with a rubber duck springing to mind. Unfortunately, he knew nothing about Radio Luxembourg, the first commercial broadcasting station that could be heard in Britain. Truth to tell, his parents were rather snobbish about popular culture. They put the wireless on for the news and discussion programmes like Any Questions. Adventure drama like Dick Barton was off limits, and Radio Luxembourg, with its quizzes and commercial jingles, was dismissed as GI entertainment.
Having scant knowledge of popular music, Douglas might have had little chance with Louise. She was keen on music of every kind, however. Having just passed grade six in piano, she was making rapid progress towards grade seven. Douglas's mother was a good if untutored pianist and had been delighted when Douglas began piano lessons at Craigton Hall. So he was able to talk to Louise about Ivor Novello's songs, which she and Mrs Barr both enjoyed playing. Arias from light opera were also popular in both households and they discovered that their parents had quite a few gramophone records in common.
Poetry was also a mutual interest. Mr Lake had asked each member of the class to memorise a poem from The Golden Treasury and repeat it to him on his return. Douglas and Louise turned the pages of the Braille edition together, looking for poems they liked. Douglas loved The Bard , by Thomas Gray, for its ringing defiance of tyranny. It was disappointing, he thought, that Bruce's Address to His Troops at Bannockburn had not been included in the famous anthology, but The Bard made him tingle almost as much:
"Helm, nor hauberk's twisted mail,
Nor e'en thy virtues, tyrant, shall avail
to save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!"
Louise chose Young Lochinvar :
"Oh young Lochinvar has come out of the west.
In all the wide country his steed was the best."
Douglas thought he heard a teasing smile in her voice when she read him these lines, but he hardly dared to hope.
* * *
By the end of that week, Douglas felt that they were getting on very well. She seemed to like talking to him, though she was very sweet to everybody and it was impossible to tell whether she thought him anyone special. Still, the Halloween dance was very close and Douglas was determined to try his fortune then.
'Faint heart never won fair lady,' he told himself.
There was always a buzz of excitement as a dance drew near. Some of the boys pretended they could not see what all the fuss was about. Those who had a secret love, girls or boys, felt their hearts beat quicker. Most felt that it was at least a rare opportunity to leave off thick sweaters and skirts, sports jackets and corduroys, and dress up in their finest 'home clothes'.
Days before the dance, girls could be seen in huddled groups, discussing dresses and perfumes with names like l'Amour or Midnight.
Moira and Louise dressed together in the dormitory in preparation for the dance.
'I love that taffeta you're wearing,' Moira said. 'It's a gorgeous red. You look stunning.' 'Let me feel your outfit, Moira.'
Her friend stood still while Louise delicately fingered the white satin blouse and straight black skirt clinging close to Moira's slim figure.
'Will you be looking for anyone special tonight?' asked Moira as the inspection proceeded. 'Danny perhaps?'
'No chance there, I'm afraid.'
'What about Douglas? You seem to be getting on with him in class.'
'Mmm,' said Louise, rather non-commitally, 'he's not too bad. I like him better than I did at first. Maybe I'll wait and see what happens.'
Such minimal encouragement would hardly have calmed Douglas's nerves that
evening, even if he could have heard it by, say, bugging the girls' dormitory. He
felt he really must know where he stood with Louise. He thought of her every
minute and every hour of every day. He just had to ask her to go with him. True,
he had no exact idea where her saying 'yes' would lead, but imagined that a world
of intense excitement and pleasure would open up for them, as in a
radio drama.
At 7pm on Halloween, Douglas entered the boy's playroom, already a sea of noisy conversation and laughter. It was brightly decorated with paper lanterns and a scratch band had come together to lead the fun. Dick played the piano. Andy Noble passed for a drummer by beating time with two drumsticks on a wooden chair, and Jack Byfield, who lived in the cubicle upstairs, played the accordion. Boys sat on benches along one side, girls along the other. Mr MacGregor, the history teacher, acted as 'master of ceremonies'.
The first dance was the St Bernard's Waltz. Nearly everyone knew its slow and
simple figures, so that the totals could participate without fear of bumping into
obstacles and
other dancers.
Douglas rose and pressed forward to the girls' side, hoping to hear Louise and invite her to dance. But in the noisy melee it proved impossible and he met up with Danielle from S3 instead. Douglas asked her to dance, thinking it would be rude not to. Douglas liked dancing but found that he and Danielle had little to say to one another. Each was thinking of a special person elsewhere in the throng.
Three more dances passed off like this and Douglas had still not found Louise. He could hear her laughter sometimes, but when he tried to use this clue to reach her, he found that someone else had beaten him. He began to worry that he might not dance with her that night. Dick and Andy being in the band, there was no partial he could ask to help him find her.
Near the interval, they had the traditional Halloween game, dookin' for apples. Great bowls of water with many apples floating in each were laid out on the floor and everyone had to kneel down and try to seize an apple with their teeth. The game always produced shrieks of laughter as water splashed over faces and heads bumped with others fishing in the same bowl. Douglas was ducking into his bowl with little success when he heard, close beside him, a laugh that made his heart leap.
'Hi there, Louise.'
'Hello, Douglas. Have you got your apple yet?'
'No, just a wet shirt.'
'Oh, Douglas. Let me help you.'
She plunged her hand among the floating fruit and drew out an apple, which she handed to him.
'Forbidden fruit?' said Douglas archly.
'Don't be cheeky,' she said, laughing.
'Louise,' Douglas began, a little breathlessly, 'I was wondering if I could have the next dance with you?'
'Sorry, Douglas, I'm booked up until the interval, but I could give you the first one after.'
Douglas imagined she sounded sympathetic and genuinely sorry that she could not grant his request sooner. So the bargain was sealed and Douglas waited as patiently as he could.
When the interval was called, they all trooped out to the dining room for cakes and pop. Douglas wanted to go and sit beside Louise, but everyone knew that this was forbidden. Boys and girls must sit apart at the tables where they took meals.
The joyous laughter of Louise and Moira floated across to him, above the general babble. What would he not give to be with them or just hear what they were laughing about. Still, if she would only agree to 'go with him' he could get to know her much better.
When they returned for the second half, Moira Deans came up to Douglas.
'Come on, Douglas,' she said brightly, 'Louise is waiting for you.'
She led him to her friend and Douglas took Louise's hand for the first time. He was enchanted by its creamy smoothness. Just holding it made his palm tingle. It was an even bigger thrill to put his arm round her waist to lead her into the dance. So far her voice alone had pulled at his heart strings. But now - oh, her touch! Her waist! He longed to complete the picture by touching her breasts, but that was a 'no-go area'. Instead he tried to draw her close, as couples danced in films, but Louise kept him at a modest distance, partly from shyness, partly because she knew that Jimmy Riddell would be spying on everyone from his post at the playroom door.
The dance was a slow foxtrot. Not too challenging for speed, Douglas thought with some relief. He had feared to seem clumsy by bumping into other dancers, or the benches and the people 'sitting out'. He need not have worried. Louise was a confident dancer and he could only marvel at her unerring sense of direction. She did not exactly take the lead, but helped him round the crowded room with subtle pressure of her hand on his shoulder. She still maintained her distance but, as they swung around in the chassez from time to time, she could not prevent her breasts brushing lightly against him.
In this way she became fixed in his mind as a celestial body, a veritable Venus de Milo. He longed for her - felt he could not do without her. 'Now or never,' he thought. He must ask her now. Surely she would not refuse.
The music slowed and the dancers came to a halt. The customary round of applause for the musicians broke out and Douglas seized the moment to whisper, 'Louise, will you go with me?'
There was a long pause, during which it seemed to Douglas that the whole world of the playroom, dancers, musicians, master of ceremonies, was fixed in suspended animation, like one of those still pictures from a movie.
At last her answer came in a quiet, cool voice.
'I'm afraid not.'
* * *
In bed that night, Douglas pondered the mystery of the female heart. Why had she given him the cold shoulder? She had obviously enjoyed talking with him. Maybe he had rushed things. Would she change her mind, given time? If she didn't, what would he do? There was no one else for him. Suddenly the world seemed to have shrunk into dreary ordinariness. Life from now on would be a drab round of schoolwork, football and stuff. Sighing, he turned over and began a restless sleep.
He might have formed a different view if the girls' bathroom had been bugged along with the dormitory. Louise and Moira were preparing for bed.
'I don't understand, Louise,' Moira was saying. 'You said you wanted a boy. I knew from Dick that Douglas is sweet on you and I fed Dick a lot of hints to pass on. Why on earth did you turn him down? What have you to lose?'
'Quite a lot actually, if Riddell or anyone catches us winchin'. That's what it means to "go" with somebody. You see them in the shrubbery sometimes for a cuddle and a kiss. I would only take that risk for someone really special. As I said, I quite like Douglas, better than when he first came here, but ...'
'But you're really carrying a torch for Danny.'
'Well, perhaps.'
'That's silly, Louise. You haven't a chance there.'
'I know that, Moira. It's just that I can't think about Douglas in that way while Danny's around. But you're right, I do need ...'
At this point the girls' supervisor entered.
'Come on you two. You're the last ones out of bed.'
The friends gathered their things together and within a few minutes were tucked up in the dormitory fast asleep.