11 REVELATIONS
On that afternoon, when Douglas was combing south Edinburgh, Louise practised at the piano in the dining room of the girls' hostel. She was preparing Bach's first prelude and fugue for her forthcoming exam. As she practised, she mused on her recent life at Craigton Hall, and the music seemed like the story of her emotional life with Douglas. The notes of the rippling prelude flowed through her like an underground stream, beginning quietly, rising to an impassioned crescendo, dying back to tranquility.
After a pause she began the fugue. The subject entered, a little shy, but jaunty, like Douglas himself. The counter-subject responded, as if her own voice answered. The incredible intricacy of the fugue, subject and answer, like dancing partners, now approaching, now separating, filled her with wonder at the genius of Bach. How could a man of the 18th century know so much about their lives in this one?
The fugue flowed on, complex as basketwork, an intricate pattern that had to be counted out methodically and repeated until it lived at the fingers' ends. It was living now, flowing through her muscles and nerves, so that she and her instrument seemed like one body.
The telephone rang somewhere in the ordinary world. A moment later, the dining room door was opened by the hostel maid.
'Telephone for you, Louise.'
She ceased playing abruptly and made for the phone, trying to conceal from the maid the elation of spirit which arose, partly from the music, partly from the sure and certain conviction that Douglas had been successful in his quest.
'I have them, Louise!' His voice sounded triumphant. 'When can we meet?'
'Tonight,' she replied immediately. 'Usual place and time.'
* * *
The street was bathed in evening sunshine as Louise stepped out of the girls' hostel, clicked smartly down the garden path on her high heels and swung open the squeaky gate. Douglas was standing there, too impatient to wait for her at the corner.
'Hello my love,' he said. She smiled a greeting. Linking arms they walked along the road, past the handsome houses, past the sale room that displayed expensive cars, along the narrow stretch of pavement where you had to be very careful of lamp-posts, and so to the back road, where Saturday evening traffic was already flowing fast into Edinburgh.
'Shall I see you over this busy road?' asked a passer-by.
They beamed as if he had offered to take them to paradise. On the other side they seemed to float on air, past the churchyard, past the proud Victorian villas, to the boys' hostel, almost at the end of the street.
Swinging into the gravel drive, like a pair of chariot horses straining for the finish, they gained the cover of the miniature grove. There was the green wooden door at last! When Douglas turned the key on the inside they fell into each other's arms.
'Oh, my love,' he whispered, 'we've waited so long for this.'
'Not much longer now,' murmured Louise.
They undressed without the faintest trace of shyness and Douglas led her to the mats by the fireplace. They lay down together and were soon afloat in the prelude of love. When Louise could wait no longer, she drew Douglas on to her and spread herself, inviting him in. He entered slowly, like a swimmer hesitating before the plunge. But Louise gathered herself like a cresting wave and drew him deep inside.
The tempo quickened. Subject and answer flew together in the counterpoint of love. Crescendo was followed by diminuendo, then crescendo again. At last the climax came and they soared together to the heights. Wave upon wave broke through Louise until a falling cadence stilled her soul.
Douglas lay tranquil on her breast, his passion spent.
'My love, my dearest love,' he whispered.
Before she could answer, there was a loud bang on the connecting door.
'Come on, open up. We know you're in there.'
It was Jimmy Riddell's voice. Then Major Royle's imperious tones chimed in: 'Barr, unfasten this door immediately.'
They froze.
'What should we do?' whispered Douglas.
'Get dressed before anything else.'
They dressed hurriedly, while the banging on the door continued.
'Wait a minute,' called Douglas, which at least put a stop to the din.
When Louise said she was ready, they stood undecided for a moment. Douglas thought of letting Louise out by the green wooden door, staying to face the music himself, but he realised immediately that the garden exit would be watched.
'We're trapped,' he said, dejectedly.
'Best open the door for them,' said Louise, feeling calmer now in her clothes.
He crossed to the connecting door and unlatched it.
Riddell grabbed his arm and, putting his face very close to Douglas's, snarled, 'Was this what you were in the chemist's for?'
Douglas made no answer.
'I want to see you, Barr, in my office on Monday morning, immediately after prayers,' said Major Royle. 'As for this shameless hussy, take her back to the girls' hostel, Miss St John. Miss Starkey will deal with you on Monday,' he added, as the hostel matron led Louise out through the garage.
* * *
Monday came and Douglas was duly on the carpet. His palms were sweating and his stomach seemed in free fall. As he waited, he turned over in his mind what he could possibly say. He decided that silence would be the best policy. Attempts at self-justification would only fall on deaf ears.
Major Royle remained standing throughout the brief interview that followed. He seemed to tower over Douglas and pierce him with angry words, like St George slaying the dragon with his lance. Douglas could not suppress a wry smile. All the dragons were upstairs at that very moment, devouring Louise. It was too late to save the virgin now.
Major Royle was exceptionally dry and, for once, terse. Mr Riddell had noticed
Barr entering the 'surgical supplies' and was disgusted to discover the nature of
his errand. He had listened on the switchboard to the telephone call that Barr
had made that afternoon. From the corner of the street, he and Mr Riddell had
watched as Barr and Cummings strolled, with cool impertinence, into the hostel
grounds, where the presence of girls was strictly prohibited. He was not
concerned with any details of what had taken place in the potting shed. It was a
matter for their own consciences if intimacy had occurred. What did concern him,
however, was the way their conduct had threatened the good name of the school. An
impurity had been introduced into Craigton Hall when Barr came, like paraffin
into milk. There was only one thing to do with polluted milk - get rid of it.
They would both be expelled as soon as their parents could
be summoned.
'Expelled!' The dreaded word fell like the guillotine and the consequences seemed to flash before Douglas's mind with awesome clarity. The parents shamed. Ambition thwarted. A lifetime of basket making in the blind asylum. And, oh god! The anger of his mother. Why had he ever believed that romantic stuff? How foolish to think he could defy the Major's power.
Douglas left the head's office as a beaten man, joining the class for the rest of the Latin lesson. Mr Lake greeted him with a dry 'Good morning' as he entered. Louise's seat at the desk behind must be empty. He felt sure she would have reached out to touch him had she been there. What mental torture were the dragons inflicting on her, he wondered?
Concentration on Latin grammar proved impossible. The double period dragged on to the 'quarter', as the morning break was called. At last the bell rang and Mr Lake told them to put away their books and Braille writing boards. He left the classroom without another word and everybody gathered round Douglas.
There were gasps of horror when he uttered the one word that everybody
dreaded, 'Expelled'.
'That's ridiculous,' wee Davie Shepherd expostulated.
'It shouldn't be allowed,' said Marion. 'Somebody should speak up in
your
defence, Douglas.'
At that moment Louise entered.
'Is Douglas here?' she asked brightly.
'Yes, Louise.'
'Come with me, dear. We're to see Major Royle together.'
Douglas tried to imagine what new excoriations were in store for them as he walked at her side. Ironically, this was the first time they had walked openly along the corridor together. At any time previously, such conduct would have scandalised the staff. In defeat, thought Douglas, they could at least proceed hand in hand with their heads held high.
He noticed that Louise was whistling softly, as she often did when
concentrating all
her powers.
'Don't worry, Douglas,' she whispered, as they approached Major Royle's office. 'It's going to be all right.'
They entered. The Major was seated and spoke from the other side of his great desk.
'Miss Starkey and Miss Richardson are here, Louise,' he began. 'They have told me what you said to them. Do I have your explicit assurance that what you said is true?'
'Yes, sir. I have a witness.'
'Who is that?'
'Moira Deans, sir.'
'Then tell me, in your own words, what happened.'
'Well, sir, Moira and I were lying awake in the sick room one evening when Mr Riddell came in. We were very surprised. None of the male members of staff had ever entered the sick room unaccompanied by the nurse. He came over to my bed and ...'
'Yes, go on.'
'Well, sir, he opened my pyjama jacket and ... hem ... felt me, sir.'
'Was that all he did?'
'He tried to push his hand down my trousers, sir, but I kept pushing him away.'
'What happened then?'
'The beadle - sorry, sir, Mr Riddell - said: "You're no use" and went over
to
Moira's bed.'
'And what did he do to Moira?'
'I think you should ask her, sir.'
'I will, but I wish to hear your version of events.'
'He pulled down the bedclothes and lay on top of her. But she didn't let him have what he wanted. I heard him say, "Open your legs, damn you!"'
'When did this happen?'
'The year before Douglas came to school. It was the time when the senior girls were taken to see The Gondoliers. Moira and I couldn't go because we were recovering from flu.'
'I've checked the sick-room log, Major, and the dates coincide with their story,' said Miss Richardson.
'Why did you not report this at the time, to Miss Richardson or some other supervisor?'
'Mr Riddell said we wouldn't be believed and would be punished for trying to get him into trouble.'
'Did he leave you alone after that?'
'Well, not exactly, sir. He was always grabbing us in the corridor and ... pawing about, if you know what I mean. He does it to all the bigger girls in the school.'
'That will be all, Louise, you may go now.'
'And what will happen about Douglas and me, sir?' asked Louise, with a bold directness that astonished Douglas.
'I'll think that over and tell you tomorrow.'
* * *
It was longer than that before Major Royle completed his deliberations. He interviewed Moira, who corroborated Louise's testimony. He then saw Riddell, who confessed and was dismissed on the spot. But he was less decisive with Douglas and Louise. He could not conceal from himself that he was truly checkmated. His authority would be seriously undermined if he did not deal with them severely. On the other hand he dreaded the exposure of the Riddell affair in the press, which would follow if either of them took matters further, as they very well might.
In this state of doubt he decided to phone me in Glasgow. As Douglas's home
teacher, he thought I was in a good position to advise, so he invited me over for
lunch and a
confidential chat.
After lunch we sat in the Major's sunny office. Nothing there had changed since I had last seen it, perhaps three years before. The handsome print of Man in Armour still adorned the room. The dog lay asleep in his basket, contentedly snoring.
Major Royle, I thought, looked weary. His shoulders drooped and his ashen colour was perhaps the first sign of the terminal illness that was to bring his life to a premature end, only one year after these events.
'This is a bad business, Sanderson,' he said, after telling me of the affair. 'To be honest, I am uncertain what to do for the best.'
It was the first time I had ever heard him confess to indecision.
'There isn't much you can do,' I said. 'If you expel them, one or other of the
families - perhaps both - will complain to Bath Street, and you will have an
inquiry - a scandal - on
your hands.'
'And if I let them off, my authority is undermined.'
'You could turn a blind eye - masterly inactivity and all that.'
'And have them openly set a bad example to the whole school?'
I hesitated. It didn't seem right to hit a man so nearly on the ropes. On the other hand the whole future of two young people was at stake, more after them no doubt.
'Major Royle,' I began, trying to measure my words very carefully, 'you'll have to change your approach. It's only making criminals out of decent kids.'
'I don't see that.'
'Well, think about it. Douglas and Louise have been keeping company for two years. If the event you dread so much had been going to happen there's a strong chance it would have happened by now.'
'It happened last Saturday evening, I gather,' he said drily.
'Yes and that happens every Saturday evening somewhere. But it's not that
you're really worried about; it's the possible consequences. I think you'll find
they took a responsible decision. I can't see that there's anything wrong in
that. After all, they're old enough to marry under Scots law without their
parents' consent, and Douglas is nearly old enough to fight for
his country.'
'Now look here, Sanderson,' he said, beginning to bridle. 'I am, as you know, in loco parentis. I am not dealing with a company of raw recruits. I can't order the sergeant to give the men a bawling out on pregnancy and clap and tell him to see that there's a good supply of French letters in the NAAFI toilets.'
'Perhaps you ought to do something like that,' I said, laughing. 'But in the meantime you could form judgments about who can be trusted in these matters and who needs - well, moral suasion, for want of a better expression. I honestly think, from what I know of them, that you can trust Douglas and Louise not to land you in it with the authority, the parents or the press.'
'So I have to depend on them?'
'If you like, though I wouldn't put it like that. Think of it this way. However hard you try, you can't control these young people every minute of every day. This is a school, not a prison.'
'Just so.'
Emboldened by this response, I went on. 'You'd have to lock them up every evening in separate cells if you wanted to keep them from getting to know each other.'
'I haven't any cells, and I haven't enough staff for that.'
'No you haven't, and anyway the times are changing. The age of chivalry is dead - if it ever really existed. Young men and women are beginning to take their lives into their own hands. Do you go to the cinema much?'
'No. I can't stand it nowadays.'
'There you are then. That's just what I mean. Go and see ... well ... Marilyn Munroe. If that's beneath you, try the theatre. Look Back in Anger, that's made a real hit.
'You see,' I went on, 'the war has made a huge difference. People want some pleasure after all that suffering and young people today won't stand for humbug.'
He stood up and walked over to one of the high windows of his office. It looked out on to the wide expanse of lawn at the front. Two great elms stood like sentries in the dense shrubbery that screened it from the street.
'I've always thought of the school as a haven,' he mused. 'An asylum to
shelter the vulnerable - a conservatory, where the sturdier plants can flourish
and be hardened off for
life outside.'
He turned back towards me.
'Perhaps you're right, Sanderson. Barr may be the stormy petrel, heralding turbulent times to come.'
'Again, I wouldn't put it quite like that, but I know what you mean.'
'I'll think about what you have said very carefully. Clearly I can't just climb down. But the blind eye ...' He laughed. 'Is this my Copenhagen?'
He summoned Douglas later that afternoon for another interview.
'Well, Barr. I have to say that I still thoroughly disapprove of your conduct, but my punishment may have been too severe. I understand that harmful consequences to Louise are not to be expected. That is something at least. But I cannot tolerate this kind of thing in the school. Its reputation must be spotless if parents are to have confidence in us. I trust, therefore, that this foolish nonsense between you two will stop.'
'I can't promise that, sir,' Douglas replied, emboldened by Louise's courage. 'We love each other. We are only doing what other young people are doing all the time - outside this school, I mean. I don't see that it's anyone's business what Louise and I do if no "consequences", as you put it, ensue.'
There was a long silence, then the Major said, between gritted teeth, 'It had better not, Barr, or it will go very hard indeed with you. You may go.'
* * *
Douglas and Louise met that evening at the corner of the street.
'Where are we going, dear?' Louise asked.
'To the boys' hostel.'
'Douglas, we can't! They'll be looking out for us.'
'I don't think so, Louise, but in any case we're not going to the potting shed. They've taken the key away.'
'Where then?'
'Come and see.'
She accompanied him back along the familiar route in the evening sunshine. When they came to the garage drive, Douglas drew her in and they crunched along to the turning for the green door.
'We're not going that way tonight,' said Douglas, taking her hand and leading her between two tall hollies. Two paces brought them to a flight of steps.
'Be careful not to catch your heel down here,' said Douglas, 'It's steep.'
The steps led to the edge of the sunken lawn. The dense plantation of shrubs and trees, through which they had descended, still screened them from the house above and behind.
'If you go right here you get on to the back lawn in full view of the house,' Douglas whispered. 'But if we go left ...'
He led her past a riot of greenery. They came to a narrow gap between the bushes and the wall of next-door's garden.
He drew her through and she found herself in a small rectangular enclosure, about as big as a garden hut. And indeed a hut had once stood there. Now the space was almost entirely enclosed by the bushes and the wall below the terrace. A lacework of branches formed a canopy above them, which rustled softly in the evening breeze. Thrushes and blackbirds hopped from bough to bough, disturbed in their ecstatic evensong.
'This is a delightful bower, Douglas. How did you find it?'
'Underground intelligence,' he laughed.
'I bet Bill Carter told you. He knows everything.'
Douglas took her to the inner corner of the bower, where a tangle of foliage formed a burrow, just large enough for them to lie in. Douglas spread out his coat and they crept inside. All was quiet and still, but for the birds that fluttered and twitted just above their heads.
'Where are the cricketers tonight?' asked Louise.
'At a special meeting of Scouts.'
'Oh yes, I forgot.'
'But won't they be a problem other nights?'
'They go off to summer camp next week. We'll have the place to ourselves.'
'And after that?'
'It's the summer holidays. We must sort out the parents and then back to Craigie for another winter.'
She laughed. 'Your amazing, Douglas Barr.'
'Not half so amazing as you, Louise. I couldn't believe my ears when you stood up to the Major like that. What happened upstairs?'
'I decided that the only way to save us was to have it straight out with Miss Starkey and Miss Richardson. Jimmy Riddell has been a dirty old man for years. All the girls talk about it. They call him the pawey beast. I said if Major Royle tried to expel either of us, I'd tell my father and he would be straight up to Bath Street with the Riddell story.'
Douglas was silent and thoughtful for some moments. At length he spoke.
'You're very brave, Louise. I wasn't at all brave with Major Royle. In fact, I couldn't say a word in our defence.'
'But you didn't have my secret weapon,' she said, smiling, and giving him
a
reassuring hug.
'That's very sweet of you, but I can't get off as easily as that.'
'How do you mean?'
'I've been thinking about myself, my basic attitudes, if you like.'
'And what do you think?'
'I thought I would be the hero in this romance. I saw myself as your chivalrous protector.'
`I thought I would be the hero in this romance. i saw myself as your chivalrous protector.`
'I know.'
'But it was nonsense really. I thought I was so strong I would always be able to get off at Haymarket. I didn't see how cruel that was to you. No woman of flesh and blood could stand it. Jack Wilson was right. There are only three things a girl can do when a boy wants her. She can say "no" or take a risk. Or she can take charge, as you did.'
'Oh, I wasn't so great. It just seemed the obvious thing to do and, after all, I left the difficult bit to you.'
'What was that?'
'Going to buy them. That must have taken a lot of nerve. I don't know if I could have done that.'
'I haven't the slightest doubt you could, Louise.'
She drew him close. 'Life's not a romance,' she murmured. 'There are no heroes and heroines, only comrades in arms.'
After a long pause, Douglas resumed. 'We've had a lucky escape.'
'Do you think they'll go on harrying us, Douglas?'
'I don't think so. Riddell has gone and Royle has had a fright. I hear Starchy and Pooh-Bah will be retiring soon.'
'Things are changing, you think?'
'Perhaps not just yet. Certainly not tomorrow. But I think Royle knows he's checkmated and he'll leave us alone now - so long as there are no "consequences",' he added, archly.
Louise laughed and stretched voluptuously. 'I love playing consequences,' she whispered.
'So do I,' said Douglas. 'And, come to think of it, the best of them was meeting you here. They call this a special school. It'll always be special to me.'
'And me,' sighed Louise, contentedly.