The Boy With No Boots Part 20

It was mid-morning now, but he wanted to fetch the grain first. The parcels would wait, he thought, pausing at the gate of the church to listen to an unfamiliar bird-song, a plaintive warbling melody coming from somewhere in the churchyard. Intrigued, he searched the trees and a flash of gold caught his eye, in the rippling foliage of the black poplars. He stood motionless, watching, and the bright yellow bird flew down and perched on the wall right in front of him.

Freddie held his breath. A golden oriole. There in Monterose on the church wall. A rare sight, a rare visitor.

And then he remembered. Those words! Words given to him in the night, a long, long time ago.

'When the golden bird returns, you will meet her again.'

From far away in the cutting through the hills came the shrill whistle of a train. The mid-morning train from Gloucesters.h.i.+re.

Freddie leapt over the church wall and ran down the road to the bakery, started his lorry and drove off, leaving Annie standing open-mouthed in the doorway. Freddie was a grown man now, a six-footer, slow moving and thoughtful. What could have caused him to run, and to rev his precious lorry like that?

Freddie's heart was racing as he drove down Station Road, and he was cross with himself. Why was he being an idiot? Rus.h.i.+ng about like that. Trusting a dream!

The train was already steaming into the platform. Freddie sat in the cab of the lorry, watching the gates, watching the pa.s.sengers emerging, the young boys scurrying to carry luggage as he had done. He watched and searched for a little dark-haired beauty with the face of an angel. He waited and waited, but she didn't come. Disappointment settled over him. He'd made a fool of himself.

Now the train was leaving, the pa.s.sengers walking away up Station Road. Freddie saw Charlie pop his head round the gate and look over at him, with a thumbs-up sign. He sighed. Better go and collect the parcels, whatever they were.

He swung down from the cab and loped across to the entrance.

'Here you are, Freddie. This is yours.' Charlie led him up the platform to a trolley where a truckle of cheese sat, wrapped in a cloth. It had a label in Kate's writing which said, 'With love to Annie and Freddie, from the Loxley Family at Asan Farm'. It smelled heavenly, he thought, pleased. Annie would be thrilled. He lifted the trolley handle to wheel it out.

'Don't go without the other parcel,' said Charlie who seemed to be bursting with some mysterious joke. 'It's here, in the waiting room. 'Tis a big 'un.'

'Right.'

Freddie pushed open the varnished door. The room was empty except for a young woman who stood with her back to him looking at a poster on the wall. Her hair was shoulder length, thick and glossy, and she wore a summer dress with emerald greens and touches of red, and a velvet bottle-green jacket. She stood with her feet neatly together in smart black shoes and stockings with straight seams.

Freddie stood there, frozen, and the door creaked shut behind him. The young woman swung round, and the room filled with light.

'Kate! My Kate!'

Freddie went to her quietly and stood basking in her smile. She was laughing.

'How's this for a parcel?' She twirled around and stood still again, gazing up into his eyes. 'It's lovely to see you, Freddie. I'd forgotten how tall you are.'

'You look radiant,' said Freddie, trying to detect the sadness in her eyes from losing Ethie. But he saw only sunlight and humour. 'And very smart,' he added, suddenly conscious of his own scruffy clothes covered in stone dust and oil. 'I'm in me working clothes. I didn't know you were coming.'

'I LOVE surprises,' said Kate. 'And you look fine. You're a working man, that's something to be proud of. And guess what? I'm a working girl now. I've got a JOB, at Monterose Hospital. I'm going to train to be a NURSE.'

'Oh well done. So, you'll be living here then? Where are you going to live?'

'In the nurses' home. I'll have my own room, and we get all our meals, and bed linen, and I shall make lots of friends. The matron's a bit of a dragon, but we'll get over that. I'm used to dragons. I'm looking forward to it.'

'Well I hope you don't go all stiff and starchy,' said Freddie with a twinkle in his eye, and listened in delight to the peal of ringing laughter, a sound he'd missed.

Charlie knocked on the window and peered in cheekily. 'Told you it was a big 'un!' he shouted. 'Now I'm off to taste me cheese.'

'Was he in on the secret?' asked Freddie.

'Yes,' said Kate, 'and I brought him a little round truckle of Mummy's cheese in my bag. He was pleased as punch.'

She chattered on about her journey and the people she had made friends with on the train, and Freddie stood there in a hazy dream, breathing in the loveliness of her presence. It was like standing under a cherry tree in full blossom on a hot day, wrapped in its wordless glory. He imagined being married to her. It would be like being married to a piece of music, he thought, and the haunting song of the golden oriole came into his mind. He wanted to tell her about it but first 'Kate before we go any further, and I hope you understand what I mean, I need to ask you something.'

'Go on, then.' She smiled into his attentive blue eyes, concerned to see anxiety in there.

'What about Ian Tillerman?'

'Oh him,' said Kate contemptuously. 'I'm afraid Ian is like a little boy. He went around telling everyone I was his fiancee, and he was lying. When I found out, I told him to go to Putney on a pig.'

Freddie laughed with her, feeling his troubles rolling away like barrels down a hillside.

'Well now I'll tell you something, Kate,' he said. 'What do you think I saw this morning? A golden oriole!'

Her mouth fell open.

'Well I never,' she said.

'I bet you don't believe me.'

Kate looked at him, her eyes full of that searching, caring expression he loved. 'I do believe you. I'll always believe you, Freddie,' she said emphatically. 'I trust you utterly and completely.'

'So you won't tell me to go to Putney on a pig then?'

'No. Never,' she said staunchly, and linked her arm into his. 'Now, I want you to look at this poster with me. See? It says you can go to WEYMOUTH for a day trip. Shall we go one day? It would be lovely, Freddie. You wait 'til you see the sea.'

Freddie looked at her expectantly, waiting for the next bit, and he wasn't disappointed.

'It SPARKLES like DIAMONDS.'

He thought about the diamond ring in its box, hidden under the floorboard, and he could feel it sparkling, coming to life in the dark place. The magic is back, he thought, the magic is back in my life. I'm so lucky.

'Of course we'll go,' he said. 'We've got all the time in the world. And I might even dig out that poetry book again.'

Annie soon became aware of the difference in her Freddie. He moved around with new energy, he was whistling and singing, and his eyes had changed. They were mysteriously alive now, as if he had found some secret light, and Annie couldn't help being pleased. She even began to feel better in herself. She had to admit that Kate Loxley had brought a new bright spirit into both their lives. The entrenched anxiety began to crumble, day by day, and her feelings warmed towards the brave, happy girl who was coping with a new life and the rigorous demands of a nurse's training.

'What's Kate's favourite colour?' Annie asked Freddie as he was heading out to start the lorry.

'Red,' he replied without hesitation. 'I'll see you later, Mother about six.'

Annie stood at the gate watching him drive off in a cloud of dust. 'Red,' she thought, and glanced up the hill at the hospital where Kate was working, its windows a soft amber in the afternoon sun. She looked down the road and she could see the wool shop. Her fingers itched to get her hands on some lovely red wool and knit Kate a cardigan. A red cardigan.

She walked inside and looked at herself in the mirror.

'All your life, Annie Barcussy,' she said to her reflection, 'you've been standing at the gate expecting other folks to run your errands. Now it's time you changed.'

She'd vowed never to go out again, yet now she found herself putting on her hat, taking some money from the bakery box, and wrapping her hand around Levi's walking stick. What would she do if the panic started? She couldn't be bothered with it. All she could see was the excitement of coming home with a basket of red wool, and a pattern for a cardigan.

Annie opened the gate and stepped out, her basket over one arm, squared her shoulders and walked steadily down the road to the shop.

On a blazing hot Sat.u.r.day in July, it seemed to Freddie that the whole day was encapsulated in one moment of time. It was like the centre of a sparkle, where all the rays of light converged, focusing the essence of his dreams into one intense minute of pure light.

All day he'd waited for the moment to come. He could think of little else as he and Kate travelled down to Weymouth. They got off the train, walked hand in hand down the street towards the clock tower, and arrived at the promenade railings. Seeing the sea for the first time stunned Freddie into silence. The water heaved and glittered before him like the sequinned gown of an opera singer; it had the same ma.s.sive, mysterious power as the undiscovered half of his consciousness.

For once, Kate was quiet as she watched his reaction, and waited for him to speak, but he didn't. He was far away, under the waves, following exotic fish into caves, watching shoals of them catching the light as they twisted and turned.

'Well, say something!' Kate prompted him after ten minutes of contemplative gazing.

'Ah well words might spoil it,' he said. 'I didn't expect it to be so blue, well blue-green like a kingfisher. And I didn't know it would be so vast.' He pointed at the horizon. 'That sharp line, 'tis like the blade of a knife. What would I see if I went out there?'

'France,' said Kate.

Freddie digested that information as he followed her down some steps to the sand. France had been pink in his geography book at school, and that was all he knew about it.

As usual, Kate kicked off her shoes, looked at him bewitchingly, and went running across the sand to paddle in the edge of the sea. He struggled out of his boots and socks, rolled up his trousers and sprinted over the velvety sand into deliciously cool crystal-clear water. Together they paddled, watching the sunlight marbling their skin.

'Taste it. It's SALTY.' Kate offered him some sea water in the palm of her hand. He dipped a finger, tasted the salt, then looked into her amber eyes. Is this the moment? he thought. No wait. Wait and be sure.

Someone was guiding him that day, Freddie knew. The same feeling of being in a bubble of light with Kate lingered all day as if they were cupped in the womb of a s.h.i.+ning angel whose wings covered the sea. He fancied there were golden ribbons in the air around them, winding, binding them together. He wanted to tell Kate, but it was hard to find an opportunity. She was so busy introducing him to the wonders of the seaside, collecting sh.e.l.ls, popping seaweed, and building sand-castles. Then came the picnic, leaning against the hot sea wall, the taste of b.u.t.ter and cuc.u.mber, the burn of the sun on his white feet.

The moment came just one hour before the train home. They were sitting on the end of a wooden jetty, dangling their feet in the water, and Kate was playfully trying to link her toes with his. Her sunburned arm kept brus.h.i.+ng against his, and the sea-breeze was blowing through her hair. The sunlight was sparkling on the water.

'Kate.'

There was something compelling in the way he lowered his voice an octave, and the way his eyes looked at her, unwavering and deep. Kate stopped giggling and paid attention.

'Now I'm going to tell you something,' he began, and he reached out and took her hands in his. 'In all of my life, I've never done anything major without thinking about it first, and I've thought and thought about this, Kate. I've loved you ever since I saw you riding down the lane on Daisy. I've kept an eye on you, in secret, all those years, and when I got the chance to meet you that day at the station, I saw something in you that is very rare and beautiful. No, don't say anything hear me out.' Freddie's voice deepened with the pa.s.sion he was feeling, and Kate listened, spellbound by his intensity. 'I don't just mean beautiful to look at, Kate, because you are, but it's something beyond that, some magic in your eyes. You're a beautiful person. You're kind and full of life and and hope. I think you are pure goodness. And when you went I was devastated. I put my heart and soul into carving the stone angel, and her face is your face because I carried you in my heart all those years, Kate.' Freddie paused and squeezed her hands. He looked at the sunlight in her eyes and knew from the way she was listening that he could say everything in his heart. 'No one else knows this, but I can pick up feelings from touching stone, as if it's a storehouse of everything that has happened close to it. So when I'd finished the stone angel, I stood out there in the twilight, with the planet Venus bright in the west, and I put my two hands on the stone angel and recited a poem, one that says everything I feel about you, Kate, and I could feel the stone absorbing my words like a prayer.'

'What was it? The prayer?' Kate asked, her eyes never leaving his face.

'It's W. B. Yeats again.' Freddie took out his wallet and extracted a dog-eared square of cardboard, cut from a cigarette packet covered in tiny neat handwriting.

'My granny wrote this out for me when I was a lad,' he said, 'with a quill pen she'd made from a chicken feather. She'd got a dark blue tablecloth she embroidered with white and gold, and she'd done the sun, moon and stars on it, and the clouds. I got it now and I put it over the stone angel to keep the prayer in there until you saw it. 'Tis a lovely old thing, I treasure it, and she made it because she liked the poem. Have you read it?'

'No you read it to me, please,' implored Kate. 'I love to hear your voice.'

'Oh all right.' Freddie studied the poem for a moment, then slowly read it in a voice so quiet and deep that it blended with the whispering of the sea.

'Had I the heavens' embroidered cloths Enwrought with gold and silver light, The blue and the dim and the dark cloths Of night and light and the half light, I would spread the cloths under your feet: But I being poor have only my dreams; I have spread my dreams under your feet; Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.'

'That's beautiful,' she breathed.

Freddie took a deep breath. He sensed the golden ribbons being wound around them. He was almost there almost.

'Now I've got to ask you a question,' he said intently.

'Go on, then.' Kate smiled encouragingly.

'Do you do you think you can love me, Kate? The way I love you?'

The answer came warm and swift, carrying him effortlessly into the moment he'd waited for all day.

'But I DO love you, Freddie. With all my heart,' said Kate warmly.

Freddie looked at her joyfully. He let go of her hands, reached into his heart pocket and slowly withdrew the velvet box. He hoped he wasn't going to cry, but his voice broke a little as he gave it to her.

'Freddie!'

'Open it, Kate.'

She lifted the velvet lid, and gasped as the sun caught the diamond and the facets winked with the colours of sunlight.

'I want you to have it, Kate. Because you are the diamond in my life. I'd like it to be an engagement ring if -'

'Freddie!' Kate whispered, again, and her eyes brimmed with happy tears. She took the ring out, held it up to the light and then slipped it onto the ring finger of her left hand. 'How wonderful. I've always loved you, and hoped you would love me too. I've truly never, ever felt so blessed.'

They stared at each other, and the humour came dancing back into Kate's brown eyes.

'And now,' she said bossily, 'you are going to kiss me, aren't you?'

Freddie took her into his arms. She felt warm and her tears tasted salty like the sea. The long slow kiss melted them together, there by the sparkling water, for one moment of time.

Chapter Twenty-Two.

ONE YEAR LATER.

Daisy stood patiently in the stable at the back of Herbie's yard, wondering what all the fuss was about. She was an old horse and she'd done everything from ploughing, hauling timber in the woods, dragging hay carts, and being paraded at shows and carnivals. She'd done it all obligingly and carefully, she'd endured being muddy and wet and tired, or tolerated being dressed up in jingling bra.s.ses. Now there were three people round her: Freddie, who was grooming her vigorously with a brush, Herbie, who was shampooing her huge legs, and Joan, who was standing on a box plaiting her mane into little braids, looping them and tying in brightly coloured ribbons and ta.s.sels.

'She's looking good!' Herbie grinned up at Freddie. 'Look how white her socks are. Don't know how I'll ever get them dry.'

'I've never done this before,' said Freddie who was enjoying polis.h.i.+ng the big solid horse's coat, leaning his weight on the brush until she shone like a conker. Daisy seemed to like what he was doing.

'Oh I have,' said Joan brightly. 'My parents had show horses. Now where are those bra.s.ses?'

'In that box.' Freddie handed her the clinking box of horse bra.s.ses Annie had spent hours polis.h.i.+ng. 'They still smell of Bra.s.so.'

'Never mind the Bra.s.so. This is hoof oil going on now,' said Herbie, slos.h.i.+ng it on with a paintbrush. 'She's going to use up the whole tin with hooves this size.'