The Painted Tent (2 page)

As they went Smiler became more and more resigned to his parting from the good friends he had made in Scotland and the little world he had known there
¹
But never for long could he forget his worry about his father, or still the natural fear he had that the police might find him and send him back to the approved school from which he had originally escaped – and to which he meant never to return if he could avoid it because he had been sent there in the first place for something he had never done.

Jimmy was amusing company but, for all their chat and the stories Jimmy told as they travelled the roads in the ancient car, Smiler never came to know much about Jimmy himself. And he was far too polite to ask any direct questions. Jimmy suffered from no such inhibitions and during their journey he came to know a lot about Smiler – and guessed much more. It was the result of Jimmy's gleanings that brought a surprise for Smiler on the morning of their third day of travel. He was fast asleep in the passenger seat when he was awakened by the car being brought to a stop. Smiler saw that they were parked in a street of small neat suburban villas. Smiler recognized at once where he was. It was a Bristol street only a little way from the one in which his sister Ethel and her husband Albert lived.

As he stared puzzled at Jimmy he was greeted by one of the man's slow winks.

‘That's right, lad. Bristol. I don't aim to have any near and dear ones worrying about what might have happened to you. Nip along and tell 'em you're all right and not to worry. I'll be waiting.'

Five minutes later Smiler eased open the door of Albert's workshop at the back of the house in which he had always lived while his father was away at sea.

Albert looked round from his bench where he was turning a thread on a piece of piping and stared at Smiler. Then slowly he smiled broadly, nodded his head, and said, ‘Now, ain't that odd? I was only just thinkin' about you.'

Smiler, who knew he was all right with Albert, that Albert was always on his side, said, ‘ Where's Sister Ethel?'

‘Don't worry about her. She's off to the supermarket. Just gone.'

Though he was very fond of his sister, Smiler had always been in her bad books, chiefly because – no matter how hard he tried not to – he messed up her neat little house and, according to her, was going to the dogs with the bad company he kept. Sister Ethel had a natural instinct for magnifying and exaggerating the smallest upset into a mountain of trouble and tragedy.

Smiler said, ‘That's all right then. But I haven't come back for good, Albert.'

‘Fair enough, Sammy, fair enough. Just a friendly call to say everything's all right, eh? You chose the right day. The police was here yesterday this time But I'll have to tell Ethel about this … maybe this evening over supper cocoa. You all right for money and everything?'

‘Yes, thanks. I worked in Scotland and had some good friends, and there's another waiting. He's going to fix me up …' Slowly Smiler's lower lip began to tremble and then he burst out, ‘Oh, Albert … did you … did you hear about Dad?'

‘That I did. Police told us. Missed his boat in Montevideo and no sign of him since. But that ain't worryin' you, is it? Because if it is – don't let it. I've known your Dad since before you was born. Not the first time he's missed his ship. Not the first time he's disappeared into the blue. But he always turns up.'

‘But something bad could have happened to him, Albert.'

‘Think so? Not me. Nor should you. You're just like him. Your sister might worry about you, for instance, when you took off into the blue from that approved school. But did I? No. Like father, like son, I said. Never lost a wink of sleep. That's how you want to look at it, Sammy. Two of a kind, you are. Always land on your feet.'

What Albert said suddenly struck Smiler as sensible. He hadn't thought about it that way before. Convinced of his own innocence he had run off from the approved school, kept out of the way of the police, found jobs, had adventures and made many friends – and had always been sure that in the end things would turn out right. Particularly the moment when his father got back to help him.
But – all the time people were worrying about him like he was worrying now about his father when there was no reason to worry.

Albert grinned. ‘Sinks home, don't it? So, don't worry about your Dad. When you least expect it, he'll turn up. Always did, always will. When you least expect him he'll come marchin' in through the door, breezy as a west wind.'

‘You really believe that?'

‘Yes. And if I was a bettin' man – which I was until I married your sister – I'd bet on it. Still, there's one thing – wherever you fetch up, just now and then drop us a line. Not to the house. Just to me care of the General Post Office, Bristol. I'd just like to be able to give a bit of news to Ethel now and then. Like that – if the police come askin' again, which they will, I can say truthfully, “No, we ain't had no letter from him here.” Strict truth.' He winked.

So Smiler promised that he would write sometimes, and then he left well before his sister was likely to be back.

In the car again with Jimmy, he slowly began to feel much happier. ‘Samuel M.,' he told himself, ‘you've been making mountains out of molehills. Leave Scotland you had to because of the police. But worryin' about Dad … well, Albert's right. All seamen miss their boats now and then. Always fall on their feet, though. Like a cat with nine lives.'

Scampi sitting on his lap purred as though he understood and approved.

From Bristol they went down through Somerset, taking their time and keeping to the side roads. In the mildness of early October, the light of the declining sun cast a pale golden wash over the country. They climbed the Quantocks and then on to the high stretches of Exmoor with the silver spread of the sea away to their right. They went down into small river valleys, through the whiteand pink-washed huddles of old villages, and now and again far away to their left they got glimpses of the high tors of distant Dartmoor.

Jimmy, back in his own West Country, took great gulps of the mild, clear air, sucking it in as though he had been a fish out of water too long. And because he was a well-read, self-educated man and had no reason to disguise the fact at this moment, he told Smiler – who had an appetite for information and knowledge as big as any he ever carried to a well-filled table – many things about his land. He told him of the Monmouth Rebellion on the Somerset marshes, and the merciless Judge Jeffreys who had brought death and exile to the rebels; of the story of
Lorna Doone
and the wild Carver family who had terrorized the countryside; of
Westward Ho!
and Amyas Leigh; of real people like the great Drake; of Frobisher, Raleigh and of the sturdy, dour Cornish miners and their support for Bishop Trelawney. And Jimmy taught Smiler – who had a naturally good voice – songs about them, songs new and old …
Judge Jeffreys was a wicked man, he sent my father to Van Diemens land … And shall Trelawney die? Then forty thousand Cornishmen shall know the reason why … There was a little man come from the West, he married a wife she was not of the best…

For Smiler, it was almost as though he were with his father, for they were both great ones for singing together. Because of this and also of what Albert had said, Smiler felt happier than he had done for a long time (although it was only a few days) and his troubles lifted because in the young there is a natural good balance of the emotions, and dark thoughts like stones sink from sight in the sparkling pool of the present.

But there was one moment when Smiler realized that Mr Jimmy Jago had his dark troubles, too. Once he stopped where they could get a good view of distant Dartmoor. When Smiler said that he would like to go there some day Jimmy, without looking at him, said in an almost angry voice, ‘Aye, lad, it's a wild, beautiful place – but there's many there now who could wish they'd never seen it, could wish they were a million miles away from it.'

Smiler knew at once what he meant.

He said, ‘You mean the people in prison there? In Princetown prison?'

Jimmy turned and looked at him and said, ‘ What else would I mean?'

When they drove on it was some time before Jimmy's good spirits came back. But back they did come. An hour later they dropped down into the valley of the River Taw, which had its source high up on distant Dartmoor and flowed to the sea at Barnstaple and out into the wide estuary to meet its sister river the Torridge.

They crossed the river by an ancient stone bridge and then the road began to twist and climb along the sides of a small valley through which ran a wide brook. The sides of the valley were patched with woodland and stubble fields and, high over a plantation of firs, Smiler saw three buzzards wheeling and soaring.

They climbed away from the valley, lost sight of it, and then came back to it down a steep hill. At the bottom of the hill was a long, low farm-house, slate-roofed, with white-washed stone walk. To one side of it were stables, two large stone barns and, beyond them, green meadows and patches of woodland flanking the sides of the twisting brook.

Mr Jago drove through the open farm gate into the wide gravel space before the house. As the car was pulled up Scampi jumped from Smiler's lap through the open car-door window and disappeared around the corner of the house.

Jimmy Jago grinned. ‘He's off to see his missus. Travellin' man is Scampi but he's always glad to get back.'

As Smiler and Jimmy got out of the car the front door of the farm opened and a woman stepped out into the wide porchway. She was a tall, very plump woman of middle age. She came out to greet them like a galleon under full sail, moving for all her bulk as though her feet only just touched the ground. Her hair was red, a tight mop of close curls, and she wore dangling earrings made from silver coins. The ample folds of her long green dress flapped in the valley breeze. All over the dress was a close design of birds, animals, flowers, signs of the zodiac and other symbols. (During all the time Smiler was to be at the farm he was always discovering some new symbol or bird or animal on the dress. In fact, he sometimes had the feeling that the whole design changed every time she wore it.) Her plump face was jolly and creased with a smile and she had soft brown eyes dark as the waters of a woodland pool.

She cried, ‘Jimmy!' The next moment she had clamped her arms around him and – though he was a big man – it seemed to Smiler that he momentarily disappeared into the green, multi-patterned folds of her dress. She smacked two great kisses on his face and then released him.

Jimmy stepped back, straightened his boater, and said, ‘ Surprised to see me, Ma?'

‘And why should I be? The news was on the wind an hour ago. Yin got it first.' Her voice like herself was large and jolly.

‘Yin,' said Jimmy to Smiler, ‘ is Scampi's wife. And this lady, Sammy, is my mother.' Then to his mother he said, ‘ Meet Samuel Miles, Ma. He's a friend of mine.' Then to Smiler he said, ‘Sammy – the Duchess.'

Smiler held out his hand to the Duchess and said, ‘I'm very pleased to meet you, ma'am.'

The Duchess took his hand, shook it warmly and vigorously and said, ‘ Welcome to Bullaybrook Farm, boy.' Then cocking her head to one side she eyed him closely and inquired. ‘ Libra? Am I right?'

Smiler, puzzled, said, ‘Please, ma'am?'

‘Your zodiac sign,' said Jimmy. ‘When were you born?'

‘October the tenth,'

‘Then it is Libra,' declared the Duchess. ‘And this is a good day for you, boy. Yes, a good day. Mercury's not bothering your sign.'

‘I brought him along, Ma,' said Jimmy, ‘because he's in trouble. Thought you could sort him out a bit – meantime he's got broad shoulders and good hands so he could be useful around the place.'

‘Why not? But remember, boy, for the next three days always go out of the house right foot first and come in left foot first.' She gave him a wink and continued, ‘ Come on then – into the house.'

She turned and sailed before them and Smiler was careful – even though he felt that it was really a joke – to step over the threshold with his left foot first.

That night Smiler lay awake in bed for a long time sorting things out. He had been given a small room at the back of the house which looked across to the brook. There were four bedrooms and a bathroom on the first floor. Down below as you came through the porch door was a large hall, to one side of which was a dining-room and then a long farm kitchen, stone-flagged. On the other side was a large sitting-room with an open stone fireplace, the ceiling dark-raftered with oak beams: From there, now, Smiler could just catch the faint mumble of the voices of Jimmy and the Duchess as they talked. A picture of the room was clear in his mind.

Before the fire were a sofa and chintz-covered armchairs. A wide, circular table stood in the middle of the room and there was a big grandfather clock just inside the door. But what had interested Smiler most were the walls of the room. They were covered from floor to ceiling with pictures, framed photographs and old posters and prints, and every one of them had something to do with circuses or fairs. There were photographs of liberty horses, of tiger and lion acts, of performing elephants and seals, of high-wire and trampoline artistes, and trained dogs and pigeons. Some of the photographs were old and faded and some were quite new. The posters were past and present advertisements for travelling circuses, bold, garish colours flaming in the mellow light of the room. Over the fireplace itself was a large oil-painting showing the head and shoulders of a clown with a bulbous red nose, his face masked with traditional make-up, and on his head a battered old tophat. Even under the make-up a half-sad, half-comic expression showed through from the real man. At the foot of the picture was a little gold plaque with the words
The Duke
printed on it in black.