Flash the Sheep Dog Read online

  “Aye, in Mistress Bain’s own car!” Aunt Jane sounded ominous. “There are times when I think I’ll get a car o’ my own.”

  “Michty me, Jane!” John exclaimed, almost bereft of speech.

  “What for no’?” Jane Meggetson demanded. “Can ye give me a good reason?”

  “Weel, we’ve got a car already.”

  “Aye, and a grand lot of use it is to me when ye canna’ even take me out in it whiles of an evening,” Jane said reproachfully.

  John Meggetson put on a resigned expression. “I can see there’s no help for it. Which is it to be, the minister or the schoolmaster?”

  “The minister first and we’ll go tomorrow night!” Jane replied with instant decision.

  The next evening supper was earlier than the usual hour of seven o’clock and Aunt Jane appeared in a floral-patterned silk dress. John Meggetson eyed her with apprehension.

  “You’re awful smart the night!”

  “Aye,” Aunt Jane said shortly. “And I’ll thank you to take off yon baggy suit you wear among the sheep and put on your best blue one.”

  “My church-going suit?” Uncle John sounded horrified.

  “Aye, it’s time it had an airing,” Aunt Jane said briskly. “And you, Tom, get into your best pullover and clean your shoes and give your face a good wash.”

  Uncle John pulled a face at Tom behind Aunt Jane’s back and with the air of a conspirator he announced, “But we’d thought o’ giving Flash a turn on the hill.”

  “Ah, weel, maybe you should think again,” Aunt Jane told him with the calm air of a woman who has made up her mind. “Either we go visiting the minister or the schoolmaster the night or I draw my Egg Savings out o’ Peebles Post Office and buy a car!”

  Tom looked up with interest. “What kind of a car, Aunt Jane? A Jaguar?”

  “Mebbe!” Aunt Jane replied recklessly, hardly knowing one make of car from another. The light of battle was in her eye.

  “It’s a right expensive car,” John said hastily.

  “Mm, weel, I daresay I’ve got a nice bit of money put by from the sale o’ the eggs and poultry this many a year and I havena’ spent any of it,” Aunt Jane remarked with the casual air of one who could order a fleet of Jaguars without flicking an eyelid. “Ye’d better get into that blue suit or I might even be thinking of a Rolls Royce.” This was a car of which she had heard.

  John Meggetson knew when he was bested and he went meekly upstairs to change into his blue suit. When he and Tom returned to the farm kitchen it was in their Sunday best and with faces scrubbed.

  “That’s better!” Aunt Jane said, eyeing them appraisingly.

  Flash jumped up from his favourite place on the hearthrug, expecting to be taken for a walk.

  “Shall we be able to take Flash?” Tom asked.

  Aunt Jane hesitated. “Weel, mebbe no’, Tom. Both the schoolmaster and the minister have got dogs and it might no’ do to put Flash with them. Puppies can sometimes be impudent to older dogs and the older dogs resent it.”

  Tom looked disappointed but he realized the wisdom of his aunt’s decision.

  “Weel, seeing it’s got to be, let’s get going!” Uncle John said, looking as if he wanted to get over an unpleasant visit to the dentist. He took his tweed cap from a peg behind the door.

  “John Meggetson! Ye’ll no’ be thinking of going visiting in that dirty old greasy cap?” Aunt Jane exclaimed. “The minister would be black affronted. Go get your trilby!”

  “I may as weel be hung for a sheep as for a lamb!” Uncle John remarked resignedly as he hung the cap back on its peg and brought his trilby from the hall-stand. Flash began to follow them hopefully.

  “No! Back, Flash!” Tom commanded. The puppy stopped, lifting first one foreleg and then the other and finally, with a melancholy eye, returned to the hearthrug. The three went out to the waiting car, Uncle John banging the kitchen door as they left. None of them knew the tweed cap had been jerked from its peg and fallen to the floor!

  4. Three Visits and a Tweed Cap

  The car rolled along towards Peebles and the manse where the minister, Mr Campbell, lived. Aunt Jane sat up very straight, looking from right to left with satisfaction, ready to bow to her acquaintances. They drew up at the manse door and got out.

  “Ring the bell, John!” Aunt Jane ordered. It was obviously not the correct thing for her to ring the bell for herself. After a look of surprise John Meggetson obeyed.

  As the jingling died away an elderly woman appeared at the door. It was Mrs Murray, the minister’s housekeeper with whom Aunt Jane was only slightly acquainted. Mrs Murray seemed surprised to see the three of them on the doorstep.

  “Is Mr Campbell at home?” Mrs Meggetson asked politely.

  “No, he’s in Edinburgh,” the housekeeper replied.

  “Mrs Campbell then?”

  “She’s gone with him. What were you wanting, Mrs Meggetson?” Mrs Murray was nothing if not forthright.

  “Well – we thought we’d like our nephew to make his acquaintance and – and his son’s, as the laddies will be attending the same school.”

  A face peered round Mrs Murray. It belonged to Douglas Campbell, the minister’s son.

  “Oh, there you are, Douglas!” Mrs Meggetson said.

  The boy made no move to come forward but just stared at Tom, who stared back in his turn.

  “Will ye’ not come and shake hands wi’ Tom?” Mrs Meggetson said, slightly exasperated. Douglas came forward reluctantly and took Tom’s hand in a limp grasp.

  “Where’s he come from?” he asked Mrs Meggetson as though Tom was dumb.

  Tom spoke for himself. “London!” he said proudly.

  “I’ve heard my father say London’s a dirty, wicked city,” the boy replied, his lips curving downward in disapproval.

  “That’s not true!” Tom said indignantly. “It’s no worse than any other city.”

  “Ssh! Ssh, Tom!” Mrs Meggetson said, taken aback. “I daresay the minister had reason for what he said.”

  “It’s a lie!” Tom persisted. “London’s a grand place with wide streets and parks. It’s not dirty!”

  “My father does not tell lies,” Douglas Campbell said righteously.

  “Then he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” Tom replied bluntly. “He can’t have seen the Thames, the Embankment and the Houses of Parliament and Westminister Bridge and – and—” A sudden wave of nostalgia for London choked him and he could say no more.

  “What impudence!” the housekeeper remarked, regarding Tom dourly.

  “There’s no good done by standing on the step arguing about London if Mr Campbell’s no’ here,” Uncle John decided. “We’d be as weel to get into the car again.”

  “I’ll thank you to tell Mr Campbell that we called to see him,” Aunt Jane told the housekeeper with dignity.

  Uncle John opened the car door and they all got in. Tom looked back to see Douglas Campbell pulling a face and putting out his tongue at him. Like lightning he put out his tongue in return but he was not quick enough for Aunt Jane.

  “Tom Stokes, I’m ashamed of you!” she said in annoyance.

  “He shouldn’t have said what he did about London,” Tom replied, hot with temper.

  “You shouldn’t have answered him back like that, Tom,” his aunt reproved him.

  “What for no’?” Uncle John said unexpectedly. “There was no’ call for Douglas Campbell to be making his remarks about London. He started the ball rolling, no’ Tom!”

  Jane Meggetson stared at him. “Douglas Campbell’s the minister’s son, I’ll remind you.”

  “That doesna’ matter. That’s no excuse for him,” Uncle John replied stubbornly. There was silence for a few minutes then he enquired, “Are you still wanting to go see the schoolmaster?”

  “I don’t know!” Aunt Jane said, looking put out.

  “Ah, weel, there’s no sense in getting all decked out in our best if we dinna’ finish the job,” Uncle John sa
id, and he turned in the direction of the schoolhouse.

  They found Alexander Donaldson at home. He greeted Uncle John warmly. “Man, John Meggetson, I’ve got something the day that’ll fairly make you open your eyes!” he said. He led the way into his book-lined sitting room. “Sit ye down while I bring it.” He pulled forward an armchair for Mrs Meggetson, then disappeared into the kitchen premises. He returned bearing a large dish in his hand.

  “Look what I’ve got on this ashet!” he said with pride, using the Scottish word for a large meat dish. There, on the ashet, was a huge speckled trout. Uncle John gazed at it in admiration and awe.

  “Man, that’s a right big fish! It’ll be close on four pounds.”

  “Four pounds one ounce!” Mr Donaldson said with pride.

  “Where did ye tak’ him?”

  “Ye know the pool near where the Leithen Water runs into the Tweed? I got him there. I’ve been after him for days.”

  “What fly did ye use?” Uncle John asked with all the enthusiasm of a fisherman.

  “A grey hen with a rusty body,” Mr Donaldson replied.

  Tom opened his eyes wide. He had never heard of anybody fishing with a grey hen! Mr Donaldson saw his astonished look and laughed.

  “It’s the name of a fly, laddie. I tried him with several and I began to think he was too wise for me, but he rose at last to the grey hen.”

  “Did he put up a fight?” Uncle John asked.

  “Aye, so he did! He had my reel whirring like a whirligig at a fair as I played him up and down the river. I thought I’d tire before he did, or else my line would snap. It took me every bit of half an hour to land him.”

  The two men gazed in rapt admiration at the big fish and the conversation began to drift into talk of pools and currents and fishing gear and flies. Tom sat as one listening to a foreign tongue. It all went over his head. Even Aunt Jane got restive. She cleared her throat determinedly at last.

  “Aye, it’s a fair wonder o’ a fish,” she agreed, “but you mustn’t forget what we’ve come to see Mr Donaldson about, John.”

  “Oh, aye!” Uncle John replied, as one coming to himself. “Aye, it’s about the lad here, our nephew Tom. Ye’ll have room for him in the school at the start o’ the term?”

  “Aye, there’s room. Which part of the country are you from, lad?”

  “London!” Tom said explosively, waiting for the derogatory remark against his city, but none came.

  Mr Donaldson looked a little surprised at the lad’s tone but all he said was, “Most London schools have a good name. You should have had quite a fair degree of education there. How old are you?”

  “Twelve.” Tom replied briefly.

  “Mm! Then you’ll have passed your eleven plus exam?”

  “No.” Tom sounded defiant.

  “But you’ll have taken the exam, surely?”

  Tom shook his head but vouchsafed no explanation.

  “But you’re of the age to have sat the exam. Were you ill at the time?”

  It would have been easy for Tom to say “Yes” but there was always a downright honesty in Tom that would not let him lie.

  “No. I–I played truant on the day I should have been at the exam,” he admitted.

  “Tom Stokes!” Aunt Jane exclaimed, horrified.

  Even Uncle John looked rather nonplussed. “You never told us that, lad!”

  “You never asked me!” Tom gulped.

  “Oh, what a shocking thing to do!” Aunt Jane said.

  “At least Tom has told us quite honestly of his own accord what happened,” Mr Donaldson said quietly. “Maybe other opportunities will offer themselves yet. All is not finished if you don’t get the eleven plus at the right age. Is Tom likely to be staying with you for a length of time, Mr Meggetson?”

  Mr and Mrs Meggetson looked rather helplessly at each other.

  “It’s this way, Mr Donaldson,” Mrs Meggetson began. “Tom’s sister has gone to America to be married, and she hasn’t been able to make arrangements for Tom to go out to her, so he may be here quite a while.”

  Tom’s eyes burned with bitterness. “Her last letter said they’d got a nice apartment but they’d got no room in it for me. I don’t think her husband wants me there,” he blurted out.

  “Give her time, Tom. It may not be easy for them,” Aunt Jane said quietly.

  Tom shook his head unhappily.

  Mr Donaldson gave him a keen glance. “What did you do in your spare time when you were not at school, Tom? Did you belong to any boys’ clubs?”

  Tom shook his head. “No. I just used to go round with other lads looking at things, you know.”

  “What kind of things?” Mr Donaldson persisted.

  “Oh, I dunno!” Tom seemed reluctant to say. “Cars – and people and – and the ships on the river.” It was as though the last was dragged out of him.

  “The Thames?”

  “Yes.”

  “There’s a lot to be seen on the Thames. It’s like a gateway to London,” Mr Donaldson remarked.

  Tom’s eye kindled gratefully for a minute, then the spark died again.

  “You’ll take a cup of tea now, Mrs Meggetson?” the schoolmaster offered, but Aunt Jane had already risen to her feet.

  “That’s kind of you, Mr Donaldson, but we’ve got another visit to make on the way home so maybe you’ll forgive us.”

  John Meggetson eyed the big trout reluctantly. He would have liked to stay and talk fishing with Alexander Donaldson.

  “My! That’s the bonniest trout I’ve seen this many a day,” he said as he followed his wife out of the room.

  They said goodbye and the car started off once more.

  “What was your hurry?” John Meggetson asked his wife. “Are you going somewhere else?”

  “You can call at the roadman’s house on the way back. It’s no’ far out of your way.”

  “The roadman? What are ye wanting wi’ Jim Young? Are we all dressed up to go and see the roadman?” There was a hint of sarcasm in John Meggetson’s voice.

  “Don’t talk so foolish!” Aunt Jane said, rather nettled. “I want to see Alison, his wife. She’s not been well this while past since she broke her leg that bad winter. She was a good lassie to me when she helped at the farm before she was married, when our children were young.”

  Uncle John took the road that led to the roadman’s cottage.

  “Don’t be too long,” he said, as he stopped the car. “Tom will want to give Flash a turn outside before it’s dark.”

  Tom threw his uncle a grateful glance.

  A small dark girl opened the door to them. She had an an elf-like face with bright eyes and seemed about the same age as Tom.

  “Hullo, Elspeth! I’ve just called to ask for your mother,” Mrs Meggetson greeted her.

  “Come in, please, Mrs Meggetson.” Elspeth led the way into a tidy, bright living room. Mrs Young sat in an easy chair, her leg stretched out on a footstool and a pile of mending beside her. A quiet-mannered, weather-beaten man rose to greet them. He was Jim Young.

  “Why, it’s you, Mrs Meggetson!” Mrs Young exclaimed with delighted welcome. “I’m sorry I canna’ get up so easily.”

  “Dinna’ try, my lassie! How’s the leg?”

  A cloud passed over Alison Young’s face. “The bone’s no’ healed as it should have done. It’s left one leg shorter than the other and I canna’ walk without pain.”

  “How are you managing, then, Alison?”

  “Elspeth’s a good lassie about the house and Jim helps her. I can do sitting-down jobs like preparing the food and even the ironing.”

  “Are the doctors not doing anything for it?”

  “Doctor McAulay wants her to go to the hospital in Edinburgh to have it re-set. Ye see, the damage was done to it when she had to lie so long when it was broken and the doctor couldna’ get up the valley for the snow drifts,” Jim Young explained.

  “When will you be going to the hospital then?” Mrs Meggetson asked.
<
br />   “I canna’ say! It’s kind o’ difficult. I don’t like to leave Elspeth on her own and sometimes, when Jim’s been working at a distance, it’s been awful late when he’s got back. She’s such a bit lassie and it’s so lonely here. Anything might happen.”

  “Mm!” Mrs Meggetson looked thoughtful.

  All this time Elspeth had been quietly busy putting the kettle on the fire and setting cups and saucers on a tray. Tom, slightly bored and aching to get back to Flash, watched her as she moved about. Shyly she proffered cake along with the welcome cup of tea.

  “This cake’s very good, Alison. Ye’ve no’ lost your light hand with a sponge,” Mrs Meggetson remarked.

  “Oh, Elspeth made that,” Mrs Young said.

  “Weel done, lassie!” Mr Meggetson approved.

  Elspeth blushed and went away to fill up the kettle again.

  When they had finished their tea Mrs Meggetson said rather pointedly, “Will you take Tom to see your rabbits, Elspeth, while I have a bit talk with your mother?”

  Elspeth led the way to an outhouse behind the cottage where some of the road repairing tools were stored. Standing against its wall was a well-constructed rabbit hutch in which were two silky Angora rabbits and several tiny ones that looked like small balls of fluff. Tom looked at them with interest.

  “That’s Bill and Betty and their family,” Elspeth told him shyly.

  “My! They’re fine rabbits!” Tom exclaimed.

  “Aye, they’re right bonnie, aren’t they?” Elspeth was pleased with Tom’s admiration. She opened the hutch. “Like to lift one out? Go on! Betty won’t mind. She’s used to me handling her babies.”

  Tom lifted out one silky-coated little creature and stroked it.

  “Have you any rabbits?” Elspeth asked him.

  “No, but I’ve got a dog up at the farm.”

  “What kind?”

  “A sheep dog. I’m training him myself. Uncle John is showing me how to do it. He thinks Flash is going to be good.” Before Tom realized it he had launched into a description of the way he was training his dog. Elspeth listened with close attention, asking a question now and again which showed she was wise in the way of sheep dogs.