The Shadow of the Sycamores by Doris Davidson Page B

was going round that Mr Ledingham was smitten with her and he didn’t want to spoil things for her. It was a pity that Ledingham was married, of course, but his wife had left him and why shouldn’t he and Janet find some happiness together?
    He, himself, had reached a stage where his evenings and night-times were becoming preoccupied with thoughts of thegirls he saw during the day. He hadn’t settled on a special one yet but he likely would. Which one, though? That was the question.
    Gladys wasn’t too bad but, as always when he met a girl he quite liked, she was far too tall for him.
    Daisy was a real bonnie wee thing with a sweet, heart-shaped face, wide baby-blue eyes, soft mouth – but long, flaming-red hair with a temper to match, not that she ever lost her rag with any of the folk she was looking after. Just the same, life probably wouldn’t be easy if he took her for a wife – yet maybe it would be fun?
    Poll was about his own height but quite dumpy. Her hair was dead straight, usually tied back with a blue ribbon that was always in danger of sliding off. She had dull grey eyes and a mouth that was often gripped together at being teased. It was a shame the rest of them tormented her about her shape – the poor lass couldn’t help it. Maybe, if he chose her, he could make her stop stuffing herself at the table and her figure would slim down? Maybe all she needed was to know that somebody cared for her?
    Nora was quite nice but just a bit too old – or was three years not that big a difference? She was couthy in her manner to them all, she laughed a lot, she didn’t fuss about her appearance though she was always neat and tidy – mousy hair tied back so that no strands could work loose, cheeks shining with cleanliness. Being older than the others, her bosom was more rounded, her waist more slender, her bottom trimmer, her legs more shapely.
    Stopping to draw in his breath, Henry became aware of a new unaccustomed warmth inside him and he resolved to concentrate on Nora. He would court her for a good few months before he told her what was in his mind for he was sure she would make him a good wife and give him just the son he wanted. Then he wouldn’t touch her in that way again for he could easily have inherited his father’s … he couldn’t find one word for it but ‘ability to make babies’ fitted the bill. He had no intention of making his wife have thirteen babies oreven half of that – minus the half, of course, for you couldn’t have half a baby.
    But, even if he knew several families with five or more children, he also knew some with only one or two so what did the fathers do to stop having more? There must be a way so how could he find out? Happy at having chosen Nora on whom to lavish his attentions, Henry fell into a deep sleep.
    His high hopes were shattered about an hour after breakfast while he was mending the broken posts in the fence round the vegetable garden. Seeing the girl in question coming towards him, he tried to think what to say. She smiled pleasantly as she came closer but his tongue seemed to be fixed to the roof of his mouth.
    She broke the ice herself.‘Aye, Henry. You’re busy, I see.’
    ‘Aye.’ He couldn’t leave it at that and suddenly he found himself laying down the heavy mallet and saying, ‘Not so busy I canna give you a hand.’
    ‘I’m nae needing a hand. I just need a puckle sprigs o’ parsley for the cook.’
    He still couldn’t let the opportunity slip. ‘Would you like to meet me after supper the night? We could go for a walk.’
    She let out a great roar of laughter.‘Me … walk wi’ you?’
    Stung, he demanded, ‘What’s wrong wi’ me?’
    ‘You’re nae even the height o’ tuppence and you’re still a bairn.’ Having cut a bunch of parsley, she drew her skirts away from him and stalked off, still chuckling.
    Henry resumed his task, bedding the new posts in all the quicker because of the force behind the mallet strokes. Only his pride had