Promises to Keep by Malcolm Macdonald

Author:Malcolm Macdonald [Malcolm Macdonald]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Severn House Publishers
Published: 2012-07-31T00:00:00+00:00

Wednesday, 13 February 1963

‘De bad feelin’ ’twix’ Brer Fox en Mr Dog start right dar, en hits bin agwine on twel now ey ain’t git in smellin’ distuns er one er n’er widout dey’s a row.’

And so ended the first chapter. Willard snapped the book shut and said, ‘Waaal . . . yo’ t’ink we gwine stick wid it, son? Dis am yo’ heritage, too.’

Virgil yawned and stretched out in the bed, already thinking of the two creamy thighs and the red-rosette garters that would ease him off to sleep in the traditional way for a fourteen-year-old boy. ‘Ef’n yew read it, paw,’ he said. ‘Me? Ah jess stumble and fall right dar.’ He touched a finger at the top of the binding.

Willard kissed his own fingertips, touched the boy’s forehead, and rose to go.

‘Willard?’ Virgil asked in his normal voice. ‘Is it easy to build a model?’

‘Sure. You just buy the kit and follow the instructions and—’

‘No. A model of places.’

‘Oh – like an architectural model. We do it all the time – you’ve seen them. Good night now.’

‘Yes, but a model of a place, not a building – like a model of all the fields and woods and roads and stuff round here.’

Willard’s hand fell from the doorjamb. ‘Around here?’

‘Yes. From the valley up to beyond Bluebell Wood.’

He came back and stood by the bedside. ‘Have you actually seen one like that?’

The boy stared out of the window. ‘I just wondered if it would be easy to make.’

‘But what put the idea into your head? You have seen one, haven’t you.’

Virgil swallowed heavily. ‘I promised. It’s a secret.’

His father laughed. ‘Oh! You mean the one over at the Findlaters! Did they show it to you? They told me it was top secret.’

‘Jasmine showed me. She made me swear not to tell anyone.’

‘Well, your secret’s safe with me, son. And – to answer your question – yes, it’s not at all difficult. As a matter of fact, I have one pretty much like the one you saw over there in the cottage. I’ll bring it home tomorrow.’ He reached out a hand. ‘Sand in the right eye? No – you’re too old for that.’

Virgil grinned shyly. ‘You can do it if you want.’

So Willard did: ‘Sand in the right eye . . . sand in the left eye . . . shed a little tear . . . here’s mud in your eye!’

Out in the kitchen, he said to Marianne, ‘Well, hot diggety dog! I jess knew’d it!’

‘Is that unusual?’ she asked.

‘Alex and Faith – I knew it. Remember when Cynegonde went on and on and on about that crop-spraying plane?’

Marianne chuckled. ‘And you tried to shut her up!’

‘Yes – bi-i-ig mistake. I could see Alex looking at me – clicketty-click – but I never thought he’d—’ He broke off and paced up and down, thinking.

Marianne completed the train: ‘Never thought he’d guess what you’re planning here?’

Willard murmured: ‘But . . . a scale model already? He can’t have got that far into .

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