by Jude Thomas
‘What? Good lord, Ogilvy, I cannot believe – you surely don’t think –?’ Edwin pales with consternation.
‘My dear fellow, my fear is that you are employing emotion instead of common sense. Therefore, I urge you to consider your motives and think long and hard about them, and the potential outcomes. I beg you to not do anything for the time being. Nothing at all. Do not engage with this boy. Just think about things logically for a couple of weeks, then let us review the situation and we shall work it through clearly and without prejudice.’
James Ogilvy is sceptical: he is a lawyer. But he must do his best by his client – it is firmly established that this will be Edwin’s status – and examine the full legal and moral obligations. He will not be rushed, and postpones Edwin’s case for as long as he can.
The discussions are long and thorough. It is decided that Edwin will approach the lad’s guardians under the guise of offering educational opportunities by way of a charity. It is not a new concept and it has a series of checks and balances. If all goes to plan he will at least be able to appease his own mind. James has advised him to tread very carefully and to accept that he is not his brother’s keeper.
‘Nevertheless,’ Edwin has responded, ‘there is something compelling about the boy – something very intelligent and far-seeing, something that should be cultured. For some reason I not only feel somewhat accountable for that rogue’s doings – yes, I know, I know, it may not be so – but I feel that here is an opportunity for me to contribute to the education of this unfortunate boy. For why, if he is well cared for at home, would he be roaming the streets vying for a coin?’
‘Roaming the streets – are you sure, Eddie? Perhaps the lad’s just doing it for a lark. In any case, proceed with caution. Be as truthful as you can without revealing your hand. Remove your feelings from the matter, treat it with respect and with objectivity. This will give us all more time to make covert enquiries and establish a definite connection. You may gain information you wish you had never known; you may regret the whole exercise. You must proceed cautiously and I shall have your legal posterior covered at each step. One thing is clear, thank goodness – is that you will not flee to England to seek Alton out and force a duel!’
‘Not at this stage,’ Edwin mutters. ‘No, no, don’t be alarmed, my dear James, that is not what I intend. For you are quite right, quite right, the most important thing is to work quietly on the plan and its various steps of withdrawal or advancement.’
And so Edwin waits for the next time he has the opportunity to confront the boy, apparently still in partnership with an older one. And this native boy will be his initial target.
‘A carriage, sir?’
‘No, not this time.’ He addresses the older lad. ‘It’s just that, er – ’
‘Mister?’
‘What is your name, boy?’
‘Tama, sir.’
‘Well, Master Tama, I wish to speak with your sidekick, this young man. Good afternoon.’ He directs himself to Billie. ‘I think you may be someone I know. That is – ahem – I wonder if you could be the son of my friend Mr – Mr Bowles of Royal Terrace.’
Damnation! How did he ever think of such a concocted name? Stick to the script you fool! Edwin admonishes himself.
‘Bowles? No, sir, never heard of him at all,’ responds Billie with a shrug and a cocked head.
Edwin’s heart thumps as he again sees the mannerisms. ‘I may have been mistaken. But please, would you tell me your name?’
‘Billie Frost, sir. And I’m doing nothing wrong, sir.’
‘Indeed not, I was just curious. Then, may I ask, Master Frost,’ Edwin rushes on to his own chagrin, ‘I wonder if you know the, er, the Hepburn family who live at Heriot Row?’ They are his cousins and Edwin is desperate to keep the conversation going along family lines. But he is making a complete pig’s ear of it – he didn’t mean to say any of this! He was going to take things very slowly, but has forgotten his lines entirely.
‘I would never know anyone from the big houses up the Rise, sir.’ Billie is getting annoyed, but her upbringing tells her not to be rude, especially to ladies and gentlemen.
‘Where do you live, young Master Frost?’
‘Maclaggan Street, sir, not far from here. But you must excuse me, I see some more chances coming my way, so ta-ta.’
Billie turns and rejoins her cohort Tama, whose only comment is, ‘Be careful Bill, ae. You know what some gents are like – maybe looking for – tapu.’
Edwin stares after Billie, then collects himself. He had schooled himself on the procedure – that is, to ask more about the lad’s home – but hadn’t expected to be dismissed summarily. No matter, he had some information: Maclaggan Street. That hole of iniquity! That hotbed of pestilence! Always damp, like a sewer, with a stream running down it in winter; what a rotten place to bring up a child. But he shall try again at the next opportunity.
Billie is warier this time. When she opens the door to Edwin who says, ‘Ah, Master Billy, just the chap,’ Tama also watches carefully. At eight, Bill is still the youngest and most boys look out for each other.
Edwin proceeds. ‘Now, please do not be afraid – I fear I may have startled you last time? But I only wish to ask if I might meet with your parents at some time. I do believe we might have a connection.’
‘My guardians, sir, are good people and wouldn’t want a fright,’ says Billie firmly. ‘I won’t have you frightening Mother Meg or Alf. Best if you tell me directly what you want to say.’
Edwin is torn between amusement and the wish to not make more of a mess of things. ‘Then, Master Billy, would you please ask your guardians, your Mother Meg and Alf, if I may call on them sometime regarding a matter – a matter that could be to their benefit. Here is my card. Please tell them that I am genuine, and do tell them there is nothing to be concerned about, nothing at all.’
Chapter Twenty
Meg is uneasy. Why would a gentleman who takes a carriage from his office in Rattray Street wish to speak with the likes of them? She shall not trouble Alf at present, but she questions Billie several times to no avail, other than to be told that this Mr Northey firstly asked if she knew someone up the Rise and now wishes to visit them with regard to a matter of benefit.
Meg takes her time, but when she enlightens Alf she concludes by stating, ‘I suppose it can do no harm. We have nothing to hide and we live in a public house, so if this gent wishes to sup here we cannot stop him. But I cannot meet with him until late evening, or maybe mid-morning for five minutes if I ask ahead. Let him see how he goes with that.’
And so Edwin finally arrives at the Abbeyleix and is ushered into the private parlour. He presents himself as prepared: not to seem superior, nor too servile, and ready for a raft of reactions. ‘Just be yourself, Northey,’ James Ogilvy had counselled. ‘You are an agreeable enough chap.’
‘Madam and sir, Mr and Mrs Maguire, firstly please let me thank you for allowing me to present myself in person.’
Meg and Alf exchange a silent note that although this gentleman is far from the usual patrons or individuals who visit here, his deferential introduction is not in the least patronising or awkward. Well, a little hesitant maybe. They know from experience the devious ways of most tricksters; let Mr Northey continue with his say.
‘Please let me assure you that nothing is amiss, nothing at all. You have my card and can easily check on my credentials, which show me to represent Northey Solicitors. Your young lad will have told you that we have met on occasions in Rattray Street, where I have observed his intelligence.’ Edwin does not want to overplay it, and his audience gives no hint of their own impressions.
‘And so I am here today to introduce an organisation set up for the benefit of boys. Oh, please do not take offence.’ He senses a slight jib. ‘I am in no way suggesting your boy is in need of benefit in the usual sense, no indeed. But – ahem – may I continue to set out the scope of my client’s organisation?’
The Maguire
s imperceptibly affirm, never taking their eyes off Edwin. They have assessed the introduction and are watchful of body movements and facial expressions. The words are not so important, initially.
‘Thank you and – ahem – I shall begin. Firstly, I must ask of you that our discussions will remain strictly confidential, and that is on both our sides. Therefore, if you allow me to proceed, or if you do not wish me to, I must ask that for the time being, until it is agreed otherwise, this is to be discussed with no soul other than between yourselves and myself. What do you say?’
Alf and Meg look briefly at each other and give a slight nod.
‘And so – ahem – to continue. My client is a charitable organisation, which is, of course, legally sound and scrupulously administered.’ This is what he has instructed James to proceed with, should the initial stages prove positive. ‘Its mission is, and I quote: “To educate and train boys from families in straitened circumstances, to reach and maintain their full potential and become good and useful members of society.” ‘Therefore,’ Edwin looks up from his papers. ‘this charity – ’
‘Charity indeed!’ Meg bristles. ‘We don’t want charity, thank you very much! We do well enough and there’re many souls that need charity more than us – isn’t that right, Alf? We’re not in the poorhouse yet. Charity, my foot!’
Alf nods and shakes his head and nods again and reaches over to calm Meg.
‘I do beg your pardon. Let me explain that in this case the word “charity” may sound misleading. It seeks only the best – it is not a handout, not a profit-making organisation. It is run by trustees who are morally sound and whose focus is only on education. That is what I mean by “charity” in this case.’ Edward draws a deep breath; he realises he has almost been holding it.
‘Proceed,’ says Meg coolly.
‘I thank you indeed. So – ahem – to continue further. The charity – or shall we just call it the organisation? Yes, much better. The organisation wishes to remain absolutely anonymous, just as our discussions must remain confidential. Are you agreed?’
Again a cool nod.
‘So, to continue further. The organisation offers a scholarship for chosen boys, where such a boy shows above average intelligence and moreover, a character and disposition that is not so easily classified. It goes beyond intelligence. So, if you will allow me – ’ Edward hears himself tending to pomposity. ‘I have discovered – indeed you must know – that there is something very unusual about your boy’s intelligence that speaks of the extraordinary. Extraordinary indeed. I would therefore be most grateful if you would consider my promoting your young charge for the scholarship process. Now, I am not saying at this time that anything is definite; there will some tests that need to be undertaken, tests of an academic and intelligence ratio, to assess the placement.’
Edwin feels he has stated his case well, but Meg is outraged.
‘Placement? Where, indeed, would you be wanting to “place” our Billie? You can be sure we will not have the child taken from home, taken from us. Oh no, never, never!’
‘Indeed no, my wording was clumsy, I do beg your pardon.’ Edwin admonishes himself to slow down – to not put up details, to not speak in a way that may be misconstrued. ‘No, no, please be assured, my dear Mr and Mrs Maguire, that Billy would not be taken away. Certainly not. I only mean to convey that opportunity shall be to gain placement in another school where the scholarship lies, so that Billy might study in more depth. It will be here in Dunedin; of that you can be certain.’
Meg draws in her umbrage. Alf has not made a sound. ‘It is very true that sh – the child soaks up schooling like a sponge and is always reading and seeking knowledge,’ states Meg. Alf nods vigorously.
‘You don’t say? And what does he read mostly, may I ask?’ Edwin resists the temptation to lean forward. Meg is starting to thaw, although she remains upright.
‘At school just her journals I expect, but here at home, sh – Billie reads the papers as much as possible to our Alf. Yes, the Otago Daily Times is a well-read paper here, sir. Unusual for a young’un, even at eight years old, but this began at three. Not interested in rag books like others, and what could we do to stop the child! Alfie would read a few lines, Billie would repeat them, then Alf would read them again and make an intentional mistake, then directly he would be corrected! After that it was on to reading whole paragraphs, insisting that Alf teach her new words. By six she was onto reading whole sections. Then before you could say “Jack Robinson”, she was reading it alone with very few stumbles. I am sure only a portion of it was understood – not only being big words, but long-winded rubbish at times – but that child kept pressing on. Gracious, such a one!’
Meg stops herself, aware that she has rattled on, much of it the suppressed pride she feels about her ward. Previously only she and Alf acknowledge it to themselves, for who else wants to know the wearying details about others’ precious darlings and how clever they are?
Edwin is rigid with interest, but endeavours to maintain a calm front. ‘Reading from the ODT at four years old? Upon my word, extraordinary, quite extraordinary. This keen characteristic shines through, indeed, from my observations. This is the very sort of boy whom I, we – that is, my client, would wish to consider for this scholarship. But let us not race ahead! As I said, this must be taken step by step. And now, Mr and Mrs Maguire, there is another thing that must be considered. So I would like – ’
But Meg intervenes. ‘You will excuse me, sir, but I must take my leave – I had only ten minutes allowed for this interview and am expected back in the kitchen.’ She prepares to go. ‘Although you may wish to stay a while to share a porter with Alf, but you must not upset him, is that clear? His nerves are affected and you must not agitate him.’ Meg would not usually talk to a gentleman in this way, let alone a legal gentleman, but where Alf is concerned she is fiercely protective.
‘Indeed, madam, and I thank you very much for hearing me out thus far.’ Edwin rises and assists Meg. No chance to inveigle further information on the child’s background, but steady, old boy, time enough. ‘Mr Maguire, sir, a whisky or a porter?’
Alf nods at the two suggestions and the proprietor pours his standard Scotch and chaser. Edwin likes this chap, solid working class, and with a way of expressing himself by facial expressions and hand movements. Alf gestures to his favourite table, north-facing to soak in all the available sun, and removes the Times from it.
Edwin sees an opportunity. ‘I say, should you like me to read to you –?’ And immediately knows he has overstepped the mark. ‘Ah, I do so apologise. I wager you still read yourself very well?’ He meets Alf’s smiling eyes. ‘And your lad reads to you and you just take it all in, so as to encourage him? I like you, sir, I like you indeed! If I had children, I would hope to be such a father.’ And he fervently hopes that these comments are not taken the wrong way.
Alf is not concerned. He likes the man – genuine, although somewhat nervous. Perhaps he just has a nervous disposition; it doesn’t appear to be sinister or cunning.
Three more long weeks tick over before Edwin manages to secure another such meeting. He gets straight to the point after the initial pleasantries and is less nervous.
‘At our last meeting I referred to the possibility of a scholarship. What are your thoughts on the matter?’ Meg indicates they are interested in more information and he proceeds. ‘Forgive this intrusive line of questioning – that is, getting a little more background information – but next I must ask about your boy’s background prior to your becoming guardians. It is just a formality, but one which is important,’ Edwin holds his breath: Please Lord, don’t let me sound condescending.
The Maguires are not ignorant. They know that there is such a thing as scholarships, although no person they know has received one. They have little knowledge of education here in New Zealand, other than the fact it is not compulsory. Nor is it free, except in the missionary schools for natives. But why else would they have emigrated other than
to bestow on their future children – and now it is only Billie – the very best of every opportunity? They have agreed, after nights of discussion in their own way, that if this so-called scholarship that has landed out of the blue into their lap can lead their Billie into the best path, they must take advantage of it.
They know that checks will be made on their own authenticity as guardians and Meg tells the practiced story of Billie’s appearance into their little world. Tells of a young lady’s plight with a new baby and how she seemed loath to reconstruct her past. Tells of the furs and the fine boots. Tells of how she was Eveline Frost, so called, who named the infant Billie. And then, quietly, tells Edwin of the tragedy that claimed the mother’s life and their pledge to bring the child up as their own.
‘Fire, fire,’ whispers Alf, but not in distress.
Edwin fixes on the name Eveline Frost and quietly records it. He at last has a clue about the mother that he may be able to pursue without distressing the Maguires. He records names, dates and milestones and systematically proceeds with his proposal regarding the future education of the remarkable child.
‘He will be educated by outstanding teachers so that when he matriculates and goes on to university he is in front of the pack, so to speak, and able to get on in the world.’ Meg and Alf gasp loudly at the astounding idea of university.
Edwin reacts and pauses. ‘Ahem – but I am getting ahead of myself, please do excuse me. Today I only wished to talk about the concept of the scholarship and a new school, and your permission to take the matter to a legal basis and the next step. At this point are we agreed?’
Alf reaches out and shakes Edwin’s hand most vigorously, but Meg is slower in rising. She takes Alf’s arm and he pats her hand as she looks squarely at Edwin. ‘All well and good,’ she says. ‘Should our Billie prove to meet your conditions we should be pleased to talk about it further.