Mr Doubler Begins Again

by Seni Glaister

  The rain had been relentless, thundering noisily against the roof tiles during the night and continuing to drive hard against the north-facing windows of Mirth Farm throughout the morning. Small pools of water had collected on a number of windowsills where the old wooden frames had been unable to prevent the water from finding gaps to breach, and a wide puddle lay just inside the back door where rainwater shed by Doubler’s boots and coat had pooled.

  Doubler put his still-damp raincoat on over his waxed jacket once again and, pulling the hood tight, rushed across the yard to carry on with his work there. Despite the torrent, he stopped to raise his eyes to the dark sky above him, giving thanks for this cold, cleansing rain, which would wash Mirth Farm clean and help him prepare the land for the year ahead.

  Doubler was hopeful, and with hope came an appetite for new projects. The first of these was beginning to take shape and was already starting to fill in the blanks of his future. He had begun to experiment, and having taken delivery of five sacks of barley in exchange for a single bottle of Mirth Farm gin, he had since spread the wet grain out to germinate. Now, cocooned in the shed, with the noise of the raindrops amplified by the corrugated-iron roof and further by the cavernous space below, he was admiring the green malt and pondering the list of steps he would need to take to turn this into something altogether more interesting. As he contemplated the mess on the floor all around him, he became aware that the noise of the rain hammering on the roof above him had been replaced by the sound of banging. He followed the noise round to the side of the garage to find Midge, a yellow rain hat framing her face, banging a nail to join two pieces of wood.

  ‘Oh, hello!’ she said brightly from under her hood, as if undertaking a DIY project on somebody else’s property without permission was the most normal thing in the world. ‘I thought you were at the shelter this morning. I was hoping to get this done before you got back. It was meant to be a surprise.’ Midge grinned happily while attempting to dry her face with her sodden coat sleeve.

  ‘I am surprised, so that part of your plan worked,’ said Doubler, studying the embryonic project in front of her. Not even a skeleton had emerged, just a pile of pre-cut pieces of wood and some two-by-four planks, which Midge was now wielding with considerable ease and confidence.

  ‘Don’t tell me. Your dad liked carpentry.’

  ‘Actually, no. This is all me. It’s something I quite enjoy as a hobby.’

  ‘Your talents never cease to amaze me. I don’t suppose you’d care to let me in on the secret, would you?’

  ‘Ah, I thought you’d have guessed immediately. I’m building you a chicken house. Not from scratch,’ she said apologetically. ‘I bought a kit. But I’m going to build a chicken run round it so you don’t have to have the birds free range if you’re worried about them pecking your potatoes.’

  ‘That’s probably the least of my worries right now.’ Doubler’s voice trailed off. ‘Tell me, do you do this a lot?’

  ‘Assemble chicken runs? Heavens, no. This is my first.’

  ‘No, I mean build projects on other people’s land without consulting them beforehand.’

  ‘Ah yes, I rather skipped that obstacle. I spoke to Mum about it and she felt that when it came to the crunch, you’d find a heap of last-minute reasons not to keep chickens. She figured it might be better to take the bull by the horns. We concocted this plan together, or more accurately, this is Mum’s plan. I’m just the labourer, working to her specifications.’

  ‘That sounds plausible. And neither of you thought a quick chat with me might be polite?’

  ‘Oh, absolutely. We both agreed that we should definitely talk to you first, but then we reasoned ourselves out of it. We decided the risks outweighed the benefits. We figured you’d have less of a reason to object if the henhouse were already assembled.’

  While they spoke, Midge consulted a diagram and continued to work on the frame of the small house.

  ‘It’s an ark,’ she said nonchalantly.

  ‘Good. If it continues to rain for forty days and forty nights, I shall be able to float away in it.’

  ‘Not that kind of ark. At least, I don’t think so. Besides, if the valley floods, you’ll be fine up here, I should think. You might as well stay put. I don’t know where you think you’d go in an ark.’

  ‘True,’ agreed Doubler with a shrug of his shoulders.

  ‘Providing you don’t mind living on potatoes.’

  ‘Heavens, no, I wouldn’t mind in the least. I’ve been living on potatoes for decades.’

  Midge reached for another piece of plywood and slid it into position before picking up her hammer and tapping another nail into place. The henhouse was starting to take shape.

  ‘And at the rate you’re working, I shall have eggs to eat by the time the rains stop.’

  ‘That’s the spirit. Rather than focusing on the fact that I’m trespassing, focus on the goals in sight. I’m sorry if you think we’re taking liberties, but Mum got very excited when I suggested you ought to keep chickens and the plan just seemed to develop from there. We considered converting one of your existing buildings to make room for hens, but Mum felt it would be a much bigger concern to you if we started moving things around.’

  ‘You really don’t have to apologize. I’m actually very touched. Honestly.’

  Midge looked up and smiled, reaching for another piece of wood and popping a couple of nails between her lips while she lined up the next addition to the structure.

  ‘I miss your mum terribly,’ said Doubler, out of the blue, his voice almost inaudible under the noise of the rain drumming on the roof above.

  Midge spoke through one side of her mouth, the nails still held in place. ‘I know you do. I think she misses being up here, too. She certainly worries about you. This plan cheered her up no end. She thinks the hens will be great company for you.’

  ‘I’m sure she’s right. I’m sure you’re both right. Although, I shall be expecting an awful lot from them if they’re to step into your mother’s shoes.’

  Midge removed the two nails from her mouth while she thought about this. ‘Nobody is expecting them to take the place of Mum, but still, it must get very lonely up here sometimes.’

  ‘It used to. I seem to have no end of visitors these days. It’s all I can do to find five minutes’ peace.’

  ‘Sorry,’ said Midge, as she worked. Though she didn’t look apologetic at all.

  ‘It’s wonderful having you here. You remind me of her so much.’

  ‘Thank you. I shall take that as a compliment, especially given that you think so highly of her.’

  ‘Oh, I do. I think very highly of both of you. You’re both amazing.’

  Doubler consulted the plans on the ground and found the next piece of wood Midge would need. ‘Here you go,’ he said, just as she reached for it.

  ‘You know, Midge, there’s an awful lot to do up here. There are the potatoes, of course, and the housework. It’s a little bit too much for me, if I’m honest, so if you’re ever stuck for work or need a bit of cash, I could find you something to do at Mirth Farm.’

  Midge laughed. ‘Bless you, Doubler. You’re very sweet.’

  Doubler looked embarrassed.

  Midge reassured him with a bright smile, while explaining, ‘But I already have a job.’

  ‘You do? I’m sorry. How silly of me. I rather thought that as you were free to pop up and take on this sort of project, you had a bit of time on your hands. I am so grateful for all your help. I just didn’t want to take advantage by not paying you.’

  ‘I understand. No need to apologize. No, I normally work full time, but I’ve dropped down to three days a week so I can spend a bit more time looking after Mum. I’m keeping an eye on her place too.’

  ‘You’re an angel. Helping me out can’t have been part of the arrangement. This really is above and beyond, you know.’

  ‘It’s not what I envisaged, but I made no fixed plans. I wasn’t sure how I’d be of help t
o Mum and I expected her back home by now, so I thought I’d be with her there, helping out. But with her still at hospital, I’ve more time than I expected. And as far as helping her is concerned, it seems that looking after you is her greatest priority.’

  ‘Gosh. That’s kind. So, what sort of work do you do? Something practical, I imagine,’ he guessed, as Midge wriggled some pieces of wood into place to get a snug fit for the roof.

  ‘I work as a solicitor.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Doubler, unable to think of a more intelligent response.

  ‘I’m a partner at a firm down in the town. There are four of us. We’ve worked together for a number of years and they’re a good bunch. They couldn’t have been more understanding when I said I needed to take a bit of time off.’

  Doubler spoke while he processed this information. ‘You are a constant surprise to me, Midge. I had no idea you had such an important job. I feel even more embarrassed that you’re helping me now.’

  ‘Help comes in all sorts of shape and sizes. I love doing things with my hands and I don’t get that much of an opportunity. This is fun for me. I suppose you assumed that as Mum is a cleaner, I would have done something similar?’

  ‘No, of course not. And I don’t think of your mum as a cleaner. Not that there’s anything wrong with being a cleaner, of course,’ he stammered, mortified that he had indeed assumed Midge’s work would be manual, not cerebral.

  ‘Your mum must be very proud of you!’ Doubler exclaimed, as though the thought had only just occurred to him.

  ‘I suppose she is, yes.’

  ‘But she doesn’t show off about you,’ he said, wondering out loud why not.

  ‘No?’

  ‘No. I had no idea that you had such a successful career. I am surprised she didn’t mention it.’

  ‘It doesn’t surprise me in the least. She wouldn’t show off, would she? That’s not really her style. And I know that she doesn’t believe that my accomplishments are her accomplishments.’

  ‘Ah, but there’s a contradiction within that.’

  ‘Is there?’

  ‘Yes, if she really felt your accomplishments were not of her making, she would be able to talk about them without showing off. If she were a boastful woman, she would only be able to talk about them if she felt your success was a reflection of her. And vice versa.’

  ‘If you say so,’ said Midge, sounding unconvinced.

  ‘I do say so. She must be extremely proud of you and doesn’t want to show off. That seems likely.’

  ‘You might be right. She’s a very humble woman. I don’t think she even thinks it is possible that her genetics could have contributed to what I have become. Of course, the way I see it, she was a huge role model for me.’ Midge looked at Doubler, her eyes shining with pride. ‘She worked incredibly hard; she made a number of sacrifices.’ Her voice trailed off as she thought of her mother’s many struggles. ‘I think she thinks of herself as an evolutionary stepping stone. Her role in life was simply to enable me.’

  Doubler nodded. He could imagine this of Mrs Millwood. But he was still puzzled. ‘So what do you think is her reason for keeping your success quiet from me? We talk about everything. Our conversations are very open. But she’s never breathed a word about you being a solicitor. A solicitor in the town no less! And it’s not like I haven’t needed one of those from time to time over the past few years. I’m baffled.’

  ‘Do you think it might be out of respect for you?’

  ‘Respect?’

  ‘She knows your children are a disappointment to you. Perhaps she doesn’t want you to feel further let down.’

  ‘But my children’s careers aren’t a disappointment to me! My son is wealthy and successful. I have absolutely no idea what his purpose is, but he seems to have achieved financial success and he is very pleased with himself. My daughter has not had a career, but that has been her choice. She married a man with traditional values.’

  ‘Traditional values?’ asked Midge, her eyebrows raised as she searched Doubler’s face for explanation.

  ‘Wrong words. Woefully outdated ideas. That might not be what I wanted for her, but she has made a series of personal choices that have led her to her current role. I am not disappointed in my children’s careers. But of course I have been a great disappointment to them in a number of different ways.’

  ‘I’m sorry you struggle with them. It must have been hard raising them on your own, and harder still not having a bond that reflects that effort.’

  ‘Much of the raising was done by their mother. By the time she was gone, all I had to do were the finishing touches, but even so it appears that I didn’t do a very good job.’

  ‘You kept them fed and watered, and you got them out into the adult world. That is the job. That’s all you have to do. And to tell you the truth, it doesn’t matter how much love there is, children are always pre-programmed to abandon their parents. By not being that close to them, you’ve probably saved yourself a bunch of other disappointments.’

  ‘That’s one way of looking at it, I suppose. It’s a shame, though, that it went wrong. I’d like to have been a better father. They just never gave me a chance. The minute Marie went the way she did, they blamed me. Of course, they couldn’t blame themselves – that would be self-destructive – but I’ve always wondered why they couldn’t blame her.’

  ‘Too painful for them?’

  ‘Possibly. But actually, Julian just decided it was my fault without any real investigation into the cause. He believed I drove her to do what she did and he’s never allowed any room for doubt.’

  Midge responded in a matter-of-fact voice, ‘Our parents make us. That’s the truth of it. We either like where we’ve come from or we resent where we’ve come from. But we can’t change it. We can embrace it or we can turn our backs on it. Your children blamed you and turned their backs on you and that’s probably to protect themselves from greater pain. I think Mum probably saw your pain and felt she didn’t want to draw attention to your differences. She and I have always been very close.’

  ‘Julian is embarrassed by me. He believes he should have been entitled to a better start in life than the son of a potato farmer. It offends him.’

  ‘That’s a very harsh judgement. I can’t imagine being ashamed of my mother’s work. I’m proud of her. Mum didn’t have the opportunities I had, but she is very, very bright and she demonstrates that in a number of ways. Sometimes I hate the fact she goes out and cleans houses. I think she deserves more. But the truth is, she is an independent woman. She has raised her family and held it together despite Dad’s early death. And besides, she likes looking after you.’

  ‘We’re a good team, your mum and I.’ Doubler thought some more. ‘So, tell me, when I have a legal problem, is it you she consults? She always says she’ll ask an expert.’

  ‘Me or a lawyer friend of hers. I suppose she’s got plenty of people she could ask.’

  ‘It’s just I have some papers I was going to show her the day she became ill. I’ve been meaning to tackle the issue, but to my shame, I’ve done absolutely nothing with them . . .’

  ‘What sort of papers?’

  ‘Peele, the potato farmer who owns the land around mine, has written to me a number of times. He frightens me a little bit, but I’m not sure why. He wants to buy this place and he’s used quite a lot of threatening language . . .’ Doubler trailed off, looking embarrassed.

  Midge was frowning and, guessing why, Doubler pre-empted her objection. ‘I suppose this is the sort of thing I should share with Julian or Camilla. It seems silly that I haven’t, but I have a feeling that Julian might be behind the offer. It’s only a suspicion, but I seem to remember that Julian and Peele play golf together, and I’ve noticed that Julian takes an unhealthy interest in the worth of this place. I sound like a paranoid old fool, but it’s entirely feasible they’re in cahoots. Would you have a look? Would that be a huge imposition?’

  A deepening frown furrowed Midge’s fo
rehead. ‘It would be my pleasure.’ She looked up at the darkening sky. ‘Looks like the rain is coming through again. Let me finish up here. You go and put the kettle on and find us something to eat while I work up an appetite. And then let’s have a look together.’

  Doubler turned quickly and headed indoors. His mind raced anxiously through the contents of his pantry, and by the time he reached the kitchen, he was already focused on impressing Midge with the best possible version of a Mirth Farm lunch.

  Chapter 33

  Doubler’s relationship with daybreak had shifted. When Mrs Millwood had first stopped visiting, the hours after awakening each morning had been as fallow as his winter fields and as fruitless, too. But now he could rely upon his daily updates from Mrs Millwood, he clutched onto the promise of the next call with such a tight grip that nothing else could force its way to the front of his mind. After each call, he felt temporarily sated and could undertake other distractions that required more of him, but in the early hours of each day, his anxiety could only be quelled with physical labour.

  Doubler had always been a hard worker, but now he awoke with a burning energy that was almost impossible to vanquish even with labour. He was up at first light to pace the fields furiously. This morning, he had woken with single malt whisky on his mind and had carved out a pocket of time to sketch out the requirements for his latest project. He was certain that he needn’t use any newfangled equipment, reasoning that anything good enough for a fifteenth-century monk was probably good enough for him, but still, his list was extensive and he wondered whose help he might need to call upon. He worked on the project urgently, but then, everything he did, whether baking or polishing or stacking bottles, was fuelled by an unprecedented gravity that delivered such great efficiencies that all he actually achieved was to perpetuate the time during which he had nothing to do but wait.

  After his morning’s burst of activity, in which he achieved everything he had set out to achieve, he now sat, deflated once more, with his binoculars on his knees, a pile of unopened books beside him and the crossword puzzle already completed with the same joyless proficiency that had conspired to slow time to an agonizing crawl. When he compulsively raised the binoculars to his eyes, it wasn’t with the expectation of seeing anything new: he had looked a thousand times to no avail. But here was a car, edging slowly through the gate. And a quick flick of the binoculars to the left revealed a second vehicle following closely behind. He looked at the number plate of the leading car and wrote it hurriedly in the margins of the crossword, but even as he wrote it, he knew instinctively that this was the conclusion of a project, not part of something ongoing.