For Smiler, it was almost as though he were with his father, for they were both great ones for singing together. Because of this and also of what Albert had said, Smiler felt happier than he had done for a long time (although it was only a few days) and his troubles lifted because in the young there is a natural good balance of the emotions, and dark thoughts like stones sink from sight in the sparkling pool of the present.
But there was one moment when Smiler realized that Mr Jimmy Jago had his dark troubles, too. Once he stopped where they could get a good view of distant Dartmoor. When Smiler said that he would like to go there some day Jimmy, without looking at him, said in an almost angry voice, ‘Aye, lad, it’s a wild, beautiful place – but there’s many there now who could wish they’d never seen it, could wish they were a million miles away from it.’
Smiler knew at once what he meant.
He said, ‘You mean the people in prison there? In Princetown prison?’
Jimmy turned and looked at him and said, ‘ What else would I mean?’
When they drove on it was some time before Jimmy’s good spirits came back. But back they did come. An hour later they dropped down into the valley of the River Taw, which had its source high up on distant Dartmoor and flowed to the sea at Barnstaple and out into the wide estuary to meet its sister river the Torridge.
They crossed the river by an ancient stone bridge and then the road began to twist and climb along the sides of a small valley through which ran a wide brook. The sides of the valley were patched with woodland and stubble fields and, high over a plantation of firs, Smiler saw three buzzards wheeling and soaring.
They climbed away from the valley, lost sight of it, and then came back to it down a steep hill. At the bottom of the hill was a long, low farm-house, slate-roofed, with white-washed stone walk. To one side of it were stables, two large stone barns and, beyond them, green meadows and patches of woodland flanking the sides of the twisting brook.
Mr Jago drove through the open farm gate into the wide gravel space before the house. As the car was pulled up Scampi jumped from Smiler’s lap through the open car-door window and disappeared around the corner of the house.
Jimmy Jago grinned. ‘He’s off to see his missus. Travellin’ man is Scampi but he’s always glad to get back.’
As Smiler and Jimmy got out of the car the front door of the farm opened and a woman stepped out into the wide porchway. She was a tall, very plump woman of middle age. She came out to greet them like a galleon under full sail, moving for all her bulk as though her feet only just touched the ground. Her hair was red, a tight mop of close curls, and she wore dangling earrings made from silver coins. The ample folds of her long green dress flapped in the valley breeze. All over the dress was a close design of birds, animals, flowers, signs of the zodiac and other symbols. (During all the time Smiler was to be at the farm he was always discovering some new symbol or bird or animal on the dress. In fact, he sometimes had the feeling that the whole design changed every time she wore it.) Her plump face was jolly and creased with a smile and she had soft brown eyes dark as the waters of a woodland pool.
She cried, ‘Jimmy!’ The next moment she had clamped her arms around him and – though he was a big man – it seemed to Smiler that he momentarily disappeared into the green, multi-patterned folds of her dress. She smacked two great kisses on his face and then released him.
Jimmy stepped back, straightened his boater, and said, ‘ Surprised to see me, Ma?’
‘And why should I be? The news was on the wind an hour ago. Yin got it first.’ Her voice like herself was large and jolly.
‘Yin,’ said Jimmy to Smiler, ‘ is Scampi’s wife. And this lady, Sammy, is my mother.’ Then to his mother he said, ‘ Meet Samuel Miles, Ma. He’s a friend of mine.’ Then to Smiler he said, ‘Sammy – the Duchess.’
Smiler held out his hand to the Duchess and said, ‘I’m very pleased to meet you, ma’am.’
The Duchess took his hand, shook it warmly and vigorously and said, ‘ Welcome to Bullaybrook Farm, boy.’ Then cocking her head to one side she eyed him closely and inquired. ‘ Libra? Am I right?’
Smiler, puzzled, said, ‘Please, ma’am?’
‘Your zodiac sign,’ said Jimmy. ‘When were you born?’
‘October the tenth,’
‘Then it is Libra,’ declared the Duchess. ‘And this is a good day for you, boy. Yes, a good day. Mercury’s not bothering your sign.’
‘I brought him along, Ma,’ said Jimmy, ‘because he’s in trouble. Thought you could sort him out a bit – meantime he’s got broad shoulders and good hands so he could be useful around the place.’
‘Why not? But remember, boy, for the next three days always go out of the house right foot first and come in left foot first.’ She gave him a wink and continued, ‘ Come on then – into the house.’
She turned and sailed before them and Smiler was careful – even though he felt that it was really a joke – to step over the threshold with his left foot first.
That night Smiler lay awake in bed for a long time sorting things out. He had been given a small room at the back of the house which looked across to the brook. There were four bedrooms and a bathroom on the first floor. Down below as you came through the porch door was a large hall, to one side of which was a dining-room and then a long farm kitchen, stone-flagged. On the other side was a large sitting-room with an open stone fireplace, the ceiling dark-raftered with oak beams: From there, now, Smiler could just catch the faint mumble of the voices of Jimmy and the Duchess as they talked. A picture of the room was clear in his mind.
Before the fire were a sofa and chintz-covered armchairs. A wide, circular table stood in the middle of the room and there was a big grandfather clock just inside the door. But what had interested Smiler most were the walls of the room. They were covered from floor to ceiling with pictures, framed photographs and old posters and prints, and every one of them had something to do with circuses or fairs. There were photographs of liberty horses, of tiger and lion acts, of performing elephants and seals, of high-wire and trampoline artistes, and trained dogs and pigeons. Some of the photographs were old and faded and some were quite new. The posters were past and present advertisements for travelling circuses, bold, garish colours flaming in the mellow light of the room. Over the fireplace itself was a large oil-painting showing the head and shoulders of a clown with a bulbous red nose, his face masked with traditional make-up, and on his head a battered old tophat. Even under the make-up a half-sad, half-comic expression showed through from the real man. At the foot of the picture was a little gold plaque with the words The Duke printed on it in black.
Smiler guessed – and later learned – that the Duke had been the Duchess’s husband. A lot of things had become clear to Smiler before he went to bed. While they were having tea in front of the fire Scampi had come into the room followed by another Siamese cat. The two had settled on the hearth and the other cat had started to groom Scampi. The other cat was Yin, Scampi’s wife, who was showing her pleasure at having him back from his travels with Jimmy.
Later, while the Duchess was getting the supper, Jimmy had taken Smiler up to his room and explained to him that the Duke had been dead for five years. The Duchess, who had travelled the circuses as a fortune teller, had retired to this farm where – apart from the normal farm work – she took care of a few retired or sick circus animals and boarded others when some circus acts were off the road. Her busiest time, Jimmy said, was just after Christmas when most circus acts took a rest before starting the Spring travels. At the moment there were very few animal boarders at the farm.
Jimmy said, ‘After you’ve had a chat with the Duchess tomorrow and if you want to stay and like animals there’s a job here until you get yourself sorted out. And –’ a distant look came into his eyes – ‘sorting things out sometimes takes a long time, as you’ll learn as you grow older. Now, unpack your gear, and then you can take a stroll round the place before supper. There’s over a h
undred acres, mostly wood and hill pasture and over a mile of the Bullay brook. But don’t go poking into any of the barns yet or the Ancients will take against you.’
‘The Ancients?’
‘You’ll meet ’em. I wouldn’t spoil your pleasure.’
Lying in bed now, seeing through his window the October sky stippled with bright stars, Smiler remembered how, coming back from his stroll around the brook meadows, he had walked into the farm kitchen and had found the Duchess and Jimmy talking to one another. But it was in a language that meant nothing to Smiler – though later he learned that it was Romany, for the Jago family were of true gypsy descent. Just for a moment, before they saw him, he had the feeling that an argument was going on between the two. The impression had been brief but the memory lingered with Smiler. He wondered now if the Duchess and Jimmy had their troubles just as he had.
Outside a little owl called to its mate and the sound of the brook over its stony bed came in a ceaseless murmur. Smiler began to drift off into sleep and, as he did so, he had a feeling of loneliness which could not be fought down. Behind him in. Scotland he had left all his friends … the face of Laura, his girl friend, floated before him, cheeks sun-tanned, dark hair lifting in the loch breeze and her deep brown eyes alive with laughter. How long would it be before he saw her again, how long before he could get out of trouble and do all the things he longed to do? And then his father … He sniffed, then tightened his lips against the misery that threatened to claim him. Five minutes later, when the little owl called again, Smiler was deep in sleep.
The next morning Smiler had breakfast in the farm kitchen. He had porridge, two fried eggs and four rashers of bacon, three slices of toast and marmalade, and a large mug of milky coffee, all of which he polished off with ease.
The Duchess nodded approvingly and said, ‘That’s the way I like to see a boy eat. Some folk treat their food as though it was going to bite them. Now then, come along with me and we’ll get you settled.’
She led the way out of the back door and across a yard to a little walled garden which lay behind one of the barns. There was a small green lawn in its centre and flower-beds all around. Standing on the lawn, almost covering it, was a tent. But it was no ordinary tent. Its shape reminded Smiler of illustrations he had seen in history books of the battlefield pavilions knights in armour had used. It was supported at its four corners by stout poles and its roof was domed, the canvas stretched over a cane framework. From a tall spiked flagpole on the top of the dome a red and white silk pennant flapped in the morning breeze. The tent canvas was striped in red, yellow and blue and over the half-open door was a wooden signboard inscribed:
THE DUCHESS OF MINTORO –
THE FUTURE AN OPEN BOOK
Patronized by Royalty
Seeing the look in Smiler’s eyes, the Duchess said, ‘Beautiful, isn’t it? I’ve spent more than half my life working in it. But not since the Duke died. Except for the odd friend now and then. Stands there all through the good weather.’
She went into the tent and Smiler, a bit nervous, followed her. She sat down at a cloth-covered table and nodded to him to sit opposite her. She draped a small silk scarf over her red curls and said, ‘Give me your hands, boy.’
Smiler held out his hands and the Duchess took first the left one and then the right one and studied their palms and after a while said, ‘Young hands, young heart and the future only just beginning to write itself there. But the lines are good, the signs are right. You’ll have your share of troubles and your share of happiness. At your age – even though I could tell you more – there’s no need to know more. But this I’ll tell you – you’ll never work inside four walls, but you’ll work with your hands and your head in a way no countryman or farmer does.’
‘I want to be a vet,’ said Smiler.
‘Maybe. Wanting comes before doing and the future is first shaped by the past and the present and then tidied up and fixed by the Great One.’ The Duchess released his hands and after a smile and a chuckle added, ‘And I’m glad to see you keep your nails clean, boy. That’s a good sign. Hands are the tools God gave us. We must respect His gift always. Now then, let’s get down to the present troubles and see what we can see.’
The Duchess reached out to a sidetable and lifted from it a small stand on which stood a crystal ball. It was covered by a silk cloth which she took off. She made Smiler put the palms of his hands about it for a few moments. Then she signalled to him to take his hands away, gave the crystal a quick wipe with the silk and began to stare in it, saying, ‘Keep quiet. Don’t interrupt, and shut your eyes.’
Obediently Smiler shut his eyes. Although he was not quite sure in his mind whether he really believed that the Duchess could read the future and the past, he decided that it would be bad manners to decide that she couldn’t. So, he began to think about Laura in Scotland, and his father who had missed his ship at Montevideo, and about the day which seemed so long ago now when all his troubles had begun back in Bristol, of the afternoon when an old lady had been jostled off the pavement by a fair-haired boy and her handbag stolen. A policeman seeing the act had gone after the thief. Rounding a corner he had spotted the boy running down the pavement and had finally caught him, still holding the handbag.
The boy had been Smiler, but it was not Smiler who had taken the bag. He had been standing round the corner when a boy he knew – with fair hair like himself, one Johnny Pickering, and no friend of his – came rushing past him and had tossed him the handbag, shouting ‘ Hide it!’ Smiler had been caught running away because he was running after Johnny Pickering to make him take the handbag back. But in the juvenile court the parents of Johnny Pickering had sworn that their son had been at home all afternoon and that Samuel Miles was lying to save himself. Smiler had been sent to an approved school but had quickly run away, determined to keep his freedom until his father came back on his boat, the Kentucky Master, and could sort things out for him. But Smiler’s father had failed to rejoin his boat at Montevideo and the police in Scotland had caught up with Smiler. He had had to go on the run again which was when he had met Jimmy Jago …
Smiler heard the Duchess’s voice coming to him, a dreamy far-away voice cutting into his thoughts.
‘I see water … nothing but water. No … now there’s a boat. A small boat and a girl in it. She’s brown-haired and holding – drat, the boat’s gone … Now then, what’s this? More water and another boat. But a big one this time and there’s a lot of men all lying around in the sun on the deck and one of them’s got something … Oh, yes – it’s a mouth-organ, and he’s playing to them–’
Smiler opened his eyes and said quickly, ‘That’s my father. He plays the mouth-organ. Is he all right?’
The Duchess said nothing; she just stared at the crystal ball. Her dark brown eyes were fixed as though she were hypnotized, and her big, jolly face was slack and expressionless.
Conscious that he had disobeyed her orders, Smiler closed his eyes and kept silent. After a moment or two the Duchess began to speak again and her voice, now sounding far, far away, gave Smiler an eerie feeling.
‘… Everything’s whirling, like coloured snowflakes … Birds, animals, people … Ah, there’s a room, a big room, the ceiling so high it’s lost in shadows, and a grand stairway … and oil-paintings of fine ladies and noble gentlemen … and suits of armour. There are people there, and holly and mistletoe hanging … The girl is there, and the man on the boat, and another man, tall and white-haired and bearded … And, yes, yes – you’re there Samuel Miles … You’re all together and there’s happiness around you – Oh, no!’ The Duchess’s voice suddenly broke off. Then, her voice quite different, she went on, ‘ Blood … Oh, I don’t want to see … suddenly such darkness over the bright morning sun … and there’s a man running … running … running for his … No, no, I don’t want to see it.’
The Duchess gave a sudden groan and stopped speaking. Smiler, scared, opened his eyes. The Duchess was leaning back in her chair
, her hands over her eyes, her shoulders shaking.
Not knowing what to do, Smiler reached out and touched her and said. ‘Are you all right, ma’am?’
The Duchess dropped her hands from her face, gave herself a little shake, and then suddenly smiled.
‘I’m all right, boy. There’s nothing to worry about. Sometimes the ball goes wild and mixes up the futures. You know the girl and the tall man with the beard?’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
‘And the man with the mouth-organ?’
‘That’s my father.’
‘Then you need have no worry. Time is going to bring you all together. Whatever happens between now and then, there’s that happiness waiting for you.’
Smiler considered this and, although he certainly hoped it was going to be true, he didn’t see how anyone could ever really see into the future. He said, ‘You really know that from the crystal ball, ma’am?’
‘Of course, boy.’
‘But … well … can there be a magic like that? I mean –’
‘I know what you mean, boy. You can’t understand how anyone can believe in magic?’
‘Well, only in a sort of a way, ma’am.’
The Duchess smiled. ‘Then you want to open your eyes, Samuel Miles, and see the magic right under everyone’s noses every day of life. You live on a great ball called the earth that spins through space like a top and nobody falls off – that’s magic. The sun rises and sets each day, and the seasons come and go – that’s all magic. The swallows fly to Africa for the winter and then back here in the Spring – that’s magic. But the greatest magic is life itself. The fact that you and every other living thing is alive is the greatest magic of all. Nobody knows how or when it happened except the Great One. What’s more, if we can remember the past and live the present, what’s so odd about some of us being able to look into the future? It’s just a gift, like other people can make music, write poetry, or invent machines that take others to the moon. Magic, Samuel Miles. Every breath we take is part of magic. And my magic is to be able to see a little farther ahead than most other people, and so far as you are concerned you’ve been told that one day you, your father, that girl, and the tall white-haired man will all be together. Does that chase your worries away?’
The Painted Tent Page 2