Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [62]
“Of course I listen,” said Irene, pulling Bertie along. “I listen to you all the time, Bertie. Mummy is a listening mummy! It’s just that sometimes mummies have to take decisions for their boys if their boys are not quite old enough to know what’s good for them. You’ll thank me, Bertie. You just wait. You’ll thank me.”
Bertie was not sure that he would, but he knew that there was no point in arguing with his mother. He sighed, and looked at his watch. It was a Saturday, and that meant yoga in Stockbridge, in the course entitled Bendy Fun for Tots. If Bertie felt that he was too young to be a member of the Edinburgh Teenage Orchestra, then he felt that he was far too old to go to Bendy Fun for Tots. In that class, he seemed to be the oldest by far; the other member of the class nearest in age to him was a four-year-old boy called Sigi, whose mother was friendly with Irene and discussed Melanie Klein with her. The other children seemed to be much younger still and had to be helped into the yoga position because they were unable to stand yet. Bertie wished that after the excitement of the audition his mother would forget about yoga, and his hopes were considerably raised when she suggested that they get off the bus at George Street so that she could go to the bookshop. Although he wanted only to go home, Bertie felt that a visit to the bookshop, which would distract his mother from yoga, was worthwhile, and he would, if necessary, prolong the expedition by offering advice on what books were available.
“What are you looking for, Mummy?” asked Bertie, once they reached the bookshop. “More Melanie Klein?”
Irene laughed. “Dear Bertie!” she said. “No, I have rather a lot by Melanie Klein, you know. I’m after something different. I feel in the mood for something to entertain me.”
Bertie stood on his tip-toes to look at the piles of books on a display table. “There are some nice books here, Mummy,” he said. “Look. That one looks exciting. How about that one?”
130 Delta of George Street
Irene looked to where Bertie’s small finger was pointing. “No dear,” she said. “Anaïs Nin. I think not, somehow.”
“But it looks like a nice book, Mummy,” said Bertie. “There’s a lady on the cover. Look.”
Irene smiled. “Believe me, Bertie, that’s not what I had in mind.”
Bertie looked at the other books. There were several Patrick O’Brian novels, with pictures of sailing ships, their cannons blasting away at each other. The ships had sail upon sail, all the way up their towering masts, and the tiny figures of men, and boys too, it seemed, scaled the rigging.
“Look,” said Bertie. “There’s a book by Mr O’Brian, Mummy. Daddy has read some of those. Should we get one for Daddy?”
Irene looked disdainfully at the naval tale. “Pure masculine fantasy,” she said. “Escape to sea, to a world without women. Rather sad, in a way.”
Bertie looked puzzled. He did not see anything wrong with escaping to sea to escape women. He wondered if they still took cabin boys in the Navy. If they did, then perhaps he could enlist and go off to sea from Leith. They would not let his mother come with them – the Navy was fussy about things like that –
and she would have to wave to him from the shore. But the other sailors would not know that she was his mother, and they might think that she was just a strange woman who liked to wave to ships. So that would not be too embarrassing. And perhaps Tofu could come with him, as a cabin boy too, and they Empower Points 131
could climb the rigging together and keep a look-out for other ships, up there, high on the mast, almost in the clouds. It would feel like flying, he thought, almost like flying. Irene looked at her watch. “Bertie, dear,” she began. And his spirits sank. Yoga. But no. “Bertie, dear,” she said. “You’ll never guess who I’ve just seen! Dr Fairbairn! I think I’ll just pop up and have a quick chat with him in the coffee room upstairs. Would you mind? You could maybe look at some of the books in the children’s section. They have a nice little chair through there.”
Bertie did