Love Over Scotland - Alexander Hanchett Smith [95]
“But maybe that was because he had been a sailor,” interrupted Bertie. “Sailors love whistles. Daddy told me that. He says that Mr O’Brian . . .”
Irene raised an admonitory finger. “We can leave Patrick O’Brian out of this,” she said. “I know that Daddy likes to read his books. Silly Daddy. Patrick O’Brian appeals to men because he makes them think that they can escape from their responsibilities by going to sea. That is what the Navy is all about. And Mr O’Brian told a lot of fibs about himself, you know, Bertie. 198 Irene Spoils Things
He told everybody that he was born in Ireland, whereas he wasn’t. He was an Englishman. Then he said that he went off to sea as a sixteen-year-old or whatever age it was, and sailed a boat with a friend. Such nonsense, Bertie! And it’s significant – isn’t it? –
that he then wrote all those novels about that ridiculous Jack Aubrey sailing off with Dr Maturin, or whatever he was called. Writers just play out their fantasies in their books. They are often very unstable, tricky people, Bertie. Writers are usually very bad at real life and feel that they have to create imaginary lives to make up for it. And that was a bad case of it.”
Bertie stared at his mother. She spoils things, he thought. All she ever does is spoil things.
Irene stared back at Bertie. It was important that he should understand, she thought. There was no reason why a bright child like Bertie should not understand that all was not necessarily as it seemed. It was also important that he should be able to see male posturing for what it was.
“Men often do that sort of thing,” she continued. “You won’t have heard of him, Bertie, but there was another case in which a writer pretended to be somebody else. There was a man called Grey Owl, who lived in Canada. He pretended to be a North American Indian and he wrote all sorts of books about living in the forests. And he wore Red Indian outfits, too – feathers and the like. He must have looked so ridiculous, silly man! He wrote all these books which were about the customs of the Ojibwe Indians and the like, but all the time he was really an Englishman called Archie Belaney, or something like that!” She paused. “But this is taking us rather far away from The Sound of Music, Bertie.”
Bertie was silent. He had not started this conversation, and it was not his fault that they were now talking about Grey Owl. He sounded rather a nice man to Bertie. And why should he not dress up in feathers and live in the forests if that was what he wanted to do? It was typical of his mother to try to spoil Grey Owl’s fun.
64. Lederhosen
The conversation between Bertie and his mother on the subject of The Sound of Music had taken place as they walked down Scotland Street on their way home from school. The earlier part of the day had been unusually warm for autumn – indeed, the entire month had been more like late summer, with clear, sunny days that could be distinguished from June or July only by their diminishing length. Now, however, as they made their way up the stair that led to their second-floor flat at 44 Scotland Street, they both felt the chill that had crept into the afternoon.
“We must get your Shetland sweater out,” said Irene, as she extracted her key from her pocket. “It’s lovely and warm, and now that the weather is beginning to turn . . .” She stopped. The subject of clothing had made her think of possible costumes for the play. Maria, of course, had made the children wear clothes made out of curtain material, and that meant it would be simple enough for the mothers of the children playing those parts to run something up. Mind you, she thought, some of them probably already have clothes made out of curtains . . . She smiled. There was one of the mothers – who was it? Merlin’s mother, was it not? – who wore the most peculiar clothing herself. She had a shapeless,