Chapter 11

“Jemima, I wonder if you have unsung talents too? Many people have abilities that they don’t get an opportunity to display. Hermione is only now showing what she is capable of. You should explore what you might be able to do.”

Jemima was stunned by this. “Really? Me? You mean that?”

Reg added,”Yes, everyone has talents, but not everyone has found their talents yet.”

Jemima retorted, “From what I have heard, you developed your talent for learning very early in your life. Not everyone does that.”

“That is true,” admitted Reg, “but that was more or less forced upon me: it was that or give up, and I wasn’t going to give up. Finding your talent can be a slow process. When I first met my wives, they were okay at their subjects, but needed help. The help I gave them was mainly me showing them how to learn better, and now they can study their subjects much more effectively, and learn more in greater depth, and much quicker. They found their talents; it just took time and effort, mostly on their part.”

Jemima was not enthused. “I don’t have any special talents at all, apart from drawing and painting as a hobby; nobody is offering a job in that line. All I am really good at is organising things at home. I keep tidying up our rooms at the farm, putting clothes away in the wardrobes and dressers, and filing away whatever documents Mum or dad are working on. They all tend to leave things lying around, especially Hermione with her clothes and stuff.”

Reg turned his head to gaze enquiringly at Frances, who in turn was looking happier.

She said to Jemima, “I wonder if we can get you to do some tidying around this house, Jemima? I would be interested to see how well you did that.”

Jemima was eager. “Frances, I would be very happy to do that. I was afraid to touch anything before, as I didn’t know if it would annoy any of you; be seen as interference, and as you know we were only here as visitors.”

Frances suggested, “Why don’t you discuss this with Carol and Holly, to see if you can organise the household supplies and accounts for them? Treat it as a test of your abilities.”

“That will have to be today,” replied Jemima, “as they have their day off tomorrow, with that date with the boys.”

“Oh, yes,” Frances was reminded. “I must ensure that they have the right clothes for a date. They are my cousins, after all. Let’s both go and have a chat with them, if they are not too busy.”

As the women went off to see the twins, Reg found himself feeling fatherly towards Carol and Holly. He had gradually assumed the mantle of head of the house, and that very mantle was forcing him to view these teenagers as his own family. It was weird, he thought, but a weirdness he could understand. He didn’t want the twins hurt in any way, but at the same time recognised their right to explore relationships with boys.

Should he speak to them further, to warn them about boys and their male desires? He swiftly thought better of that idea, and decided he would detail Frances to that task, as she was their cousin. They would take such advice or counselling from Frances rather than from anyone else.

When eventually she returned, he broached the subject, and was surprised to discover she had already offered cautionary advice to her cousins.

“Reg, my darling, you are way behind when it comes to relationship advice. You are slow to think of such things, but we ladies are up to speed on such matters. The twins have been advised not to allow much on a first date beyond kissing and perhaps brief manhandling of breasts. I put it as, ‘leave them gasping for more, and they are more likely to ask you out again.’ That should work, for I suspect the Pringle twins have similar lack of experience with the opposite sex.”

Reg complained, “That’s not what happened with me and you girls! I was more or less shanghaied and put to fucking before I knew what was what.”

“Yes, dear, but you were different. You had no idea of how to woo any female properly, so we short-circuited the process. Remember that because of our looks, we weren’t very well versed with boy-girl relationships either. We applied Occam’s razor to the problem, and you never looked back, did you, my man?”

“Look back? I was shell-shocked, Frances; first with Erika and Freda, and then with you! It was all great fun, and a wake-up call to me, and that was added to my burgeoning love for all of you. You were wonderful girls to me in every other way, and then you put sex into the mix, and I was hooked from then on. My life was changed for ever by that point.”

Frances explained, “It was the correct arrangement for us and you, darling, but that is not how it should go with the twins. It should be a gradual introduction to each other, to see if they have that spark that makes a possible couple become a loving pair. With our study group, we had time to get to know you, before we ‘shanghaied’ you, as you call it. The two sets of twins have had no time to get to know each other’s personalities.”

“I am sure you are right, Frances my love. Once again, it seems that you are elected to be in charge of social interactions. How did you get on with Jemima and the twins, over the household accounts?”

“The twins were happy to pass on that chore. They pointed out that there were more people in the house than when they took on the work, plus the others we invite to dinner from time to time.”

“So? Didn’t we up their salary after Fiona joined us?”

“We did. They are not complaining, just pointing out the facts. I don’t believe they are hinting at more help, but we shall see.”

Reg wondered, “Any ideas yet on the Dangerfield silver wedding?”

“No-one has suggested anything yet, Reg. Have you something in mind?”

“Nothing that you could call an idea. I was thinking in terms of a silver frame for a piece of art or a photograph, but what the image could be, I am lost.”

Frances snorted, “Typical man! What would be more appropriate to a silver WEDDING, but a wedding photograph? We could get one from their wedding album and have it blown up to larger proportions.”

Reg had been listening to her, but his eyes now opened wide with a new notion.

“How about we get an artist to make a painting of the wedding photo? That would make it special; a one-off.”

Frances agreed, “Now, that IS a good suggestion.”

Reg had his own concern. “Where do we get a good artist that won’t cost a fortune? Any decent artists at the university?” His cash worries had intruded again with him realising it.

Frances offered, “Jemima said she painted as a hobby. Why don’t we see how good Jemima is as an artist? Get her to do a portrait of you, and see what you think of her talent.”

Reg’s face lit up, but he quickly sobered and queried, “A portrait of me? What gave you that idea? It would be better to have her paint all of you wives, one at a time, and we could give them as gifts to your parents.”

“You are getting ahead of yourself, Reg. We need to test out her ability in that line, and she would be more comfortable if it was you.”

“Maybe you are right; I don’t know, but if you insist...”

“I insist. With your back trouble you should be good at sitting still for her!”

Reg remarked, “Yes. That reminds me. I was supposed some time ago to go up to the attic and see if there is anything stored there. My back put paid to that, and you girls are pregnant now, so I don’t want any of you going up there; a fall could be serious.”

Frances grimaced as she thought about this and accepted the conclusion. “Do we even know if there is a light inside the attic, or do we need a torch to look around up there?”

“Do the house plans indicate such things?”

“Reg, be sensible, man. At the age of this house, it is almost impossible to there have been a light put in when it was built. A later owner might have added a light up there, but in that case the light switch is probably inside the entrance hatch. I certainly have never seen a wall light switch that might be that.

We have a few more possibilities, however: the Robson girls, the twins, and the Pringle men, if we can persuade one or more of them to climb up. Will it be a pull-down hatch with a folding ladder, or do we have to put a ladder or a set of steps up to the hatch?”

The ever-practical Reg stated, “It depends on the ceiling height. A low ceiling would suggest a hatch you get up to with a step-ladder and push up the hatch inside. A higher ceiling with an eye-hook screwed into the hatch would suggest a pull-down hatch with an extending ladder that opens up as you hinge it downwards. Someone needs to go up and look.”

“Well, all the bedrooms in use are on the first floor up the stairs. No-one is using the top floor at all for now, so you are right about going up to check...” she paused. “Wait a moment; Elizabeth runs up the entire staircase every day, or I think she still does. She could check the ceiling and let us know what she sees.”

Reg warned, “If someone goes up into the attic space, they had better be careful. If there is no flooring, you could put your foot through the ceiling if you don’t step properly on the beams.”

Frances contributed, “On the other hand, if someone wanted to store stuff up there, they would have laid some flooring first, wouldn’t they?”

“That makes sense to me, Frances. If there is nothing up there, the owner won’t have installed a light, and probably no flooring either. If stuff has been stored up there, there should be flooring and a light; that seems logical.”

“I think that we should leave the attic exploration to the Pringle boys, if our twins decide after their date that they are reliable lads,” opined Frances. Reg agreed.

Saturday came, and the LeBrun twins were unbearable all morning and lunchtime, hurrying everywhere, trying to ensure that the place was tidy and the food preparations in train. The boys had asked them out for the afternoon for a hike up the town’s nearby hill. They had told the girls that the view from up there was tremendous and well worth the effort to get to the summit.

There was a question mark over what happened afterwards. In case the lads wanted to take them out for a meal, the twins prepared a buffet-style meal for the dinner at home. Should the boys prefer to come to the house, they could also enjoy the buffet, so the planning had allowed for such extras. Frances approved of this advance planning, and advised the girls, “We women always need to be one step ahead of the men. You are the organisers and make the decisions, and they have to accept that, if they are truly interested in taking things further.”

Carol and Holly approved of that philosophy, and grinned in response.

After lunch the two young men arrived. It astonished Reg to find himself thinking of them as ‘young men’, as if he was much older than the lads, when he was actually younger than them. His wives had made him more mature than his years, he recognised.

The Pringle twins were dressed for their hike, and the LeBrun twins had also dressed for hiking as best they could, with strong shoes and wool socks to best cushion their feet, plus slacks and warm blouse with a pullover on top. Being early in the year, they naturally had on their anoraks for protection from rain and wind but unusually it was a warm and dry day outside.

A quick discussion determined that the question of feeding on their return would be left until then, and the two pairs set off. The lads left their car outside the Robertson home.

After they left, Elizabeth was agreeable to climb the stairs to the top of the building, and Sidra said she would go too, to see what they could find relating to the attic. Reg amused himself by accosting each of his wives in turn, to kiss them, fondle their breasts, and generally make himself a nuisance since they were at home with him, but his actions met with approval and were reciprocated.

It seemed only a few minutes before Elizabeth and Sidra were back, but they insisted they had spent some time checking everything they could. Elizabeth was proud to be the one to give their report.

“Dad, we looked up at the ceiling along the whole upper corridor, and there was only one spot where an access hatch exists. It has a screw-in hook, but the height was too much for us to reach without some form of lift, so we checked the store cupboard at the end of the corridor. Just inside the door we found a long wooden pole with a hook at the end, so we went back with that and used it to pull the hatch open. As it came down, an extending ladder with handrail opened out, coming down to floor level, making it easy to get access. Sidra is lighter, so she went up first, to check that it was secure, and then we both stood on the bottom two steps to see if it was able to take our combined weight.

It proved quite sturdy, so I went up and stuck my head into the attic for a look. I was able to find a light switch beside the hatch, inside the attic, and turned it on.”

She paused in her tale, and was urged on by all her listeners. She continued, revealing,”The attic has flooring; it looks like tongue and groove planks, according to Sidra who has seen such a floor. Sitting on the planks are a number of boxes, all wrapped up in what looks like black plastic and sealed with wide brown sticky tape.”

“So you have no idea what is inside the boxes?” queried Fiona anxiously, then stopped to look contritely towards Reg. “Sorry, Reg. You should be the one asking the questions.”

“No, it is fine by me, Fiona. Anything there belongs legally to Frances’ father, not us. Anyone here can ask the questions.”

Elizabeth concluded her tale.

“Anyway, after letting Sidra have a look in as well, we switched off the light and closed up the hatch. It is much harder to shut it than to open it.”

“So, said Frances, “All we have to do is go up there and open the boxes.”

Reg added, “Or bring them down to open them.”

Prudence offered, “We should take care, in case there is something dangerous inside the boxes.”

“Dangerous? Such as?” demanded Frances.

Prudence had suggestions. “Noxious chemicals, sharp-pointed things, live grenades, drugs; there are plenty of bad possibilities.”

Frances accepted this judgement. “O.K., so we take care. The choice then: open them in the attic, or downstairs, or out in the garden?”

Reg had been thinking. “There is another possibility that we should take into consideration. They may be booby-trapped.”

Jessica had been listened, and now erupted.

“Booby-trapped? Why on earth would anyone booby-trap boxes in their attic?”

Reg had been exploring this possibility in his mind.

“Not normally, Jessica, I accept, but if they belonged to a drugs baron, as this house did, that may be his way of protecting them from the police or other drug barons: make them explode or give off poison gas, for example.”

Freda came in with, “Perhaps it is crates of illegal whisky, beer or something like that.”

Reg agreed, “That is another reasonable possibility. We should just wait and see. I favour taking them one at a time to the garden for opening.”

Sidra had been on the fringe of our discussion group and now contributed an idea.

“Dad, when you put a box in the garden, you could rig up a device to open the box from a distance, so if there was anything nasty, you would be well away from the effects.”

“Sidra, that is genius. Why don’t you and Elizabeth work out how to put that into effect. It will be part of your home education on solving problems.”

She sucked in air, shocked at this challenge, then recovered. “O.K., Dad, you are on.” She rushed off to discuss it with Elizabeth.

Frances now told Reg, “My love, you have managed to divert us with that attic question, but we really should get back to the portrait idea. I’ll see if Jemima brought any painting things with her when she came here.”

Her enquiries found that all the painting equipment had been left in Scarborough. All she had were drawing pencils and a drawing pad. Frances asked if she could make a start with a drawing of Reg, and some painting gear could be obtained on Monday. She thought that a good idea.

“You will be able to see by my drawing whether I have a good eye for a portrait, Frances. All I need is for the sitter to sit still for a considerable period of time.”

“Reg has got used to being stuck in a chair for a while, so I doubt there will be a problem with that requirement, Jemima. We can get him to think over a problem while you sketch. Just tell us when you want to start.”

“I only need a few minutes first, to sketch in the outlines of his body. For his head, I need to observe him to find out how he should be looking – straight out, to the right or to the left; much depends on his facial structure and any blemishes we want to hide.”

“You can’t remember what he looks like?”

“No, Frances. This is different. It is not a matter of recognition. Drawing a person means first examining their face fully, to try and catch in your mind various nuances such as how he holds his head, the distance between the eyes, and the exact relationship between eyes, nose and mouth. Despite basic anatomy being identical, everyone is slightly different. That is how we recognise each other: our mind catches these things without consciously thinking about them. Does he normally have a straight mouth, or slightly curled up or down at one side or both?; that sort of thing.”

“Oh.” Frances was embarrassed to realise she had not thought about details like that. She just saw Reg’s face as ... well ... Reg.

She admitted, “Jemima, you certainly know what you are talking about. Now we need to see it in practice, dear lady.”

Jemima was gratified and cheered up by the description of ‘dear lady’, and offered, “I can do the preliminary sketch right away, if Reg has the time.”

He did reluctantly admit that he had nothing important to do, so sat while Jemima peered at him from various angles before deciding how he should sit, and where he should look. She then opened her sketchpad and started outlining the image she wanted to draw. Once she had that to her satisfaction, she told Reg, “I only need to observe your face now, to catch your hairstyle and how it is combed, hair length and whether your ears are clear of hair or not; where there are lines on your face, the way your eyebrows sit above your eyes, the width and thickness of your eyebrows, the length of your eyelashes, and a few other details. I need to get all that sorted for a preliminary pencil sketch which will give me the basis for the later painting.”

Reg enquired plaintively, “Lines on my face? Surely not.”

Jemima assured him that there were indeed lines. “Mostly under the eyes or on the forehead. Only babies are without lines in their faces. The lines come about through usage of your face: mouth, eyes, and so forth. They are almost invisible in people our age, but they are part of you and need to be incorporated in the picture. They are what makes you, you; a part that helps identify you as a distinct person.”

She added, “Then there are the shadows on your face, depending on the light source and direction. It makes things complicated for me, but interesting, too.”

“Fascinating,” commented Reg. “I hadn’t though there would be so much to it. You really have a talent if you can see such things in a face.”

Jemima accepted his estimation. “It is almost as important as being able to draw what you see!”

Reg snorted, “Seeing is believing, drawing is a new reality.”

Frances came back to inform him that she had checked out the kitchen, and there were many plates of buffet food laid out and covered with muslin, ready to be laid out in the dining room at the right time.

“The twins have done a fine job putting it together, so I hope they bring their boys back to sample it. It is a good advert for their culinary talents, and as they say that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, it should help things along if the girls like their dates enough.”

Reg told her, “I hope so. I felt like a father seeing off his daughters on their first date, when they were setting off. I hope we end up with a mix of boys and girls, for I don’t fancy being father to many girls: it is too nerve-wracking when they mature!”

Frances admitted, “I can’t promise you anything Reg. We get what we get, all of us, but the odds are in favour of a mix of genders.”

The family were thinking about starting on the buffet, so got the preparations going: laying the food out in the dining room and putting on the kettle for teas and coffees, when the twins turned up at the door. They had the Pringle lads with them.

Reg did the honours of opening the front door and welcoming them all back.

“Hello again, boys. It is not only free food here, it is great food, courtesy of our twins.”

The lads shyly nodded, and one told Reg, “The girls convinced us to come back to eat. The said it was only courtesy towards them; so we couldn’t refuse; but we ARE hungry!”

“Well, the ladies have just revealed the buffet that the twins prepared, and the kettle is on, so we can start eating as soon as you feel like it.”

“Thank you, sir. I know that you are younger than us, but the girls say you are the head of the household, so we will do as you ask, at any time.”

“My goodness. No, thank YOU, lads, for your courtesy. I get the impression you will become great assets to the legal profession. I presume you know about Freda’s father?”

“Freda’s father? No, she doesn’t talk about her family. The only relative she mentions is her husband; you. She talks about you all the time, you know.”

“No, I wasn’t aware that she was telling tales at the university.”

“Oh, nothing bad, Mr Robertson. She clearly loves you to bits.”

“I love her as well. She knows how to take things in hand and expedite matters. She’ll be a great lawyer as well, in my opinion. Give me a minute, so I can see if she will let me talk about her father. Help yourselves to the food while you are waiting.”