Free The Shadow of the Sycamores by Doris Davidson

the same place as Henry’s sister, otherwise he wouldn’t know where she lived. That would be the end of it for there was no other way she could find the boy.
    It would have been natural if Janet had spent another troubled night but she was so tired – so much had happened that day and her emotions had see-sawed so dramatically – that she fell into a deep sleep the minute her head touched the pillow.

    ‘Henry! You did lose your job, then?’ Abby held out her arms and her fourteen-year-old brother ran into them with a sob.
    ‘I didna really think Jim Legge would sack me,’ he gulped.
    ‘Dinna worry,’ she soothed. ‘He’d been angry but he’ll likely tell you to come back once he cools down.’
    ‘No, he’ll not ask me back.’ He moved over to sit down on what had been his Gramma’s chair, although that didn’t cross his mind, he was so depressed. ‘Davey said I was doing well as second horseman,’ he sighed, ‘but Harry’s got my job. Mr Legge said he didna ken if I had left for good or what.’
    ‘He could surely have waited a while but, never mind, you’ll be fine here wi’ me till you find something else. Henry, where are you going?’ she added as he got to his feet again.
    ‘I’ve to tell the carrier to take a bike back to the grieve. I’ll not be long.’
    He returned after only ten minutes, looking a little less distraught than when he had come in before, but his face fell again when Abby said, ‘You’ll be sleeping in Gramma’s bed. I’ve put a pig in to heat it for you.’ Noticing his agitation, she smiled, ‘I’ve washed all the bedding, Henry.’
    ‘Abby, I canna …’
    ‘All right, then. I’ll sleep in her bed and you can have mine.’
    Henry fell asleep quickly, exhausted in body and mind, but his sister lay awake for hours, thinking about Pogie Laing. She’d often wondered how he got the nickname because his real name was Clarence, according to the minister. At Gramma’s funeral, he had gripped her hand for a long time and his eyes had burned into hers as if he wanted to say something other than how sorry he was.
    She had turned seventeen, time for having a lad, and Pogie was the lad she wanted. She had hoped he might come to see her now that she was alone in the house but he wouldn’t come if he knew Henry was back.
    In spite of that side of it, though, she was glad her brother had come back to her. She had never seen him so upset as he’d been when he came in and he had comforted her twice before so it was up to her now. They would surely manage. It wouldbe a struggle but it shouldn’t be long till he found another job. Even though he was so short, he was a hard worker, with an ever-ready smile, willing to do anything.

CHAPTER FIVE
1887
    The Sycamores had once been the residence of a very minor peer of the realm who had been forced by circumstances, in the middle of the century, to sell up and emigrate to South Africa. The purchaser of the estate, an Aberdeenshire man now permanently domiciled in London but mindful of his roots although he was an immensely rich businessman, had founded an institution for the mentally afflicted. This had been in the charge of Innes Ledingham for the past twelve years. He was a strict disciplinarian as far as his staff was concerned but sympathetic and understanding with his patients, male and female, who ranged from fifteen or sixteen years of age to eighty and over.
    Because of steadily rising costs – wages, food, oil and coal – he had applied, about five years earlier, to the now deceased owner’s sons for extra funding. He had been told, however, that they were in financial difficulties themselves and that he would have to start charging the families of the ‘unfortunates’ for looking after them – otherwise they would have to close the place. After discussing this with the board of governors, Innes had decided to set the fees high enough to cover the few places he meant to keep for the ‘truly poor or destitute’ but,