Free Green Grow the Rashes and Other Stories by William Meikle Page A

to John Barleycorn before
I realised that we hadn’t changed our set order. The song… that’s how I thought of it… was up next. I’d been
singing it at all our gigs with no problems at all, but now that we
were back in this bar it started to get to me… so much so that I
forgot a verse of Barleycorn . That got
me another of those looks from Dave when the song came to
an early end.
    "We can skip
straight to The Haughs of
Cromdale if you want?" Johnny
said.
    I might even
have agreed, had not my gaze been caught by a gathering shadow in
the corner. This time I could almost make him out… a stocky figure,
with bushy hair and a straggly beard, almost as dark as the shadows
in which he stood. Somehow just looking at him brought the magic back. I didn’t want a drink, didn’t want to be anywhere
else but right there, on that stage. And there was only one thing I
wanted to sing.
    I surprised both Johnny
and Dave by starting right in without accompaniment. The audience
fell quiet after just two bars. All that could be heard was my
voice, soaring, dancing and filling the room with both joy and
sadness at the same time. The shadow in the corner deepened and
took firmer shape.
    There's
nought but care on every hand,
    In every hour
that passes.
    I felt those cares, as if I’d borne them all my life. Tears came
again. I let them come, and put everything I had into the
song.
    And tho' at
last they catch them fast,
    Their hearts
can ne'er enjoy them, O.
    As I brought it to an end
the place was deathly quiet. All I could hear was my own breathing.
Then the crowd erupted in applause that seemed to go on forever.
Dave and Johnny both wore huge grins. But they soon faded when I
stepped down off the stage.
    "What
about The Haughs of
Cromdale? " Johnny shouted. I
ignored him and headed for the shadowed corner. I had to force my
way through a crowd who all wanted to pat me on the back, buy me a
drink, give me a kiss, anything to get close to the bearer
of the song. Over their heads I caught a glimpse
of a shifting shadow, a sense of something green moving
deeper into the darkness. When I reached the corner I found only
empty space. I turned on my heels and headed for the bar, ignoring
the shouts and exhortations coming from Johnny and Dave.
    By the time they had
finished the set and came to berate me, I was far too drunk to
care.
     
    ~-o0O0o-~
     
    In the morning I woke to
find them gone. I couldn’t even remember where our next stop was to
be. There was a bird involved in the place name, that I knew, but
whether it was Gander, or Happy Valley Goose Bay, I had no idea.
Not that it mattered, for I had no intention of following them. All
I wanted was to find the man who had stood in that dark corner;
find him, and learn how to bring up the emotion that was too deeply
buried to find at any other time.
    I spent the
rest of the day in the bar, supping beer and casting looks into the
corner. Several patrons tried to engage me in conversation, mostly
about the
song , but a couple of grunts
soon put paid to that, and eventually I was left alone with my beer
and my memories. All too soon I was back on the hard stuff
again.
    And so it went, through a
long afternoon that turned into a fuzzy evening.
    I had been good, once
upon a time, a lifetime ago. I left Scotland in my twenties with
the voice of an angel and the confidence to send it out to any
audience who would listen. I played gigs all over North America, to
ever-bigger crowds, ever bigger acclaim. I met Jennie, and we did
all of that, but together.
    Then she went and died on
me. My voice shrank, and so did the crowds, and my life got
smaller, circling Newfoundland in a decrepit van, singing the same
songs every night, and drinking, always drinking. I had thought I
was as dead as my love. The man in the shadow had shown me
different. And I hated him for it.
    I only shook myself out
of my reverie when the night’s entertainment started up -- a band
of youngsters, musically gifted, but with