Anatomy Of Drumming: Move Better, Feel Better, Play Better Mobi Download Book

[Lisandra Okumoto]

Twenty-nine when they had married, he had sown no few wild oats,yet Anna's true instinct made her trust him completely: Herguardian had disliked him, opposing the engagement, but in the endshe had had her own way. And as things turned out her choice hadbeen happy, for seldom had two people loved more than they did;they loved with an ardour undiminished by time; as they ripened, sotheir love ripened with them.

Sir Philip never knew how much he longed for a son until, someten years after marriage, his wife conceived a child; then he knewthat this thing meant complete fulfilment, the fulfilment for whichthey had both been waiting. When she told him, he could not findwords for expression, and must just turn and weep on her shoulder.It never seemed to cross his mind for a moment that Anna might verywell give him a daughter; he saw her only as a mother of sons, norcould her warnings disturb him. He christened the unborn infantStephen, because he admired the pluck of that Saint. He was not areligious man by instinct, being perhaps too much of a student, buthe read the Bible for its fine literature, and Stephen had grippedhis imagination. Thus he often discussed the future of their child:'I think I shall put Stephen down for Harrow', or: 'I'd rather likeStephen to finish off abroad, it widens one's outlook on life'.

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And listening to him, Anna also grew convinced; his certaintywore down her vague misgivings, and she saw herself playing withthis little Stephen, in the nursery, in the garden, in thesweet-smelling meadows. 'And himself the lovely young man,' shewould say, thinking of the soft Irish speech of her peasants; 'Andhimself with the light of the stars in his eyes, and the courage ofa lion in his heart!'

Anna Gordon held her child to her breast, but she grieved whileit drank, because of her man who had longed so much for a son. Andseeing her grief, Sir Philip hid his chagrin, and he fondled thebaby and examined its fingers.

It was happy to have a baby at Morton, and the old house seemedto become more mellow as the child, growing fast now and learningto walk, staggered or stumbled or sprawled on the floors that hadlong known the ways of children. Sir Philip would come home allmuddy from hunting and would rush into the nursery before pullingoff his boots, then down he would go on his hands and knees whileStephen clambered on to his back. Sir Philip would pretend to bewell corned up, bucking and jumping and kicking wildly, so thatStephen must cling to his hair or his collar, and thump him withhard little arrogant fists. Anna, attracted by the outlandishhubbub, would find them, and would point to the mud on thecarpet.

She would say: 'Now, Philip, now, Stephen, that's enough! It'stime for your tea', as though both of them were children. Then SirPhilip would reach up and disentangle Stephen, after which he wouldkiss Stephen's mother.

Stephen, acutely responsive to beauty, would be dimly longing tofind expression for a feeling almost amounting to worship, that hermother's face had awakened. But Anna, looking gravely at herdaughter, noting the plentiful auburn hair, the brave hazel eyesthat were so like her father's, as indeed were the child's wholeexpression and bearing, would be filled with a sudden antagonismthat came very near to anger.

She would awake at night and ponder this thing, scourgingherself in an access of contrition; accusing herself of hardness ofspirit, of being an unnatural mother. Sometimes she would shedslow, miserable tears, remembering the inarticulate Stephen.

Restlessly tossing from side to side, Anna Gordon would pray forenlightenment and guidance; would pray that her husband might neversuspect her feelings towards his child. All that she was and hadbeen he knew; in all the world she had no other secret save thisone most unnatural and monstrous injustice that was stronger thanher will to destroy it. And Sir Philip loved Stephen, he idolizedher; it was almost as though he divined by instinct that hisdaughter was being secretly defrauded, was bearing some unmeritedburden. He never spoke to his wife of these things, yet watchingthem together, she grew daily more certain that his love for thechild held an element in it that was closely akin to pity.

Having finally secured the large cutting-out scissors, Mrs.Bingham went forth in search of the offender; she was not one totolerate any interference with the dignity of her status. She foundCollins still on the top flight of stairs, and forthwith shestarted to upbraid her: 'putting her back in her place,' the nursecalled it; and she did it so thoroughly that in less than fiveminutes 'the second-of-three' had been told of every fault that waslikely to preclude promotion.

Stephen stood still in the nursery doorway. She could feel herheart thumping against her side, thumping with anger and pity forCollins who was answering never a word. There she knelt mute, withher brush suspended, with her mouth slightly open and her eyesrather scared; and when at long last she did manage to speak, hervoice sounded humble and frightened. She was timid by nature, andthe nurse's sharp tongue was a byword throughout the household.

For the rest of that day Stephen brooded darkly over Collins'unworthiness; and yet all through that day she still wantedCollins, and whenever she saw her she caught herself smiling, quiteunable, in her turn, to muster the courage to frown her innatedisapproval. And Collins smiled too, if the nurse was not looking,and she held up her plump red fingers, pointing to her nails andmaking a grimace at the nurse's retreating figure. Watching her,Stephen felt unhappy and embarrassed, not so much for herself asfor Collins; and this feeling increased, so that thinking about hermade Stephen go hot down her spine.

She grew restless and could not be induced to sit still evenwhen her nurse read aloud. At one time she had very much likedbeing read to, especially from books that were all about heroes,but now such stories so stirred her ambition that she longedintensely to live them. She, Stephen, now longed to be Williamtell, or Nelson, or the whole Charge of Balaclava; and this led tomuch foraging in the nursery ragbag, much hunting up of garmentsonce used for charades, much swagger and noise, much strutting andposing, and much staring into the mirror. There ensued a period ofgeneral confusion when the nursery looked as though smitten by anearthquake; when the chairs and the floor would be littered withoddments that Stephen had dug out but discarded. Once dressed, shewould walk away grandly, waving the nurse peremptorily aside,going, as always, in search of Collins, who might have to bestalked to the basement.

Sometimes Collins would play up, especially to Nelson. 'My, butyou do look fine!' she would exclaim. And then to the cook: 'Docome here, Mrs. Wilson! Doesn't Miss Stephen look exactly like aboy? I believe she must be a boy with them shoulders, and themfunny gawky legs she's got on her!'

But one day, when Collins had been crosser than usual, sheseemed to be filled with a sudden contrition. 'It's me housemaid'sknee,' she confided to Stephen. 'It's not you, it's me, housemaid'sknee, dearie.'

They were standing alone in the spacious night-nursery, whereCollins was limply making the bed. It was one of those rare anddelicious occasions when Stephen could converse with her goddessundisturbed, for the nurse had gone out to post a letter. Collinsrolled down a coarse woollen stocking and displayed the afflictedmember; it was blotchy and swollen and far from attractive, butStephen's eyes filled with quick, anxious tears as she touched theknee with her finger.

'There now!' exclaimed Collins. 'See that dent? That's thewater!' And she added: 'It's so painful it fair makes me sick. Itall comes from polishing them floors, Miss Stephen; I didn't oughtto polish them floors.'

This petition she repeated until she fell asleep, to dream thatin some queer way she was Jesus, and that Collins was kneeling andkissing her hand, because she, Stephen, had managed to cure her bycutting off her knee with a bone paper-knife and grafting it on toher own. The dream was a mixture of rapture and discomfort, and itstayed quite a long time with Stephen.

There were endless spots on the old nursery carpet, and thesespots Stephen could pretend to be cleaning; always careful to copy.Collins' movements, rubbing backwards and forwards while groaning alittle. When she got up at last, she must hold her left leg andlimp, still groaning a little. Enormous new holes appeared in herstockings, through which she could examine her aching knees, andthis led to rebuke: 'Stop your nonsense, Miss Stephen! It'sscandalous the way you're tearing your stockings!' But Stephensmiled grimly and went on with the nonsense, spurred by love to anopen defiance. On the eighth day, however, it dawned upon Stephenthat Collins should be shown the proof of her devotion. Her kneeswere particularly scarified that morning, so she limped off insearch of the unsuspecting housemaid.

All the same, Collins plucked up her courage that evening andspoke to the nurse about Stephen. 'Her knees was all red andswollen, Mrs. Bingham. Did you ever know such a queer fish as sheis? Praying about my knee, too. She's a caution! And now if sheisn't trying to get one! Well, if that's not real loving then Idon't know nothing.' And Collins began to laugh weakly.

Collins became more affectionate after the incident of thehousemaid's knee; she could not but feel a new interest in thechild whom she and the cook had now labelled as 'queer', andStephen basked in much surreptitious petting, and her love forCollins grew daily.

There were times when she wanted to get away from Collins, yetat others she longed intensely to be near her, longed to force theresponse that her loving craved for, but quite wisely was veryseldom granted.

In these days Stephen clung more closely to her father, and thisin a way was because of Collins. She could not have told you why itwas so, she only felt that it was. Sir Philip and his daughterwould walk on the hill-sides, in and out of the black-thorn andyoung green bracken; they would walk hand in hand with a deep senseof friendship, with a deep sense of mutual understanding.

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