Mistress of Green Tree Mill

by Mistress of Green Tree Mill (retail) (epub)

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘But what about the lads? Who’s going to look after them?’ Like Lizzie he’d taken Maggy’s work for granted for so long that it did not seem possible she could walk out of the door.

  The girl looked around as if young Davie and Robert had been mislaid somewhere in the tumbled coats of the guests and the debris of the party.

  ‘They’re playing with your brother’s bairns. You’ll find somebody to look after them. There’s plenty of wifies that’ll be glad of a job. I’m going with Lizzie,’ she said in a decided way.

  It was obvious that she had decided the lads were not her concern. Lizzie was.

  When Lizzie and Sam were seen off the premises, they were followed out to their carriage by Maggy burdened by carpet bags. Sam took them from her and threw them up to the carriage driver but when he had exhausted her pile, Maggy said, ‘Wait, there’s more.’ She went back inside, grabbed a bundle tied up in a scarlet cloth from behind the front door and handed it to Sam with the words, ‘Just throw that up to the cab-man too.’

  ‘What’s in it?’ asked Lizzie.

  ‘It’s my stuff,’ said Maggy, climbing up beside the driver.

  ‘But you’re not coming with us,’ Lizzie remonstrated.

  ‘Of course I am. Who’s going to look after you if I don’t? You’re no’ wanting to start scouring your own step like some slum woman now that you’re married. I’m coming,’ replied Maggy, calmly settling herself and pushing wisps of hair back under her straw hat.

  The couple inside the hansom looked at each other in perplexity till Lizzie burst out laughing. Clinging to Sam’s hand she said, ‘She’s coming with us. You’re getting two for the price of one, dearest.’

  * * *

  Marriage transformed Lizzie. One of the many delights about being married was Sam’s ability to make everything a joke. If she raged because Maggy had broken some precious tea cup, he laughed and turned aside her anger. ‘That’s what you get for having a wee Scotch terrier for a housemaid,’ he said and then Lizzie had to laugh too because, as Maggy put on weight through comfortable living, she did look more and more like a tousled terrier. A belated follower of fashion, she yielded to the suggestion of her sister Rosie and cut her tightly curled hair into an Alexandra-style fringe, but within weeks it grew so long that it curled over her eyes which gleamed through the thicket like shiny agates. In the Lochee Road house Maggy was happy too, singing tunelessly as she bustled about and tactfully making herself absent when Sam and Lizzie wanted to be alone.

  * * *

  During that first winter of marriage Lizzie laughed a lot, taking her happiness with her wherever she went – in the Castle Bar she distributed little presents for the lads and chaffed her father and George. She and Sam made a point of visiting Mr Adams every week as she had always done. Sometimes they persuaded the old man to drive out with them in a hansom cab and took him on tours around the city that he had lived in all his life and knew intimately. He enjoyed pointing out places of interest to them as they bowled along – Claverhouse’s Castle; the Broughty Ferry mansions of the great mill magnates; Broughty Castle on its rock sticking out into the sea; Claypots Castle which he said was haunted; the place on Monifeith beach where a great whale was beached when he was a little boy.

  Because of the large sum Sam had earned, they were able to spend lavishly and went on excursions to Perth and Montrose with first-class tickets, but when Sam suggested taking the train to Edinburgh, Lizzie went pale. She was afraid to cross the Tay Bridge – even Sam could not drive that fear from her.

  Every Saturday night they reserved the same box for the second house at the Palace Theatre and Lizzie sat entranced, delighting in Sam’s laughter and the way he clapped his huge hands together at the end of each act. On their theatre outings she always wore her best silk gown and Mrs Adams’ silk Paisley shawl. Sam was resplendent in his dark suit, stiff white collar and the white silk scarf she had given him. She loved him with a devotion that shone out of her. His every word, his every gesture was cherished and all the more because she knew that the days were passing too quickly.

  Soon it was April again. When the town turned out to wave farewell to the whalers, Lizzie wept on the quayside because the Pegasus was taking her heart away to the regions of pack ice and cruel frosts.

  Kind Captain Jacobs allowed her husband to jump down from the deck for one last hurried embrace before the ship cast off its thick ropes, and as she pressed herself against his chest, all her old fears came back. She felt alone and unprotected, a sensation that was more bitter to her after knowing what it was like to be cherished and loved. Remembering the fate of her mother, she was afraid to let him out of her sight, clinging to his coat with both hands and pleading, ‘Don’t go, don’t go, stay here with me, Sam,’ until he planted his kiss in her palm again. Then he ran back to the ship.

  Chapter 10

  ‘My life’s so odd. It’s in two different bits. When Sam’s at home, I’m so happy and every day is full but when he’s away at sea, I feel useless. I help my father out in the Castle Bar sometimes but I don’t enjoy it – I wish I could do something else.’ Lizzie was speaking to Mr Adams, who nodded wisely as he listened. She often talked to him about things that she discussed with no one else.

  ‘Have you thought about starting a family?’ he inquired gently.

  She seemed to shrink back in her chair at the question. She and Sam had been married for three years and in the beginning she was terrified at the idea of having a child, remembering Rosie Davidson struggling and sweating in the room where her mother had just died. Some time later, however, her thoughts changed and she felt a strange pull at her heart when she saw women with small babies. She began to think that the pain and travail might be worth it after all. Though she was ready for a child, however, she still failed to conceive and now was afraid she was barren.

  Seeing the confusion on her face, Mr Adams felt remorse and rapidly changed the subject.

  ‘I could do with some help in my business affairs,’ he told her.

  ‘What sort of help?’

  ‘Oh, nothing too demanding. I can’t manage to go to the mill much these days, I feel so tired. What I need is someone to help me draft my letters, talk about my investments, read the newspapers to me now that my eyes are failing, that sort of thing. My wife used to help…’ His voice trailed off as his white-ringed eyes drifted away to stare over the river.

  ‘I’m not much of a scholar,’ she warned him.

  He grinned. ‘Neither am I, my dear. We should get along very well together.’

  In the end it was agreed that she was to spend three afternoons a week at Tay Lodge, helping Mr Adams, during the months that Sam was away.

  As she rode home in a cab that night she caught sight of Rosie Davidson in the High Street coming out of a baker’s shop with a loaf under one arm and golden-headed little Bertha held to her breast beneath a tightly wrapped shawl. Lizzie was glad that Rosie had not seen her because the enmity between them was stronger than ever. Rosie seemed to blame Lizzie for Johnny’s decision to leave and whenever they met, the glare she gave Mrs Kinge was cutting.

  But now, when Lizzie saw the beautiful child in its mother’s arms, her heart gave a surprising jump and she felt a pain twisting her womb.

  I want a baby, I want a baby, she thought. When she reached home, she rushed down to the kitchen and started questioning Maggy about her sister.

  ‘Where’s Rosie living now?’ she asked.

  ‘She’s still in the same room. Some lassies from the mill stay with her and help pay the rent.’

  ‘How’s she raising that bairn of hers?’

  ‘Wee Bertha goes to Mrs Benzie every day, just like Vickie did.’

  ‘Who’s Bertha’s father, Maggy?’ Rosie had never married or set up house with any man and the identity of the child’s father intrigued Lizzie, but the question brought a shuttered look to Maggy’s face.

  She bustled off with a duster in her hand, calling back o
ver her shoulder, ‘Rosie never told me.’

  That was not really an answer, of course. It did not mean that Maggy did not know.

  The longing for a child was not so pressing after Lizzie started working with Mr Adams. Her first task when she went into his study was to read the investment pages of the newspapers to him as he sat in his deep chair with his eyes shut, nodding while he listened. Every now and again he would ask her to repeat a figure and sometimes he’d say, ‘Hasn’t that gone up? It was lower yesterday.’

  Before many weeks had passed she was feeling more at home among the mysteries of the financial market and sometimes was even able to express an opinion about what to do with money Mr Adams had available.

  ‘I’m thinking of putting something into the Carluke Bank,’ he told her one day and she pulled a face.

  ‘You don’t agree?’ he asked.

  ‘No, I don’t. There’s something I don’t like about it. I’m not sure what – just something.’

  ‘Feminine instinct! In that case I’ll leave my money where it is. I must listen to my adviser,’ he laughed.

  A month later the Carluke Bank crashed and when she read the details of its collapse to Mr Adams he reached out and clasped her hand. ‘Well done, my friend, you’ve saved me a few thousands.’

  After that he insisted on paying her. She did not want to take the money, saying, ‘I’ve nothing else to do and besides I love coming here,’ but he insisted.

  ‘If you don’t take a wage, I won’t feel that you ought to come. Let’s put this on a business footing, Lizzie.’

  * * *

  Autumn came round and brought Sam back to her bed again. She stopped working with Mr Adams and visited him only once a week as she had always done, though she missed their discussions. When she went, she always spent an hour or two reading the newspapers to him.

  Lovemaking with Sam was as passionate and satisfying as ever but each month she found herself tense, waiting and always disappointed. By the time Sam’s stay at home was over, and she was still not pregnant, she mourned to Maggy, ‘There’s something wrong with me. I can’t have a baby.’

  ‘You dinna want to be in such a hurry. You’re only twenty-four. You and your man couldn’t gallivant around the way you do if you had any bairns.’ Maggy had grown up with too many burdened women not to appreciate the responsibilities and sorrows children brought with them.

  ‘But I thought I’d fall for a baby whenever I wanted one.’

  ‘Some folk do, some don’t. My mother used to say my father had only to hing his pants on the bed head and she’d be having another.’ Maggy’s ideas about human fecundity were basic.

  When Sam went back to the Arctic, she resumed her days in Tay Lodge and now she had another interest as well. George had been ill during the winter and, though he recovered and went back at work, he was pale and thin, very much in need of looking after. There was no reliable woman running the house at the Castle Bar. The family had to put up with the services of a series of women who wanted the job because it meant they could steal nips of rum or gin whenever David’s back was turned.

  ‘Come and stay with me in Lochee while Sam’s away,’ Lizzie pleaded with George, but he shook his head.

  ‘I’m fine. I like living in the middle of town, all my friends are there. Don’t fuss, Lizzie.’

  The lads worried her too. They had grown into a turbulent and noisy pair who roamed the streets from morning till night and hardly ever went to school. She took to dropping in on them at unexpected times like a suspicious detective.

  One summer evening she arrived about ten o’clock to find the boys playing cards in the flat with a skeletal and coughing woman from the Vaults.

  ‘You should be in your beds. Where’s your daddy?’ she asked Davie.

  He shrugged. ‘Dinna ken.’

  ‘Don’t speak like that. Say you don’t know.’

  Then she turned to the children’s ineffectual guardian and asked again, ‘Where’s he gone?’

  The woman shrugged as well, raising bony shoulders under a threadbare shawl. ‘He went awa early this mornin’ wi’ the Keillers. He’ll be back the night sometime.’

  Lizzie’s old rage came welling up and she thumped her fist on the table, shouting, ‘He’s never here. He’s always away racing or shooting or acting the toff in some club or other. He’s neglecting his bairns. Davie and Robert, get your coats and come back to Lochee with me.’

  Early next morning, when David arrived home to find his sons not in the flat, he went searching for them up and down the town. As dawn was breaking Lizzie heard him knocking at her front door.

  Lifting the sash of her bedroom window, she called down, ‘What do you want at this hour?’

  ‘I’ve lost the lads. Have you got them, Lizzie?’

  ‘You’re a disgrace,’ she hissed. ‘What time is this to come looking for your bairns? Go away. I’ll bring them back in the morning. And you be in when I get there. I want to speak to you.’

  He was in and he was chastened, watching her face warily when she marched into the bar with the boys bringing up the rear. Without speaking she walked up to the flat, her father joining in at the end of the cavalcade.

  ‘You’re not bringing up those bairns right,’ she told him. ‘I never liked Jessie but I can’t sit back and see her laddies brought up by sluts of women. I’m sure the one who was here yesterday’s got consumption. She could give it to them. You’ll have to find a decent woman to look after them. They can stay with me until you do.’

  David coughed. ‘Hold on, Lizzie. That’s a good offer but it won’t have to be for long. You see I’m – er well, I’m thinking of getting married again.’

  She sat down in the chair beside the fireplace, staring at him. ‘You’re what?’

  ‘I’m getting married again.’

  ‘Who to?’

  There had been plenty of rumours around since Jessie died because one widow lady after another had set her cap at David. All of them had money in the bank and he could take his pick, but no one seemed to please him for long. Lizzie’s mind ran the gamut of the hopefuls as she waited for her father to reveal the name of the one he had chosen.

  ‘She’s a nice lassie but you don’t know her. She’s from Inchture.’

  The word ‘lassie’ worried his daughter. She asked suspiciously, ‘How did you meet her?’

  He was looking pleased with himself as he said, ‘Her brothers are in a set of us that go shooting out there. They’re farmers. The Keillers know them. It was John Keiller who introduced me.’

  ‘The Keillers?’ Her voice softened a little at the mention of the name for they were respected men of property and position in Dundee. Their factory employed hundreds of people making jams and jellies and when the oranges came in from Spain, the whole town breathed the blossomy taste of marmalade on the air. It even overrode the ever-present smell of jute. If the Keillers knew the girl’s family, she must be all right.

  David smiled and nodded but she noticed that he was still shifty, so her questioning recommenced.

  ‘Has she a tocher?’ Like many other people she believed that the only reason her father married Jessie Simpson was for the Castle Bar. Her jealousy would never allow her to acknowledge that Jessie had been a strangely sensual woman. If this new wife could bring some property or money into the family, so much the better, because her father was getting through the lads’ inheritance at a fast rate.

  He nodded. ‘She has. She’s been left a share in a fine farm up the Carse of Gowrie. Her brothers work it. They’ll give her an income from the profits.’

  Lizzie frowned. There was something wrong with this. ‘How old is this lassie?’

  David shuffled his feet and looked at his shoes. ‘Eighteen, nearly nineteen.’

  His daughter exploded. ‘My God, what’s wrong with an eighteen-year-old lassie that’s ready to marry a man old enough to be her father? She’s six years younger than me, she’s four years younger than Georgie. You’re a disgrace. Wha
t are folk going to say?’

  * * *

  Every autumn when Sam arrived home his wife was in a state of high excitement. The first thing they did when they set eyes on each other was rush to bed and make passionate love. Later they lay in delighted satisfaction beside each other and Lizzie started to pour out the events of the past months.

  There was so much to tell as they lay with their limbs entwined in the huge brass bed. She talked and talked until she felt his head nodding on her shoulder.

  ‘But listen, Sam, listen to this,’ she said, jolting him awake as he lay dozing at her side with his breath soft on her neck. ‘You’ll never guess what that father of mine’s done now!’

  ‘Mmmmm,’ mumbled Sam.

  ‘He’s getting married again!’

  That woke him up.

  ‘The old devil! Who to?’

  ‘A wee whey-faced, red-haired lassie called Chrissy. He brought her up here last week and I could hardly get a word out of her. She’s so shy. I can’t imagine how they’re going to get along together.’

  Sam was interested. ‘Quite a change from Jessie.’

  ‘In more ways than one. This lassie’s younger than me. She’s even younger than Georgie! She’s wee and thin and she looks as if she’s hardly out of pinafores.’ Her voice sobered. ‘I felt sorry for her when I saw her sitting down there beside my father. He’s so grey now and she’s so young. It’s not right, really. She should be marrying somebody her own age.’

  She rolled on to her side and kissed her husband’s cheek, reflecting that Chrissy would probably never enjoy the secret pleasures that she and Sam shared.

  He laughed his lovely gurgling laugh that always made her want to join in. ‘Your father’s a card, Lizzie. Where did he find this child bride?’

  But she was still frowning to herself as she thought about David’s next marriage. ‘It’s funny, I don’t think he found her. I think there’s more to it than that. She said something about her brothers arranging the wedding. I’ve a feeling they think he’s rich because he goes about with all those jute men and the Keillers. Maybe they’re making their sister marry him because of that.’