Mistress of Green Tree Mill

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

  The first letter from Spain arrived six weeks later. Lizzie sat beside her drawing room fire reading it with close attention.

  Lexie made it all sound very vivid: ‘It took me a month to reach the fighting. I went by train to Toulouse and there I met up with an organization that guides parties over the Pyrenees. We walked for days. My feet were bleeding. You should see my face. It’s so brown the freckles have disappeared…’

  Lizzie smiled at that. She read on: ‘It’s not been easy to find Ninian. Every time I turn up at a place where his unit has been fighting, they’ve moved on. At least he’s still alive. I’ve been able to discover that much. In the meantime I’ve joined up with a Lancashire doctor who runs a mobile operating theatre in a very battered van. His driver was killed the day before I arrived and he enlisted me, though I couldn’t really drive. You’ve no idea how quickly I learned. We treat casualties at the battles, which all seem to be bloody defeats. Bullets sound just like angry bees when they whiz past your head! I’m not frightened. I think: If I’m killed, too bad. There’s work to be done and Ninian to be found. I send you all my love, Your sister Lexie.’

  Maggy came bursting unceremoniously into the room and Lizzie was so interested in the contents of her letter that she was not annoyed but looked up to say, ‘I’ve had a letter from Lexie. She’s in Spain driving an ambulance.’

  Surprisingly this news seemed of little interest to Maggy, who said importantly: ‘There’s a visitor to see you.’

  Lizzie brushed hair back from her face and said, ‘Oh, what a nuisance. I’m tired and I’m not expecting company. Who is it? Can’t you put them off?’

  Maggy crossed her arms. ‘Not this visitor. It’s meh brother. It’s Johnny back from America.’

  Lizzie sat up in her chair in surprise. ‘Johnny Davidson! Did you know he was coming?’

  Maggy shook her head. ‘No, but we wrote to him about Bertha and then when Lexie went away I wrote and said how badly Rosie’s taking it. She’s worse than ever now she’s alone all the time. He never said he was coming over but he’s here and he wants to see you.’

  ‘Bring him in then,’ said Lizzie and Maggy stuck her head round the drawing room door, startling the stillness of Tay Lodge by shouting, ‘In here, Johnny.’ In her excitement she cast away all the training that had been so painfully put into her over the years.

  Lizzie blinked at the sight of the imposing man who entered the room. Tall and silver haired, dressed in a grey suit of the most elegant tailoring with a silk neck tie and a matching handkerchief flopping out of his breast pocket, he moved with assurance towards her chair like a character from a Hollywood film.

  ‘You’ve hardly changed at all,’ he said in a voice that retained no trace of the Dundee accent.

  She could only shake her head and say, ‘You’ve changed a lot.’

  ‘I hope so. I was a raw laddie when I left,’ he said with a laugh.

  Maggy bustled in with a tray of glasses and a decanter of whisky.

  ‘Men like whisky,’ she said to Lizzie, who raised an eyebrow at the sight of this offering so early in the afternoon, but Johnny held his drink untouched while he explained what he planned to do.

  ‘Maggy says Rosie’s in a state of shock and depression. Obviously she can’t be left like that. I’ve come over for a couple of months to see what can be done. I’d really like to take Rosie back with me. I’ve a big house and it’s empty. My son and daughter are married and my wife’s living on her father’s place further up the coast. We’re divorced, you see.’

  There was a hiss of surprise from Maggy and with a glance at her, Johnny said, ‘It’s quite common in America – divorce, I mean. We’re friendly still but we don’t live together. I guess it was my fault. I was never at home. Anyway, I want to help Rosie. I hope she comes to the

  States with me – and you too Maggy if you want to – America is God’s own country. I’ve a garden as big as Blackness Park.’

  He was so large, so confident and so obviously rich that even Lizzie felt intimidated by him. It was difficult to find any trace of the diffident young Johnny in this man who sat at the other side of her fireplace organizing things with such confidence. He did not seem too impressed by Tay Lodge as he drank his whisky before taking his leave.

  Maggy was recruited to guide him to Rosie’s house but he turned at the door and said to Lizzie, ‘I’ll come back and see you again if I may.’

  She nodded without speaking. He left her breathless.

  * * *

  Lexie was a good correspondent. A letter arrived the following week to tell Lizzie that the war was going badly for the Republican side. Men were fighting with rusty weapons and canonry that was as likely to explode and kill its own operators as it was to damage the enemy. Lexie was working day and night in the operating theatre, bandaging wounds, easing the dying and helping to bury the dead.

  ‘Yesterday I wondered if it would be possible for someone who never believed in religion of any kind to become a Catholic – just like that. I’m so impressed by the bravery of the priests we meet in Spain,’ she wrote. It seemed as if she were using her letters to Lizzie as a way of working out her own thoughts. It was obvious that as well as being drawn towards religion she was questioning Communism as well.

  ‘I’m very angry,’ said a postscript to her letter, ‘I’ve just heard a Communist recruiter – an Englishman of course – saying to one of our wounded Dundee men who’s lying here on a stretcher that it would be a pity if he died before he joined the Party. War sickens me.’

  Her third letter, dated 3 October 1938, was short. ‘The doctor I work with was killed today – machine gunned by a German aircraft as he bent over a dying man on the road. He was a good man and I almost loved him. The war’s just about over – and we’ve lost. I’m tired of it all and I’m driving the van to Barcelona to see what happens. Pray for me – your loving Lexie.’

  * * *

  Lizzie’s next meeting with Johnny was in her office at Green Tree Mill. Her health had improved during the summer and she had begun going back to work – but, her doctors ordered, for the afternoons only.

  Johnny drove up in a hired Rolls-Royce and as he looked around the mill compound, he laughed and said to Lizzie, ‘Who’d have guessed it when we were pushing your wee brother in his pram along the Esplanade? Who’d have guessed it, Lizzie?’

  He took her hand in both of his and said jubilantly, ‘We’ve come a long way since then, haven’t we?’

  She nodded solemnly. ‘A lot has happened. Sometimes I find it difficult to believe it’s all happened to me!’

  Johnny’s eyes were concerned as he looked at her. ‘What you need is some time in the sun,’ he said, for she was very pale and thin.

  Before she showed him into Lizzie’s sitting room at Tay Lodge Maggy had warned him that he’d find Lizzie changed and was anxious that surprise did not show in his face. He had controlled his feelings but had not expected the alteration to be so drastic. Lizzie looked ill. She was driving herself on by pure will power and he longed to put up a hand and tell her to stop.

  ‘You’re worried,’ he said. ‘What’s the problem? Anything I can help with?’

  ‘I don’t think so. You won’t know my half sister Lexie. She wasn’t even born when you went away – she’s my father’s and Chrissy’s child.’

  ‘I know about her. She’s been living with Rosie and she’s badly missed there.’

  ‘How is Rosie?’

  ‘So unlike herself, it’s worrying. I want her to shout and swear the way she used to, but she’s stunned. I’m trying to persuade her to come to America with me and I’ve almost succeeded. Maggy’s offered to pack her things but she won’t leave the flat till your sister comes back. She says there has to be a home for her.’

  ‘Oh, poor Rosie. She’s like me. We’ve been receiving bad news all our lives… I remember the day I heard about my mother – then Sam and my father and poor Georgie.’

  And Goldie, especially Goldie, sai
d a voice inside her head, but she did not want to speak of him to Johnny.

  ‘…I had to tell Rosie about her mother, and Lexie told her about Bertha,’ she went on, then looked up at Johnny to say, ‘I only hope no one’s on their way to tell us about Lexie.’

  ‘Why, what have you heard?’

  ‘Just a letter to say she’s driving her ambulance to Barcelona. That’s where the Republicans are holding their last stand, according to today’s paper.’ She waved a hand at the sheet lying on her, desk.

  ‘Rosie says that this Lexie’s some girl. Not one to be taken lightly – not even by Franco.’

  ‘I’m afraid for her. She’s my sister,’ said Lizzie quietly.

  * * *

  Johnny Davidson seemed reluctant to leave Dundee. As the weeks passed he showed no irritation at Rosie’s vacillations. She refused to commit herself to going to America.

  ‘I want to see Lexie again before I leave,’ she said, but the last note sent to the flat said that Lexie was on her way to Barcelona. No one had heard anything since, and almost a month had passed.

  One afternoon Johnny arrived at Green Tree Mill and said to Lizzie, ‘Come for a drive with me. It’s a nice, bright day and I want to see the sights.’

  They drove up the Forfar Road and out into the country; they drove to Broughty Ferry and home along the river bank, passing the docks and Shore Terrace, where Lizzie turned her head away as she glimpsed the granite building that had been Goldie’s office. When they chugged slowly up the Law Hill towards the monument to the dead in the Great War that stood on its summit, she suddenly cried out:

  ‘Stop the car!’

  The driver pulled up and Johnny asked anxiously, ‘What’s wrong? Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes. I want to look. It’s lovely from here.’

  She turned in her seat and stared hungrily at the city – her eyes picking out particular places in the clear light. She saw the bridge without fear now; she saw Green Tree Mill with its chimney stack smoking for another day’s work; she saw the line of fine houses along the Perth Road and the clump of trees that marked her own garden; she saw the docks and the corner where the Exchange Coffee House had once stood; the Steeple Church and Castle Street leading uphill from the river; the Esplanade where she had walked with Sam and pushed wee Davie in his pram; the hotel where she’d spent the night with Goldie. Her entire life was spread out before her and she gazed at it for a long time until she was satisfied. Then she sighed and said, ‘Take me home now, Johnny. I’m very tired.’

  He helped her into the house and sat watching while Maggy administered brandy and held a black bottle of smelling salts to her nose.

  When she was revived, she said, ‘Don’t go away, Johnny. I want to talk to you.’

  They spent an hour closeted in conversation and he returned the next day and the day after. Maggy tried quizzing him on what they were talking about but he gave nothing away.

  ‘Lizzie and I are talking business,’ was all he said.

  It did not satisfy Maggy but it was true. Lizzie had started their discussion by saying, ‘I need advice about my estate.’

  He looked cautious. ‘You must have lawyers.’

  ‘Of course. It’s not that sort of advice I’m needing, though. I want someone to help me make up my mind about things. Someone who knows me. I’m not being morbid and of course I’ve made a will but it doesn’t satisfy me, really. If I talk about it will you listen?’

  ‘I’ll listen,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Do you remember the day you asked me to look after Maggy?’

  He nodded, his eyes dark. ‘I wondered if you remembered that,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve never forgotten. I’ve always thought of you with great affection.’

  He tried to take her hand but she shook her head. ‘No, Johnny, I don’t mean that. You said you loved me, but I didn’t love you. I liked you and I respected you but I didn’t love you. It’s not us I want to talk about.’

  He sat back and nodded. ‘I’m still listening.’

  ‘First of all I want you to know that even if I die first, Maggy will be well looked after. I’m providing an income for her and leaving her a house – not this one, she’d hate it, but one she can live in. It’s called Gowan Bank and it’s on the river bank at Errol. It’s a lovely house. I used to be very happy there.’

  Johnny did not ask questions, only nodded and kept his eyes on her face.

  ‘My personal fortune and Tay Lodge will go to Charlie, of course, but he’s – he’s always been wild. It’s my fault, I know. I brought him up very badly. He’s doing well on his own without my money and I’ve worked too hard for it all to be wasted on horse racing. He was here yesterday talking about some racehorses he’s bought!

  ‘So I’m leaving money in trust for Olivia when she’s grown up, but I’m very rich – the amount I’m worth even surprises me – and I don’t think it’s good for young people to have too much too easily. I don’t want to ruin Olivia the way I ruined Charlie. She’s a clever child and could be something if she has a living to make, but if she’s rich she probably won’t bother. I don’t want her to be one of those smart, idle young women you see hanging around in the town tea shops waiting for someone to marry them.’

  Johnny nodded in agreement. Since his return he had met Charlie and his silent wife whose most engrossing interest was spending money, and felt that Lizzie’s decision was a good one.

  She was looking earnestly at him. ‘I need your advice about what to do with the rest of my money. I’m going to sell the mill, you see. It’s too tiring for me now and Charlie doesn’t want it. Even after my other bequests I’ll have almost a half a million pounds to give away.’

  Johnny didn’t flinch. He was used to talking in large figures. ‘There’s several things you could do,’ he said, furrowing his brow. ‘What about funding something at the infirmary or building houses for old people or leaving money for bursaries for clever children whose parents can’t afford to educate them…?’

  She shook her head. ‘No, that’s not what I want. I want to do something different. I want to help the women. You know better than I do how they live. I used to think they were just feckless but I realize that I was deceiving myself. I’d like to make amends in a way because I’ve amassed all this money through them as well. What should I do?’

  Johnny’s memory went back to his mother and her daily trouble to find enough food for her children.

  ‘That would be good if you could do it,’ he said.

  Lizzie surprised him by saying, ‘I remember your mother, you see. She was such a decent woman and she gave everything to you children.’

  ‘Start a trust fund that’ll give grants to deserving families,’ said Johnny.

  ‘Who’d run it?’

  ‘You name the trustees. Pick people you trust and who you know will be fairminded.’

  Lizzie’s expression lightened. ‘That’s a good idea. I’ll call it the Elizabeth Mudie Trust – I’ll use my maiden name because it all started when I was a child, really. Thank you Johnny, you’ve given me something to think about.’

  * * *

  When word went round that Green Tree Mill was for sale there were many eager bidders. Within a day a price was accepted and the deal was done. Rumours of another war meant that jute was booming – Lizzie was selling at the right time.

  ‘I want everything done quickly,’ she said, as if afraid she might change her mind, ‘I want to hand over at once. Then the lawyers can tie everything up.’

  For her last morning at the office she dressed like a queen in a tight-fitting purple toque hat adorned with a diamond clasp and a nodding plume of black feathers. Her body was swathed in a floor-length sable coat. All the workers gathered together in the big courtyard around the place where the old tree once stood to hear her farewell speech.

  ‘We’ve been in partnership for a long time,’ she told them, ‘and though there have been ups and downs, we’ve done well together. I’ll miss Green Tree an
d all its people very much…’ Her voice broke and when they saw her tears many of the women workers wept with her.

  The manager announced that her parting gift to them – from the office workers to the smallest nipper in the sheds – was three days’ paid holiday and a bonus of a month’s wages.

  At that they cheered her till the heavens echoed and she stood erect among them, haggard but proud. She had achieved what she had set out to do – she’d transformed Mr Adams’ lethargic little mill into one of the largest in Dundee. I did it on my own and I’ll miss it, she told herself, looking around at the grey stone buildings for the last time.

  As she was being driven home she did not turn to look back at the mill with its tall chimney stack and sprawling sheds where she had spent so much of her life, only flinched a little when the iron gate with the tree symbol in the middle clanged shut behind her for the last time.

  * * *

  After she gave up the mill her health became more fragile and the doctor ordered that she spend every morning in bed. She was lying against piled-up pillows reading the newspapers when she heard a great commotion breaking out in the downstairs hall. Then the bedroom door burst open and Lexie came rushing through. In trousers and a long black leather coat, she looked magnificent with her red hair flying and her thin face vivid with a tan that did almost obscure the freckles.

  She held Lizzie in a close embrace, feeling a rush of emotion that surprised them both with its intensity. Together they said, ‘I’ve been so worried about you.’

  Lizzie answered first. ‘I’m quite well. I’m growing old but I’ve a few years to go yet, I hope!’

  She looked at Lexie and said, ‘You’ve changed. You look magnificent. You look very happy. You found Ninian?’

  Lexie laughed. ‘Yes, I found him. I found him in Barcelona in the square where the survivors of the Brigade went to hear La Pasionaria. I literally walked into him!!

  ‘La who?’ asked Lizzie.