Trapped In She Town
Serena MacKay
PUBLISHED BY:
Serena MacKay
Copyright © 2013
www.SerenaMacKay.com
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be copied, reproduced in any format, by any means, electronic or otherwise, without prior consent from the copyright owner and publisher of this book.
This is a work of fiction. All characters, names, places and events are the product of the author's imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
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Aberdeenshire - October 1870
Mary Johnston flew into the country lane leading back to the village of Summerhill with her heart singing. She ran through the fiery, red and orange leaves that were starting to fall from the elm and sycamore trees that bordered the lane. The wind was just starting to whip at her clothes and hair. The green, shapeless, woollen dress that she wore couldn’t disguise her slim, shapely figure as she tore along, head thrown back and a huge face-splitting grin across her beautiful, unblemished face. As usual her long, wild and untamed, chestnut hair was breaking free from the pins that struggled to hold it in place, and was tumbling down out of her bonnet, round her face and shoulders. She kicked the autumnal leaves with joy; she just couldn’t believe it was true. George Cassidy had actually brought up the subject of marriage. Of course, he had only tentatively mentioned it – he would want to ask Mary’s father properly for the hand of his daughter - but he had definitely said that he wanted to marry her - little Mary Johnston.
George, a farm labourer, had been given an afternoon free from the fields, because of the successful completion of the harvesting the week before, and had asked Mary to accompany him on a picnic. She had begged her mother and father to allow her to go. Not only did she feel like she needed a rest from the continual household chores that were required of her, but her heart always skipped a beat when she saw the handsome, rugged face of George. Her parents also knew how hard she toiled in the house, that they eventually relented and said she could go.
“As long as you’re home by three thirty to get the evening meal prepared” her father had given in gruffly.
It was now twenty past and she would need to fly like the wind to make it the two miles back to the cottage. She knew she would never make it in time but nothing could dampen her spirits today even the light rain that had started to fall.
It had been a beautiful autumn day and she could still see the lovely picnic that George had laid out, and hear the musical song of the blackbirds in the trees that bordered the field where they had laid down the picnic rug. They had both talked about their mornings. George had told Mary about the sick calf he was tending and how the mother wouldn’t stop bellowing until she saw her baby. She in turn told George of the mayhem of her morning; the chores that she had rushed to complete, in double quick time, so she could get away early to meet him. He laughed loudly as she described getting tangled up in the bed sheets as she had tried to pin them onto the wash line, before he hesitantly turned the conversation around to the future - their future to be precise.
She could hardly breathe when he had mentioned the word marriage and and that she was the only girl he ever wanted to marry. Trying to stay calm and grinning from ear to ear she told him that she did not want anything else in the world except to marry George. However, she also had to explain with a sinking heart, that she couldn’t leave her mother and father yet as she was needed at home to help with the chores and her younger siblings. Her sister Beth would not leave school until the next summer when she would be able to take over the household tasks. So Mary would not be free to leave home and marry George until the next summer.
“I’ll understand if you don’t want to wait that long” she said in a shaky, little voice.
George had suddenly jumped to his feet and grabbed her up, into his strong, muscular arms, twirling her round and round. “Of course I can wait until next summer, silly“ he responded and Mary’s heart soared once again.
But now she had to stop dilly dallying and get home. Why hadn’t she left earlier? She knew how long the trip back to the village was and now the rain was coming down in bucketfuls. She should never have let George detain her past 3 o’clock, but it was so hard to wrench herself from his strong, manly embrace and she turned red as she remembered the intensity of his kisses as she tried to leave. Her skin felt raw around her mouth where his stubble had rubbed and chafed. He had looked at her with such longing that all she wanted to do was collapse into his arms and sink back down on to the rug with him.
Suddenly, she heard the sound of a horse’s hooves coming along the lane and stood aside to allow the horse and cart to pass. It was Tom Moffat the baker from the village.
“Hop on board, young Mary – you off home?” Tom shouted.
“I am, Tom. You’re a lifesaver. My Da would have had my guts for garters if I wasn’t home to start peeling the spuds by half past.” Mary laughed her face shining with happiness.
“How’s your mother doing?” asked Tom.
“Well, she still seems really exhausted, Tom. She hasn’t risen from bed yet, this time round.”
Mary’s face took on a graver expression at the thought of her mother. She had given birth two days before to a sickly baby brother and she had also lain in bed for two months before the birth, on the doctor’s orders. She knew her father was really worried about her.
But her big, gruff, lovable father was also sick. His plough had tumbled down an incline last year, with him still strapped to it, and he had badly twisted his back. He still had to hobble to work each day though, so the family could eat. However when Mary got home, to her surprise, her mother was up and peeling the potatoes at the sink. She looked so pale and exhausted that Mary quickly took off her coat and hurried over to her mother saying “Let me do that mother you shouldn’t be peeling the spuds.”
“What else was she going to do when you are out gallivanting” her father grumbled.
"But Da, you know I just took an afternoon to go and see George. He wants to marry me you know" she burst out.
"Marry you!” her father replied and shot a quick look at Mary’s mother. “We'll have to see about that won’t we. You know you are needed in this house while your Ma is sick. I should not expect to come home from a hard day toiling in the fields to have no potatoes peeled. The children will be home from school soon”.
“Da! I’m peeling them now.” Mary replied “I have already told George that I am needed here. But surely come next summer when Beth finishes school I can be relieved and allowed to marry George.”
Again, Mary saw the look that shot between her mother and father, before her father said ”We’ll talk of this at a later date, Mary.”
“George wants to do it right, Da. He wants to come and ask you for my hand. I’m sure he just got excited today when he mentioned it to me. We are so in love and...”
“Enough Mary!” bellowed her father.
~~~
Mary was the eldest of 6 children, not including the newborn William, and since she had left school last year at 17, she had been helping her mother with the household chores. Mary’s teacher had wanted her to stay on and continue her education. She had been the brightest child in the school however she was now needed at home. There was always so much to do, especially since her mother had taken to bed, and she did not seem to be getting any better.
Mary had been stepping out with George for six months. He was the on
ly child of a tenant farmer and was expected to take over the tenancy when his father retired in 2 years time. He was 6’1” tall with broad shoulders and a handsome, chiselled face with dark brown hair that flopped in waves over his deep chocolate brown eyes.
Aberdeenshire - May 1871
Monday started out like any other day for Mary. She was up at 6am to wash herself and then out to collect the eggs from the hens that her mother kept. She made breakfast for her siblings and after they had set off for school she started on her day’s chores - Monday was washing day and that meant the strenuous task of washing the bedclothes. Mary’s sore, chapped hands were already beginning to show signs of the hard work she was getting used to. She would set the kettle to boil on the fire and then stripped the bedclothes from all of the beds, ready for washing. She poured the hot water into the big wooden tub which was out in the back yard and got the big bar of soap from the kitchen and shaved off a piece to put in the tub. She took one of the large white sheets and started to scrub. Mary loved to sing as she did her chores as she found that this helped her to keep going when her arms ached from all the scrubbing. Then she had to get the old wrench out of the shed and feed the sheets through it one by one. Once she had them wrenched, she hung them out to dry in the sunshine. Today was a lucky day she thought to herself, as the sun was out and shining brightly. If it had been the usual grey drizzle of March she would have had to carry the sheets into the kitchen and hang them up there. However, this made the sweeping and cleaning inside difficult with the damp sheets hanging around never quite drying.
In the afternoon after serving some soup to her Mother, Mary swept the front room and the 2 small bedrooms. One room for her mother, father and baby William. The other for her and all her siblings. She shared a bed with her sisters Beth and Lizzie while the boys shared a bed on the other side of the room. Luckily none of them had many belongings as there was nowhere to store them.
Once the sheets were dried and back on the beds, Mary would start the preparations for the evening meal. Things had been getting very tough for the Johnston family since her father had had his accident last year, and he was now often away from his plough work sick. His back could no longer take the strain. The farmer, Mr Brown tried to keep the job open for him, as he had been such a good worker in the past, but had told him last week that he couldn’t have any more days away from work. So her father hobbled away up the lane towards the farm each morning with his face set against the pain.
Mary was getting to be a dab hand at making the food go further. Tonight again there would be no meat so she would make an omelette from the eggs she had collected this morning, adding any vegetables she could find to make it go further.
She had noticed all her brothers and sisters getting thinner over the last few months, but most of all she had noticed her mother. Since giving birth to William her mother Agnes had never really recovered her strength and now spent most days in bed. Mary thought to herself that tonight she would eat less of her meal and keep some extra for her mother.
Suddenly the door banged open and there was her brother James in the doorway, quickly followed by the rest of her siblings. The peace of the house was shattered with the noise as they all tumbled in the door of the little cottage, which suddenly seemed to be bursting at the seams. The evening meal was a noisy affair and afterwards Mary's brothers and sisters would help to clear the table and wash and dry the dishes. Evenings were usually spent in front of the fire, sewing and mending clothes - so all the clothes could be handed down to younger members of the family. Everyone would tell their tales from the day. This had always been Mary's favourite time of day, even although her body ached from the tiredness of her day’s work; she loved hearing all her siblings stories.
However tonight, as the last of the dishes were being put away in the kitchen, Mary's father and mother came into the room and told all the children to go through to the front room, except Mary. They sat Mary down at the table and explained that her father had been talking to Mary's old school teacher, Mrs Pryce, in the village. There was a vacancy in a large house in Dundee - a very prestigious post. It was about 90 miles away, however her father explained that they desperately needed the money that Mary would earn in the house. He was unsure how much longer he would be able to work and so they would need an additional income to ensure there was food on the table. Beth would leave school three months earlier than originally planned to take over Mary’s household chores.
Mary was to leave the next day with the ticket having already been bought and paid for by the rich family in Dundee. She did not get a chance to say good bye to George. She begged her mother to let her go and speak directly with him. But she was told there was not time as she needed to pack and prepare to leave first thing in the morning. Her mother did agree though that she could use the last of the candle to light her room later. There she could write a quick note to George to tell him the unexpected and devastating news. She thought of his large capable hands holding the little note. How would he feel? Would he feel she was running out on him? She wrote begging him to please understand that she had no choice in the matter, and that she still loved him dearly.
~~~
The next morning she was washed and dressed again in her shapeless green dress. She pulled on her thick stockings over her shapely, long legs and slid her feet into the elastic sided boots which had been her mothers and were slightly too big. Once she had buttoned up her old, worn, brown coat she was ready to leave. Her father had borrowed the horse and cart from the farmer as he, Mr Brown, needed some goods delivered to the market in Aberdeen that day. He had agreed that Mary’s father could take the goods by cart, and also drop Mary at the station, where she would board a train for Dundee.
She had not had any time to get used to the idea of leaving her family, and so Mary was in shock as she said goodbye to all her brothers and sisters, then she clung to her mother sobbing. “There, there Mary” her mother chided.”You need to be strong. I know you have the strength inside you to deal with this. Always remember - you will be helping to support all of your brothers and sisters, and of course I’m sure you will be able to come home and visit us at Christmas. Come along, let’s get you up and on the cart” Mary climbed up onto the seat of the cart beside her father. Her small battered case was in the back of the cart along with the goods to be delivered to market in Aberdeen. She looked down fondly at her family and the little cottage where she had lived and loved her whole life up to that point.
“Gee Up!” her father called to the horse, and they were on their way.
When they reached the outskirts of Aberdeen, Mary looked around in wonder at the houses which were made from the locally quarried grey, granite stone. Mary knew that Aberdeen was nicknamed the “Granite City” but today all the houses seemed to be glittering silver in the bright sunlight. The sunshine seemed to lift Mary’s mood slightly and she thought to herself “This will just be for 12 months. Just until Da gets back on his feet properly. I’ll be back in no time to marry George.”
At the station, Mary’s father stopped the cart and helped Mary down with her case. He quickly grabbed her to him in a big bear hug. “Mary, my own wee petal, take care. I’m sorry you have to travel so far but the wages from this job are needed so badly at home with all the wee uns. Look after yourself”. And he just as quickly hopped back onto the cart and called over his shoulder, “Just follow the instructions on the note when you get to the station at Broughty Ferry.”
Then he was away in the direction of the market and Mary realized, all of a sudden, that she was on her own. She felt sick to the pit of her stomach and panicked when she felt she couldn’t breathe.
“You alright m’love” asked an older woman who was clutching a small boy’s hand.
Mary gulped trying to get her breathing under control. “You need to sit down.” the lady said worriedly, as Mary kept gulping trying calm herself. “Look there’s a bench over there. Let me help you”. The lady helped her over to the bench.
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br /> “Whaur’r ye aff tae love?” she enquired.
“I’ve got to get the train” replied Mary and the lady laughed.
“Yer in the right place then pet” she joked. “Whaur ‘r ye gettin the train tae?”
“Broughty Ferry, the station before Dundee” Mary managed to get out.
“Weel, ye need to go doon them stairs there, and ask the mannie at the bottom, which platform fir the train tae Dundee. Ye got yer ticket?”
Mary was clutching her ticket in one hand and her instructions in the other. She nodded and gulped back the tears before they came flooding out.
“I need te be on ma way noo” the woman said. “Doon them stairs, alright love.” Mary nodded dumbly as she couldn’t trust herself to open her mouth to speak without crying.
The family in Dundee had paid for Mary to travel in the second class carriage. When she saw the third class carriages she nearly wept with relief. The passengers were standing in what looked like cattle trucks. Soon Mary was settled on the train and when it left a few minutes later with a screech of the whistle and a great belch of smoke she was shunted forwards in her seat and held on to the arm rest tightly with a look of fright on her face.
Then as the trains wheels moved rhythmically beneath her, Mary cried softly, watching the rolling, grey North Sea through a mist of tears.
Broughty Ferry, Dundee
After almost 3 hours on the train, Mary eventually arrived at Broughty Ferry train station. She placed her bonnet on top of her curls and then grabbed her gloves and her small battered case, and alighted from the train. It was a small station slightly below street level and Mary walked along the platform towards a painted sign that said “EXIT”. Once she had shown her ticket to the station master, she climbed the flight of stairs that led to street level. She felt in her pocket for the piece of paper where the instructions to the Muir’s House were written, in an unfamiliar hand.
Trapped In She Town : A Romantic Novella (The Jute Mills Series) Page 1
