Down to the Sea

by Sue Lawrence

  ‘Would you like to stay here tonight?’ Rona asked. ‘We’ve got a nice room you could have, if you want.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Craig said to the old woman as he got up and walked round the back of the chair to whisper to his wife. ‘What are you talking about? Where can she go?’

  ‘We can put her in Miss Grant’s old room. It’s still all blank walls, but the bed is made up,’ Rona whispered.

  ‘I’d forgotten the family cleared her stuff yesterday.’

  ‘Yes, everything’s been cleaned – it certainly should all be ready now. But can you run along and check there are towels in the bathroom, please? Oh, and put on the kettle to fill a hot water bottle.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Craig, kissing the top of Rona’s head. He still smelled of smoke, as did the old woman, but Rona didn’t want to suggest washing her. She just wanted to keep her safe and comfortable.

  Rona studied the pale, lined face with that distinctive mole that extended from her upper lip to below one nostril. Her brown eyes were no longer wide with fear yet her expression was still unfathomable.

  Rona lifted the plate. ‘Would you like a biscuit? Anything else to eat?’

  The old woman stretched out her gnarled hand and took a digestive biscuit then patted Rona’s hand. There was a flicker of a smile, then she nibbled on her biscuit and continued to stare around the room again as if something was familiar, but she couldn’t quite place what.

  Ian wheeled the old woman out of the bathroom. She strained her neck to see out of the window.

  ‘You’ve got a nice view over the south side. In the morning you’ll see; it’s too dark now,’ he said, helping her into bed. She didn’t seem to mind Ian lifting her, nor Rona tucking her in. He wheeled the chair to the other side of the room. ‘I’ll pop in during the night to check you’re okay,’ he said. ‘Anything I can get you?’

  She shook her head then rested it on the pillow.

  Ian drew the curtains and she shook her head. ‘D’you want me to leave the curtains open?’

  She nodded and Ian pulled them wide open.

  Rona filled a glass of water from the jug by her bed then slipped her hand under the blanket and removed the hot water bottle. ‘I don’t want this to burn your legs,’ she said, smiling. ‘Can you tell us your name yet?’

  There was a sound at the door and the old woman opened her eyes wide.

  ‘It’s all right, it’s just Craig, my husband. I’m Rona, by the way. He and I run this care home. Ian’s the carer on your floor, so he’s the one who’ll look in during the night.’

  The woman nodded.

  ‘Any sign of Martha yet?’ Rona glanced at the woman whose brow was furrowed.

  Craig shook his head. ‘No idea where she is. I’ll nip round later. She must still be speaking to the fire brigade.’

  Rona looked at the woman again and noticed her eyes were screwed up tight, like a child’s if they were counting in Hide and Seek. Rona and Craig exchanged looks. ‘There’s a bell here. If you need anything, just ring and Ian’ll come straight away. He’s just along the corridor.’

  The woman’s face relaxed a little. As Rona stood up, she realised how odd it was not calling her by name, but they didn’t know what to call her. Then it struck her: was she the Miss Janet McCallister whose letter the postman had delivered and who Doctor Bruce had been sent to visit?

  Rona bent down.

  ‘Is your name Janet?’

  The old woman opened her eyes. She lifted herself up from the pillow and shook her head. Then she leant back against the pillow, shut her eyes and let out a long breath.

  Chapter 30

  1899

  Jessie stood at the sink, scowling at the pile of dishes. She had been keeping her head down since the day before when Matron had accused her of helping Bertha leave. She picked up the brush and started scrubbing the plates and spoons clean. They were all almost spotless anyway; everyone was so hungry, they left nothing behind. The inmates didn’t realise how lucky they were to have a cook like Molly who could make acceptable food from so little. Jessie had heard of other poorhouses with food that was almost inedible.

  As she sloshed water over the plates, Jessie thought back to the night before. She hoped Bertha would be all right. She and Dorrie had come up with a plan, and unless something unforeseen had happened, then at this moment Bertha would be on a ship leaving the port of Leith and bound for Canada. Jessie smiled. Her friend and bed-mate was on a ship going somewhere so strange, so far away. She, who was so cautious and careful, was on her way to the other side of the world. What would she do there? What would happen to her baby? How would they live?

  Dorrie’s friend Bob worked down at the docks and knew all about the ships getting ready to sail. He had told her there was one sailing for somewhere called Halifax the next day at noon and he’d always boasted that he could easily get someone on board. Since he was sweet on Dorrie and would do anything for her, Dorrie was going to take Bertha along to Leith at dawn and turn on the charm with Bob. There would be no problem securing a passage, considering what Bertha had with her, carefully hidden in the baby’s bootee in her underskirt pocket. Jessie worried that Dorrie might get into trouble with their mother, but she had been rising late recently because of her bad back and Dorrie said she could get home before she awoke.

  After Jessie had explained everything to Bertha and managed to calm her down, Dorrie had taken her inside and said she could lie down on her bed for a couple of hours. Jessie had given her friend one last hug and wiped her tears away. ‘You be sure to come back and see me with the bairn, Bertha. You’ll be married to a rich fisherman in Canada by then, you’ll see.’ Jessie could see Bertha was trying to be brave, but there was no disguising the fact she was terrified. Even in the dim light of the kitchen, Bertha’s eyes were wide with fear.

  She’d be fine now, of that Jessie was sure. Dorrie was reliable, she would have sorted everything out. Jessie remembered the final hug with her big sister and Dorrie’s words: ‘Try to come back here soon to see me. I’ll start talking to Ma about you coming back to live with us. She’ll get over it. She’s fallen out with Uncle Johnnie’s bidie-in, Meg Rae. Meg was the one poisoning her all the time about your curse. She’s a nasty piece of work. I’ll see what I can do, Jessie. I miss you.’

  Jessie had realised then that Meg was Annie Rae’s mother. Her entire family was bad. Jessie plunged her hands back into the greasy cold water, pulled out the plug, and with her sleeve wiped away the tears trickling down her face.

  ‘Jessie, where were you last night? Matron’s been asking me.’

  Jessie swivelled round, the drying cloth in her hand, to see Molly standing at the door, scowling. Her fingers drummed on the side of the sink. ‘Did you help Bertha get away? Is it true she’s with child?’

  Jessie shook her head and turned back to the plate in her hand which she rubbed over and over with the cloth.

  ‘So how come Annie Rae told Matron that? Is she just making it up?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ Jessie glanced round at Molly who was now over at the stove, tying her apron strings. ‘But I think Annie’s a nasty, spiteful lassie. She’s got it in for everyone, not just me.’

  ‘You could be right there.’

  ‘Was Annie’s mother in here too?’

  Molly nodded. ‘Yes, Meg Rae was a mean woman, but she got out of here somehow, so she went back down to Newhaven and she’s biding with a fisherman now, I hear.’ Molly sat down and pointed to a chair for Jessie to sit. ‘You realise what would happen if Matron or the Governor find out you helped Bertha get out of here?’

  ‘Got to be better than what would have happened to her if Matron had found out she was having a baby,’ Jessie muttered.

  ‘So it was true. She was having a bairn?’ Molly leant back against the chair and folded her arms.

  Jessie turned back to the sink. ‘She might have mentioned there was a chance …’

  ‘Good God, lass, why did you not tell me? I helped Lizzie
Smith last year when she was expecting. And MaryAnn Logan the year before. It happens. It happens in here more than it should but that’s none of anyone’s business.’ Molly turned and looked Jessie in the eye. ‘Well, until it shows, then the girl just has to get out of here. Fast.’

  Jessie wiped her hands on her apron. ‘Is it true Matron sends the girls down to the harbour at Leith if they’re found with child?’ Jessie looked straight at the cook and held her gaze. ‘Why would she do that?’

  ‘You know she’s really strict, Jessie, morals and everything. That’s all there is to it.’ Molly’s eyes narrowed. ‘Not so sure about him, mind.’

  Molly stood up, pulling down the line of cloths from the rail above the range. She sat down again and began to fold them on the table in front of her.

  ‘Matron’s horrible and scary and …’ Jessie stopped and looked up. ‘Why’s she so nice to Effie though, Molly? She never shouts at her like she does to us.’

  Molly did not look up at Jessie but continued folding the cloths and stacking them into a pile. ‘That’s different.’

  ‘Why? Why is that different?’

  Molly slipped a hand underneath the cloths, placed her other hand on top and lifted them over to the linen drawer beside the sink.

  ‘It’s just how it is,’ she said, speaking over her shoulder. ‘Now, let’s get started on the supper things. I need you to scrub those tatties.’

  ‘But why is Effie treated like a different person? Matron never forces her to tie her hair or even wash. It can’t be because she’s a bit simple. Or older, Janette Smith’s much older. Why is Effie treated differently?’

  Molly’s head bent low. ‘Because she is different.’

  ‘She wheels that pram around and wanders about all night. Matron lets her do anything she likes. Why? How is she different?’

  Molly turned round, her face flushed. ‘It’s not for me to say, Jessie. You’ll find out one day, maybe.’

  ‘I want to know now.’ Jessie’s brows were knitted in indignation.

  Molly sat down again beside Jessie. She leant in close. ‘You are getting in a state about nothing. Like I said, it’s none of your business.’

  ‘Why can’t you tell me, Molly? Please? I like Effie, she likes me. I want to help her but …’

  Molly leant over and tugged Jessie’s earlobe. She pulled Jessie towards her and hissed, ‘You’re not meant to know. No one is meant to know why she gets special treatment. Is it not obvious? Look at them both. Look at those eyes they’ve both got.’

  ‘What about their eyes?’ Jessie jerked her head away, squirming at the pain in her ear. ‘Effie’s got dark brown eyes, but I’ve no idea what Matron’s are like.’

  Molly bent down and looked straight at Jessie. She whispered, ‘Matron is nice to Effie because Effie is not what you think. Her real name is Euphemia Ramsay and she is the sister of Isabella Ramsay.’

  ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Matron. Effie is Matron’s sister.’

  Chapter 31

  1982

  ‘Where the hell is Martha?’ Rona was throwing Craig’s clothes into the washing machine as he came through to the kitchen after his shower.

  He shrugged. ‘No idea, maybe the fire brigade needed her to stay at the house with them for a bit longer. It’s all under control now. The chief fireman said it was fine and there’d just be smoke damage in that back room.’

  ‘I put all your clothes in to wash, by the way. They stank of smoke. We’ll get the new lady’s clothes washed tomorrow once she’s had a good night’s sleep.’

  Rona watched Craig as he opened the fridge door and pour himself a tall glass of milk. He’d been drinking a lot of milk recently, as if aligned with her pregnancy diet.

  Craig took a couple of gulps then sat at the table. ‘So who do you think the new lady is?’

  Rona moved towards her husband and stroked his cheek. ‘No idea, but thanks to you and Ian, she’s alive and well, just a bit shocked.’

  ‘What a horrible thing to go through, and at her age too.’

  ‘I know. She must’ve been fully aware there was a fire but she wasn’t able to get out of the room as she was stuck in her wheelchair.’

  Craig downed the rest of the milk. ‘She couldn’t have got out anyway, her door was locked.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Yeah, Ian and I tried the handle, realised it was locked, and I was about to put my shoulder to the door when Ian saw the key hanging above the door on a hook.’

  Rona frowned. ‘Like we do here for our residents so the night staff can get in without disturbing them?’

  ‘Suppose so.’

  ‘Why would Martha lock an old woman in a room? And especially when there was no possibility of her getting out if there was something like a fire?’

  ‘Beats me.’ Craig scratched his head. ‘Did she settle down all right?’

  Rona nodded. ‘I’ll nip along later to check she’s asleep. I asked her if she was Janet McCallister but she shook her head.’

  ‘Is that the person you said the doctor was going to visit?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, good point, I’ll call Doctor Bruce the minute the surgery opens in the morning. See if he can call round.’

  ‘And now, let’s go to bed. It’s late. There’s loads to do tomorrow.’ Craig stood up. ‘Remember one of us has to go to Miss Grant’s funeral.’

  ‘Oh, I’d forgotten about that. It’s all been so quick.’

  ‘Miss Grant had everything prepared in advance. The undertakers had been given a list of her funeral plans ages ago apparently.’

  ‘Ian’s not on tomorrow – it’s his day off – so could you go please, darling? Then I can take care of the new lady?’

  ‘Okay. I’ll go and look out my black tie.’

  In the morning, Craig was out of the annexe early. Rona dressed quickly then headed for the office. It was 8.30 a.m. which was staff handover time. She saw Ian coming out of the lift having finished his night shift.

  ‘Ian, how is the new lady? Did she sleep okay? Is she speaking yet?’

  ‘I’ve just been in, but she’s still sleeping. I thought I’d just leave her. I was about to brief Fay on everything, unless you want to?’

  Rona shook her head. ‘It’s fine. You crack on. I don’t suppose Martha’s been around? No idea where she went last night.’

  ‘Nope. Though the firemen said the house was okay, so she probably slept there.’

  ‘Suppose so. Can’t understand why she never came to see how the woman is, whoever she is.’

  Ian shrugged. ‘I’ll be in later, by the way. I said I’d give the new carer a hand.’

  ‘Thanks, Ian. What would we do without you?’ said Rona, as she watched Ian stride along the corridor towards the nurses’ station.

  Rona dialled the surgery number and waited.

  ‘Hello, Bangholm Loan Medical Practice.’

  ‘Oh, hello, it’s Rona from Wardie House Care Home here. Is it possible to have a quick word with Doctor Bruce please?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Doctor Bruce is off on holiday for two weeks. We’ve got a locum, though. Doctor Henderson.’

  ‘That’s fine. Could Doctor Henderson come round as soon as possible, please?’

  ‘Is it to see one of your residents?’

  ‘Em … yes, it is, yes.’

  ‘What’s the name?’

  Rona hesitated a moment, and then said, ‘McCallister. Janet McCallister.’

  ‘That’s fine, she’ll be there after morning surgery.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Rona crossed the hall towards the front door and looked up at the portrait on the wall. The brown-eyed lady seemed to be looking down at her. Was she smiling? She was sure her expression had appeared more stern before. She peered at it and noticed the silvery thing between her fawn gloves. Was it a jewel? From where Rona stood, it looked as if it could be a large diamond, though it wasn’t shiny. Perhaps that was just the thick brushstrokes.

  Rona grabbed her bag from the a
nnexe and opened the front door to a beautiful summer morning. She sniffed the air. Had there really been a fire at the lodge house last night? It seemed like a dream. There was a strong breeze and all she could smell were the fragrant tea roses as she walked down the path to the gate. As she headed round the corner, she wondered what Martha was going to say. Martha had some explaining to do.

  Chapter 32

  1899

  Jessie lay in bed, wide awake. She was churning over the news that Effie was Matron’s sister. Her name was Euphemia Ramsay and she was not what she seemed. She was not a poor, mad, ordinary woman – she was a lady.

  Jessie had wanted to ask Molly more about Effie but the Governor had knocked on the door asking Cook to bring him a hot toddy as he could feel a head cold coming on. ‘And be generous with the whisky!’ he had commanded.

  Jessie had dashed back over to the sink and then turned to look at the Governor. She had seldom looked directly at his face. Jessie usually stared at her feet if he addressed her. His nose was red and his thinning hair and bushy moustache were tinged with grey. His eyes were dark. Like Effie’s.

  ‘What are you looking at, child?’ He had scowled at her. ‘Get on with your work.’

  Jessie had plunged her hands into the cold greasy water and grasped the chain to pull the plug out. Only when she heard his footsteps disappear along the corridor had Jessie turned to Molly. ‘Is the Governor …?’

  ‘I’ve said enough, Jessie Mack. Don’t you dare say a thing to anyone else. I’ve got to go and see if Matron wants her evening tea yet.’

  Jessie wriggled down the mattress and opened her eyes wide to stare at the high ceiling in the dim evening light. None of it made any sense. How could someone as obviously well bred as Effie be an inmate – like the other poor souls whose lives had been so hard, they had been forced to live in this horrible cold, dark poorhouse where they had to work their fingers to the bone?