Catherine of Deepdale

by Millie Vigor

  ‘Uncle Laurie left the house to me; he died not long after I joined up,’ said Robbie. ‘It’s in a bad state because it’s been left empty. But it’s ours, it can be our home.’

  ‘I thought we’d live in the town,’ said Catherine, ‘I’d rather.’

  Robbie shook his head. ‘Oh no, I could never do that.’

  ‘But, Robbie, I’m not going to find any work here and neither are you.’

  ‘Daa has given me his boat; I’m going fishing. Lobsters are making good money, I’m told.’

  A sudden feeling of impending disaster flashed through Catherine’s mind. ‘Fishing’s dangerous,’ she said.

  ‘Don’t be silly, I’ve been going out in the boat with Daa almost since I could walk. I love being on the water. Please don’t ask me to do anything else.’ Robbie put his arms round her unwilling body.

  She could feel his warmth; hear the steady beat of his heart. Was fishing something else that was secret? But lobsters were not found in deep waters, he would not be taking the boat far out to sea, all the same …’

  ‘If you help me,’ said Robbie, ‘we can do the house up and you wouldn’t have to share with Mam.’

  ‘How long would that take?’

  ‘Not long if I can get some more help.’

  How long was not long? He was offering her a home, a wreck at the moment; maybe it could be made nice, but was it enough? When she showed a lack of enthusiasm he released her, put his hands on her shoulders, pushed her away from him and looked down at her.

  ‘I know I was a fool to keep you in the dark,’ he said. ‘I know I should have told you what to expect, but I’m not going to keep on apologizing for it.’ She had been looking into his eyes, now she hung her head. He put a hand under her chin and lifted it. ‘It’s up to you now, I love you, but do you love me enough to make a home and a life with me?’

  The wind sighed in the chimney.

  Jannie was knitting. Catherine, a book open on the table in front of her, abandoned her reading to watch. The piece of work under Jannie’s hands seemed to grow visibly and Catherine was amazed at the way the Fair Isle pattern emerged. To her eyes it was extremely complicated, yet Jannie never once faltered or checked that the pattern was right.

  ‘Where’s Robbie?’ said Jannie.

  ‘He said he was going to help his father.’

  Jannie merely nodded her head and made no reply. Only the click of knitting needles, the tick of the clock and the lazy grunts and quirks of a kettle on the hob disturbed the silence. Warmth radiated from the stove where a pot of broth simmered, but otherwise the atmosphere was one of ice.

  It’s up to me, thought Catherine; I have to try to get through to her. ‘Are you making a jumper for yourself?’ she asked.

  ‘For me? No, no, it’s for the merchant in Lerwick, he buys what I make.’

  ‘Oh.’ So did Jannie knit jumpers for pin money? ‘I never learned how to knit,’ said Catherine.

  ‘Huh,’ went Jannie as, her fingers never hesitating for a moment, she glanced at Catherine, ‘then you’d better.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You has to do your share of gettin’ money in, can’t leave it all to Robbie.’

  ‘I don’t intend to. I shall get a job.’

  ‘Ha, and what are you goin’ to do wi’ hands like yours?’ Jannie’s finger was pointing. ‘Robbie needs a wife who can work wi’ him, cuttin’ peat, plantin’ tatties and helpin’ wi’ the sheep. Not one that wants pretty clothes and time to read books. You’ll be no use.’

  Catherine snapped her book shut. What did she have to do to get through to the woman? ‘You don’t know that,’ she said. ‘I’m a state registered nurse. I worked full time in a hospital. I’m no stranger to hard work.’

  ‘And what’s a nurse,’ spat Jannie. ‘Anyone can bandage a finger.’

  ‘You’re right there, but it’s much more than that. You don’t train for years to bandage a finger.’

  ‘But a nurse is no use on a croft.’

  ‘I wouldn’t be too sure of that.’

  Jannie bent her head over her knitting again and muttered, ‘You don’t know anything about croft work. You should go home now, give Robbie a chance to find someone as would suit him better.’

  ‘What did you say?’

  Jannie stopped knitting and lifted her head. ‘I said you would no way ever be a croft wife. You should go home. You’ll only be a hindrance to the boy.’

  Resisting the urge to throw her book at Jannie’s head, Catherine, her eyes blazing said, ‘If you think you’re going to intimidate me and get me to leave you can think again. No one tells me what to do, least of all you.’ As she spoke she leaned across the table and the anger behind her words made Jannie press back into her chair. ‘Thank you very much for your kind words, Mrs Jameson. I am going to stay and if you want a battle you shall have one.’

  FIVE

  AS HE WALKED Robbie cursed himself for his thoughtlessness in not telling Catherine what life in Shetland was like. He had been a fool to be so sure she would accept the way he lived without question. But why wouldn’t she? He gave a wry grin as he remembered how she had wound her arms round his neck, said she loved him and that she would live anywhere with him. But her reaction to his home had made him see it through her eyes. How small the house seemed now, how old-fashioned and behind the times, but he had grown up with it and had seen nothing wrong with it. It was his home and while he had been away his thoughts had been full of the day he would be back. If Catherine could not accept his way of life and insisted on leaving he had no one to blame but himself. He had left her with his mother now and he wondered if that had been wise, for there was little doubt that she would not hesitate to show her displeasure at his choice of wife.

  In spite of all the hassle it was good to be home, for this was the time of year he liked best. Though the earth was still sleeping there was an air of expectancy about it, soon it would be waking, terns and skylarks would return to nest along with curlews and golden plovers. Other birds would come back too and their calls would be music on the wind. Always there was the wind; thank goodness they had travelled up before the equinox and the gales that tended to come with it, which could sometimes be horrendous. The sea had been rough enough and he knew Catherine had not enjoyed being on the boat.

  He was on his way to join his father and hadn’t far to go; he could hear the snock of a hammer blow and the echoing knock, knock, bouncing off the hillside. There was his father’s pony cart at the bottom of the hill. Robbie went up to it, ran his hand along the animal’s back through the grizzled mane then down the animal’s hard nose. He put his palm under the silky muzzle. ‘Well, Flyn, old boy, you’re still here then,’ he said and was answered with a throaty rumble. Robbie smiled, patted the horse and left him while he climbed the hill to his father. ‘Hi Daa,’ he called.

  John Jameson put down his hammer, waited for Robbie to join him, waited when he did and stood to recover his breath. ‘You are not fit,’ he said.

  ‘No. Ships decks are flat, Daa, I’ve not been climbing many hills.’

  ‘I hear you. How is Catherine today?’

  ‘She’s not in a good humour, in fact she’s mad at me.’

  ‘Why, what’s wrong?’

  ‘She says I didn’t tell her what it was like here. Say’s she’ll leave.’

  ‘Are you a fool, boy? You should have had more sense.’

  ‘Ay, but I didn’t. She didn’t think much of Laurie’s house either.’

  ‘Likely she was used wi’ somethin’ better.’

  ‘Yes, she was. Her da has a business and her folk live in a fine house. I’ve left her home wi’ Mam now.’

  John Jameson chuckled. ‘And that was another fool thing to do. Jannie’ll not hold her tongue and the lass had better be able to fight back. If she’s still there when we get home, likely she’ll stay. Now, let’s get this done before dark.’

  ‘Mrs Burnett, are you home?’ called Catherine. When she got no answer she c
alled again. ‘Mrs Burnett, hello, Catherine here.’

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ said Kay, coming through from her bedroom. ‘Just open the door and come in like everyone else. And call me Kay, my dear.’

  ‘All right, do you have a local paper and could I borrow it? I’ve decided to stay, so I need a job.’

  Kay opened a drawer and took out a newspaper. ‘I’m so glad. It’s time we had some young people in the valley,’ she said. As she spread the paper on the table she added, ‘Shall we look together, I can tell you who not to work for.’

  ‘It might be difficult to find something,’ said Catherine, ‘I’m a nurse and I don’t expect there’ll be many jobs open to me, but I’ll do anything.’

  Heads together they studied the classifieds. There were no vacancies for nurses, but a cleaner was wanted at the doctor’s surgery at Broonieswick.

  ‘Would that do till something else comes along?’ asked Kay. ‘Dr Lumsden is an awful nice man; he’s doctor to everybody round here and certainly all of us.’

  ‘I know where Broonieswick is. When is the surgery open?’

  ‘Today, two till four. You have to sit and wait your turn.’

  ‘Right, I’m off.’

  ‘You’re not …’

  Catherine didn’t wait for Kay to finish, ‘Yes I am,’ she said. ‘Bye.’ Twenty minutes later she reached the surgery and was glad to take her place in the waiting room and sit down. ‘And what can I do for you, young lady,’ said Dr Lumsden when she was at last sitting opposite him.

  ‘I’d like to be your cleaner.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you have made an application and come for an interview?’

  ‘Why waste time on that? I need a job.’

  ‘Really, and what makes you think this one’s for you?’

  ‘I’ve never worked as a cleaner before,’ said Catherine. ‘I’m a nurse, but there are no vacancies at the moment, which is why I’ve come to you.’

  ‘A nurse. Where did you do your training and did you complete it?’

  ‘In Southampton and yes, I did.’

  ‘So you’re state registered. Tell me more.’

  Neil Lumsden held back the smile that threatened to spread across his face as he listened to what Catherine had to say. This was not just a cleaner, but pure gold, if not a diamond. He sat back in his chair, steepled his fingers together and looked at her. Catherine wondered if he was going to turn her down.

  ‘I don’t really think you’re cut out to be a cleaner,’ said Lumsden.

  Catherine took a deep breath. ‘But I need to work and I’ll do anything.’

  ‘I know, I appreciate that, but wouldn’t you rather be nursing?’

  ‘Well, it’s what I trained for.’ Catherine’s heart sank. He wasn’t going to give her the job, perhaps someone else had applied and beaten her to it.

  It was then that Neil Lumsden allowed himself to smile. ‘The health visitor for this district is about to retire. Wouldn’t that suit you better?’

  ‘But I would need extra training for that, wouldn’t I?’

  ‘Yes, I’m afraid you would.’

  ‘Which would mean I’d have to go away,’ said Catherine, ‘because I don’t suppose you do that here, do you?’

  ‘No, it would be four months in Edinburgh, and you’d need to drive.’ Shaking her head Catherine looked down at her hands, hoping to hide her disappointment. ‘I can’t drive either,’ she said.

  ‘That could be arranged.’

  Being the health visitor would be ideal, but for the moment it was out of the question and, though that didn’t mean for ever, she needed a job now. She looked up and smiled. ‘I’d like to be your cleaner, please,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t want to be the health visitor then?’

  ‘Not now, perhaps later.’

  ‘All right. No one else has applied so when can you start?’

  ‘As soon as I can get a bicycle,’ she said.

  Lumsden stood up, shook Catherine’s hand, and smiling down at her said, ‘When you’ve got the bike come along and I’ll show you what you have to do.’

  Dusk had fallen and it was beginning to rain when Catherine got back to Deepdale. Lamplight gleamed in the window of the Jameson house, she looked in. Robbie was standing over his mother; he looked angry. She heard raised voices, Robbie’s was loud. She hesitated a moment and listened.

  ‘How long has she been gone?’

  ‘Two hours, maybe,’ said Jannie.

  ‘Where did she go, did she say?’

  ‘Never a word.’

  ‘Mam, what have you been saying to her?’

  ‘I said nothin’.’

  ‘I don’t believe that. I know you don’t like her but you could try,’ said Robbie. ‘She’s my wife. You’d better accept it.’

  Catherine opened the door. ‘Hello, I’m home.’

  Robbie looked up when he heard Catherine’s voice and his relief at seeing her was obvious.

  ‘Where have you been?’ he demanded.

  ‘Thank you, nice to see you too, I’ve been for a walk.’

  Jannie, a scowl on her face, bent her head and began to knit.

  ‘I was worried about you,’ said Robbie.

  ‘Oh dear, did you think I’d run away? You don’t have to worry, I’m here. It’s starting to rain again.’ She smiled at him. ‘I’ll put my coat away.’

  John Jameson had gone out to the barn to feed his cow; Jannie was, as always, knitting; Catherine was reading a book and Robbie was studying the newspaper. Apart from the click-clack of Jannie’s needles, the soft shush of pages being turned and the slither of ash in the ash pan, the room was quiet. From time to time Robbie looked over the top of his paper at Catherine. There was something different about her; she looked relaxed and happy, as though she were keeping a secret. Something had happened. Daa had said if she was here when they got home she would stay. She hadn’t been, but she was now.

  A rattle of stones and the sound of skidding outside the door broke the silence. Catherine started up. ‘Whatever was that?’ she cried. There was a crash then, as of something thrown down, which was quickly followed by the scrunch of boots on stone flags. The door opened and a face appeared round it.

  ‘I heard you was home, Robbie.’

  The lad who slid round the door, pushing it shut behind him, was a tall, gangling colt of a boy with arms and legs that seemed to have a will of their own.

  Without turning her head, Jannie said, ‘Sit down, Billie.’

  Billie pulled a chair out from the table, sat down, stuffed his hands in his pockets and tucked his feet away beneath the chair. ‘Mam said to come over and ask you to tea on Sunday, Robbie,’ he said. ‘And to bring,’ he inclined his head toward Catherine, ‘that one.’

  ‘“That one” is Catherine,’ said Robbie, ‘and that one,’ he said to Catherine, ‘is my cousin, Billie.’

  ‘I was thinking you would come to the meetin’ house wi’ me,’ said Jannie. ‘You can’t do that if you’re going to Rose’s for tea.’

  ‘Mam’ll be going,’ said Billie. ‘They can go wi’ her.’

  ‘Thanks, Billie; tell your mam we’d like to come,’ said Robbie. ‘We’ll go to the meeting’ house wi’ her and see you there, Mam,’ he said to his mother. ‘Now, Billie, would you like a job?’

  ‘Doin’ what?’

  ‘I’m going to do up Uncle Laurie’s house, and I need some help.’

  Abruptly Jannie stopped knitting and sat motionless. When the needles stopped clicking Catherine looked at her and guessed that Jannie was not best pleased at what she was hearing.

  ‘I’d have to ask my daa first,’ said Billie, ‘but he’ll not say no. Why are you going to do it up?’

  ‘Catherine and I are going to live there,’ said Robbie. ‘I’ve got to get stuff organized first, but when I have I’ll let you know when to come over.’

  ‘Fine that,’ said Billie. ‘Mam said not to be late, so I’d better be going.’

  As Billie left John Jameson c
ame in. ‘It’s no wonder that bike of Billie’s is a wreck,’ he said, ‘the way he treats it.’

  ‘Rose should buy him a new one,’ said Jannie, ‘That one is dangerous.’

  ‘You know she won’t do that,’ said Robbie. ‘She keeps her purse locked and barred, every penny’s a prisoner as far as she’s concerned.’

  ‘You’re not saying she’s mean, are you?’ said Catherine with a laugh.

  ‘Mean? She’d put Scrooge to shame.’

  ‘Now that’s not fair,’ said his father. ‘Rose was only four when her daa was drowned. Her mam brought her and her brothers up on her own. Rose learned early that money doesna grow on trees.’

  ‘Ay, but she’s not short of a coin or two now.’

  ‘Maybe not, but you never know when disaster will strike.’

  ‘Is there a bicycle shop in Lerwick?’ asked Catherine.

  ‘Yes,’ said Robbie. ‘Why do you want to know?’

  ‘I would like to have a bike.’

  SIX

  CATHERINE HAD TO admit that though there was not a lot of room in the box-bed it was comfortable and warm. They were lying there, he with his arm round her.

  ‘I could get you a bike,’ he said. ‘Why do you want one?’

  ‘I need it to get to work,’ she said. She felt his arm tighten round her, his body tense.

  ‘Work?’

  ‘Yes. I got myself a job.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘At the surgery, I’m going to be the cleaner.’

  ‘But you’re a nurse.’

  ‘I know. This won’t pay much, but Dr Lumsden asked me if I’d like to be the health visitor. That would mean training in Edinburgh and I don’t want to do that. Not yet, anyway.’

  For a moment or two Robbie maintained his grip, then with a sigh he relaxed. He said nothing, but pulled her round to face him and began to kiss her. Gently his lips touched her forehead then her cheeks, but when they found her mouth his kiss was full of passion. He held her tight, so tight that she knew how afraid he had been that he might lose her. She had been angry that he had not told her what to expect and had punished him; but the fault was as much hers as his; she should have asked more questions. She was here now though and going to stay. She put her arms round his neck and pulled him close.