Catherine of Deepdale

by Millie Vigor

  ‘Give me your coat,’ said Catherine when they were in her kitchen. She let down the pulley; spread their wet coat on the rails and pulled the pulley back up. She pulled the kettle to the centre of the stove. Robbie having been fed, a cup of tea and a sandwich would do for her, but before she could get bread and butter out of the cupboard Laura was there.

  ‘I’m brought the eggs,’ she said and put a paper bag with the eggs in on the table. ‘Don’t take any notice of what Mina says,’ she went on. ‘It’s none of her business what you do. Norrie Williams is a good man, he’ll do right by you, don’t send him away, if you does you’ll be sorry.’

  Catherine looked at Laura. ‘Why, Laura, whatever brought that on?’

  ‘I have me reasons. Mina can be awful fierce at times and she does like to meddle in other folk’s business.’

  ‘What has she done to you?’ said Catherine.

  ‘It’s a right long time ago now,’ said Laura as she sat by the table. ‘I was goin’ wi’ a lad from the town, but Mina put such doubts in me mind I sent him away. He married another. I didn’t get a second chance.’

  ‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Catherine.

  ‘Don’t be.’ Laura gave a wicked smile. ‘Mina didna get even one.’ Then she laughed aloud. ‘But there’s more ways as one to skin a cat.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Never mind, but if Norrie asks you to marry him, you should. You’re a hard-working lass. You deserve to be happy. Now I’d better go.’ Laura got up and pushed her chair back under the table.

  ‘Here, let me pay you first.’

  The winter so far had been open; flurries of snow barely had time to settle and cover the ground before melting. But as January slid away the weather grew colder and February came in colder still. Frost gripped the land with a fist of steel. Sheep had to be fed daily, and as Catherine’s flock had increased in number carrying feed to them took longer. It was then more than ever that she missed Kay, but between them the aunts and Jannie helped out and little Robbie was only too happy to spend time with them, making sure the fire was burning well, the kettle filled and on the side of the hob ready for a hot drink when she got back indoors, Catherine kitted herself out with warm clothes and went to work.

  As Robbie’s birthday drew near she made biscuits and cake, cooked a ham and issued invitations to all the family to come to tea.

  ‘I ken you already have a dog,’ said Norrie, ‘but have you room for another should I give Robbie a pup for his birthday?’

  ‘I think he’d like that,’ said Catherine. ‘I’ll get it a collar and a bowl and all the things it’ll need.’

  ‘Next thing he’ll be wantin’ will be sheep. You’ll have to look to your laurels, Catherine; he’ll be beating you at your own game.’

  ‘Good; he’ll be following his father. What more could I ask?’

  ‘I’ll not come to the tea,’ said Norrie. ‘Likely it might make bad feeling.’

  Still the cold kept up and on the day of Robbie’s birthday Catherine was up early to get her outside tasks done. As she went round the inbye sheep she looked up at the hill. It was a bleak, forbidding place in winter and she was glad the hill sheep were brought to pastures lower down. Work done and indoors at last she made herself a hot drink, then went to fetch Robbie.

  ‘Look, Mam,’ he said, ‘see what Grandma’s given me?’ His little hands grasped a ginger kitten round its middle. The kitten’s legs pawed the air and from time to time it opened its mouth and mewed piteously. ‘It’s for my birthday.’

  ‘That’s lovely. It would be nice to have a cat, but hold it like this.’ Catherine showed him how to put one hand under its bottom and clasp it to him. ‘There,’ she said, ‘I’m sure it’s more comfortable now. Did you say thank you?’

  ‘Ay,’ said Jannie. ‘Does he have to go? Can he no bide wi’ me a bit?’

  ‘Yes. Why not? You can bring him with you when it’s time for tea.’

  Jannie was never slow to agree to look after Robbie. Catherine had come to the conclusion that the little boy was a link to her own son. When she went to pick him up she was never invited to stay, never offered a cup of tea, never asked how she was. The aunts, stiff-backed Mina, artful Laura, were different. They too were always happy to have Robbie stay with them. Mina taught him his manners; Laura spoiled him and when Catherine appeared there was always tea and a buttered bannock. Now they were all coming to tea at her house. Catherine looked at her table. Was there enough bread, had she made enough cake and was the ham properly cooked? It was too late now to change anything, so there was nothing left to do but pray that all would go smoothly.

  Mina and Laura were first to arrive. Mina gave Robbie yet another jumper and Laura a book about animals. Jannie had already given Robbie the kitten. Daa gave him a card on which he’d written a promise that he and Jannie would get him a bicycle. ‘It’s so you can ride to school when you go,’ said Daa.

  ‘Do I have to go to school?’

  ‘All bairns have to go to school,’ said Daa.

  ‘You’ll make a lot of new friends,’ said Jannie.

  ‘You’ll learn to read and write,’ said Mina.

  But Robbie turned down his mouth. ‘I can read now,’ he said.

  ‘Come and sit up,’ said Catherine. ‘Let’s have our tea.’ She turned to the others. ‘Please help yourselves.’

  The ham with fresh bread and butter was superb and by the time six plates were filled there was very little left. Mina complimented Catherine on the ham and Laura said how good the little cakes were. Daa nodded and smiled. The birthday cake, bearing five candles, stood on a cake dish in the middle of the table. Catherine put a match to them and as they burned Robbie laughed and clapped his hands.

  ‘Now you have to blow them all out,’ said Catherine.

  ‘You have to make a wish, then blow them all out at once,’ said Laura. ‘But don’t tell us what you wish for.’

  All eyes were on him. Holding his hand up to his mouth he rolled his eyes and sighed, then a smile spread across his face, ‘I wished for …’ he began.

  ‘No no, dinna tell us,’ chorused the aunts and Jannie.

  ‘It has to be a secret,’ said Daa.

  ‘Take a deep breath now,’ said Catherine as she put the cake in front of him, ‘and blow.’ He blew all the candles out and they told him he was a clever boy. The cake was cut and a slice put on everyone’s plate.

  When the food was gone and the presents opened the party was over. Jannie said she had a piece of work to finish and, telling Daa to come with her, went home. Mina and Laura thanked Catherine for the tea and said they had to go too. Catherine began to clear the table and get ready to wash the dishes.

  ‘Have you enjoyed yourself, Robbie? Do you like your presents?’

  ‘Why does Auntie Mina always give me a jumper?’ he asked.

  ‘Because she knits them so well and she knows I can’t.’

  ‘Here’s Norrie,’ said Robbie as a smiling Norrie opened the door.

  ‘And how’s the birthday boy?’ said Norrie.

  ‘I’m five years old now.’

  ‘Ay, you’re a big boy. I see your Mam’s peat bucket is empty. Would you come wi’ me while I get some? I could do wi’ somebody to hold the torch.’

  Catherine had stored her peat in an outhouse. Robbie, holding a torch, followed Norrie. ‘Shine the torch here, boy,’ said Norrie as he began to put peat in a bucket, then he stopped. ‘What’s that noise? Ah, there’s a box here. I think there’s somethin’ in it. Can you not hear?’ Coming from the box was a scratching sound and the whimper of an animal. The reflected light of the torch showed him Robbie’s puzzled face. ‘Shall we see what it is?’

  In a hoarse whisper Robbie said, ‘Yeh.’

  As the lid of the box was untied and lifted a wet black nose, followed by the face of a small dog, peered out.

  ‘Wonder what that’s doin here?’ said Norrie.

  ‘Is it lost?’ asked Robbie.

  ‘I
don’t think so, there’s a label on its collar. What does it say?’ Norrie held the label and with Robbie’s head close to his, read, ‘Happy birthday to Robbie, from Norrie.’ Lifting the puppy from the box he held it out to the little boy. ‘That’s my present to you. Look after him now.’

  Robbie threw his arms round Norrie’s neck. ‘That’s what I wished for when I blew me candles out. Wishes do come true.’

  ‘If they only would,’ said Norrie, ‘if they only would. Now, let’s show your mam.’

  THIRTY

  CATHERINE HAD INHERITED Kay’s sewing-machine and while Robbie was away was busy patching and mending their clothes. Robbie’s pup lay curled up with Fly and the kitten was asleep in front of the fire. A pot of broth on the stove simmered gently. Jannie had taken Robbie to Lerwick to buy him his bicycle. Catherine hoped she would keep him wrapped up warm for there was a cold east wind. Sewing finished, she put the machine away, cleared the table and turned her attention to the soup. She lifted the lid, gave it a stir and the smell of it wafted under her nose. It was just the right sort of food for such cold weather.

  Then Jannie was there with Robbie and a brand-new bicycle. The little boy’s eyes were shining with delight.

  ‘Look, Mam,’ he said. ‘It’s good. You have to learn me how to ride.’

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she said. ‘Did you say thank you to Grandma for it?’

  ‘Yeh, I did.’

  ‘Well, I’m thanking you too, Jannie’ said Catherine. ‘I’m grateful for all you do for him. It’s good to know he’s in safe hands.’

  ‘It’s no more as we should, he’s our kin,’ said Jannie.

  ‘Are you going to teach me now, Mam?’ asked Robbie.

  ‘No,’ said Catherine, ‘your dinner’s ready. You must have that first.’

  With hot soup warming their insides, and wearing coats, hats and gloves, Catherine gave Robbie his first lesson on riding his bicycle. With adjustments done so the saddle was the right height and the pedals within reach, she began.

  ‘Pull up the brakes like this when you want to stop,’ she said, putting her hands over his, ‘then take your foot off the pedal, lean over and put it down.’

  Robbie nodded and she hoped he understood. Holding the back of the saddle to keep him upright Catherine pushed him to get him going. Then, when he was moving she ran beside him as he pedalled on, then lost momentum and fell off.

  ‘You were doing well,’ she said.

  ‘Again, Mam,’ said Robbie as he climbed back on the bike.

  Again and again he fell off, but each time he rode further and with more confidence and with Catherine only giving him a push to start him.

  Getting off the bike properly, worked … almost … the first time, but the second time was better. The third time she said, ‘All you need now is to practise.’ By this time they were outside Jannie’s house, for the more Robbie grew in confidence the further he rode. Jannie heard them and came out.

  ‘I’m wantin’ to see how he’s doin,’ she said.

  ‘He’s doing very well,’ said Catherine. ‘I’m surprised how quickly he’s picked it up. He’s fallen off a few times, but no harm done.’

  ‘Gets more like his father every day,’ said Jannie. She began to cough, cleared her throat, then, with a hand cupped over her mouth, coughed again. ‘It’s the cold air,’ she said when she’d got the cough under control.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Catherine. ‘Thank you again for the bicycle.’

  ‘No bother,’ said Jannie, then, coughing again said, ‘I’m goin’ in.’

  ‘Not like you to have a cough,’ said Catherine, ‘you’d better take care.’

  ‘It’s nothin’. Just the time o’ year,’ said Jannie.

  Now that the Cheviot ewes were heavy in lamb Catherine went out to check on them twice a day, once when she fed them and again for a last look round before nightfall. Last year’s Iambs, Noble’s first offspring, were growing well and she thought she might enter one or two in the next show. Noble would certainly be there. Another year had seen him develop into a fine-looking animal. If Robbie had lived, how proud he would have been.

  She waited eagerly for the arrival of the first lamb, and as she ticked each day off the calendar her excitement mounted. This would be the year she should see some reward for her investment and all her hard work.

  The cold winds continued, but now rain threatened and Catherine prayed that the weather would improve. Though she still had the small outhouse where she could put new-born lambs and their mothers, because her flock was growing in number she would need bigger better accommodation in the future. Perhaps she could do something with the barn at the back of the house. There was another barn, but it needed quite a lot of fixing up. The roof leaked and the wind whistled through gaps in the wall. She knew sheep should not be coddled, and if penned needed plenty of air, but they did not need water dripping on them.

  When it wasn’t raining Robbie spent his time out of doors on his bicycle. The puppy Norrie had given him romped after him and Catherine smiled when she heard the little boy’s laughter. Mina and Laura looked out and smiled too, and Catherine was pleased that her son was bringing joy and happiness to them.

  The rain became incessant; sometimes it fell with monotonous regularity; at other times bouts of bright sunshine were interspersed with unpredictably hard storms. When she got caught in a fierce downpour on her way home from work her shoes, full of the water that dripped from her raincoat, squished with every step she took. As she drew level with the aunts’ house their door flew open and Laura called to her.

  ‘Come you in, Catherine,’ she said, beckoning urgently.

  ‘I can’t,’ said Catherine, ‘I’m soaked. I must get some dry clothes.’

  ‘All right then, but don’t be long.’

  Catherine put her wet clothes on the pulley, dried her feet and put on some dry things. Then she picked up an umbrella and ran to see what was troubling Laura. Had Robbie been naughty? ‘What’s the matter, Laura? Is Robbie all right?’ she asked. But Robbie was happily curled up in a chair with a book.

  ‘No, no, it’s not Robbie; it’s Daa, he’s not well.’

  ‘So?’ What had that got to do with her?

  ‘He’s not doin any work, he coughs all the time and he’ll not have the doctor, and Jannie says ask you. We’re awful worried. Mina’s there now; go you along. Robbie can bide with me.’

  Catherine hesitated. ‘If Daa’s that poorly Jannie should call the doctor. Daa wouldn’t be able to do anything about it,’ she said.

  Laura shook her head. ‘No, he won’t have him, and he wouldn’t let him look at him if he came.’

  As soon as she put her foot on the step of the Jameson house the door was thrown open. Mina had been looking for her. She greeted Catherine with, ‘I’m glad you’re here. Give me the umbrella. You ken Daa’s not well?’

  ‘Yes, Laura told me. What’s wrong?’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong wi’ me,’ said Daa. He was sitting in the chair by the fire. Nothing could have proclaimed more loudly that he was ill for, apart from Sundays, he was never idle. ‘You can go, we’re not needin’ you. You too, Mina.’ He doubled over then, and with hands wrapped across his chest he began to cough, on and on: a rasping cough which, when it was over, had him gasping for breath. Catherine watched as Daa sank down in the armchair. There were two high spots of colour in his cheeks: colour that was not normal.

  ‘How long have you been like this, Daa?’ she asked.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong, it’s just a chesty cold.’ A fit of coughing seized him again. When it was through he said, ‘Go home, lass.’

  ‘It’s not just a cold you have, you’re fevered. I’m sure you have a temperature,’ said Catherine. ‘You should let the doctor look at you.’

  Jannie glared at Catherine. ‘No doctor’s comin’ to this house,’ she said.

  Mina stood beside Catherine, hands folded in front of her. ‘You should listen to what the lass says, Jannie. You know she�
��s a nurse.’

  ‘Yea, I ken, but I’m tellin’ you we dinna need a doctor.’

  Daa put a hand to his chest as it rose and fell, his breath wheezing in and out. ‘I don’t know what you’re doin here, Mina. You can go away.’ Daa started to cough again.

  There was not much doubt in Catherine’s mind as to where Daa was heading if something wasn’t done. He should be put to bed and looked after, but he was proving to be as stubborn as Jannie. As Catherine picked up her umbrella Mina took hold of her arm. ‘He can’t go on like this. Is he going to die?’

  ‘I sincerely hope not. But I think you really ought to call Lumsden,’ said Catherine. ‘His chest is congested. You should get him to bed and make him stay there. Prop him up and if you have any cough mixture give him some.’

  ‘Could you not do that?’ said Mina.

  Catherine shook her head. ‘Surely you realize Jannie wouldn’t let me within a yard of him. What makes you think I could look after him?’

  ‘I’m not a nurse,’ said Mina, ‘but you are.’

  ‘I can only advise. Get him to bed and let me know how you get on.’

  During the weekend, when Catherine was free to do as she pleased, her mind turned often to Daa. Something should be done to relieve the congestion on his chest or it could turn to pneumonia. But it was not her problem; Mina or Laura would have to help Jannie look after him.

  Saturday went by and Sunday morning. Thinking that no news or call for help from Mina could only mean Daa was not as ill as she had thought, Catherine set about cooking dinner. She would go along and see how he was later. When the piece of meat for her and Robbie’s midday meal was in the oven and could safely be left for a while she put her coat on and went out of the house.

  At Jannie’s house she knocked on the door and opened it. Mina was sitting in a chair beside the box-bed, the curtains of which were drawn back. Jannie was sitting by the fire, knitting unworked on her lap. Daa was lying propped up in the bed. The sound of his breathing was dry and laboured.

  ‘Am I glad to see you,’ said Mina. ‘I was going to send Laura for you.’