It was almost nine o’clock when she finally stopped. There were still some odds and ends to be packed, things she was using, but that wouldn’t take long. Her back felt as if it would never be straight again, and her eyes were stinging with the dust she had disturbed in her all-out onslaught, but she had accomplished what she set out to do.
She was enjoying a cup of tea, letting it swill round her dry mouth and slake her parched throat, when the door was pushed open. ‘George!’ she cried, and promptly burst into floods of tears.
He rushed over to her. ‘What’s wrong, Katie lass?’
‘Oh, God!’ he groaned, when he learned that Mary Ann was dead. ‘I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you.’ He knelt down at the side of her chair and put his arms round her, holding her trembling body against his chest. ‘Oh, lass, I’m sorry. It must have been terrible for you.’
It was not until her sobbing stopped that he noticed that the room was bare. ‘What happened?’ he asked. ‘Where’s all the ornaments … and the cushions … Katie … ?’
‘I’ll have to sell the house.’ she whispered. ‘for there’s no money left to pay for the funeral.’
Letting his arms fall, he stood up. ‘What I made this trip wouldn’t be enough, I don’t suppose, and we’d have to wait till after my next trip before we got any more. But stop fretting, lass. If we’ve to give up this place, we can move in with my mother till I can afford to get another house.’
She hadn’t meant to tell him the rest, but it spilled out of her – the money Mary Ann had made out there was but which hadn’t turned up, Mary Ann’s note, the slip of paper with the safety pin. ‘I’m not who I thought I was,’ she sobbed, ‘and I don’t know who I really am, and I’ll be stealing if I keep the money I get if I sell the house.’
Even though his mind was in a turmoil with the things she had told him, he could understand how anxious she must be about her identity. ‘You’ve no idea who this June is?’
‘No, I’ve never heard of her before. I think she must have died, and they got me instead, but Grandma did say the house would come to me.’
‘It’s a real puzzler, but if she said you were to get the house, it’s yours, Katie, and the money you get for it would belong to you.’
‘You’re not just saying that to stop me worrying?’
‘No, I’m sure I’m right. Now, we’d something to eat the time we were settling up, and I’m not hungry, so what about going to bed? You’ll feel better in the morning.’
It was the first night they had ever been alone in the house, but Katie thought she could feel her grandmother’s ghost hovering over her, telling her she had no right to sell it, and she would be stealing if she kept the proceeds. She was thankful that George just held her in his arms and expected nothing of her.
Chapter Twenty-seven
First thing next morning, George went out to buy some rolls, and while they were having breakfast, he said, ‘If you’d waited till I got home, I’d have given you a hand to clear things out.’
More relaxed than she had been the previous night, Katie smiled. ‘It’s all done, except the loft, and Granda used to say there was just a lot of rubbish up there.’
‘I’ll make a bonfire and we can burn what you don’t want to keep. We’ll get started after we do the dishes.’
When they went up the rickety ladder William John had kept outside, Katie was astonished at the amount of things lying about. ‘It’s like Aladdin’s cave,’ she gasped.
‘Nothing valuable, though,’ George said, ruefully, lifting some old books. ‘Love stories,’ he added in disgust, laying them down near the open trapdoor.
‘They can’t have been Grandma’s, any road, for she didn’t know anything about love.’ Katie looked thoughtful as she remembered something. ‘She did say once she’d another lad before Granda, but maybe she made it up.’ Recalling that it had been at the time when she was upset that George had quarrelled with her about Sammy, she didn’t elaborate.
By lunchtime, George had built a big heap of junk in the yard ready to burn. ‘We’d best stop for a wee while,’ he puffed. ‘I’m peching like an old horse with going up and down that ladder, and I could do with something to eat.’
‘You should have let me carry something down.’ Katie banged her hands against her skirt to get rid of the dust. ‘I could take this box of rusty keys, goodness knows what they’re for and they’ll have to be thrown out. What do you want to eat? Will I run up to the baker for hot pies?’
‘That’ll do fine, and I’ll go through this old kist till you come back.’
When she called him some ten minutes later, he came down with an old brass sextant in his hand. ‘This should be worth a good bit,’ he told her.
‘Granda never went to sea, it must have been his father’s, or his grandfather’s.’
‘We could sell it to an antique shop. We’d have to clean it up first, of course, though I’d like fine to have kept it. If ever I get my own boat – but there’s not much hope of that. There’s a sewing box, and all, a real bonnie bit of work, rosewood inlaid with mother-ofpearl, I think.’
‘That’s likely Grandma’s, so put it on the bonfire.’
‘Oh, Katie, it’s too good to burn. Do you not want to keep it to remind you of her?’
‘I want nothing of hers – she never wanted me here.’
‘Don’t be bitter, Katie. She must have wanted you when she took you in.’
‘I can’t help it, and I still feel guilty about selling the house. It’s not mine to …’
‘Mary Ann said it was yours.’
Noticing an edge to his voice, Katie thought, morosely, that the old woman was going to come between them yet.
They said no more, and went silently up the ladder again to clear away the remaining bits and pieces. At last, only the old sea chest was left, and they took a handle each and manoeuvred it down the ladder. Lifting the sewing box he had set on the table, George offered it to Katie, who snapped, ‘I told you I didn’t want it! Put it on the bonfire.’
She moved away to turn the piece of meat she had bought at the butcher’s when she was out and had put in the oven to cook, and George sat down with the sewing box still in his hand. After a moment, he removed the sectioned tray holding the needles and threads, scissors and tape measure, and looked into the compartment underneath. ‘Katie! Come here!’
‘What is it? I was going to pare some tatties.’
‘You’d better come and look at this. It’s a bankbook.’
‘So that’s where she had her money.’ Katie went to look, her eyes almost popping out of their sockets when she saw her name on the inside of the cover as the holder of the account. What they discovered in the next instant staggered them both, although there was only one entry. It showed that, on 1st July 1907, a deposit of £1500 had been made.
‘It looks like Granda must have done it not long after they got me,’ Katie gasped. ‘Why, George? I’m no relation.’
‘You must be. Oh, Katie, you’ll not have to sell the house after all.’
‘But I can’t understand it.’
‘There’s no doubt about it. It’s in your name, so it’s all yours.’
While Katie puzzled over it, George slipped his hand into the sewing box again and drew out a fat envelope. ‘It’s for you,’ he murmured.
She took out the pages to lay them on the table so that they could read them together. ‘It’s Grandma’s writing,’ she said, tremulously.
Dear Katie,
You will be well on your way to the Howe of Fenty now and with your grandfather out of the way, I am writing what I should have told you years ago, and I have to go back a long way so you can understand why I couldn’t. Andrew Baxter and me fell in love when I was sixteen, he was from Portknockie but we went steady till he had to go back to sea. He said he would wed me when he came home from the herring, so I got the banns cried and everything ready. On Hogmanay, one of the lassies made me go with her to a dance and I let her brother see me home, f
or it was a wild and stormy night. That was all, but when I told Andrew he would not believe me, and he wed another lassie instead.
He broke my heart and I never got over him, and I wed your grandfather out of spite, really, though I did come to care for him. Any road, you can imagine how I felt when our son took a girl home, for her name was Lizzie Baxter and she was Andrew’s daughter. I hated her for that, and I would not go to their wedding, and I never went to see her all the time she was carrying, not even when your father came and told me she had a bad time at the birth.
A month after that, your grandfather found an infant in a basket at our door one morning. There was a note pinned to the shawl. This is your grand-daughter, it said, her name is June. I made him go to their house, but they had gone away. We never found out where they went and we never heard from them.
I thought June was too fancy, so I called you Katie, after my grandmother, she was a strong-minded woman and I have the feeling you have grown up the same. I loved you from the minute I held you in my arms, but I could not show it, for I was ashamed at how I treated your mother. The only thing I could think on was put money in the bank for you, so you would be independent after I died. It was what my grandfather left me, he was captain of a whaler. The sextant was his, and the sewing box was my grandmother’s.
It has helped me to write everything down, for it has been on my conscience, and I hope it will help you as well, but I will hide it away so you will not get it till I am gone. I was a foolish bitter woman, Katie, and I hope what is in the bank will help you to forgive me for the things I did.
I am, as I always have been,
Your loving grandmother,
Mary Ann Mair
Looking at her husband in amazement when they came to the end, Katie gulped, ‘After all the bad things I thought about her … oh, George! Why didn’t she tell me before?’
He took her hand. ‘Aye, she should have. But it means you really were her grand-daughter, and you’ll not have to sell the house when you’ve got all this money.’
Katie was not to be consoled. ‘But I was nasty to her at the end, when she couldn’t help being the way she was.’
‘Aye, that’ll be hard for you to bear, but she brought it on herself, when all’s said and done. If you’d known she loved you, you’d have felt different. Look, lass, you’ve had as much as you can take, so I’ll pare the tatties for you.’
When they had eaten – Katie only picking at the beef – she said, in a small voice, ‘I want to be by myself for a wee while, George. You wouldn’t mind if I went out, would you?’
‘No, but are you sure you’re fit to be out on your own?’
‘I just want a minute or two.’
She walked along the shore for the first time in months. It felt strange to be sitting in the same old place looking out to sea, not like it used to do. She didn’t know what to say, for she couldn’t voice the thoughts that were coiling round inside her brain, each one twisting through another until it seemed they were in a knot she could never unravel. The letter had made her understand why her Grandma had been unable to speak of her love, for there came a point when it was impossible to communicate – she had reached it herself – and she wondered if she could transmit what was in her mind to the Three Kings.
Katie was oblivious to the passing of time, but gradually she could feel her thoughts untangling – or had her attempt at telepathy succeeded? ‘I know who I am,’ she reflected, aloud, ‘and why Granda and Grandma brought me up. The only thing I don’t know is where my mother and father are, but if they didn’t want me before, they won’t want me now, and I don’t care. I don’t need them.’
‘I guessed this is where you’d be,’ came a quiet voice from behind her.
She did not look round. ‘George, I don’t feel right about having all that money. I don’t deserve it after what I used to think about Grandma. Should I give it away?’
Sitting down, he picked up a handful of sand and let it trickle through his fingers. ‘Mary Ann meant it for you, but if you want to give it away, I’ll not stop you. Pay for her funeral and do what you like with the rest of it.’
Still concentrating her eyes on the three blurring shapes, she was acutely conscious of her husband waiting silently beside her. She had a sudden urge to do something for him, to prove how much she loved him, to prove to her grandmother that she was strong-minded and could stick to any decision she made. Drawing her feet towards her, she clasped her hands round her knees. ‘I know what I’ll do.’
‘Whatever you say, it’ll be all right with me.’
‘I’ll give you the money, so you can buy your own boat.’
‘Oh, no! I couldn’t let you do that, Katie.’
‘You said I could do what I wanted with it.’
‘But not that!’
‘Not even if it makes me happy? Please, George?’ Jumping to her feet, she put out a hand to help him up. ‘My mind’s made up, and it’s time we went home.’
He put his arm round her waist as they strolled back to the house. ‘I was thinking when you went out, there would be … um … over twenty-three years’ interest to go on to what’s in the bank. I wouldn’t be surprised if it was nearer two thousand by this time, maybe more.’
‘You’ll be able to get a bigger boat, then.’
‘Are you sure that’s what you want to do with it?’
‘I’ve never been surer about anything.’
‘I’ve always dreamt of having my own boat …’
‘Well, then, that’s it settled!’
‘I’d have to see about how to get my skipper’s ticket. I know I’ll have to pass tests and prove I can …’
‘You can ask Alickie May about it tomorrow, and you can go to the shipyards in Buckie to see about buying a boat, and all, and I’ll start unpacking again.’
No ghosts bothered her that night, and it was a very happy, and very satisfied, Katie who murmured, just before she went to sleep, ‘I don’t care how much you’ve to pay to get a decent boat, as long as you call it the Mary Ann.’
Betty knew that Angus was going to the woods every day. All his shoes, except his best pair, had mud on the soles, or moss, depending on the weather, and she had picked up some twigs around the house. She’d been glad that he was taking walks to pass his time, but tonight, when she came up to their bedroom to change out of her shop clothes, she had noticed a few bits of bark on the next flight of stairs, which made her feel most uneasy.
‘What were you doing up in the attics?’ she asked when she returned to the kitchen.
His smile was quite open. ‘I sometimes go up there and sit for a while. It’s a change from sitting down here.’
She let it go at that. It had been a long winter, so it must have been boring for him being on his own all day, and he was probably telling the truth. Now spring had come, he would get out more.
Angus went to bed first and was asleep when she went up, so she undressed as quietly as she could and slid in beside him. He had been restless these past few nights and she did not want to disturb him. She lay quite still, thinking about the salesman she had employed a few months earlier. He had been by far the best applicant for the job, but she should not have taken him on, for she had felt attracted to him even then, and he felt the same about her, if she was any judge … not that he’d said anything. He was an honourable man and, although he was a widower, he would not let himself get involved with another man’s wife.
Her mind on Henry Ferguson, Betty inadvertently dug Angus in the back with her elbow when she turned round, and was astonished when his hands lashed out at her. ‘God damn you, Katie!’ he roared. ‘Keep still!’
She remained absolutely motionless, scarcely daring to breathe until she was certain that he had not wakened. She had thought he had forgotten Katie completely, but he must have been dreaming about her. A new suspicion forming in her mind, she knew she couldn’t settle until she found out what he had been doing in the attics, so, edging herself out of bed, she crept
across the room on tiptoe and closed the door behind her as quietly as she could.
They had had electricity installed some time previously, and although there was no switch in what had been Katie’s room, the light from the stairs showed enough to make her sick with horror. Lined against one wall were sticks of varying sizes, on the chair next to the bed was a leather whip, and on the bed itself there were two coils of rope. Bile swirled into her mouth as comprehension came to her. Angus was still planning to take vengeance on Katie, and he must be acting out his fantasies even though she wasn’t there.
Creeping downstairs, Betty stood outside the bedroom door wondering if she should chance going back to bed, or if she should get away from Angus Gunn altogether. He had told her when he was convalescing from the heart attack that he had been invalided out of the army during the war with a head wound, so maybe it had affected his brain. Or had he been born unstable, like his son? This line of thought presented her with another solution to her problem. She could have him certified and put away – the instruments of torture would be evidence enough.
But Angus was too clever to be trapped. He could probably fool even the most experienced psychiatrist into believing that he was involved in conducting some experiment … say, testing the durability of a mattress, or something like that. He would be proved sane, and maybe he was sane, except where Katie was concerned. He was doing no harm to anyone, Betty concluded, and lots of men had secret fantasies, so it might be best to let him get his out of his system. It wouldn’t affect her as long as he did it while she was at work.
Thank goodness for the shop, she thought, as she went back to bed shivering with cold. It took her out of the house for hours on end, although she did feel guilty at how her pulses speeded up every time Henry Ferguson squeezed past her to show something to a customer. Worse still, when she and her husband were sitting by the fire in the evenings, she sometimes let herself imagine Henry taking her in his arms. She was every bit as bad as Angus, really, though his mind was filled with a need for revenge and hers merely with imagining a romance that could never be, like a young girl.
The Three Kings Page 31
