Brow of the Gallowgate

by Doris Davidson

  Running her finger round his ear, she whispered, ‘You’ve got very nice ears, for a man, did you know that, Albert?’

  Desire for her flooded up in him again, but he couldn’t ask her to go back to bed, so he said, ‘We’ve still all the dishes to wash, we’d better get started.’

  By the time they had cleared up and put everything away, the fire was low and had to be stoked, then Albert dozed off in spite of himself, having had little sleep for two nights.

  When he woke up, he apologized for his bad manners, but Bathie laughed. ‘I fell asleep, too.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking,’ Albert said later, while they were eating cheese and oatcakes. ‘We don’t want your folk to know about our problem with the cooking, but I’m sure my mother would be glad to show you what to do.’

  ‘I’ll go to see her tomorrow, then, when you’re in the shop, but I hope she won’t think it terrible of me being so ignorant. I feel bad enough about it already.’

  ‘You won’t take long to learn, I’m sure.’

  ‘I hope not. I want to prove to them I’m not useless.’

  He poured her another cup of tea. ‘Nobody could say you’re useless, my love. My life would be empty without you.’

  Chapter Six

  Their first guests, a few weeks later, were Wattie and Nell Ogilvie, because Bathie wanted to have Albert’s mother’s seal of approval on her cooking before she dared to ask her own parents to eat in the little tenement house.

  After the meal was over, Wattie leaned back and patted his ever-enlarging stomach. ‘That was just grand, Bathie, lass. You’ll be as good a cook as Albert’s mother afore we ken where we are.’

  The girl stole a glance at her mother-in-law, who gave her a little secret smile. Bathie was very grateful to Nell for the cookery lessons, although she’d been mystified, at first, by instructions like, ‘Add a wee puckle salt’, or, ‘Rub in a good daud o’ butter’, or, ‘Shak’ in a han’fu’ o’ floor’. Such were Albert’s mother’s recipes.

  ‘You’ll get to ken by the look o’ things,’ Nell had told her, one day. ‘You’ll get the hang o’t in nae time.’

  She had got the hang of it in no time, Bathie reflected, now, and set herself out to entertain her guests.

  When they were leaving, she was very surprised when Wattie laid his rough hand on her shoulder. ‘I must tell you this, lass, though it goes against the grain to admit I was wrong. You’ve proved me a liar, an’ I’m real pleased aboot it.’

  Seeing her surprise, he explained. ‘I tell’t Albert that a banker’s lassie would never learn how to be a workin’ man’s wife, but, by God, you have.’

  Bathie’s cheeks were red with pleasure. ‘Thank you, Mr Ogilvie.’

  ‘An’ we’ll ha’e nane o’ this Mr Ogilvie business.’ Wattie’s dark eyes twinkled. ‘If you canna bring yoursel’ to say Father, you could aye say Wattie.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Bathie repeated, sure that she could never bring herself to call her father-in-law that. From the time she’d learned to talk, she’d been taught never to address her elders by their Christian names.

  Nell also had something to say. ‘I’m real pleased Albert ken’t what he wanted. He waited a lang time afore he took a wife, but he couldna ha’e picked a finer. An’ never mind what Wattie says. I ken you could never ca’ him by his first name, for you’ve been brought up better than that, but the problem winna exist in a wee while.’ She smiled as she went out.

  Bathie turned to Albert. ‘What did your mother mean?’

  He lifted his shoulders in an expressive shrug. ‘I didn’t understand her, either, so we’d better wait and see.’

  When the Johnstones came, the following Sunday, Arthur was dismayed by the size of the tiny rooms, but his mind was set at rest by Albert’s prowess as a host, especially while the two women remained talking in the bedroom.

  The young man asked some pertinent questions about the bank and about banking in general, and seemed to be content to listen as Arthur expounded on the new system he’d introduced and how it worked.

  When the women came through, Bathie sliced the silverside and cut up the Yorkshire Pudding as if she had done it for years. The roast potatoes were exactly how her father liked them – crispy on the outside and mealy in the centre – and he asked for a second helping. Albert was glad that his wife’s efforts were being appreciated, and helped her to clear away the dirty plates, ready for the next course, smiling at her as she removed the pie dish from the oven.

  The rice pudding was creamy, and the grated nutmeg Nell had told her to sprinkle on top made it deliriously different.

  Arthur wiped his mouth and remarked, ‘If anyone had told me, even on your wedding day, that you could cook like this, Bathia, I would have told him he was mad.’

  ‘You have picked it up very quickly.’ Henrietta smiled indulgently. ‘Cooking is something I have never attempted.’

  Bathie caught Albert’s eye and laughed. ‘Albert’s mother gave me some lessons, so you’ve really her to thank.’

  Arthur rose to occupy one of the armchairs by the fire – originally Joseph Duthie’s. The springs almost pierced his trousers, but he remained sitting, genial and uncomplaining, until his wife said that it was time they went home.

  He waited until Bathie brought in their coats, then stood up. ‘As Albert knows, I do not hesitate to admit it if I have been wrong, and I can say, now, that I have been pleasantly surprised at how well he has provided for you. I can honestly state that I am happy, and proud, to have him as a son-in-law.’

  Bathie went over to kiss him, and Albert mumbled, ‘Thank you, Mr Johnstone. I never thought I’d hear you saying that.’

  On the way home, Arthur was rather thoughtful. ‘Albert Ogilvie is rather a fine young man, you know, and I am quite sure, now, that he really does love Bathia.’

  His wife smiled. ‘Of course he does, I never doubted it, and she will have no cause to regret marrying him.’

  She was pleased that their own marriage had improved, and that he had stopped ogling young Hannah, the current maid. Telling him exactly how she felt about him had made him turn over a new leaf, and she did not object to his amorous overtures to her now, either. She had been so young when Bathia was born that his lust had repelled her, but she should have known where it would lead. A man must have an outlet for his needs, and if his own wife was not willing, what else could he have done except turn to those girls who were?

  With their house to themselves again, Bathie and Albert were tidying up before going to bed.

  ‘I think everything was satisfactory, don’t you?’ she said, blissfully. ‘They seemed to enjoy my cooking.’

  They were really surprised you were managing so well.’

  ‘I had to prove it to them.’ Bathie sat down. ‘Albert,’ she murmured, after a minute, ‘I’m going to have – a child.’

  He almost dropped the teapot he was filling for one last cup before they went to bed. ‘What?’

  ‘I wasn’t sure at first, but I’ve never . . . missed before.’ Her cheeks flamed as she turned her face away from him.

  It had crossed his mind to wonder why she hadn’t been bothered with ‘the curse’, as he’d heard other men calling it, but he’d never once thought that this was the reason.

  ‘Are you not pleased about it, Albert?’ His wife was looking at him anxiously now.

  Laying the brown china teapot down so quickly that some of the newly-made tea spilled on to the hob, he took her in his arms and almost squeezed the breath out of her. ‘There’s not a happier man in the whole of Aberdeen.’ His reassurance was all she needed, and she kissed him with such ardour that he led her into the bedroom without remembering about the tea he’d just made.

  Long after Bathie was asleep, however, he lay worrying. He should be happy. He was happy. But their house was hardly big enough for the two of them, never mind an infant as well. He should have been more careful, though he loved her so much everything else went out of his head when he was
inside her.

  He’d have to provide her with better accommodation, even though it would mean more work for her, and he’d never be able to afford a maid. For that matter, he couldn’t see himself ever being in a position to afford a bigger house, either.

  The moon was full, shining like daylight through the thin curtains, and Bathie’s lovely darkhair – she’d taken to pinning it up after the wedding, but let it down at nights – was spread over the pillow, making her look like a schoolgirl. Poor Bathie. What could he do to make up to her?

  When at last he fell asleep, his old dream returned, but with an added impossibility. His shop would need to have a large house attached, to accommodate his family, for he meant to have more than one, and with enough room for a live-in maid. He couldn’t expect his wife to look after his children and keep a big house as well.

  All the next day, he turned the problem over in his mind when he had a chance, and came to his decision just before closing time. There was only one thing for him to do, and he’d do it without telling his wife. He wouldn’t need to rush at it just yet – everything must be well planned out – and, much as the first step went against the grain, it would have to be taken before he could go any further.

  It was a week later before he had the opportunity to put his plan into action. Seeing his employer going past the window, he ran out. ‘I’ve a favour to ask you, Mr Duthie.’

  The old man looked rather surprised – Albert had never asked him for anything before – but he nodded kindly. ‘Aye, if it’s in my power, lad.’

  ‘Could you take over the shop for a half day, some time? There’s something I want to do, and I don’t want Bathie to know anything about it.’

  A frown corrugated Joseph Duthie’s already furrowed brow. ‘You’re not keeping secrets from her, are you?’

  ‘It’s something I want to get for her, Mr Duthie, and I want to have it all cut and dried before I tell her.’

  ‘Ah, that’s different. When were you wanting off?’

  ‘Whenever suits you. There’s no desperate hurry, and it’ll maybe just take an hour or so.’

  ‘Well, let me see, now.’ The old man scratched the side of his face with his gnarled forefinger. ‘I’m going to London the day after tomorrow to see my son, and I’ve still my case to pack and a few things to attend to. It’s not worth going all that distance unless I stop for a month, so I’ll not be back till the first day of December. Is the second too late?’

  ‘The second of December will do fine, thank you.’ Albert would have preferred it to be sooner than that, in case he lost his nerve, but it couldn’t be helped.

  He began looking at shops again when Bathie and he took the dogs out, going a different route each time, but she was completely unaware of what was in his mind.

  She was still very happy being a housewife, cleaning and cooking for her husband, and ever since her mother-in-law had shown her how to knit socks, as well as sew, she’d occupied what spare time she had by keeping Albert supplied with them. Lately, however, she’d started making some tiny garments, which was far more exciting.

  When she told her mother about the expected child, Henrietta’s thin face had grown even longer. ‘Already, Bathia? It wasn’t . . . conceived . . . before the wedding, was it?’

  Nothing could detract from Bathie’s joy, and she gave a little laugh. ‘It might have been conceived on the wedding night, Mother, but it certainly wasn’t before. Albert’s an honourable man, and he never did anything out of place.’

  She noticed, with great amusement, that neither her father nor her mother ever mentioned it when they were visiting after that, nor when she and Albert visited them.

  Albert’s parents, on the other hand, had been delighted at the news, although they didn’t seem to be very surprised.

  ‘I just ken’t it.’ Nell sounded happily triumphant. ‘Didn’t I tell you, Wattie, there was a bairn on the road?’

  ‘She can tell when a lassie’s expectin’ afore the lassie kens hersel’.’ Wattie winked fondly at his wife.

  ‘D’you mind, Bathie, I tell’t you, the night he said to ca’ him Wattie, that the problem wouldna exist in a wee while?’ Nell laughed. ‘I ken’t what was in the wind, you see.’

  Rather bewildered, Bathie was also dismayed that her condition had been noticed so early, but what did it matter? It would soon be obvious to all and sundry.

  Every time she saw her in-laws now, they asked her how she was keeping, although she was actually blooming with health and happiness. This, of course, was a great relief to Albert, who had heard stories of women suffering terrible bouts of morning sickness when they were carrying.

  When Joseph Duthie came to relieve him on the second of December, Albert strode purposefully to Ferry hill.

  Henrietta was taken very much aback when her maid showed him in. ‘There’s nothing wrong with Bathia, I hope?’

  ‘No, no, she couldn’t be better. I’ve something to ask you, Mrs Johnstone.’ He always addressed Bathie’s parents formally, and they had never told him to do otherwise.

  Now that he was actually there, he didn’t know how to begin. To his mind, what he was about to say could be interpreted as an admission of failure, a complete reversal of what he had vowed to Bathie’s father before his marriage, and he was more than half afraid that Mrs Johnstone would despise him for it – her husband certainly would – but he had to carry on, for Bathie’s sake.

  He cleared his throat nervously and Henrietta took pity on him. ‘It must be very important since you have taken time off your work to come here. Would you like a cup of tea?’

  ‘It is important to me, but I’d rather not bother with tea, if you don’t mind, for I want to get it over as soon as I can. I’m finding it very difficult, Mrs Johnstone, so I must ask you to bear with me and let me finish before you say anything.’

  Her smile faded slightly, and he began slowly. ‘As you know, Bathie’s expecting, and our house just isn’t big enough for three.’ He held up his hand as she opened her mouth. ‘I know I told you before that I wanted none of your money, but I’m . . . climbing down and asking if . . .’

  She interrupted before he could stop her. ‘You are asking if I will give you the money my mother left me, after all.’

  Dropping his eyes, he twirled his flat cap in his hands. ‘Yes.’ he admitted. ‘That is what I was going to ask.’ The tips of his ears were red with shame, but her laugh made him look up in surprise.

  ‘You are about three weeks too late, Albert.’

  This made his whole face colour, and his mouth went dry with bitter disappointment, for she had been his only hope.

  ‘After Bathia told me of her condition, I asked Arthur to open a bank account in your name, Albert, and I have already transferred that money into it. I was certain that, however independent you were, you would want to buy a decent house for your wife and child. So it is there for you to use whenever you want it.’ She sat back and regarded his astonished face with faint amusement.

  It was an anticlimax to all the long hours of painful deliberation, and he felt rather cheated. It shouldn’t have come this easy. ‘But it’s Bathie you should have opened that account for, not me,’ he said, after a long silence.

  Henrietta’s voice was still gently kind. ‘As you are aware, Bathia’s own money will come to her when she is twenty-one, and she need never know about this. The arrangement is strictly between us, Albert.’

  ‘She’ll have to know, for I couldn’t keep a thing like that a secret from her.’

  ‘I fail to see why not.’

  ‘She’ll know I couldn’t buy a house on what I make, though I have saved a wee bit since Mr Duthie gave me my wages up.’ He fell silent again, stroking his chin as he considered, then his troubled face cleared. ‘I’ll accept your generosity on one condition, Mrs Johnstone.’

  ‘And what is your one condition?’

  ‘That you let me pay it back, though it takes me years.’

  The woman removed her pince-nez
and rubbed the bridge of her nose. ‘And if I don’t agree to that condition?’

  ‘Then I’ll have to try somewhere else.’

  ‘Oh, Albert Ogilvie, I’m very glad that Bathia found you.’

  His face lit up. ‘Then you agree to my condition?’

  ‘I meant to buy a house, but I knew you would not accept it, and this was the only way I could think of to help you.’

  ‘Thank you for your kind intentions, but I still consider it as a loan.’

  Henrietta raised her eyebrows. ‘I thought you would want to know how much money is available to you.’

  ‘As long as there’s enough to buy a decent-sized house, I don’t see the need for . . .’

  ‘There’s three thousand pounds, Albert.’ His reaction was not quite what she’d hoped for.

  ‘Three thou . . . ?’ he faltered, consternation clouding his eyes. ‘I can’t take all that, I’d never be able to repay it.’

  She felt a little irritated. ‘Take as much as you need, then, and remember, in less than five years, Bathie will have control of the two thousand pounds presently in trust for her.’

  Albert’s head was spinning in a struggle between his natural proud thrift and his determination to give his wife the best house possible. Also, at the back of his mind, a little voice was telling him that he could buy a house and a shop if he had three thousand pounds at his disposal. The profits he’d make from his own business would enable him to repay the loan all the quicker.

  Studying him, Henrietta could almost read his thoughts. ‘Money begets money, you know,’ she said, softly.

  He clasped his hands together to steady them. ‘I don’t know what to say. I’ve dreamed about having my own shop ever since I started working for Joseph Duthie, but I never . . .’

  ‘There you are, then.’ Henrietta stood up as a signal that the discussion was terminated. ‘You can buy your shop, as well as a house, with the . . . loan.’

  So overcome with gratitude that he forgot to thank her properly, he walked back to Torry in a daze. Dreaming was one thing, but having that dream within his reach was strangely disquieting.