Brow of the Gallowgate

by Doris Davidson

  And she still loved him – his red hair and thick bright moustache, waxed at the ends now, his hands strong but gentle on her body. She ran her own hands lightly over her belly. He gave her so much pleasure, it was little enough that she gave him as many children as he wanted.

  When Mary woke her up with a cup of cocoa, Bathie opened her eyes with a start. She hadn’t realized she’d been asleep, but felt quite refreshed from it. ‘Is Charlie sleeping?’

  ‘He’s got an awfu’ cough, an’ I rubbed him wi’ wintergreen, but it hasna done much good.’ Mary looked rather concerned.

  ‘Give him a spoonful of honey in hot water. That should help to stop the tickle.’

  It seemed only five minutes later, although the clock showed almost half an hour, when Mary burst in, her face anxious. ‘He’s worse, Mrs Ogilvie. He’s drawing back when he’s coughin’ noo, an’ I think it’s the croup or the kink host.’

  The kink host – whooping cough – was just as serious as croup, so Bathie threw back the bedclothes in alarm and swung her feet on to the floor. Her legs wobbled a bit when she stood up, and she could feel the blood surging out between them, but she steadied herself against the bed for a minute.

  By the time she struggled up to the middle floor, Charlie was fighting for breath. ‘Tell Mr Ogilvie,’ she instructed the terrified fourteen-year-old, ‘then run for a doctor. The nearest doctor, it doesn’t need to be Dr McKenzie, if there’s one nearer than him.’

  Mary’s feet could scarcely have touched the stairs, and neither could Albert’s, for he was with his wife in seconds.

  ‘What’s wrong with Charlie?’ he puffed as he came through the door. ‘That girl was jabbering . . .’ He drew breath sharply when he caught sight of the boy. ‘My God, he’s near blue in the face. Can you not do something for him, Bathie?’

  She shook her head and leaned against him weakly. ‘Oh, Albert, he’s going to die.’ She burst into hysterical sobs. ‘My little Charlie’s going to die.’

  ‘My son’s not going to die, I won’t have it.’ Albert bent over to pick Charlie up, but halted midway.

  Bathie’s head jerked up. ‘What is it?’

  ‘I remember my mother’s neighbour’s baby having croup, years ago, and the doctor told them they should have wrapped his throat with something hot.’ Albert turned to his ashen-faced wife. ‘Bathie, go down and fill a basin with boiling water, and get . . .’ His eyes darkened. ‘God Almighty! You shouldn’t be out of your bed. Sit there and I’ll go and get the stuff myself.’

  Before he reached the door, however, they could hear determined feet ascending the stairs, then a breathless Mrs Wyness came in, Mary having gone to her mother to find out who was the nearest doctor.

  ‘I’ve put Jeannie to get Dr McKenzie,’ the woman told them. ‘You’re better wi’ the doctor you ken, an’ I’ll manage mysel’ till he comes. I took Mary back wi’ me, an’ I’ve got her fillin’ a basin wi’ boilin’ water for a fomentation.’

  She pulled a strip of flannelette out of her apron pocket. ‘It’s a bit o’ an auld sheet,’ she explained, ‘but it’s clean.’

  ‘Thank God you’re here.’ Albert stood back from the crib. ‘He seems a wee bit easier now, but . . .’

  ‘Aye, it comes in spasms.’ The woman was rolling up her sleeves when her eldest daughter carried in a steaming basin.

  ‘Where d’you want this, Ma?’

  ‘Just lay’t doon there aside me on the floor, Mary, an’ go back an’ put the kettle on the fire again. We’ll persevere wi’ this till the doctor comes.’

  Poor little Charlie started to cough again and Bathie stood up from the low, nursing chair where she’d collapsed.

  ‘You should be in your bed.’ Mrs Wyness’s voice was gentle, but firm. ‘It’s just hours since you gave birth, an’ you’ll start haemorrhagin’ if you dinna watch. Tak’ her doon, Mr Ogilvie, I’ll manage fine here. I’ve done this afore.’

  Holding her arm, Albert led his protesting wife away, exclaiming, when he saw the telltale stain spreading over her nightdress, ‘Oh, Bathie, my love, you must rest. I can’t lose you, for that would be the finish of me.’

  ‘I’ll need some big towels,’ she whispered, through teeth chattering with fear for her child. ‘And a clean gown.’

  He left her at the side of their bed and hurried off to fetch them, his heart aching with worry for her as much as for his son.

  ‘Go to Charlie, he needs you,’ she said when he came back.

  Torn between his duty as a husband and his duty as a father, he stood uncertainly until she gestured impatiently to him to leave her. ‘Go on, Albert. I’m not moving till you go.’

  About ten minutes later, Jeannie burst into the house with the doctor, who had brought her back in his small pony trap.

  ‘Up here!’ commanded Albert from the middle landing.

  Mrs Wyness stood aside while the doctor examined his small patient, then realized that her daughter was hovering in the doorway.

  ‘Jeannie, you go doon an’ see to Mrs Ogilvie. Me an’ the doctor’ll manage fine, withoot you standin’ there gapin’.’

  The stooping man smiled briefly. ‘We’ll give him a mustard bath first, then something to inhale. It’s a blessing that this good lady’s been here,’ he added to Albert.

  Mrs Wyness lifted her head again. ‘Tell Mary to mak’ up a mustard bath, an’ to be quick about it,’ she shouted after her daughter.

  By the time Jeannie presented herself to help, Bathie had stripped off the blood-sodden nightdress and was holding on to the bedpost in her weakness.

  ‘Oh, Mrs Ogilvie, what are you doin’ up?’ The girl rushed to cover her mistress’s nakedness, and took in the situation when she saw the soiled nightgown lying on the floor. ‘See what you’ve done, you’ve started haemorrhagin’,’ she accused. ‘You’d nae business gettin’ oot o’ your bed.’

  In a few minutes, Bathie was tucked up with the towels packed round her where they were needed. ‘Thank you, Jeannie. I went up to Charlie, but your mother sent me away the very minute she arrived.’

  ‘An’ so she should’ve.’ Jeannie turned to look in the cradle, where young Donald was waving his fists in the air and opening and closing his mouth. ‘This wee lamb’s needin’ to be fed, an’ what your milk’s goin’ to be like wi’ this excitement, I’m feared to think.’

  Picking up the infant, she handed him to his mother, who obediently unfastened her buttons. I’ll go ben an’ see if Mary’s needin’ ony help, but I’ll be right back.’

  When she went out, Bathie closed her eyes, feeling the pulling suction of the child’s mouth, and wondering what was going on upstairs.

  ‘Mary says the doctor’s steamin’ Charlie now,’ Jeannie informed her gravely when she returned. ‘And he’s goin’ to gi’e him some ipecac to mak’ him bring up the stuff that’s blockin’ his tubes.’

  Her son was in capable hands, but Bathie couldn’t banish the iciness that had come upon her, and she shivered violently.

  Jeannie recognized the sign of delayed shock, and came over to the bed. ‘I’ll change the bairn’s hippens to let you get peace for a minute, Mrs Ogilvie, but he’ll need the other side afore he’ll sleep.’

  Bathie wished desperately that she could see Charlie, but realized that she could not climb the stairs again. Every movement she made started a renewed draining of her womb, and there was nothing she could do except pray.

  Dear God, please don’t take my Charlie. I’ll go to church every week for the rest of my life, if you’ll spare him. Are you punishing me because I enjoy Albert so much? No, you’re a kinder God than that, so I’ll have as many children as Albert wants, and I’ll bring all of them up to be good. Christians. Please God, let me keep Charlie. Amen.

  She felt calmer after that, until another thought occurred to her – maybe God would change His mind and take her instead of Charlie? She mulled over this for a moment, then concluded sadly that she’d be sorry to leave her husband and her two sons, but she’d g
o if she had to.

  She jumped as heavy feet came careering down from above, wondering who it was, and dreading what he or she might have to tell her.

  ‘He’s going to be all right, Bathie!’ Albert shouted. ‘He’s vomited up all the muck and the doctor says he should sleep for hours, but I’ll stay with him all night, just in case.’

  He stopped, his breathless excitement changing to alarm. ‘You look like death, Bathie. Are you still . . . ?’

  ‘I’m fine, Albert, and much better now I know Charlie’s out of danger. I’m just tired and I was worried about him.’

  Kissing her cheek, he said gently, ‘You shouldn’t have gone up there, no matter how worried you were. I’ll get Mary to sit with you tonight, seeing I’ll be in the nursery with Charlie, so you’ll have nothing more to worry about.’

  Dr McKenzie poked his head round the door. ‘I’ll be off, then, Mr Ogilvie. I shouldn’t think there will be any complications, but just let me know if you need me again.’

  Albert spun round. ‘Doctor, I wonder if you’d take a look at my wife, seeing you’re here. She’s been bleeding badly.’

  The man approached the bed and felt Bathie’s pulse. ‘It’s a bit fast, but it’s not surprising with the worry you’ve had. Are you still haemorrhaging?’

  ‘No, it was only when I went up to see Charlie.’

  ‘You went upstairs? You’re a very silly woman. I quite understand your anxiety, but I hope you haven’t done yourself any permanent damage. Remember, absolute bedrest!’

  ‘I’ll make sure of that. Thank you, Doctor,’ Albert sighed with relief.

  Left alone with his wife, Albert kissed her ice-cold brow. ‘I hope I never have to put in another evening like this, Bathie. You’d better lie down and sleep now.’

  ‘I’m in the middle of feeding Donald. You’d better tell Jeannie to bring him back.’

  ‘Indeed and I’ll not. She can give him some cow’s milk. It’ll not do him any harm for once.’

  Bathie fell asleep almost immediately, and heard nothing of the continued commotion. Mrs Wyness had made Jeannie light the boiler, and it was after four in the morning before mother and daughter hung all the sheets and gowns over the ropes in the wash-house and went home, absolutely worn out.

  Chapter Ten

  ‘Mother, Mary’s crying and I don’t know why. None of us have been doing anything bad, not even Ellie.’

  ‘All right, Charlie.’ Bathie laid down her knitting with a resigned sigh. ‘Tell her to come and see me.’ She was glad that Jeannie had gone out with the two dogs to buy some butcher’s meat, and wouldn’t be there to inhibit her sister. She’d no idea what was wrong with Mary, but it shouldn’t be anything too difficult to sort out.

  When the weeping girl appeared, Bathie said, ‘Sit down, Mary, and tell me why you’re crying.’

  ‘I . . . I’m s . . . sorry, I didna want to bother you, Mrs Ogilvie.’ The girl lifted a corner of her long white apron to wipe her eyes. ‘There’s nothin’ you can do.’

  ‘Nothing I can do? Let me be the judge of that. Tell me what’s wrong. It can’t be that bad.’

  ‘It is, it’s awfu’ bad, an’ I canna tell you.’

  Irritation made Bathie snap. ‘I’m not waiting all day.’

  ‘Promise you’ll nae tell Ma?’

  ‘I won’t promise anything. Tell me this minute.’

  ‘I . . . I’m . . . in the family way.’ It came out in a rush at last, and Mary’s eyes, streaming though they were, opened wide with the fear of what her employer would say.

  ‘Oh.’ Bathie was taken completely aback. She hadn’t had the least inkling of this, although she knew that Mary had a young man who took her out on her evenings off. ‘And Willie doesn’t want to marry you, is that it?’

  ‘It’s n . . . nae W . . . Willie’s.’ Mary’s sobs turned to howls.

  ‘Stop that noise. You’d better tell me before Jeannie comes back. I take it she doesn’t know?’

  Mary gulped. ‘No, she doesna. It was like this. Me an’ Willie had an awfu’ row, about nothin’, really, you ken how it is. Ony road, I ran away from him, an’ I was comin’ back here when I met this lad I used to go to the school wi’. He could see I was upset an’ he said he’d walk hame wi’ me for it was pitch dark, an’ I was that pleased to ha’e company, an’ I was that mad at Willie, I let Davie kiss me.’

  She paused, then whispered, ‘When we came in through the close, he started . . . touchin’ me, an’ I liked it, for Willie’s never did it, so when he asked if there was a place we could be out o’ sight, I took him in the wash-house.’

  ‘I see.’ Bathie decided to let this indiscretion pass. ‘Then he forced himself on you, was that it?’

  ‘He didna ha’e to do much forcin’.’ Mary looked ashamed. ‘It was my very first time an’ I liked it.’ She blinked. ‘Is that terrible for me to be sayin’?’

  Bathie smiled. ‘Some women might think so, Mary, but I’ll let you into a secret – I like it, too.’

  ‘Do you?’ Mary looked astonished, but slightly happier. ‘My Ma aye says she’d to shut her eyes an’ think about somethin’ else every time my Da wanted it, an’ I thought you’d be the same, bein’ a lady.’

  Hiding her amusement, Bathie said, ‘All women aren’t made the same. We’re not supposed to enjoy it, but I don’t see why we shouldn’t. Have you told this Davie . . . ?’

  ‘He doesna believe he’s the first man that ever touched me, an’ he says it must be Willie’s, but, Mrs Ogilvie, Willie’s a good laddie, an’ he’s never laid a finger on me.’

  ‘How far on are you?’

  ‘Five month, so it’s nae use tryin’ to get rid o’ it. I bought a little bottle o’ gin, awa’ at the beginning, and tried drinkin’ that, but nothin’ happened, an’ I tried takin’ castor oil, an’ that didna work either. I’m ower far gone now, it would be like murder, wouldn’t it, for the bairn’ll be formed an’ everything? Oh, what’s goin’ to happen to me?’

  Gritting her teeth, Bathie considered. ‘Do you love Davie, or do you still love Willie?’

  ‘I still love Willie, an’ I’ve made up wi’ him again, but I canna tell him.’

  ‘I think you should, and if he wants to stop seeing you, you’ll just have to accept it. But if he loves you enough . . . who knows? He might forgive you.’

  ‘What about Ma?’

  ‘I maybe shouldn’t say this, but I think you should tell Willie before you tell your mother. I’m sure she’ll look after you if he won’t, but give him the chance first. You’re not the only girl who’s ever made a mistake, and you won’t be the last. Now, go and wash your face and get back to my children. You can tell Willie tonight – I’ll let you have the evening off – and everything’s going to sort itself out, so stop worrying.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Ogilvie. I was that upset, I couldna think straight.’

  After supper, Bathie told Albert about the plight in which their nursemaid had landed herself.

  ‘I’d never have thought Mary had it in her, the little devil.’ He laughed for a moment, then added, ‘We can keep her on, if she wants. It wouldn’t bother me if she had her own bairn in the house.’

  ‘Oh, Albert, that’s good of you. I was frightened to suggest it, in case you wouldn’t agree.’

  ‘Frightened? Of me?’ He looked somewhat hurt.

  ‘No, no. Frightened for what it would do to Mary if I built up her hopes, then had to let her down. I’ve given her the evening off to go and tell her Willie, so I’ll have to put the children to bed myself.’

  ‘Get Jeannie to stay on, she wouldn’t mind, I’m sure.’

  ‘I want to do it myself, Albert. I don’t often get the chance to be with them at bedtime.’

  Her face sobered suddenly, her blue eyes clouding. ‘Were you terribly disappointed that Ellie wasn’t a boy?’

  ‘For a minute, that’s all. I love my daughter, she looks such an angel, with her red curly hair and big blue eyes, but I don’t think Charlie and
Donnie ever got in as much trouble as she’s done, and she’s not two yet.’

  ‘Maybe this one’ll be another boy,’ Bathie murmured. ‘It’s funny to think that I’m five months gone, the same as Mary.’

  ‘Aye, that’s a coincidence, and I’m just as pleased about this one as I was about the first three, Bathie, but are you sure everything’s all right?’

  ‘Yes, quite sure. Dr McKenzie has examined me.’

  After settling her three children for the night, Bathie sat down with her knitting in front of the fireguard in the nursery. She knew that her miscarriage, earlier in the year, had been the cause of Albert’s concern. It was also why she had consulted the doctor so early in this latest pregnancy, but it was well past the dangerous third month now, and she hoped, for Albert’s sake, that it would be another boy.

  One of Ellie’s kind was enough. She’d arrived a month too soon, and had been difficult ever since birth. She often threw tantrums, and led poor Mary a merry dance at times. When Dr McKenzie had held Ellie up after she was born, he’d remarked, ‘She’s got a determined chin, this one. She’s going to want to be boss.’

  She certainly had, for all her tender age, and Charlie and Donnie usually ended up by giving in to her. Yes, her mother decided, Eleanor Ogilvie was going to go through life knowing what she wanted, and making sure she got it.

  It was just after ten o’clock when Mary came in, her face glowing. ‘Willie’s goin’ to gi’e the bairn his name,’ she burst out. ‘He says he’d never asked me to wed him afore, for he wanted to save up a bit first.’

  ‘He’s a sensible lad, anyway,’ smiled Bathie.

  ‘Would you like to meet him, Mrs Ogilvie? I tell’t him to wait ootside in the close.’

  ‘Bring him in.’ Bathie did want to meet the young man who was willing to take on another man’s child, and who had never laid a finger on Mary in the two years they’d been courting, so she rolled up her knitting and went downstairs.

  Willie Dunbar was very shy, but his eyes were earnest as he said, ‘I’ll never do anything to harm Mary, Mrs Ogilvie, and I’ll look on the child as my own.’