A full sixty seconds passed before he said, very quietly, ‘It’s been a great shock to me, Mother, but I love Vena, no matter what she did before I met her, and I’m absolutely sure that she loves me.’
Her heart plummeted. She certainly hadn’t expected this. She’d thought that Charlie would have been glad to see the back of this cheap whore. ‘Shouldn’t you at least think about it?’
His face was agonized, but his reply was firm. ‘I don’t need to think about it. I can’t live without her.’
It was final, and Bathie bowed her head, while her son looked down on her helplessly. After a moment, he turned and went out, leaving her to weep out her frustration and anger. When she felt more composed, she stood up to return to the kitchen, but before she reached the door, Vena opened it and came in, eyeing her very apprehensively.
Knowing that she would have to accept this girl if she didn’t want to lose her son, Bathie said, ‘Did Charlie tell you why I wanted to speak to him?’
Vena nodded, then whispered, ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Ogilvie. I ken you’re disgusted at what I did, but I think the world o’ Charlie, an’ I’ll be a good wife to him, I promise. I was desperate nae to be left wi’ a fatherless bairn, that’s why I did what I did, an’ when Charlie said he’d stick by me, I could hardly believe it. As God’s my witness, I’ll never look at onybody else again, for he’s a fine man.’
A fine man. The words reverberated in Bathie’s head – he was still only a boy. ‘As long as you keep your word, Vena, I’ll never mention what you’ve done, and I’ll think as much of your child as I’d have done if it really was Charlie’s.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Ogilvie. It’s mair than I deserve.’
Seven weeks later, Charlie burst into his parents’ room just before three o’clock one morning. ‘It’s Vena,’ he said, urgently. ‘She says she’s started, and she’s very bad.’
They both jumped out of bed, and Albert dressed and ran for Dr McKenzie, while Bathie climbed up to the attics to see what she could do to help Vena.
The sight of the girl’s white, terrified face touched her deeply, and as she watched Charlie trying to comfort his wife, Bathie realized that there was no time to waste – Vena had already begun the strong pushing of imminent childbirth.
Thrusting her son aside with a curt, ‘Get as much boiling water ready as you can,’ she rolled up the sleeves of her thin kimono and prepared to do whatever was necessary. She couldn’t leave the girl, even to get a rubber sheet, but it couldn’t be helped, so she flung back the bedclothes.
‘Pull up your knees and open your legs,’ she ordered, and wasn’t surprised, when Vena obeyed, to see the crown of the infant’s head.
Soothing the girl and coaxing her to push regularly and rhythmically, Bathie delivered the tiny scrap of humanity on her own.
She was attempting to smack some sign of life into it when Gavin McKenzie rushed in, his dark hair tousled, so she laid it down beside Vena and stood aside to let him take over.
When Charlie carried in a steaming basin, she motioned to him to lay it down on the old chest of drawers, her eyes never leaving the bed, but her spirits were sinking at the serious expression on the doctor’s face.
Gavin looked up suddenly. ‘They’re both in a dangerous condition, Charlie,’ he said gravely. ‘If you want me to try to save the baby, I’ll do my best, but I’m very much afraid . . .’
It was Bathie who murmured, ‘I think it’s too late for that. Save his wife, please.’
Albert, who had come in behind the doctor, put one arm round her and the other round his son, who seemed to be quite unaware of what was happening.
‘It’s God’s will, Charlie,’ he said, gently, ‘and it’s maybe all for the best.’
Bathie began to weep softly.
Chapter Twenty-one
When Bathie’s labour pains began, five months later, it was Vena who attended to her until the doctor arrived, Vena who volunteered to look after new-born Ishbel, as well as the other children, until Bathie was on her feet again.
This seventh birth had been even more gruelling than Hetty’s, so Bathie was glad to let Vena run the household for several weeks, while she lay in bed thinking. She knew that she’d been very near death, and something kept bothering her, something that she couldn’t quite remember.
When it did come to her, one quiet afternoon, she was still puzzled. Someone had murmured to her, during the time she’d been half delirious and hadn’t known all that was going on, ‘Don’t slip away from me, dearest Bathie. I love you.’
It couldn’t have been Albert – he hadn’t been allowed in the room – yet the voice had been familiar. Had she imagined it, or had she sensed Albert’s thoughts from the other side of a closed door? She drifted into an uneasy sleep, hearing the same words over and over again, until she awoke with a start.
It had been Gavin McKenzie’s voice! But that was quite ridiculous. His wife had died from consumption nearly four years ago, but he would never say anything like that to her – another man’s wife.
And yet he called every day to see how she was, although she’d assured him almost two weeks ago that there was no need.
‘Why don’t you call me Gavin?’ he’d said then, very gently. ‘I’ve known you for at least sixteen years now, Bathie, and if Albert can, I’m sure you could, if you tried.’
She’d smiled, a little embarrassed. ‘I suppose I can . . . Gavin.’ It had felt strange, but she’d thought nothing of his request. Now that she came to consider it, though, his voice had been tender, and was it possible that his grey eyes had been trying to tell her something at that time? Heavens, she knew his eyes were grey, but she’d never paid any attention to them, not consciously. She was being very foolish, and it just showed how weak she was. She must stop this madness before she started imagining herself in love with him.
As it drew near five o’clock, the time Gavin usually came, she was ashamed of the excitement building up in her. It was Albert she loved – she could never love anybody else. But in spite of herself, she couldn’t stop her thoughts dwelling on Gavin McKenzie – his tightly-curled hair, grizzled now, his clean-shaven face, craggy and kind, his long, gentle fingers. Oh, what was she doing, thinking these things?
When he hadn’t appeared by seven minutes past five, she was rather relieved, and glad that she’d calmed down, but her heart started beating wildly when Vena popped her head round the door a few moments later.
‘Here’s Dr McKenzie to see you, Mother,’ she announced, and withdrew immediately.
Bathie felt her face flaming. ‘I’m not an invalid now and there’s no need for you to visit me, doctor.’
A little smile touched the edges of his mouth, making it even more attractive. ‘So it’s back to doctor, is it? Have you forgotten how to say Gavin?’
‘N . . . no,’ she stammered, realizing, as he lifted her hand, that he would feel how much her heart was racing, and wishing that Vena had remained in the room with them.
His fingers were cool on her wrist, but he looked up quite anxiously. ‘Your pulse is far too rapid. I think you’re worrying about something, Bathie, and it’s not good for you. I strongly advise you to tell me about it, whatever it is.’
She wanted to snatch her hand away, but was frightened of offending him. ‘It’s nothing,’ she whispered.
‘It’s not nothing. Your pulse is galloping and . . .’ He stopped suddenly, his eyes searching her face, making her look away hastily. ‘I believe you’ve remembered what I said when I thought you were slipping away. I’m sorry, for I never meant you to know how I feel about you.’
A few seconds passed, during which he looked down at the hand he was holding, and Bathie tried desperately to think of something to say to prevent him from voicing what he was so obviously considering.
Her hand still in his, he sat down on the bed. ‘Let me say this once, Bathie, and I’ll never mention it again. The first time I attended you I thought you were very attractive, but that was it. I love
d my wife as much as Albert loved you.’
Squirming a little, Bathie prayed that he wouldn’t go any further. It was indecent for a married woman to be sitting in bed waiting for another man’s declaration of love.
Clearing his throat nervously, Gavin carried on. ‘Even before Margaret died, I’d begun to love you, but it was a love which needed nothing in return.’
‘I think you’ve said enough, Gavin.’ She had to stop him. This wild pounding in her veins was definitely not good for her, however heart-warming it was to be told she was loved.
He seemed not to have heard. ‘It was a different kind of love from what I had for my wife, but it grew stronger as time went past. I missed Margaret very much after she died, and my one comfort was to think of you.’ His head dropped. ‘I’d no right, Bathie, and I’m sorry if I’ve embarrassed you. I thought we were going to lose you, and I was feeling angry with Albert for making you pregnant again.’
Bathie felt absolutely helpless. How could she tell him – this man who professed to love her – of the loathsome way in which Ishbel had been conceived? Albert had made love to her many times since the night he’d practically raped her, but she was certain that the seed had been planted then.
Her sigh was half a sob, and Gavin raised his head. ‘I’m sorry, my dear. I’ve been thoughtless and cruel. You’re in no fit state to deal with this. I know you love Albert, and that’s as it should be, but I hope we can still be friends.’
‘Yes, of course we can.’ The awkward moments were over, but she knew that their relationship could never be quite the same again.
‘I don’t know what we’d have done without Vena,’ Bathie told her husband one night after they went to bed.
Albert grunted an agreement. It was just as well her bairn died, and there’s nothing to remind us what she used to be. You made the right decision that night, my love.’
‘Somebody had to, and I think it’s what Charlie himself would have wanted, though he was too shocked to say anything. You know, Albert, I’m glad he married her, though I was very angry about it at the time.’
‘That mother of hers was a bad example, but she’ll soon learn how to behave properly.’
‘She’s doing very well, and I’m very fond of her now, but I must admit I’m thankful that Donnie hasn’t got involved with any girls. He doesn’t seem to take any interest in them.’
‘He will, Bathie, he will, but he’ll maybe be like his father and take a long time until he meets the right one. If he finds as good a wife as I did, he’ll be a very lucky man.’
Two days later, the house on the brow of the Gallowgate was shaken by the news of Wattie Ogilvie’s death. Always so healthy, he had suffered a fatal heart attack when helping Nell to shift furniture for her spring cleaning.
Albert and Batnie, both very upset, dropped everything and went to Market Street with the woman who had been sent to tell them. Nell was white-faced, but dry-eyed, as she took them into the kitchen.
‘I aye thought I’d go first, Albert,’ she murmured sadly, ‘an’ I used to worry if your father would manage on his own. He never did a blessed hand’s turn in the house, an’ it was only me complainin’ o’ a sair back that made him shift the wardrobe himsel’. It’s my fault he’s awa’.’
Laying his hand on her shoulder, Albert tried to comfort her. ‘It’s not your fault, Mother, and you should be glad Father went so quick and didn’t have to suffer.’
‘Aye, I suppose I should. Albert, will you see to things for me? I got Beenie Reid to send a wire to Walter an’ Jimmy afore she went for you, but they’re that far awa’, they’ll nae be here in time for that, if they come at a’.’
‘They’ll come, I’m sure, but I’ll make all the arrangements for you, Mother, so don’t worry about it. I’ll go right now, and Bathie’ll stop with you till I come back.’
When he went out, Nell turned to her daughter-in-law. ‘I’m happy Albert’s got you, lass. You’ve been a good wife to him, an’ I’ll nae be feared to leave him when my time comes.’
‘That won’t be for a long time yet, Grandma.’ Bathie felt rather inadequate. She’d loved Wattie and was heartbroken by his death, and she was finding it hard not to show her sorrow in front of his composed widow.
‘Wattie wasna an auld man,’ Nell observed, ‘but he worked hard at the fishin’, an’ they went to sea come hail, wind or shine. He ken’t nothing else, for his father went to the sea afore him, an’ his father’s father afore that. He was against him takin’ me for a wife, Wattie’s father. I was a country lassie workin’ as a servant in the toon when we first met each other, an’ he was a fine upstandin’ lad, wi’ his red hair an’ his dark eyes . . . oh, he had my he’rt as soon’s I looked at him. We walked oot for a good while afore he took me to meet his folk. They bade in auld Torry and they werena pleased. Fisher folk are close-knit, you see, an’ I wasna a fisher lassie.’
A sad smile played across her lips. ‘Auld Jeemsie – that was Wattie’s father, an’ a right devil he could be – said he’d put him oot if he didna stop seein’ me, an’ Wattie said he’d nae want to bide, ony road. They’d a real set-to, shoutin’ an’ sweirin’ an’ thumpin’ on the table, an’ I was feared they’d start thumpin’ each other, they were baith that angry, an’ their faces as red as turkey cocks.’
Bathie was surprised that Albert’s father had had to battle to marry the girl he loved, the same as Albert had done for her, but she said nothing because it seemed almost as if the old woman was talking to herself.
Nell twisted her broad golden wedding band. ‘It a’ come right in the hinner-end, though, for auld Jeemsie started laughin’, an’ said Wattie was just as thrawn as himsel’. Wattie an’ me had near fifty year thegither – fifty happy year, though we had our ups an’ doons, an’ I’d to learn how to be a fisher’s wife.’ She straightened up, her voice becoming stronger. ‘Oh, I’m sorry, Bathie. I’d near forgot you were there.’
‘It’s all right, Grandma. I was very interested. It must have been a hard life for you as well as for Grandpa.’
‘Aye, well, it was, I suppose, but I’d a good man an’ three sons, an’ I never regretted weddin’ him. He wasna ane for the women, so I never had that to worry aboot, but I aye ken’t the sea was his first love, an’ I didna mind, though I was pleased when he gi’ed it up.’ She got to her feet abruptly. ‘We’d best ha’e a cuppie tea, afore I start feelin’ sorry for mysel’.’
She was clearing up again when Albert returned.
‘That’s everything arranged, Mother,’ he said, briskly. ‘The undertaker’ll be here as soon as he can, and the funeral’s on Wednesday at two. I told them St Clement’s kirkyard, seeing that’s where his mother and father are buried, but if you want it somewhere else, I can change it.’
‘No, no, St Clement’s ’ll do fine.’ Nell looked up at her son pathetically. ‘What does it matter, ony road, when he’ll never ken where he’s laid?’
‘He’ll be nearer the sea,’ Albert reminded her, gently.
‘Aye, so he will. That would ha’e pleased him.’
‘Will I stay tonight?’ Bathie asked, thinking that she would hate to be alone with a corpse if it were her.
‘No, no, you’ve your bairns to see to, Bathie, my dear, but thank you for offerin’. Beenie Reid, next door, said she’d come in an’ bide wi’ me the night, an’ Walter an’ Jimmy should be here by the morn, so aff you go, the pair o’ ye.’
‘We’re not going until the undertakers have been,’ Albert said, sitting down.
‘She’s taking it very well,’ Bathie remarked, when they were walking up Market Street later. ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t want to go on living if anything happened to you.’
‘I’d be the same if anything happened to you, Bathie, but we’re different.’
‘We’re not different.’ She repeated what Nell had told her about Wattie and his father, and Albert looked thoughtful.
‘I never heard that before. You never think your mother and father had lov
ed each other, or . . . anything like that.’
Bathie had never thought about it with regard to her own parents, either, and she wondered if her mother would have been so calm if her husband had just died.
She wasn’t from the same mould as Nell Ogilvie, of course, and she’d never had to worry about what Arthur was doing if he wasn’t at home – he was never away from home, except to go to the bank.
When they arrived back at the Gallowgate, Albert rejoined Charlie and Donnie in the shop, but the strain of the last few hours was telling on Bathie, so she went into the parlour to have a short rest. Wattie’s death hit her with full force when she was on her own, and she gave way to the sorrow she had repressed in front of Nell, sobbing as if she would never stop.
Half an hour later, she climbed the stairs to the nursery, where Vena reported that everything was quiet.
Albert allowed himself no time to think – he even spent the evening stocking up shelves – so when he went to bed, his grief was all the deeper for having been held back for so long.
Bathie cradled him in her arms until his shuddering body stilled, then without a word, he mounted her, and fell asleep the minute he was satisfied.
He hadn’t touched her since Ishbel had been born, eight months before, and she didn’t blame him for not being careful. He’d been so upset about his father that there was an excuse for him, but she wondered ruefully – since his seed was potent and her body seemed to be receptive to it – if this was the planting of little J, boy or girl, whichever it might prove to be. She could only wait and see.
There was a large crowd at Wattie Ogilvie’s funeral. His seafaring friends turned out in full force, young and old, and dozens of neighbours from Market Street, who had known and liked the bluff, kindly man for years. Arthur Johnstone also came to pay his last respects to his daughter’s father-in-law, whom he had come to regard very highly.
It was difficult for Bathie to believe that Walter and Jimmy were Albert’s brothers, they were so different from him, both in looks and manners. They had Nell’s dark hair, but their sharp faces showed none of the kindness that hers always bore, and their eyes were hard and greedy. They seemed ill-at-ease with Albert’s wife, and she was hurt when they ignored her as much as they decently could.
Brow of the Gallowgate Page 21
