Gradually, the men returned home – those who were fit enough, those who would return – to the long unemployment queues and soup kitchens. The promise of a ‘land fit for heroes’ was to be left unfulfilled.
In March, 1919, Margaret wrote, ‘Donald is home for good, and he was lucky to find a job in a shipyard, so we will be looking for a house near there. Little James is growing every day. Of course, he is 15 months old now.’ As if his grandmother needed to be reminded of that. ‘He looks so beautiful in the little knitted suits you sent for his birthday and his Christmas, I wish you could see him.’
‘That’s that, then!’ Helen, feeling bitterly let down, did her best to accept it – or to pretend that she accepted it. ‘It’s Donald’s life, and he’d wanted to put his roots down where his wife and his bairn are.’
‘Oh, Helen, I’m sorry,’ Elspeth murmured. ‘I ken how much you were looking forward to seeing James every day.’
‘It’s maybe just as well they’ll not be here, for I’d likely spoil him. Grannies are aye blamed for that.’
Elspeth’s smile was rueful. No one would ever be able to accuse John’s two grannies of spoiling him. Her own mother would never acknowledge his existence now, and Mrs Forrest – his other granny – would never know that he existed at all.
Returning servicemen – ex-servicemen – thronged the cafe now, their high-spirited teasing making Elspeth feel just as exhilarated as they did ... until they left. At the back of her mind lay the hope that David would walk in one day, but she knew that it was very unlikely.
The numbers tailed off eventually, and by November – a whole year after the Armistice – the only servicemen she served were the sailors from ships in the harbour, and the regular soldiers from the Barracks. David had not come back from the war – or if he had, he had not come back to her.
At Quarry Street, Helen and Jimmy never mentioned him, but Elspeth could sense their pity and tried to keep cheerful in front of them. Only in the privacy of her own room did she give way to tears – tears of regret for a friendship which had never had the chance to blossom into romance.
She felt ashamed now at having rebuffed his love. It would have been easy to say that she returned his feelings, to make him feel loved and wanted, but through her own fears she had let him believe that she hadn’t cared for him at all. She had cared. Her present heartache was proof of that, and whether he was dead or had found someone else, she had lost him.
Chapter Seventeen
A week after the new year of 1920 had come in, Elspeth was jolted out of the cocoon she had spun for herself in her efforts to put David Fullerton out of her mind. Having just started her shift one afternoon, she went to serve a stout woman who was sitting in what had been his special place.
The customer looked up. ‘I’m just wanting ...’ Her mouth stayed open. ‘Mercy on us, it’s Elspeth Gray!’
‘Mrs Taylor!’ She was completely taken aback at coming face to face again with this woman from Auchlonie, who had been the one to tell her why John Forrest had not appeared for supper that November night over five years ago.
Mrs Taylor, however, was never thrown out of her stride. ‘We wondered what had become o’ you, for your folk never speak about you.’
Elspeth stood motionless, miserably wishing that the floor would open up and swallow her. ‘I got a better job.’
‘Aye, so Miss Fraser said, but we couldna understand why your mother never said anything about it.’
Her expression showed that she did not consider working as a waitress an improvement on being a dress-maker, and the girl could well imagine the speculations that had gone on, but none of the village women could have known about her association with John Forrest. Nettie Duffus and Kirsty Tough had, of course, but they would never have disclosed her secret, and, anyway, they didn’t know all of it.
‘Did you have a row wi’ your folk?’ Mrs Taylor persisted, her skin as thick as a rhinoceros.
‘Aye, and I walked out.’
Because this was not an uncommon occurrence, the woman accepted it without question. ‘You’re looking well enough, any road, the town air seems to be agreeing wi’ you. Will I tell Lizzie I’ve seen you?’
‘Oh, no! Don’t tell anybody,’ Elspeth pleaded, then caught sight of Miss Mackay looking at them over the top of her pince nez. ‘I’m sorry, Mrs Taylor, but I’m not sup-posed to stand and speak. The manageress is glowering.’
‘I see that. Well, I just want a cup o’ tea, to shove in time for the train.’
When she was leaving, Mrs Taylor looked across and put a finger to her lips, indicating that she would say nothing about the meeting. She was a gossip, Elspeth knew that, but she could be trusted not to break her promise and Lizzie would never hear about her daughter from her.
The incident unsettled the girl, however, and after fretting over it all night, she told her landlady, who was quite upset for her, she looked so unhappy. ‘Do you not think you should try writing to your mother again?’
‘She never answered my other letters.’
‘Aye, well, but she’d likely still been angry at you for leaving your auntie’s. She’ll have cooled down now.’
‘I’m not writing to her ever again.’ Elspeth had been deeply hurt by her mother’s silence, and had inherited her father’s obstinacy. ‘I’ll need to change my job, though, in case somebody else from Auchlonie comes in and sees me.’
‘You can please yourself about writing’, Helen said, slightly impatiently, ‘but you’re not to give up your job, that’s just cutting off your nose to spite your face.’
Elspeth couldn’t help smiling at this, but took her advice and did nothing about handing in her notice. She also pleased herself and did not write to her mother.
Nearing the end of her shift one afternoon at the beginning of June, a hand touching her elbow made Elspeth turn round, her eyes and mouth flying open the sight of the tall Gordon Highlander who was looking at her rather timidly.
‘David!’ She could hardly believe it. After all the long months of anxiety and despondency, it was too much for her to find that he was still alive, and she burst into tears.
‘Whisht, Elspeth, folk’ll be looking.’ He was embarrassed, but pleased, by her reaction, and squeezed her arm before he sat down at his old table. ‘I was hoping you’d be on the early shift, so I’ll have a cup o’ tea and wait for you.’
‘I thought ... something had happened to you when you never wrote,’ she whispered.
‘I ken, lass, but I’ll tell you about it later on.’
For the next ten minutes, she took and served orders in a pleasant haze, looking across at David every now and then as if to make sure he was really there, but at last it was time for her to put on her coat. As soon as they were outside, she looked up at him. ‘Why did you stop writing? I thought you’d found somebody else, then I thought you’d been ... killed. Oh, I just didna ken what to think.’
‘There’ll never be anybody else for me, Elspeth.’
David’s voice was quiet, and she felt herself responding to his earnestness. She had a deep affection for him – no, it was more than that. She did love him.
‘I was wounded the week after I went back, and I was in a French hospital, a monastery it had been once.’ He paused, unwilling to tell her that he had been delirious for weeks. ‘Well, the sisters thought I might have to lose my leg, and I couldn’t risk telling you. If you’d said you loved me after that, I’d never have ken’t if it was true or out o’ pity, and I couldna face that. But, thank God, they managed to save it, though it’s shorter than the other one and I’ll aye be a cripple.’
‘Oh, David,’ she half-sobbed, ‘I’m sorry about your leg, but I’m awful glad you weren’t killed. At least you’ve come back to me.’
He didn’t tell her that he had often wished that he had been killed. It would have saved him from the excruciating pain he’d had to suffer, and the mind-twisting nightmares which had returned, worse than ever. Careful surgery and tender nur
sing had brought him back to sanity, however, and by the time he was transferred to a hospital in the north of England, he had been looking forward to coming home – home to this wonderful girl. Although he had contacted his father then, he still hadn’t written to her. He wanted to see her face when she discovered that he was safe, and her reaction was all that he had hoped for. ‘Will you marry me now?’
Her hesitation lasted for only a fraction of a second. She couldn’t expect to love anyone as intensely as she had loved John Forrest, but her love for David was different. ‘Aye,’ she said, seriously. ‘Aye, David, I will.’
His haggard face lit up as he grasped her hand tightly, and on the tram he sat with his arm round her, both of them so wrapped up in their love that they were quite oblivious of the smiles of the other passengers. When they burst in on Helen, she was delighted to see David home safely and didn’t need to ask why they were so happy. They decided on a quiet wedding as soon as possible, and were still discussing it when Jimmy came home, so he joined in the jubilation, while wee John moved from one to the other, wondering what all the excitement was about.
When it was time for David to leave, Elspeth said that she would go to the end of the lane with him, and as soon as they had gone out, Helen sighed, ‘Oh, I’m that pleased for her, though it’s going to break my heart when she leaves us, but she deserves some happiness, the poor lassie, and David’s a good man for her.’
Jimmy had stretched over to pick up the Press and Journal from the table, but his wife’s words made him retract his hand. ‘Aye,’ he said, slowly, ‘he’s a good man, and he’ll understand about John.’
His wife looked puzzled. ‘What’s John got to do wi’ it?’
‘Oh, Helen,’ he said, sadly, ‘John’s got everything to do wi’ it. Elspeth’ll want to take him wi’ her when she gets wed, and you’ll have to give him up.’
‘But why would she want to take our John?’
Shaking his head, Jimmy said, carefully, and very gently, ‘I should have said something long before this, but ... I ken’t you werena yourself. You’ll have to face up to it now, though. John’s Elspeth’s son, lass, not ours.’
Her perplexity deepening, she said, ‘I don’t know what you’re speaking about. What funny idea have you got in your head now?’
‘I wish to God it was just a funny idea, for it’s been eating at my very soul for years. John belongs to Elspeth.’
‘No, no!’ she burst out, her whole face crinkling. ‘How can you say that, when you ken what a hard time I had when he was born?’
‘Aye, you’d a terrible time, but it wasna wi’ John.’
‘It was, oh Jimmy, it was wi’ John. He’s not Elspeth’s.’
‘Aye, lass, he is. There’s no getting away from it.’
‘But, I ... Doctor Robb was here when I had him, Jimmy, you ken that. He’ll tell you himself, if you ask him.’ His heart aching for her, her husband had risen from his own chair to kneel beside her, and now he took her hand gently in his. ‘I don’t need to ask him, Helen. He was here attending to you, but ... you lost your bairnie. Do you not mind, she was dead born?’
Her lips quivered. ‘D ... dead born? No, it’s not true. What are you trying to do to me?’
‘I’m trying to make you face the truth, lass.’
Her eyes wild now, her fingers tore at her hair. ‘You’re trying to drive me mad, that’s what it is. How can you say things like that to me?’
He gripped the hand he was holding, even tighter. ‘Helen, lass, I’d do anything not to have to say them, but they’ve got to be said now.’
‘I’ll not listen!’ she screamed.
‘You’ll have to listen.’ He let go her hand and put his arms round her. ‘You were sleeping after Doctor Robb went away, and when you woke up and saw Elspeth wi’ John, you thought he was your baby.’
Her chest heaving now, she shook her head as if she were a dog worrying a rabbit. ‘John was my baby!’ It was a wail, a pathetic wail that tore at her husband’s heart. ‘He came out of my womb, and I suckled him ...’
‘The infant that came out of your womb was dead, Helen. It had been dead for weeks, that’s what Elspeth told me the doctor said, and it was after Elspeth had John. I ken you suckled him, but I should never have let that go on, and neither should Elspeth, but maybe she didna want to hurt you either, seeing it was you took wee John into the world when the midwife couldna come. And you nursed her back to health, the same as she did for you. Do you not remember?’
The sudden anguish on his wife’s face made him increase the pressure of his embrace. ‘I don’t blame you, Helen, for you were out o’ your mind at the time. You’d lost your own infant, and you couldna accept it ... maybe you couldna even take it in, but I’ve been heart-sorry for Elspeth sometimes, and when Donald was here, I near tell’t him myself that John wasna his brother.’
After a long silence, Helen said, ‘There was aye some-thing at the back o’ my mind that bothered me, but ...’ She broke off, tears edging down her now chalk white cheeks. ‘Oh God, Jimmy, what have I done?’
‘You couldna help it, lass. You’d had a big shock, and you couldna believe you’d lost your own bairnie when wee John was there in front o’ your eyes.’
‘You say I attended to Elspeth? Was it not her bairn that was dead born?’
The hope rising again in her eyes made her husband’s throat tighten. ‘No, Helen, it was ours.’
Her hands were fidgeting now, as she tried to picture the sequence of events. ‘I could sometimes see that poor, wee purple infant in my mind, but I kept telling myself it was Elspeth’s, and that was why I had to bind her to stop her milk coming. I can mind on that.’
‘She was too weak to feed John, that was why you’d to stop her milk coming. Oh, Helen, lass, I’m sorry for bringing it all back to you, but I had to sort things out for Elspeth, though I wish to God I’d done it years ago.’
The tremor in his voice made her stroke his stubbly cheek. ‘And I wish you’d done it years ago, and all, but I can see why you held back.’
Relieved that it was over, Jimmy stood up and rubbed his knees. ‘That hasna helped my rheumatics,’ he observed, ruefully, knowing, as he sat down, that Helen was agonizing over the terrible thing she had done.
They were sitting silently when Elspeth came back. ‘I can’t believe it yet,’ she said, blissfully, surprised that they didn’t seem eager to carry on the discussion about her forthcoming wedding.
Jimmy cleared his throat. ‘Me and Helen was ... have you tell’t David about young John?’
It was like a kick in the teeth to her, and her radiance vanished as if it had been turned off at a tap, her face crumpling. She had forgotten that David didn’t know the truth about John’s parentage, she had almost forgotten herself that John was not Helen’s son. Helen? Elspeth turned to the woman, whose tortured face told her all she needed to know. ‘You’ve minded?’ she whispered.
‘It was Jimmy tell’t me, but I’ve minded now. Oh, Elspeth, I’m sorry. It must have been awful for you to stand by and watch me ...’
Afraid that his wife would become too emotional, Jimmy interrupted her. ‘Have you tell’t David?’ he asked Elspeth again.
‘No, I havena. I thought ... I ken’t Helen thought John was hers, and I ... I havena had time to think ...’
‘You’ll need to think about it, though,’ Jimmy stated, firmly. ‘John’s your son, and if you want to take him wi’ you when you wed David ... it’s up to you, for Helen kens where her duty lies now.’
Looking distracted, Elspeth moaned, ‘Oh, Helen, what should I do?’ She was pleading for her mind to be made up for her, but her landlady shook her head.
‘I’m saying nothing. I’ve caused you enough trouble, and I’m willing to give John up if you want to take him, but you’ll have to work this out for yourself.’
‘David thinks John’s your son, and I don’t want to hurt him – he’s suffered enough already.’
‘You’ll have to make your
mind up, one way or the other.’ Helen looked as miserable as the girl.
‘If I tell him John’s mine, and he’s illegitimate, he might change his mind about marrying me, and I ...’
Jimmy got to his feet and came over to pat Elspeth’s head awkwardly. ‘I’m sorry we’ve spoiled it for you, lass, but it had to be sorted out before the wedding. Sleep on it, and see what you think in the morning.’
The two women eyed each other uncertainly as they listened to him taking the lavatory key off its hook in the lobby and going down the stairs, then Helen said, slowly, ‘It’s all my fault you’re in this predicament now, lass, and I’ll never forgive myself for it, but Jimmy’s right. Things’ll not look so bad once you’ve had a good night’s sleep.’
In her little room, Elspeth wrestled with her thoughts. The Watsons would be heartbroken if she took her child away from them, but they would respect her wishes, if that was what she decided. But what about John himself? Was it fair to spring it on him, at four years old, that Helen and Jimmy were not his real parents and to catapult him into a situation that could only confuse him? David would be a good father – if he accepted the boy. On the other hand, he might be hurt and angry with her for not telling him the truth before, and John’s presence would be a permanent reminder to him of her love for another man – two pointers to his future resentment of the child.
Her torment lasted for hours, and she wept silently before she came to her decision, with the prayer that John Forrest would understand why she was giving up their son. She would be surrendering all hope of ever claiming the boy again, but it was the only thing to do in the circumstances and she would be leaving him in good hands. Helen was a fine woman, a caring woman, and, apart from the mix-up over John – which had only come about through her own tragedy – she had been a true friend, the best there could ever be.
When she told Helen in the morning what she had decided, her landlady, having also spent a night of agony, knew exactly how much it would cost Elspeth to leave her son behind, for she would have felt the same if the decision had gone the other way. ‘Thank you, lassie, for what you’re doing for us,’ she breathed, ‘and you can come to see John as often as you like. Mind now.’
Time Shall Reap Page 18
