Time Shall Reap

by Doris Davidson

  Taking one look at the girl’s anguished face, Helen Watson knew that the fatal moment had come, that Elspeth had told her daughter the truth, and that she, Helen, must own up to her part in the deception. ‘Come in, Laura,’ she said, as cheerfully as she could with her lips frozen and her heart somersaulting in panic. ‘Jimmy’s working late the night, so we’ll have the house to ourselves.’

  Laura laid her haversack on the floor. ‘I’ve left home.’ It came out calmly, in spite of the boiling anger in her heart, in spite of the sickening agony in her innards, in spite of the scream waiting in her throat – the scream which, once released, might carry on for ever. ‘My ... I’ve been told why John and I can’t marry, but I want to hear your side of the story.’

  ‘Laura, I’m heart-sorry for you and John, but I’m sure your mother’s tell’t you the truth.’

  ‘A bit late, wouldn’t you say?’ The girl couldn’t help the bitter sarcasm. ‘And I still want to hear it from you.’

  ‘If that’s what you want.’ Helen sat down, gesturing to the girl to do likewise, but Laura shook her head, and after a brief pause, the older woman began. ‘Your mother was a pathetic wee creature the first time I met her ...’ Her version differed from Elspeth’s only by beginning a few months later – in the train instead of on the road to the cottar house in a snowstorm. Strangely enough, neither of them mentioned the time she had spent at Rosemount Viaduct, letting their listeners conclude that Elspeth had gone to Quarry Street as soon as she arrived in Aberdeen.

  The girl said nothing until she heard why the confusion over whose child it was hadn’t been corrected. ‘So it all stemmed from not wanting her character blackened?’

  ‘That meant a lot in those days,’ Helen reminded her. ‘It was a real disgrace for a single lassie to have a bairn.’

  ‘She’d have got over it,’ Laura said, sarcastically. ‘It would have blown over and been forgotten.’

  ‘It might have, if I hadn’t lost my baby and my wits. I’d come to believe John was mine, and your mother didn’t want to hurt me by claiming him, and it was just before she married your father that Jimmy brought me to my senses.’

  ‘I can’t excuse her for not telling Dad right from the start, but even if she’d only owned up when they were married, John and I would never have ...’

  The girl’s bitterness and the naked torture in her eyes were like stakes being driven into Helen’s heart. ‘It was my blame at the start, and it wasn’t easy for her to give her bairn up when she was wed. She wasna thinking o’ herself, it was your father she was thinking o’, and me and Jimmy, and John. It near broke her heart to leave him. Can you not understand how she was placed, lassie, and have some pity for her?’

  Picking up her haversack, Laura said, stonily, ‘It’s you two living a lie all these years that I can’t stomach. I’ll never forgive her for what’s she’s done, nor you, either.’

  The tears came again when Laura was walking down the lane, and she was at the edge of the quarry before she realized that she had walked up the grassy bank. Bewildered, she looked at the opposite side, and could see the observation platform which had been built to give sightseers a safe view of the awe-inspiring hole. A cable, slung between two pylons, spanned the chasm, and she remembered Jimmy once saying that this was known as the Blondin, although the famous tightrope walker had never attempted to walk across it. Suspended from the cable were the wire cages used to transport stone and men from the quarry floor. Shifting her gaze, she could see, just below the edge, flights of wooden steps fixed against the sheer side, and found her eyes following them down, down, down, hundreds of feet to the bottom, where the idle pieces of equipment looked like toys.

  To her left, the machinery of the crusher was grinding slowly – the mills of God? – yet the whole place had an air of unreality about it in the semi-darkness, a sense of doom, and as she stood on the brink looking down, she wondered if she was being given a sign of what to do. Was this what fate had decided for her? Was this to be the end? Jimmy had also told her once that several suicides had taken place here over the years, but even as she contemplated it she knew she hadn’t the courage to jump. There could be no easy way out for her. She must face the excruciating ordeal of telling John the whole distasteful story, to explain why they could never marry.

  Turning, she went down the bank again and continued on her way to the tram stop at the end of the lane, the lines having been extended, years ago, to Hazlehead, not far from Oldmill Hospital where her father had been a patient in the first war. This route was one of the most beautiful in Aberdeen, but she saw nothing of the graceful trees and colourful gardens on her journey, and was still in a state of limbo when she reached Union Street. Forcing herself to think, she booked into a rather second-rate hotel near the railway station, and spent most of the night going over her mother’s terrible revelation, positive that this evening would remain for ever in her mind as the worst in her life.

  When Jimmy arrived home – about fifteen minutes after Laura had left – his wife led up to the ghastly confrontation by telling him about her other visitor first. ‘Elspeth was here this morning and it’s gone a lot further between Laura and John than you tried to make out, for they meant to get wed.’

  ‘Oh, surely no’. That wouldna be possible.’ Jimmy, a week short of his sixty-fifth birthday, felt too tired, after a full day’s work and two hours’ overtime, to contend with a situation like this, but he knew that his wife wouldn’t let it rest.

  ‘Me and Elspeth both ken’t that,’ she was saying, ‘and we racked our brains trying to think how to stop it, but the only thing was for her to tell the lassie the truth, and Laura come here a wee while ago to get my side o’ the story. She’s left home, Jimmy, and she says she’ll never forgive her mother, or me either.’

  ‘Poor Laura, but it’s better to be out in the open at last.’ Jimmy bent down to remove his boots. ‘She’s young, though, and she’ll get over it – it’s Elspeth I’m sorriest for. Fate aye has something up its sleeve to knock her down wi’. It’s a great pity the lassie walked out, but David’ll understand what his wife went through, for he’s a good man.’

  ‘That’s right,’ Helen said, in some relief. ‘He’ll not let Elspeth down. He’ll stand by her.’

  Chapter Twenty-three

  After a gruelling night, and an equally gruelling train journey the following forenoon, Laura telephoned to Turnhouse Aerodrome from a kiosk in Princes Street. ‘John, I must see you,’ she said, when the operator eventually located him. ‘I’ve something awful to tell you.’

  Her voice sounded strained, but he knew how prone she was to exaggeration. ‘I can’t come to Aberdeen just now.’

  ‘I’m not in Aberdeen, I’m in Edinburgh.’

  ‘But I can’t drop everything and run, we’re going up on a recce tonight.’ A vague foreboding had stolen over him. ‘What’s up? You’re not due back for more than a week.’

  ‘John, it’s vitally important, but I can’t tell you over the phone. Can you meet me outside the ’drome?’

  Sensing her urgency, he said, ‘OK, make it fifteen hundred at the main gate.’

  Laura booked into a small hotel off Leith Walk, and lay on the bed to rehearse what she would say, but after half an hour she decided that it was impossible to cushion the lethal blow. It would have to be short and simple. Plain facts. She washed her face before going to catch the bus to Turnhouse, and had just arrived when John appeared.

  ‘What’s all the mystery, Laura? You sounded so serious.’

  She brushed off his arm when he tried to link it with hers, and burst out, forgetting, in her misery, to make it plain and simple, ‘Oh John ... my mother’s your mother ... your mother and father knew about it ... but my father didn’t.’

  Her incoherency alarmed him, but he could see that she was nearly out of her mind and tried to calm her down. ‘I don’t know what you’re getting at, my dearest dear, but whatever it is, you’ve got it all wrong. I thought you knew the story b
y this time. Your mother lodged with my mother during the first war, that’s all.’

  ‘She’d an illegitimate baby and ... oh, God, it’s all a bloody, bloody mix-up!’

  He shook his head in bewilderment. ‘I can’t understand what you’re saying, Laura. You’re not making sense.’

  ‘I’m too upset to think straight.’ Her voice held a sob.

  ‘Would tea help? There’s a wee place along the road.’

  The tearoom was empty, but they chose a secluded corner, and John waited until two steaming cups were set in front of them before saying, ‘Now, Laura, tell me slowly.’

  Trying to be rational, she spoke deliberately as if to a child. ‘I was telling Mum and Dad about us, then Mum told us to listen without interrupting.’ She repeated Elspeth’s tale as fully as she could, and ended by asking, ‘Now do you understand? We’re half brother and sister.’

  John’s face had drained of all colour. ‘But why did ... what ...?’ He straightened up suddenly. ‘No, it’s not true.’

  ‘I wish to God it wasn’t, but Helen told me exactly the same. Her baby was stillborn, and all the neighbours thought you were hers ... and losing her own baby made her think you were hers, too.’ John’s stupefied expression made her wonder if her reaction had been the same, until she recalled her angry outburst at her mother. At least John was quiet. ‘They let my father think you were Helen’s, and he only learned the truth last night along with me, and when I said I was leaving for good, he said he would, too.’

  After a pause, John muttered, ‘I can’t believe it.’

  ‘That’s what I said, at first, but it’s true. We have the same mother, so we can never marry. It’s against the law.’

  She started to weep quietly, but John thumped his fist on the table, making the girl at the counter look at them in surprise. ‘It’s like the end of the world,’ he moaned, trying to keep his voice low. ‘How can I go on seeing you every day without ... oh, God, Laura, I can’t believe you’re my sister. It’s unthinkable.’

  They didn’t speak for some time, then John glanced at his watch. ‘I’m sorry, I’ll have to go back, darl ... er ... Laura. Laura, oh, Laura!’

  He buried his face in his hands, and she stroked his head. ‘I know, I’ve been through it all myself a dozen times. I’m going to apply for a posting and I won’t let you know where they send me. I’m never going back to Aberdeen, so there won’t be any chance of meeting accidentally there, either. It must be a clean break, it’s the only way.’

  When he could bring himself to speak, John said, brokenly, ‘I hope you won’t be angry, but I can’t forsake my parents, no matter how much they were involved in the deception. They brought me up, and had to make sacrifices to put me through my apprenticeship. I know they were disappointed when I gave up my job to join the RAF, but they didn’t try to stop me. I’ll always consider them as my mum and dad.’

  ‘Of course you will.’

  He walked her back to the bus stop. ‘Let me kiss you one last time, Laura,’ he pleaded as the bus approached.

  Her anger at her mother and Helen for causing so much trouble was dispelled by a rising flood of nausea. ‘Oh, no! We can’t even kiss each other goodbye – it’s a sin between brother and sister.’

  Jumping aboard the vehicle, she wept quietly for the entire journey, but in her hotel room she flung herself face down on the bed, great sobs breaking from her in wave after wave. At last, sapped, she walked across to the wash-basin in the corner, and, catching sight of her reflection in the mirror, she thought that even John wouldn’t find her attractive now, but what did it matter? What did anything matter any more?

  Suddenly, inexplicably, she was standing by the quarry again, and could feel herself drawing back from the brink. She had been unable – unwilling? – to end her life when she was given the opportunity, and she would have to make the best of it.

  Elspeth had sat in her chair all night, weeping in self-pity and regretting the past by turns. She had heard her husband pacing the floor of the spare room and had pitied him for the torment he must be going through. When she heard him coming out of the spare room, she sat up in the hope that he would come and tell her that he didn’t want her to leave, after all, but he went straight into the bathroom. As soon as she heard the door opening again, she ran into the hall, determined to make him talk to her. ‘David,’ she began, ‘I’m really sorry for what I did ...’

  His eyes were like flint as he looked at her. ‘There’s no point in saying anything else. I haven’t changed my mind, and I don’t want to find you here when I get home tonight.’

  ‘Oh, please, David, listen to me. I thought you wouldn’t want to marry me if you knew I’d had an illegitimate child, that’s why I didn’t tell you. I should have known you were too good a man to ...’

  ‘I was too gullible,’ he snapped. ‘I suppose you married me because you were sorry for me.’

  ‘I married you because I loved you, and I didn’t want to hurt you after what you’d been through. That’s why I let Helen and Jimmy keep John.’

  His expression had softened a little, but unfortunately his eyes fell on the grandfather clock. ‘And you were quite happy to take that thing into my house so you could remember your lover?’ he said, coldly.

  ‘I didn’t want to take it, my mother could have told you that it was Mrs Forrest that made me.’

  ‘Your mother had known about your bastard, of course. She must have taken me for a proper fool.’

  ‘I told her the baby died.’

  ‘What an accomplished liar you were, and did the other woman know ... his mother?’

  ‘No, Mrs Forrest never knew about it. Oh, David, all the lies I told were to save you being hurt.’

  ‘But you ended up crucifying me, and I could never trust you again. Get out of my way, I have to get dressed.’

  She stood aside then, her shoulders drooping, her senses numb, but she knew that the pain would come later. Mean-time, she had to make one last effort, but as soon as David came out of the bedroom she could tell by his face that it would be useless. Nevertheless, she tried. ‘Please ...?’

  ‘Take whatever you want,’ he frowned, ‘because you’ll never get back.’

  She stood for some minutes after he went out, but at last she went to wash and change her clothes. If she had to leave, it would be best to go as quickly as possible. After packing some things into a suitcase, she went into the scullery to make herself a cup of tea, and just over ten minutes later she walked into the hall again. Half past nine on her beloved grandfather clock, which had been the cause of David’s well-founded jealousy, and which he would likely get rid of once she had gone. Opening the door, she took one last look at the pendulum with its entwined initials JF–EG. This was her only legacy of John Forrest’s love ... no, that wasn’t altogether true. He had also left her with something far more precious than this – his son ... the son she had deserted and cruelly wounded, though John wouldn’t know yet about what she had done to him, not unless Laura had gone straight to Edinburgh after she walked out last night.

  Elspeth gulped. This was the end of more than twenty-one years of marriage, the end of David, of Laura, of John. She would have to start from scratch again, but she had made one fresh start in her life carrying only a Gladstone bag – though look how that had ended – and this time she had a suitcase. Where would she go from here? Not to Helen Watson this time, for she had inflicted enough trouble on her already. Without planning it, Elspeth found herself walking down King’s Gate. Ann Robb would advise her what to do.

  The doctor’s wife was surprised when her young maid showed Elspeth in, and alarmed when she saw the case. ‘Where are you going? I hope nothing’s wrong?’

  ‘Oh, Mrs Robb, David knows about John and there’s been an awful row.’

  ‘How on earth did he find out, Elspeth? Who could have told him? Surely not Mr or Mrs Watson?’

  ‘Laura and John fell in love and they were going to get married, so I had to tell her and
David myself, and she said she’d never forgive me and just walked out.’

  ‘Oh, Elspeth, I’m so sorry, but what about David?’

  ‘He’s put me out. He said he couldn’t trust me again after the lies I told.’

  Ann felt like reminding her that she’d been advised at the time to be honest with her bridegroom, but Elspeth was in no fit state for that. ‘Have you anywhere to go?’

  ‘That’s why I came to you ... oh!’ Elspeth stopped, and added hastily, ‘I wasn’t asking you to take me in. I just thought you’d tell me what I could do.’

  ‘Look, my dear, you’re quite welcome to stay, for as long as you want. Alex won’t mind, and the children are away.’

  Elspeth knew that Alexander was an officer in the Seaforth Highlanders, and that Laura was married to a captain in the Merchant Navy and living in Portsmouth, but she couldn’t accept Mrs Robb’s offer. ‘I’d be too near David here. I’ll have to go right away, but I can’t think where.’

  Correctly interpreting her problem, Mrs Robb said, ‘If you’re worried about money, you’ll have to find yourself a job wherever you go.’

  ‘But I haven’t worked since I was married, and ...’

  ‘Wait!’ Ann’s head shot up. ‘Didn’t you tell me once that your mother had told her solicitor to put the money he got from the sale of her belongings in a trust for you?’

  A rather uncertain, tremulous smile hovered on Elspeth’s lips for a moment. ‘I’d forgotten that. She must have had second sight, for she said there could come a time when I’d need it. There wouldn’t be much, but it would see me through for a wee while. Oh, Mrs Robb, I knew I could count on you.’

  ‘I haven’t done anything. You’d have remembered yourself when you were calmer. Do you have enough money for your fare to Auchlonie to see the solicitor?’

  ‘I’ve a few pounds in my purse.’

  ‘Well, if you run into any problems over the trust, come back here and we’ll see what we can work out. As my mother used to say, “There’s light at the end of every tunnel.”’