‘I’m sorry … I thought it would save …’
‘Two rooms have been made ready for you on the top floor, so there is no more to be said.’ The old lady laid down her pen to press a bell on the wall behind her, and when the maid ran in, she said, ‘Show … Sandy up to his room, Gladys. I wish to talk privately to his mother.’
‘Yes, ma’am.’
The door had scarcely closed when Miss Wallace turned her penetrating gaze on Mysie again. ‘I will make this clear from the start – I am prepared to put up with your son, provided that he is quiet.’
‘I’ll mak’ sure he is. He’s nae really a bad loon …’
The thin lips tightened. ‘And I must insist that both you and he will learn to talk the King’s English.’
Mysie felt indignant. ‘My mother aye tell’t us to keep a good Scots tongue in oor heads, and I’ve aye spoke like this, though I was learned English at the school.’
The lowering brows descended even farther. ‘You were taught English, although it certainly does not sound like it, but even if you have always spoken in that ridiculous dialect, you will do so no longer, not in front of me, at least. Now, my niece told me that you …’ she coughed discreetly ‘… that you are with child. I hope that you are not one of those sickly creatures who will take to her bed at the least excuse and be fit for nothing for weeks?’
‘I’ve had twa … two loons … sons already, though Jamie died, an’ I worked right up to the day they were born.’
‘And afterwards?’ There was a hint of amusement in the old lady’s eyes now, but Mysie was too anxious to recognise it.
‘I was back on my feet the next day.’
‘I am pleased to hear it. I had hoped for someone older, but Margaret has great confidence in your ability, and I trust her judgement. Now that we understand each other, Mrs Duncan – I will call you that meantime, it is more fitting in view of your condition – I believe that you will suit me very well.’
‘Thank you, Miss Wallace.’ Mysie turned and went out into the hall, where Gladys was waiting to show her up to her room.
‘That’s Sandy’s room,’ the maid told her, pointing before she ran down the stairs again.
Mysie went into her room to lay down the valise Mrs Phillip had given her for carrying their clothes, then opened the next door. ‘Oh, this is a nice room,’ she exclaimed, hoping to cheer Sandy up, because he was sitting rigidly on his bed, his mouth drooping and his eyes mournful. ‘Do you like it?’
‘I dinna like her,’ he mumbled, pulling a face. ‘Do we ha’e to bide here, Mam?’
‘Aye, I’m sorry, my loon, but we’ll ha’e to.’ Mysie caught herself. She was speaking in the Doric again. ‘Sandy,’ she said, apologetically, ‘Miss Wallace wants us to speak English, like in your school books.’
‘Will I ha’e to go to a new school?’
‘Yes, but I’ll need to ask her about it, for there’s lots o’ schools in Aberdeen. Now, come through and I’ll give you your claes … clothes, but watch and not crease them when you’re laying them by in the drawers. It was good o’ Mrs Phillip to give you what her Bobby had grown out of.’
‘But I’m as big as him,’ Sandy pointed out, as he followed her, ‘so they’ll be ower little for me as weel.’
‘They’re all you’ve got.’ She emptied the bag on her own bed and separated his clothes from hers. ‘There you go now, and try to speak right in front of Miss Wallace, for I wouldn’t want to cross her. She could put us out.’
‘Did Mrs Phillip put us oot?’
‘No … aye. Oh, Sandy, I canna explain. Something happened an’ we had to leave.’
‘But what …?’
‘Stop askin’ questions, there’s a good loon, and go and put your things past. I’ll be going down the stairs when I’ve laid mine away, but I want you to bide up here till I tell you.’ He looked at her so forlornly as he went out that she wished with all her heart that things had been different.
When all her own clothes were laid away tidily, Mysie went downstairs, knocked on the sitting-room door and opened it. ‘Excuse me, Miss Wallace, but what school will Sandy go to?’
The old lady frowned as she looked up from the letter she was still writing. ‘Ashley Road School. It’s only a little bit along the street, on the opposite side. You may take your son there while I am having my nap after lunch, and the headmaster will probably tell him to begin on Monday, so he will have the weekend to acclimatise himself to his new surroundings.’
‘Thank you, Miss Wallace. Er … what do you want me to cook for your luncheon?’
‘Luncheon?’ The word rang out sarcastically. ‘My niece may have fancy ideas nowadays, but she was brought up, as I was, to say “lunch”. My father, her grandfather, worked up from the bottom to his managerial position, and he called it “dinner” to the end of his days, although my mother constantly corrected him. Another thing, I know Margaret has “dinner” at seven, but I prefer to have “tea” at five.’
Mysie laughed, feeling easier with her now. ‘We used to call that “supper”, and we had “dinner” in the middle of the day, but what about today’s lunch?’
‘Gladys will tell you what is in the larder. I will give you a month’s housekeeping allowance at a time, and I expect you to account for every penny. Off you go, because I have lunch at one, but I would like to talk to Sandy on his own.’
Her heart sinking, Mysie ran up to fetch him. ‘An’ mind an’ speak English to her,’ she warned him. Sandy was noncommittal when he came into the kitchen later, so she asked, ‘What did she say to you?’
‘She just wanted to get to ken me, that’s a’.’
‘Did you mind an’ speak right?’
‘She never said I wasna speakin’ right.’
As Miss Wallace had foreseen, when Mysie took Sandy along to Ashley Road School that afternoon, the headmaster told him to start on Monday. ‘What do you think?’ she asked, while they were walking back to the house. ‘Will you like it?’
‘It’s awfu’ big.’
‘They’re a’ big schools in Aberdeen, but your teacher looked real nice. It was good o’ the domin … headmaster to show you the class you’d be in.’
‘Aye.’ He didn’t sound too enthusiastic.
Gladys said she went home at seven every evening, so Mysie and her son sat by the kitchen fire until eight o’clock, when she made him go to bed. Alone, she thought of Doddie, of the months they had lived together at Rowanbrae, of the hours he had been with her when he was on leave. She would never be a whole woman again without him. The cruelty of fate made her weep, quietly and hopelessly.
When she recovered, she rose and went over to the sink to wash her face. Miss Wallace rang at nine. ‘Help me upstairs,’ she ordered, when Mysie went through. ‘My legs are so stiff that I can’t manage on my own. Is Sandy in bed? I like him, you know. He will put life into the house.’
As long as he behaves himself, Mysie thought, but took the old lady’s arm as they mounted the stairs. ‘Will I bring up a cup of cocoa or something to you?’
‘In about fifteen minutes. I usually read for a little.’
After she had seen Miss Wallace settled, Mysie went to bed herself. She still wasn’t sure if she would like working here, but she had burned her boats now.
On the next day, Saturday, Mysie took Sandy with her to buy meat and groceries for the weekend, carefully recording each purchase in the little book the previous housekeeper had used. ‘Miss Wallace likes you,’ she told her son when the shopping was over. ‘What did you say to her?’
‘Ach, Mam, I canna mind noo, but she was laughin’ whiles, an’ she’s nae so bad when you get to ken her.’
Mysie left it at that. As long as the old lady could laugh at what he said, everything would be all right.
Everything wasn’t all right, however. When Sandy came home from school on Monday afternoon, he had a thick lip and a rip in his jacket. ‘You’ve been fightin’!’ Mysie accused. ‘Oh, Sandy, can you nae behave
yoursel’ at a’?’
‘The other loons waited in the playground for me, an’ they was laughin’ at me for the way I speak, so I thumped ane an’ him an’ some o’ the other anes turned on me.’
‘Get your face washed and I’ll put some ointment on.’ Mysie didn’t know whether to be angry with him or glad that he had stood up for himself. ‘And give me your jacket so I can mend it afore Miss Wallace sees the state you’re in, for she said she wanted to see you when you came home from the school.’
He was with the old lady for about fifteen minutes, and came back looking quite pleased with himself. ‘She laughed when I tell’t … told her about the fight, an’ she said the only way to get the better o’ them was to speak the same as them.’
‘You’ll maybe take a telling from her then,’ Mysie snapped.
‘It’s funny, though,’ he observed, as he sat down. ‘Bobby Phillip never laughed at me, an’ he spoke like them.’
‘Bobby Phillip and you were a pair, and you’ll need to behave yourself better here.’ He would miss Bobby in the holidays, Mysie mused, but maybe he would make a friend at school.
‘Miss Wallace is wantin’ to help me wi’ my home lessons. She says she was clever when she was at the school, an’ she near died laughin’ when I said I didna ken schools was invented as lang ago as when she was young.’
Mysie was appalled. ‘Oh, you didna say that to her?’
In spite of her fears that the old lady would turn against Sandy for being so outspoken, the next half hour established a pattern. Sandy went to the sitting room every day and did his homework with Miss Wallace sitting beside him at the bureau. His speech, and Mysie’s, quickly altered, until they lost almost all their dialect, only a word or two slipping in if they spoke without thinking.
Gladys, always afraid of her mistress, left one day in tears after being scolded for upsetting a tea-tray, and Mabel, the new maid, seemed just as nervous, although Mysie told her that the old lady’s bark was worse than her bite. She was nervous herself, however, when Miss Wallace told her to sit down one morning. ‘When is your confinement due, Mrs Duncan?’
‘Five weeks yet.’
‘How are you coping with all the work you have to do?’
‘Oh, I’m managing fine. I told you, I worked right up …’
‘But this is a much bigger house than you had, and … oh, I suppose it will be all right, but have you thought of where you will give birth?’
‘Where?’ Mysie’s heart fluttered. Was this her dismissal? ‘I hadna thought about that.’
‘I have thought about it. You will have your baby here, and I will hire a midwifery nurse for two weeks so that you will have time to recover properly.’
‘But I canna pay for a nurse. Is there nae a woman …?’
‘I will pay for the nurse. I will also pay for everything the infant will need.’
‘But I canna let you do that.’
Miss Wallace shook her head. ‘I want to do it. You and your son have changed my life completely. I feel years younger, and I want to repay you.’
‘But you give me wages, and it’s senseless you paying a nurse for two weeks when I …’
‘If there is one thing which annoys me, it is kindness being thrown back in my face.’
‘I’m sorry. I didna mean to … oh, Miss Wallace, it’s very good of you.’
Mysie had another weep that night. After all those wicked things she had done, she didn’t deserve kindness like this. If Miss Wallace ever found out that Doddie wasn’t her husband, or that he had stabbed Jeems – she was practically sure now that she hadn’t done it herself – or that she had buried the body, the old lady would be sure to throw her out. And where would she go with two children to bring up?
Chapter Eighteen
Because Mabel had an afternoon off, Mysie had to answer the doorbell herself at half-past three. When the caller – a tall, very thin man in the uniform of the Scots Guards – saw her, he exclaimed, ‘It’s Mrs Duncan, isn’t it? I didn’t expect to find you here. My sister must have lost what little sense she had before she let you go.’
Conscious of her bulky figure, and of the hot flush stealing across her face, she murmured, ‘Miss Wallace was looking for a housekeeper, and Mrs Phillip recommended me.’
‘Aunt Beatrice was delighted, I’m sure.’
Desperate to get away, Mysie said, ‘You’ll have to excuse me, Captain Wallace, but I’m in the middle of making the tea. Will you be staying?’
‘I hadn’t intended to, but the memory of your delicious meals has made me change my mind. Yes, thank you, I will stay.’
‘I expect you know your own way to the sitting room.’ Her legs shook as she returned to the kitchen. She had forgotten all about him, but Miss Wallace was his aunt, too, of course. Still, even if the old lady told him about Doddie’s death, he wouldn’t try to flirt with her, not when she was so uncomely. If he did start anything, she would just let him know that she hadn’t time to be bothered with that kind of nonsense – didn’t even want to be bothered with it – and he would soon stop.
At ten to five, she went to the dining room to set the table for two – when Miss Wallace was alone, she usually ate off the small table in the sitting room – but the old lady heard her and called to her to come through. ‘We will have tea in here, Mrs Duncan. I don’t think you have met my nephew?’
‘I met Mrs Duncan at Burnlea,’ he said, smiling to Mysie. ‘Has your husband been home on leave lately?’
‘Oh, Gregor, I should have told you.’ His aunt looked quite upset. ‘Mr Duncan was killed in action.’
His smile vanished. ‘I’m very sorry to hear that. Many fine men have lost their lives.’ His eyes had hardened. ‘I feel ashamed sometimes at only having been slightly wounded.’
‘You never told me about that,’ his aunt scolded.
‘I didn’t want to worry you, and it was only a scratch.’
‘Excuse me,’ Mysie ventured, ‘I’ll have to go. I’ve left Sandy watching the potatoes don’t boil in, and I don’t trust him.’
‘Yes, yes, off you go,’ Miss Wallace said, rather impatiently, then added, ‘Gregor will do the carrying for you, since Mabel is not here to help you. I will send him through shortly.’ It was the last thing Mysie wanted, and she turned on Sandy in a bad humour when she went back to the kitchen. ‘Have you not set our table yet?’
By the time she had dished everything up, she was a little calmer, but when Gregor came in, she pointed to the tray and said, coldly, ‘It’s all ready.’
‘I am really sorry about your husband, Mrs Duncan,’ he said, compassionately. ‘His death must have been much worse for you when you were expecting his child, and I expect you have not got over it yet?’
‘I’ll never get over it.’ Mysie wished that he would go away. She didn’t like speaking about it, for there was always the chance that she would inadvertently say something that would reveal more than she intended.
‘It must have been a bad time for you, and I suppose my aunt intimidated you when you first saw her, but she isn’t as bad as she would have people believe.’
‘I was a bit worried at first, but she’d been very good to me, and to Sandy.’
‘How old is your son now? I remember Margaret telling me of the tricks he and Bobby played.’
‘Sandy’s eleven past January.’
The boy spoke up himself. ‘I’m in the qualifying class and Miss King says I’ll pass the control exam easy … easily.’
‘I’m sure you will. Now, I’d better take this tray through before my aunt starts thinking she’ll never get her tea.’
His old cheerfulness had vanished, Mysie thought, watching him going out. His back wasn’t as straight as it used to be, his face was haggard and he didn’t tease any more. It was as if he had lost a loved one himself, although she didn’t know if he had ever had a wife. It could be the war having an effect on him, though – maybe he had seen one or more of his friends killed, and that would be enough
to change any man. The Captain didn’t say much when he took back the dishes and collected the dessert, and Mysie couldn’t help feeling sad that he was so subdued. She carried the coffee through herself, and was surprised to find that he wasn’t there.
Miss Wallace looked up. ‘Gregor had to go, he has to meet someone at six, but he said to tell you how much he enjoyed his meal. He usually only visits me once during his leave, so I suppose I shall not see him again this time.’
An unexpected pang of disappointment touched Mysie. ‘Doesn’t he live near here?’
‘Not far, but he has his own life to lead. He was left the house in Forest Avenue when my brother, his father, died, and lives there when he is on leave. A housekeeper looks after it while he is away, but I often wish that he would marry. He led quite a gay life while he was at university, taking home lots of girls but never wanting to settle down with any of them. Perhaps he will meet his heart’s desire after the war. He is forty-two now, and seems more serious than he used to be.’
So his aunt had noticed it, too, Mysie thought, hoping that he would find his heart’s desire after the war. He was too nice to end up a lonely old bachelor.
On the following day, Sandy came home with a note from his headmaster, saying that the boy was capable of going on to a secondary school rather than an intermediate, and enclosing a form to be signed. Mysie showed it to her employer, who said, ‘Tick which school you prefer, Mrs Duncan, and sign the form.’
‘But I can’t afford to buy a uniform for him,’ Mysie pointed out, without thinking.
‘I will provide his uniform,’ Miss Wallace said, firmly.
Mysie looked at the form again. ‘Gordon’s College and the Grammar School are both private and charge fees.’ The old lady frowned. ‘I am aware of that, and I will see to the fees, too. Is it to be the Grammar, where Lord Byron was educated, or Gordon’s where Gregor went?’
‘I can’t let you pay uniforms and fees,’ Mysie protested, amused that Miss Wallace could place her nephew in the same category as the great poet. ‘The Central School’s free, so he’d better go there … if it’s good enough.’
The Road to Rowanbrae Page 19
