Jamie pulled off her boots and the smock Sadie had given her. Having no nightclothes, she had become accustomed to sleeping in her tunic and breeches. She dropped onto the bed, then realized she had not even unpacked the few belongings she was able to call her own. She sat up, set her pack on the bed, and opened it. But she never got beyond the first item. It was her grandfather’s worn, old Bible. A knot rose in her throat at the sight; she was surprised to find the tears rising so quickly to her eyes.
How distant life with her grandfather already seemed! Alone in that cold, second-floor room above a dockside Aberdeen pub, how she longed for his gentle voice and warm reassuring presence. It ached to think of it, but she had not since his death felt any love like his. He had told her many times of the Heavenly Father whose love was always with them. But it was hard to sense that sort of love in surroundings such as these. She yearned at that moment, her body so weary, her heart so sad, to feel that ever-present love. Just to know it was there was somehow not enough. There had to be something more to it.
She glanced down at the black book in her hands.
Surely the answer to such questions was there. But how could she know where to look? And reading was so difficult—she could barely make out what few words she did know. Perhaps tomorrow she would stay up a little longer and try to read. Tomorrow she would be used to the long hours; tomorrow it would all come a little easier.
As she lay down and fell quickly asleep, the book slipped from her hands and fell unnoticed to the floor.
———
So the days passed. Gradually Jamie became more acclimated to the ways of the city.
As she found herself pining for Donachie, it could hardly be helped that something of her past inherent enthusiasm for life faded a bit. The city did not call out life to her spirit as the mountain had done.
But she carried out her tasks vigorously and with dedication. Therefore Sadie never noticed when her new maid from the hills began to lose the lively sparkle in her eyes which had always given her grandfather such joy. If the long sighs came for no apparent reason, Sadie concluded she was simply tired; if Jamie ate meagerly, how was Sadie to know she had ever done otherwise? She was a small enough girl, after all. And if Jamie did little other than sleep when she was not working, it was no doubt simply because she was too weary to do otherwise.
But the subtle change could not escape Robbie’s notice.
“The city’s not agreeing with you, Jamie,” he said one evening, half as question, half as observation.
“Oh, no. I’m jist fine!” she answered quickly, though even as she did so she could feel the falseness of her words.
“Come now! Are you not thinking of your home?”
“Weel,” she added sheepishly, “I might be missin’ the mountain a wee bit.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“No,” she answered firmly. How could she go back? Even though she missed the life she had left, that life was gone. Returning to Donachie could never recapture it. Too much was wrapped up on her coming to Aberdeen, things even Jamie was not fully aware of.
“Well, lass,” Robbie began, with all the sage wisdom of his twenty-one years, “if you’re here to stay, you’ll be happier all the sooner if you leave off your longing after the mountains and settle down to the business of getting used to Aberdeen.”
He was right. She knew it. Comparing the city streets to Donachie only made things worse. She had to stop wondering if the factor had found the sheep, or if there were yet any signs of spring on the mountain. Spring on Donachie! She thought of the green blades of grass which would begin peeking through the snow, and of the bright faces of the flowers that would gradually dot the fellsides, and of the rush of the little burn through the meadow.
Ah, the meadow, with all its—
But she was doing it again!
She must give up her dreaming of the past! She must learn to like the city. Robbie and Sadie loved Aberdeen like she loved Donachie. There must be many wonderful things about city life too. She would look for them and grow to love them like Robbie and Sadie did.
Over the ensuing weeks Jamie made a more concerted attempt to think of herself as belonging in the city. But in her effort to forget Donachie, the face of her grandfather faded somewhat too, and as it did, she turned less and less to his dear old Bible. The treasured book, the words of the Psalms, the sound of her grandfather’s voice as he read his favorite passages to her and tried to teach her to read them for herself—so much was wrapped up in the painful and confused reminders of Donachie. Perhaps these memories must be forgotten along with everything else.
At her tender age, with a faith still tenuously bound more to the memory of her grandfather than the Source of his own faith, she could not see that life in the city would have been much easier to face by strengthening such memories instead of erasing them.
But as in the blizzard, Jamie was never alone.
16
A Row on Hogmanay
Jamie could feel the excitement in the air despite knowing nothing about what festivals were like.
The day had begun early, with Sadie immediately commandeering Jamie’s help in the kitchen. Not only would there be more visitors on this day, this was one of the few times of the year when Sadie prepared many special foods. She appeared for once to genuinely enjoy herself in the kitchen with all the extra baking there was to be done. Over the past several years she had become widely known for her superb haggis, that peculiarly Scottish meaty fare prepared in a sheep’s bag, and she basked in the praise it brought her.
Jamie was set to work kneading dough for bread. While it was rising she swept the floors and served the few breakfast patrons. Washing up after breakfast, she noticed Sadie’s unusually cheerful mood.
“Tonight’ll be a special night,” she said brightly. “Hogmanay, it is—the eve o’ the new year! I expect half of the Aberdeen docks will come through my place. We’ll be wanting to put on our best face, you know. So this afternoon, once the rooms are swept and the glasses shined, you take yourself a bit of time to take a bath and get cleaned up.”
“Thank ye, mem.”
The bath that afternoon was delightful, though hardly to be compared with a summer afternoon’s dip in the burn that ran down Donachie, pooling here and there in wide still channels. When Jamie was finished she slipped back into her clothes. As she was putting away the soap and towels, Sadie walked by.
“’Tis getting late, child,” she said. “You’d best be getting yourself ready.”
“I am, mem. I jist had my bath.”
“And you have no other clothes to wear?”
“No, mem.”
“You can’t dress like that on Hogmanay day,” said Sadie. “You have nothing else?”
“No, mem.”
Sadie sighed. “Well,” she said after a thoughtful pause, “that just won’t do. Perhaps Robbie was right; you do need a woman’s hand. Come along with me—there must be something we can do.”
She took Jamie’s arm and led her through the kitchen and up the stairs to her own small apartment of two rooms at the front of the building.
As they walked through the door, Jamie’s eyes took in the sight with unabashed awe. Never had she seen anything so fine. The large bed was canopied and flounced with Queen Anne lace and pink ruffled dusters. A dressing table was similarly flounced and the windows were hung with lace. A china lamp painted with pink roses stood on the bedside table. An imitation Persian rug covered the floor. Jamie’s feet had never felt such softness beneath them; she thought she could have stood there forever. But Sadie was already urging her forward in the direction of the double-door oak wardrobe.
“Now,” said her employer, “there must be something here, though it’s going to be impossible to find anything to fit your spindly figure. Hmmm . . .”
As she spoke she began sorting through the many dresses. There was one of every color imaginable, each brighter, if not gaudier, than the next. Sadie pulled several out, loo
ked them over, but after each she shook her head and muttered comments to herself: “This color will never do,” or, “She’s much too young for this one,” or, “She’d swim in this.”
At last she drew out a simple gray muslin dress, its high collar trimmed with lace to match the cuffs. How a dress with such disarming simplicity had found its way into Sadie Malone’s wardrobe remained a mystery, but it proved the best selection for Jamie.
“Let’s get you into this and see what needs to be done.”
But Jamie’s attention had already been diverted to the dressing table on which stood a kaleidoscopic variety of bottles, jars, and vials. Her eyes were particularly drawn to a small lovely bottle of purple crystal. As if Sadie were reading her mind, she said, “We can get to that later. First let’s see about this dress.”
Requesting Jamie to remove her worn-out frock, Sadie carefully drew the muslin over her head. It hung limply on Jamie’s slight frame, but Sadie reached for a pin cushion from a drawer and began pinning and tucking where necessary. She had nearly finished raising up the hem with pins when a man’s voice called out from below.
“That’ll be the fish monger,” said Sadie, standing up. “And late—today of all days! See what you can do to finish up while I’m gone.”
She hurried out, leaving Jamie, still a bit bewildered, standing before the mirror.
As Jamie studied the strange image of herself before her in the glass, she wasn’t quite sure she liked what she saw. Her skin was so pale compared to Sadie’s pink cheeks and high color. And her dark hair just hung shapelessly around her shoulders. She tried to twist it and stick it to the top of her head as she had often seen Sadie do, but it fell back to its original state.
With a sigh Jamie turned and again studied the items on the dressing table. She reached toward the crystal bottle, took it in her hand, sniffed at it, and realized this was the very smell she always noted about Sadie. With a feeling of trepidation she poured a little on her hands and then rubbed it on her hair and face. This seemed to give her more courage, and she investigated some of the other containers. She discovered that a small jar of pink cream when applied to her cheeks gave her the same color as Sadie’s. A vial with something red in it was just the color of Sadie’s lips and Jamie lost no time in rubbing some on her own. She was engrossed in a box of powder when Sadie returned.
Sadie burst into a laugh when she saw Jamie’s reflection in the mirror. “What have we here?” she said. “Seems I once saw a clown in a circus that looked just like that!”
The laugh was good-natured, but Jamie could not help feeling embarrassed at being discovered in the act.
“I’m sorry, mem,” she said, her lower lip trembling slightly. “I was jist hopin’ t’ look like ye do yersel’. But I guess ’tis nae use.”
“You’re still a baby,” Sadie replied. “Give it time.”
The comforting intent of her words was somewhat lost, coming between fresh outbreaks of giggles. “You’d best do without all that for the time being.” She stepped closer, then stopped suddenly. “Whew!” she exclaimed. “Do I have any perfume left!”
“I . . . I—”
“Don’t worry, child! We can wash everything else off, but it would take another bath to get rid of the perfume. So we’ll just live with it until it wears off on its own.”
By the time the guests started arriving later that evening, Jamie still felt rather out of place in Sadie’s altered dress. Even with its tucks and hems it was still a poor fit. Notwithstanding the awkwardness she felt on account of the dress and the lingering fragrance of perfume about her, she could not help being disappointed when Robbie made no appearance as he had promised he would. Nor did it help that as she was threading her way through the jostling and rowdy crowd, a man backed into her and knocked the tray of full glasses of ale from her hand. Cursing her vigorously, Sadie’s manner was strangely foreign to the budding gaiety that had been present between them in her room earlier in the day. Kneeling on the floor to wipe up the mess at the feet of so many large and clumsy boots, Jamie could feel the hot tears of disappointment and embarrassment coming to her eyes. She wanted to run away and hide!
Then she stood up, bit her lip, and tried to brush off how foolish she felt in this strange place. She would never be at home here, nor would she ever be a lady! She was out of place, and the looks she received from all the gawking men only confirmed that fact. She straightened the dress and began elbowing her way through the crowd once more to get another tray of drinks from the kitchen. In a couple of minutes she emerged again.
As she made her way toward the back of the crowded room, a large muscular hand grasped her arm, pulling her in its direction. The next moment she found herself face-to-face with a thickset bearded sailor. His face was already red from too much drink and his lopsided smile revealed a missing tooth as he leered disconcertingly at the helpless barmaid.
“My cup’s dry, lassie!” he barked.
Hoping to place some distance between them, Jamie thrust her tray in front of him. “I hae some fresh ones fer ye,” she said.
Until this night Sadie had served most of her patrons, and the few Jamie had encountered were regulars and for the most part a congenial lot. But the festival brought in many new faces. It was a considerably more rowdy and drunken assembly than usual, and for the past hour the atmosphere had grown increasingly tense—a powder keg ready to explode with the least spark to ignite it.
Unsatisfied with Jamie’s offer, the sailor grabbed the tray and set it roughly on the table in front of him.
“Ye’re new aroun’ here, ain’t ye? Sure ye are! Fresh oot o’ the country, I’ll warrant. Ain’t that right, lassie?” He let out a coarse laugh and pinched Jamie’s arm.
Jamie tried to back away.
“I—I got t’ be servin’ these drinks,” she faltered.
“This is a holiday, lass—plenty o’ time fer work later.” He grabbed her by the waist. “Come on, ye pretty yoong thing. The pipes is playin’ us a jig!”
Indeed, as he spoke, the pipes Sadie had hired for the evening had begun a rousing pilbroch and several others had taken up the tune. The sailor crushed Jamie to him and pirated her into the center of the floor where a few were dancing as best they might under the influence of a good deal of Sadie’s darkest ale.
“Please!” Jamie protested. “I got me work t’ do.”
“Aw, Jerry ain’t gonna hurt ye none,” he said, clamping his hands tighter about her squirming body.
He bent over and tried to kiss her, but his hot breath sent awful shivers through Jamie’s spine.
“Please!” Jamie cried, but the pipes were so loud no one noticed her predicament.
“That’s it! Play the hard t’ get, lass. Jerry likes that!”
She could say nothing further, pressed so tightly against the sailor’s offensive chest. He laughed with gusto and pretended to dance, all the while holding Jamie tightly to him. She pushed with all her strength to get away, but every movement brought greater pain. Tears streamed down her face. Not since the blizzard had she felt so helpless! There were so many people so close by, but no one paid her the slightest attention. Even Sadie, her only hope, had disappeared.
“Please!” she sobbed again, but she felt as though her lips were merely mouthing the useless words.
Suddenly Jerry stumbled back and lurched violently away from her. Jamie, too, stumbled backward into the other dancers, not seeing at first what had separated them. Instantly the crowd forgot their dancing in favor of new and far more exciting entertainment. Even the pipes stopped, and all became deathly still as the crowd spread apart to reveal two combatants left in the middle of the floor.
Robbie had been detained on his ship, seeing to the repair of a faulty bulkhead. The job had taken longer than expected because the one shop with the missing part had closed early for the holiday and the proprietor had been located only after a search of several Aberdeen public houses. Robbie had entered The Golden Doubloon only a moment before
Jamie’s last helpless protest. In three strides he had cut a path through the throng and grabbed Jerry’s shoulders to thrust him away from Jamie.
Recovering his initial shock, Jerry turned with a look of fury on his face, and charged at Robbie like the bull of a man he was. Already tipsy, Jerry was hardly a match for Robbie’s still-sober presence. Robbie stepped to one side and threw the charging oaf across a vacant table. His anger roused to fever pitch, Jerry turned with a loud oath and charged again, this time catching his prey between his arms and slamming him to the floor under the weight of his own body. By this time two of Jerry’s shipmates had approached to help give the upstart Taggart the thrashing he deserved for meddling where he didn’t belong. In a fair fight, none of them would have worried about Robbie’s safety, but many of his friends who were present could not sit idly by watching a three-against-one contest. Several sprang to their feet and approached, and before five minutes had past most of the men in the room had joined in the row.
Sadie ran into the very center of the fray, screaming angrily and fearfully for them to stop. She grabbed one after another by the collar trying to pull them away, but she was able to accomplish little, her voice scarcely heard above the din. Jamie looked on helplessly as Sadie ran frantically about trying to keep her place from being wrecked beyond hope. By this time Robbie’s nose was bleeding and Jerry had nasty cuts about one eye which would probably be black before morning. Nor were they the only two from whom the blood flowed.
What the final damage might have been had the fight continued unchecked would be difficult to tell. But in a few moments five constables—put on extra watch throughout the harbor area that night—stormed through the doors. It was not until several deft blows from their nightsticks had been administered that some order returned. Seeing their presence, most of the rousters simply fled before the law could lay hold on them. Jerry and his shipmates were among the first to take to the streets as fast as their wobbly legs would carry them. Robbie and a half-dozen others, however, held their ground.
Jamie MacLeod Page 12
