‘Oh, aye, I forgot. But you wasna long in putting a real bairn inside me, was you? And starting Tommy just weeks after Pattie was born.’
Wanting to hurt her now, he yelled, ‘What did you expect, the way you sat about with everything you had on show?’
She smirked now. ‘That was the way to get you going, wasn’t it? One look at my paps and your tongue was hanging out.’
‘That’s disgusting!’
‘It’s true, though. I could twist you round my little finger any time I want, nae like your prim fancy woman.’
Peter’s face flamed with guilty shame. Elsie could set him ablaze with an animal lust, no matter what he thought of her as a woman. She was an addiction, while what he had always felt for Lizann was reverent love.
‘That made you think,’ she crowed now. ‘I’m right, amn’t I?’
‘Aye, you’re right,’ he sighed. ‘You’re like a drug I can’t give up.’
In the evening Jenny sat down again by the bedside and, thinking that Lizann looked slightly brighter, she said, ‘I believe you’d Peter Tait seeing you this morning?’
‘Peter’s another good friend.’
‘More than a friend at one time? You got engaged to him.’
‘That was … before George came back to me.’
Lizann’s lips had started to quiver, so Jenny changed the subject. ‘I meant to ask you before, where do you keep your spare blankets?’
Lizann looked surprised. ‘What d’you want blankets for?’
‘I’m going to make a bed on the two easy chairs in the kitchen.’
‘There’s no need for that, you can sleep with me.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Quite sure.’
When Jenny finally went to bed, she was so tired that she fell asleep almost at once, and Lizann lay wide awake beside her, thinking about George and the plans they had made for the baby. Then she recalled her premonition on the day her mother had looked so queer. She had been sure that something awful was going to happen, but she hadn’t foreseen this double tragedy, husband and child both gone. Not wanting to disturb Jenny by giving way to her grief again, she bit on her bottom lip, but the tears still edged out and rolled down her cheeks.
She would never see George again. There would be no more love-making, no more babies. It was goodbye to the family she had planned to start, goodbye to all her dreams.
She was too distraught to realize that without a husband, there would be no money coming into the house, either. That worry was still to come.
Chapter Sixteen
Heck Lindsay appeared the following day, and although Lizann was not really up to receiving visitors, Jenny showed him into the bedroom in case he had something important to say. A short, stout, florid man, George’s skipper stood at the foot of the bed twirling his flat cap in his hands.
‘I’m devilish sorry, Missus Buchan, it was a terrible thing to happen, and the other lassie said you lost the baby, and all. I ken it doesna help, like, but for what it’s worth, you’ve my deepest sympathy, for he was a fine man. I wouldna intrude on you, but … well, George would have been due …’ He paused before ending uncomfortably, ‘The thing is, I didna even cover my expenses this trip seeing we’d to turn back so early …’
Having told the widow a deliberate lie – they had come back because the catch was so poor – his lined, weather-beaten face took on a redder tinge. Then, clearing his throat as well as his embarrassment, he went on, ‘I thought you’d be needing some cash, so here’s something, for … compensation, like.’ He laid an envelope down on the bed. ‘What would you like done wi’ his seabag?’
Unable to speak, Lizann shook her head helplessly, and it was Jenny who said decisively, ‘Give it to Mick. She’ll maybe want to keep some of George’s things.’
‘Aye, of course. Well, I’ll be on my way, Missus Buchan, and I hope you’ll soon be up and about again.’
When her brother brought the seabag to her, Lizann told him to keep it and everything in it. ‘You may as well get the good of his seaboots and oilskins and …’
‘There’s only a shirt and ganzy, and his spare set of underclothes,’ Mick mumbled. ‘He was wearing the rest when he …’ His face scarlet, he broke off.
Frowning at him, Jenny said, ‘Take it away, you’ve upset her.’
Lizann withdrew into her own dark world now, and for the next two days she hardly spoke to Jenny, pretending to be asleep when she heard her brother or her aunt coming in.
‘Poor soul,’ Lou sighed to Jenny, ‘but maybe sleep’s the best thing for her.’
‘I’m worried about her,’ Jenny confided. ‘She hasn’t eaten anything, yesterday or today.’
‘Dinna force her. She’ll eat when she feels like it.’
It didn’t seem right to Jenny to let anyone keep refusing food. She said nothing when her patient left her breakfast untouched, but she couldn’t hold her tongue at dinner-time. ‘You’ll never get your strength back if you carry on like this,’ she scolded gently, when Lizann shook her head. ‘Come on, try some of this lentil soup, it’ll do you good.’
Lizann picked up the spoon listlessly, but after a few mouthfuls, she set it down again, her lips pursed. Wondering if she should coax her appetite with invalid foods, Jenny made scrambled eggs for supper, and was about to take through the tray when someone knocked at the door.
It was Peter Tait. ‘I’m not coming in,’ he said. ‘I just wanted to know how Lizann is now.’
‘She’s not eating,’ Jenny told him, sadly, then inspiration hit her. ‘Would you take this through to her? She might eat it for you.’
Love for Lizann almost shoked him when he saw that she looked even worse than on the morning she’d been sobbing in his arms, but he managed to joke. ‘It’s the waiter, Lizann, and the chef’ll sack me if you don’t eat every mouthful.’
A ghost of a smile touched her lips. ‘Oh, Peter.’ It was all she said, but he was sure he could detect a fondness in her voice.
He stood over her until the plate was empty then moved the tray to the chest of drawers and sat down on the bed. Taking her hand, he said, ‘I don’t like to see you so down, my dear. You’re not the Lizann we knew, so will you please try to come back to us? Please, for me?’ The pressure of her fingers encouraged him. ‘I know you’re suffering, and you likely think you’ll never get over this, but George wouldn’t want you to give up. You’re young, you’re a lovely girl …’
Her eyes clouded, and he said quickly, ‘I’m speaking as your friend, Lizann, but I’d better go. My wife’ll be wondering why I’m late. You’ll remember what I said, now?’
She nodded weakly and when he stood up, she murmured, ‘Thanks, Peter, it was good of you to come.’
Jenny was delighted to see the empty plate when he took back the tray. ‘You’ve fairly done the trick, Peter. You should be here all the time.’
Wishing that were possible, he smiled and took his leave, but on his way home he wondered if Jenny knew how he felt about Lizann … but she wouldn’t have made that last remark if she did. He had wanted to tell Lizann herself that he still loved her, and it was only her unease when he said she was a lovely girl that had stopped him. It was also why he had mentioned his wife.
As he had expected, Elsie was angry when he went in. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ she demanded. ‘Your supper’s been ready for the past hour.’
‘I’m just half an hour late,’ he said, calmly. ‘I went to see Lizann.’
‘Again? You know I don’t like you going there.’
‘I’m glad I went, for she hadn’t been eating. Jenny asked me to take through her supper.’
‘I suppose she ate it for you.’
‘She did, and not before time – she’s just skin and bone.’
‘You’d surely had your arms round her again to know that?’
Peter looked at her with distaste. Her face was plumper than when he first knew her, and after two children her waist had thickened. Not that either
of that would have mattered if he loved her, but he didn’t. He never had! ‘No, Elsie,’ he said, ‘I didn’t have my arms round her, much as I wanted to.’ Her gasp gave him a small degree of pleasure.
Furious inside, Elsie tried to laugh it off. ‘So you can keep your hands off her, but I bet you can’t keep your hands off me.’ She came forward now, her breasts swelling almost out of the low-cut nightdress she always wore for him, and with her dark-ringed nipples so close to him, he groaned hopelessly. ‘No, you bitch! I can’t.’ He pulled her into his arms and thrust himself against her as she laughed in his face.
When Jenny had finished tidying up she went into the bedroom. ‘How do you feel now?’ she asked, solicitously.
‘Like a washed-out clout,’ Lizann sighed.
‘Did Peter tire you?’
‘A wee bit.’
‘It’ll take you a while to get over things.’
‘I’ll never get over them.’
‘Aye will you, it just takes time.’
‘I’ve plenty of that, then,’ Lizann muttered despondently.
Next day she felt the desperate need to talk. ‘If only I’d had George longer, it wouldn’t be so bad. I thought we’d grow old together and have sons and daughters to look after us, and now … I can understand why my mother turned funny after Father …’
‘You’re made of different stuff from Hannah,’ Jenny declared. ‘She depended on Willie Alec for everything, but you’ve always had a mind of your own. You had to fight to marry George, and then you were tied down seeing to her.’
‘George and me were never free to enjoy our marriage,’ Lizann agreed. ‘I used to wish she was dead, sometimes, so we could do what we liked. You’ll be thinking I’m terrible, saying that, but I couldn’t help it. I pictured us going for walks with our children, a wee George and another Lizann, watching them growing up …’ Her voice broke.
‘Don’t upset yourself, Lizann. It’s better not to think on what might have been and concentrate on what’s going to be.’ Jenny stopped and gave a little smile. ‘Ach, I sound like one of yon old wives.’
‘No, you’re a true friend, Jenny,’ Lizann said, earnestly. ‘And it’s true, I can’t turn the clock back.’
Noticing the increasing pallor in her cheeks, Jenny stood up. ‘I’ve made you speak too much.’
The following morning Lizann said she felt like getting up, and so, relieved that she was improving, Jenny let her sit in the kitchen for half an hour, but the recovery did not last. She was moody all the next day, and wouldn’t move when Jenny told her she should try being up for a little longer.
Determined not to let her relapse, Jenny sat down by her bed after supper. ‘Lizann,’ she began firmly, ‘I think the time’s come for a bit of straight talking. The longer you lie in that bed, the worse you’ll get, till you’ll be like your mother, with legs that weak you’ll not be able to walk at all.’ Noticing that Lizann’s eyes had filled with tears of self-pity, she hardened her heart and continued, ‘I’m telling you for your own good, so you’ll dress yourself tomorrow and come through for your breakfast, and if you feel tired you can have a rest in the afternoon. You’re not an invalid now.’
The ‘straight talking’ worked; in another week Lizann was staying up all day and, although she was rather shaky on her legs and exhausted by bedtime, she had her mind set on being left on her own. ‘I’ll manage to look after myself,’ she told Jenny, ‘so you’d better go back to your own house. It must be inches thick with dust by this time.’
Not very happy about it, Jenny went home to Main Street, but asked Lou Flett to call in on Lizann every night on the pretext of reporting on Hannah, as she had done while mother and daughter were estranged.
On her first day alone, Lizann was still in bed when she heard someone knocking on the outside door and walking straight in. Supposing it was Jenny come to check on her, she wished she’d remembered to turn the key in the lock the night before, and turned round to defend herself for not being up at half past nine. But it wasn’t her ex-nurse/housekeeper.
‘Mrs Buchan!’ she gasped, her already white face blanching even more, her hand flying to her mouth in guilt, for she hadn’t given George’s mother a single thought.
‘Aye,’ the woman said grimly. ‘It’s a good thing I’ve got friends, or I wouldna have ken’t my son was lost.’
‘Oh, I’m sorry, but I …’
‘I’d have thought it was the first thing you’d have done, but … ach, I ken’t the minute I set eyes on you, you was bad luck. Well, are you to be lying there a’ day, or will I have to make myself a cup o’ tea?’
So distressed that she hardly knew what she was doing, Lizann threw back the bedcovers and swung her feet to the floor, and it was only when she saw the expression on her mother-in-law’s face that she remembered how transparent her well-worn nightdress was. Along with that awful thought came the realization that she didn’t have a coat to cover it. ‘Oh, Mrs Buchan,’ she wailed, unable to call her anything else, ‘I don’t know what you must think, but I …’
‘I’ll tell you what I think,’ Ina Buchan sneered. ‘If I’d ever wore a goon like that, my man woulda thought I was a whore. He wouldna have had nothing to do wi’ me, but the young men nowadays are different, and I can see how you trapped George into leaving his wife.’
Too weak to deny the accusation, Lizann lifted her skirt off the chair and stepped into it, wondering if her legs would take her through to the kitchen, and if she’d have the strength to light the fire if they did. Ina handed her her blouse. ‘Here, cover your breists, and all!’ she ordered, then her obvious repugnance was replaced by perplexity as her brain registered what her eyes had seen. ‘The last time George came to see me, he said you was expectin’. Did you get rid o’ it, or what?’
An unexpected and totally uncharacteristic wave of anger swept through Lizann. How dare this woman speak to her like that? ‘I lost the baby when I heard about George,’ she said quietly, with all the dignity she could muster.
This did knock Ina Buchan out of her stride. ‘Oh … oh … well,’ she stammered, ‘I’m sorry about that.’
‘And I’m sorry you’ve lost your son,’ Lizann went on. ‘I should have asked my brother to tell you, but I was in such a state …’ She paused to regain control of herself. ‘I did love George, you know, with all my heart, and I don’t think I’ll ever get over losing him.’
‘I lost my man to the sea, and all,’ Ina said, ruminatively, ‘but I never thought I’d lose George the same road.’ Her hand shot out to steady Lizann, who had taken a shaky step forward. ‘Look, I’d better leave you. You’re ower upset, and … so am I. You likely think I’m nae grieving like I should, but I grat for near two whole days after I heard, though I kept thinking it couldna be George that had gone overboard, for you’d surely have had the decency to …’ Her voice hardened again. ‘Then I made up my mind to come and tell you what I thought of you. You never come wi’ George the few times he visited me … oh, I ken he said you’d to look after your mother, but surely you coulda …?’
Recognizing that nothing she said would change her mother-in-law’s opinion of her, Lizann chose to ignore this last complaint. ‘I think you’d be as well leaving, Mrs Buchan,’ she said firmly. ‘Thank you for coming, but there’s no point in us seeing each other again, for we’ve nothing in common now.’
Clearly not accustomed to being brushed off by anyone, Ina glowered at her. ‘Some women get decent daughter-in-laws,’ she muttered, ‘but I havena been so lucky, though my son had two wives. Katie uptailed and left Cullen, and you …’ Clicking her tongue in offended exasperation, she swept across the kitchen and stalked out.
It took several seconds for the reaction to set in. When it did, Lizann collapsed back on her bed, hot tears scalding her cheeks, her throat closing in sorrow and self-pity, and it was over half an hour before she resolved to tell nobody that George’s mother had been there and to forget the horrible things the woman had said.
‘I canna believe it,’ Lou remarked to her niece, some evenings later. ‘It’s like there was never nothing wrong wi’ your ma, and her mind’s a lot clearer than mine, for I’d forget where my head was if it wasna fixed on.’ Lizann giving a wan smile, Lou went on, ‘You’re still looking peaky, are you sure you’re eating enough?’
‘Yes, Mary Droppie next door gets butcher meat for me, and anything else I need.’ The old woman’s nickname had been bestowed on her years before for her habit of saying, ‘I think we’ll get a droppie rain,’ which sometimes changed to, ‘I’m sure we’re in for a droppie snow,’ or, as Lizann had lately found out, ‘Will I get a droppie mince for you?’
Lou smiled. ‘I’ll nae need to worry about you, then.’
With a cheery wave she walked away, and Lizann closed the door and went inside. If Lou only knew how things really were, she thought. She was having to watch every penny she spent. The ‘compensation’ Heck Lindsay had handed over was nearly all gone already, and what would she do when there was nothing left … and nothing coming in? Maybe it was just as well the baby hadn’t lived, for how could she have bought clothes for it? Or a pram?
Her throat tightened with remorse as she was struck by something else. She’d blamed George’s death for making her lose the baby, but it must have been dead before. That was why she had felt no movements. George had pleaded with her to stop doing so much and she hadn’t listened to him. She had gone on cleaning the two houses, climbing up on chairs to scrub high shelves, going down on her knees to polish floors … it was all her fault! But she hadn’t wanted to harm the child – she had felt so well she hadn’t thought that what she was doing could be bad for it. If she hadn’t been so headstrong, she would have a son to compensate for her husband. She would have managed somehow. She would have worked for fingers to the bone for him.
She shook her head. She wasn’t fit to look after herself, let alone a baby. She was still weaker, physically and mentally, than she cared to admit, though she’d made Jenny go home. And Mary Droppie kept telling her she wasn’t eating enough to keep a mouse going, but she couldn’t afford to buy any more. If she was stronger she could take a job, but the only job she’d ever had was gutting fish in Yarmouth, which was how she’d met George. Maybe some folk would say she should be thankful to have been his wife for almost three years, but it wasn’t nearly long enough. Could this be God’s way of punishing them for what they had done there? Putting her hands to her face and making no attempt to control herself, she wept bitter tears for all the years they should have had together.
The Girl with the Creel Page 23
