She saw him through to his room, and in her own bed she prayed that the funeral wouldn’t be too much for him. Her thoughts turned in spite of herself to her mother. She wasn’t as old as Martha, but she had been in a far worse state of health. Was Lou attending to her properly? But it would be Jenny who was looking after her now, for she and Mick must be married by this time.
Tears coursed down Lizann’s cheeks as she remembered all the dear ones she had left behind, the dear ones she had tried so hard to banish from her memory, and when her mind touched on Peter Tait, she had to clap her hand over her mouth to stop her from sobbing aloud. She still loved him, but it was only the pure, simple love for a very close friend, a friend who had been a deep source of comfort to her more than once. If he had been here today … but his wife had put an end to all that; they could never be friends now, even if they ever met again.
She had been happier with Martha and Adam than she’d thought possible after losing George, and now it looked as if it wouldn’t be long till she was homeless and friendless again.
Work at Easter Duncairn went on as usual, the harvesting of the potato crop in October, the ploughing in November, but Dan Fordyce made sure that Adam was given only light jobs. Since Martha’s death, he had been quiet to the point of taciturnity, speaking when spoken to only if an answer was expected, and even then in as few words as he could.
As the winter drew in, Lizann grew more anxious about his health, but she knew that it was no use saying anything. All she could do was to make sure he was well wrapped up when he went out and have warm clothes ready for him when he came in. In the evenings they normally sat in silence, listening only to the news bulletins on the wireless, for Adam did not think it was fitting to be laughing at comedy shows or enjoying the big bands when they were still in mourning.
‘Martha used to like Henry Hall,’ Lizann said, tentatively, one night. ‘She wouldn’t mind us listening to him.’ But Adam shook his head, and she didn’t suggest it again.
Chapter Twenty-three
When she made her Thursday visits to the Yardie, Elsie was always afraid that Hannah might unthinkingly reveal the ‘secret’, but as time passed – with the elderly woman glowering at her for a minute and then ignoring her – she came to the conclusion that it had joined all the other things buried beyond recall in what passed now for Hannah’s brain.
With 1940 wearing to a close, Jenny was well through her eighth month and still in the best of health. Elsie couldn’t understand why some women seemed to bloom when they were carrying, while she’d blown up like a balloon both times. Still, as Lenny Fyfe had told her after Tommy was born, she’d got her figure back real quick. Lenny had the knack of making her feel good, though she still sometimes hungered for a man that would dominate her like she had always secretly yearned to be dominated.
On 20 December, Elsie asked her neighbour to keep an eye on her sons till she went to the Yardie. ‘They’re just a pest wi’ Jenny so near her time,’ she explained. ‘She’s nae due for a few days yet, but she wasna looking great yesterday, and I’m feared it’ll come early.’
Rosie McIntosh smiled. ‘I’ll ken what’s up if you’re nae back, and dinna worry about your bairns. I’ll keep them like we arranged.’
‘Thanks.’ Elsie hurried off gratefully.
‘Yoo-hoo!’ she called, as she opened the Jappys’ door and walked in. ‘It’s just me.’
To her surprise, Hannah said, ‘Thank God you’ve come! I think she’s started.’
Jenny was curled over the sink, her face ashen when she turned round. ‘You’d best get Tibbie, Elsie.’
Elsie nodded, then, looking at the wee mite in his high chair, his eyes round with terror, his thumb in his mouth as a comforter, she said, ‘And I’ll put wee Georgie in to Babsie Berry’s, out of the road.’
Jenny wished that her mother-in-law could also be sent out of the way, but another pain tore at her, and she gave a quick nod before hugging the sink again.
When Elsie returned, she was accompanied by the middle-aged woman who acted as the local midwife. Tibbie Taylor took one look at Jenny, then said, ‘I’ll help you ben to your bed.’
‘It’s Hannah that sleeps ben there,’ Elsie pointed out. ‘Jenny’s bed’s up the stair.’
Another pain beginning, Jenny gasped, ‘I don’t … think I’ll manage … to get up …’
‘I’m nae having a bairn born in my bed!’ Hannah burst out.
‘Nobody’s asking you!’ Elsie snarled.
Her eyes wild, Hannah cried, ‘You … you … it was you! It was you!’ Her words deteriorated into a series of unintelligible grunts, but no one was paying any attention to her.
Past caring where she would go as long as the infant came out, Jenny said, ‘I’ll have to … have it here. You can put … the rubber sheet on … the mat …’
Tibbie scowled. ‘And have me breaking my back bending? I suppose … if you was on the couch …?’
She took a large waterproof apron out of her bag and tied it round her as she waited for the sofa to be made ready, and then Elsie helped Jenny to put on an old nightgown of Hannah’s she had found in the press when she was looking for the rubber sheet.
The confinement under way at last, Hannah – her mind momentarily taken off her previous agitation – directed operations from her ringside seat like a queen from a throne, and after ignoring her for some time Tibbie turned on her angrily. ‘Be at peace, for ony sake, Hannah, or I’ll get Elsie to carry you through to your bed.’
Hannah was having none of this. ‘Lizann’s my lassie, and I’ve to make sure nothing goes wrong!’
‘Lizann?’ Tibbie shouted. ‘Naebody’s seen your Lizann for months. It’s Jenny that’s having the bairn! Mick’s wife!’
Tibbie having brought Lizann’s disappearance back to her mind, and how she had previously been told about it, Hannah tottered to her feet, her outraged face as red as the tartan rug which slid off her knees. Elsie jumped to support her but wasn’t quick enough to stop her landing in a heap on the floor. Unable to lift her, she looked at the midwife in desperation. ‘What’ll we do with her?’
Rattled by all the commotion, Tibbie snapped, ‘Leave her there. She’ll maybe keep her mouth shut now.’
Hannah certainly stopped interfering, but kept saying, ‘It was her! It was her! I mind now!’ Her finger pointed at Elsie for a moment, then her memory left her again, and dropping her hand, she kept up a steady flow of low moans, which, although more disturbing to Jenny and Tibbie, wiped the look of apprehension off Elsie’s face.
After a while, piqued that no one would help her, Hannah whined, ‘I could get my death lying here and naebody cares.’
‘Never heed her,’ Tibbie whispered, and Elsie turned to Jenny as she let out another agonized scream.
At least two of the occupants of the room would never forget the next few hours. Jenny was too intent on forcing the infant out of her womb to hear Hannah’s sporadic accusations, and Hannah herself was no longer aware of what was going on, but at one point Elsie put her hands over her ears and groaned, ‘It’s like a bloody circus in here,’ and Tibbie muttered, ‘I’ve never heard nothing like it.’
At last the sweating midwife gave a triumphant cry. ‘Ha! The head’s crowning,’ and concentrated on guiding the infant out. ‘It’s a girl,’ she announced in a few minutes. She got the slimy, blood-streaked baby crying and then handed her to Elsie. ‘I’ll wash her when I’ve finished wi’ Jenny.’
As Elsie wrapped the infant in a towel, Hannah looked up at her slyly. ‘Lizann …’ she began, and an evil smirk crossed her face as she ended, ‘… and Peter!’
‘Shut up!’ Elsie screamed. ‘It’s a bloody asylum you should be in, you mad old bitch!’
The afterbirth having come off, Jenny lay back weakly and Tibbie took the baby. ‘Get some water ready,’ she told Elsie, ‘and stop carrying on. You’re as bad as the auld wife.’
Elsie went over to the fire and lifted the kettle to fill the basin.
‘You wouldna like her saying your man was taking up wi’ somebody else.’
Tibbie looked surprised. ‘She never said nothing like that to you.’
‘It’s what she meant.’
‘Stop it,’ Jenny pleaded. ‘Her mind’s back to when Lizann was engaged to Peter. That’s all it is.’
‘Lizann and Peter,’ Hannah repeated, grinning vacantly.
Moving towards the sink, Tibbie said, ‘That’s enough, Hannah. Just lie there and be quiet, and once I’ve got the bairnie clean, Elsie and me’ll lift you back on to your seat. You’re ravelled wi’ falling, but you’ll be fine when we get you up off the floor.’
The soft voice soothed Hannah, but she glared at Elsie again as soon as she was returned to her chair. The venom gradually left her eyes, and she lay back and closed them.
When Jenny was changed and settled in her own bed with the baby at her breast, Tibbie went home and Elsie sat down to recover, her thoughts on what Hannah had said … too dangerous for comfort, though she hadn’t come out with anything specific. The old besom was sleeping now, but when she woke up she might remember a lot more. It would have been a blessing if she’d had a seizure in her rage … but maybe that could be arranged yet. All it needed was to goad her into losing her temper, and with any luck it might be the finish of her.
An hour later, as she was taking some dishes out of the dresser, Elsie eyed the old woman coldly. ‘I’m putting you to your bed after your supper.’
Hannah’s brows came down. ‘That’s ower early for me to go to my bed.’
Tossing her bleached head, Elsie said, ‘I’ll go to your bed, then, and you can bide in that chair all night.’
The familiar searching look came into Hannah’s eyes. ‘You’d do it and all. You’re a bad woman, I ken that!’
Elsie pretended she didn’t hear this. ‘When you’re settled, I’ll nip home for some things, seeing I’ll be biding here the night. Rosie Mac said she’d keep Pattie and Tommy for me.’
‘Pattie and Tommy?’
‘My two loons.’ Elsie filled three plates with stew.
‘But Pattie and Tommy’s my grandsons.’
Not wanting the quarrel just yet, Elsie kept her attention on spooning out the potatoes. After taking a tray up to Jenny, she came back to feed Hannah, who took one taste of the meat and screwed up her nose. ‘That’s nae fit for pigs! I couldna eat that!’
‘Please yourself!’ Elsie whipped away the plate and sat at the table to eat hers.
Hannah sat in a brooding silence – shaking her head at the semolina she was offered later – until the table was cleared and the kitchen was tidied again. ‘I’m nae going to my bed!’ she declared then.
‘Aye are you!’ Elsie heaved her up and half carried her to her room. ‘You can maybe get round Jenny, but nae me!’ Dumping her on the bed, she undressed the frail body roughly and yanked the nightgown over her head.
‘I said you was bad,’ Hannah quavered, ‘and now I can mind why!’
‘Shut your mouth or I’ll shut it for you!’
But Hannah’s eyes were no longer wild or vague. ‘It was you that made Lizann run away, wasn’t it? You said she’d been taking up wi’ Peter, and you tell’t her to keep away from him. But I ken she wasna fit to take up wi’ onybody, she wasna that kind ony road, so that was a load of lies you made up.’
Elsie rammed the skinny arm into the old cardigan. ‘Supposing it was, what can you do about it? You’ll never get Lizann back … and neither’ll Peter.’
Hannah looked up at her balefully. ‘I’ll tell Mick what you did.’
‘He’ll nae believe you, everybody kens you’re aff your head!’ Yet, even as she lifted the other arm and twisted it roughly into the second sleeve, Elsie was doubting this. Mick must know that Hannah had short rational spells and, naturally, he would believe what his mother said rather than take an outsider’s word … especially an outsider with an axe to grind. Knowing Mick, the first person he would tell would be Peter, and then … she’d be right in the shit! Peter would throw her out, without her bairns, and she couldn’t go back to her parents. Her father would half-kill her for what she’d done. She’d likely end up on the streets, and though there were some men she wouldn’t mind pleasuring, men who would treat her with respect, she had heard there were perverts who couldn’t get satisfaction unless they were causing pain.
Her entire future at stake, she tried desperately to think of a way to avoid being found out, and as she looked down at the old woman who posed such a threat to her, a strange sense of excitement arose in her. The old bitch was so frail she couldn’t live much longer, but being her, she might hang on just long enough to spill the beans before she popped off – the beans that would destroy Mrs Peter Tait. Yes, Elsie decided, Hannah had signed her own death warrant and there was no point in being squeamish.
Bending down, she lifted the grey head for a moment and gently removed one of the pillows. ‘That’ll help you to get a nice long sleep,’ she murmured, then, waiting until the faded eyes closed, she pressed it down over the nose and mouth, not relaxing until the feeble struggles stopped – in only a matter of seconds.
She stood up now, her breathing rapid and ragged, but it wasn’t long before a cold smile stole across her face. Going upstairs, she went into Jenny’s room. ‘That’s her sleeping like a baby. Rosie’s keeping my two, but I’ll have to go hame for my nightie and things. I’ll nae be long.’
Walking to Main Street, she had misgivings about what she had done. Bella Jeannie’s death hadn’t exactly been her fault, but Hannah’s was … definitely. Would the doctor know she’d been smothered though her face wasn’t blue? She hadn’t put up a fight, for she’d been on the verge of dying anyway … hadn’t she? She was better away! It would be a big relief to Jenny and all.
Having thus dismissed her fears, Elsie went to her neighbour’s house to check on her sons before collecting what she needed from her own, and was back at the Yardie in less than twenty minutes. Undressing in front of the fire, she felt an irresistible urge to make sure everything was as it should be, and slipped through to the other room. Giving a shivery sigh of relief that nothing had changed, she jeered, ‘Aye, Hannah Jappy, you’ll nae be telling Mick or naebody else what I did to your Lizann.’
Chapter Twenty-four
When Mick arrived home the following night – having moved hell and high water to be there in time for the birth of his child, and not knowing that he’d missed it by twenty-four hours – he was surprised to find Elsie Tait by the fire, tired and distressed. His first thought was for his wife. ‘Is anything wrong with Jenny?’
Elsie had passed a traumatic day, pacifying her patient and telling lies to the doctor, who, she had thought at first, seemed suspicious at Hannah dying so suddenly, so her voice was genuinely low and unsteady. ‘She’d a baby girl yesterday, and they’re both fine, but … your mother … died some time last night.’
‘Oh, God!’ His shocked face worked spasmodically, and he was obviously torn between which of the two women he loved to be more concerned about.
‘Go up and see Jenny,’ Elsie murmured, ‘and I’ll tell you about Hannah when you come back.’
Still in a fragile state, Jenny burst into tears as soon as she saw him, and holding her shaking body he said, ‘Don’t upset yourself, my pet. Mother hasn’t been herself for ages, and she’s had her life. We’re just starting ours. Now, let me see my daughter.’
Drawing aside the covers, he looked down at the tiny bundle in the cradle. ‘Oh, she’s a wee darling, Jen. What’ll we call her?’
Hastily drying her eyes, Jenny said softly, ‘I think we’ll have to call her Lizann. That’ll be a George and a Lizann together again, and she said herself that’s what she’d wanted to do.’
Her husband’s face showed his pleasure at her thoughtfulness. ‘Jenny, it’s no wonder I love you.’ His expression sobered. ‘I just wish to God I knew where she is, for she’d be pleased about this. Now, I suppose I’d better go and speak
to Elsie.’
He had never liked Peter’s wife, but he was inclined to feel sorry for her now. ‘You must have got an awful shock this morning,’ he said, when he went downstairs.
‘I haven’t got over it yet, though I should have expected it for your mother was in a terrible state yesterday. You see, Jenny couldn’t manage to get up the stairs when Tibbie came, and Hannah wouldn’t hear of them using her bed, so she saw everything.’
‘What d’you mean, she saw everything?’
‘Jenny had the baby on the couch, and Hannah was screaming things, and she fell on the floor, and I couldn’t get her up …’
‘God Almighty!’ Mick could visualize the scene, with his mother trying to get attention, her peace disrupted, and no one having time to bother with her. Taking out his handkerchief, he wiped his clammy brow. ‘I’m sorry you got the brunt of it, Elsie. I bet you’ll never forget the day my wee Lizann was born.’
He was quite correct in this, and not only because of the circumstances of the birth. Her peculiar expression, however, was anger at learning his daughter’s name, not, as he thought, agreement with what he had said. ‘Will I make you a cup of tea?’ he asked sympathetically.
At her nod he put the kettle on to boil, then went into his mother’s room. She looked so peaceful that he found it hard to believe she was dead, but he was glad that she had passed away in her sleep. She hadn’t had much of a life since his father died, and it was a good thing she hadn’t known about Lizann. That was one heartache she had been spared. Heaving a gusty sigh, he went back to the kitchen.
It was only when Elsie rose to wash the dirty cups that he remembered something. ‘Who’s looking after Pattie and Tommy?’
‘Rosie Mac.’
‘Well, Peter got his leave changed at the last minute as well, so you’d better get home to him. I’m here to look after things, though I wish I’d been here … Oh, before you go, has anything been done about the funeral yet?’
‘No. Jake Berry said he would ask your uncle … Jockie?, but I thought you’d want to do it yourself. I’ll be glad to get to my bed, Mick, for I’m fit to drop, but I’ll be back in the morning to see how Jenny is.’
The Girl with the Creel Page 33
