He stood up and, to his own surprise as well as hers, kissed her on the cheek. ‘Thanks for all you’ve done, Elsie.’
When she went out, he closed the front of the fire and went upstairs, where Jenny said, ‘I’ve been thinking, Mick. I didn’t really take in what was happening yesterday, but I can mind Hannah going on at Elsie, accusing her of something, but she couldn’t get it out. What could it have been?’
‘Nothing, likely. You know how muddled she was, and Elsie said all the commotion made her a lot worse.’
‘She got awful upset,’ Jenny said, thoughtfully. ‘She was pointing at Elsie and shouting, “It was you!”, and when Tibbie told her to be quiet, she said, “Lizann’s my lassie.” ‘
‘She was always thinking you were Lizann,’ Mick said gently.
‘But Tibbie told her nobody had seen Lizann for months.’
‘Oh, no!’ Mick groaned. ‘And I thought she went to her Maker without knowing that.’
‘That was when she fell trying to stand up, and Elsie couldn’t lift her, and Tibbie said to leave her lying. Then after the baby was born she started saying “Lizann and Peter”, and Elsie screamed at her that she should be in an asylum.’ Jenny looked at her husband pathetically. ‘She shouldn’t have said things like that to a poor old woman.’
‘She’d’ve been all on edge.’
‘It’s funny, though. Tibbie said she was as bad as Hannah, the noise she was making, and Elsie said, “How would you like it if she said your man was taking up with somebody else?” It was like she thought something had been going on between Lizann and Peter.’
Mick’s face screwed up. ‘I know she was jealous when Peter went to see Lizann after George was lost …’ He stopped, recalling how he had found his sister in Peter’s arms that morning, then shook his head vehemently. ‘No, no! There was nothing going on, I’m sure of that.’
Nonetheless, he couldn’t help wondering as he got into bed if Elsie had been right. Had Lizann been carrying on with Peter? Had she run away because she felt guilty about him being unfaithful to his wife? It was a more reasonable explanation than Jenny’s remark, and he knew Peter had always loved Lizann, but still … No, he couldn’t believe it.
He was almost asleep when he thought of a different angle. Had Elsie in her jealousy gone to Lizann and accused her of having an affair with Peter? It couldn’t have been true, but his sister wasn’t strong enough at the time to cope with anything like that … she would have wanted to get away from it. That was why she’d left Buckie! It must be! She’d had nobody to confide in, with Mother stuck in the house, and Jenny and Lou both too busy to visit her. The agony she must have gone through!
His peace totally ruined, he decided to confront Elsie in the morning … then he remembered how much she had done for Jenny. He was grateful to her for that, and with no proof of what he thought it would be best to say nothing. Anyway, he was probably wrong.
* * *
When Peter arrived home he was astonished that nobody was in the house, and sat down at the fireside to wait for his family’s return. Noticing that the fire hadn’t been lit, he presumed that Elsie had taken the boys to visit their grandparents. She hadn’t been expecting him home for at least another month, of course.
After ten minutes, he felt quite chilly, and contemplated lighting the fire in the parlour so that it would be warm when he went through to the couch. Then, realizing that it was just after seven o’clock and it could be two or three hours before Elsie came back, a better idea came to him. Why shouldn’t he have a lie down upstairs? He would shift out when Elsie was getting the boys to bed.
Just taking off his blouse and trousers, he stretched out on the big double bed, absolute heaven after the hard bunk he was used to … when he had the chance to go to it. Still feeling cold, he shifted himself until he was under the blankets, and then he heard a key in the outside door. Propping himself up on one elbow ready to call to his sons when they came upstairs, he frowned when only Elsie appeared. ‘Where the hell have you been?’ he asked angrily. ‘And where’s the boys?’
‘They’re with Rosie,’ she sighed, opening the waistband of her skirt with trembling fingers, for she was too tired to quarrel with him. ‘I’ve been at the Yardie. Jenny had her baby yesterday, and Hannah’s dead, and I just got away because Mick’s home, so don’t start going on at me.’
His mouth had dropped open, but she looked so worn out that he felt a warmth for her in his pity. ‘I’m sorry.’ Watching her undressing, he said, ‘How did Hannah die?’
‘The stir must have been too much for her. She got in an awful state, and I’d a job getting her to her bed. But she was sound asleep when I left her, so I near passed out when I found her dead this morning.’
‘She died in her sleep? Oh well, it’s the best way to go.’
‘I suppose so.’ Elsie unfastened her brassiere and took it off, but not with the usual flourish and lifting of her breasts, which, if she had but known, had disgusted rather than titillated her husband since the night of Lou Flett’s funeral.
But it was this lack of awareness of her body that titillated him now, and as she slipped on her skimpy nightgown and lay down beside him, he became fully aroused. His arms went round her, and she turned to him with a sob in her throat. ‘It’s been awful.’
‘It must have been,’ he muttered thickly, gripping her buttocks. He could feel her nipples hardening against him, and soon she was moving her pelvis in the old familiar way. ‘Oh, Peter,’ she murmured happily, ‘I never thought you’d do this again.’
Neither had he, and he despised himself for it.
In the morning, when her hand crept round to try to rouse him again, he pushed it away and growled, ‘No, Elsie. Last night was a mistake. I shouldn’t have touched you … I didn’t want to …’
Her momentary scowl changed as she leaned over the bed until her breasts were dangling in front of his face. ‘Take a hold of them, Peter, and then tell me you don’t want me.’
The masses of soft flesh did not have the effect she wanted. Turning his head away, he snarled, ‘Get up and cover yourself!’
Jumping back, she cried, ‘Mick likely thinks his mother didna ken Lizann had ran away, but I tell’t her at the time – the day after he came here asking if you’d seen her. That was what Hannah was trying to mind when Tibbie was there yesterday, and she kept pointing at me and saying, “It was you! It was you!”, but she couldna tell onybody what I’d done.’
Satisfied by his thunderstruck expression, she sneered, ‘That took the feet from you, but it was time Hannah ken’t her precious daughter didna care a damn about her. She aye went on about how good Lizann was, but it was Jenny that looked after her.’
‘You’re a din-raising bitch!’ Peter yelled. ‘I told you Mick didn’t want Hannah to know, and that was a helluva thing to do to her.’
‘She’s made Jenny’s life a misery.’
‘Jenny never complained.’
‘Jenny’s a fool!’
‘Jenny’s a damned fine girl! An angel!’
Elsie looked at him suspiciously. ‘Have you got your eye on her now?’
‘Don’t be bloody stupid! Lizann wouldn’t have gone away if something hadn’t made her … or somebody! I’m positive it wasn’t what Jenny said. Poor Lizann, she …’
For one brief moment, Elsie had almost confessed that she was the somebody who had made Lizann leave so suddenly, but Peter’s concern for the girl made her interrupt him. ‘Poor Lizann my backside! She ken’t fine what she was doing! Making on she was broken-hearted at losing George Buchan and getting you to comfort her. Comfort her? If that was comfort, you gi’ed me a right dose o’ it last night! You put another bairn in my belly, I’m sure o’ that.’
This consequence of his ardour had escaped him, and he slumped back heavily on the bed, while his wife stood, hands on hips, gloating at his distress. Then she said, hopefully, ‘You’ll not say anything to Mick about me telling Hannah Lizann was away?’
He looked up at her, wondering why he had never tumbled to her sheer maliciousness before. In spite of what she had done, all she was worried about was saving her own skin. ‘I’ll not tell him, but for his sake, not yours – he’ll be feeling bad enough about her dying. For God’s sake, get out of my sight!’
When she flounced out, clothes in her hand, he lay back against the pillows. What kind of man was he to let her off so lightly? He should march her to the Yardie, tell Mick and let him do what he liked to her. She was poison … but she was the mother of his two sons, and, God help him, maybe a third. Yet if Lizann ever did turn up again, he’d gladly leave them all to be with her.
Mick and Peter were restrained with each other when they walked together to the station at the end of their leave, Mick afraid to mention Elsie in case he let slip what he thought she had done, and Peter because he thought he knew what she had done. He did have the feeling that she had kept something back, but he hadn’t even the slightest suspicion that her misdeeds had culminated in committing the ultimate crime … murder!
By the time they were going aboard ship again, they had relaxed into their old friendship, and in just over a month, Peter said sheepishly, ‘Elsie’s expecting again.’
Without thinking, Mick said, ‘I thought you said you weren’t getting on with each other. Are you sure it’s yours?’
Peter hung his head. ‘It’s mine, right enough.’
‘There’s no need to be ashamed of knocking your wife up,’ Mick said, a little stiffly. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’
Peter hesitated, then, because Elsie’s confession had been preying on his mind and he wanted to get it off his chest, however angry Mick would be, he said, ‘I’ve something to tell you, but not here. I’d better wait till we dock somewhere.’
The landing did not come for another three weeks, however, by which time he regretted saying anything; so when they were seated in a bar in Portsmouth and Mick asked what he’d been going to tell him, he laughed it off. ‘Och, it was nothing. Elsie and me had a right set-to after I’d … you don’t want to hear about it. Like I told you before, you’re lucky having a wife like Jenny.’
When Elsie told him that she was expecting again, Lenny Fyfe muttered plaintively, ‘I thought you said you never let your man touch you now.’
‘It was only once,’ she reassured him. ‘The night after Jenny Jappy had her baby and old Hannah died. When he started pawing at me, I was ower tired to fight him, and to tell the truth, it made me feel better.’ His sulky face warned her to be careful. ‘He’ll not get near me again, though, I’m making him sleep on the parlour couch. Ach, Lenny, you’re nae jealous, are you? I’ve told you dozens of times you’re best.’
He had perked up at that, and since then, after every time they made love, he boasted, ‘Peter didna thrill you like that, did he?’
Peter had thrilled her, Elsie reflected later, but just when he felt like it, and Lenny wasn’t too bad. He swore he never went out with girls his own age, and she believed him when he said he loved her. She was quite fond of him, though she wished he wasn’t so gentle. He treated her like a piece of bone china, when she wanted to be roughed up, to be mastered. He wasn’t twenty yet, of course, and he was a lot better than he’d been at first, so maybe he’d get more forceful as he grew older. But she’d only a few months to enjoy him before they’d have to stop … till after this baby was born.
The doubt she had tried to stifle for weeks raised its ugly head once more. Was it Lenny’s child she was carrying? Peter was blond, and her bleached hair was naturally fairish, so how would she explain if the infant she produced had dark hair and sallow skin like Lenny? What a tongue-wagging that would cause in Buckpool!
Elsie’s resentment that her husband had only made love to her once since he joined up was being replaced by anger that he hadn’t taken any precautions at the time. They got issued with French letters in the forces, so she’d heard, and they didn’t need to use them when they were away, for they got stuff in their tea to stop them getting horny. He must have had a stock of them, and he’d been in her bed waiting for her, so he must have meant to give her a bairn. The bugger!
Because their corvette had been scheduled for a refit in the middle of March, the roster for leave had been on display in plenty of time for the men to let their wives or mothers know when to expect them. Peter was pleased to see that Mick would be travelling home with him again. It was a mighty long journey when you made it on your own.
On the train, their conversation was kept mainly to discussing the reports on how London had stood up to the blitz, which was still going on to a certain extent, and to the various other towns and cities which had had more than their share of attention from German bombers. After a few hours, however, they fell silent and dozed off. They’d had hardly any sleep for the past two weeks because of enemy activity around them, and it was good to be able to lie back and relax.
When they changed trains at Aberdeen there was an air raid warning in force, but a porter told them that the Jerries had been and gone. They had quite a wait for their connection, which was a slow train, stopping at almost every station on the way, but at last they were swinging their heavy kitbags on their shoulders and walking towards their homes.
Coming to the Yardie, Mick said, ‘Would you like to see my daughter, Peter? She’s a real smasher!’
In no hurry to go home, Peter went in with him to find Jenny feeding the infant by the fire. Her face colouring, she pulled her cardigan over her exposed breast, but he couldn’t help thinking what a lovely picture of motherhood she made. ‘I’m sorry to butt in,’ he told her, ‘but Mick wanted me to see the baby.’
‘It’s all right,’ she murmured. ‘She’ll be finished in a minute.’
‘Peter says Elsie’s expecting again,’ Mick observed.
A little miffed that her friend hadn’t told her this, Jenny still smiled. ‘Oh, that’s good. Congratulations, Peter.’
Having noticed the odd glance she gave Mick before she spoke, Peter guessed that she suspected how things were between him and his wife. ‘It was a mistake,’ he admitted. ‘We haven’t slept as man and wife for ages, and we’ll not be doing it again.’
Thoroughly embarrassed by his bluntness, Jenny murmured, ‘I don’t know what to say, Peter.’
‘There’s nothing you can say. Some marriages work out, mine didn’t.’
‘Can you not try to make a go of it … for the boys?’
‘They’re the only reason I didn’t walk out on her. I know now I should never have married her.’
‘Why did you?’ Jenny turned scarlet at asking so personal a question. ‘I’m sorry, Peter, it’s none of my business. I’ve always got on with her, and I couldn’t have done without her when wee Lizann was born.’
His heart cramping at the beloved name, he said, ‘I suppose she’s got her good points. She’s been a good mother, but she’s …’ Breaking off, he looked at Jenny uncomfortably. ‘I can’t burden you with my troubles, you’ve had enough of your own, with Hannah dying and …’
‘Hannah couldn’t get it out of her head that you and Lizann were still engaged. Even the night she died, she was shouting, “Lizann and Peter, Lizann and Peter.” ‘ Jenny, too, broke off, dismayed by how close she had come to revealing the accusation directed at his wife.
‘That was part of the row we had,’ Peter said wryly. ‘Elsie was always jealous of Lizann. I’d better go, though, and let you folk get to bed.’
Striding along Main Street, Peter wished that he had the guts to leave Elsie altogether. The only thing was, he would miss his sons … and there was another baby on the way, damn it. Still, if she was already pregnant it would be all right to sleep with her, in the biblical sense, for he couldn’t do any more harm and he needed some release.
The boys were sleeping when he went up to them, looking like angels though he knew they could be devils when they liked. Not that they were badly behaved, he thought with a smile, just boys being boys. His smile faded
when he went into the other bedroom and saw Elsie’s sour face.
‘You’re awful late,’ she snapped. ‘Where’ve you been?’
‘We were late getting to Buckie, and Mick wanted me to see his baby.’
She lifted her head and frowned at him. ‘Did they tell you they called her after your fancy piece? But you’ll soon have a new bairn of your own to look at, and you can’t blame me for it this time.’
It occurred to him that he might not be to blame for it, either. For all he knew it could be some other man’s, for Elsie wasn’t the kind to sit at home like a nun when he was away. His inside twisting in disgust, he knew he couldn’t face lying down beside her, tonight or any other night. ‘I’ll get a couple of blankets out of the press. I’m going to sleep on the couch in the parlour from now on.’
‘Suits me! You’re a waste of time, any road.’ She snuggled down and pulled the bedcovers up round her head as he went out.
Downstairs, a wave of anger beset him. She was making out it was his fault their marriage was a failure, when he’d done all he could in the early stages to make it work. If only he had met a decent girl after Lizann broke their engagement, things would have been different.
Chapter Twenty-five
There had been some snow in January, but February brought much heavier storms, and when Adam came home one night, tired and blue with the cold, Lizann wondered how much longer he could stand up to it. Handing him the fresh clothes she had been heating for him, she said, ‘Change into them at the fireside. I’ll turn my back.’
She began to dish up the supper, but in a few minutes he said, ‘My fingers are that stiff, I can’t fasten my spaver.’
When she turned round and saw how pathetic he looked, she went across to him. ‘I’m sorry,’ he shivered, ‘I shouldn’t expect you to …’
‘It’s all right,’ she smiled, ‘I don’t mind.’
The Girl with the Creel Page 34
