‘Do you think there’ll be trouble for me?’ asked Kitty.
‘It’s as well to expect it. Folk like Liddle dinna change,’ was Effie’s reply.
Work finished on Falconwood that night at seven o’clock and because it was still light, Kitty decided to risk her grandmother’s wrath and go back to Townhead to see her mother. There was no one in the farmyard when she got there and she tiptoed quietly over to the dairy door to see who was working there, for she could hear the banging of crocks coming from inside. Wee Lily, sleeves rolled up, was working alone, skimming the cream off the morning milk.
‘Mam,’ she called softly through the dairy window. ‘Mam, it’s me.’
Wee Lily whirled round and her face lit up with joy. ‘Oh, bairn, come in so’s she doesnae see you,’ she whispered.
‘Where is she?’ whispered Kitty looking round.
‘She’s gone to Rosewell to fix up the wedding.’
‘Your wedding?’ asked Kitty and Wee Lily nodded miserably.
‘Aye.’
‘When is it?’
‘I dinna ken.’ Kitty saw that her mother’s face was quivering and desisted from more questions which would only upset her. There was obviously nothing to be done. Wee Lily wasn’t capable of taking a stand against her mother and it was a miracle that she’d fought back enough when her child was born to be allowed to keep it. The girl put an arm round Wee Lily’s waist and said, ‘Don’t you worry, Mam. When I’m big enough I’ll take you to live with me. I’ve got to get back now but send a message to me by one of the wee laddies from the village when you’re to be married and I’ll try to be there. Don’t forget.’
Wee Lily nodded. ‘I’ll no’ forget. I’ll send you a message. I dinna want to marry Jake.’
‘I know, I know,’ whispered Kitty hugging her again. ‘But don’t worry. You’re bigger than him. If he gives you any trouble just knock him down.
Wee Lily gave her childish laugh, throwing back her head, ‘Aye that’s right. I’ll knock him doon…’
When she left her mother, Kitty ran across the road to Tibbie’s cottage and tapped on the back door. Marie answered and smiled. ‘I was wondering what had happened to you. I haven’t seen you for days.
‘I came to say I’ve been sent away.’
‘Where to?’
‘Falconwood.’
Marie laughed. ‘Falconwood! But that’s just over there. I can see the roof of the big house up among the trees.’
Kitty eyed her bleakly. ‘I’m at Falconwood farm. It’s behind the house, farther down the valley.’
‘But not far, not any farther than a mile. You’ll be able to come home every day if you want to.’
‘My granny won’t let me. She’s turned me out. She says my mither’s got to marry Jake so’s she can have more bairns.’
Tibbie appeared at Marie’s shoulder and both of them looked shocked. ‘Your mother’s getting married to Jake?’ asked Tibbie in disbelief. She was going to say he was a halfwit but thought that might not be too tactful.
Kitty nodded fiercely. ‘She doesnae want to marry him but my granny’s fixed it up. She needs another hand on the place and she’s taking Jake instead o’ me.’
Tibbie shook her head slowly. ‘It’s maybe not a bad thing for you to get away, Kitty…’
The girl nodded. ‘I know, but she’s bound me to work for Tom Liddle.’
Tibbie’s face revealed that she knew the stories about Liddle. ‘That wasnae very sensible of her,’ she conceded.
‘She did it for spite,’ said Kitty.
Two days later she was working with MacPhee and the other women when an urchin from Camptounfoot came running over the field shouting, ‘Yer ma’s gettin’ merrit in Rosewell this mornin’. She sent me to tell you.’
Kitty looked at MacPhee with a silent plea in her eyes, so the tall woman nodded and said in a kindly tone, ‘Awa’ ye go. But dinna stay all day.’
She ran all the way to Rosewell Abbey, part of which served as a parish church for Rosewell and Camptounfoot. This church was in a walled-off section of the ruined nave, which was makeshift and dingy. The whitewashed walls were streaked with green mould and damp but there was one beautiful stained-glass window high in the wall overlooking the burial ground. A strong smell of rot and decay pervaded the whole place and it was hard to believe that this had once been a magnificent medieval building where God was worshipped with pomp and great richness.
A few traces of past glory still remained for those who cared to look. Delicate sandstone arches soared overhead, branching up and knotting together in sculpted roses. At the tops of the supporting pillars were elaborately carved finials of flowers and fruit, musicians, angels, devils, even a pig playing the bagpipes. These carvings were darkened by hundreds of years of soot and smoke from the candles used to light the cavernous interior.
It started to rain as Kitty ran through the fields and a steady drip, drip, drip of water could be heard running off the broken arches that rose on each side of the approach to the door when she reached her destination.
There were only three people and the minister inside the church. Wee Lily, face blotched and lips trembling, did not look round when Kitty burst in. The minister was not bothering to hide the fact that his mind was on his midday meal which awaited him in the manse standing on the edge of the burying-ground. He had little sympathy with the poorest and least-educated of his parishioners and took little trouble when ministering to them.
As he asked them their names, he was planning to attend a meeting of the richest and most influential parishioners to discuss raising funds for the construction of a new parish church in a different site on the other side of the town. For Rosewell was growing rich and he wished it to worship its God in more salubrious surroundings than the broken-down ruins of the abbey.
The couple in front of him looked far from inspiring. Jake was trying to pretend that he understood what was being said… ‘Procreation of children… cleaving unto no other… you may now kiss the bride,’ gabbled the minister with his eyes raised to the church ceiling. The last bit was the only part of the service that was not completely incomprehensible to the participants and when the word ‘kiss’ was spoken Jake turned towards Wee Lily with his lips obscenely puckered but she drew back as if stabbed and gave a heart-rending sob.
Her mother, standing by her other side, gave her a jab in the ribs that sent her reeling into the chest of her bridegroom and the kiss was finally achieved but the minister was already walking away, drawing the band offhis neck and thinking, I might as well read the marriage service over a couple of sheep for all that pair understood of it.
Disconsolately the bridal party trailed out into the rain ignoring the red-headed girl standing in an alcove at the rear of the church, but she ran after them and threw her arms round the bride crying, ‘Oh, Mam, I’m sorry.’
Wee Lily sobbed even harder. She was dressed in a floppy cloth sun bonnet with a deep frill and the same cotton dress she had worn to the fair. Its tight puff sleeves made her upper arms look like mottled hams under the chill of the rain. The dress was too long and wet round the hem with water off the soaking grass, so she hitched it up and showed her heavy boots.
She clung to her daughter with tears running down her face and Jake took one look at them, jammed his cloth cap onto his head and walked away in the direction of the Abbey Hotel by the churchyard gate. The only thing for him to do now, he reckoned, was to celebrate his wedding day with ale and it looked like he would be celebrating alone.
Big Lily didn’t try to stop him for she was grabbing the intruder by the shoulder and hissing, ‘What’re you doing here? You should be at work.’
Kitty wriggled away. ‘MacPhee said I could come to my mother’s wedding. She gave me time off for it.’
‘She should have more sense. All you’ll do is cause trouble,’ snapped Big Lily.
Angrily Kitty broke away from her grandmother and turned to hug her mother, who was wiping her nose with the back
of her hand and gulping hysterically.
‘Dinna greet, Mam. When I’m able I’ll come and take you away,’ she told her.
Big Lily was furious. ‘You’ll do naething of the kind. You leave her be. You’re just jealous in case she has any more bairns and then your nose’ll be put oot o’ joint,’ she fumed, roughly hauling the girl back again and trying to push her off along the path, but Kitty was wiry and determined. She fought back.
‘Leave me alane,’ she shouted, her brown eyes flashing fire.
‘Leave you alane. I’ll flatten you!’ threatened Big Lily, lifting her hand and opening the palm to give a stinging slap to Kitty’s face. But she had miscalculated. Her granddaughter was growing up.
Big Lily only managed one blow. Before she could draw back her hand again, a balled fist connected with her chin. Her head snapped back, her eyes rolled and she fell over like a pole-axed stirk.
Kitty and Wee Lily looked at the body lying senseless in the middle of the path and then at each other.
‘Oh my gosh, ye’ve kilt her,’ gasped Wee Lily, stopping crying and kneeling by Big Lily’s side, chafing the huge hands and calling anxiously, ‘Ma, Ma, get up, Ma.’
Big Lily groaned and rolled her head about a little.
‘She’s not dead – worse luck,’ said Kitty and turned to walk away. Behind her Wee Lily was helping the older woman to sit up and Big Lily gathered enough strength to shout, ‘I’ll kill you, you wee bitch. I’ll kill you, by God I will. Don’t let me see you again if you don’t want a hammering.’
Kitty did not turn round but the minister, coming out of the vestry and heading across the wet grass to the manse, stopped in his tracks when he saw the tableau being enacted in the middle of the path.
‘What do you think you’re doing?’ he shouted at Wee Lily who, totally confused, was trying to help her mother up and answer him at the same time.
‘It’s my ma, I’m helping my ma,’ she stammered.
He was furious. ‘What do you think this is? It’s a holy place, not an alehouse.’ He was sure they were drunk, for their faces were flaming red and the older woman was staggering.
‘Where’s the man?’ he demanded. Wee Lily wordlessly pointed in the direction of the Abbey Hotel.
‘I might have guessed as much. People like you shouldn’t be allowed near a church. Get away home this minute and don’t cause any more trouble,’ he ordered.
Kitty had not seen their humiliation, for she was running across the fields which she knew so well. As she ran, tears poured down her cheeks and she let them flow unchecked, finding a strange relief in giving way to them. She gulped and sobbed till the pain of her fury of grief made her ribs and chest ache but still she could not stop. Through the many hardships she had endured in her life, she wept rarely and now it seemed as if all the pent-up tears were pouring from her at once.
At last she felt cleansed, wiped her face on her sleeve and stood very still thinking about her life and wondering what lay before her. The hatred she felt for her grandmother was something that she was beginning to treasure. She could feed off it. It would fuel her and armour her.
She wondered if she was really jealous of her mother marrying. She acknowledged that she did not want Wee Lily to marry Jake but her dislike of him was not jealousy, it was more fastidiousness and she hated the idea that he would force himself on her innocent and unwilling mother. It would not have been so bad if she had been married off to someone with whom she could have enjoyed married life because she probably had the capacity to relish that in the same way she relished her food, but Jake was little better than a rutting boar and Kitty was afraid that all her mother would experience would be unfeeling re-creations of the rape that still haunted her confused mind.
As far as Kitty could see, nothing lay ahead for any of them but misery, work and a blanking-out of the mind. If she was to escape the degradation of her mother and grandmother, she would have to get away… she’d have to walk and walk, over the hills that rimmed her horizon. She’d have to find out what lay on the other side.
‘Hoo did it go then?’ asked MacPhee when she saw Kitty coming through the field.
‘Grand, grand, they got married and then they went home,’ said the girl in what she hoped was a light voice, but the forewoman noticed there were tear marks on her face and said consolingly, ‘Weddings aye mak me greet too.’
‘I’ve no’ been greetin’,’ said Kitty defensively.
‘All right, if you say so, but you should be glad your mother’s married. There’ll be somebody to look after her when your granny’s gone.’ MacPhee had worked in and around Falconwood all her life and knew Big Lily and her daughter well.
‘I just wish she hadnae married Jake, that’s all,’ said Kitty.
‘But there’s no’ much choice for her and she wouldnae want to leave Townhead, would she? It’s her father’s place after all and she’s got a right to be there, though Craigie’s sisters would deny it.’
As soon as she’d spoken MacPhee realised from Kitty’s surprised expression that she did not know the secret of Wee Lily’s paternity and wished that she’d been more discreet, for she was a kindly woman in spite of her forbidding exterior.
Kitty was onto the slip like a terrier after a rat, however. ‘What do you mean? My granny has aye told me that she couldnae mind who my mother’s father was.’
‘Oh well, maybe she cannae. Maybe I’m wrong.’ MacPhee was hurrying across the field with Kitty on her heels.
‘Who did you hear it was? You must know if you said his place was at Townhead,’ she persisted.
‘I cannae mind,’ mumbled MacPhee but she was lost and knew it.
Kitty put a hand on her arm and held her back. ‘Please, MacPhee, please tell me. I’ve a right to know, haven’t I? After all, he was my grandfather whoever he is… Please tell me the name.’
‘What I heard is maybe no’ true. It’s maybe just gossip. But folk say that your mother’s father was Craigie Scott.’
Kitty stopped dead and felt as if the breath had been driven out of her body by a huge blow. ‘Craigie! Our farmer, our boss! It cannae be Craigie,’ she gasped.
‘Folk say it was. It wouldnae be unusual – except…’
‘Except what?’
But MacPhee had been sufficiently indiscreet already and wasn’t going to say any more.
‘Farmers often father bairns on their bondagers. You’d find plenty of them round here if you knew the truth,’ she hurriedly added.
‘There’s something else, isn’t there? What else do you know?’ asked Kitty standing her ground, but MacPhee drew herself up to her formidable height and snapped, ‘I havenae time to stand here blethering wi’ you. Get ourself a spade and go back to the field. Effie’s there and she needs a hand.’
Kitty took her place beside her friend and started working close enough so that they could speak to each other without shouting.
‘Did your ma get merrit then?’ asked Effie.
‘Aye, she did.’ Kitty sounded glum and the other girl glanced over her shoulder to say, ‘Dinna mind. It’s no sae bad being merrit. I wish I could find a nice lad to take into my bed instead of having to lie with them under the hedge when I feel like a bit o’comfort.’
Effie liked talking about sex and would go with any man who asked her. She had become Kitty’s chief source of information on the subject and while they worked Effie regaled her with graphic accounts of her couplings with various members of the Falconwood staff.
‘MacPhee said a funny thingjust now,’ Kitty suddenly told her.
Effie laughed. ‘MacPhee funny. I dinna believe it. That woman’s never made a joke in her life.’
‘I don’t mean that kind of funny. She said something strange. She said that Craigie Scott’s my mother’s father.’
‘What’s strange about that? Somebody had to be her father and there wasnae all that many laddies around Townhead. Anyway, folk said Craigie shot that navvy that couped your mother because she was his lassie. He
admitted to the polis that he was her father. Folk knew about it before that of course, but no one said anything because of him and your granny…’
‘What about him and my granny?’ asked Kitty, stopping working and looking fiercely over at Effie who said, ‘I dinna mean to insult you or anything, honest I don’t.’
‘Go on, tell me, dinna beat about the bush. I want to hear it.’ Kitty was speaking through gritted teeth.
‘I’ve aye heard that Craigie fathered Wee Lily in spite of him and your granny being brother and sister.’
Kitty could say nothing because she felt sick. A terrible spasm seized her stomach and she threw down her spade and cried out, ‘Oh God, I’m going to vomit.’ She ran to the edge of the field to throw up. When she came back a few moments later her face was paper-white. ‘Is what you said true?’ she asked Effie, who was working away with a will.
‘About Craigie and Big Lily you mean? Aye, so they say, but who can tell really? The only folk who know for sure are your granny and Craigie Scott and he’s up in the prison so we cannae ask him.’ Effie laughed.
‘But I thought you werenae meant to do it with your brother,’ asked Kitty bemusedly.
‘Nor are ye but some folk do. They get daft bairns though and the line’s rotten after that,’ said Effie complacently.
Kitty felt sick again, for the unthinking words rang in her ears… ‘Daft bairns… the line’s rotten after that’.
My mother’s simple. That means that I’m rotten. If I have children they might be dafties too, she thought. She felt as if a door had been opened revealing secrets which she had never suspected. She was being told things that she would rather not know and they made her hate her grandmother even more for being the cause of such horrible revelations.
Evening was drawing in when she and Effie returned to the tool-shed to put their spades in the long rack. Effie began flirting with a couple of ploughboys and Kitty offered to stack her tool for her and carried the two of them into the shed, glad to go into a quiet place where she would be alone and able to think. She was standing in the shadows when the door opened behind her and a voice said, ‘Your ma’ll be getting bedded the night then.’
Wild Heritage Page 15
