The Nickum Page 10

  ‘Aye, that’s what I meant. Bairns dinna metafose like that.’

  ‘It must be Mr Meldrum that made Willie change for the better, Jake. He must be a better teacher than the last dominie.’

  ‘That’s why they made him a dominie,’ Connie laughed. ‘Just sign that form and send it back. If there’s been a mistake, Willie’ll not pass the exam and that’ll be the finish of it. Now dish up the supper, ’cos I’m meeting Gordie at half seven, and I need to wash and dress.’

  ‘Tell Willie to come down for his supper,’ Emily told her. She addressed her husband again. ‘So will we just sign this form? I want to know before Willie comes down.’

  ‘What d’you think?’ he hedged.

  ‘I think we should. Like the dominie said, it would be a shame to waste a good brain. But we’d better not tell him yet.’

  ‘Good idea.’

  It was only two weeks later, however, that their son was to learn the news for himself. He and Millie were walking home, slowly so that they could talk, when she said, ‘I’m quite excited about going to the Academy after the holidays.’

  Willie’s heart plunged to somewhere just above his feet. They had not long got to know each other and they were going to be separated, but he couldn’t let her know how he felt. It was his own fault for not paying attention to his schooling before. Now he thought about it, though, he wouldn’t have been going there anyway. His father wouldn’t be able to afford it. Connie had been quite clever, according to what he’d heard, and she’d never got the chance. ‘You’ll do well there, Millie,’ he murmured, trying to sound as cheery as he could.

  ‘So’ll you,’ she laughed.

  ‘But I won’t be going.’

  ‘Of course you’re going. Father’s got back the reply to the forms he sent in. Four of us in our class have been accepted for entry in August. I don’t have to sit the test for a grant, but the rest of you have.’

  ‘No, Millie, my dad can’t afford to send me.’

  ‘Well, the grant – no, it’s called a bursary – would help to pay for so much, and I’m telling you you’ll be going, but you can ask my dad if you don’t believe me.’ She flounced up her garden path, leaving the forlorn Willie standing alone.

  When he got home, he went up to his room as usual to do his home lessons, but couldn’t concentrate for thinking over what Millie had said. She couldn’t know anything about how poor farm workers were, when her father must be making about ten times what his dad got for much harder work. She got everything she wanted, while he had to be content with what was handed to him. It would be truly wonderful if what she said was true, though. He’d be able to go with her on the bus, and they’d come back together. They would grow up together, for they’d have to stay on until they were about seventeen or eighteen.

  He grinned at this prospect. Fancy him wanting to stay on at school until he was seventeen or eighteen. At one time, he’d been horrified to think he couldn’t leave until he was fourteen. It just showed you. The coming of one new girl to the area had changed his whole life. He was really too young to think of love, but he knew deep down that Millie was the only one for him.

  ‘Supper!’ His mother’s voice brought him out of his romantic reverie, and he jumped up to obey the summons. When they were all four seated at the table, Emily took an envelope out of her pocket. ‘Jake, I want you to read that till I dish up.’

  Willie did notice that she looked brighter than usual, no sign of the scrubbing and cooking and washing and ironing she had likely been doing all day, but he put it down to the weather. It had been the first really sunny, warm day for ages.

  Looking up after a few minutes – for he was a slow reader – Jake said, ‘Well, will I tell him or you?’

  Willie shifted his spoon a fraction. ‘If it’s about me going to the Academy, I know I can’t go.’

  ‘Ah, my lad, but that’s where you’re wrong,’ his father grinned.

  ‘But you can’t afford … Connie couldn’t go, nor Becky.’

  ‘Things have changed since that time,’ Emily smiled. ‘Mr Meldrum said you would just need to pass a test and you’d be in. And that’s a letter of—’ She lifted it to make sure of the word. ‘A letter of confirmation. You’re accepted on condition that you pass this test. Mr Meldrum says there’s three of you having to try, so he’ll drive you to the Education Office in Aberdeen – that’s the County Office – and bring you back when you’re finished, in about an hour. He’s a real gentleman.’

  The information overwhelmed the boy, tears welling up in his eyes at the thought of such generosity, and his sister gave him a dig in the ribs. ‘I don’t suppose it’s anything unusual. Mr Meldrum’ll likely get judged on how many passes he gets.’

  ‘No,’ Jake said, trying to be fair and not wanting his son’s good fortune to be belittled. ‘That man’s got all his pupils’ welfare at heart, and he has to make sure the brighter ones get a good chance in life.’

  On the day of the test, a Saturday so as not to take them off school, the three boys were taken to Aberdeen, sat their test and given a good lunch before their headmaster drove them home again. The boys thoroughly enjoyed their meal, having been too apprehensive to eat any breakfast, something which their headmaster had foreseen.

  The holidays started at the end of June, the results of the test were not made known until the end of July, so the three hopefuls had four weeks to wait. If Willie had had Millie to speak to, he would have felt much better, but the Meldrum family had gone to France for the whole seven weeks, and would not be home until a few days before schools started again. His appetite suffered and Emily could not understand why he wasn’t excited about the adventure that lay ahead for him. Thankfully, the test result was favourable and the other three weeks dragged past, although several postcards for Willie came from France, so he knew he wasn’t forgotten.

  Willie had stopped being the focus of attention in his own house on the day Connie announced that she and Gordon Brodie were going to be wed. Jake was pleased for her, but worried about the expense. Emily was less than enthusiastic, guessing at first that it was desperation not love that had made her accept this man, but the hastening on of the wedding made her suspect that it was even worse than that.

  Gordie put up no pretence. He made it widely known that it was only the expected but unwanted child that was making him take this step and, although Jake would willingly have thrashed him within an inch of his life and then thrown him out, Emily held him back.

  ‘We can’t have him going around telling folk you’ve attacked him. No, Jake, we’ll just have to put up with it and pray he doesn’t treat our Connie badly. At least he’s doing the right thing and giving the child his name.’

  She didn’t altogether convince her husband that violence would do no good; a dozen times a day she could hear him muttering, ‘I shoulda kicked the bugger’s erse, that’s what I shoulda done.’

  Sometimes wondering if they should have forbidden the wedding, she had to remind herself that Connie was well into her twenties and could, by law, do as she pleased, though what pleasure she would get from being wed on that lump of – she hated even to think the word, but ‘shite’ was the only way to describe him. It wouldn’t be love that her daughter would get from him, it would be endless heartache, for it was well known that he had other girls.

  Willie was too wrapped up in his own blossoming ‘friendship’ with Millie to notice what was going on. He did wonder why Connie wasn’t having a nice wedding like Becky’s, but she had always been different, and if a registry wedding was what she wanted, it was really nobody’s business. His own life was very comfortable, thank you. It couldn’t be much better, really, for Mr Meldrum only drove them to the Academy and they had to take the bus back, which meant, of course, quite a walk from the turnpike. They had progressed from going hand in hand to arms round waists, which was very satisfying, yet sometimes just lately he had felt the need of something more than that – what exactly, he didn’t know. A few kisses, maybe?
But they were too young to be kissing.

  The lessons they were getting at school were much harder than in the school at Burnton, but so far he was coping. He and Millie weren’t in the same class, worse luck, as boys and girls were kept separate, and he missed the excitement of competing with her in a friendly way, but they had got into the habit of discussing the homework they had been given.

  As the months passed, Willie had a spurt of growing, and before she knew it, Emily saw that he was taller than his father. Taller and fitter. He had a healthy tan from walking so much, his cheeks were rosy. He still had a little tuft of hair at the back that refused to lie down, but that didn’t detract from his appearance. She surprised Jake, one evening, by saying, ‘I can’t get over how grown-up Willie is now. He’s quite the young man.’

  Watching the steam rise from his socks as he held his feet out to the fire, Jake nodded. ‘Aye, he’s big enough now to dae the diggin’ for me here, an’ some o’ the other hard jobs, as weel.’

  ‘I was thinking he could chop sticks for me and do some other little jobs.’

  ‘It’s time he was workin’ for his keep. I’d to work for my Da fae when I was aul’ enough to lift a spade.’

  The youth himself was not enamoured of these ideas when they were presented to him. ‘I’ve got hours of home lessons, Mam.’ Recognising the displeasure on both his parents’ faces, he added, ‘I’ll do what I can, then, and full time in the school holidays. Will that be enough?’

  Sighing, Jake laid down his empty teacup. ‘We’ll see how it goes, but me an’ your Mam’s nae gettin’ ony younger, you ken, an’ I need to be fit enough to work for McIntyre or I’ll get the sack. I aye hoped you’d tak’ ower the keeping o’ this place, that’s why I wasna keen on you startin’ the Academy. You dinna need to ken the geography o’ the world for that; nor workin’ oot great lang sums. An’ what good’s Latin gan to be to you? Now, if they was learnin’ you how to plough a straight furrow that would be …’

  ‘No, Jake,’ his wife broke in, gathering up the dirty dishes. ‘Learning’s never a waste. It’s surprising the kind of things that could come in handy.’

  Feeling a rush of shame at the memory of his old school chums, who’d all had to help their fathers since they were fairly young, Willie said, ‘I’ll do as much as I can, I promise. I’d have left the school if I could, but seeing I’ve got the bursary, we’d have to pay back what we’ve already got.’

  Thus it was that Willie found little time to dream from then on, and was forced by his conscience to go straight home every afternoon. ‘I hardly get a proper chance to speak to you,’ Millie complained one day as they said goodbye at her gate. ‘I miss our wee chats, you know.’ Hesitating, she looked at him in a way that made his heart speed up. ‘I miss you, Willie.’

  ‘And I miss you, Millie.’

  Despite their sadness, they both smiled at the Willie/ Millie rhyming, then the girl whispered, ‘We’re meant for each other, Willie, so don’t go looking for anyone else.’ With a quick movement, she kissed him on the cheek, turned and ran into the house. Thunderstruck, Willie kept standing, wishing that he could return the kiss; wishing that he would never have to wash his face again; wishing that he didn’t have to go home. But he had made a promise.

  It was difficult fitting in everything that he was expected to do, and his teachers began to take notice of the difference in his homework. ‘Did you do this exercise before rushing out with your friends?’ the Latin master asked one forenoon.

  ‘No, sir, I never have time to go out with any friends.’

  Because every teacher dished out work for their pupils to carry out at home, it often meant Willie sitting well into the night, but he did not want to admit that he had his chores for both parents to do first. And so the time flew past.

  Although Connie had persuaded Gordon Brodie to marry her because she was expecting, she was still terrified about it, even now. She’d been disgusted at the way Gordie had treated her since the very day they were wed. All the old wives’ tales about men being like beasts in the bed hadn’t been strong enough. Her husband had practically torn her apart on their wedding night, making her bleed copiously although they had done the deed many times before it was legal.

  ‘That’s what happens,’ he had snarled. ‘What did you expect?’ Then he’d just fallen asleep, one leg still lying heavily over both of hers.

  It had taken her some time to extricate herself from the shackle and creep to the kitchen to clean herself. She had wished that she didn’t have to go back to bed, but where else was she to go? In any case, she had married the man and she’d have to put up with him.

  She couldn’t put it out of her head, though, and had been lying on her back for only about ten minutes when he hoisted himself on top of her again. The act didn’t take so long this time, but the result was exactly the same – groom instantly dead to the world, bride pinned down. She had got used to this pattern, of course, although it had been a hundred times worse in the two weeks they lived with her in-laws until their little house was ready, sleeping in the bedroom next door to them.

  ‘Gordie,’ she’d whispered as the bedsprings started to creak noisily, ‘what if your Mam and Dad hear us? What’ll they say?’

  He had rammed into her as hard as he could. ‘What can they say? It’s what every man and wife do. They did the same theirselves – still do, for I’ve heard them at it.’

  Looking back on it now, she knew she had been ignorant of life. Her parents must have done it, they had three children as evidence, but surely Dad hadn’t been as rough as Gordie. He couldn’t have been; he was a different type.

  When they had been offered the tiny cottage, isolated from any of the other houses and left vacant when an old woman died, she had hoped that she would feel better, since Gordie would be free to make as much noise as he wanted. He had been getting more and more vicious, however, until she felt, sometimes even wished, that he would accidentally kill her.

  Over the last few months, it had got even worse. He started going out every night, with his mates, he said, but she had her doubts. He didn’t have the money to go drinking every night, and not come home until after midnight, so drunk he could hardly stand, sometimes. Besides, the Tufted Duck closed at half past nine, so where did he go after that? She was so upset and confused about this, she was forced to confide her fears to her mother on one of her visits.

  Emily had given her the opening by remarking anxiously, ‘Are you sure you’re feeling all right, Connie? You’re looking real pale. Is Gordie treating you right? I know you’re carrying, and I know he hits you for I’ve seen the bruises. I’m not blind you know. You can’t go on like this, Con.’

  Sighing, the young woman had told her everything, from the agonies of the wedding night, the repeated onslaughts, the abrupt cooling off followed by the nightly absences. ‘I think he’s seeing somebody else, Mam,’ she ended, her voice unsteady.

  ‘Oh, Connie, my lovie, I was some feared for this. I could tell Gordon Brodie was a man that needed a woman whatever happened. There’s a lot of men like that. They go at their wife till they’ve bairned her, then when the poor lass gets bigger an’ bigger, they look for somebody else to pleasure them. I’ve seen it happen over and over again, and if I’d my way, I’d castrate the lot of them.’

  Her brows down, Connie said, perplexed by the unfamiliar word, ‘What does castrate mean?’

  Emily shrugged but answered as honestly as she could. ‘It means they should have their … balls cut off.’

  Her daughter’s eyes had shot open in amazement. ‘Mam! I’ve never heard you saying that word afore.’

  ‘No, and you’ll likely never hear me saying it again.’

  Becky Burns had made up her mind at last. She had been considering it for some time, and was finding life with Jackie more and more tiresome. She knew that her mother would tell her she was lucky to have such a good man, so fond of his home, so loving towards her, but she didn’t want a namby-pamby man, she want
ed a real he-man, a man like Clark Gable, a man that would rough her up a bit; not too much, though. Not like Gordie Brodie was doing to her sister.

  She had been fully aware for some time that her in-laws weren’t happy about the kind of woman their son had married. She knew they had been looking forward to having grandchildren but they’d had that! There must be a way out!

  She approached Jackie’s father first. He was a fair man, and might be only too glad to agree with what she suggested. To her astonishment, her assumption had been spot on, and within two months, she was on her way to America, with a cheque for one thousand pounds in her purse to see her through until she was able to look after herself – on condition that she did not contact Jackie in any way.

  ‘I know this will break his heart,’ Tom Burns had said, ‘but he’ll get over it, and I’m sure he’ll find a better mother for the children he wants.’

  Her own parents, of course, thought she was mad, exchanging a good, loving husband for the unknown man she was hoping to find in a far-off country, and taking what amounted to a bribe for doing it.

  As her father said, ‘You’ll be back within a year, begging poor Jackie to forgive you.’

  ‘No, Dad. I need excitement. I need the love of a proper man. I need my freedom.’

  Emily frowned to let her husband know not to say any more. Becky had always been headstrong, and she would have to learn for herself that you can’t always get what you want in life, that you should learn to want what you do get. ‘So when are you leaving?’ This wasn’t just one of her chicks flying the nest, both her daughters had done that already, but this one, this flighty younger one, was taking herself to the other side of the world, and they might never see her again.

  ‘Tom Burns has booked my passage, and I sail from Greenock tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ Emily’s hand flew to her heart, but Jake held out his arms to his daughter and she ran to him with a cry. ‘Oh, Dad, I’m sorry, but I need to prove myself. You must see that.’